#i need to do laundry and get my blood drawn and ask some questions at the pharmacy

[flamingo--ing]

soo many errands to run but its raaaaainingggg and that makes my joints too loose to safely do much ://

[madamedevien]

Infernal Heat

Hey! It’s been a while - I really miss you guys.  Anyway, I know that a lot of you were keeping up to date with my Mammon x GN! Reader fic...while I’m updating it regularly on my AO3, I thought that I’d post the chapters that I’ve got here as well. I’m planning for it to be a 4 chapter fic, but let’s see how that goes! Warnings in tags (both here and AO3) - monster fucking comes into play much more come Chapter 3 and 4. The biggest thanks to @mawwart for their inspiration and @popcherrypop for reading over what I had all those months ago and actually helping me find direction. I’ve got a bigger/cheesier spiel on AO3, but anyway. Fingers crossed that the ‘Keep Reading’ line shows up here...

Chapter 1: Embers

The Great Mammon had woken up in a mood. He'd felt this creeping up for days now and he wished that it would just come and go already. It was hella distracting to have a constant tug of warmth and want in your gut, y'know? And it was annoying to feel the incessant need to primp and to add to the nest of pillows, blankets, sentimental and decorative items that now overtook most of his bed. But he was due a heat cycle. Annoyingly, he felt that it was probably going to settle in properly on that particular day and he'd been wrangled into going shopping by you. And for whatever reason he'd agreed. Not because he had a crush on you or anything. Damn, he couldn't even remember what you two were meant to be shopping for, that's how addled his mind was. Mammon really just wanted to stay put and perfect his nest. Maybe show it off to you. Although he wasn't sure if you'd appreciate the fact that he'd stolen a few items of yours while on laundry duty to tuck into said nest. Or that he wanted to maybe do something kind of nasty to a piece of your clothing. If not you. 

But would you want to? To see his nest? To lay in it, lay with him, to mate with him? He wanted you to. So very, very badly. He didn’t feel like he deserved you but, oh, to say that he wanted you was a vast understatement. Fuck. 

He groaned and threw one of his tanned arms over his eyes. The silveret realised that he was going to have to partially dislodge his beautiful nest to pull out Goldie (he couldn't go shopping without her - the very thought was offensive!) and that he was going to have to get rid of his raging boner before he faced you. 

So into a cold shower he trudged, loudly cursing the whole time.

---

Longest shopping trip in fucking history. 

It seemed like you were in need of freakin' everything imaginable. He wasn't to know that you were actually just taking your time because it'd been a while since the two of you had some time to yourselves. The demon had been acting strangely around you the past few days, although he was completely oblivious to just how weird it’d been for you.

And today, the Avatar of Greed just wasn't engaging. Questions went unanswered, as if he hadn't heard even when clearly looking at you, no boasting or sulking occurred, no bets or harebrained schemes hatched...he didn't even take you up on your offer of Hell Sauce Noodles! The demon was completely disinterested in all of this - the only thing he was interested in was you. He was also trying very very hard not to let his thoughts slip into anything inappropriate. Which was probably the single most difficult thing he’d had to do in all of his many years. Mammon wanted to take your hand and lace your fingers together; to shamelessly nuzzle your cheek in front of everyone on Silent Avenue. The thought made his heart swell. Better yet, if you were mated, he could kiss you in front of the whole crowd before publicly mounting you and-

Damn, it was hard to keep lewd thoughts at bay. He could feel his cheeks burning and looked away when your concerned expression turned to him. 

On the trek home (finally!), he fell into a lazy pace behind you and Mammon couldn’t help it as you walked together. His cerulean gaze raked over the beautiful curve in your neck - the space was perfect. In his mind, he could see how perfectly his head would fit and how the mark he could leave there would only accentuate the beauty of your skin. It’d be a gorgeous brand that would loudly proclaim to all, ‘I am mated to THE Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and Second of the Seven; don’t you dare even think to touch me’. The very notion only caused the flush of heat over his skin to worsen and his breath to hitch; he wanted to tear into his flesh to relieve himself of the insufferable and fiery itch.

The same thoughts washed over his brain again and again like some cruel tide, even once you'd passed through the doors of the House of Lamentation.

It took only a scant moment. He didn’t even think. The silver haired demon was aware that he was losing his mind due to his damned biology, but he didn’t realise that he was so far gone that he would do something so stupid. It was only your screech that alerted him to the fact that he had pulled you tight to his chest, that he was actually in the process of sinking sharp fangs into your supple skin. The sudden realisation made him tear off of you in surprise. 

Beel had been the first to burst through a doorway and into the corridor. The redhead stopped dead in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at the two of you; you with your hand clamped over the section of your neck that had been bitten, and Mammon an arm’s length away from with a look of abject horror painted over his handsome features. Stupid Mammon, indeed. The next to burst in was Lucifer, who looked ready for a proper melee. The sound that had come from you had genuinely startled the older brother, not that he’d admit that if asked. As his garnet gaze took in the scene before him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mammon…” Lucifer’s voice was dangerously low. Mammon shook his head urgently in response, “Nonono, Luci, it didn’t - I mean, yeah, it is what it looks like an’ I didn’t mean ta, but it...it’s not deep enough. Y’know?” The second brother sounded desperate. Mammon anxiously twisted his rings around his tanned fingers and had to fight back the tears that threatened the edges of his vision. He could have hurt you. “Oh, I think you’ll find that it’s more than deep enough.” Lucifer stalked toward you and put his hand on top of the one you were using to cover your wound. “Let me see how much damage the fool inflicted on you”. Mammon could see the frown that pulled at your mouth as you revealed the bite mark to his brother. No proper damage - the indents might linger, but no blood had been drawn; no skin had been broken. 

