#i cannot be held responsible for this being sappy as fuck it's just how they talk ://////

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

23.

The door swung open before the soft chime of the bell had faded. ”Jamie!”

Mummy, beaming at him, and before he even knew it he was in her arms, wrapping himself tight around her and stooping to bury his face in her neck and just hold her as she clung to him in turn.

“Hi, Mummy,” he murmured, inhaling the familiar scent that was comfort and safety and home.

He could hear the bright smile in her voice. “Hi, baby. Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

And it seemed to silly, suddenly, such pointless and foolish waste, that he should have stayed away for so long, kept himself from this for so long. Just from the way she’d lit up at the sight of him it was so fucking obvious that there’d never been anything to fear, and nothing to gain but loneliness and heartache for them both.

And he had known that, deep down, hadn’t he. And yet.

Fucking stupid.

Jamie made a low, frustrated noise.

Mummy noticed, of course she noticed, and she didn’t let him go or try to pull back, but she asked, “Jamie? Is everything all right, son?”

“Yeah. No. I mean, it’s… Listen, Mummy, I need to tell you, but it’s… and I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, yeah? Haven’t called enough, I should have called more. But things— And I’m sorry, yeah? I just— ”

“Jamie, baby,” Mummy interrupted, kindly but firmly, as she kept running her hand over his hair, just like Keeley had a couple of nights ago “Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right, I promise. There’s nothing you can do or say that would make me love you any less, you know that.”

He nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” He did know. Had never doubted it.

Somehow that had only made it harder.

“I just want you to be happy.”

And yes, he knew that too, but that was the crutch of it, wasn’t it? The truth he’d wanted to keep from her. “I haven’t been, much,” he mumbled, a whispered confession, the thing that lain between them brought out into the soft light of the hall. His unhappiness, and underneath it what had caused it and what it had led him to do.

She did pull back at that, lifting her hand to his face, running it over his cheek. “Yes, son,” she said quietly. “I know. And it broke my heart that you wouldn’t talk to me about it, but you’re your own man, Jamie. If you don’t want to tell me things you don’t have to. I’m here for you, whenever you need me to be. But yeah, it did hurt when you stopped coming around, even though I knew you were busy. You don’t need to tell me everything, my gorgerous boy, but please don’t shut me out just because you think you can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t… I wanted to talk to you, I did, swear down, but I just didn’t know— “ He fell silent with a small shrug.

Georgie nodded. “All right. Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She smiled at that, encouragingly like, and Jamie smiled back. Felt some of the tension bleed away, some of the regret ease. It had been shit, staying away and shutting her out, but they were here now; it would be all right.

“Let’s go sit down then, and we’ll have Simon bring some sweet treats. He’s been in the kitchen all day since you said you were coming.”

Oh. Jamie made a face. “Sorry, I should have called earlier, given you guys more time—“

“No, hush now, none of that. You’re here now, Jamie, and that’s all that matters, yeah?”

Sighing, he pulled her back into a tight hug. There were a lot of them to catch up on. “Yeah, okay. I love you, Mummy.”

“I know, baby. I love you, too.”

[svnflowervol666]

I Want Your Belly (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Oddly specific, kinda weird, sappy sweet. Got a good handful of asks for this one so here you go! Harry asks Y/N to join him in the Watermelon Sugar music video. It was a bit hard to write due to the nature of the scenario, but I hope you find it just as cute as I did. Take care and TPWK.

Even in January, the California heat is brutal and unforgiving. Sure, being by the ocean where the momentum of the cool waves cast a light breeze does something to midigate the miserable feeling of feeling like the sun’s rays are going to burn you alive, but it’s only a crumb of salvation really. We’re talking sweat running down the backs of your kneecaps, legs painfully sticking to the seat of whatever chair you’re sitting in, not enough water in the world to keep you from being dehydrated hot. But she wanted to be there.

She’d been oggling him from her sand chair for the past forty-five minutes. I mean, who isn’t oggling him when they see him tracing his fingers coyly over the flesh of a sweet, ripe watermelon. He’d been glancing in her direction in between nearly every take, smirking at her through his aqua-tinted sunnies and wondering if what she was seeing made her reconsider the offer he’d been begging her to take him up on for weeks. All she would give him back was her iconic side-eye before she’d go back to reading the novel in her lap and occasionally picking at the bowl of freshly-cut fruit she’d swiped from the prop table.

“And that’s a wrap on scene one!” one of the directors called out over the crashing waves.

Harry did what was proper - shaking hands and bowing heads and saying his ‘thank you’s before all but jogging over to where she was sat underneath the oversized pale-blue gingham printed umbrella.

“Change yeh mind yet?”

He had his hands on his hips, fingers resting on hem of the crochet-knit tank top he’d chosen himself for the occasion. She waited until she finished the page she was on before even daring to peer up at him through her sunglasses.

“How are you not dying in those pants?” was all that Y/N gave in response before going back to her book.

“‘M absolutely wretched down there if that’s what you’re askin. But yeh didn’t answer my question, lovie.”

She sighed heavily, dog-earring her place in her novel and casting it aside it in the sand before leaning up to rest her elbows on her knees.

“I just don’t know why you want me to be in it so badly. This is your video. If I’m in it, everyone’s gonna go crazy and it’ll be an even bigger shit show in the press than it’s already going to be.”

This made Harry crouch down to her level, his white loafers digging even deeper into the sand as he leaned on his haunches.

“That’s exactly why I want yeh t’ be in it. ‘S my video and that’s what I want. Want this t’ be fun and it would be even more fun if I had m’ girl with me.”

She stared at him, silently giving him her please drop it look, but it only spurred him on further.

“If it’ll make yeh feel any better, I’ll make sure you’re not in it a bunch when it comes ‘round t’ editing. Barely put yeh up close too.”

That was enticing,Y/N could admit. He’d surely let her have the final say in how much she was involved, but there was still a lot of stress that came with being on camera. Especially in her state. She knew she wasn’t exactly hiding anything, as they’d been spotted countless times in public and their friends had posted photos to their stories with her body clearly visible in them, but some things she’d rather not shine a direct spotlight on. Doing something like this would most definitely be putting her business on display for the world to see, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. 

“Please, baby? I won’t ask yeh again, but I’d really love it if you were beside me.”

She wet her lips with her tongue, eyes darting up to the underside of the umbrella as she really, truly contemplating giving in to Harry’s pleads. On her life, she can barely recall a time when she hadn’t given Harry anything that he wanted. He just had a way with people that wasn’t manipulative or conniving in any way - he was magnetic. Everything about him was so charismatic and mesmerizing and anyone that met him found themselves gravitating towards him and going along with whatever he was saying or suggesting. I mean, she let him put a baby in her for christ’s sake.

“Help me up out of this thing and find me something to wear,” she huffed, to which Harry dramatically punched the air with his fist in celebration.

“One condition,” she interjected his boast and Harry tilted his ear in her direction and tapped his earlobe with his finger to show her that he was listening.

“You have to go down on me when we get home. It was torture watching you finger that watermelon, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“Yeh talkin’ like yeh think I wasn’t gonna try t’ squeeze in a quickie during lunch anyway.”

He pulled her up to her feet, making sure to keep a steady hand on her back as he led her away from the ocean and towards the beach entrance where the trailers were parked.

//

“Wha’ about this one?” Harry asked as he pulled a strapless swimsuit with a palm tree print littered about the fabric and presented it to her.

“One wrong step and my tits will fall right outta that thing,” she quipped.

Harry held it at arm’s reach so he get a better look at the garment himself.

“Yeah. You’re right. They are gettin’ pretty big, aren’t they?”

There was no malice laced within his comment, but when he felt a harsh backhand graze his shoulder, he realized what he’d just said.

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like tha’. Yeh know I love your boobs. Especially now.”

He tried to make up for it by reaching his hand out to playfully grab at Y/N’s chest, but she slapped his fingers away and continued thumbing through the racks filled with dozens if not hundreds of swimsuits for something she could manage to squeeze herself into.

“Ohh, wait! This one’s nice.”

Harry’s fingers got tangled in the lacy straps of the neighboring article of clothing beside the one he was trying to pull out, making a few hangers crash to the ground with a harsh sound against the linoleum. When she saw what he had found, she didn’t hate it. It was a sherbet-orange colored bikini that seemed as if it would cover everything she was concerned about showing, and the bottoms looked like they’d be somewhat decent at keeping her ass contained and wouldn’t ride up and make her constantly have to readjust it every five minutes. 

“Alright, Styles,” she squinted her eyes and nodded in approval.

“I’ll bite.”

He watched her as she peeled her romper that perfectly cradled her small yet still mighty bump, lingering for just a bit too long when she unhooked the back of her bra and dropped it to the floor.

“You gonna give me the swimsuit or are you gonna keep staring at me? It’s fucking hot in here, Harry.”

She was stark naked and had her hands on her hips, a sticky veil of sweat still shining on her skin from the mugginess of the wardrobe trailer. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at her state, his heart full of nothing but admiration for the girl standing in front of him.

“Here, I’ll help yeh into it.”

Harry kneeled down to the floor and guided her legs through the bikini bottoms. Just as he pulled them up around her thighs and onto her hips, he gave her bump a quick kiss. 

“We’re kinda matchin’ yeh know,” Harry babbled as he fastened the straps on her top.

“‘S the same color as m’ nails,” he stuck a leg out in front of her to wiggle his toes and show off the bright orange pedicure he’d gotten that morning.

“That’s disgustingly cute actually. Maybe I should change,” she joked.

“No way,” he dismissed her.

“Yeh ass looks too good in this one.”

Harry clapped both hands against her bum with gentle force, the two of them erupting into a fit of giggles. He spun her around by the shoulders to get a good look at her body, protruding belly and all, in the clementine orange swimsuit.

“M’ pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered as his lips met hers in a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

“I know I am,” Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Alright,” he continued.

“Just gotta change into m’ shorts and then I’ll be good t’ go. Meet yeh at the umbrella?”

“Oh hell no,” she jested.

“If you got to see me naked, I get to see you naked. Now get to stripping.”

//

The day went by in a blur.

What was supposed to be a brief cameo turned into Harry dragging Y/N into every scene he possibly could. When the directors instructed the models to gather in a pile around the pop star, he found his head perched in her lap, nestled perfectly atop her thighs with his temples pressed against her belly. When they’d wanted clips of everyone romping about the shoreline, he’d ended up carrying her around the beach after she’d gotten winded from doing one-too-many takes.

“Harry, I cannot fucking do this anymore,” she panted.

“I can practically feel my cankles growing.”

“Fine then,” he replied, hooking his forearm around the underside of her knees and scooping her up so that she was cradled against his burly chest.

“I’ll just carry yeh.”

He’d made her feed him raspberries as he sang the lyrics into the camera, even going so far as to suck on her fingers seductively when she went to drop one into his mouth. It wasn’t intended to be a serious attempt at filming the video, only him messing around and trying to get a rise out of her as he always did, but everyone ultimately decided that that the take they were going to use. She’d cursed him out under his breath, but they both knew it was for making her practically soak her knickers rather than getting dragged into more than she bargained for during the shoot.

Constantly, his hands always found themselves gravitating towards her belly. Whether it was rubbing her taught skin like a crystal ball as he sang the chorus instead of gesturing to the large watermelon that he was supposed to be holding, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

She’d known it was bound to happen at one point, but sometime throughout the afternoon he’d called for her and when she turned around, he was had shoved a watermelon up under his sheer, yellow blouse.

“Y/N!” Harry shouted at her from a few yards away, interrupting a lovely conversation she was having with one of the models.

“I’m you!”

He gestured to the fruit stuffed inside of his shirt, toyfully stroking the exterior in the manner that she always found herself doing even she wasn’t realizing. 

It made everyone, and I mean everyone, explode in laughter. It only made her hide her face in her hands after promptly shoving her middle finger in his direction.

But she’d gotten him back. When the director wanted shots of each of the girls taking bites out of a slice of watermelon, she’d made sure to take the messiest bite she could manage so that the juice ran down her chin and down the valley of her breasts. Y/N threw her head back as if were the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, exposing the column of her neck that Harry loved to mark up and bruise with his skillful tongue and lips.

“Yeh tryin’ t’ make me hard right now?” he all but growled in her ear when she’d joined him behind the camera so the next model could have their turn.

She simply cocked her head to one side and smirked up at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m going to the bathroom. All of this watermelon’s making me have to pee.”

When it came time for the portrait and everyone was being distributed their designated slice of fruit, Y/N found herself confused when Harry pulled her out of line.

“What are you doing, H?”

Harry held up a hand to signal that he’d be right back, to which he returned with an uncut watermelon. Quite possibly the biggest watermelon that she’d ever seen at that.

“Yeh don’t get a slice, yeh get the whole damn watermelon.”

They’d all piled up on the bench and stared stoically into the camera, only instead of raising the wedge to their lips to take a bite, Y/N sat on the grass at Harry’s knees, a whole watermelon resting in between her legs in front of her bump.

//

Y/N’s day ended up being far more fun than she’d ever imagined it could have been despite her constant nagging and jabs at Harry’s expense. While she’d initially only agreed to be a part of Harry’s music video under the condition that her role would be minimum, she was secretly hoping that all of their side conversations and what would be considered “outtakes” would actually make in into the final cut. 

In fact, she’d had so much fun that at the end of the day when filming had wrapped and her and Harry were on the way home, the gentle hum of his convertible and the cool breeze that followed a blistering day on Malibu beach had slowly began willing her eyes shut. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her from the driver’s seat.

“Hmm?” Y/N picked her head up from where it was leaning against the window to look over at him.

“Don’t go t’ sleep on me now.”

He reached over to grab her left hand that had settled itself on top of her round stomach. Before lacing his fingers with hers, he kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“Still got t’ go down on yeh when we get home. Bet yeh gonna taste like strawberries.”

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 10 (Finale)

“Under the Knife” - Part 10 (Finale)

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,800-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, talk of violence, talk of death

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: Well, we are finally at the final chapter. This has been such an incredibly challenging story to work on, but I have learned so much from this process that will no doubt help shape my future stories.

Thank you to all of the readers who have liked, reblogged, commented, messaged, and reached out to me. This has been the best response I’ve gotten on a story and it has filled me with a level of appreciation that I wasn’t expecting. <3 

With the sappy stuff out of the way, please enjoy the final chapter of “Under the Knife.”

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled​ @germansarechill​ @rentheanonymous​ @liadamerondjarin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Taking into account that Henry Urik was left-handed, I was able to throw my head back, causing him to falter, and then lean to my right in order to escape his grasp and not have my throat sliced open. This gave me enough time to get back to the table and get my hands on the gun.” 

“Unfortunately, the gun was empty. It’s common for killers to use unloaded or fake guns as intimidation techniques with their victims. My mistake gave Henry enough time to stabilize himself and grab hold of me again, resulting in a mild concussion and being knocked unconscious until a few hours later. Luckily Dr.Lecter was able to fight, thus saving me until Special Agent Crawford and his team could come.” You looked around and saw a few people taking notes while others just nodded their heads. Checking your watch, you saw that you had a few more minutes left to fill up. “And with that, I have time for one or two questions before we leave.”

The lights faded up a little bit, nothing too harsh for you. You quickly scanned over the larger than the normal crowd in your lecture hall. 

The fact that you, a survivor of the Virginia Scalpel, were giving a lecture on the case had attracted the minds of not only your normal trainees but the higher-ups as well. 

It was a slightly dizzying feeling to see the faces of management in your lecture hall, but that could also be the still healing minor concussion from a serial killer slamming you into a table a little less than a week ago. Either way, you took this time to sit on your desk and drink some water as you pointed to one of the trainees in the first row.

“I don’t want to bring up anything too triggering, ma’am, but I--”

“Kid, if I wasn’t okay enough to jump back into the shitstorm named Henry Urik, I wouldn’t have agreed to be here today.” A scattering of chuckles echoed through the hall. You were glad to hear that your lighthearted comment helped ease the tension in the room. “Please, continue. I’ll be okay, I promise.” The agent nodded and took a breath, whatever they were going to ask must have been weighing on their mind enough to scare them. You could tell that they were trying to hide it, but your ability to read people's subtleties was strong.

“Thank you, ma’am. I wanted to ask for your advice. What should we be aware of if we’re ever in a similar situation with an unstable or unpredictable suspect? What do we do?” 

You nodded and thought for a moment before you responded. You had a feeling that this type of question would come up now or through an email later on. Fiddling with your ring, you spoke.

“To be honest, you have to be able to assess everything at the moment. I may have seemed to have a handle on the situation externally, but internally? I was a quivering, frantic, and terrified mess. With Henry’s focus being solely on me, I knew I couldn’t just sit there. I knew that if I froze, it could have cost not only my life but also Hannibal’s.” You took a deep inhale through your nose before continuing. The thought of losing Hannibal hurt your heart. “My advice: really focus on the suspect. What are they saying? How are they saying it? What are they doing? Are there any mannerisms o-or phrases that hint at any sort of soft spot?” 

You held up a finger and turned to your computer, scrolling back through your presentation until you found the slide you were looking for. It was a diagram showing how all of the victims tied to Henry as well as Henry’s symptoms. You turned back towards your class.

“While I knew a majority of this information before my encounter with Dr.Urik, I only knew the facts at face value. When he and I talked about his experiences with all of these doctors, Henry let his anger and annoyance towards these men out. His voice changed from the seemingly calm and confident man that had just had a gun pointed at me, to a frustrated patient who just wanted answers that he believed in.”

“Now if we want to talk about more physical tells, that is the premise for another lecture entirely. You can tell a lot about a person without either of you having to utter a word.”

You looked at the trainee, they were watching you, truly listening to everything you had to say. From the almost unnoticeably tensed jaw to the stiff posture, this future agent was using all of their power not to tremble in fear at the thought of being in a scenario like this. You saw the fear in their eyes.

“As long as you breathe, remember your training, and let yourself fully assess the situation at hand, you’ll do the best you can do. Trust me, there were two very distinct moments that night where I thought and accepted the possibility that I was going to die. That’s a risk we all take with this job. But I focused on what I could do next and kept going. And that’s what you’ll learn throughout your time in training and in the field. You cannot stop, you have to keep going.”

You ended with a smile directly to the trainee to try to calm their nerves even a little bit. They visibly took a deep breath and nodded, giving you a quiet “thank you” before writing something in their notebook. Your saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Will and Hannibal were now standing off to the side, letting you know that you were almost done. Will was more rigid than usual. You assumed he heard the part about accepting death and he did not like that thought. 

Hannibal caught your eye as he tapped his watch. Nodding, you looked back to the class, prepared to dismiss them. That was until you saw a hand near the back. Before you could say or do anything, the man with the raised hand spoke. 

“How were you able to confirm the Scalpel’s motive? What stood out with him that made him suspect number 1?” You took a slightly larger breath as you realized it was one of the assistant directors speaking. Blinking a few times and gathering your thoughts you tried to sound as professional as you could. 

“Well, we originally were looking for an active doctor. Someone who could have access to the equipment and drugs needed for these killings. But then we realized that it could be a former doctor who was now a patient of these doctors.” You gestured to the slide projected behind you. “As for motive, we could only theorize until we talked to Henry himself. And while talking to him face-to-face last week revealed a lot, we cannot actually confirm anything when it comes to his psyche.”

“But you said it yourself, he was frustrated at the answers that these doctors had given him. So wouldn’t the Virginia Scalpel murders be crimes of passion, making his motive emotional overload?” The man spoke. You were thrown off just a bit, but found your way back to correct wording.

“They actually weren’t crimes of passion. Those are usually impulsive and emotionally driven. The Virginia Scalpel crime scenes, especially that of Dr.Pencalt and his wife, showed us that Henry was methodical and purposeful.” 

“Yes, there could have been an emotionally charged aspect to it. He was upset with these men. I theorized with Dr.Lecter and Special Agent Crawford that these killings could have been some sort of pain relief for his headaches. The act of slaying these men took all of his focus, alleviating the pounding in his head.” 

“At one point, he said that killing was a form of mercy and life could be considered torture. So he could very well have just wanted to spare them from this mortal coil. Or maybe Henry saw these murders as a way of honoring them. Maybe there was even a thrill-seeking aspect that he got a kick from.” You stood up from your spot on your desk, feeling yourself getting a bit weary after so much talking over the last hour or so, and tried to politely wrap this all up.

“Where I’m going with this is the fact that we can theorize all we want-- Hell, we can even settle on what we believe his motive was. But that’s all it’ll be: A belief. We will never truly know because Dr. Urik was found dead in the woods behind his former office building, stabbed a handful of times, and had enough of his own paralytic drug in his system to take down an ostrich.”

They were out of your sightline, but Hannibal and Will both smirked at how well you had handled the situation. It wasn’t often that managerial positions were proven wrong in front of a classroom full of people. However, both of their smiles slowly fell as the assistant director continued.

“I guess his death is a breath of fresh air, right? You can sleep at night knowing that the Virginia Scalpel is no longer out there. No more target on your back.” The assistant director tried to say that as a lighthearted joke. Something to lighten the mood. But you forced a pained smile and spoke your mind.

“Yes. I am thankful that I don’t have to worry about a scalpel cutting into my cheek again, or almost slicing my throat, or finding Dr. Lecter chopped into pieces in his bed or maybe even Henry breaking his pattern and going after the last bit of family that I have left. I guess sleeping should be easier, shouldn’t it?” 

You looked directly at the man as you spoke, the gravity of your situation and the insensitivity of his statements hitting him. You shifted your gaze to the trainees that were in the first few rows and continued, straightfaced. 

“But I am curious as to what he would have to say and how that perspective could have helped us catch others like him. I hope that you all can find that same curiosity as I do. If we can catch them and talk to them, we could learn what makes them tick and get information that could help us catch the next one before it's too late.” You let a beat of silence pass, letting your words sink into the minds of the young ones. “Thank you all for your time. For questions regarding the Virginia Scalpel case, please contact Special Agent Crawford and he will see if you are authorized to view the file notes. If you need to reach me for any reason other than the Virginia Scalpel case, you all have my email. Stay safe out there.” 

You turned away from the class and shut down your computer, trying to gather your things as the room applauded. You raised a hand as a way of saying “thank you but please stop” and they all filed out of the room. 

“I think that went well despite Assistant Director Ass-Hat’s commentary at the end there” Will made his way to you, grabbing your jacket from the chair behind you and holding it in his hands, gripping it tighter than normal as if doing so would solidify in his brain that you were here and safe.

“Thanks. For someone with a shaken brain, I think I did pretty good today.” You joked back at your brother. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the beginnings of his brain spiraling with worry. 

If he was being honest, Will still hasn’t fully gotten over the events of last week. It was his exact fear almost coming true. And while he was forever thankful that you were alive today, he was worried that this near-death experience wouldn’t be enough to stop you from continuing to work active cases. The fact that you wanted to give this presentation so soon after you were released from the hospital validated his worry more and more.

“I still think it’s too soon for you to be back here.” 

“If you had your way, I would never step foot near this building again, Will.” You joke over your shoulder as you slide your laptop into your bag. “But I also think that that is just your way of trying to get me to be a 24/7 dog sitter.” Will huffed out a breath that sounded like a dry chuckle.

“I’m not saying that, but if you ask Winston or the others, I’m sure they would be all for that idea.” 

You finally turn fully to Will and lightly smack his arm. His face fades from a small smile to an unmasked face of worry as he looks down at the jacket in his hands that he is still fiddling with.

“I know this isn’t going to change your decision on whether or not you stay with Jack’s team, but I really don’t like that idea.” 

“You said the same thing the first time we had this conversation.”

“Yes, but that was before you got seriously injured while working a case.”

“I wasn’t seriously injured.” Will was going to interject, but you kept talking. “But I understand. What we do is dangerous. But I’m going to say the same thing I said last time: I have the chance to save lives, and that is a good enough reason for me to stay.” 

Before either of you could continue, Hannibal finally made his way over. His hand landed comfortably on your lower back for a long moment to alert you of his presence. 

You and Hannibal had talked about your mutual feelings for one another and agreed to start exploring a romantic relationship. That being said, you haven't told Will yet. Luckily, the gesture from Hannibal was easily passed as friendly to your unknowing brother.

“The assistant director wanted me to pass along his apology, (Y/N). He didn’t mean to insult you with his statements.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“I know he didn’t mean to. But it was a nice excuse to hand a ‘powerful male’ his ass in front of a whole room. I’m sure his ego will bounce back in no time.” You let a devilish smirk grace your features, earning a smile from Hannibal and a chuckle from Will. 

Hannibal looked to Will and saw how he was holding your jacket. Hannibal just offered his hand.

“I can take that, Will. You should go. You don’t want to be late for your own lecture. I will make sure your sister is safe.” 

The hospital discharged you, but you were still healing. The cut on your cheek was almost healed, but you kept a bandage on it to be safe. A scar would surely form, permanently reminding you of your first case. Most people would associate it with the fear of impending doom by the hands of a serial killer. But you were actually okay with it. You saw it as a reminder of what you were able to survive.

The most inconvenient thing was that you weren’t allowed to drive yourself. Between the healing concussion and the medications you were on, driving was not the safest thing. So Hannibal and Will took it upon themselves to compare schedules and be your drivers. 

When Hannibal had afternoon patients or had to work late on something, you would stay with Will. On days where Will was needed at work, you would stay with Hannibal. Sometimes you would stay in their homes, and sometimes they would crash on your couch. Well, Will would crash on your couch. Hannibal would share the bed with you, protecting you from anything that would try to get you physically or mentally. 

Even when you decided to stay at Hannibal’s home, you felt safe. The dining room was a bit haunting. But you knew that no matter what, if something felt off or if you were in any sort of danger, Hannibal would step up and help the best he could. 

Your boys (and the dogs) made sure you were safe no matter where you were.

 If there was anyone Will trusted to watch over you, it was Hannibal. He was the reason you weren’t the Scalpel’s ninth victim.

Will just nodded and struggled to hand over the jacket. Your heart ached because you knew how easily concerned he got when it came to you. But you could also see that he was trying to let go of some of that worry, letting himself see that Hannibal was a safe man to have in your life. You closed the gap between you and Will and wrapped your arms around him, feeling how tense and distraught he was. 

“I will text you as soon as I get home, alright?” Will nodded his head as he squeezed you just a bit tighter. You squeezed back, knowing he needed the reassurance. He pulled away and you patted his shoulder. “Don’t give your kids too much shit today.” 

You both snorted, knowing there was some truth behind the joke. Will said goodbye to Hannibal and left the room, leaving you and Hannibal alone. 

As much as you wanted to hurry up and get out of here, you had to lean against the desk as you zipped up your bag, really feeling your lack of energy now.

“Are you alright?” Nodding, you took a sip from your water bottle before speaking.

“Yes? Did a lot of talking and thinking today. I think I’m starting to get tired.” You let a chuckle-esque exhale come through your nostrils. “Gotta build my energy back up.”

Hannibal stood in front of you, gently placed your jacket down on the desk, and took one on your hands in his. To any normal person, it just looked like he was holding your hand to comfort you. But you knew him. He was gathering data: Pulse, temperature, if your hands were clammy, and whatever else he could find out. But he was also holding your hand to comfort you a little.

After determining your vitals to be manageable, he lifts his hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek for a moment.

“I think it's time to go home and rest, don’t you?” Hannibal proposed. You nodded and grabbed your jacket from next to you.

“My place or yours?”

“Your choice, my love.” You couldn’t help but smile at the new and special sobriquet that Hannibal had started using more frequently. Hannibal kissed the back of your hand before helping you stand up, putting your hand on his arm to guide you out.

“I think my place tonight. And maybe we can stop at the store on the way and you can finally show me how to cook something worthy of the esteemed food artist, Hannibal Lecter?” Hannibal smirked at your dramatics.

“Do you think you’ll have the energy for that?” 

“No. But I’d still like to try.” You leaned towards Hannibal and felt a pleading smile make its way across your face, knowing Hannibal was already going to agree to your idea. He still pretended to think it over before nodding. 

“That sounds like a lovely evening.” You felt yourself wiggle just a bit out of happiness, Hannibal smiled at the cuteness of the motion.

Hannibal reached out and touched the doorknob, but before he could open the door, you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. When you looked at the caller ID, your feet stopped moving and your heart dropped. You couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement. Maybe a weird mix of both.

Hannibal turned to you, watching your face carefully as you answered.

“(Y/N) speaking.” 

“How you feelin’, (Y/N)?” You hadn’t heard Jack’s happy voice in a while. You weren’t sure if this one was real or fake. So you proceeded with caution.

“I’ve been better, but I’m also doing a lot better compared to a few days ago.” 

“Good. Good...” Crawford trailed off, his mind obviously on something else. 

There was an awkward silence. You knew Jack was trying to figure out how to phrase something without stressing you out after the last couple of weeks. You knew what that something was and you appreciated the effort to try and not overwhelm you, but you didn’t like this small talk part. So you took a deep breath before kick-starting the conversation that you knew Jack was trying to ease into.