“It was more from the surprise than pain, Lucifer. I just wasn’t expecting someone to bite me, you know? That’s the kind of thing that I’d expect more from a very hungry Beel.” Your attempt to lighten the mood only made the Avatar of Pride’s expression sour further - but Beel muttered a small, “Fair”. Lucifer sounded positively glacial when he spoke again. “Beelzebub, please take our brother to his room." The Avatar of Gluttony nodded solemnly, gently taking the second eldest’s shoulder. Mammon stared miserably at the floor, guilt clearly written on his flushed face although he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Not after such a stupid stunt. As the other two made their way up the stairs, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. 

This wouldn’t be pleasant.

--

It was no surprise to Mammon that Lucifer texted him shortly after the whole ordeal. He was just thankful that Lucifer hadn’t decided to come up to his room and literally tear into him after biting you. Of all the people to bite in the entire Devildom, it just had to be you didn’t it? Lucifer: Mammon. I have strictly instructed the household that you are not to be disturbed until I have given the all clear. You will stay in your room and I will bring you provisions at regular intervals. If you need anything, you will let me know. Are we clear? Mammon: Yes. Lucifer: Good. He waited, hopeful that Lucifer would provide an update on you. After an eon of waiting (which was actually all of seven minutes) he decided to ask. Mammon: Are they okay?