“I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call, is it, Jack?”

“No. It is not, (Y/N). We have another odd case that we could use your help with.” 

You felt your thumb subconsciously go to wiggle your ring. You knew this conversation was going to happen eventually, but even knowing that didn’t lessen the anxiety you felt. Hannibal stepped closer and took your hand in his, lightly running his thumb across your knuckles. You knew he was trying to ease your mind with the small gesture. You mouthed “Thank you” to him and smiled. 

Jack continued before you could say anything. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. But the sooner the better.”

“How about I get back to you tomorrow afternoon?” You stated more than asked. Jack agreed to that and hung up. Hannibal could see that you weren’t stressed but you also weren’t excited. 

“I take it Agent Crawford wants to borrow your mind again?” You nod your head, going back and forth in your mind about whether or not to take him up on his offer again or let yourself rest for a bit longer. “What’s stopping you from saying yes?”

“Not much to be honest.” You look at Hannibal and see him watching you, ready to react to anything you say or do. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” 

“Could you be my partner, Hannibal?” You ask and almost fear his response. You didn’t want to be a burden. But very quickly you are met with that lovely rare smile of his. 

“It would be an honor to be your partner, in life and on a case.” You smile as you lean towards him and he meets you halfway, pecking your lips softly, his hand smoothing its way to your back. The two of you pull away and he ushers you out of the room. “After all, someone has to protect that beautiful and reckless mind of yours.” 

You shot Hannibal a look as the two of you walked to his car, ready for one more relaxing night before jumping right back into the chaos.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #2: needy

[Heatwave // Godless] [Drabble Masterlist]

Pairing: fwb!Taehyung x reader

Summary: Lines between you are dangerously blurred.

Genre: drabble, domestic fluff, angst, fwb au, roommates au

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: (graphic?) mentions of smut, needy!Tae acting like your boyfriend when he’s not your boyfriend, confusing feelings 😬

A/N: I love this couple, ok bye.

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‘Y/N’ Taehyung whines. You turn to pin him with hooded unimpressed eyes. ‘I’m horny.’

The two of you have been sleeping together for a few months now, it’s a carefully crafted, consensual agreement between two adults, two close friends. You have sex whenever you want to, no strings attached, friendship unaffected, none of that exclusive bullshit or godforbidden feelings. Just sex.

Sometimes you go a week without fucking each other, other times it’s five times in one night. There really is no strict schedule, it’s a casual, open relationship.

No, not relationship.

Friend(s-who-have-sex)ship.

After that club night, you both decided that there is an undeniable sexual tension between you that hovers beyond your platonic dynamic, yet it is purely physical. Neither of you are seeking anything more, neither of you want to give up your promiscuity for each other.

Thus births… Whatever this is.

‘And what about it?’ Sunday afternoon, you’re lounging on your cream L-shaped couch like vegetables, watching your favourite episodes of The Office. Taehyung is reclined on you, his head cradled in your arms in place of a cushion, and he’s stroking your hand a little too sweetly. Cuddling while watching a show together isn’t uncommon between you, though he is almost always the one to instigate it.

At your apathetic response, he pouts, nuzzling into your bosom. This is exactly the baby behaviour he know that drives you wild; since when have you been about to resist such a docile sub?

This is the same guy who asks you to call him daddy.

‘Why are you being so cold?’ From the corner of your vision, you see the puppy eyes he’s giving you. You have to resist rolling your own. He can be so needy sometimes.

‘We fucked this morning.’ You state, watching the television intently, purposely not giving him the attention he’s trying to lure.

It was a great fuck, in fact; several toys were used and you both came twice. You can still feel the phantom of his cock shoving inside you while he used the vibrator on your clit. Shuddering, you try not to bring up that memory in your head again to prevent your own arousal from perking.

‘That’s never stopped you before.’ Huffing, he snakes an arm around your waist and plays with the hem of your shirt. Of course, he’s not even paying attention to the show anymore. It irritates you when he requests to watch The Office with you then does not even look at the bloody screen for the most of it.

‘You should get a girlfriend, then, if you’re so horny all the time.’ Your tone isn’t bitter, but you guess it’s a little blunt.

Because you’re not his girlfriend. You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Ever.

Taehyung sits up abruptly at what you said, the warmth of his body instantly peeling off your front. His repulsion to the G-word is even physical as he scoots away from you. ‘I don’t want a girlfriend. Dating is so much effort, first you have to take them out to nice places and get to know them, then you have to see whether you’re actually compatible, and then you meet the friends and family who may or may not like you. That’s so annoying!’ He whines, unconsciously palming his crotch that appears to be slightly stiff.

True. Relationships are so demanding and complicated. Why would you wish to always have someone constantly asking your whereabouts? Why would you willingly be tied down to a single person? Why would you give them so much of yourself when they could one day just take this power and crush it in their hands? Relationships are a societal construct, forcing monogamy down your throats and telling you that if you aren’t in a committed relationship, you’re lonely.

You’re a single woman held down by no man, you can fuck whoever you want, and you like it that way.

But thinking of which, you realise you haven’t been fucking a lot of other people lately besides Taehyung. Or even anyone. The last guy must’ve been… That accountant from the bar with a foot fetish… Which was over two weeks ago.

A shudder courses up your back, the claws of that frightening thought digging up your spine.

‘Why don’t you booty call that waitress you were boning for a while?’ It’s a trick question, to see whether you’re also the only hole he’s been putting it in recently. Because if you are, then you two are falling dangerously close to monogamy, the greatest bane of your existence that you avoid like the plague.

‘Nah, ditched her weeks ago. She was too vanilla in bed, didn’t do me like you.’

Of course no one does him like you, and no one does you like him. That’s why you’re friends with benefits - because you know what each other likes the most. So why even bother trying to look elsewhere for sex when you can find it in the room next door?

But this is getting weird. Maybe you should call up that accountant again, hopefully he isn’t too offended that you ghosted him.

‘Why are you asking about her anyway? Are you jealous?’ That word strikes at you like an insult. Taehyung is wagging his brows annoyingly, toes jabbing at your ribs the way your brother used to do, so you flick his forehead harder than you normally would. Wincing, he clutches the sore spot like you threw a rock at him or something. Dramatic.

‘Of course not. I’m never jealous.’ You scoff. Y/N? Jealous? Come on, he’s making you laugh. ‘I was just curious, don’t flatter yourself.’

But it seems your response is a little too much what he wanted to get out of you as he continues to wind you up. ‘Aww, Y/N.’ He pulls you in by the waist and nestles his face in your hair. ‘You know you’re my favourite girl, right? Since day one, you’ve been there for me and I’ll never forget that. No one night stand or blonde waitress can ever replace you, okay?’ When he leans in to kiss your ear, you squirm away, groaning in disgust.

‘Taehyung!!!’ You yell out. ‘Being all wet and sappy will not get you laid right now. Stop it.’

‘Hey, I wasn’t even thinking about that anymore, but if you’re implying that there’s a possibility that I'll get laid right now…’ That irritatingly smug smirk is plastered on his face, and though it absolutely vexes you, it doesn’t fail to make you smile too.

It’s not that you don’t want to have sex with him because since when have you been the one to say no to Taehyung’s thick meatstick? It’s just that…

‘Well, I’m not really feeling it, I’m sorry. I’m getting a really bad period cramp, I’m due tomorrow.’

There’s a subtle warmth creeping beneath Taehyung’s cheeks at your openness to talk about your womanly cycle despite years of you doing so. He’s used to it by now, but even he’ll admit, he’s not the most mature of men his age. The image of blood flowing out of one of his favourite body parts on you is… not nice.

‘Oh.’ Now the unenthusiastic mood makes sense. ‘I’ll get you some ibuprofen from the pharmacy?’

Sidling next to you back to his previous position between your lap with his head reposed on your sternum, Taehyung feathers his fingertips on your arm the way he knows you love. Although it only lasts a couple of days, he knows you always get quite down during period, not eating much and curled up in your bed to nurse your uterus pains. As your roommate, he sees it as his duty lift your mood the best he can. He must remember to get you some ice cream later.

‘It’s ok, don’t worry. Medicine is for the weak, you know I never take painkillers.’ You grumble moodily but brush his hair back from his forehead, his head tilting up in wave of your motion so he can look at you.

‘You’re a mad woman, painkillers don’t make you weak.’ This stubborn steadfast trait of your personality drives him mad sometimes. Why can’t you just take the bloody painkillers so you won’t have to endure the cramps?

‘I’m not a pussy. No, thank you.’ You glare down at him with a challenging glint to your eyes. Taehyung gets the sudden urge to wrestle you and shove those stupid pills down your throat.

He won’t be able to convince you, that’s one thing for sure after living with you for two years.

Change of tactics then. ‘Do you want me to rub your tummy?’ The dance of his fingers on your skin does not cease, he feels you stiffen under his touch when it reaches your bicep.

‘Are you going to turn it into some sexy massage roleplay?’

‘Not a bad idea, actually…’ The suggestion shoots an excited flare to his groin, but then you knee him in the side. ‘Kidding! We’ll do that next time. Just let me ease those cramps.’

When you don’t protest, Taehyung turns to his side in your embrace and reaches his big palm under your shirt. Your skin, smooth as silk, allows his hand to glide as if on ice across the span of your torso. A sound almost like purring sounds from your throat, and he cannot resist looking up to see the efflorescence of content on your face.

As he kneads on your pained navel with the ball of his wrist, you shut your eyes and rest the plush of your cheek atop his head. Maybe it’s the giver in him but when you hum, ‘That feels so good,’ he can’t help preening in pride.

‘What can I say, I’m good with my hands.’ Your arm around his neck tightens into a headlock until he splutters an apology that he doesn’t really mean.

Taehyung tries not to let his mind wander to dirtier places when you groan at the comfort of his massage. It’s weird how you have this effect on him now, how a simple noise from your lips can coax his arousal just like that. He has always found you attractive before all of this, yet would never dare think of you in that way. And now? You two could be gaming at midnight together, but then a brush of your thigh the wrong way would be enough to set each other off, and you will be fucking for two hours straight. He has never felt this magnitude of sexual attraction to anyone in his life before, and the fact that you’re his roommate and closest friend just adds to the convenience.

‘Okay, but why do I feel your boner on my leg?’ There’s a hint of amusement in your voice. Maybe even delight, but he could be reaching.

‘Just ignore it, it’ll go away.’ Knowing you’re not in the mood for sex also puts him off, though the message takes a moment to get relayed to his dick. Taehyung continues to rub your cramping stomach as if his erection isn’t aching to be touched right now. He will deal with it later in the shower.

‘You’re being really sweet… Today one of your needy affectionate days, huh?’ When your lips brush against his forehead, a tingle he purposely ignores shoots to his cock.

‘What do you mean? I’m always like this.’ Taehyung glances up to catch you piercing him with appreciation in your stare.

And he’s suddenly overcome with an urge to kiss you. Except that would be weird because you don’t kiss each other unless it’s during sex.

Friends don’t kiss when the benefits aren’t being reaped.

It’s the hopeless romantic deep in his heart that’s goading him. As much as he likes to sleep around, fuck random bitches, it’s in his blood to have such boyfriend tendencies. He really can’t control it even when he doesn’t mean it.

So maybe he is being particularly needy and affectionate today…

He probably shouldn’t when it could send you the wrong message. It’s a dangerous game you play, this. And although he should trust you and shouldn’t doubt your aversion from developing any sort of feelings, the risk still remains dangling above your heads.

Who’s it going to fall on first?

No, it won’t fall.

Because you’re just friends who fuck. Where’s the complication in that?

At the end of the day, he cherishes your friendship above all else. After the betrayal of who he thought were his brothers, you were his fresh start, his new home. The way he’s latched onto you, that kind of bond… No sex is worth losing that.

You’re twirling his hair in your little finger, tugging the tufts as well as his attention ever so slightly. You have a particular fixation on his hair, Taehyung realises. You even went to the barber with him the other day to make sure they don’t fuck up his hair; you were so reluctant to even let him cut it, saying you liked it that long and messy.

Your personal handgrip when he’s eating you out.

Circles his palm is rubbing into your core falter when you begin to brush your lips over his forehead. The slow pecks you plant on his bangs voids his brain of thought.

‘Stop kissing my hair if you want my boner to go away.’ It’s a challenge not to grind his still painfully stiff cock into your thigh, that guy down there really has a mind of its own.

‘Seriously..? Me kissing the top of your head is making you hard?’ Disbelief ridden in your tone, Taehyung’s skin now feels barren when you remove your lips.

‘Hey, I don’t control these things! Plus I was horny to begin with…’ He flushes.

You should stop banging so often, really.

‘Wait also, have you been using my shampoo? Your hair smells like berries.’ You sniff at his scalp like a curious hound.

Taehyung looks up at you sheepishly.

.

09/09/2019

© Copyright 2019

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@shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @gingerpeachtae @taexxxiiaa @spring2787 @monixreal @askingtheimportantthingshere @icyi-sky

[bnha-mcu-requests]

Request #5

Okay so I have a story idea that I cant find so if youd like to could you maybe write it? The idea is bakugou and kirishima get together and all the others in the dorm think that its probably a toxic relationship based on how bakugous personality is, so they confront one of the two, and bakugou is rlly hurt by it aaaand that's all I got

 I love this request and I am so sorry it so long to respond to it but here it is!

The room was dark. Not an oppressive or frightening dark, but one that promises comfort, warmth and a good nights rest. 

Perhaps Kirishima was being biased but with Bakugou nestled under his chin, strong arms thrown haphazardly over his chest, he would say he was entitled to his bliss. It had been awkward at first, Bakugou angrily confessing his feelings during a training session before attempting to run away under the guise of storming off. Kirishima had acted on instinct pulling him back into an admittedly sloppy and inexperienced kiss but, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The rest of 1-A had yet to find out and both were content with this, neither really understanding the need to make a massive deal about burgeoning relationships. Besides, they were happy together and that’s all that really mattered. Privately, Bakugou worried about the responses they would receive, his less than pleasant demeanor was not exactly the poster for a healthy relationship. But whenever he voiced these insecurities with Kirishima, he was pulled into a tight hug where whispered responses and assurances of love tickled his ears.

Truly, they were made for each other, and while both knew it, neither broached the subject, embarrassed by the sappy confession.

Kirishima was snapped out of his musings by a groan and movement as Bakugou pulled himself away from the bed to stretch, arms reaching towards the ceiling, and, weak to the wiles of the blond, he didn’t deny himself a glance at the toned abs that peaked out from the bottom of his loose tank top.

Crimson met vermillion and an uncharacteristically soft smile graced Bakugou’s face as he admired his bedmate. 

“How long was I out Ei?” he asked, gravelly voice sending shiver up Kirishima’s spine. 

“About three hours. The others are back from shopping now and it shouldn’t be too long until dinner is ready”

The blond’s nose scrunched up in distaste as he remembered who exactly was on cooking duty that night.

“Fucking half and half better not have made cold soba again I swear to god I’ll explode the bowl” small sparks popped in his hands emphasizing the disgust and Kirishima could only watch on fondly as his boyfriend - his boyfriend holy shit he was dating Katsuki - grumbled while moving around the room looking for his hoodie that the redhead new for a fact was strewn over his desk chair. 

Kirishima let out a loud groan as he swung himself out of bed, sighing in relief at the loud pops that emerged from his spine, ignoring the concerned look Bakugou threw his way, before ambling over to his explosive partner and wrapping long arms around his torso. The boys were of a similar height however, Kirishima’s muscly form made him seem bigger than Bakugou who’s form was more like that of a swimmer’s. He nestled his nose into Bakugou’s nape breathing in the slightly sweet scent of nitroglycerin that followed the blond around. He felt his face vibrate as other chuckled and pulled away.

“C’mon Kat I just wanna hu-” he was cut off by soft lips pressed to his in a chaste but meaningful kiss.

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Dinner was a rather uneventful occasion, ignoring the yelling at the discovery that they were, once again, having cold soba and the students of 1-A settled down into the common room for Saturday night games. 

Everyone got involved in the game night, even Bakugou and Iida who under normal circumstances would have retreated to bed at 8 and 9 respectively. It was a good bonding time, or so Mina had declared when she first announced the idea. That was almost a year ago now and at this point, everyone had just accepted it as part of the routine. Sometimes they would play cards, charades, video games, monopoly and other board games, but on occasions when the class was high energy, they would beg Aizawa to let them use the training grounds for a massive game of tag or manhunt.  Tonight it was Hagakure’s turn to pick a game and like the teenage girl she was, she chose truth or dare.

Immediately people went around the room giving boundaries as they all knew there were some subjects that shouldn’t be disturbed in such an open environment as game night. Todoroki refused to talk about his scars, Shoji refused to take off his mask and Kouda would never be forced to talk if he didn’t want to.

Other than those boundaries it was pretty much a free for all, anything goes, nothing is off limits and as the night went on, the dares and truths got more and more personal or humiliating. Eventually, Kaminari worked up the nerve to ask Bakugou a question.

“Truth or Dare?” the boy asked, nervous sparks dancing across his cheeks causing Sero to move away slightly to avoid getting shocked.

“Truth” Bakugou grunted from his position on the sofa, arm thrown casually over the back of the chair so he could discretely stroke the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Um- are... are you and ....”

“For fucks sake Pikachu just ask the question” Bakugou snapped, startling a squeak from the other boy.

“Are-” “ARE YOU AND KIRI IN A RELATIONHIP?!” burst in Mina who had grown tired of waiting. The room went silent and all eyes shot to the two boys sat on the sofa, warily trying to assess the threat levels from the explosive blond.

“Yes” a collective cloud of confusion shrouded the room, some relieved that the boy hadn’t exploded while those who were braver began to ponder the nature of such a relationship.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere and feeling uncomfortable, Bakugou stood up, excusing himself to the bathroom. It was only seconds later that Midoriya got up to follow him but when Kirishima also made to stand up, he was stopped by a hand gripping his elbow.

He looked down into the doe eyes of Uraraka. She looked worried.

“Are you okay Kirishima? Bakugou isn’t forcing you to say that is he?” Shock stunned the redhead silent, he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He sat down, surprise stealing the strength from his limbs.

“What?” he breathed out, voice barely louder than an whisper.

“Well, Bakugou is quite a violent individual, I can’t imagine that he would be the nicest of partners” Momo voiced from where she was sat in front of Jirou who was braiding her hair. Despite the eloquent flow of her speech, she looked distinctly uncomfortable, throwing subtle glances towards a stoic Todoroki - something that Kiri noted to look into later.

“He’s not hitting you....is he?” Uraraka once again asked, usually bubbly voice heavy with concern. 

Before he could respond, he heard the door to the common room open and Midoriya and Bakugou walked back in, Midoriya wearing a small smile and Bakugou appearing much more relaxed than he had when he left.

That was shattered when Iida sped towards him, hand slicing up and down much too close for comfort as he demanded to know if Bakugou had been hitting Kirishima.

“That is abuse Bakugou! I cannot believe you would allow yourself to stoop to that level! It is very unheroic” - Todoroki flinched - “You should be ashamed of treating someone you should love in this manner!”

Shocked, confused and a little hurt Bakugou stepped back, eyes darting around the room before he made contact with Kirishima.

“Ei-” he began before he was cut off by an angry Mina stepping in the way, blocking his view.

The blond turned his head towards Deku who looked just as confused as he felt and was trying to calm the still yelling Iida down. Under the weight of hateful glares and crushing betrayal, Bakugou was paralyzed - ‘Is this how Deku felt?’ flickered into mind before being chased away. 

Unable to do anything, unable to breathe, to talk, to defend himself, Bakugou turned and walked out of the room, deaf to the demands that he come back and blind to the worried look and approach of his boyfriend who was held back by Sero and Ojiro. 

He continued to walk, numb and silent until he found himself in his room. He locked the door and turned off the light.

This dark was cold and oppressive reminding him of the harsh accusations he had just heard. It wrapped around him in a suffocating mimicry of a hug, cruel words whispering telling him that they weren’t wrong, he was terrible. He did horrible things and he didn’t deserve Eiji- Kirishima.

Sinking to his knees at the foot of his bed, Bakugou Katsuki began to cry, his hiccupping sobs swallowed by the night, going unheard by the angry masses downstairs. He couldn’t hear the defences that Midoriya and Kirishima put in place, he couldn’t see the guilt in his accusers’ eyes when they realised what they had done, and he didn’t feel the warm arms that picked him up from where he had curled into a ball and that laid him into the bed. But through shuddering sobs, he could smell the cologne he bought Kirishima for his last birthday and he allowed himself to relax into the warmth of his boyfriend's chest, finally falling into a fitful sleep.

 There we have it. I know that toxic relationships can cover a wide range of aspects however, given the way Bakugou’s personality is portrayed in the manga and the anime, I believe this is the form that would most fit should the relationship be a toxic one.

My exams are finally over so I have more time to write requests and a post containing the rules for the requests (since I realised I didn’t cover those) will be coming out shortly. In the meantime, send me your requests, they really help to get the creative juices flowing!

[boundlesshart]

how royal succession works in Almyra + Other Things about almyra that’s been rattling in my head since that nintendo dream interview laid waste on my crops

hi, so after reading M’s @ladamedepique​ drabble about a concubine war kid getting kmarted, i realized that what i actually want to write is the Everything i’ve been thinking about since this nintendo dream interview came out back in march. so i did. it’s 2am and im hungry.

i realize that it’s been a while, so the summary of that interview’s impact on my claude headcanons is “my handcrafted claude backstory that i had to write myself bc intsys decided fuck claude is now irreversibly fucked by the introduction of a bunch of half-siblings he had to be rivals with.” if you ever catch yourself wondering why this is such a mess, well because that’s exactly what this is! this is all subject to change, it’s same kind of “haphazard and bizarrely long half-baked headcanon report” that my dlc thought train was. i’ve changed my mind at least 20 times during this process i will change it again

i’d like to thank zotero for holding all of my journal articles and pdfs on the ottomans and their succession system, and also magnificent century og and kosem, while not being totally historically accurate, for being a fun soap opera to give me some visuals to work with in my head. i now have a positive understanding of what claude’s shitty little beard could realistically look like, which is a gift that i never thought i would have.

Almyran Succession

All of the king’s children, regardless of if they were born in or out of wedlock, is considered a legitimate prince or princess. This is pretty much the only title that they can expect to have, as they and their mothers cannot inherit any lands, titles or wealth that would have been passed to them from their own families. Almyran property law aims to avoid partitioning property between multiple heirs for the sake of maintaining the family’s financial stability. The throne of Almyra works under the same principle, which had led to the introduction, legalization, and practice of open succession.

Open succession, despite its potential to be cruel, is viewed as a necessary step to ensure that the throne would only be held by strong leaders chosen by the people (”people” ending up being the higher-ranking officials that would benefit from a specific child’s ascension). If they proved to be lacking, they would simply be deposed of and replaced. 

What determines who becomes the next ruler of Almyra is not whether a child is the oldest of all the children, but if they and their allies have the political acumen to not only claim kingship but keep it, fighting off their rival brothers and sisters.

All sons and unmarried daughters are eligible to rule Almyra. By law is not only the next ruler’s right but duty to remove other potential heirs to secure their right to rule and the stability of their reign. Generally upon a ruler’s ascension to the throne, their brothers will be killed and their sisters married off or killed if they threaten their siblings’ rule. Exceptions have been made in the past, but they are few and far in between and have led to succession crises down the road. 

The previous ruler’s choice for an heir is usually accepted after their death, and ideal for minimizing the interregnum period. Even so, it doesn’t guarantee that the heir will be able to keep the throne.

Ok, but where do the kids come from?

Rulers of Almyra are allowed to have multiple spouses, but they usually only marry for political purposes.

The vast majority of children are mothered or fathered by concubines with no background of political power, which is preferred. Princes and princesses are allowed to have children once they leave the palace (to prove that they can have them), but if they have too many they may be considered a threat to the king and dealt with appropriately.

I think the one mother-one child rule would have been in place here, not necessarily as a law but as a rule enforced by other spouses and concubines, as well as the ruler’s mother or father.

Princes and princesses aren’t dropping like flies, and murdering them without having the law on your side is considered treason of the highest order. They’re still aware of their competition and fear being murdered when one of their siblings takes the thrones, so few end up becoming friends.

Children are ultimately their mother’s or father’s responsibility. They are expected to guide them through their education and follow them to their provincial post when they are old enough, setting them up for success and paving their path to the throne. King and Queen Dowagers have been incredibly influential in Almyran history and support their children by representing them politically and managing their spouses and concubines. 

Ok, whatever, just tell me what’s relevant to Claude:

Ibrahim, Claude’s father, became the king of Almyra only after 5 year civil war between himself and his two remaining brothers. He got to the throne first and is still feared for the ruthless execution of even his youngest brothers and sisters.

In all, Ibrahim has had 2 wives and 12 concubines, and he has fathered 10 sons and 6 daughters. A few died to childhood illnesses but most made it to at least 13 years old. He’s a doting father and cares for their well-being, though only when he happens to see them. Though he was a constant presence in Claude’s life, his half-siblings usually only saw him during holidays.

No one in Almyra knows that Tiana is the daughter of Duke Riegan, for all they know she’s a Fódlaner that King Ibrahim brought back with him after a short border strife with the Leicester Alliance. Obviously she goes by another name in Almyra, and here is where I think I’m going to bring back the first name I had for her, Desdemona. Suck it, intsys. She wasn’t liked when she first came due to being from Fódlan, and was accused of witchcraft when Ibrahim married her and devoted himself to her at the expense of his other wives as concubines. As the herd of children and concubines thinned, Tiana’s strong personality and battle prowess garnered her respect among the top officials of the Almyran court and even her enemies.

In Fódlan Year 1175, rebels infiltrate the palace walls and kill over a dozen people, from palace servants to princes and princesses. In the moment it was believed to be part of a revolt that was ongoing in the capital at the time and carried out by rebels storming the palace walls and stealing and killing whatever came in their way. After an investigation, it was discovered that that was just a cover up for.... a noble Almyran house trying to make a power grab through either an older son or with their own heir? I’ve been working out the details on this for months and I still don’t have them ironed out don’t look at me. It ends with a couple of older half-sibs dying but more importantly Claude’s older and younger brother dying and Claude nearly dying himself, only to survive with the Crest of Riegan. I imagine that there have been instances before hinted at him having the Crest of Riegan, but it was this incident that confirmed it for Tiana. 

These are the notable royal family members, or the ones I’ve spent at least one second thinking of:

King Ibrahim II of Almyra: Claude’s dad, born Fódlan year 1131 so 19 when he ascends the throne. He is feared but respected, brutal to his enemies, firm with his allies... but you’d be surprised by how easygoing he actually is with friends and family. He’s young at heart and energetic, even laughing at jokes made at his expense, but only in very close company. He loves writing poetry, especially to Tiana, and he frequently sends her love letters so that one can be read out to her every morning and evening when her mail is given to her. Relishes the thrill of battle. Nader introduced him to kumis back when they were boys and to this day Ibrahim regularly drinks a glass each night, claiming it makes him stronger.

There’s a tradition in the royal family that all princes and princesses must learn a trade in case that they fall into misfortune. Ibrahim enjoys goldsmithing when he is alone, a good distraction from his thoughts. Claude’s earring is part of a set given to his mother, crafted by his father as a gift.

Tiana von Riegan/Desdemona: Claude’s mom, born Fódlan year 1135. Claude calls her a warrior goddess and a demon queen that would laugh at his expense, I imagine that she’s in that “dead serious but good humored about it” boat like Claudedad, but less sappy about it. A tough but loving mother, she was very involved in her children’s upbringing and did her best to secure their place in the royal family. She doesn’t teach any of her kids the Fódlanguage because she was distancing herself from That, but Claude is able to convince her to help him learn (though she was reluctant about it and limited their lessons greatly, forcing him to teach himself mostly). She has firmly decided to never return to Fódlan, but a cup of Leicester Cortania is her guilty pleasure. These days Tiana spends her time at her husband’s side in Maragheh, keeping up with her training.

Two older half-brothers: So Claude’s endings have him as heir to the throne without a mention of rivals, but part of me feels like that’s too simple for Claude considering he just up and walked out of there 7 years ago so here we are, two rivals. They’re probably early to mid 30s at this point and have one or two small children of their own. I don’t know their names yet, but my initial ideas are a “nice” brother cool calculated pushing up glasses kind of dude that is actually a huge dick and a chad dudebro who’s just trying to distance himself from these bad vibes.

If I had to give them trades, nice brother likes to fish and sails for pleasure (he governs a coastal province) and chad brother carves wooden thumbrings. 