Lucifer: They are. And they will continue to be so long as you stay in your room and do not venture out. Ensure that you lock your door and remember to take your pheromone blockers as well or the whole house will reek of your mating scent. What were brothers for, if not a good motivational speech? --- Chapter 2: Flames Even with Lucifer’s reminder, Mammon had forgotten to take the pheromone blockers and to lock the door. He’d been far too distracted; worrying about your state of health, whether he’d damaged your relationship beyond repair, still trying to keep the lewd thoughts at bay, his instincts fretting over the piece of nest that had been dismantled earlier… It was a lot to be preoccupied with, okay? Without the pheromone blockers, the corridor outside of Mammon’s room was thick with the sweet perfume of a demonic male in heat. It was rich and cloying, the kind of scent that would cling to one’s clothes much to the annoyance of the other residents (Asmodeus excluded).  Mammon, however, didn’t care. He was too busy now attempting to cool the heat in the pit of his stomach and to regain some clarity of mind. An attempt at sleep had been made once his nest had been repaired and Goldie tucked into her rightful place, the lights turned down low and his clothes discarded to some far corner so that he could crawl into the nest in a comfortable state...but how could he sleep when obscene images of you kept popping into his head?  At first, he had tried to keep some semblance of his mind. The demon didn’t like to lose control during his heats. If he could keep his mind, he would keep to his more humanoid forms - and that was what he wanted. Because if you did, by chance, happen upon him...well. He didn’t want to scare you. Before he allowed himself to spiral into the anxiety of your imagined reaction, he reached for his ridiculously large bottle of lube. If he was going to dwell on the thought of anything, it was going to be how good he knew you’d feel… --- Mammon wouldn’t have been able to say how much time had passed. He had brought himself to orgasm more times than he could count - but it only seemed to just take off the edge. A demon’s heat was never an easy thing, but why was this time around so damn difficult?  Satan would have been able to answer that with ease, the smug bastard; if a demon chooses a mate they will, naturally, be most inclined to couple with said mate for optimal breeding. To not couple with a chosen mate could make a heat worse - but to withhold coupling at all? Well, it would be a foolish endeavour.  The Avatar of Greed hadn’t realised just how he was slipping ; wings and horns had appeared without him even registering and his fangs had dropped to a predatory length (which he only noticed when he had apparently attempted to put a mating mark on a pillow covered in one of your stolen shirts that he’d been desperately rutting against, much to his embarrassment).  His breathing was rough. Mammon was equal parts exhausted and invigorated. He wanted nothing more than to let his knees fall out from under him so that sleep would hopefully take him - he wanted to stalk down the hall and into your room and fuck you senseless. And if Lucifer found out? Well, Mammon would love to see him try to pry you from his arms.  The very thought made him snarl, his grip on his cock tightening. It was enraging to even think that his brother would dare, a thought that had him so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door click open.  His blue eyes slipped over to you and the wet sound of him furiously fucking his fist stopped abruptly. It was impossible to tell which one of you was redder. This was not what he had been expecting. “Uh-” A rasp of your name interrupted you. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you not to come?” He watched as you nodded dumbly, “Yes”. Heavy breath was the only noise to pass between you several beats. The demon in front of you was wondering whether this was fate; you weren’t running, you looked interested and, fuck, you smelled so good. You smelled aroused and it made him growl; “C’mere then”. The way that you slammed the door and scampered toward him practically had him preening in pleasure. Just as eager, Mammon scrambled over to meet you, flustered yet excited, and hauled you up close to him. He bumped your foreheads together. From here it was easy to see how incredibly blown his pupils were, to feel how desperately ragged his breathing was. You were dangerously close. “Now, see here, I'm gonna give ya one chance to go. ‘Cause if I kiss ya, I’m not gonna be able to stop. I won’t be able to let ya go. You’ll be stuck with me for the whole fuckin’ ride, ya hear?” Holy shit, his voice was so strained. “Then kiss me, you dummy.” No repeat was necessary. Mammon threaded his fingers into your hair, hesitating for only the briefest moment before pressing his lips to yours. When you responded in kind his fervour, his deep rooted greed, quickly followed. He’d wanted to kiss you from day one and not a moment had gone by since  without him imagining it. This felt so incredibly right. But he couldn’t ignore the heat curling in his gut. He needed you, wanted you. And as far as he could tell, despite the dark whispers in the back of his mind saying otherwise, you seemed to feel the same.The way that you returned his greedy kisses, how your fingers had twisted sharply in his hair, how you didn’t seem to mind the messy clicking of his elongated fangs against your blunt teeth as he tried to figure out how best to navigate your mouth in this form - how could he deny that he was wanted?  Mammon's only regret when looking back on this evening with you would be not savouring your body laid bare for him for the first time. His mind was too heat-addled to appreciate it; he was unable to slowly peel off your layers and to have the sentiment returned in kind as he had previously fantasised about. In his mind’s eye, he had a whole big romantic gesture planned if you had decided to sleep with him. Previously, he had imagined how he would make love to you and treasure every moment of it...but alas… Your clothes were quickly stripped from you, sharp fangs nipping at new skin as it was exposed. There was no delicate treatment here and he paid no heed to the sound of torn material. When he next plundered your mouth, it was far smoother than the first time - he was a fast learner, after all.  The only complaint that he had about kissing you was that it muffled those beautiful noises of yours. When he broke the seal of your mouths it was to gently toss you back toward the top of the bed, deeper into his nest and into the comfort of a ridiculous amount of pillows - to properly secure you into his nest. To see you like that felt...good. It felt right. It was clear that was exactly where you belonged. The very image had him growling in satisfaction as he took the opportunity to crawl over your body, his fingers gripping at the meat of your thighs and hips as if ensuring that you were truly there with him. Thankfully, his nails had not yet turned into talons or they would have pierced through you with ease at the way that he handled your flesh.  Mammon had to take a deep breath when he looked at you this time. He needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt you while doing this - it was the last thing in the world that he wanted. It was unusual for the Avatar of Greed to put the needs of others before his own...but you weren’t just some ‘other’. You were you. His very own treasure, his very own mate. Reluctantly, a hand left your body to fish for something buried within the nest. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” He coated his fingers generously in lube, desperate to ensure that he would cause as little pain as possible, “Just fuckin’ perfect”. Two fingers slipped into you as Mammon spoke, his tone low and hoarse. Never had he imagined just how difficult it would be to hold himself back like this, nor could he have been prepared for just how much desire he felt in that moment. The sensation of your hot core wrapped around his fingers had him shamelessly rutting against your thigh, a poor attempt at taking the edge off of his lust.  A human really had no business wrecking him like this. His heat cycles were normally pretty boring - desperate rutting for a day or two and then back to normal life. You had no right to set his skin aflame like this, no right to have him feel like he could cum just from the noise you made once he had three fingers fucking into your heat. The way his blood was rushing in his ears was deafening...and he wanted more. It didn’t take too long for it all to get too much. Even all of the dark hickies that he had furiously littered your neck, chest and shoulders with weren’t enough to distract him from the wet sound of his fingers preparing you or the stunning sounds he managed to pull from you when he got the angle of his hand just right.  Mammon would never admit it, but he kind of missed his target. The point of removing his hand from you had been to slip himself right in. Instead, as he kissed you he rolled his slick cock against your sex...which, to be fair, had felt better than your thigh. And if the sound that you’d made in response was anything to go by, you thought so too.  He liked that noise. A lot. So he rolled his hips against you again, groaning in response to you. Ever eager to please, the greedy demon found a rhythm that you both seemed to enjoy in the interim. “Ya like that, huh?” Mammon wasn’t sure where the cockiness in his tone was coming from when internally he felt so nervous. It was those very nerves that quickly had his hand moving to guide his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you before you could retort. Mammon didn’t realise it would silence both of you.  By no means was he a virgin. The Great Mammon would have it known that he was a proper Casanova type, thank you very much. He just didn’t realise how different it would feel coupling with someone that he truly and deeply loved. The heat causing that deep need to breed the closest thing with a pulse didn’t help things, of course.  It was...incredible, for lack of a better word. Divine. Mammon choked on an Infernal curse once seated completely in you and had to literally bite his tongue to keep an anchor on his self-control.  All of that hard earned control was thrown out the window when his name passed your lips.  There was no hesitation in how his hips pistoned, fucking into you relentlessly. His hands manoeuvred to cradle the back of your knees and he pushed your legs back to allow him more access to your body, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. The noises that left him were snaps and snarls of Infernal praise, not that he realised. The only thought on Mammon’s mind was his primal objective of breeding you until neither of you could move ; it didn’t matter whether you could actually fall pregnant or not. No logic or worry clouded his mind with these thoughts. All he could focus on was filling you with his seed until he couldn’t any more, the thought of your stomach tender and round because of his affections toward his mate... Mammon’s first orgasm came with an embarrassing quickness. When he spilled inside of you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your chest, he was quickly filled with a relief and warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time since his heat had set in, there was true clarity in his mind. While his natural instincts weren’t completely quelled, it was enough for him to actually think with something other than his adamantly pulsing dick. His relief quickly fell to mortification, the shadows of which were clear on his features when he pulled back to look at you. His cheeks were tinted red both from exertion and embarrassment ; he hadn’t paid enough attention to get you to climax. He was quick to stutter out your name, mouth tripping on the words that were trying to get out of his mouth as his sluggishly content brain tried to supply words just beyond reach. “What, isn’t The Great Mammon going to make me cum?” Your sass fanned the flames in his loins. A playful snarl was made in response, “Oh sweetheart. I’m going to make you cum so fuckin’ hard you black out. You won’t be able to feel your legs by the time I’m done with you”. And so The Great Mammon set to work. --- Mammon hummed contentedly as you lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck hours later. This was perfection. Strong fingers stroked your thighs as he enjoyed the sensation of you wrapped around his hips, the pleasure of you sat on his lap while cuddled up together in your nest. The demon toyed with the thought of pushing his hips up just to make you gasp from the overstimulation, but decided against it. Although he was loath to admit it, you needed rest - because Mammon had been good to his word, ensuring that you both had more than your fair share of orgasms.  But this was good. The fire in his gut had died down to crackling embers, although he knew it would flare up again soon - but you would be there to help ease him through it. And you even seemed to like helping him out. What was the phrase… ‘mutually beneficial’? Somethin’ like that. His eyes fluttered open when he heard your chuckle. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew how freakin’ stunning you were when you smiled like that. “What?” When your eyes met his, he was pouting frowning. The laugh that you let out only made his brow furrow more, “I said what. What’s got ya laughin’ like that, huh? You should be out like a freakin’ light by now”. It wasn’t until you replied that he realised how obvious it was, “I didn’t know that demons could purr”. Mammon squawked loudly and attempted to divert your attention - he sounded like a damn motor! It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t even able to control the way he was going off… It was embarrassing. “Well, yeah, y’know, sometimes. We’re incredible ‘n mysterious creatures us demons, y’know! Demons are capable of things that your human mind couldn’t even comprehend! Anyway, ’s not like ’s all the time or anythin’ like that…” He tried to occupy himself and forget about the heat radiating from his face by playing with your hair - but he could feel you smiling against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” The incredible and mysterious demon sounded more like a petulant child (well, a purring and petulant child). “So, when do you normally purr?” “I dunno. When we’re happy, I guess?” “Does that mean I haven’t made you happy before?” The way that he spluttered was definitely worth teasing him. “Who said that ya haven’t made me happy?! ‘N besides, this is different!” Even Mammon couldn’t deny that he was now pouting, but he tried to focus on the feeling of your fingers running along his shoulders. It was nice; soothing, even. Until he felt a sharp tug on the back of his neck.  “Ouch! You gotta be more gentle than that!” The look of surprise on your face made him want to curl in on himself. “Mammon - are those feathers?” “Phffft,” The greedy demon rolled his eyes and tried to deflect your query, “Shaddap. You dunno what you’re talking ‘bout”.  When your mouth opened again, he did take the opportunity to thrust sharply into you. At the gasp, he lurched forward with a passionate kiss. Simply to shut you up, of course. No hidden agenda. His pleased purring melted into a deep rumbling, the fire in his belly stoking itself back to life. It was impossible for him not to roll you over to allow him to bask in more of your shared passion. The laughter that ensued, laughter that he was sure was aimed at him, only made his heart swell as much as his cock.