Orhan: Claude’s older brother, born Fódlan Year 1160. He was conceived months before Tiana went to Almyra (born 5 months after she arrived), so his parentage has been in doubt from day 1. I imagine him as having low self-esteem since he was believed to be a full-blooded Fódlaner, discriminated against in a similar way or worse than what the rest of his siblings went through. Historians would later debate whether or not he was actually Ibrahim’s son.... but we’re not historians, and Orhan was definitely his son. Died in the FY1175 uprising at the age of 15.

No idea what he looked like, he just happened to not look like his parents. His favorite food was salted cod, but he was rarely able to get it. Orhan enjoyed playing the violin.

Claude/Khalid: You know him, you love him, born Fódlan Year 1162 under another name. He’s the only kid that ended up getting the Crest of Riegan, and after one too many accidents where that crest ended up proccing, he’s been accused of practicing witchcraft like his mother. I think this would be a better like, concrete thing for the Almyrans to fixate on rather than a general “you’re half-Fódlan rahhh” and I think it would definitely go with Claude talking about how he was constantly fighting and explaining himself to get out of trouble.

If I’m going with the “kids can only inherit from the ruler of Almyra”, then I’m gonna have to figure out how Claude fits into this. His first move is to probably bullshit a loophole about how actually the Dukedom of Riegan doesn’t exist anymore and I may have destroyed Failnaught after the final battle so technically I didn’t really inherit anything that would give me an edge in Almyran politics. :). Ibrahim is pissed at Claude for going to Fódlan in the first place and getting caught up in a war and he definitely did not sign off on Nader bringing Almyran troops into a war that they have no business being involved in. The first thing Ibrahim does when Claude returns to Maragheh is shout at him and ground him to his apartment in the palace. And then proceed to assign Claude to a governmental post so that he’s out of his sight.

As an aside, I imagine that when Ibrahim dies and Claude rises to the throne, he deliberately delays his coronation so that it coincides with the Almyran New Year. It;s that kind of inconvenient dick move that he would delight in making bc symbolism.

You know what he looks like, in terms of food he strays away from sugary sweet stuff and towards meat and cheese. I’d like to think that he gains a genuine interest in gardening (like, beyond just cultivating poisonous plants as a cover for “gardening”) during his time in Fódlan and brings back different seedlings and scions for grafting back to Almyra. 

Mehmet and Rahimah: Twins, born Fódlan Year 1164. Ok so basically I kind of wanted a dead sibling that was around Cyril and Lysithea’s age for the Drama of it (bc I thought of Claude looking at Cyril and thinking of his brother and immediately went “That hurts. Let’s do it”). But I ALSO thought what if Claude had a little sister, and then I ALSO thought what if Claude has a new full-blooded sibling that got conceived during the five year war, like the shittiest surprise. I’ve combined all those ideas into the twins.

First of all, they have more function than personality. Mehmet only exists to die during the uprising, but I’m starting to like Rahimah bc like... she literally loses most of her brothers including her twin, and then Claude up and leaves her for Fódlan (a place she has little connection to, regardless of her mother). Her only remaining sibling is gone for years, misses seven birthdays, her wedding with an Almyran general, the birth of her first child and the announcement of her second... like, by the time Claude comes back to Almyra she hates his guts and you know what? She’s right! I imagine Rahimah angry, but also grasping for literally any kind of deep and long-lasting relationship at this point. She loves her kids fiercely, she loves her husband, and even though they have their struggles she's still very close to her mom. Fuck her no-show brother Khalid, and fuck Fódlan for taking him away from her.

No idea what Mehmet looks like, like I said he only exists to die. Rahimah is shorter than Claude at maybe 5′4, round-faced and carrying herself gracefully. She’s lactose intolerant but she bears the pain for the sake of eating ice cream, and her husband goes to great lengths to get the ice for her. Likes to sing and dance with her son Ömer.

[eyesintheshadows]

hi my name’s ruggy and this is the product of 6 real time years of the longest fucking slowburn ship i have ever done in my life @ironclawed

“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”

A blood soaked hand shakily reaches up, pressing to Joe's face as tears trickle down his cheeks, and a gloved hand quickly wraps around it, leaning into the touch. There's blood, so much damn blood, and William can only cough up more as his body begins to fail him. The action has Joe holding him tighter, breath trembling.

“Please don't leave me alone..”

---

“Come with me.”

“To France?” The tone is skeptical, unintentionally; it's more shock than anything.

“Oui, why not? We are no longer needed here, and you never had the allegiances to the Assassins as I did, anyway.” William had given it a lot of thought, and still Joe was stunned.

He had never given any thought to doing anything other than filling contracts, working alongside William, and occasionally being able to simply relax with the Huntsman. Their relationship had blossomed, and a decade had passed since they had begun to work together. America's freedom had been won, and while the Assassins had continued fighting long after the Revolution had ended, the days of needing to keep that peace so vigilantly were dwindling. Many others had gone their own ways, according to William, and Joe had certainly taken notice. But he was a mercenary they contracted, so it had never really felt like his business to know, or care.

Except he did, because of the Huntsman.

---

The next week saw them boarding a ship, Joe lingering on the gangplank. A reassuring touch to his arm draws him out of his hesitation, and William offers him a smile that reminds the Night Stalker of why he fell so hard for William in the first place. The journey is long, and Joe can't exactly say he's fond of it; he'd forgotten how much he hated ships. But the journey is different from when he first came to America; he has William with him.

While they had gotten their own cabins (it was nice to have money, for these little luxuries), Joe often sneaks into William's and shares the small bunk with the Frenchman, the night more often than not finding the room filling with the rustling of blankets, stifled moans and soft gasps. Hands grip at anything they can, clawing at a back, the sheets, tangling in hair and curling around other hands for dear life, and by the time morning fills the room, it's to warm the exhausted bodies that cling to each other, arms wrapped around each other.

Disembarking is a strange experience; Joe watches William quietly as they step onto the busy port, and he gets the sense that William is conflicted. France was his home, yet he'd spent a good bit of his life away from it, while also having essentially forsaken his family lineage in favour of loving a man. That last bit of the thought is banished quickly from Joe's mind, before he can think it over too much, and nudges his lover lightly.

“We should find a place to stay, unless you...already had somewhere in mind?” He offers quietly, trying to bring William out of his own thoughts. He doubted returning to the de Saint-Prix estate was an option.

“Yes, you're right. My family has a small villa that we used to stay in during the summer, mostly for my Assassin training,” William sounds thoughtful, yet still very distant. Joe watches him for a few heartbeats, before flagging down a carriage, and letting William fall into his natural state when the driver speaks French. Joe spends most of the trip peering out the window, simply watching the streets turn into countryside, when William speaks up to thank the driver.

It wasn't that he didn't know French; he just didn't feel comfortable speaking it, because he knew he had no accent. William had been far too aware of this; he'd tried not to laugh the few times Joe had tried to be romantic and say some loving affectation in French, only to gently correct the Night Stalker, and instead fluster him. But the meaning behind those attempts were what meant the most to William.

The villa is larger than anything Joe was used to, and for the first few weeks, he struggles to settle in. “There's too many damn rooms, what the hell do you need all this space for?!” The shout echoes, and William has to stifle his laugh, watching the taller man move from room to room in frustration.

“You left your coat upstairs, in the third room on the left.”

“I hate you.”

That finally draws a laugh from William, Joe disappearing up the stairs and shouting his annoyance once he finds the aforementioned room.

---

“I thought you said you were done with the Assassins,” Joe frowns, watching as William unfolds a fancy letter one night, the fire flickering brightly and warming the room. It was October, and they'd lived together for four months, every bit the married couple that they wanted to be, yet knew they publicly couldn't be.

“It is not simply an occasional hobby I can choose to pick up or put down, Joe, I have an obligation to the Parisian Brotherhood as much as I did the American Brotherhood. It was they who sent me to the colonies, in the first place,” William replies curtly, despite knowing it would only draw Joe's ire. And indeed, he feels the glare, but cannot feel the concern Joe does.

“Why should they need you?”

“Joe--”

“You already fought through one revolution, why is this one your problem?!” Joe's voice wavers, and he sits down, rubbing his hands over his face. William waits for him to calm down before answering.

“Joe, America's revolution was not my fight. I am not American, yet I still aided when I was needed. France is my home, and I feel a responsibility to see this one through.” He decides not to mention that he's not particularly thrilled at being called back to duty, either, but the way Joe sags in the chair pains him.

“Then let me fight beside you. It's not my fight, but I want to be with you.”

“Non.”

“William!”

“I do not think you understand, Joe, customs here are vastly different from what you're used to! I am still looked at as part of a noble family, and expected to marry and have children, or at the very least have children. These are not things I can do, being with you, and I am more than okay with that. I've made my peace about it, but American customs do not have noble families arranging marriages for one another. I still have an image to uphold, despite having been gone for so long.”

Joe stills, feeling like a red-hot dagger had pierced his heart, and William's expression changes in a flash when he realises what he'd said. “Joe, that's not what I meant--”

“I know.” It hurts, but he knows William would have never tried to hurt him. He knows that William is still expected to keep a clean reputation for his family name, but he can't stop the sting of knowing that he'd ruined William's life. It felt like that night on the docks all those months ago, when he'd had doubts. He was free to love William as much as he desired, because he had no family, had no title, nothing to uphold. But William was risking everything simply by keeping Joe as company. He could never acknowledge their relationship publicly, and they could never be more than simply partners in various terms of the word.

William gets up, kneeling in front of Joe's chair and taking his hands into his own, meeting Joe's gaze. “Do not ever doubt my affections for you, Joe. They have never wavered, I have never regretted my decision to love you, and nor will I ever. But I think you sometimes forget that we come from two vastly different worlds, and need to be reminded.”

Silence lingers on Joe's end for a long while, and William's afraid that he's already broken their relationship irreparably, before the Night Stalker speaks. “I know.” It's not reassuring, but Joe leans down to kiss him softly, a kiss William happily reciprocates. Joe presses their foreheads together, sighing softly against his lips. “I wish things could be different for us.”

---

William's work for the Parisian Assassins leaves Joe to his own devices most nights, and while they come to an agreement that Joe can tag along, he also has to remain some distance back. He becomes like William's shadow, and while it's difficult and unnatural at first, they fall into a rhythm that works.

A small box waits for William when he returns home, two years into their living in France, and William picks it up in confusion, opening it slowly. A simple gold band sits inside, and Joe watches with his breath held as William picks it up, unable to fathom the implication.

At first, Joe's afraid he hates it. He opens his mouth to try and justify the decision, before William slips the ring onto a small chain, fastening the chain around his neck. He closes a hand around the ring, Joe closing his mouth as he does, and he doesn't remember a time when William looked so full of varying emotion, all positive. His own ring rested around his finger, yet another instance of him knowing that he could get away with wearing it in public, but also knowing that it would remain hidden whenever he needed it to, simply because of the fact he wore gloves and William did not.

Later that night, William curls into his side as Joe wraps his arms around the Huntsman, before William holds the ring again, closing his eyes happily. “It will always be close to my heart, just as you are, mon ami.”

“God, you're disgustingly sappy.”

“Says the one who bought us wedding rings.”

“I'm trying to catch up to your sappiness, there's a difference.”

William chuckles, Joe kissing his head before pulling the blankets closer, closing his eyes. The next two years are blissful with the weight of the rings on their bodies, and for all the world, they truly do feel united.

---

Nothing is unusual until William leaves for his contract mission one night, a simple recon. Joe tagged along, hovering nearby as they crouch on a rooftop, chatting idly to pass the time. It's spring, and the crowds take longer to die out as the cold of winter is chased away, leaving them plenty of time to simply relax.

Two hours pass until William reacts, and Joe lingers, staying back a rooftop. It's only when he sees a glint in the corner of his eye that he realises someone had anticipated William's arrival, and he turns a moment too late, the gun firing. The bullet whizzes by him and finds its target, and time feels like it's slowing as Joe turns back to see William recoil, hand clutching at the entry wound. He stumbles a few steps, body crumpling and causing him to fall from the rooftop, the sight drawing a horrified shout from Joe.

He races forward, disregarding his own safety as he drops from the rooftop, knees falling to the ground beside William's body. His hands tremble, afraid of touching William but resolving to pull him up gingerly, cradling him as William gasps for air. There's no exit wound, and the dark stains that grow steadily across William's chest, coupled with the faint rattling every time he breathes, tells Joe exactly what he doesn't want to know. His lung had been punctured, and the bullet was still lodged in his chest.

His scarf is yanked down, hanging loosely beneath his chin as a shaking hand presses lightly over the wound, as if that could stifle the flow of blood. His eyes begin to sting, and it takes Joe a moment to realise that tears are burning them, escaping down his face and plipping onto the ground.

“Stay with me, just hold on... I'll get you to a doctor, they'll fix you up.” He knows it's a lie, but he can't bear to think about the painful reality. William, on the other hand, has already accepted his fate. Blood trickles from his mouth, and Joe lets out a weak sob, shaking his head. “Don't do this, please hold on...”

“I'm glad... we had the time together...that we did. Being with you was... the best thing that ever happened,” William struggles to speak, but he forces himself to get the words out, and Joe only lets out another sob.

“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”

A blood soaked hand shakily reaches up, pressing to Joe's face as tears trickle down his cheeks, and a gloved hand quickly wraps around it, leaning into the touch. There's blood, so much damn blood, and William can only cough up more as his body begins to fail him. The action has Joe holding him tighter, breath trembling.

“Please don't leave me alone..”

William's hand falls from his cheek the second Joe's own hand releases it, and shock freezes the Night Stalker to the core, eyes widening. It takes a few moments for him to register the Huntsman's still form, hand pressing to his chest and frantically searching for the thump of a heart beat, finding nothing.

“William. William, wake up. Don't you fucking do this to me, open your eyes, you fucking bastard..!” His voice breaks, tears dripping onto the man's face as Joe sobs, curling over William's body. His sobs turn to mournful screams, the night echoing with his agony, and when the sun rises, it looks for all the world like he'd become a corpse as well, holding onto his lover's body tightly when his sobs had finally fallen silent.

[kellykadesperate]

make a wish and celebrate

As if I could not write a drabble for my idiot’s birthday. Go crazy:

There's a gentleness about the way the world works at three in the morning, things are quieter and soft in a way that makes Robert grateful. He blinks his eyes open softly against the darkness of the room, rubs his hands over his eyes a little and looks at the clock.

The time shocks him a little, he wasn't sure how late it was and so he decides to just creep back under the sheets and pretend like he hasn't woken himself up a little in hope of getting some work done. It's too late for that now.

He moves Aaron's arm up a little, attempts to be careful and then he feels the younger man groan a little before his eyes widen and he drags Robert closer towards him. "What's the time?" He asks through a mumbled face down on the pillow.

Robert can't bring himself to look at the clock to check again so shrugs out, "About three." He whispers, and Aaron turns to face him suddenly with this sleepy smile on his face.

"Happy birthday." Aaron says, eyes still closed as he speaks and Robert laughs a little breathlessly because he doesn't really care all that much about it anyway. He's just another year older and although Vic wants to do something for him in the pub, Liv's not here and it doesn't get to feel the same. He kisses Aaron all the same though, at first it's chaste and then Aaron tugs at Robert's shirt and drags him down like he wants more.

"Shouldn't I be the one demanding kisses?" Robert mumbles against Aaron's flushed face, kisses at his neck a little before feeling Aaron pull a hand through his hair. "I am the birthday boy."

Aaron gives him this soft smile and wraps an arm around Robert's waist, draws small circles into the left side and then nods. "Yes you are, you can demand anything you like when the sun's up." He says, because he'd love to shag the life of his brilliant, good looking bastard of a husband but Seb got down way too late to allow any fumbling at 3 am.

"Anything?" Robert teases, eyes filled with an intensity that Aaron almost cannot ignore. It's why he slides a hand up through Robert's shirt and it makes the older man catch his breath suddenly.

"Within reason." Aaron says because he's Aaron and Robert rolls his eyes. "Happy birthday." He whispers again, gentle and in love and Robert already knows the day is going to go better than he ever planned.

~*~

The sun spills into the room and Robert feels it warm against his skin and thinks about the fact that they've been blessed with good weather.

He's also reminded of the fact that Aaron has banned him from talking about global warming because apparently when Robert is stripping as soon as he gets home because of the heat and the effects of global warming, it's a massive turn off.

Robert squints against it and then suddenly feels Aaron's mouth on his neck, kissing and kissing and counting and Robert's noes scrunches up a little before he's smiling. He remembers this last year, thirty one kisses. He also remembers thinking that he'd never have it this year or the next or the next, just never again.

Aaron finally finishes his sappy ritual that he tells himself is not at all soppy but actually just sexy. "And, thirty two." He says, with a smile on his face. He's basically straddling Robert and he stares down at the beauty of the man who doesn't look a day over twenty with his hair flat against his forehead and his freckles shimmering in the sunshine. He looks so beautiful that it makes Aaron almost have to catch his breath. But he's not that much of a sop.

"That was enjoyable." Robert mumbles, eyes soft around the way Aaron looks at him. He suddenly strokes over Aaron's arms and it makes the younger man smile even wider and dive down towards him.

"Happy birthday you." Aaron whispers and Robert kisses him passionately, almost pounces on the feel of Aaron being his again and it's fucking ridiculous considering they've been so perfect lately and he really should get over the fact that they ever weren't but -

He'll never ever take something as amazing as Aaron waking up with kisses on his birthday, for granted. He just won't.

"Rob," Aaron laughs out as Robert keeps kissing him and won't let him go. "I'm trying to be romantic and make you breakfast downstairs you dick." He pokes out and Robert gasps a little before smiling.

"Stay here." Robert whines, "Breakfast can wait -"

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "Oh and you're dick can't?" He says, and Robert smirks before pressing his body towards Aaron and smiling.

"Stop trying to be romantic and just come here." Robert demands softly and Aaron obliges and -

He's starting to really feel like the birthday boy.

::

He's got a flipping card from Chas and Paddy when he finally manages to get down the stairs and something almost flips in his stomach as he sees what they've written.

It's not that much and Paddy's only written his name at the end but Robert will take the sentiment of them wishing him a good day. He remembers times when they didn't wish for him to have a good flipping life so every little thing means it lot. Well it should anyway.

Aaron's busying himself in the kitchen when Robert looks through his cards and then spots when it awfully childish handwriting. He frowns against it and then almost on cue Seb starts losing his mind so Aaron runs up to get him.

Robert opens the card and stares at the front of it until Aaron's on the stairs with Seb on his hip looking all cautious.

"Bit daft but I thought you'd like it." Aaron whispers as he approaches Seb who of course stopped whinging as soon as Aaron held him and stroked his hair.

The card says, 'Happy Birthday Daddy' and his soft absolute sap of a husband has actually gone to the effort of writing even worse to try to be like Seb. It's beautiful and endearing and Robert literally nearly cries.

There's tears in his eyes a little and Aaron strokes his hair a little. "Take it you did then?" He whispers and Robert nods his head slowly. "Good." He says and then Robert is kissing the life out of him in their kitchen in only his boxers and he's deliriously happy about everything until Seb slaps his face and demands attention.

"Oi, it's your daddy's birthday. No hitting until 'at least midday." Aaron coos over Seb in a way that makes Robert's legs turn to jelly before he's poking at Aaron's stomach and smiling at the way he looks at him. "So..." Aaron says once Seb is rolling about on his play mat in the living room and shouting about something to himself. "Vic's coming soon to grab Seb and then - we're going out."

Robert scoffs a little, a frown on his face. "You booked somewhere?" He says and somehow Aaron and fancy restaurants doesn't seem to link, Aaron cooking him a meal though seems even weirder though so Robert has no idea what he's up to.

Aaron suddenly turns bright red and goes all insecure suddenly. "Well no, I mean we can hardly afford it but -" his almost flipping cringes. "Shit, I bet it's going to look ridiculous now but -" Robert stands and kisses him gently.

"I can't wait Mr Sugden." Robert shrugs his shoulders and it's been a while since they've been this relaxed and soft around each other. The past few days have been tense and upsetting and challenged them in a way that Robert wasn't ready for but being like this still happens, and Robert is still so grateful that it almost aches.

::

The massive surprise is a day out in the fields and Aaron literally bangs on about how fucking stupid it is all the way to the spot where they last had their picnic.

He remembers then, being happy and light and the only focus being on just how blue Aaron's eyes are and how brilliantly brave he was. The sun is still out and Robert has also been teased the whole way about how much of a dad he looks in his sunglasses.

He doesn't quite get the link but Jimmy agreed with Aaron when he saw them so apparently it's divine law or something. Robert can hear Aaron still yapping about how shit everything is when he finally opens his eyes and is allowed to actually look at Aaron's fine work.

There's a blanket laid out on the field and a proper posh hamper with absolutely everything Aaron promised he'd never ever buy because it's fucking extortionate apparently. But he's gone to the effort hasn't he? All wild salmon and sour cream and cress.

It isn't much but somehow it manages to tug straight at Robert's heart in this beautiful way and Aaron has nothing to worry about at all.

"I bought your laptop as well, some films for us to watch whilst it's nice out." Aaron shakes a hand through his hair and bites his lip as Robert stares around at the place. "It's not -"

"It's amazing, you idiot." Robert blurts out and suddenly it's like he's back to when they were this secret. It's like, them having the responsibility of a baby and Liv somehow makes times like this so much more enjoyable and soft and theirs to relish in. He feels like he did when he got to spend hours at Home Farm in his pants eating cold pizza and playing video games with Aaron and no amount of years will make that memory fade.

"Yeah?" Aaron says, all unsure and soft and Robert nods. "That's a relief." He mumbles gently and Robert comes towards him, all delicate and appreciative and Aaron smiles. "Just wanted you to have something good." He says, rubs at Robert's arm and then pulls them down on the blanket.

"Well this is good. Why am I sending that you're trying to make up for something here?" Robert scoots closer to Aaron and stretches his long dangly legs out so that Aaron sit in between them and look straight at him.

The question makes Aaron blush, head drop and shoulders rise and fall suddenly. "You've been amazing these past few days and - I don't know how I would have coped without you here." Because he had to cope without Robert when Liv was being called a skank and kissing Gabby and that hurt. He knows what it's like and he never wants to go through that again. "It's been a bit rubbish lately, I know that." He squints against he sun and then shakes off his ridiculous insecurity before opening up the hamper wider and watching Robert lose his whole mind over jam.

"Where'd you get -"

Aaron sighs. "I placed an order with that posh farmer's shop that you always look at when we're in town." He was so mortified that he had to do it over the phone and pick it up with sunglasses on like a dick. He smiles as he watches Robert pick up some marmalade or whatever and then his husband's face is falling a little.

It's like Robert is eight again and his mum's in the kitchen making him breakfast. He can almost still remember the absolute sweetness of the air and it clutches at his heart and won't let go. "Mum used to buy this exact one." He waves it up in the air a little and then strokes over the writing. "Thought it was so expensive when I was younger." He chuckles a little and then feels Aaron place a hand on his thigh. "I'm not upset. I'm - it's nice." He says and then he leans over and kisses Aaron quickly.

"I'm glad." Aaron says thickly, because in that moment, Robert looked so vulnerable as he thought back and Aaron just wanted to hold him forever. "Let's eat then birthday boy." He says and it doesn't take long for Aaron to get through most of everything.

Only he's refusing to eat olives and the beers he has are slowly dwindling down so he has to make do with drinking wine from the bottle.

"Dead classy that." Robert says, relaxed against the sun and the way Aaron is a fucking idiot sometimes. Aaron turns to look at him and smiles smugly.

"It's why you married me mate." Aaron says and Robert rolls his eyes before attempting to reach out for the bottle. "Wait your turn," Aaron chastises him and that only starts some ridiculous year four style brawl across the grass and Aaron is breathless against it as Robert pins him down against the blanket.

"It's my birthday." Robert says and Aaron rolls his eyes and pulls at Robert's shirt before his smacking their faces together and kissing him hard and fast over and over again. Because it's his birthday so he deserves all of this, well he does anyway, but it's not been great recently and Aaron wants him to know how much being like this is still one of his favourite things in the world.

"Love you." Robert catches his breath as he rolls off Aaron and holds his hand, they're tangled against the blanket and half the food has gone now and he just loves Aaron.

For this, for taking some sort of time out to come down and set everything up and order food and go the trouble of actually getting a blanket for them.

For being a thoughtful husband and knowing that despite what Diane and Chas said, he didn't want some big lunch or anything like that. He wanted Aaron and Aaron and Aaron and a soft sort of day where everything doesn't feel heavy or dramatic. And Aaron's given him just that.

Aaron turns towards him and nods. "I know you do." He says, body tingling against the way he catches Robert looking at him at the oddest times. He looks like if he took a photo of some moments and carried it around with him, he'd be able to show anyone that love exists and is so clear to see. He remembers thinking fucking sappy stuff like that on the night of their wedding, photos scattered around him and desperate to remember the exact look on Robert's face in all of them before he was behind bars and they couldn't show anyone. "And I love you, so much." He says, runs a hand through Robert's hair and kisses him. "And this." He says.

Robert blinks a little quickly. "Thought I was getting boring?" Because Liv had said it and Aaron had fucking laughed like the twat he is and Robert is not boring. Aaron slaps his chest and laughs a little before shaking his head.

"You are not boring." Aaron says, "You're just domesticated." He shrugs, "Never thought I'd be saying that about you. Robert Sugden, domesticated with me." He bites his lip against it and then his eyes grow heavy with how much all of this means to him.

"Me either." Robert mumbles, "A few months ago, I was destined to spend the day with Seb and Vic." He says. "When all I would have wanted was you." Because it's his birthday and he knows that things have gone so quickly and they're so settled now but he cannot help but think about how different it would have been if Aaron hadn't given him a chance.

"Well you've got me." Aaron says. "Oi, birthday boy, you have me now and next year and the next year and -" Robert covers Aaron's mouth with his hand and then his mouth.

"Forever then?" Robert mumbles, against Aaron's stubble. Aaron nods a little and then blushes as he holds Robert's hand.

"I can take you on a cruise for your next birthday." And there's a giant fucking dig there that makes Robert poke at Aaron suddenly and he starts laughing.

"I'm not *that old you idiot." Robert says, "Soon, you'll be catching up to me and there won't even be a difference." Aaron scoffs a little.

"Whatever you say birthday boy." Aaron mumbles, soft hands stroking Robert's chest.

"I say," he looks around the field and then at the portacabin and grins. "You up for it?"

And as Aaron drags him into the cramped shed of a place and starts stripping Robert, he's definitely still the birthday boy.

::

Aaron looks ridiculously and rather embarrassingly proud when Diane grabs ahold of Robert and kisses his cheek and Victoria makes the most out of being able to poke fun out of her brother for getting so old.

"Poor Aaron having to walk around with an OAP." Vic laughs and Robert just raises an eyebrow and sighs.

Aaron comes over to join them, draining his pint and rubbing a hand over Robert's shoulder lovingly. "Nah, he's still pretty fit." He says, and there's a warmness about him, fuzziness in his heart and it's because he drank wine from a flipping bottle.

"Thanks." Robert says delicately, finds Aaron's hand in his under the table and Vic smiles at them.

"God you're so flipping soppy." Vic says, still smiling and Robert looks at the way Seb is waving his arms around and trying to get to Robert. Aaron takes him though, all comical and happy and with this massive grin on his face.

"I'll take him, you've got a call coming in any second now." Aaron says, Seb hitting his face and playing with his beard all excitedly.

Robert frowns against his words and then suddenly there's an unknown number ringing him in. It takes him a second to properly understand but when he does he suddenly answers.

"Hello?" He says softly and it's Liv's voice at the end of the line. She says hello back and there's something kind about the way she speaks to him.

"They let me ring early, I said I had to wish my sort of brother happy birthday." Liv says, and Robert gulps hard and watches as Aaron smiles at him. "Happy birthday then." She says and Robert walks towards the back room for a little more quiet.

"Thanks. How are you doing?" Because that's all he wants to know, he couldn't really give a ross about his birthday when it's compared to how Liv is doing behind bars.

"It's not about me today, for once. But I'm okay, got my head in a few books because there's nothing else to do here."

And Robert smiles against that, he smiles against the fact that his little sister is going to do brilliant and she can shove her GCSE results right in that judge's 'no future' shit she politely sprouted. "I'm so glad." He says, and then suddenly there's just this quietens between them.

"Good. I - I just wanted to make sure you were having an alright day. I suppose Aaron hadn't put his finger out on a fancy restaurant."

And she laughs as soon as Robert mentions the picnic. It's a sound he's missed so much and it's not even been a week yet but he wants a card from her that only says her name and a single 'x'

"I miss you." Robert says suddenly. "We all do." He whispers, and he's not going to get choked up but he's older now and this is just another year where he gets to say that he has a family.

"I miss you too." Liv admits, "Just look out for Aaron for me." And he still just wants to hug her. "And Seb."

And that make his chin wobble a little and he blows out a breath. "Love you Liv." He says, hears the sound of girls giggling as they pass by and he freezes a little as she clearly waits for them to pass.

"Love you too, happy birthday old man."

With that, she hangs open and Robert suddenly has something in his eyes. Aaron comes in with Seb gurgling about a little and he's clearly obsessed with Aaron's beard nowadays.

"She wanted to surprise ya." Aaron says, balances Seb and then holds a hand up towards Robert's shoulder and squeezes hard. "How did she sound?"

"Brave. Just like you did." Robert says softly, looks up at Aaron. "I love you." He says, and Aaron frowns a little before nodding and kissing him gently. "Can't wait till we're all together again." He says softly against Aaron's neck and the way Seb bobs his head around with joy.

"Me either." Aaron sniffs past his emotions and smiles. "But let's not that think about that now. It's your birthday you twat." He keeps reminding Robert and feels like shit for taking anything away from his special day. But then Robert reminds him that he's not ten and Aaron stops. "Come back inside." He says.

Robert nods and Aaron grabs his hand and leads him back out into the pub. When he's standing on the other side of the bar, the lights suddenly dim and -

Vic carries out a cake for him, everyone's singing and laughing and Robert can actually hear the Dingle's wishing him a happy birthday and it feels surreal. When it comes round to the whole making a wish thing, he looks straight at Aaron and the way he bounces Seb and points towards the cake and all he wishes is that he gets to keep them forever.

He wishes that Liv is in between them and the room is brighter and it never ever fades away.

Everyone claps and cheers and Robert sees his name written on the cake, Marlon too smug that he had to help Vic with the icing of it. Somehow Robert's birthday cake became a project and he blushes under the argument taking place between the pair before he looks at Aaron and catches his breath.

He's just being himself, pacing the room a little and trying to keep Seb happy because he's getting a little overwhelmed with all the faces telling him he's adorable. And Aaron's not wearing anything special but is special isn't he? Just standing there with his hair all soft and curled and looking like a fucking dream.

And then he goes and waves at Robert just as Cain offers him to buy him a pint, mouths out 'I love you' like he doesn't care who sees and then 'happy birthday' and Robert isn't sure how he hasn't turned into a pile of goo on the floor.

::

Robert's eaten too much cake to move off from the sofa and put a sleeping Seb in his crib so he just watches him with a smile on his face until he hears Aaron coming down the stairs.

He's in a suit for absolutely no reason because it's nearly half seven and they're clearly not going anyway.

"What's all this for then?" Robert mumbles, his stomach in knots as he sees how beautiful Aaron looks. He imagines Aaron like this in his dreams and it's too embarrassing to admit to how much it makes his whole body flip.

Aaron has a blue balloon behind his back and smiles before pulling it in front of him and shrugging. "You do prefer me in a suit." And he'll only go to the effort of digging out his blue suit for Robert only once a flipping year. Or maybe more than that. Aaron Dingle is fully aware that he can be a thoughtful soft sap when it comes to his family and especially when it comes to the bloke who he's in love with.

Robert's mouth is a little dry and he has to gulp hard. "I prefer you naked." He says, only Aaron scoffs and points to Seb.

"Not in front of the little one." And Robert adores when he calls Seb that. It literally makes his heart melt and everything feel fuzzy. "It's sort of a present for you." He waves a hand out over himself smugly and then places the ballon closer to Robert before bending down and getting out a packaged parcel and handing it over.

They're almost synchronised in the way that he passes the present and Robert passed him a sleeping Seb and it all goes fine before the little boy is crying and demanding to be held over Aaron's shoulder.

Robert struggles with Aaron's awful attempt at wrapping and then opens up the present to reveal what's inside. At first he isn't too sure and Aaron holds his breath as he watches him. There's a small car inside, some old vintage one that Robert is obsessed with. He smiles down at it and then hears the sound of an envelope being put on the table. As he opens it Aaron suddenly can't contain himself.

"I haven't bought you a car." He blurts out. "But it's - like some day where you can go and race all the old ones. Try it out. I don't know - maybe when we're millionaires I could track one down for you." He's clearly all nervous but he doesn't have to be because Robert is so touched.

"It's amazing." Robert says, like he's flipping five. "I've always wanted to - wait how did you -"

"I'd like to think I know you." Aaron shrugs, bends down a little and Robert takes the opportunity to kiss the life out of him. Aaron's lips are almost bruised by the time Seb decides that he really needs to be put to bed and Aaron's going up with him.

Robert's caught up in the softness of the present and the fact that Aaron managed to deliver it with a suit on just because. The car looks pretty expensive, one of those collectible items that Aaron turns his nose up at but apparently that doesn't matter when it comes to Robert.

The thought makes him feel so suddenly overwhelmed and then he spots Aaron's card. The only one he hasn't opened yet.

It's a typical one really and him and Liv are almost the same person sometimes.

He's written 'Dear Robert' like normal and then he's gone and tugged straight at Robert's heart with his words.

He's all 'You deserve have the best day, and I hope you do' and 'I love you so much' and then he signs it with 'All the love in the world, Mr Sugden' and Robert can't help but think about the fact that he'll keep it forever.

::

Robert won't stop googling this flipping vintage car track thingy and Aaron's almost regretting his kind gesture. Almost.

They're in bed now and they've already stuffed themselves with Chinese and somehow managed to enjoy two rounds of birthday sex before Robert almost passed out and Aaron had to slap his cheeks a little with a concerned look on his face before he smiled.

Now, Robert's glued to his phone and Aaron's a needy bastard who lines up Robert's freckles with his finger and kisses at his shoulder. "I get it. You like the present." He says, and he can hear the way Robert is still flipping panting.

It's almost hilarious and when he drops his phone down on the side and looks at Aaron, he's almost still blissfully dazed like he was a few minutes ago.

"I like you more." Robert says, and apparently having wine with a Chinese just like Aaron said, wasn't a good idea. He's sloppy with how much love he shows Aaron and kisses him on the neck as the younger man wriggles away a little and laughs.

"You had a good day then?" Aaron whispers, combs through Robert's hair the way his knows his husband like it and then kisses his head when he feels him nod.

"Almost doesn't feel real." Robert admits, because Aaron's probably said happy birthday to him about thirty times today and he had a small little celebration in the pub and a handmade cake and -

"What? Being another year older than me?" Aaron tries to poke but then Robert's looking up at him all sincerely.

"Having you back." Robert whispers and Aaron goes to say something but he places a hand down on his chest. "I never thought I'd have you here, have your mum and Paddy singing me happy birthday. Because of all those things I did and -"

"If you tell me you don't deserve a day like today then -"

"Sometimes I feel like I don't." Robert has his head dropped a little and Aaron raises him gently.

"That's why I'm here to tell ya." Aaron says to him. "You deserve this, me putting on a suit for you and you getting to take it off." He smirks it a little and Robert warms. "I know what you mean though, there was a time I didn't think I'd get to treat you on your birthday ever again and it hurt." His chin threatens to wobble, only Robert rubs at his cheek and he smiles instead. "But look at us eh?"

Robert looks down at the way their hands are locked together and Aaron shudders a little like he's preparing to say something soft.

And oh, he delivers.

"I promise to keep being this - this soppy and stupid on your birthday every single year okay? Forever." Aaron whispers, eyes almost watering because he wants Robert to know how much he absolutely adores him and how much today has meant to him too. "Because I love you so so much."

Robert suddenly kisses him, pulls a hand around the back of Aaron's neck and smiles at the way Aaron kisses him back with just as much heat. It's beautiful, and soft and it's nearly not his birthday but who the fuck cares about time when Aaron's promising to be like this for the rest of his life.

It's almost overwhelming and he cannot think of anything other than the fact that he's so lucky to have this little life of his, in spite of all the bad. He almost gets emotional against it and then Aaron is moving away and diving down towards the bedside table.

"One last thing." Aaron passes over a small box and if Robert wasn't already wearing a ring he'd lose his shit. Aaron brings the sheets up over his naked body and shivers a little as he waits for Robert to open it.

And when he does, Aaron suddenly smirks and can't stop smirking. Robert, on the other hand, is completely flawed by the fact that his long lost watch is in a new velvet lined box.

"I lost this." Robert frowns as he brings it out of the cushion and holds up against the fading light of the moon. "Ages ago. Remember I asked you if -"

Aaron pulls a face, soft and warm and childish.

"You found it and didn't tell me?"

Only,

"It was never lost. I just wanted to keep something of yours." Aaron shrugs, like it's no big deal or anything like that but Robert's heart swoons.

He suddenly pulls Aaron closer to him and kisses him gently on the mouth before gazing at his blue eyes. "You, Aaron Dingle, are an absolute softy."

And Aaron will take that, here, in their bed, naked and spent and just happy. If Robert goes around saying anything to anyone then that will be a different story.

"Only for you so don't go around telling people I hoarded my then exes watch for months and months before giving it back to him as a birthday present." Because it sounds flipping weird but Robert is given him heart eyes like he thinks it's the best thing in the world and that's all that seems to matter really.

Robert kisses him again and then slides down beside him, hugs at Aaron's frame and sighs contently.

"Had a good day." Robert says through a yawn. "'Cause of you." He whispers. "Always - always 'cause of you." And Aaron's heart swoons in this embarrassing way before he squeezes Robert's hand.

"Good. Happy birthday." Aaron mumbles back, strokes Robert's hand now and then sighs. "Love you."

And Robert kisses Aaron's hand, yawns again. "Love you too." He mumbles, with an absolute softness about him that makes him feel like he's ten years old who's had all his jelly and ice cream and the best present in the world.

It makes something flip in his head just as he closes his eyes and dreams about having days like this year after year after year.

[ivyfics]

Is this a Joke? - (fic)

To the far back of the room, a banner. Up high and lopsided, with big baby-blue sparkling letters that read, “April Fool’s!” Stone cold dread sinks his gut to the floor. “Oh no,”he moans. “No.This can’t be happening.” His legs spring up in shock, bracing his arm against the table. “This cannot be happening.”

Kuroo confesses. Or a least he tries to. 

Read on AO3  

Pairing:KuroTsuki Rating: T

He’s been quiet since he sat down. Fidgety, too, running his hands through his hair more than usual. He can’t phantom what that mess looks like right now, but his hair isn’t what is on his mind at the moment.

Tsukki is reading quietly beside him, unmoving since Tetsurou gave him a jerky wave and dumped himself in the hard yellow plastic of the chair next to him. The cold air of the library seeps in through the gap between his low socks and the cropped hem of his jeans, meaning he accidentally grabbed one of Bokuto’s tailored ones from the fresh pile of laundry they haven’t sorted instead of one of his own.

That’s fine. Jeans don’t matter today because today, oh-oh , today is the Day. Tetsurou’s bed was witness to one of the worst night of tossing and turning, planning and thinking, going over and over if should or shouldn't; if he can or can’t or ‘maybe it’s a bad idea’ until he gave up on it closing in on four in the morning and said ‘Fuck it’ with a big-ass, capital F.

Tetsurou is just on the right side of sleep deprived to make it work, coming out of a hellish week where three different deadlines piled up, two of which involved working with others. A careful cocktail of energy drinks, coffee, adrenaline, and lack of sleep are running through his veins and making it possible for him to saddle-up and do it. It doesn’t aid his fidgeting, but you win some, you lose some.

Tsukki looks as naturally put-together as he usually does, clad in a navy hoodie and light wash jeans, hair tousled in a that careless way that makes him look soft and inviting. ‘Soft’ and ‘inviting’ are not what he would use to describe the prickly blonde if anyone asked, but the past six months of wearing Tsukki down has given Tetsurou the privilege of finding both of those in their shared space in a quiet library.

That safe mood he finds comfort in is exactly what makes him so nervous—and he’s nervous out of his ass. Blame it on the caffeine or the fact that he’s about to try and ask Tsukki out, but this is the most terrified he’s felt in a while.

In the end, there’s nothing else to do but bite the bullet.

Tetsurou clears his throat, hyping himself up. “So, Tsukki…”

“Are you finally saying whatever it is that you’ve been squirming about? Go ahead.”

Tsukki glances up from his book (he’s so pretty, fuck, what the fuck, especially with how the sunlight from the window halos his hair), but he doesn’t keep his eyes on Tetsurou, something to show he’s listening without the added pressure of eye contact. Sometimes Tsukki is a saint like that.

This is his time. He’s practiced this in front of a mirror a thousand times. He opens his mouth—

But Tsukki glances up again, this time hooking his warm honey eyes on Tetsurou and whatever plan there was evaporates as he rushes out. “I kinda like like you.”

Whelp.

Tetsurou deflates, running out of steam halfway and finishing the terrible, awkward sentence with, “So, do…. uh—you want to do something?”

The quiet around them is deafening. The mood around them falls into a chill that runs up Tetsurou’s spine, giving him the wrong kind of goosebumps.

Tsukki’s eye are the hardest they’ve ever been. “Do you think this is funny?”

Tetsurou wasn’t expecting Tsukki to fall to his feet in joy or whatever but he was expecting at least a positive response. “What?”

Tsukki looks mad. Mad, mad. Actually, genuinely upset as he briskly picks up his belongings around him and starts shoving them in his bag. “You know, out of everyone I expected this from, you were not it. You can be insufferable but I didn’t think you were an asshole.”

“Tsukki?” He reaches out to hold Kei’s elbow when it’s clear he’s walking away from their table, “Hey,where are you—”

Tsukki jerks his arm away from Tetsurou’s grasp and quietly fumes as he leaves.

Tetsurou is lost. He is sure he had read it right, and even in the case he hadn’t, Kei isn’t the type of person to reject someone like that. He’s confused. His eyes roam around, trying to get his bearings and then halting completely.

His world stops when he sees it, spinning out of its axis.

To the far back of the room, a banner. Up high and lopsided, with big baby-blue sparkling letters that read, “April Fool’s!”

Stone cold dread sinks his gut to the floor. “Oh no,” he moans. “No. This can’t be happening.” His legs spring up in shock, bracing his arm against the table. “This cannot be happening.”

Gray metal of the chair clatters against the floor in his haste, gathering the eyes of those around him and one particularly vicious shhh! from the librarian. He stumbles, a little, and sends an apologetic wince her way before righting the chair and gathering his things with shaking hands.

The second he steps foot outside the sacred temple of books, he lets loose every ounce of jittery adrenaline.

Tetsurou sprints. He runs. Runs harder and harder, weaving himself through the crowds of snail-paced pedestrians with seemingly nothing better to do than stand in his way until his lungs hurt and his legs burn.

Curse Tsukki’s perfectly long legs, and his huffy irritated walk that is too cute to come from something Tetsurou did wrong. Those scarce minutes he stood there collecting himself were enough to have Tsukki’s gait carry him beyond Tetsurou’s line of sight. Luckily for him, they’ve walked this way together more than once. More than several times, actually.

It keeps him steady. He did not spend the best part of a month trying to get the courage to do this only to have Tsukki be hurt, or confused. Even for a single day.

Tetsurou knows he’s been insufferable, he knows . He hasn’t been able to stand himself, pining and sighing away for someone who likes him back, too afraid to make the first move. It’s clear to him, a mirror of his own timid affection.

He can read it in every shy look sent his way when he’s too busy pretending he’s not looking back. It’s telegraphed in every bump of their shoulders when Tsukki’s walls are weak and he joins them in being an idiot, laughing at nothing and everything and driving them all crazy with his stupid arguments.

When they fight just to fight because it’s fun .

Tetsurou catches him at the bus stop. He sees a head of blonde hair and a pair of white headphones and he pushes his body forward until momentum makes him almost dive head-first into the lady standing next to Tsukki. It earns him the most judgemental side eye of his life, but it’s worth it when he’s stopped by Tsukki’s hand tangling in his shirt.

He swerves, hitting Tsukki’s side.

“Just what are you doing?”

“You—I—didn’t,” he heaves, and just out of shape is he? He needs to get back to the gym. “I didn’t know the date!” Tetsurou huffs out hard once, and then back in, muttering a fucking April fool’s under his breath. “It’s not a prank. It’s not. I wouldn’t do that.”

He’s met with an eye-roll. “You really expect me to believe that a weird ’ I kinda like you, do you wanna do something ’ is how you ask people out? You are not that awkward. I’ve seen you eloquently argue against bread. ”

Tetsurou sputters, because not only has he argued against bread, Tsukki joined in and helped him , “That’s not the same!”

Arms crossed, Tsukki asks, “How is it different?”

“I don’t want bread to be my boyfriend!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I mean—my bad, obviously, but…”

Tsukki looks unsure still. The bus arrives, the breaks loud and startling when both of them have been paying attention to anything but the road. Tetsurou straightens out completely, finally forcing Kei’s hand to leave his shirt. “Pretend it didn’t happen or, or, that it was a trial run or something. I’ll ask again. Better. A lot better.”

After a moment or two, Tsukki nods, and Tetsurou can take a full breath of air again. There’s an awkwardness around them that Tetsurou will take the blame for, but he won’t give up. Tomorrow, he’ll ask out Tsukki in the best way and then they can forget about this whole thing.

Before getting on the bus, Tsukki turns. The corner of his lip is held by his teeth before he takes a deep breath and brings his hands up to remove his human mask, fingers finding the seam that joins his neck piece and face together. His blonde hair comes with it, falling to the floor along with his black frames, now unneeded.

Green, shimmery scales are exposed to the April breeze, glistening from the hard, reflective material they are made of. Tsukki shakes his head to fluff out his scales, making their hue turn from deep sappy green, to golden ochre, to chartreuse, unknowingly giving Tetsurou a boner. His large beady eyes glow yellow in the day, a forked pink tongue coming out to hiss and prod at his own rounded snout, the slits that make up his nostrils flaring.

He’s beautiful.

Tetsurou falls to his knees in awe of the beautiful lizardman that stands before him, unable to gaze at him godly features with his measly human eyes. “Please. End me, you gorgeous, majestic beast,” Tetsurou pleads.

Tsukki nods again, unhinging his jaw and eating Tetsurou whole.

They’re dating now.

Together.

Forever.

[moodring89]

CH.4 Down the Rabbit Hole

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader / Side Yoonseok Chapter Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: Fantasy, Hybrid AU (Prince Bunkook. Sue me.), Royal AU, Cinderella / Labyrinth feels Summary: Yoongi’s sister buys two tickets to the Autumn ball held at the Meadows, a notorious city known for its hybrid inhabitants, where she hopes to meet a certain bunny princeling.

A/N: Hello! First of all, sorry this took so long to finish. Like, seriously, so much happened in the middle of me writing this story. I lost someone, I was sick, I had to write two difficult parts. Lost my damn house. I’m needing emergency teeth work done. Sounds like excuses, but we’re here now, right? And there was so much to squeeze into this chapter. It’s so…extended. Not sorry though. The longest process was the editing, though.    About the update chapter deletion: I did not realize that by deleting chapter 4’s update, that it would delete the comments you guys wrote. I still have what you guys said, but everyone who I replied to, probably didn’t get my responses. I’m not sure why I thought it wouldn’t delete the comments. Goddamn. A/N/N: I tried to wrap this up neatly. I’m not sure if I did or not and if I didn’t, I do have a CC account that you can feel free to ask your questions at...I hope to high hell that this story is not sappy af. I tried not to be sappy, but I cannot be objective about my own work. I can only hope that you guys enjoy it. Thank you to Melissa for looking over my story. I do believe that I’ve taken up enough of your time. Please enjoy!  

Inspiration log #4 - Sweeter than sweet

04: Down the Rabbit Hole (Happily Ever After)

Weeks would pass, until she saw the prince again.

A fairy’s vision brought her this new life, but she didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or not. She’d decided to stay for now, although the option of leaving had never come up in conversation, unless it was with Yoongi. Her pocket-sized brother, with his too large a mouth, and rude quips, so much like her inner self. He wouldn’t want to leave, either. The Meadows was a beautiful place for them to live. High up from her lavish room inside the castle, she watched as the sun started to descend over the kingdom.

At six, she would be summoned for dinner.

It was part of her new daily, royal routine. She’d been forced to change her sleep schedule to accommodate its hellish timeline. Breakfast was at six in the morning, but due to her extensive, yet ridiculous wardrobe, she had to be up at five, so that the Queen’s ladies in waiting could assist her with getting dressed, and styling her hair. She’d never cared to go beyond looking presentable, she still didn’t – until she caught a glimpse of the king’s court.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her in-laws, who just so happened to rule over an entire fucking kingdom. Hybrid royals, dressed in their best fashion. Young, beautiful rabbit hybrids who would have been better suited for the prince.

“Stop,” Jimin scolded her, able to hear her thoughts, as well as feel all of her budding doubts from his spot beside her. His wings fluttered opened and closed as quick as a blink, a sign of his unnerve, like he was ready to up and take flight. “You’re wrong and I can say that definitively.”

“Sorry,” she sighed, pulling herself away from the balcony. “Where’s Tae?”

“Slaving over your wedding present. These days, he even forgets to eat and fights me on rest.” Jimin scrunched his nose at her genuine look of worry, calming her, “I’ve been doing well with reminding him to take breaks and my wolf knows his place, so he doesn’t sass me as much as he does with others. You’re gonna love it, by the way, the present.”

The wedding present that Jimin could already see in his mind, but wouldn’t divulge. For the wedding that the Queen doesn’t stop gushing about, especially during dinner, like it was her only topic material for conversation. Bonus, she’d spent enough time with the King and Queen to do a basic comparison. Jeongguk’s outward behavior was much like his father, strong and masculine, making his presence goddamn imposing. She’d tried to find traces of his mother’s softness, but had come up short. Instead, she’d found most of their likeness in their shared bouts of shamelessness – delicate features, and simmering tempers.    

The dinner bell chimed throughout the palace and she inwardly groaned at the thought of sitting through another long wedding discussion that she couldn’t even weigh in on. The Queen seemed to be in favor of seeing to all of the arrangements herself and wasn’t interested in any outside input, not even from the bride. Perhaps it was a recreation of the wedding the Queen wished she’d had in the first place and she was now living vicariously through her son’s marriage.

Jimin helped her into her heels, offering his hand to steady her. The first few steps were always shaky, so he kept a hold of her.  

Curious was an understatement, as the next question had bubbled on the tip of her tongue for days. She didn’t want to succumb to this level of care, but, “How is his highness?”

“This is the first time that you’ve inquired,” Jimin noted with the amusement there in his tone, as they stepped out into the hallway, walking the familiar route to the dining hall. His wings fanned, contentedly, “To answer your question, the prince is doing what he does best. He’s engaged in competition, one of which he doesn’t much care to lose. I should mention that I’ve never seen the prince in an outright state of defeat. Even when he loses, Jeongguk makes sure he gains.”

She’d imagined that the prince enjoyed a variety of sports, given his physique. None of the articles had been specific about his hobbies in the past and it was something she wished to learn, even now. She readied herself, “So, like, fencing? Chess?”

“You.”

Clearly, she hadn’t been prepared for the answer.

“Oh.” ‘kay then.

The dining hall was a considerably smaller, more intimate room inside the castle. It was easily to tell that it’d been meant for family and not an entire kingdom. Therefore, it was probably one of her favorite rooms, apart from her own, and the ballroom. It would have been better if Jeongguk would come to dinner. During the first week of her stay, she’d been too anxious to eat to her contentment. Jimin was the one sending food to her room each night, before the kitchen closed. However, she’d learned not to expect the prince by now.

The girl took her usual spot between the King and Queen, greeting them cheerfully out of habit, and as a legitimate attempt at easing the awkwardness. The neat, empty plate setting across from her own did not affect her anymore.

“Your father has been enjoying the royal gardens,” the king said, breaking the silence with a start at friendly conversation, which she appreciated – truly. It was probably for her sake and for that, she’d been grateful. “I gifted him with his choice of camera, so that he may capture the palace flowers in full bloom. Journalists would kill to have access to our land. Your father’s photographs will be considered a rarity, therefore of value.”

If she knew her father, he would use this opportunity to upload as much photography as possible, so that he could also promote their family’s florist shop, despite the agricultural differences between the Meadows and human kingdoms being practically endless. He would find a way to use their new circumstances for his own selfish gain. It seemed like the Jeon family already knew of this fact, thus they further enabled him to do so, assisting him with his questionable endeavors, but on their terms.

Were they trying to take caring of her father or family’s future by doing this? What an oddly warm concept for royals.

“My mother was a botanist and after she passed away, my father took over her business, and he became rather passionate about the study of flowers.” Oh, holy shit – she hadn’t said that to anyone, ever. It was seldom that she brought up her mother. What would be next? Her father’s cacti collection? There was never a proper discussion between herself and her brother, not even with her father, and yet it had come out so easily just then.

“I’m sure she was a lovely woman,” the Queen offered with a smile that radiated comfort and warmth. It’s been so wholesome and kind in its delivery, which only made the girl feel more vulnerable.

“She was.”

Jeongguk’s father looked around the table, perhaps taking notice of how empty it was suddenly. He looked to the empty seat beside her, “Your brother has been skipping meals, as well. I heard that he spends most of his time at the library as of late.” He looked to his queen, pulling her into the conversation. “The boy told me that he wanted to be reacquainted with the grand piano, so I allowed him to do just that, but he played it so beautifully, it was as though they’d never departed in the first place.”

“My brother,” the girl said with a start, fully prepared to tell them all about Yoongi’s passion for hip-hop and synthesizing. How he’d poured himself into his music, but it didn’t feel like it was her place. She let it drop. “He loves music. I hope he can play something for us soon.”

The Queen turned to one of her maids, “Can you kindly ask that Hoseok call upon Yoongi for us? Thank you, dear.” She was smiling so sweetly that the girl had to wonder if the queen knew, like really knew about her brother, and the head of her royal guard – if she had, perhaps sent the fox hybrid to get Yoongi on purpose. “Now, let’s discuss cake. I was thinking of vanilla spice or sweet potato. I, myself, had a simple carrot cake for my wedding. It was stereotypical…”

The King sighed, heavily. “It’s my favorite. Why are you still upset about this? You’re going to ruin the flavor for me.”

Dinner was always in three courses, a large salad that she could never even hope to finish, followed by a protein. Hybrids were half human, so they required a healthy meat intake. It wasn’t wildly surprising and she’d been grateful, but it was obvious that they’d paid more attention to greens. Even the beverages were limited to vegetable and fruit cocktails.

She recalled the pinched look of complete and utter disgust upon Yoongi’s face, when he’d tried a lemon-ginger sparkler. The liquid fell from his slackened lips, pouring it directly back into the glass from his mouth. His face was so comically soured, as he asked Taehyung, ‘Did I just drink piss? Is this piss?’

The wolf hybrid raised a quizzical brow, ‘And how do you know what piss tastes like, hyung?’

Dessert was always interesting and was probably her favorite course. It could range anywhere from between creamy, spring blossom pudding to ironic bunny top cupcakes.

As the food was being served, the Queen settled her napkin onto her lap, and peered over at the girl, “I’ve already requested that Mimzy come at once, so that she can get started on your dress. Have you thought of what you’d like?”

This was new. “Well, I –”

“Of course you haven’t, dear,” she said, cutting the human off abruptly. “I’ve been positively obsessed with fishtail gowns as of late. A nice, lovely pink color would look best on you, I think. Standing next to our Jeonggukie with all the candles and the tulips, and oh, I just can’t stop thinking about how lovely it’s going to be.”

Right, yes, of course. How stupid of her to believe that the Queen was actually interested in her input, what with that, ‘Mother knows best’ attitude she had going for her. How did Jeongguk ever survive for this long?   

“Son,” the King greeted, as a typical fondness spread over the rabbit hybrid’s features, pleasantly surprised. Meanwhile, that single word was enough to make the girl freeze on the spot, too afraid to so much as glance in Jeongguk’s general direction. It had been nearly two weeks later that her fiancé decided to suddenly show up now, out of the blue, as though time hadn’t passed between them.  

Jeongguk’s formally bowed, before he’d addressed both his parents. He was speaking to them in a tone that was lighter than she remembered, softer somehow. In her all the memories she’d kept replaying, the hybrid’s voice was breathy and low, calling her perfect, demanding that she beg for him. Yeah, there was no way in fuck she was going to look at him. Not now. There was a hand gripping the back of her chair, the familiar spice of the Prince’s cologne hitting her senses when he’d closed her in. She inclined her head towards him, eyes focused on the carpet. The warmth of his breath hit her cheek he was so close, when he’d murmured a simple, “Princess.”

Despite it coming off as simplistic, she could hear the underlying heat practically dripping from the single word, intimate in the nature of which he’d said it, although sharing the same likeness to that of an insult. She ignored the shiver that’d run up her spine at that, resolving that her body was just a goddamn traitor. He circled the table towards his seat, where trays of food were already being set down before him. Still – she could not bear to cast her eyes at him, even while he was seated directly across from her with nothing but mere inches of table separating them. 