[cherryonigiri]

nanami kento [evenings with you]

nanami kento x reader || cw: descriptions of blood/injuries, light angst

a/n: this is just self-indulgent writing for me but i'm v stressed about school rn and this is the result. just imagine that y/n is a bio/medical phd candidate lol.

Nanami can tell that you're stressed. Usually you savor the nights he's not on overtime, asking him about work and refusing to leave his side for most of the evening. He's used to you being attentive, so the fact that you've asked him the same question twice within the last ten minutes is already setting alarm bells ringing in his head. You're constantly fiddling with something, or flashing furtive glances towards the bedroom when you think he's not paying attention.

It only gets worse after dinner. You insist on washing up, something about how you want him to 'enjoy his night off.' Nanami compromises, silently grabbing a towel and drying the dishes. It's clear that your mind is elsewhere. Your hands scrub the porcelain on autopilot, and he can hear you muttering under your breath.

Every now and then you'll mutter a list of tasks under your breath. Nanami remembers you mentioning that things were hectic in lab. You're almost always still working when gets home from work, even when it's well past when you eat your dinner. It's clear that you've had a busy day-- the apartment is far more cluttered than it usually is. There are post-it and pieces of scrap paper stuck to every single surface, and a forgotten pile of folded laundry rests on the couch.

An intense burning sensation across your palm causes you cry out. "Shit!" You drop the knife you were washing in favor of cradling your already bleeding hand. Nanami is instantly by your side, firmly pressing the dishcloth against your cut. There is a worrying amount of red seeping into the fabric, so he silently ushers you to the bathroom.

It's a strange reversal of roles. He's used to being the one leaning leaning against the counter while you bandage his wounds. Instead, it's you who is perched on the marble surface, wincing as he dabs an antiseptic soaked cotton ball against your injury. "Sorry, I'm almost done," he says when you let out a loud hiss.

"It's fine," you reply, sheepishly looking away. "I should have been paying more attention."

Nanami chooses to only respond with a nonchalant hum, focusing on cleaning your palm. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he applies ointment to the cut, adding gauze once he's finished. It's only when he reaches for the bandages that he decides to ask. "What's stressing you out?"

Your eyes widen as you realize you've been caught. Nanami is rarely home early these days, especially since he's been mentoring Itadori on behalf of Gojo. (Not that you mind - in the few times you've met Itadori through video call with Nanami, the pink-haired student's sunny disposition has never failed to cheer you up.) When he'd texted you saying he'd be home by dinner, you'd jumped at the opportunity to spend some much needed time with him. You'd pulled out the stops, cooking something a little fancier, and intent on spending the earlier part of the evening cuddling with him. Secretly, you had planned to sneak out of bed after he'd fallen asleep (he always goes to bed early on days like these) and finish preparing for the gauntlet of meetings and presentations you had tomorrow. It was your fault for putting off the tasks, and you didn't want to let your own bad habits get in the way of some quality time with your boyfriend.

"It's nothing, I just have a lot on my plate tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off, but quickly trail off once when you catch Nanami's deadpan expression. He's always been too good at seeing through your white lies. "I put off some work..." A raised eyebrow from him prompts you to continue, "And I was planning on doing it after you went to bed..." You can't help it when your face scrunches into a pout. After all, now your carefully-laid deception has been revealed.

When Nanami bursts into amused chuckles, you're momentarily surprised, but quickly go back to sulking. "Stop laughing at me Ken!" you whine, "I'm a--"

"Self-aware procrastinator," he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. "I know love, I know. I've seen you write far too many papers within 24-hours of a deadline to be surprised." He presses an affectionate kiss against your wrist.

You scowl at your boyfriend, snatching your bandaged hand away from his grasp. "I'm glad that my suffering is entertaining for at least one person." You stomp back to the bedroom in faux-anger, smiling when you hear Nanami's footsteps not far behind you.

When he steps into the bedroom Nanami drapes his frame over your shoulders, his warm torso nestled against your back. "It is one of your more...endearing traits," he murmurs into your ear before pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. You can feel your cheeks and ears tingle at his words of affection.

"Sometimes you can be such a sweet talker," you mumble to yourself while you change into your pajamas. This week it's been an old Jujutsu tech hoodie and a pair of well-worn athletic shorts.

"Only for you," Nanami replies while he undoes the buttons of his outfit, chucking his tan pants and blue button up into the laundry basket in the corner. He dons a pair of sweatpants before returning your side to recapture you in another affectionate hug. It's a well kept secret of the Kento-Y/N household that Nanami Kento likes to lounge around shirtless in the privacy of his apartment. (You've been sworn to secrecy, but only because your boyfriend claims that Gojo and the students would have a field day teasing him if this information were to be made public amongst the jujutsu sorcerer community.)

Turning around, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your nose against his torso and taking in his comforting scent. It's been so long since the two of you have had a moment to yourselves, and for once your hectic thoughts are silenced in favor of sharing a moment of calm bliss with Nanami. He hums in appreciation, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.

"Do you want to watch anything tonight?" you ask after a few seconds of silence.

"No," he replies. "I was actually planning on reading the briefing Ichiji just sent me. Gojo apparently has another scheme up his sleeve." You giggle when your boyfriend lets out a pained sigh. On more than one occasion, your boyfriend has ranted to you about Gojo's unorthodox approach to exorcism. "I swear that idiot shaves a year off my lifespan every time I go on a mission with him," Nanami complains. "He's taking away the years I could spend in Malaysia."

You hum thoughtfully before responding, "Then do you mind--"

Once again, Nanami already knows what you're going to say. "Just remember to bring your laptop charger, I know you have a thousand tabs open on your computer right now," he says while exiting to the living room. After a few moments you join him, overburdened laptop and charger in hand. You both take your usual spots in the living room, him resting comfortably in the center of the loveseat and you sitting on a floor cushion, nestled between his legs. Soon you've fallen into a groove, fingers steadily typing on the keyboard. The warmth of Nanami's presence next to you brings a sense of calm, giving you the grounding focus you need to finish off the last of your tasks.

As he thumbs through the printouts Ichiji gave him, Nanami can't help but let his eyes drift towards you every now and then. You look so adorable when you work. From the way your brow furrows whenever you reread a line, to the way you unconsciously chew on your lip when you scrutinize your draft for any errors. Every now and then he'll gently run his fingers through your hair, relishing the content sighs you let out in response.

It only takes about another hour before you're (finally) closing all your tabs (he still doesn't know why your laptop hasn't crashed yet). As you scroll through social media, your head begins to droop. Soon enough you've fallen asleep, breaths coming in soft and even puffs as you rest against his thigh. Smiling to himself, he puts down his papers and gently lifts your body from the floor. He's careful not to wake you as he slowly makes his way back to the bedroom.

Setting you on the bed, he tucks you under the blankets before lying beside you. The moonlight coming through your window softly illuminates your relaxed features, and he softly traces the outline of your face with his thumb. As he continues to caress your cheek, his eyes are drawn to the dark circles under your eyes. He rarely falls asleep after you these days - between his physically demanding occupation and the ever growing number of things you are responsible for at work- he's often the first to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion while you work well into the night. Not to mention that he's had to spend an increasing number of nights away from you, either on challenging missions or accompanying Gojo's students. And while he knows most of your stress comes from being a student, he can't help but feel guilty about all the additional distress his status as a jujutsu sorcerer has caused you.