“Forgive me for my long absence,” Jeongguk said, doing his best to sound so sweetly apologetic. Even the bow of his head had seemed like a sincere gesture from out of her peripheral, but she knew better. He continued, “The wedding occupies my thoughts regularly. Seeing the princess is but a bitter reminder of how I must wait to have her, even whilst she is within arm’s reach.”

She could feel the weight of his eyes on her then, as though burning metaphorical holes into her skin. It was a habit, a stupid habit all the same, when her eyes finally flickered to his, unprepared to be met with the dark, doe-eyed stare that awaited her. He looked thoroughly unsettled, not quite nearly as satisfied with just staring at her – the hybrid was a visual wreck, haplessly in ruins by his own self-restraint. And yet, there was beauty to be admired, brown hair parted to perfection, sun golden skin contrasting against the rich black cotton he was wearing, coupled with a choker made of silk that was fitted around his neck.

She felt trapped, then, “I’m sorry to be the obvious cause to your displeasure, your highness.”

He wetted his plush lips with the point of his tongue, catching her attention. “Those are just pretty, ineffective words in the end. I prefer action.”

Right in front of his parents, too, that’s nice.

She tried not to roll her eyes at him, fully aware of how rude it would be in the presence at a time such as this one. If they’d been alone, however, she would have let him have it. Changing the subject, she smiled with faux innocence, “Surely seeing each other more often would quell your sorrows. Please come to dinner from now on, my prince.”

The King clasped his hands together, the smack resounding in the quiet space. “How can my son possibly refuse such an offer? She’s so delightful.”

If only Yoongi were here to throw in some dry humor, perhaps try his hand at easing the tension growing in the room. Hell, she’d settled for anything. He could say something vaguely crass towards the Queen – anything, anything but this – this moment. Which reminded her, Hoseok was sure taking his sweet ass time.

Good.

Yoongi removed the book from his face, having used it to block out the light in the royal library, while he took his evening nap. It was Seokjin’s fault that he practically lived there now, waking up to the smell of hardcover, and taking in as much hybrid literature as one human could possibly withstand. The doctor casually dropped that there were books on hybrids of all breeds, but there was such little on foxes. The small bits and pieces he found were sacred to him, mentally bookmarked, and cataloged. He’d spent so much time reading, while successfully avoiding Hoseok in the process, knowing that he’d only suffer otherwise. The fox was terrifying, well and truly. So, instead of taking his inquiries directly to Hoseok himself, he’d spent long afternoons engaged in conversation with the Queen about the fox hybrid. What does the head of the Queen’s guard do? How did Hoseok come to fall into such a position? What drastic measures had Hoseok taken in order to protect her? Yoongi was entertained by these thoughts, in his own obvious interest that was being cradled safely inside the Queen’s palm, as she answered his every question. She wasn’t lacking in detail, either, as she described close calls, as well as candid examples of Hoseok’s many acts of heroism.    Now that Yoongi knew more, he could safely admit to himself that it wasn’t enough. Somehow he knew that it would never be enough and it was with that knowledge in mind that, he decided that touching Hoseok wouldn’t be in his best interest. Thusly, he’d chose to ignore the redheaded enigma, practically diving out of the hybrid’s line of sight, as though one look would strike him down – hell, it probably would. He had that level of faith and confidence in Jung Hoseok. The blonde sat up from his spot on the table with a tired yawn, ruffling his hair out of his face. He’d heard the dinner bell when it had gone off, but he’d been too lazy to move at the time. Actually, he’d been too damn lazy to do much of anything recently. The last productive thing he could recall doing was locking the door to the ballroom, so that he could bend his fingers across the keys of the grand piano without being interrupted. Again. He placed the book down and made to hop down, when a loose thread of his sweater caught onto a piece of splintered wood. The tables in the library were ancient, despite appearing so finely polished, and in mint condition. He pulled on the hem of his shirt, watching as the stitching continued to unravel with every unwise tug. “Oh, for the love of Luna,” Yoongi cursed, as he wrapped the string around his finger, intending to pull it free, when a hand suddenly closed around his wrist, both startling and stopping him. He hadn’t even heard the doors being opened, let alone any steps advancing towards him. What the fuck?   “I wouldn’t,” warned an amused voice, or the voice, rather. Yoongi immediately knew its source, whom it belonged to, and that it was Hoseok standing there next to him, being close, too fucking close in Yoongi’s opinion, skin to skin in a gentle touch that could do just as much to light him aflame. The fox’s tail curled slightly, as he concentrated on the thread going from the table to bottom of Yoongi’s sweater. “Hold still for me, hyung.” Hold still, when Yoongi couldn’t even breathe properly. The hybrid drew a thin, delicate throwing dagger from one of the leather satchels on his belt – steadying Yoongi’s wrist, as he carefully sliced through the thread from beneath where it was cutting into the blonde’s finger. The hybrid then casually tucked the weapon away, before tying the string still attached to the blonde’s sweater as close as he could get it to the stitching, knotting it firmly. “It’ll probably be ruined next wash,” Hoseok said, tsking at the damage. The hybrid stared down at the elder, dark eyes cutting. “What?” “The Queen said that you’re even better with a bow.” And why the hell did that just pour from his mouth? He blinked away at the shock, trying to recover himself. “I mean, she’d said in passing that you sometimes represent her in the Archery Leagues, and that you win too often.” ‘Too often’ was supposed to elicit some kind of reaction from Hoseok, perhaps a laugh, a smile – even a modest reply would have done nicely, but all Yoongi was met with was an eerie quiet.   The tip of Hoseok’s tongue wet the surface of his bottom lip, “Interesting conversation that you’ve scored with me. A better conversation would be why you’ve hidden yourself from my sight, avoiding me as though you’re good at it, hyung.” Yoongi wasn’t very good at lying, but he liked exercising his rights, “I haven’t been.” “Oh, but you have, and I have theories,” Hoseok said, using his nearness to press Yoongi against the table, the wood digging into the back of the elder’s thighs. “All of this reading up on fox hybrids…” He tapped his finger down on the book Yoongi had been rifling through for the emphasis. “And you’ve learned nothing, have you, hyung? Well, allow me clue you in, then. All of my senses are heightened and sensitive. So, I can smell you, before I even see you.” The blonde swallowed hard at the implication that Hoseok had known of his whereabouts the entire time, which would mean all of his efforts had been in vain. Yoongi’s heart was racing at a speed that he was not used to dealing with, willing himself to calm down. There was no such luck with the way Hoseok was closing him in, the fox’s hands flat against the table at the sides of Yoongi’s waist. He’d felt helplessly trapped, but in a way that he preferred to be, wanting Hoseok, yet fearing him all at once. “Apart from smelling you, I can also hear you, hyung.” Yoongi closed his eyes against the low, dark tone the fox had taken on, shuddering pleasantly, because fuck – he wanted to be devoured, right here and now. The only thing stopping him from sitting on the table, all open and willing, was because he wanted Hoseok to be the one to place him there. “I had to dismiss my guards from your door the other night to give you privacy. You were being so very loud and you smelled so fucking good…” The other night, when the Queen had given Yoongi his fill of information, satisfying his every curiosity with the promise of more the following day. He’d been three fingers deep, envisioning Hoseok fucking into him ruthlessly with his wrists pinned to his back, as the other went to the front of his throat. Because when Yoongi thought of Hoseok, all he could think of was predator. “My theory, hyung, is that you want me. You want me so badly that you’re fisting your cock every night, whining into your pillow, pretending that it’s me. I heard you say it…” Hoseok’s hips met his own, allowing the blonde to feel his arousal, already so hard through the layers of their clothing. “You said my name. You said, ‘Hoseok, please fuck me…’ and it was the loveliest, yet the filthiest thing I’d ever heard, and I want to hear it again.” Hoseok was chasing him, crowding the human, angling his face with every overwhelmed turn of Yoongi’s, inching closer still. The blonde had no other choice but to be honest then, the guilt evident and thick in his voice, “I’m fucking obsessed with you.” The slow forming smirk that grew upon Hoseok’s face was goddamn indecent then and it took everything in Yoongi not to – ah, fuck it. He drew the hybrid in closer to his height, fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck, desperate almost. Yoongi expelled the air from his lungs in a long, shaky exhale. He was trembling, so ready to break beneath the younger, should the fox deem it necessary. One look was all Hoseok needed in order to know, to truly understand that the human was too far gone – that they made a mess of one another with such minimal contact, that avoiding it for too much longer would only make it worse. He brought his hands to the small of Yoongi’s waist, placing him on top of the table. It was automatic, the way his legs so readily parted around Hoseok’s hips, pulling him in closer. The hand on the back of Hoseok’s neck grew more insistent, blunt nails digging into soft golden skin. Yoongi needed – his lips falling open, waiting with bated breath. “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. I already know it,” Hoseok confessed, touching the tips of his fingers to the curve of Yoongi’s jawline, angling the elder’s face up to meet his own. The hybrid’s eyes darkened, “Instinct tells me to claim you, hyung.” He wore a mask of complete calm, as though the blood housed within his veins wasn’t boiling or itching to finally leave marks across Yoongi’s smooth, pale skin. “It says to fuck you and breed you like you’re one of my own, but I don’t want to chance hurting you.” “But that’s what I want,” Yoongi said, bringing his other hand to Hoseok’s wrist, guiding the hybrid’s fingers down to the slender line of his throat. “Humans aren’t fragile, Hoseok – most especially, me. I want it to hurt, need it to hurt. I wanna be able to feel you – for days, weeks. I want it to last.” In the next moment, Yoongi had willingly dug his own grave, hammered each nail into his coffin, using the same breathy tone as the night before, saying the lovely filthy line to rile the hybrid up, “Please, Hoseok-ah, fuck me.” The redhead could feel Yoongi’s pulse within his hand, the way his breathing hitched when he’d applied more pressure. His fox ear twitched, picking up on guards changing shifts just outside the library doors. The situation wasn’t ideal and despite Hoseok’s better judgment, he’d found himself leaning down to taste Yoongi’s lips, groaning into him the moment they’d made contact, confirming his belief that no – he wouldn’t be able to stop. Yoongi was deliciously receptive to him, mouth eagerly parting around Hoseok’s tongue. And honestly, it shouldn’t have felt this fucking good. The fox could almost concede that each kiss and every touch was like fire, slowly burning him through, searing him in ways that would surely leave a scar. He could feel Yoongi’s length with every slight rock of his hips, seeking friction against Hoseok solid frame. This really wasn’t the right place to be stripping Yoongi down, yet Hoseok found himself twisting the button free on the elder’s dark slacks. The zipper fell on its own when he’d dug his fingers beneath the waistband of Yoongi’s briefs. It really wasn’t the right place at all. And it was difficult for Hoseok to use his heightened senses, while he was being thoroughly distracted by his human. The hybrid sucked in a sharp breath, as a pleasurable chill ran down his spine, feeling the soft pads of Yoongi’s thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of each fox ear. He rebutted by wrapping his long fingers around the blonde’s leaking cock, tugging at Yoongi’s mouth with his sharp teeth, receiving a broken whimper in response. It was apparent that the human enjoyed the sting of pain and Hoseok was more than willing to give it, as he stroked Yoongi dry within his palm – leaning down to leave bruises against the elder’s skin. The firm, strong swirls over Yoongi’s pulse had him moaning aloud, too loudly – Hoseok determined, as he withdrew long enough to remove the sweater from Yoongi’s body. He wore a simple thin, black t-shirt beneath it. The dark shade complimented how pale he was, delicate veins standing out against skin so translucent. Hoseok enjoyed the way he flushed so easily for him, panting heavily in the quiet of the library, already so affected. He slowly released Yoongi from his grasp, trailing his fingers teasingly across his cock to grab the hem of his shirt and connected it at the collar, pulling them tightly together. Hoseok’s eyes gleamed mischievously, when he touched the fabric to Yoongi’s mouth. The blonde raised a brow in question, but allowed Hoseok to ease the material past his lips, and found that it only aroused him further – he fisted at the front of Hoseok’s uniform, bringing him as close as possible. “You look so pretty like this, hyung, but you sound even prettier,” Hoseok said, roaming his hands down the front of Yoongi’s bare chest, repeatedly skimming his thumbs over the erect, pink buds there. “But the castle is guarded by hybrids. We all have sensitive hearing. Truthfully, even with the gag, they’ll still be able to hear you. They’ll hear me, too…” He leaned in, taking Yoongi’s sensitive skin into the heat of his mouth, trapping a nipple between his teeth. The reaction was instantaneous, a jerk of Yoongi’s small hips, a muffled cry into the rough fabric of his shirt. Hoseok resumed in his torture, pressing a slow trail of wet kisses lower, “…sucking on your cute human dick, until you come.” The fuck… Yoongi groaned at the hot mixture of the hybrid’s actions and words, flushing deeply, wondering what the hell made Hoseok’s dick so fucking special. He wanted to know, but he was currently more invested in the direction of Hoseok’s hungry mouth. No – he wanted to fuck up into the fox’s mouth, wanted to feel Hoseok choke on his ‘cute human dick’. He wanted to smear his cum right across the hybrid’s stupid, grinning face after he was finished with using him. Instead, he slipped his hands away from Hoseok to grab at the edge of the table, knuckles turning bone white when he’d felt the first flick of the fox’s tongue over his heated skin. Hoseok’s movements were fast, when his hands were suddenly placed on top of Yoongi’s, pinning the elder there, while he darted the point of his tongue against the slit of his swollen cock, quick to taste the pearly precum that threatened to drip down. The hybrid was practiced, as he swallowed Yoongi’s length down in one go, humming appreciatively around him, “Mmm…” The deep sound reverberated, causing the blonde to shudder with chills. Hoseok enjoyed the familiar stretch of his mouth, breathing in and out through his nose to take his human even further to the back of his throat, before starting up a rhythm, determined to get the elder off as fast as he could, since he’d been tasked to fetch Yoongi, not to completely #wreck him. If Yoongi had been able to form a complete sentence, he’d tell Hoseok to slow the fuck down, but the more selfish part of him was all too pleased with the steady pace, the continuous lave of Hoseok’s hot tongue, how he’d paid extra attention to the head of Yoongi’s cock, swirling, and slurping lewdly. From beneath his dark lashes, Hoseok watched the elder get lost in a state of blissful enrapt, pulling off just to show Yoongi the sticky webs of saliva and precum hanging from between his cock and the fox’s swollen mouth. The redhead smirked at him, “I can’t wait to eat you up.” The way Hoseok said it, fuck – if this wasn’t eating Yoongi whole, then, what else would it be? Oh. The blonde felt a tremor rip throughout his body, the muscles in abdomen clenching. Oh. Once the fox was certain that the image had been painted all nice and vivid in the human’s mind, of Hoseok fucking him open with his sharp tongue, he wrapped his slender fingers around Yoongi’s length, and brought him back inside the warm suction of his mouth. Yoongi leaned his head back, having no other choice but to feel as his orgasm climbed way too fast. It was purposeful on the hybrid’s part and out of his control. This was what Hoseok wanted, sloppy and quick – no grace to be salvaged, when Yoongi’s eyes squeezed shut for all but a moment, reaching for the hybrid’s crimped fire red hair, more in warning than anything – Hoseok pinned his hands back down to the table, holding him. Fuck. Yoongi felt as the familiar rush swarmed him, crying out when he released into Hoseok’s mouth. Hoseok continued stroking him through each wave of pleasure, milking Yoongi of every last drop he had to offer onto his tongue. And humans, they were different. They smelled different, tasted different. Yoongi was like vanilla and spiced cinnamon, but with a human bitterness that he’d come to know and crave. He flicked his tongue across the head of Yoongi’s spent cock, before flashing him a grin. Yoongi was delicious and well worth the wait. Jimin had told the hybrid that it would be his year, his month – his forever. Hoseok was a very patient fox, but he was also voracious, and known for having an appetite. The hybrid could only hope that his cat-like human would be able to keep up with it.  He helped Yoongi back inside his boxers, buttoning, and zipping up his slacks. Then he gently and slowly, unraveled the bunched up shirt from his mouth, dark eyes staring down at the elder’s too pink lips. “The Queen sent me to come get you.” Hoseok’s dick was pulsing beneath his jeans, having yet to be relieved, aching as he watched Yoongi’s pretty mouth naturally pout at him. “We have to go now, hyung.” Yoongi wasn’t entirely convinced that Hoseok had meant the last part. With a voice like gravel, the human returned to his typically shrewd behavior, “We don’t have to go anywhere. I don’t have to do anything, especially since we just – I finally get to have you. I’d take a small nap first if I wasn’t so certain that I needed more from you right now.” “And I’m going to let you have it,” Hoseok promised, as he grabbed at the side of Yoongi’s face with enough force to pull him from off the table right to his mouth. Any kiss was dangerous at this point, steadily testing the fox’s resolve, but Hoseok wanted what Yoongi needed – he practically yearned for it. The hybrid would do anything, anything to help ease the ache, but orders come first. “You’re also mine, hyung, and I’m going to make sure that you won’t forget that fact,” he murmured, drawing lazy circles over one of the many growing bruises along the side of Yoongi’s neck with his thumb. “You might want to quickly change into something high collared...” Even if hybrids wouldn’t be able to see the marks that Hoseok left, they’d be able to smell the fox’s claim. Yoongi had done enough reading to know.