When you started dating him, you insisted that Shoko teach you how to suture. He hates how much your stitches have improved since then. The neatness of your stitches is a constant reminder of how much you've endured because of him. When he hears you trying to muffle your sobs into a pillow, he swears he can feel his heart crack in his chest, hurting more than any kind of physical wound from battle. Those nights end with him holding you tightly to his bandaged chest, murmuring reassurances and affection into the crown of your head until you've calmed down enough to fall into a fitful sleep. Even when you're unconscious he'll still continue, words morphing into apologies for the sadness he's inflicted upon your shoulders.

Feeling his eyelids being to droop, Nanami presses one last kiss against your forehead before laying down. He wraps his arms around your waist, surrounding you with warmth, hoping that his presence will be enough to keep your nightmares away, at least for tonight. I love you, y/n is the last thought he has before he drifts away, ready to dream of a tropical sunset and a peaceful future with you by his side.

[bokettochild]

If you’re still taking requests maybe Legend showing off his outfits from Triforce Heroes (if you consider that one of his games) or just the fierce deity outfit if that’s to much

Good grief! This one really took it away! I liked the prompt so much, and had so many ideas for it, that I think this might have to be a multi-parter (wasn't expecting that).

I touched on three outfits in this one, but I have six more I might do as well. For reference, I included the Kolkiri Clothes, Linebeck's Uniform and the Cozy Parka.

I also realized while writing this that this is the first time I've written from Wind's perspective, which is positively criminal!

I am still taking requests by the way! If you want to see something, shoot it at me!

(Fic below the cut)

It started so normal, Wind never thought it would get so insane.

They were in the Old Man’s Hyrule, too far from the ranch to make it by nightfall but close enough to still be in a relatively safe location. Time had called for them to set up camp and as they were close to a stream, Twilight had called for the additional order of baths.

Watching Twilight drag his protégé into the water was almost worth having to have his head scrubbed by Sky.

Most of them had taken the chance to cool off and mess around once they were clean, and while Warriors attempted to duck Time under the water (a mistake, they soon realized, when the man easily overpowered the captain, who ended up getting dunked instead) and Wild sat in a tree watching their backs (hanging up to dry, Twilight had joked), Wind found that the rest of them were content to swim idly in the water, with only the occasional splash from one or another of them. Usually, there would be more noise, but Twilight was teaching Hyrule to doggie paddle, and they needed calmer waters so as to not scare the Traveler.

He cast his eyes over their group. A red-faced Warriors was coughing and spluttering out insults at a smug looking Time (boy he needed his picto-box), Twilight was gently coaxing Hyrule to the other bank in a manner highly resemblant of a parent urging a baby to walk, Wild was keeping watch, and Sky was relaxing in the shallows.

Where were Four and Legend?

A glance upwards and a signed conversation with Wild later and Wind was making his way upstream a way, around a bend that blocked off most of the noise but that Wild could still see over if needed, to where Four and Legend sat together one the bank.

Or rather, Legend sat, Four was floating in the shallows with a curious expression as he watched the vet- cleaning clothes?

“We’re out here having a good time and you’re doing the laundry? Boring much.” He drawled, drawing the attention of the two heroes.

“I don’t like swimming around others.” Legend scrunched up his nose in disgust, it wiggled, almost cutely. “And my things needed a wash.”

He snorted, turning his questioning gaze to Four.

The smithy shrugged. “It’s quieter over here, and Wars will try and dunk me if he gets the chance.” A heavy sigh escaped the shortest hero. “He really needs to be taken down a notch some days.”

“Some days?” Legend snorted.

Wind just rolled his eyes. So, what if Wars had a bit of an ego and spent a lot of time messing with them? It was just the way the captain expressed himself, Wind would do the same if he could get away with it and had a few inches on the others.

A flash of color in the spring caught his attention, bright pink against the soft blue of the water, and he surged forwards. “What’s that?”

Legend’s hand hit his face as the vet reached out to push him back, effectively pushing the excited child under water, and for a brief moment, Wind could swear he saw a pink skirt drifting just before his face before it disappeared and he was popping up out of the water again with a splash.

“You have pink clothes?” He grinned at the bundle of fabric in the Vet’s hands.

“I have clothes in all colors.” Legend sniffed, batting another piece of fabric at him in a shooing motion.

“Doubt.” Four and Wind deadpanned. “Nobody has that much clothing.”

Legend’s face was drawn, eyes dark with that haunted look that Time sometimes got when looking at the moon. “I do.”

Wind and Four exchanged a look. “Why would you even need so much clothing?”

“Adventure number six.” Legend sighed, returning to his washing.

Another shared glance was exchanged and the two boys swam closer to the older teen. “And you used all of it?” Legend nodded. “All by yourself?”

The vet paused. “I had some...friends, with me.”

“You have friends?” Wind sat up again, who knew the Vet actually got along with people other than Ravio and Zelda?

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, Wind, that’s kinda mean.” Four murmured.

“I don’t mean you don’t have friends,” He huffed bangs from his eyes to look at Legend better, it did nothing, they still drifted into his view and cut off his view of the top of Legend’s hat. “I mean, we’ve never seen them so I didn’t realize you were on good terms with more people than Ravio.”

Legend shrugged. “You probably won’t ever meet them, I... became acquainted with them outside of Hyrule and they’ve never been seen leaving the land where we traveled together.”

“What were their names?” Four asked lazily, eyes trailing after leaves that floated off downstream towards where the others were.