 Jeongguk started attending dinner, but anyone in the room could tell that his attentions were solely fixated on her, making eating difficult, even long after his presence had become ritual. It was as though he were the one starving, despite having consumed a full three course meal without stopping to so much as take a breath. She wondered how often hybrids needed to scent their mates, if it was part of his apparent duress, met with the twitch and flicker of his fingers, or a long, bent rabbit ear. Perhaps Jeongguk would be the one to beg her in the end? It was still relatively early in the evening, when Jimin escorted the girl to Mimzy’s workroom. He’d been tasked with helping her find her way around the castle, watching as silks, and frills were being fitted to her body. Not that he minded all that much, since he was in good company. They’d agreed that the Queen’s fishtail idea was to be scrapped, indefinitely. The royal seamstress was all too pleased upon hearing the declaration. “The only time I design fishtail gowns is for nautical weddings. Not saying that you wouldn’t look beautiful, because you would,” Mimzy said, as she focused on pinning a piece fabric into place. “But you’re not a fish’s bride. Don’t get me wrong, they’re totally cute, but you’re a rabbit’s bride. The two styles are much, much different, that I can assure you.” Whatever the hell that obvious statement was meant for. Jimin looked over the final sketches of her gown, closing his eyes to recall the wedding day in his mind, confirming that this would be the one. Sometimes the power of his gift still amazed him. However, not all of fae’s visions were of the good kind, especially when he was unable to prevent catastrophes from happening. Meddling too much with fate could one day strip him of his sight. There’d been plenty of times where he’d been tempted to risk it. Like last winter, where he’d been forced to act oblivious, knowing that Taehyung was but moments away from fracturing his wrist. The wolf’s supernatural healing ability or not, it still sucked. ‘Fuck – did you know?’ Taehyung hissed out, his inner wolf dripping from his voice, as he cradled his injured wrist to his chest, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain. He snapped, angrily, ‘Jimin! I said did you know that this was going to happen?’ The fairy gave a slow nod, somewhat pitifully, the glow of his skin dimming. ‘I-I wanted to stop it, but I…’ ‘It must’ve been hard for you,’ Taehyung gasped, trying to calm his breathing when Seokjin finally administered him a painkiller, the effects almost immediate. He’d waited until the doctor was gone to look over at Jimin, voice thick with relief, and tension. Taehyung’s eyes were wet, tears falling from his bottom lashes, ‘You can’t ever interfere, you know that, right? Don’t ever sacrifice your sight for me.’ Jimin knew the day would come where he’d be faced with that decision, trapped in a moment where freeing himself would mean disregarding Taehyung’s plea, in order to do what felt right. Unless the King’s admiral decided to retire the wolf hybrid, but that was highly unlikely. Taehyung was a crucial part of the kingdom’s defense unit.   “All set,” Mimzy said, as she started helping the girl out of her many layers, comically hefting the heavy garments over towards the sewing mannequin. “I’ll be sure to have it finished by next week. That way, it’ll be too late for the Queen to object to the changes.” The fairy agreed, “That’s a wonderful idea.” He then placed down the sketches to assist the princess with her complicated attire. There were too many buttons, laces, and zippers for her to figure out. He could tell that she still wasn’t used to the clothing yet. The girl hadn’t bothered to startle, comfortable with Jimin at this point. He asked her, “Will you be alright from here? I have to go make sure Taehyung remembered to eat something.” “I’m sure that I can find my way around,” she said, before bowing her goodbyes to Mimzy, and parting ways. There were a number of times she’d been left to her own devices – most of that time had been spent alone in her room, staring out the balcony at the Meadows. She yearned to see the rest of the city, to walk among the crowds, and put her newly acquired golden card to good use, aka eating everything in sight. She enjoyed traipsing past the art leading into the Queen’s quarters, imagining seven year old Taehyung focusing intently with a paintbrush, squinting at his work. He was currently slaving over a piece to present to her at the wedding and the thought alone was enough to make her feel full with overwhelming happiness. She’d never received a handmade gift, not even from her own mother. Not on purpose, but rather she’d never learned how to paint or knit. Instead, what her mother had given to her consisted of love and knowledge.   On the opposite end of the castle, away from what she’d been used to, were the King’s quarters. The Prince’s chambers were probably at the far end. She’d never so much as glimpsed in the general direction. Was she even allowed to go there? The décor changed the further she explored, purple turning into a deep red. The art on the wall was decidedly unimpressive in comparison to Taehyung’s, not that her biased opinion mattered on the topic. She’d come across her first set of guards, testing her boundaries. Neither hybrid so much as flinched when she passed them, thus green lighting the rest of her steps. It wasn’t until the cat hybrid appeared, Namjoon, Seokjin’s genius husband, stepped out into the hallway that she’d been stopped in her tracks. “Princess,” he greeted, as he closed the door behind him. He’d kept his hand on the knob and was slow to release it, puzzled by her sudden appearance. “It’s unusual seeing you here. Are you lost?” “No, Admiral,” she declined with a shake of her head, looking away. Namjoon was intimidating, dimples, or not. “I was wondering if Prince Jeongguk was in his chambers?” “He’s not, however if you’d like to wait for him, that would be fine as well.” He extended his arm out, pointing down the corridor. “His room is at the very end of the hall, the white door.” She nodded, meekly, “Very good. Thank you...” “You should inform us next time, so that we are able to make adequate arrangements on your behest. A formal visit would ensure that the prince be wherever you’re looking.” And with that, the hybrid was sauntering off, whistling a jaunty tune. What the fuck? Well, she hadn’t known that she could request such a thing. Honestly, she didn’t even think she’d be able to enter Jeongguk’s room without his permission, but you learn something new every day at the palace. She proceeded down the hallway, the white door standing out against rows of black. She stepped inside like it was the most natural thing to do, unprepared for the strong waft of floral that struck her senses. The room was covered in Bell’snaps, which was a delicate mix between snapdragons and roses, known for its unique bulbs. They were more commonly referred to as the Heaven and Hell flower, since they tended to grow along the border separating the two kingdoms. She’d learned a great deal about them, not because her parents were florists, but because she’d been presented with them year after year on her birthday without fail, since she was fifteen. Perhaps it would be premature to assume, but her heart had already confirmed it for her, that Jeongguk had been the one sending them to her, knowing who she was, that she was to be his someday, frustrated that he was unable to reveal himself. The hybrid still found a way. She gently touched a finger to one of the white petals. Of course he found a way. The rest of Jeongguk’s room was dark, almost in spite of the white glow of the Bell’snaps. The walls were painted the color of onyx, the furniture reminding her of storm clouds, or the surface of the moon – dark and bright all at once. His belongings sat atop of mirrors, cologne bottles, and silver jewelry scattered across them haphazardly. Hanging above his dresser was a selection of silk chokers, a look that he clearly took seriously. It was rude to touch without asking, but she found herself reaching for one of them. It was light pink, a color that seemed too soft for Jeongguk. She brought it around her neck and secured the ends. The cologne from Star’s End had come in an expensive bottle, not that it needed such a flashy appearance to sell its quality. The brand usually spoke for itself. Testing the fragrance out on her wrist, she’d decided that it smelled better when it was mixed with Jeongguk’s chemistry – a scent that was practically made to only be worn by him. There was framed art hanging up on the wall, one of which resembled that of Taehyung’s work. It was a depiction of what she’d imagined the Fae Realm to look like. She then wondered if Jimin had taken his wolf there, if he’d allowed Taehyung to see the fairy nests hidden within the forest – if he’d returned to the palace covered in glitter and paint. She attempted to sit on top of Jeongguk’s bed, the frills of her gown rejecting the movement. It was too high up, proving that the climb would be a task, which was simply ridiculous. Growing annoyed, she opened the door to his closet and went in search of something more ideal to wear. There was no shortage of plain button ups, so she grabbed one – a white top that was probably never worn. Beneath her dress, she wore a feeble pair of britches to combat the cold temperatures of autumn, so there was no need to steal a pair of his slacks. She huffed with each pull of her dress, untying the lace of her corset, cursing with every awkward bend of her fingers, as she tried her damndest to tear everything off. She’d have to see about more casual style clothing, something tasteful, yet less. So much less. She glared at the heap of clothing on the floor. Maybe she needed her maids more than she initially thought, as they tended to make fast work of the removal process. Jeongguk’s shirt was massive on her, the bottom of his shirt reaching mid-thigh, like a tunic. The sleeves could almost fold to her elbow. She climbed onto his bed without a problem this time, as she flopped herself onto his soft pillows, and was pleasantly assaulted by another hit of his cologne. This time it smelled more like him, diluted with his natural scent. And that was it, the pinnacle of comfort, as good as it was going to get for now: a place of belonging. With Bell’snaps at every corner of the room, the long mystery was finally over, curiosities settled. Yoongi would be happy to hear it, no longer burdened to play the role of Sherlock. She closed her eyes and pulled at the hybrid’s bed sheets, slipping beneath them, and tucking herself further into the pillows. How long had Jeongguk waited? When did he find out her name or her birthday? Why would someone as beautiful as Jeongguk even…? Why would he ever… …love someone so small…? The bed dipped beneath her – a firm tug of the sheets, soft warmth enclosing her within its arms, lights puffs of air hitting her skin. The familiar spice of Jeongguk’s cologne was stronger then, easing her into what was sure to be oblivion, but even while in her cozy, sleep induced mind, she knew that she wasn’t alone anymore. As though to solidify her belief, insistent hands were pulling her closer still. Jeon Jeongguk, a rabbit princeling with control issues. She curled herself against the wall of his chest, the movement instinctual, as their arms and legs tangled for much needed contact. “Princess,” he sighed, the lilt of his tone somewhat airy, and gentle. She swallowed hard against the feel of his fingertips teasing beneath the silk that was covering her throat. It was his choker to be exact. “It isn’t that I’m not pleased to find you in my chambers, asleep in my bed, in my clothes, but why are you here?” With sleep still muddling her thoughts, the conversation had come easily. “I was waiting for you.” “Well, that much is obvious. I have been waiting, as well.” Here it comes, the resume button being pressed from their last close encounter. Apparently, the hybrid wasn’t willing to let it go. She knew it and yet she’d expected more from him, to forget about his childish demands to enjoy the moment. He was still playing with the silk, pulling at it until it grew tight against her skin. “Do you have words for me?” “The magic words?” she asked, stalling. ‘Beg for your prince’. She’d never begged for anything. It wasn’t in her nature to do so, ask any of the Min’s. “Why must I?” “So that I know that I’m not the only one behaving so desperately. Marrying you won’t be enough to satisfy what has felt like a lifetime of my wanting you.” He pulled back far enough to look at her, dark eyes unintentionally cold. “It’s selfish of me, I know this all too well, but I need you begging for me.” She laughed, incredulously, “I’m the one who is desperate here. You reduce me down to ash beneath the burn of your gaze, as though you mean to consume me. Your presence is so great that it drowns out my own and yet–” The hybrid cut her off. “Then beg.” She bit at the side of her lip, holding back from cursing him. Submitting to him would call for setting aside her dignity. In the prince’s mind, he’d already given himself over to her forever ago, suspended in a state of longing, that she would never truly be able to understand. He wanted the same courtesy, and although it made sense on some messed up level, it was still difficult. “I’ve been curious since the first mention of there being a hybrid prince. I followed the papers, clinging to every written word, fantasizing. I even crossed kingdoms just to see you.” She had no idea as to why she was divulging all of these intimate details again. The night of the Meadow Ball, he’d known how deep her devotion for him had run. “The white Bell’snaps was your doing, wasn’t it? You gifted a flower that represented our two kingdoms, before I even knew of your existence. If anything, I’d been the one to suffer in ignorance.” He shoved his tongue against the inside of his cheek, growing impatient, “Just the same, princess.” “Please,” she whispered, the words barely audible. By the way the hybrid’s ears twitched, it was clear that he’d heard it. And yet, “What was that?” She closed her eyes, trying again, but this time louder. “Please, Jeongguk. I’m…” “You’re begging,” He informed her, gently, “…and you do it so well for me.” It would have been soothing, if not for the current situation. It was not at all a real appraisal, but condescension in its purest form. Jeongguk had the nerve to smile at her, as he demanded, “Again.” Was he joking? “You’re pushing it.” “Oh, am I?” There was sarcasm laced heavily within his tone, as he slipped his fingers into her hair, carefully pulling at the pins holding each strand into place. “I don’t really think so.” She was almost ashamed at how easy it was the second time around. “Please.” The last bobby pin was tossed to the floor. With her hair down, he combed his long fingers through it freely, comfortingly, before he closed his grip – the action abrupt, as he brought her face inches away from his own. The sharp gasp that escaped was enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine, quite enjoying the way she sounded, eager to hear more. The hybrid stared at her lips, before he’d pressed their mouths together firmly. It was pressure on pressure at first, wanting to feel her and needing to be felt. She said it one last time between aggressive pulls of his lips, “Please.” Uncertain of how much begging would be sufficient enough to satisfy the prince, hoping that it was enough to reflect her own desperation. She roamed her hands along his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath her fingertips when she’d held on. Instinct told her to reach for his ears, intentions becoming apparent when she skimmed the nape of his neck, into his soft dark hair. It the hybrid pause, body as still as stone. He was suddenly staring down at her, eyes narrowed into slits, both dark and accusatory. If looks could kill, she’d already be dead. The white fur slipped from her hand, intrigued by how a single touch could so easily unravel him. “Your ears are just so soft,” she said, as though it would somehow justify her impulse to grab at them. The word ‘soft’ seemed to have struck a nerve, when the hybrid took hold of her wrists, and pinned them to the mattress. It was much like how their first encounter had originally went, with Jeongguk’s hips falling between her thighs with little effort. It felt like an eternity, until he spoke again. “Keep your arms down.” She nodded, wrists staying where he’d placed them, when he started to unbutton the shirt she’d borrowed from his closet, exposing new inches of skin. Wearing a bra wasn’t necessary with her gowns, an observation the hybrid had made as he worked further down. He allowed the shirt to remain shut, affording her brief moments of modesty. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I couldn’t wait to have you like this, all to myself…” How to articulate that she wanted him more than that? The bedside lamp cast a dim light over them, but it was enough to make out the hard lines of Jeongguk’s chest when he removed his shirt from off of his broad shoulders. The hybrid’s physique was a result of his time on the battlefield, a trained soldier within the Admiral’s squadron. Delicately sculpted muscles, miles of golden skin – Jeongguk was a whole meal that’d left her salivating, and starved for a taste, until she remembered herself. Touching him would mean breaking his command. He stared back, shamelessly, taking in the way she was openly admiring his body. “I was always worried that you’d find someone else. A nice, human boy,” Jeongguk confessed, a bitter smirk reaching the curve of his glossed lips. “There were tells about you, though, obvious tells of your inexperience, and that you’re untouched. You have no one to compare me to, princess.” “How fortunate for you, then, should you perform inadequately,” she teased back, her breath hitching in her throat when his eyes flashed darkly. He’d felt challenged by her. She continued to press him, enticed by the thrill of it, “You must be brimming with confidence…” Jeongguk grew quiet then, as he idly traced his fingers beneath the silk choker she was wearing, before tearing it from her neck – breaking the clasp in the process. It’d been weeks since he’d last scented her. Weeks that she’d paraded around the royal court, mingling with other hybrids, being ushered from room to room by his fae, who was usually in the presence of Taehyung. Even if she’d currently smelled like his cologne, it was not of him – not truly. Mating her would be the simplest long term way of making sure that he remained on her skin. Jeongguk wanted every hybrid within the kingdom to be aware of the fact that she���d been properly marked and not to be sought after, if anyone so bold existed.   He parted the shirt covering her breasts, drinking in all of her insecurities with one greedy look – the newly exposed inches of skin calling to be claimed, for Jeongguk to take what had always belonged to him. The hybrid pressed his palms into the mattress, hovering over her, “Your heart is racing. I can hear it…” He lowered his mouth to where her pulse was fluttering against the side of her neck, swirling his tongue over the same spot with slow repetition. It was when she’d felt the sharp pinch of his teeth, that she’d arched her hips up into his own, and could feel how hard he already was for her. Their chests met once he’d settled his full weight atop of her, allowing her to feel more of him each time rocked forward, seeking friction. She’d learned that the prince was all about slow, thorough consumption – languid strokes of his tongue and rough, seemingly practiced touches. He knew just how to hold her, splaying his fingers across the opposite side of her neck, keeping her skin to his teeth. “Jeongguk, please…” This time she’d truly meant it, able to feel an acute ache in the deepest pit of her stomach. The slick of her arousal was wet against her inner thighs, already such a mess. “I want to touch you, too.” It would only be fair, not that fairness seemed to be of high importance to the prince. He trailed the back of his unoccupied hand down the underside of her arm, teasing past the curve of her breast. “Touch me, then,” was the husky response, voice breathy and thick against her throat, before he resumed his torture, drawing his thumb back and forth over her peaked flesh – making her tremble beneath him. “Before I change my mind, princess…” She uncurled her fingers at the warning, bringing a hand to the nape of his neck, as the other clung to his back. The rabbit ears were off limits for now, as she decided to tread carefully in mapping him out. She sucked in a breath when he slid his large hand to the slope of her stomach, the hybrid’s cool fingers slipping beneath her tights. The hold she had on his back moved to the arm that was currently at work, gasping when she’d felt three of his fingers cupping her through the silk of her panties. It was impossible for her to not want to hide, so very aware of how wet she was, but not wanting him to stop.    As though able to read her thoughts, he laughed humorlessly, “You’re completely drenched for me, princess.” Oh, well, fuck – he was out to kill her. The hybrid felt along the tender flesh of her inner thighs, fingers coated with her slick. There was a lack of genuine remorse to his tone, as he continued, “You’re practically dripping all over me, begging me to stuff you full with my cock. Should I?” Jeongguk stared back with eyes as black as charcoal, the smirk touching his lips downright predatory. She wondered if he’d truly expected an answer, her skin burning the longer he searched her face for, every bit of the pleasantness wiped from his expression, and replaced with something hungry. Why the hell was she allowing him to get away with it? “Your highness…” He was quick to silence her with the firm press of his mouth, tongue parting her lips with ease. She hummed at the distraction, melting into the kiss. The hybrid moaned into her, pleased with how she fit inside his palm – his middle and index fingers bent, as he rubbed her through the silk material, easily slipping between the folds of her soaked flesh, and over her clit. It had become obvious to her that Jeongguk controlled every aspect of their coupling, like a wave that kept crashing down on her in a show of dominance, leaving her fighting for air, until the last moment when he allowed her to fill her lungs. He took slow, languid drags of her mouth, distracted by the slick warmth between his fingers. The mess had grown when he’d removed the remaining garment – webs of clear, sticky arousal hanging from between the material of her panties and her skin. He watched her through heavy lids, dark eyes having narrowed when he brought his middle finger to the center of his tongue, and made a show of licking it clean. Oh… The situation was foreign to her, intimidating – so much more than she could ever imagine, and yet she’d wanted more of it. The hand she’d placed on his arm steadily pulled him forward, encouraging him to continue. She whispered, unable to find her voice, “Please, Jeongguk. I need…” Please, please, please…Listening to herself beg was unbearable, even if it had come naturally by this point.  “You’re such a good girl for me,” he cooed, lowering his mouth back to hers, their lips parting into shaky gasps, when he curved a long finger into her. She whimpered softly at the warm pressure filling her with every thrust. His tone was almost accusatory, “You’re so perfect and all mine. All. Mine.” He pushed in slow, shallow at first, allowing her time to adjust to it, before adding a second finger. The prince continued to taunt, enjoying the way her skin flushed red, “Will you be able to handle me, princess? You might be too small for my cock.” Her walls clung onto him tightly, as though to keep him in, welcoming the stretch of each intrusion, the strokes of his long, delicate fingers exactly where she needed it. “Listen…” The loud, wet sounds of his fingers moving inside her warmth made her want to die. “So, you’re into humiliation,” she breathed, shuddering when he teased his mouth over her breasts, meticulous in his onslaught of rabbit teeth and tongue, leaving behind a trail of purple and pink marks. “I am into…” He said, placing a firm kiss just her below her navel, “…the sound your body makes while I’m fucking you with my fingers.” More kisses, this time hot and lingering – from one side of her hips to the other. The hybrid held her eyes, lips twitching, “The desperate little moans and gasps that you make whenever you hold in your breath for too long, too afraid of what I might think, when all I want is more.” She jumped at the soft touch of his ears, velvet making contact with the sensitive skin of her lower stomach, as he brought one of her legs to rest on top of his shoulder – spreading her wide and pulling her closer all in the same process. Long before they’d started, he’d been able to smell her arousal, both heady and thick, clouding his thoughts, but at this proximity, it was damn near intoxicating.   He nuzzled into her thigh, flicking his tongue out to taste her sticky skin with the flat of his tongue, humming contentedly at the sweet bitterness that he practically starved for. The hybrid met her eyes, critical of the way she suffered through her bouts desperation without verbalizing it, when she’d gasped another plea, her body trembling – hips arching to get closer to the awaiting warmth of his mouth. Fuck this. Her fingers reached for the ears that were tickling her skin, tugging on them gently, and felt as his breath stuttered upon her skin. The shiver that tore through the hybrid was satisfying for her to watch, pleased that he’d yet to pull back to reprimand her. Instead, he withdrew his fingers very slowly, dark eyes fixed on the way her walls clenched tightly around nothing, slick glistening against raw skin – Jeongguk’s hunger persisted, almost stealing the rest of his patience.  He wasted no time in opening her with his thumbs, exposing her nice and wide for him, before lashing his tongue out over her clit, growling low and appreciatively – the sound reverberating against her, and gaining her chills. It was becoming too much, too soon, even for him, as he pressed his hips firmly to the mattress in an attempt to relieve himself, however slight. The touch of her fingers on his ears left him aware of the fact that she wanted to affect him just as badly, to have even a modicum of control over the situation – his precious little human. She’d have nothing, but this, this, this. He licked a long stripe from her entrance to the swollen hood of her clit, the hand holding her leg in place tightening when she’d jolted. All it took was the next reaction, a choked sob that sounded so raw and lovely to his sensitive ears, and Jeongguk was gone. The hybrid devoured her like she was a meal, trapping her within the tight suction of his mouth, as he darted his tongue over her in a myriad of quick, unmerciful motions. The higher she climbed, the more he wanted her to fall – as he grabbed at her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and firmly guided her against his mouth. “A-Ah, Jeongguk…” She cried out, tugging at the white fur of his ears like it was a lifeline. “I’m c-close, I’m so close…I’m…” He licked at his swollen lips when he’d pulled off, “You’re going to come for me.” The hybrid was so confident with her end, rubbing fast circles into her clit with his nose pressed into her, delving his tongue past her entrance in deep, controlled thrusts. She felt her orgasm drawing closer, until the heat unfurled at her center. He drank her in the moment she let go, sucking greedily, as he pinned her hips back down to the mattress. “Oh, my fuck…” she gasped, limbs weightless, and mind freed. The high of her release was familiar, but more intense, both mentally and physically this time. She covered her face with a hand, laughing breathlessly, “That was amazing.” She was still playing with one of his ears, soft velvet brushing between her fingers. “Tell me how to please you. I’ll do anything.” “I know you will,” he said, while he once again settled between her legs. The material of his slacks felt rough against her sensitive skin, letting her feel the hard outline of his cock with each slow grind of his hips. “Now let me show you.” Jeongguk brought her hand against his abdomen, inching her fingers down lower beneath his own, where his skin hot, and toned.    He bit at his plush bottom lip, letting go of her hand when she reached the button of his pants. She pulled it free and trailed the zipper down. The serious look of concentration on her face was endearing to him. The hybrid chuckled, “You get to expose me now, princess. Are you secretly enjoying it?” She smiled, nervously, unable to meet the weight of his stare, “I would enjoy making you feel good, too.” “An easy task for my sweet human...” The first touch of her fingers against the heated skin of cock was enough to leave him winded – throbbing and leaking within her small hand when she’d pulled from his briefs. He leaned onto the mattress, rocking forward into her closed fist, enjoying the view between their bodies. It was when she’d begun moving her wrist in tandem with him, strokes wet, and tight, he’d hissed between clenched teeth, “Yes, princess. Just like that…” She used the hand on his hybrid ear to pull him into a kiss, before sliding down to the back of his neck. He parted her lips with his tongue, licking into her mouth somewhat lazily, faltering from her touch. It was erotic, how innocent she was and how lecherous he felt, wanting to take it all away. He felt the exploration of her hand ending at the base of his spine, too close – when her fingers skimmed the pure white fluff of his tail, sending ripples of pleasure throughout his body. The kiss broke with his harsh breaths, warning her, “You must stop.” It was disarming, how beautiful the hybrid could look when he was being wrecked. She tested her limits, brushing her fingers through the fur of his tail, before giving it a hard tug at the ends. The guttural sound that followed after was almost worth the risk of continuing, finding their reversal empowering – another adventure, for another time. She’d stopped as he’d instructed, releasing him to instead lower his slacks and briefs down over his ass. It was fact that hybrids tended to mate from behind. That bit of information had been learned unwillingly, when she’d made the mistake of taking interest in whatever her brother was reading at the time, lost in the royal library. However, Jeongguk didn’t appear to be going with ritual at the present. No change in position. The hybrid took hold of his cock and started coating himself with her arousal, using the swollen head of his length to rub up and down against her.   Dark eyes measured her, carefully, “It’s going to hurt at first and you won’t be able to have it back. It’ll be mine…” He pressed himself against her entrance, the fit snug – the pressure slight, but it was enough to make her tense up with anticipation. “The whole kingdom will be able to smell my claim on you after this. They’ll know I’ve properly marked and bedded you. This is what it means to give everything to me.” And with that, he slowly eased the tip into her, pausing the moment he was met with a barrier. The discomfort was evident on her face, her skin flushed with her thighs trembling at his waist. He steadily withdrew, before snapping his hips forward – breaching past the tight resistance, as he buried himself in deeply. It was the only way in his mind, since he knew that inch by inch would have been worse for the both of them. The hybrid was quick to bring his arms up to cradle her, chest aching when he’d felt her fingers curl into his back. They were trapped in a state of perpetual overwhelm.   “You feel so good…” It took every ounce of Jeongguk’s self-restraint not to lose control, to remain still, and behave – fuck if it wasn’t difficult. “So tight and perfect for me, isn’t that right?”   She nudged at him with her nose, needing him, needing more, their lips brushing between shallow breaths. He grabbed at the side of her face, sighing into her, eager to take – slipping his tongue into her mouth in hot, warm strokes. A brave nip of her teeth drew a soft moan at the back of his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed, allowing her to kiss along the prominent curve of his jawline. The burn of being so full one moment, and then empty the next was unpleasant, when he pulled back his hips, stopping until only the head of his cock was still inside her, before he rocked forward – beginning a slow pace at first, allowing them time to adjust. Another small bite was placed at the hollow of his throat, which prompted the hybrid to act on impulse when he pinned her head down to the pillow by her hair. There was no need for words with the way he stared at her then, eyes impossibly black – the muscle in his jaw twitching. No female hybrid would ever dare and perhaps that was why he loved, rather than loathed her species. He slowly loosened his grip on the strands, his point having been made, “Show me how well you touch yourself. I want to see how you’ve done it, time and time again, while thinking of me fucking you just like this…” She winced when the encouragement made her walls clench around him, nearly killing them both. He resisted the urge to start pounding into her, gritting his teeth, “You liked that, huh, baby? Come on.” She reached down between her legs, pressing her pointer and middle finger in circles over her clit – giving a startled gasp when he brought her knees to her chest to get a better view of how she was touching herself, stretched so tight around his thick length with the mess of their arousal making it easier to drive into her. The hybrid was determined to hold off for her, slowing his hips, so that he focus on leaving marks across her skin. He wanted to devour her whole, taking in the way her nipples stood erect, sensitive against his hot tongue, her eyes brimming with tears when she stared at him. It only made him want to ruin her more. The moment he could, was the moment when pain turned into pleasure – her walls gripping around him like a pulse. Spurred on by the her small cries, the hybrid gave her more, the sensual grind of his hips turning into hard, quick thrusts – hard and deep enough to feel it within her bones, the slick sounds of their sweat covered skin meeting loud in the quiet room. The muscles in his abdomen tensed, when he moaned out, “You’re going to make me come.” He was noisier than she was, sighing and gasping at a higher frequency as her desperate, needy sounds.  “W-Wait, wait,” she cried, eyes closing tightly when he hit a spot, as though touching at her very core, exactly where she needed it, and how she needed it – leaving her breathless, lungs on fire from the suffocating tension. She threw an arm over her mouth to keep herself from screaming, trembling. “Let me turn over…” The suggestion was enough to have him slow to a stop, edging them both when he withdrew. She’d felt so very empty again, left red and raw and clenching around nothing. It was on shaky limbs that she moved onto her stomach, feeling a large hand slide down the length of her spine. He paused between her shoulder blades on his way back up, pushing her chest down to the mattress. Her hips remained poised, ass in the air with her thighs pressed tightly together. “You spoil me, princess,” the hybrid murmured, voice reverent almost when he took in the sight of her. “I thought hybrid ways would be too impersonal for our first time, especially when considering the sensitivity of humans. Overtime perhaps, but look at you behaving so well for your prince. It’s like you already know your place…” He moved his hand between her legs, two fingers trapping her clit, as he pushed his thumb into her. She whimpered, grabbing at the bedding, and holding it tightly. He smirked, dark and meaningful, “Your body is positively sinful.” He slowly withdrew his fingers, when he eased his cock back into her, watching the way she swallowed him up so greedily – the new angle allowing him to go deeper – deep enough to bottom out each time he slammed into her, hybrid instinct taking over him. It was her act of submission that had finally made him snap, dominant by nature. He grabbed hold of her hips where bruises had started to form, sending her forward with each powerful thrust. A whimper had the hybrid leaning far into her, the wall of his chest against her back to press apologetic kisses along her shoulders – skimming his fingers low across her stomach, down between her thighs, as he started rubbing her in time with his thrusts. Jeongguk was shameless, whispering filthy promises into her skin, moaning out her name – something that was now far more intimate than the usual, ‘princess’. The cool air reached the back of her neck when he scooped her hair up into a fist, drawing her head back, so that he could speak into the sensitive shell of her ear, “I want to feel as you come around my cock.” Thick tears were clinging to her bottom lashes, the pleasure overwhelming, as he continued striking over her chord, bringing her dangerously close to the edge. “Are you going to cry for me? I told you to give me everything.” She spiraled so fast – coming in spasms of heat and bliss, the tears flowing freely. The feeling was emotionally and physically intense, making her feel whole, sated and high, with her heartbeat racing. The hybrid continued pounding into her through her orgasm – teeth sinking into his bottom lip, when he released inside her, spilling so deeply without fear of consequences, knowing that there was no current risk.   He brought a hand to her stomach, keeping her still as he filled her – possessive in the way he marked her thoroughly, inside and out. The hybrid waited for the erratic pace of his heart to slow in rhythm with hers, before pulling away to situate himself beside her. They’d claimed each other’s first time, before the wedding even. He wanted to laugh at the prospect. Although, he would have had her the first night he’d formally met her, if only she’d begged for it. They stared at one another in the dim lighting, the fire waning within the oil lamps, and drawing shadows along the walls. The silence was one of contentment, where actions held more meaning, than spoken words. Damp skin, rising and falling chests. Jeongguk leaned over, capturing a tear in its path down her cheek with his mouth. The kiss was lingering, when he slipped his fingers into her hair, and pulled her so that she was settled on top of him. This high up with her wet and slick skin touching his lower stomach, she felt utterly embarrassed, and dirty.  “The white Bell’snaps,” she said, returning to the topic in hopes of distracting herself from feeling so vulnerable. He hadn't clarified earlier, even if it was obvious. She wanted his explanation. “Why?" “I really couldn’t leave you be, even while I was advised that I could risk losing you.” Jeongguk shook his head, as though finding it just as absurd now, as he did back then. “I associated the Bell’snaps with you, because it symbolized our two kingdoms, and our union. They brought me great comfort, especially during times where I’d felt frustrated, willing to cross the line, and disrupt fate just for a glimpse of you. I used to command Jimin to give me descriptions, while Taehyung attempted to put them down on canvas.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered somewhat guiltily, unable to imagine how lonely that must’ve have been. He brushed his fingers over a mark on her thigh, voice wistful, “You’re here now, princess…” Jeongguk paused to stare up at her then, time caught between them. Dark lashes against equally dark eyes, lips too pink, drawing her attention. “…and you’re all mine, finally.”  She wanted to challenge him and be defiant just for the sake of seeing him get riled up, but there was no truer statement. Instead, she placed the flat of her palms against his chest and teased, “If we are to speak as though people are possessions, then you’re the prettiest trinket that I own, your highness.” “That fucking mouth,” he murmured, before forcibly pulling her down for a slow kiss, unhurried, and thorough – a kiss that was filled with heat, stirring, as they took turns sucking, and nipping at each other’s lips. “…drives me mad.” The hybrid’s breathing was harsh between each word, when he lifted her hips, so that he could push into her warmth, still slick with their mingled cum, easily sheathing his entire length inside of her. If this was the consequence of speaking smartly to the prince, then Luna help them both, because she won’t be able to keep her mouth shut.

On the day of the wedding, the streets of Meadow were lined with human and hybrid kind. Even though the girl hardly had any chances to meet with the kingdom, they’d embraced her all the same, celebrating, and leaving their gifts at the gates. The ceremony itself would be smaller and held within the heart of the castle. Garland made up of Bell’snaps decorated each room, even the hallways. It was the flower that spoke for itself. A bouquet was tied neatly with gold string, awaiting its bride. Yoongi was acting calmly, despite the circumstances. He’d always been protective over his sister, but the situation hadn’t caused him any alarm. From what he could tell, Jeongguk was woefully enslaved, even while the rabbit hybrid tried demonstrating otherwise, he’d always failed. The few, intimate conversations he’d had alone with Jeongguk were tense, for sure, but the boy hadn’t cracked under the pressure, nor had he fought against Yoongi’s shitty attitude, which made the blonde respect him all the more. “What time is the reception?” Yoongi asked, growing impatient. Hoseok was currently on security detail, ensuring the Queen’s safety – being sexy? What the fuck.   Their father was there, playing the role of anxiety personified, and was flustered about it. He took out his handkerchief to timidly clean away at his glasses for the umpteenth time, “Well, son. That usually comes after the wedding ceremony. That eager to dance, are you?” “Oh, yeah,” Yoongi snorted, lacking any real enthusiasm. “That’s totally it.” “I feel ridiculous,” she said, stepping away from the mirror. Her mother’s pearls were pale, which matched perfectly with the dress. It was one of the requests she’d handed over to Mimzy, who’d added more beads to her gown. The makeup was applied lightly to go with her usual natural and soft preference, despite the Queen’s critiques. She had her hair pinned into place, save for a couple choice strands.    Yoongi tilted his head at her, “But you look beautiful. When do we sacrifice you to King Kong?” “Better question, how do we give you away?” her father asked, placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He stepped next to her, “Your mother made a beautiful bride. Seeing you now, you make a beautiful princess.” “Damn it,” she cursed, trying her best not to cry. She fanned at her face, as if it would blow the feels away. She wasn’t, but, “I’m ready.” “Like there was any doubt,” Yoongi said, as he helped lower the netting of her veil. “I need to go be with the groom party. I’ll see you out there.” She nodded, somewhat dazedly, “Yeah.” He quickly reached in to grab her arm, leaning towards her, “Blink twice if you wanna Christian ‘Bale’ on this thing, we’ll make like fucking Batman and Robin, grapple our way out a window…” “I don’t want to bail, ever. What the…out, Yoongi. Get out.” Admittedly, Yoongi felt ready to belong to a bigger family. He knew that his sister was ready for it, as well. His father was a broken man prior to the palace life, without humor – doomed to wilt. The Meadow was a blessing for Yoongi, since it housed a certain fox hybrid. A shiver of excitement made the blonde pause for a moment, realizing that his lethargic behavior had gone away since living in the castle. Now his heart raced whenever he so much as thought about Jung Hoseok. He entered the wedding hall, making his way down the white carpet. The strong scent of Bell’snaps filled the air, and made his nose itch. The prince was at the end of the aisle with Taehyung and Jimin at his side. The wolf hybrid raised an expectant brow. “Well?” Yoongi smirked, “She’s on her way.” Jeongguk folded his gloved hands at the mention, standing tall in his dark royal attire. The hybrid exuded arrogance in Yoongi’s opinion, even if he wasn’t – hair parted with his pure white ears looking especially fluffy, and soft.  Jimin was in what was considered formal garb for the fae kind, where a majority of his back was exposed with his wings on full display. A soft sheen of glitter highlighted his golden skin – not smudged with handprints for once, which was a sign that the wolf was behaving himself, but from the way Taehyung’s fingers were curled down at his sides, Yoongi could tell that it wasn’t without effort. “Would touching me make you feel better?” Yoongi teased, as he fell into formation with his hands folded neatly. Taehyung inclined his head, “Touching you could cost us our lives, human.” He rolled his eyes at that, “You think I’m scared of Ferngully over there?” “No, not at all,” Taehyung mused with a wry smile. “The fox, however…” He turned so that he was now facing the blonde, dark eyes gleaming with interest. “I can smell him all over you, you know. Hybrids can detect when someone is spoken for and you are most definitely off-limits. And receiving, Yoongi? I didn’t peg you as the type.” Jimin leaned over, careful not to touch anything, as he murmured softly, aware of the fact the wolf doesn’t like to be scolded, “You’re embarrassing him, my love, and before you say it, I know you don’t care, but try for today.” Taehyung hated being wrong. The wolf in him practically growled, “Of course.” Yoongi snickered when the hybrid’s tail stopped wagging, “Heel boy.” ‘I’m going to crush you,’ Taehyung thought, as he stared down into the fae’s eyes, where there was no mercy to be had, not that the wolf expected there to be any. No – Jimin’s eyes were sparkling prettily – pretty enough to cause the hybrid physical pain. A pain he’d always answer to with just as much aggression, ‘The moment I get my hands on you, I won’t let go. Not until you feel broken by me. Not until you beg me to stop.’ “Until then,” Jimin said, breathily, skin flushed by the stream of thoughts coming from Taehyung, overcome by the tension building between them. “You’re going to behave and just like Yoongi said, you will heel.” The music started, which caused all the guests to stand up from their seats. The soft melody being played was not the Wedding March, but rather something that had been composed and gifted from the fae realm. Yoongi had to choose whether he wanted to perform or be a groomsman. The moment she stepped onto the carpet, he knew that he’d made the right choice. The double doors parted for her, their father’s arm linked within her own. From beside him, he swore that he could hear Jeongguk’s audible pull for breath. It only solidified Yoongi’s theory, that the hybrid was so clearly spellbound, and taken with her. Jeongguk met them a few stairs down, taking her hand away from her father’s, and pulling her to him in a fashion that was perhaps, not according to tradition. The ceremony itself was straightforward, the same procedure for every royal marriage prior, vows to be repeated with listening – lots of listening. When the time had come for it, he was more than happy to finally unveil her, watching how she’d immediately looked away from him, as a deep blush flooded her cheeks. Despite all that they’ve done, how every single night since their first coupling, they’d been inseparable – unable to sleep without one another or keep their hands to themselves. She had the nerve to act shy and to look so pure, then. As though he’d never had his way with her, countless of times, in so many ways, in so many rooms – it was disarming, leaving the hybrid with every intention of ruining her all over again.   He tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his own. The look she received was severe and full of promise. He made no plans to release her, holding her with beneath his heavy gaze, until the priest told them to kiss. He brought his fingers from her jawline, slowly brushing her lips apart, before he claimed them in a bruising kiss, unwilling to let the current audience sway him. When the prince had finally pulled back, they were left panting.        The royal official was proud to announce them for the first time as, “Prince and Princess of the Meadows.” The room doesn’t explode like it typically does in the movies. There was no rice being thrown or loud, celebratory cheering. A royal wedding was quiet and so, so very still like a picture, save for her side of the family, who looked so out of place, yet eager to express their excitement through facial expression. Yoongi too was smiling so wide, gums and all. Her father was a blubbering mess, snapping away on his camera. A long blog post would await her in the morning. Jeongguk walked her back down the aisle, bringing her out into the hallway where the King’s Admiral was prepared to escort them to the reception hall. “Admiral,” she greeted, less intimidated by Namjoon at this point.   “Princess.” It was now a title that she could not so easily refuse, if ever again. “We’ll receive the gifts first,” Jeongguk informed her, holding her hand around his arm. They were walking at their own leisure, basking in the aftermath of the legalities. “Then there will be toasts, followed by lots of food, and then dancing. We’ll be the first to leave the hall. No one is allowed to go before we do, so we must be mindful of the time.” She nodded, “So, no partying ‘til the break of dawn? How droll.” He smirked down at her, “Your night has already been booked in advance, princess. Oh, how I intend to exhaust you.” “You’ve seen and had it all,” she said, trying not to die right there on the spot from the anticipation. “What more could you possibly want from me?” “If you haven’t noticed by now, I am insatiable.” He lowered his voice, speaking quietly despite the fact that he didn’t need to, “I’ve been thinking. Our children will be the perfect combination of bratty and stubborn. Do ask that Seokjin stops with your injections.” She flushed anew, as the heat steadily consumed her. “That’s a bit too soon, so I think the fuck not, your highness. I’ll take my nope salad with the fat-free dressing on the side.” “A discussion for later, when I have you coming undone beneath me,” the hybrid muttered with an air of nonchalance. Her ladies in waiting made quick work of removing the long extension of her dress, along with the veil, leaving her crown in place. Jeongguk helped her into her seat at the table, given her still too many layers. It was only once they were comfortably situated, that the guests were allowed to pool in. The night had proceeded exactly how Jeongguk said it would, with the presents first: There were bars of gold, precious gems, miles of land, rare silks, and exotic pets, save for the black and brown furred Pomeranian that caught Taehyung’s eye. Jimin covered his mouth, eyes scrunched up when he’d smiled big, “Our little Yeontan is here. This is him.” “Well, there was no way we were getting through this without re-gifting something,” the prince said, noticing her sad expression. He pulled her hand into his lap. “Besides, the dog’s eyebrows were very angry. Were you not satisfied with the snow leopard that we received? Let’s not be greedy.” It took two of the Queen’s guards to haul in Taehyung’s gift, setting the massive painting down on its easel. The frame was covered in a dark cloth, but she could already tell by its size that it would dominate whichever wall it would be hung up on. The wolf tugged at the cover, slowly revealing the art to the couple, eyes intense as he focused on their reaction. Taehyung was about making others happy – he lived for their expressions, to know that he’d been the one to bestow that happiness upon them. The moment he’d chose to capture, the image that he was unable to remove from his mind, was the night of the Ball, where the prince had finally met his princess. She was clumsy, yes, unbearably so, and even though he’d been engaged in conversation with Yoongi, seconds away from having to excuse himself – he saw art, and took a mental picture.   It painting showed when the prince had brought her onto her toes, their faces mere inches from touching. The rabbit hybrid was in his masquerade mask, holding her against his frame. The colors that Taehyung used were bold and exaggerated, but in a way that appeared necessary with each stroke being so precise. It was breathtaking, more than what she’d been expecting, and for a long while she’d sat there with her mouth parted, intending to speak, but nothing would come out. Jeongguk smiled at the room, “For once, the princess is speechless.” He leaned forward with her hand still held captive within his grasp. The prince nodded to the wolf hybrid, his oldest friend, “It’s a beautiful piece, Taehyung. Thank you.” “Yes, thank you,” she beamed, snapping out of her reverie. “I love it.” Seokjin was not one for long, meaningful speeches. He didn’t like to give them, not even while they were in the form of medical lectures, but those days were far behind him. Sitting through wedding toasts was just the same, bothersome, and uninteresting. Watching Namjoon struggle, however, was one of his favorite pastimes. His husband was intelligent, surprisingly good with his words, except for at this very moment, where he had to explain his poetry and metaphors to a table of confused royals. Always overdoing it… When he was finished, Namjoon took a seat next to his husband, slightly defeated. He could feel Seokjin staring at him and if he looked, he knew that there would be a smug expression waiting for him. So, he didn’t. “So smooth, my love,” Seokjin practically cooed at him, but the condescending tone was there, to which Namjoon smiled at him sweetly, dimples on display. “My humiliation is your pleasure, is it not? Just as your enjoyment, is mine.” He extended his hand out when the music filled the room. “We haven’t shared a dance in ages.” “Because you have two left feet,” Seokjin murmured, as he took the admiral’s fingers into his own, and walked with him across the floor. He winked, “It was how I tripped and fell for you in the first place.” “Your jokes,” Namjoon mused, the good mood causing his cat ears to perk. He rested a firm hand against the canine hybrid’s waist, bringing them closer together. “Really get me going.” Hoseok entered the hall during his shift change to find Yoongi sulking at a table next his father, nodding somewhat numbly to whatever was being said to him. It was adorable, because the hybrid knew, he knew where his human’s mind was, utterly lost to the foxes, drowning in loneliness. And it took no time at all, for Hoseok to close the distance, watching the way that Yoongi tensed suddenly, as if he’d realized the hybrid was there without any certain, or direct recognition. Hopeful was a look that appeared so soft upon Yoongi’s otherwise miserable face, lips turning into a deep pout, so small within that moment. That was when Hoseok knew that a fox was in love with a kitten, unable to help himself, and he didn’t particularly want to, either. He’d never felt this way, with his heart in a constant state of duress, all because of this human. “Congratulations to your household,” Hoseok said, bowing in a manner that superseded ‘polite’. The action was so easily elegant and measured. With the fox’s posture, it probably wasn’t even intentional, but natural. It still kind of pissed Yoongi off, how Hoseok tended to handle everything with perfection, and that it always seemed to come so effortlessly. Whatever stupor Yoongi had fallen into prior to Hoseok’s presence vanished almost immediately, as he quietly surveyed the hybrid’s every move. “How kind of you,” he said, icily, before his father could toss around the same words, give or take a few nervous giggles. Yoongi challenged the hybrid, somewhat miffed that he’d been left to himself the entire night, “Is that all you wanted to say, then, guard?” Oh. Hoseok arched an eyebrow at him, narrowing his eyes darkly at the blonde, “No. I have plenty more to say to you. Will you excuse us?” The redhead’s usual cheery smile was in place then, not even bothering to wait for Yoongi to get up from his seat, when he’d started walking away briskly. He knew that his human would follow after him. Once it felt as though the hybrid might snap beneath his anger, Hoseok turned sharply on his heel, coming face to face with Yoongi. The blonde was biting at his lip, anticipating the hybrid’s retaliation. The difference in their height had never seemed so daunting, as it did then. There were couples dancing around them, the two of them paused at the center of the ballroom floor. Covering, Hoseok took the human by his hands, and pulled him in. “I don’t dance,” Yoongi said, stiffly. Hoseok chuckled humorlessly at that, “Well, I’m usually not talked down to, but we all have our firsts, don’t we?” He pressed a hand to Yoongi’s back, a small whimper escaping. This was what he’d wanted, this meager bit of contact. The hybrid leaned in so that he could speak against Yoongi’s ear, “You’re trembling, baby. It’s almost as if you ran your mouth without thinking that there would be consequences.” The elder swallowed thickly, as the tension practically seeped through his skin, “And what are the consequences?” Despite not being able to dance, Hoseok knew exactly how to guide him. Each firm touch was another burn against his skin. “Of pissing me off? Oh,” Hoseok said, while purposefully brushing his mouth over the pale skin of Yoongi’s neck. “You’ll come to know them. Intimately.” Dear Satan, I should have known it was you all along. Signed, Min Yoongi   “Princess,” Jeongguk said, as he turned the girl about with ease. “I must inquire about the improvement in your steps.” She brought a hand to his shoulder, when he’d pressed himself closer, “A certain fae was offering dance lessons for free.” “And you allowed him to touch you like this?” The rabbit hybrid made a show of teasing his fingers across her skin. It was suggestive – the type of behavior that would have their parents unsettled. She quickly stole a kiss, gasping when his hands turn rough, pulling her more firmly against his chest. “Couldn’t help but notice that you have yet to deny it.” She couldn’t pass up the opportunity, “How else was I to ensure our honeymoon to the fae realm?” “Actually, I was wondering about something,” Jeongguk said, the change in his demeanor visible, growing serious. “I wanted to know if you’d like to come with me to the Isles of Lunar? I intend on making the trip regardless, but I want you there with me, since you were the one to help me realize my mistake. The night we’d formally met, when I’d revealed my truths to you, the truth about Lunar bothered me the most.” She smiled, overwhelmed by the sentiment, “Yes. I’ll go with you.” He leaned down for a kiss, but didn’t touch, waiting, until she leaned up the rest of the way to briefly seal their lips. “Also, Jimin didn’t touch me. Taehyung did.” “That wolf…” Jeongguk grumbled, pulling back far enough to stare down at her. “…is the handsiest bastard in the kingdom.”  She laughed, enjoying the way he turned petulant and jealous over it, “Trust me, I know.”

- EPILOGUE -

Jimin startled from his vision with a sharp gasp, chest heaving with each painful intake of fresh air – beads of sweat collecting along his brow, orange hair damp in his eyes. Taehyung was there beside him, the young hybrid holding onto his hand, as the other picked up the book that had fallen from the fairy's loose fingers.  

The hybrid’s ears fell back, as he swished his tail from one side to another, growing impatient with worry, “Where’d you go?”

“I went ahead,” Jimin murmured, voice soft as he stared into the wolf’s curious eyes, full of new knowledge, knowing what they would eventually become. It was difficult, seeing Taehyung grown in his vision to how young he was now, a mere boy. The things that Taehyung would eventually say and do to him were enough to make his skin burn.    

The hybrid placed the book down on the bench in favor of examining the odd tint to the fairy’s complexion, speaking in awe, “You’re glowing.” The fae’s cheek was soft and warm beneath his paint covered fingertips, flecks of glitter falling to the grass with the brush of his hand.

“It happens whenever a fairy is at their happiest,” Jimin said, educating him, all the while remaining very, very still – not even his wings dared to flutter.

The words could have meant anything, but Taehyung took them in the way they were meant to be received, that he was the cause of it. He was already so smart and clever for his young age, mature. The wolf in him practically salivated whenever the fae was near, flooding the boy with impulses that left him feeling needy, and unreasonably possessive.

He wished Jimin didn’t belong to the prince.

He wished…

Taehyung continued tracing his thumb over the fairy’s cheek, watching the glitter smudge, and crack away like dust catching in the sunlight. He then leaned towards the opposite side of Jimin’s face, pressing his trembling lips to the fae’s bright skin, lingering in that position for what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds. The heart within the wolf’s chest was pounding so loud in his ears, he was certain any hybrid within radius would be able to hear it.

The fae’s hand twitched within the boy’s hold. He was hundreds of years older than Taehyung, but he couldn’t contain the warmth he felt for him, wings resuming to fan softly. He could tell that the boy was reluctant to release him, the evidence of his kiss in specks of glitter across his mouth, and all over his hands.

“Come with me? I need to tell the prince of what I have just seen,” Jimin offered, watching the way the wolf turned from curious to excited.  

Taehyung’s tail was going a mile a minute, whacking himself on the leg, “What did you see?”

“His princess.”

THE END

Questions?

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TW

[moreracquetball]

oh my GOD that idea that you just mentioned about the fan response??? would literally die for that wtf and tbh i just want to see a lot of jason and whizzer interacting because i Always live for that

Media/Fans

the media finds out about them before they’re even like officially dating. Somehow one lucky paparazzi person that is on like stealth mode gets a picture of a tender moment when Marvin and Whizzer are out together somewhere. In the picture, Marvin is like brushing an eyelash off of Whizzer’s cheek or holding his hand or doing something really sappy (basically trying to communicate to an emotionally-stunted Whizzer that hey sleeping together is cool and all, but I want to actually date you, you know). Well, the news BLOWS UP with headlines like ‘Whizzer Brown’s Mystery Man’ and ‘Playboy baseball player settling down?’ and everyone scrambles to find out just who Marvin is. Once they find out that Marvin is a divorced dad, news outlets like TMZ are flooded with headlines like (thanks to @a-lesbian-from-next-door-too for this GEM of a headline) WHIZZER BROWN WITH DILF???

Whizzer Brown secret boyfriend is the most searched thing on Google that day.

All production in the tabloid industries stops as editors bark for their reporters to dig up more on this story. Journalists scramble for any bit of info they can get on Marvin.

And here comes disastrously incorrect articles like:

Marvin was actually still married when he and Whizzer started “dating.” Whizzer was the cause of his divorce.

Marvin is like 15 years older than Whizzer and is basically using Whizzer for his money.

Marvin has been Whizzer’s secret boyfriend (HUSBAND???) for over ten years now and it’s been kept well hushed hushed secret bc Whizzer has built a brand out of Gay Baseball Player/Playboy.

Jason is Marvin and Whizzer’s adopted child.

CONSPIRACY THEORY: Marvin and Whizzer are not actually together at all. Marvin is not even gay! Whizzer just wanted to rebrand himself from “player on and off the field” and so hired Marvin to be his fake boyfriend (pretending to be “settling down”). (this prompts a startled Marvin to exclaim, “How could anyone think I was straight???” to which Whizzer dead-panned responded, “Honey, no self-respecting gay man dresses like that.”

Also consider the TMZ panel (also credit to @a-lesbian-from-next-door-too for this exchange, too)

“Marvin? What kinda name is Marvin?”

“I know. It’s such an old man’s name!”

“It’s like he was born a middle-aged dad, you know?”

“Uh, guys, Whizzer is a pretty stupid name, too. When you think about it. I mean, who names their kid Whizzer?”

“No one asked you, Brent.”

“Yeah, Brent. Shut the fuck up.”

Marvin finds out about the news bc he goes to work the next morning and some asshole coworker has taped all the headlines around his desk (the DILF headline is blown up and taped over his entire desk).

Marvin is obv pissed and lowkey anxious bc he doesn’t want this sort of attention to negatively affect him or (GOD FORBID) Jason. Whizzer himself is just a little annoyed and sees that Marvin is upset, so he tries to like make the issue go away by tweeting out: “tfw ur out with one of ur booty calls and ppl think that just bc he held ur hand u two are getting married’. And uhh, this makes the media die down but Marvin gets more upset bc hey asshole I think I’m falling in love with you but apparently I’m still just one of your booty calls, huh? And Whizzer gets mad bc Marvin is mad and he just tried to make Marvin less mad, and angst angst angst.

When they do get together, Whizzer posts a picture on Instagram of the two of them with the caption 'tfw you fall in love with one of your booty calls’. And the Internet just kinda explodes.

Fans are a little mixed. On one hand, they’re happy that Whizzer seems to be happy. On another, they’re terrified that a relationship will somehow hurt Whizzer’s playing. They then shut the fuck up when Whizzer plays the most vicious game of his entire career and just throws the best pitches and just basically almost single-handedly eviscerates the other team. At the press conference, people ask what’s up with Whizzer’s playing, and one of Whizzer’s team members just sorta smirks and answers for him, “He has a lot of pent up tension and aggression. He hasn’t seen his boyfriend in like a month [bc it’s the peak of the season and they’ve had to move around a lot to different cities and such]." 

Guys guys guys guys, I cannot begin to describe just how i c o n i c Marvin becomes so quickly. 

Because once they’re like “official,” Whizzer spams his instagram account with Marvin - Marvin in a new gifted Red Sox jersey while Jason (in his decked out Yankees uniform) glares mockingly at him; at the park during a crisp fall afternoon, Marvin breathless and red-faced and caught mid-laugh; Marvin comically but dead-seriously holding a baseball bat with a stance and grip that makes Whizzer and all baseball fans around the world weep; Marvin Jason and Whizzer, in a cheesy selfie after a really tough game; a picture of Marvin’s back as the man is hunched over an oven (this one has the caption “I love when a man puts the steak in ;) ” ); a particularly artsy one with a black and white filter, with Marvin (asleep, hair mussed, naked but only his bare arms, shoulders, and upper back is not obscured by the white sheets) asleep in their bed. The fans lose their minds over these pictures, along with the little tibits of info/stories that Whizzer shares when prompted about what a dorky/lame/baseball-hating/he-writes-me-poetry-literally-what-a-fucking-nerd that his new boyfriend is. 

When tweets and questions about Marvin keep buzzing Whizzer, Whizzer kindly asks (not forces, Jeez, Marv, don’t make it sound like I held a gun to your back) that Marvin get his own instagram/twitter accounts so they can just fawn over Marvin directly and leave Whizzer the hell alone to answer questions about baseball and photography and not about his relationship every fucking five minutes

This turns out to be a mistake. Marvin amasses ten thousand followers in six months. The guy barely even posts about Whizzer himself. He posts about broadway reviews and retweets funny cat pictures and every once in awhile, he posts partiuclarly needling things like how chess is better than baseball and he tags and @’s Whizzer in all of them. And everyone??? Loves it??? Whizzer is a little jealous at how people fawn over Marvin?? Like where’s some Whizzer love??? Whizzer is still the twunk that everyone loves, right???

Marvin is slowly accepted by the baseball wives. They’re catty and cliquish and they make Marvin’s life a living hell those first few months, but when Marvin does not take their shit and keeps pushing back, they grow to a mutual understanding that soon turns into begrudged respect that eventually turns into tentative friendship that eventually much much later turns into “if you dare utter one mean word or look at Marvin the wrong way, I will slit your throat with my sharpened, manicured, pastel pink-painted nails.” Whizzer shares one picture on his insta of Marvin with the baseball wives, with a glass of champagne in his hand and looking like he’s talking shit and the other baseball wives are laughing and eating this shit up, and he captions it: I think my boyfriend joined a cult.

The media as a whole leaves the two alone after they turn out to be just a regular couple and not that interesting?? EXCEPT EXCEPT EXCEPT (see next bullet point)

Okay, so Marvin hates baseball, right? This is established. This is well known. This is Fact. Well, after they become like “official” and the media now knows who Marvin is, news outlets start to attack him/make fun of him/crucify him for looking bored at Whizzer’s baseball games. Like he’ll have his phone out or he’ll have his chin propped up with his hand as if trying to combat sleepiness and sometimes he brings like a magazine to read and he always has that bored, vaguely pained “I do not want to be here right now” look on his face. And any time that the Red Sox makes a good play or gets a homerun, it’s clear that he’s been spacing out bc whenever the people around him start cheering, he likes jumps and does that weak, wide-eyed “Idk what just happened and i kinda want death right now but I am being supportive” clap (one time, he zoned out and Whizzer’s opposing team got a homerun, and Marvin just started meekly clapping bc he heard the crowd doing it and ESPN and TMZ and all the news outlets had a field day of making fun of him).

And the media??? is like “why are you not supporting your partner? You embarrass him by looking so bored. Can’t you learn to love the sport if you love him??” and being really bitchy about it. And Whizzer gets pissed and so goes on air during a press conference - when some smart-ass reporter tries to make a barb about Marvin looking bored and in pain - and says really bitchily, “Guys, Marvin just doesn’t like baseball, okay? Yeah, that makes him an idiot - because baseball is incredible - but it doesn’t make him a bad partner. I don’t expect him to love the things that I love. I like that we’re different, you know? That makes him less boring. Like, he goes to my games even though he hates baseball. That is being supportive. Like fucking hell, guys, I’m with him because he makes me laugh and has a great ass - not because he’s some super baseball fan.” CUE MIC DROP.

And yeah, there are homophobic reactions to the relationship. Facebook groups dedicated to it. Marvin gets hate mail and one time got like yelled at on the street. Some of the media’s stories are overtly homophobic and overly crass. It’s 2017, sure, but there are still idiots out there.

Marvin and Whizzer don’t let the attention - good or bad - get to them. They just keep being in love and posting overly sappy instagram posts about their anniversaries and poking fun at each other on twitter and the attention never breaks them.

I will posts Jason specific headcanons later but like dang, this took a lot out of me bc I have a lot of FEELINGS and if you have more headcanons about this topic, reblog and add your own bc I’m curious how you feel the media/fans would take this.

[tisfan]

So, I don't normally ask for prompt fills, but I've had a really rough night tonight. On my way home after a very long day, I ended up in a gridlock on the highway due to a fatal accident, and a 30 minute drive took me about 2 hours. So prompt: any pairing - there's a fatal accident, and the news reports that one of the Avengers was involved. Their friend/lover can't get hold of them and freaks out. The Avenger is okay, but their phone died (or was lost). There's yelling, then making up

That’s My Jam

There were plenty of things Clint loved about being an Avenger.

And he had plenty of time to think about them, because thisfucking traffic wasn’t going anywhere.

He started listing them in his head. In detail. And then, for thehell of it, in alphabetical order, just because Tony wouldn’t think that Clintcould manage that much detail. Suck it, Stark.

Being an Avenger was great.

Well, the hours kinda blew. And there was some sort of fucked upside of the universe that seemed to think that Clint shouldn’t be able to takea day off, because whenever he did, something always, always happened.

And then there was all the time spent in medical (and the timeavoiding the time spent in medical, because Clint.) Honestly, Clint spent moretime with bandaids holding his various bits together than he ever had before inhis life. And he was a certified adrenaline junkie with a history of epicallypoor decision making skills.

Okay, so maybe being an Avenger was less than great.

But it had some nice side bennies.

Like the fact that Clint would never, ever have met his gorgeous,smart-ass, self-satisfied, asshole boyfriend, if it wasn’t for the Avengers.Speaking of which, Clint would love for his gorgeous, smart-ass, self-satisfiedasshole boyfriend to come SCOOP HIM UP OUT OF TRAFFIC with his goddamn wingsbecause Clint had the car in damn Park and had for almost forty minutes now,and he was going to run out of gas if this kept up.

He pulled out his cellphone and punched the entry for BirdBrain2(Bird Brain was his nickname, and Tony had given it to him special, and justbecause Bucky had started calling Sam Bird Brain instead didn’t meananything, right? Right.)

Also, since he was bored and traffic wasn’t going anywhere anyway,Clint clicked the phone over to his Avenger’s comm unit and climbed out of thecar. He might get a better idea what was going on from the roof, right.

“Hey babe,” Sam said as he picked up the phone. “Where are you?”

“Traffic blows hoary goats,” Clint said by way of answer. Hecouldn’t see anything standing on the roof of his car. A few other driversblared their horns, like they thought Clint standing there meant they’d bestuck longer. Clint flipped them off absently. He gauged the distance betweenthe roof of his car and the semi in front of him. Ah, hell with it. “Rancid,hoary goats with huge balls and--”

He hopped down, grabbed his bow out of the back seat.

“Now there is an image that I didn’t ask to see,” Sam said. “Youknow that sex you wanted to have, ever again? Shut up now.”

There’s more below the cut. Or read on A03

“Okay,” Clint agreed. He eyed the bridge supports, turned andfired a zipline. He inhaled at just the right time so that the jerk and tugdidn’t make him cough and splutter and sound like an idiot. He pulled histac-goggles out of his quiver and slid them over his eyes. “Remind me to makeTony a pie.”

“You? Want to bake something. For Tony?” Sam mocked. “Need Iremind you of what happened the last time you tried to make cookies. And thatwas from one of those pathetic break and bake packs.”

Clint found it completely adorable (and a little sappy, pathetic,and heartbreaking) that he knew his boyfriend was grinning just from the soundof his voice. Take that, doctors who said losing his hearing was going to havea profoundly negative effect on his life. Of course, Tony had also donesomething about that, with an inner-cochlear implant. No more losing hishearing aids. No more wall of sound coming at him that he couldn’t sort.

“Okay, well, buy him a pie.” He squinted down the bridge. Asemi-trailer had shoved through the guard rails on the side. The loaded rig wason its side, the cab part of it hanging off the side of the bridge, attached byonly the fifth wheel coupling and a hell of a lot of prayers.

The driver was trapped inside and rescue personnel were trying tofigure out how to get the semi-conscious man out of the truck without sendingthe entire mess into the water.

Clint narrowed his gaze to the fifth wheel coupling and thetac-glasses shot up a ton of data onto the headsup. Including the fact that thekingpin wouldn’t hold for much longer under the strain, which would send the truckpart into the river below.

Blink. Click. Thirty meters below, which for a normal, unenhancedhuman, would be like falling on concrete. Combined with being trapped insidethe cab, which was not what one would call waterproof. Already injured.

Standard rescue wasn’t going to get there in time.

“Gotta go, babe,” Clint said. “Something in traffic needsAvenging.”

“Clint, don’t do anything stupid--”

“Aw, phone, no.” Clint said. “Can’t hear you, you’re breaking up,I’m going through a tunnel.”

“No, you are not, Clint! Clint!”

Clint hung up. He eyed the bridge again. Tapped his wrist guardand lined up an explosive, a zip line, and a net arrow. Nock, pull, release.Nock, pull, release. Nock, pull, release.

It was go time.

Sam was staring at his phone like it was personally responsiblefor betraying him. Goddammit, Clint. It was a thing. He probably saidit, or thought it, or thought about thinking it some fifty times a day, fromeverything as small as Clint forgot that toilet paper was a thing to Clintattacked fifty DoomBots with a bow and a killer smile.

If Clint was about to start a fist fight in the middle of traffic,that was bad, but only small bad. Lowercase bad. Aside from the whole he was anAvenger, and trained in lethal combat, and generally beating the shit out of acivvie, no matter how deserving, was going to be bad PR and then Pepper wouldbe all over everyone’s ass with her ridiculous stilettos and Clint wouldprobably have to do some charity events to get back into people’s good graces,and that meant Sam was going to have to do some charity events with hisboyfriend, because… because Pepper. Which was kinda okay, because Sam’s boylooked good in a suit, and watching Clint try to behave like an actualfunctioning adult was hilarious.

Especially around buffet food.

Except Clint hadn’t sounded angry and getting ready to go off half(or fully) cocked.

“JARVIS, can you bring up traffic cams near Barton’s location?”

“I can do better than that, Mr. Wilson,” the computer AI said,smoothly. “There are news cameras on site. Shall I bring up CNN or MSNBC?”

“Gimme both, why not. What the hell is he up to?”

News cameras for traffic wasn’t normal. Which meant somethingexciting was going on.

“... video from the scene shows a large section of damagedguardrail,” the reporter was saying, slightly breathless as she clung to theinside of a news chopper. The camera flicked over to her, hand on the clutchbar, microphone covering her mouth as she talked. Then back to the bridge wherea tractor-trailer was dangling off the side, driver held in by the seatbelt,but limp and unmoving.

“Level 2 wind restrictions were in place at the time of the incident,but there’s no word as to whether or not the driver was in violation.Forty-seven mile an hour winds have been causing no end of trouble tolarge-load drivers, but --”

The picture flicked again; someone on scene was interviewinganother rig-driver. “On a windy day, you can feel it, and you’ll be pushingyour trailer and your tractor to the left or the right, whichever way the windis blowing. You can actually feel it; it’s a hurting feeling and you know ofcourse I said a prayer for him…” The underpicture scrawl identified the driveras Charles Lattimore, long-time independent truck driver.

“... water temperature here is forty-five degrees,” the newswomanreported. “If rescue personnel cannot get the driver to safety, there’s littlehope that he can survive the fall. Hypothermia is a very real danger insituations like these.”

Sam squinted at the screen. Not at the rig, but above, on thebridge guidewires. A shifting movement caught his eye. He tapped the holo, atthe spot. “Can you clear this up any? Enhance?”

Yep. There was Sam’s idiot boyfriend, playing Spider-man.

The fucking news camera wouldn’t stay focused where Sam wantedthem to look. Did they not see that there was another player on the scene?

He caught a brief glimpse of Clint drawing back his bow, and thenthe truck was going over the side.

“Wings, JARVIS, now,” Sam snapped. Straight as the Falcon flew,the bridge was less than three minutes from the Tower. Sam wasn’t the onlyAvenger with a launch-pad outside the bedroom. JARVIS pulled open the lift andSam grabbed his pack, buckling himself into it without stopping his forwardmotion toward the pad. The door slid open without even having to ask, and Samwas airborne the instant his toes were clear, diving even as the wingsactivated.

Don’t let me be too late, again, Samthought. Prayed. Would have stopped to sacrifice a goat, if he could have. Samwas on first name basis with an actual god, surely that had to have some pull,right?

Half the truck was still on the bridge by the time Sam got there,but it wasn’t the half that was important. The cab, presumably the driver, and…where the fuck was Clint.

“Hawkeye, report!” Sam activated the voice-amplifier.

Nothing.

“Come on, babe, where are you?” Sam zipped over where the rescuedivers were already in place. He landed on the deck, listened to his wings foldup and the crew there were staring at him. “Did they go under?”

“We’ve got divers in the water,” one stunned crew woman answered.

“Get the hell off my deck,” the captain was bellowing. “I don’tcare if you’re an angel, an Avenger, or God Himself, you --”

Sam was gone already. His wings were not made for submersiblecombat, and even if they were, he didn’t have a rebreather. He wasn’t Iron Manin an airtight, space-worthy armor. He wasn’t Steve, who jumped out of planeswithout parachutes and could bench press submarines. He was just a guy with aunique skill set, who’d happened to make friends with exactly the wrong personat exactly the right time.