Legend’s snort caught them off guard. “You don’t want to know.”

Now that was interesting, Legend never shied away from giving names to the people he had met in his travels, what was so different about these people? He’d had nothing against telling them Ravio’s name. “Why not?” Curiosity was tickling at his just like his hair was, and it was the only thing keeping him from ducking under again to relieve the itching of slowly-drying hair.

Legend cocked a brow at the two of them. “Their names are worse than ours.”

Now Wind really wanted to know! “What were they?”

Four echoed his question, eyes glinting in the light as he stared over at the vet, who was now beginning to pack away his things again. It took some nagging (something Wind had plenty of experience with) to finally get Legend to answer, but when he did, he didn’t disappoint.

“Red, Blue and Green. A set of nut cases if you ask me.” Legend drawled, not looking at them as he stuffed something glittery and gold in his bag. Four froze, eyes flashing four colors, one after another for a moment before he turned his sharp gaze on the vet.

“Did they call you Vio by any chance?”

Wind stared. “Why would they do that? He already has a name, he wouldn’t need to match, besides, Legend doesn’t even wear purple.”

“His eyes are purple.” Four pointed out, and Wind turned to very pointedly try and see what color Legend’s eyes actually were.

They were purple.

“No, they didn’t call me Vio,” Legend rolled his eyes, pushing Wind out of his face again. “They call me Link, same as any sane person does.”

“We’re sane.” Wind protested.

“Debatable.” The two older heroes deadpanned.

Wind pouted, but let it go, gaze drifting for a moment as he let silence fall over them. Four was staring at Legend in a suspicious manner, eyes blue again, but he didn’t say anything, and the vet didn’t seem keen on saying anything either, instead getting up and walking over to the clothes he had draped across one of the trees. He wasn’t kidding, it looked like a rainbow over there.

“So, if those things belonged to your friends, why do you have them?”

“Only one with a bottomless bag.” Came the clipped reply. “That and I’m the only one who’s likely to need them again.”

“Your friends don’t need clothes?” Four balked.

“No! Of course, they do!” Legend made a face, swatting a hand at Four. “Wild’s the only one who goes around naked, I’ll have you know, and if any of them had done the same they would have been shunned by the whole kingdom.” The vet huffed, voice dropping to a mutter. “What with the fashion laws and all.”

“So, if they already have clothes of their own, what did you need all for this for?” He gestured towards the various garments that Legend was still packing away.

“They’re all enchanted, or otherwise intended for special purposes.” The vet winced. “Hopefully I’ll never need most of them again, but there’s always the chance.”

“Will we ever get to see them?” He watched as Legend stuffed another garment into one of his bags many pockets.

“Hopefully never.” Legend spat.

But when did things ever go Legend’s way?

It was a hat first.

A battle in the forest ended with black blood spattered everywhere, but with Legend and Wild having provided support from the sidelines in the form of arrows flying across the battlefield, injuries were more scarce than normal.

Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that there had only been a few of the black-blooded monsters in the camp they had just destroyed.

As most of them had gathered their weapons and wiped away the blood, Wild had come leaping down from the treetops with Legend following after at a more sedate pace. Wind wondered if that was because of the Vet’s arthritis is because of the huge hat on his head.

“Nice accessories, do some shopping while we were down here fighting?” Wars snarked, huffing a laugh at the vet as Legend’s feet touched the earth again.

Indigo blue snapped at the captain as Legend adjusted the pointed cap. “No time for that when I have you all to keep an eye on.”

Twilight sniggered. “What’s with the hat, Ledge?”

“Yeah!” Wind bounded up to the older hero, eyes wide as he looked at the strange accessory. “Where did you get that?”

“Is that one of the things you got on your last adventure?” Four mused, sparking further excitement in the sailor, if it was, than maybe Legend would actually be willing to tell them more about it!

“Yeah, is it?”

No one addressed the confused stares of the taller heroes as their three shortest members conversed.

“Yeah,” Legend lifted the hat off and brushed at its brim in a clearly fond display; if he even attempted to say anything about hating his adventure again Wind was not going to believe him, not after that smile. “A Kolkiri hat, made to aid archers and help them shoot more arrows. I don’t usually use it, but it helps when you need to take out more than one enemy at once.”

“You could just learn to shoot better.” Wild chuckled, plucking at the hats brim only to have the garment whisked out of reach by a glaring veteran.

“I can shoot well; this just helps me see better because it blocks the freaking sun.”

“Kolkiri you say?” Time mused, stepping forwards to peer at the pointed green cap.

“Sure, you didn’t just steal it off of a witch?” Wars teased.

“No witch could replicate this sort of quality,” And if there wasn’t pride in his voice than Wind would eat his boots. “Not even the finest tailors in all of Hytopia could imitate it, and they’ve tried.” Legend spun the hat in his hands before popping it back on top of his head. “Don’t know the tailor, but what I wouldn’t give to learn their tricks. Kolkiri know what they’re doing, and they do it better than most Hylian craftsmen.”

Time was smirking, and Wind really wanted to know why. “You should see the tunics they can make.”

Legend returned the smirk. “Oh, I have, I own one.”

“As do I,” Their resident old man chuckles. “Although I doubt I could fit in it any longer.”

Wind giggles, trying to imagine Time in the clothes he’s seen on the spirits of the kolkiri, it’s hard, what with how big their leader is.