He and Clint had bonded a bit, over their normal-guy-ness.

Where the fuck was Clint?

“Oh, no, you are not goan be a normal guy and die on me now,Hawkeye,” Sam said.

“Ohhhh, Sammie,” a grouchy, rusty voice said. “You say thesweetest things.”

“Clint?” Sam pushed his comm unit harder into his ear as if thatwas going to matter at all. “Where the fuck are you?”

“I see you down there, hoverin’ around like you’re actuallyworried about me,” Clint teased.

“Clint. Where.”

“Look up, angel,” Clint said. Sam tipped his head.

Just under the bridge, suspended like they were Luke and Han inthat stupid Ewok trap, was Clint and what was presumably the truck driver.

“This? This was your plan? Get strung up like a Christmasturkey?” Sam snapped. Still, he flew up and landed on one of the bridgesupports. Getting Clint down from there was going to take a little more liftthan Sam had. Under extreme duress, Sam could carry Captain America, but Clintand an unconscious, injured truck driver was probably more strain than hiswings could handle.

“Hey, I had to make it up on the fly,” Clint said.

“You don’t get to make that pun, that is my pun and you can’t haveit,” Sam snapped. Oh, god, his chest hurt. “Why the fuck didn’t you answer mesooner?”

A second voice answered, croaky and soft and full of pain. “Mightahit him in the head. Didn’ know he was tryin’ to help. Sorry.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “You got punched in the head by someonewhose life you were saving?”

“Aw, story, no,” Clint objected. “And he didn’t punch me, he clockedme with the damn steering wheel. I have a damn steering wheel shaped bruiseon my forehead! Now stop hoverin’ around like the world’s most uselesshummingbird and get us out of here.”

Sam tapped his wrist comm-unit and opened a line to Stark. “Hey,Ironman, I need someone to do some heavy lifting here. Clint’s eaten too manypizzas and I can’t seem to get him off the couch.”

“Asshole,” Clint muttered.

“And you love me,” Sam said, sing-song.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Driver Rescued when Tractor-Trailer goes over the side of Bridge

The tractor-trailer went into the water at the 1.5 mile marker onthe westbound side of the bridge. Driver Sal Bennet was rescued by Avenger’smember, Clinton Francis Barton, better known to the world at large as Hawkeye,who was caught up in the traffic delay caused by the incident.

Barton’s longtime partner, Samuel Wilson, was also on sight, afterseeing Hawkeye dive after the injured driver. Traffic is never fun, butsometimes, with Avengers around, it can be pretty exciting.

The entire team turned out to visit Bennet in his hospital roomand wish him a speedy recovery.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fifth-wheel_coupling -- in case you don’t know what that is. I worked in a truckrepair shop for a number of years, so I saw them a lot

[5hfanfiction]

Progression - Chapter 1

(Dinah’s older than Camila in this, but really, everyone’s ages are kind of screwed up.)

-

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? If we were in a dorm, we’d be rooming with random people. You know me, and you know Mani.” Dinah deadpans, nudging the front door all the way open with her foot.

Camila sighs deeply, setting an incorrectly marked box on the kitchen counter. “But we don’t know Lauren.”

“We’ll get to know her. Besides, if Mani says she’s good people, then I trust her, and so should you.” She sets the scissors next to the box and starts back through the door, calling out, “Now shut up for 5 minutes and help me.”

Camila frowns at Dinah’s blind faith in a girl she doesn’t know. Sure, Normani trusts her, and while she is a great judge of character, but she hasn’t seen her properly in over three years, and a lot can change in that time. Aside from that, Normani’s character doesn’t determine Lauren’s, since everyone knows, good people can have the worst friends. Yes, Dinah has a point that this is probably better than a random room assignment, but the fact that they signed a lease, a legally binding contract, and now all their money is tied up in this apartment for the next two years, is stressing her out. Damn Dinah and her overly convincing puppy-dog eyes.

The younger girl follows her friend outside to where the moving truck is parked, containing all four roommates combined belongings. “Get that side.” Dinah juts her chin out toward the opposite end of the couch she’s holding.

Camila obeys her friend’s orders and they lift it easily, even though Dinah would be fine on her own, but that would look suspect. The taller girl starts the trek upstairs, smiling in thanks at the young adult male holding the door for them.

“You two good?” He questions in a thick accent she can’t quite place.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks.” Camila interjects curtly, noticing the flirtatious look taking over her friend’s features. If she allows Dinah a word in, they could easily be standing there for an exceedingly long period of time for someone carrying an item of furniture that weighs four times what they do.

The boy just nods and exits once they’ve completely gone through the doorway. Dinah glares at Camila for sending away a potential mate, but says nothing. The Latina sighs thankfully, knowing she takes flirting very seriously, and was glad to have stomped it out before it could get started.

Over the years, Camila has seen a great deal of amorous exchanges involving her friend, and she completely understands why. Dinah is easily one of the most attractive people Camila knows. Granted, she doesn’t know very many people, but she counts people on the television, and shop customers as well. Physically, the older girl is pretty perfect; she’s tall, tan, and muscular, with insanely soft and thick hair that was usually some shade between brown and blond without really being either, and was “built like an acoustic guitar”, as Ariana had once put it. The statement had earned her a slap to the back of the head from one of Dinah’s large hands, her abnormally long fingers leaving red marks on the back of the petite girl’s neck for a solid 24 hours, an action the assailant soon regretted when the remark was explained.

The two make it up the stairs silently, efficiently, and slide the plush piece through the doorway. While Camila is content with leaving it in the previously designated area, Dinah suddenly finds a fault with it’s positioning, and keeps moving it in minute, nearly indistinguishable jerks in all directions.

“Dinah, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to center it. Don’t you think it looks weird?”

“No, because there’s only one place to put it,” Camila gestures around the now fully furnished living room, “and it looks fine.”

The older girl sucks her teeth and frowns at her friend. “If I wanted to live somewhere ‘fine’, I’d have stayed at home. I want my apartment to be poppin’.”

“Dinah, we’re college students now. Like, 95% of our income goes to bills and food. We can’t afford to pop; we can’t even afford to sizzle.”

“So we’ll save up, and pool our money. Then we can buy furniture that doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out from looking at it for longer than 5 seconds.”

“Well, you can spend all your disposable income on popping, and sizzling, and frying, or whatever, but don’t come to me when you’re hungry or need gas money.” Camila kicks off her shoes and places them on the mat beside the front door.

Dinah laughs lightly and follows suit. “You say that like you really think you wouldn’t give me anything I asked for.”

“I want us to do this right, Dinah. You’re 18 now, I’ll be 18 soon enough…Ally’s trusting us not to live at home this year, and I really don’t want to give her any reason to think we’re irresponsible.” She pauses for a moment. “More irresponsible. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

The taller of the two smiles gently and pulls her friend into a strong, but not crushing, hug. “Jesus, Chancho. I’m the legal adult here, remember?” While her tone is teasing, her hold is firm, because she knows everything about this situation is new and had been worrying Camila since the idea had first been proposed almost six months ago. “Everything will be fine. Ally already trusts you, even more than Zayn, and he co-owns her businesses. If anyone should be putting in extra effort, it’s me-which I will, promise-so don’t worry.”

They stand in motionless silence for a few minutes. “We’ve been in this apartment for 5 minutes, and it’s already made you all sappy and gross.” Camila mumbles tiredly into the Polynesian’s chest. Indisputably, Dinah give the best hugs in the entire universe; it has something to do with the perfectly balanced combination of her warmth, softness and comforting scent. Unfortunately, that precise mix is currently working to put her to sleep.

“You always gotta ruin the moment.” Dinah rolls her eyes and shoves Camila back, into the the blue and white striped fabric recliner Ally had given them. “I’m gonna start with the kitchen. Can you unpack the bathroom stuff?”

“Uh-huh.” Camila nods, but makes no effort to stand up. Her body suddenly feels too heavy to support itself, so she just tucks her legs underneath her body and lays her head on one of the arms. She nods off quickly to the sounds of Dinah moving around, occasionally making noises of agreement to whatever was being said until she was too far gone to reply.

“Did you pack the wire rack with the kitchen stuff?” Dinah calls out, waiting a bit for a response before moving towards the more open area of the apartment. “Walz?”

She smiles at the sight of her small friend curled up in the chair, sleeping peacefully. Although she could use the help, she goes back to unpacking without even attempting to wake her up. Aside from Camila’s deep breathing, and the more distant sounds of other inhabitants being alive, it’s pretty quiet; Dinah Jane Hansen cannot stand quiet. Long stretches of silence are uncomfortable to her, and it makes her feel too close to death, unless she’s trying to sleep, then anyone making any type of noise is at risk of literally being close to death. This was one of the many reasons Ally had moved them to separate rooms, multiple times. Camila enjoyed the environment Dinah despised, thrived in it, in fact. Her own love of loud music, television and people had always clashed with her friend’s dislike, a concern that was sat at the back of her mind when she’d realized, for the first time in over two years, they’d be sharing together again. As well as they get along, she doesn’t know if she can survive another second rooming with “Can you turn it down?”, and “D, I have a headache, please?”. It’s not her fault that Camila has sensitive ears.

Since she’s not a total asshole, and doesn’t want to risk waking Camila up, she works without music. This could also be explained by the fact it would be practically impossible to find the box with her headphones inside at this point in time. Naturally, her mind begins to wander, and she remembers Camila’s earlier concerns. For as far back as her memory goes, she’s lived with Ally, and, while she was more than ready to spread her metaphorical wings with little concern for how things would play out, the older woman had been hesitant to let her go. Eventually, they’d reached an agreement where Dinah could go if she could convince Camila to fill the final roommate position Normani and Lauren were looking for. This was difficult simply because Camila didn’t want to move out, and was, although she’d been accepted to the same college as Dinah, planning on going to a different university based solely on the location of the campus. In the end, it took a solid month of groveling and guilt-tripping before she agreed, and thus, papers were signed and money was put down, much to Ally’s displeasure. It was understandable for her to be so upset, as she’d literally raised Dinah, and made her dismay known by dramatically sulking around the house for nearly a month after they’d graduated. A small part of her wondered what her birth parents would say, how they would feel to see her graduating. Ally had refused to tell Dinah what had become of her biological family, aside from something about an “unfortunate accident”, claiming she would learn the full story when she was older. Of course she had a difficult time believing 32 people had all succumb to the same fate, but she was happy with the people she did consider family, and still held onto the belief that Ally would tell her one day.

Frowning, she took a deep breath to clear her head of the negative thoughts and stepped back from what she was doing. She looked around in mild surprise, unsure of when she’d packed away four full boxes worth of stuff, and checked the time. 

7:08. It’s been a little over an hour since she started, and about another one to go before Normani and Lauren were scheduled to arrive. Peering over the back of the chair to make sure Camila’s not stirring, Dinah scrolls through her phone and starts playing a random playlist in her “Bops” folder, but still on a low volume, just in case.

Music really is a great way to pass the time, because just as she’s deciding if the top shelf should house mugs or plates, there’s a key turning in the lock.

“Hey, DJ.” Normani grins widely from the doorway, almost instantly being lifted into Dinah’s arms.

“Manz! I Haven’t seen you in-” Dinah quickly lowers her volume and friend, remembering the sleeping girl a few feet away, “forever.”

“What’s wrong?” Normani asks confusedly at the sudden behavioral change. Dinah tilts her head in Camila’s direction as they separate. “And here I thought she’d be the one doing all the work while you were off somewhere drooling.”

“It’s not my fault Walz usually does everything. I’m not lazy, she’s an overachiever.” Dinah doesn’t even attempt to claim that she doesn’t drool, as Normani, Camila, and Ariana had all been too enthusiastic to show her the embarrassing proof in the past. 

“How long did you try to wake her up for?”

“I didn’t. She’s taking a nap outside of the full moon or being sick for the first time in like six years; it’s better to just let her sleep.”

Normani nods, knowing Dinah speaks the truth. She’s never met anyone who hates being asleep more than the 17 year old in the recliner. Changing the subject, she raises a large brown paper bag Dinah had previously missed. “Anyways, I brought you guys something.”

“Food?” Dinah questions, although the answer is obvious, and snatches the bag from her hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I thought I was actually going to have to…you know.”

“You mean cook?” Dinah hates cooking as much as Camila hates sleeping, and Normani has trouble understanding either sentiment.

“Yeah, that.” Dinah takes a generous bite out of a random burger and turns towards the partially open door. “Where’s Lauren? I thought she was coming with you?”

“She was, but her parents wanted to have a family dinner tonight, so she transferred to an early morning flight.” Normani pulls the front door shut and locks it. She’s not risking someone just walking in and slaughtering them in their sleep. It won’t matter if Dinah and Camila are there if they get to her first.

“Don’t her parents live in Miami? That’s less than a three hour drive.” As she speaks, a chunky, liquefied mix of meat and bun spills down her chin, dyed yellow from the high ratio of mustard to pretty much everything else between the pieces of bread.

Normani hands Dinah a napkin, not particularly disgusted by the display, as she’d gotten used to her and Camila’s disastrous eating habits long ago. “It was at her uncle’s in Tennessee,” she stretches out on the couch and gestures to the three of them, “so it’ll just be us this evening.”

“If Mila even bothers to wake up.” Dinah replies before realizing something. “Hold up, who said you could sit down?”

“What?”

“Girl, get yo ass up and do something.”

“But Mila-”

“She’s allowed to sleep because she actually did some work before. Did you really believe you could bring us some food and we’d let you get away not doing anything?” The innocent look on Normani’s face says everything, and Dinah laughs loudly. “Hoe, you thought. Now go unpack the boxes for the bathroom.”

Normani sighs theatrically, but starts down the hall anyway, not wanting to feel Dinah’s wrath over something so insignificant, and also because she knows damn well it won’t get done otherwise.

They continue to talk back and forth for a while, calling out to each other across the apartment after they’d determined Camila probably wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

“D, what the hell are these?” Normani rounds the corner holding an cartoon rocket ship bath mat and Space Invaders shower curtain.

“Ally got those as part of our going away present, even though we’ve only gone like an hour and a half away.”

“Did you make sure to tell her you guys were starting college and not kindergarten? It looks like she’s a bit confused.” Secretly, Normani finds the gifts cute, because she’s gotten to know Ally thoroughly over the last four years, and it’s just like her to do something all sentimental like this.

“Walz didn’t want to hurt her feelings by not bringing them, and I don’t want to risk her just showing up and not seeing them in place, you know?” The soft tone in the younger girl’s voice contrasts starkly with the pained grimace on her face. It’s like she’s physically hurting from just being in the presence of the brightly colored accessories.

“That’s really sweet of you, to sacrifice your sanity out of love and fear.”

“Fear? What are you talking about? I’m not afraid of Ally.”

“That’s such a fucking lie and you know it.” Normani smiles knowingly at Dinah’s overly defensive stance: arms crossed, brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and annoyance, and legs shoulder width apart. “She’s your mom, you pretty much have to be scared of her.”

“Yeah, but I’m not. The only time I’ve only even mildly feared her was those couple of times when she got really mad at me, because believe you me, when the 'a’ in Ally stands for angry, you don’t want to be anywhere near her.”

“It’s hard to imagine Ally like that.” Normani sets the mat and curtain on one of the few boxes not yet pushed into it’s proper room yet; not that they even know what it is, since Lauren and Normani decided drunk and tipsy packing, respectively, would be a good idea.

“It’s good you only have to go based off imagination and not experience. Trust me, she’s like a little volcano.”

“What am I when I’m angry?”

“You’re like…a slowly melting block of ice.”

“I don’t-what?”

“You’re all cold towards whoever you’re mad at, and you don’t show it at first, but then you start getting all snippy and stay salty for as long as you’re pissed off. You aren’t an explosive person.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s true. And you’re not either, most of the time. Unless you feel really threatened, or somebody does something seriously messed up, you’re pretty calm.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want people to know I’m angry with them, all the time, and get all suspicious. Why do you think I’m so good at pranks?”

“Because you lowkey want to be a bully, but you know Ally would have your ass, so you found a slightly less abrasive outlet.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to stop talking to Walz. Her and all her deep thinking is fucking you up.”

“Are you saying I’m not a deep thinker?”

“No, but you’re not like her, and believe me when I say that’s a good thing.”

There’s a slight pause before anyone speaks again. “What about Mila?”

“What about Mila?” Dinah reiterates, not understanding Normani’s question.

“If Ally’s a volcano-”

“Little volcano.” She can hear the smirk in her voice, even though she isn’t looking at her.

“-and I’m a block of ice, what’s Camila like when she’s mad?”

“Walz doesn’t get mad.”

“Dinah, you’ve known her since she was six.”

“I know that, but I’ve never seen her anything more than moderately annoyed, usually by me or Zayn.”

“I know Mila doesn’t have a bad temper, I mean she spends most of her time with you, we’d know at this point, but nothing?” The eldest resident sits on the arm of the recliner and looks down at it’s occupant, tone dripping with incredulity.

Dinah takes a moment to think before replying. “There was this one time I remember when she was really genuinely upset. We were like eight and three of my friends-you remember those annoying ass girls I told you I used to hang out with right before middle school?-came over to stay for April vacation. Walz had already been there for a couple of weeks, and I was sick before, so of course she got it, but Ally already agreed to watch those terrible children, so she put in place her standard quarantine procedures.” Dinah doesn’t elaborate, knowing Normani is fully aware of Ally’s behaviour when anyone in her household is ill. “It was like halfway through their stay and Ally was in the kitchen, when Walz comes downstairs for the first time in days, looking for her. We were in the living room, so we saw her first, and Sierra, of course, decided to cause a problem.”

“Sierra was the one with the parents that owned those condos, right?”

“That was Genevive. Sierra’s parents bought that amusement park that closed down like two years later.”

“How did you know these people?”

“Public school. Go figure.” Dinah purposely avoids answering Normani’s actual question in favor of finishing the memory. “Anyways, they were just talking all kinds of mess, and I just kinda stood there, because, you know, I was a stupid elementary schooler and these were my cool friends. Then Sierra went too far and threw Q outside into the downpour, Mila went after him, and they locked her out. Genevive and Evie went in the kitchen to make sure she didn’t try to come in through the front door, and I…” Dinah trails off for a moment, noticeably uncomfortable. “I pulled the blinds in the back so Ally wouldn’t see her, then we helped with lunch. By the time Ally found her, she’d already been outside for like three hours.”

Normani’s brow furrows, having heard other stories of how Dinah was kind of an asshole at that age, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. “Please tell me Mila came for you.”

“No, but Ally did after I told her what happened." 

"You actually told Ally?” Normani asks skeptically. The Dinah she knows would do almost anything to stay out of trouble, or at least modify the truth enough to spare herself too severe of a punishment. Admitting to laughing with your 'friends’ being mean to your friend, then locking said friend outside in the rain with no plans of telling anyone isn’t exactly how one would prevent that.

“Believe it or not, eight year old Dinah Jane still felt guilt on occasion. I couldn’t not tell her, especially when we found out Walz had pneumonia. Ally blamed that on the rain, and even though the doctor said that’s not what caused it, I wasn’t going to try to use that to defend myself. Not the point, so Q was all muddy and gross,  and Ally told Mila she was going to wash him, you know, the common sense thing to do, and she lost it. She started crying her eyes out and begging Ally not to, like she almost threw up from crying so hard. It was terrible. My friends were staring in surprise and disgust, and I was so embarrassed. Yes, I know, I was a terrible friend, stop looking at me like that. And Ally was completely freaking out because she’d never seen her like that, and she couldn’t figure out how to calm her down. So she just carried her upstairs.”

“Wow.” It’s a well known fact that Camila is a very emotional person, but Normani has never seen her cry, at least not the way Dinah was describing it. Sure, she’d seen her shed a couple tears at the sad scenes in movies, or from laughing way too hard, but nothing so emotional. “I don’t get it. Why was she crying?”

“I don’t know. We never asked her. I don’t even think she remembers it happening, so Ally decided to just blame it on her fever. You know how Ally likes to be prepared for everything, so that kind of fucked her up for a while. Really though, it was so…unexpected, and out of character. I mean, when I was teaching her how to ride a bike, she fell down the side of a rocky hill, into a stream, and didn’t make a sound. This was something else.”

“You guys had a real weird childhood.” Even though she already knows this.

“You tell me that anytime I tell you anything. And not really, yours was just super boring.”

Normani snorts. “No, my childhood was normal. Ally literally owns a magic shop. Where is the normality?”

“It’s normal to us.” Dinah says with an air of finality, not wanting to dwell on negative memories. “Now, go finish setting up the bathroom.”

“Dinah! Really? You’re gonna make me do more work? It’s nighttime.”

“Yes, now get up.”

“I’m tired." 

"Mani.”

“No.” The darker girl whines, stretching out the word.

“I wasn’t giving you an option.” Dinah throws a pillow at Normani, her previously unmoving target effectively dodging the projectile, causing it to hit the sleeping girl in the face. 

Camila groans quietly and shifts in her sleep, forcing her eyes open as she knocks the pillow onto the floor. “I…was asleep?”

“You were.” Dinah glares at Normani, more playful than serious.

“Mani?” Camila mumbles around a yawn, recognizing the familiar perfume coming off the figure above her. “I thought you weren’t getting here until tonight.”

The older girl grins down at her friend, and gestures towards the hall windows where the blinds are still open. “It is night, Mila.”

“It’s-wha?” She rubs her eyes, confused as to how it was pitch black out when the sun had been shining brightly just minutes before.

“It’s almost 9:30. You’ve been out for nearly 3 hours.” Dinah’s voice replies from behind her.  

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Camila speaks to Dinah, but extends her arms towards Normani, signaling she wants a hug.

“You were barely sitting down for 5 minutes before you fell asleep. If I woke you up, you’d just be cranky and do a shit job at unpacking.”

Normani slid down into Camila’s lap, wrapping the Cuban up in her arms. “Plus, you probably wouldn’t have woken up anyway. Dinah’s been playing music this entire time, stuff was being moved around, and we were literally talking right over you for the past 20 minutes.

"And, I made smoothies.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Dinah opens the fridge and pulls out three glass bottles, each containing a different colored puree. Honestly, she hadn’t even remembered she’d made them until now. “Try me again.”

“Shit.” Camila knows she can be a heavy sleeper, but their blender is basically a small glass lawnmower for food items. “Is one of those mine?”

“Of course that’s what you focus on.” Camila adjusts Normani in her lap, so she has a free hand to hold the bottle Dinah passes her.

“Thank you.” She takes a sip of the thick liquid, savoring the, overwhelmingly to every other living being, banana flavor and peanut butter aftertaste. “Have I ever told you that I love you more than most things?”

“Only every time I give you food.”

“Those are very good times.”

“Speaking of food,” Normani interjects, remembering something important. “Lauren wants to have lunch with you guys tomorrow, since she can’t make it here tonight.”

“Sure, I’m free between 12 and 2. I have to get to the bakery for 3:30.”

“I’ll be back by 12:30, since I’m opening tomorrow.”

“Lauren and I are both available then, so lets say, 12:45 at that Italian restaurant across from the town center.”

“The one with the yellow tomatoes in the salad and butter that kind of tastes like gravy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Now I’m hungry.” Normani hears Camila speak the complaint into her shoulder.

“You were hungry the moment you woke up.” Dinah hands her the not completely cold take out bag from the fridge. “Here. Normani brought burgers, so I saved you one and a half. There’s also most of a large fries-don’t you dare look at me like that. You’re lucky I didn’t eat all your fries.”

“You’re a literal angel.” Normani has no time to respond before Camila grabs her face and kisses her wetly on the cheek, then starts in on the stuffed half turkey burger.

“Anyway,” Normani starts, wiping the saliva off her face in disgust, “she’s really excited to meet you guys. I’m just kind of worried, you know?”

“Why?” The word vibrates her arm, which lays limp across Camila’s chest.

“It’s just, I’ve built you guys up so much, she’ll probably be disappointed when the real thing is right in front of her.”

There’s a loud clapping sound as Dinah’s hand connects with Normani’s back, nearly knocking her over. “Girl, you scared me for a second! I thought you were being serious.”

“You could be an actress. That was really convincing.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I’m being serious. Plus, you’ve got the face for it: acting, modeling, all that picture stuff.” Camila’s voice is muffled as she holds the rest of her burger between her teeth, digging through the empty paper wrappers Dinah left in the bag in search of the spilled fries.

“Yeah, and besides, you’re a great actress, and dancer, and once people get a look at that face, they’ll be dying to plaster it up all over magazine covers, and billboards, and giant posters that’ll hang in horny teenager’s bedrooms.” Dinah admits honestly as she flops down on the couch.

“And park benches!” Camila adds excitedly, probably only really thinking of the park portion of the suggestion.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think I want anyone sitting on my face.”

“Yet another thing you and Walz don’t have in common.” As Dinah Jane is the biggest fan of her own jokes, she fails miserably at holding back the laugh that Normani lets out in full.

Camila waits for the giggles to subside before attempting to respond. “You say that like it’s not one of the greatest experiences ever, for all parties involved.”

“I am the sitter, not the on being sat upon, thank you very much. A face like this must be admired at all times, and that’s kind of hard to do when someone’s ass is all up in it.”

“DJ, the only thing to ever admire your face, aside from you, is your phone camera.”

“On a good day.” Camila holds up a couple of fries, silently offering them to Normani who declines, but reaches her hand into the bag in search on a moderately clean napkin to wipe the ketchup off the Cuban’s face.

“You’re both so damn rude, I swear. I can’t believe I agreed to live with you two. And I was so nice to you, Mani.”

“Right, because everyone wants to hear that they’re attractive enough to be masturbated to, or to be on a mossy, shit covered bench so people can sit on their face in the least sexual way.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so good.”

“Whatever. Can we watch a movie now, or something? Talking to you for longer than 10 minutes at a time is tiring.”

“I’m down, as long as it isn’t a horror movie, or a psychological thriller.” Camila tosses the balled up paper bag into the garbage by the couch, and grins at the offended look on Dinah’s face.

“Chancho, come cuddle.”

“What? You don’t want me?” Normani asks innocently, pouting playfully at the huffing Polynesian.

“No, you can stay right over there.” Dinah scoffs, then her voice returns to it’s previous demanding whine. “Walz, here. Now.”

“Sorry, Cheech. No Mani, no me.”

The two youngest stare at each other, both waiting for the other’s resolve to crack. Eventually, it’s Dinah who relents. “Fine, both of you get your traitorous asses over here.”

“We love you, Dinah Jane.” Normani announces in a sing-song voice, after her and Camila squish the still mainly unwilling addressee into a hug.

“Now you do. I’m picking the movie, and no arguments.” She yanks the remote out of Normani’s hand and snickers at the simultaneous groan from the bodies on either side of her.

They were midway through the first season of some weird British show Dinah had found when Normani attempted to make conversation again. Turning her head towards them to speak, she discovered they were both already asleep. This wasn’t surprising at all, but gave her the time to review their future living arrangements. 

Lauren was a great person, even though highschool had been a kind of rocky time for her, and, well, she was a lot like Dinah in certain respects. She enjoyed having a good time, and whatever the definition of that may be at the time, partying till all hours of the night or playing charades in her pajamas, and didn’t let anything get in the way of that. Although their recent conversations had gone significantly better than the ones they’d had over the previous few years, she knew a couple of her highschool friends would also be attending, one of the reasons why she was so glad Lauren had reached out to her to share an apartment, since she wanted to keep her away from those people. Lauren’s parents, Mike and Clara, knew of her past troubles, and were more than ecstatic to hear she was talking with Normani again, who was easily their favorite of their daughter’s friends. It was more difficult to convince them about Dinah and Camila, particularly the latter, as they had been stalking Dinah’s social media since Normani had given them her name, and saw she appeared to be just a normal teenager. Everything she said about Camila, on the other hand, seemed to fuel their apprehension towards their eldest living with her. She didn’t know the answers to the questions they were asking, which made them suspicious, so much so, that Mike had offered to pay for the final forth of the rent if she could get Camila to find a way out of the lease. Now, unbeknownst to her roommates, her parents had taken it upon themselves to invite them all over for Christmas day dinner, after she’d mentioned that none of them had any big plans for the holiday season. She knew how protective Lauren’s parents had become, without being controlling, for the most part, and was slightly concerned with extending the invitation. It would look bad if they didn’t show up, like they were really hiding something, but there would be a lot of questions, probably bordering on the invasive side, and Camila didn’t enjoy talking about her personal life, very much unlike Dinah. She’d tried to say that they were unavailable on the day, but Clara pressed that they could both bring their families, which posed another problem. It was time to talk to Ally before she stuck her foot further in her mouth.

-

This is a thing now?

It’s also on Wattpad: RetreatingBackwards