“Hat might fit you though.” And as the words ring through the air, Legend is already reaching up to pull the brim of his pointed hat over Time’s face. Their leader chuckles, brushing Legend off and adjusting the hat to sit more securely on his head.

Somehow, Time looks more comfortable in the hat than he does in his armor, and even though the two clash terribly, he doesn’t seem to mind, a light smile gracing his features as they set off again.

It’s a few days before Legend brings out another item from his collection of clothes, and when he does, it’s only after the others have drifted off to sleep. Wind would have been sleeping too, but you can only stay awake so long when your mind replays the horrors of the past, and Wind can only watch in silence for so long as giant ocean-monsters attempt to destroy those he loves the most. Tetra’s scream echoes in his own cracking voice as he startles awake.

The stars shine brightly overhead, brighter still as they blur from his tears. Despite what the others might say, or the confident way he tries to convey himself, Bellum frightens him, even now, and everything he had to deal with on that adventure... it weighs heavy on his mind.

A strangles sob escapes him as he sits up to bury his head in his knees, arms wrapped tight around his legs as he tries to shake of the after-effects of the dream.

That’s all it was, after all, just a dream.

Just like the Ocean King, like Lineback, like everything else in that world had been.

It’s just a dream.

“Hey,” Legend’s voice is soft and almost lost in his sobs and the crackling of the fire, but Wind is used to listening for even the softest of sounds in the night; be it due to Aryl having a night-terror –her own dreams aren’t free from their adventure- or someone sneaking around to make trouble. “Sailor, you all good?”

It’s clear he’s not, and he knows that, so Legend really has no business asking, but at the very least he isn’t being told to stop being a baby. “’m okay.” His own voice betrays him and Wind wants to sigh in irritation. Usually, he’d pout and groan at the way his voice cracks, but right now he doesn’t have the emotional or mental strength to do anything about it.

There’s shifting from across the camp, and even though his head is still pressed against his raised knees, he sees a flicker of golden pink in the firelight as Legend crouches down before him.

Thank Hylia the vet doesn’t sit back on his ankles, Wind doesn’t want to know if he’s not wearing shorts under that skirt of his.

“None of that now, what’s eating you?” It’s a weird term, especially coming from Legend, who’s usually so clipped and professional in his speech, and Wind can’t help but huff out a short laugh.

“Nothing,” His hand dashes across his eyes, wiping the tears away, only to have more of them prick at the corners. “Go back to watch, I’m fine.”

“And Twilight is a dog person.” Legend drawls. “Look, if you have an emotional moment or whatever, you’ll be tired as shit when we have to leave in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel keen on dealing with another Sky.” It’s rough and gruff, but in a way that reminds him of Lineback rather than make him upset.

“I’m fine, just...” He dwells on his next words for a moment. He’s not scared, not really. It’s just the aftershock of a too-real dream about another too-real dream. He’s not really sad either, even if the island is gone now, he’s just... “I’m drained.” He whispers, scrubbing his eyes. “I miss everything back at home but,” He pauses, wondering briefly if Legend could even understand what he’s trying to express. “I guess I miss the things that aren’t there too.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t look up, but he knows the exact expression on Legend’s face; brow raised and mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown.

“Places... people. It’s all just dreams but..” He fiddles with the end of his blanket. “I miss the warmth of them I guess, miss the sea and the islands, even the fake ones, they were so... comforting.” He chuckles, surprising himself with the bitterness that tinges his own voice. “Even if I did spend so much of that time trying not to get killed.”

“Warmth, huh?” Legend hums. There’s a brief pause, one Wind almost takes for Legend rolling his eyes and deciding to leave him to his thoughts, but then there’s a brief rustling and something warm and thick settles over his shoulders as Legend sits at his side. “It’s no pirate uniform, but it still smells like the sea, if that helps at all.”

Wind wants to tease Legend for the sentimentality and love in the action, but when he turns to look at the Vet, his gaze falls instead on the royal blue coat that has been draped around his shoulders.

Too-long sleeves fall to fold at his waist while the rest of the long coat trails and puddles around him, rich, warm fabric blocking out the night chill. It’s a lovely coat, but it’s painfully familiar, and Wind finds himself running his fingers over the stitching and inspecting every detail with a precision that he only ever shows to his swordsmanship and sailing.

His eyes don’t fool him either, the coat is an exact copy of Lineback’s own.

“Where... where did you get this?”

“Like it?” The vet chuckles softly. “Hytopian tailors. It’s a sea-coat, made to aid traveling sailor’s in searching for treasure. Don't ask me how it works though,” A ringed hand waves lazily overhead. “I could never make sense of it all. What matters is that it’s warm, not even the ocean can chill you in that thing, and trust me,” Buck teeth and small canines shouldn’t look so chilling, but Legend’s smile is just that. “It’s tried.”

Wind decides not to push it. There’s no way Legend could know about Lineback, not with the gaps of time and timelines between them. So, instead, he nestles down into the coat, one which bears the promised scent of the sea, with just a hint of smoke and rum to it, and lets his mind drift off again while Legend hums something under his breath.

The vet doesn’t realize he’s humming any less than he realizes Wind is slumping into him, but by the time he does recognize it, Wind is out cold, his head pressed against Legend’s shoulder, the coat still draped over him as he snores softly. Legend doesn’t push down the warmth in his chest as he smiles down at the golden curls, no one will see him anyway. Gnarled fingers decked out with countless rings card through sun-bleached curls as a lilting melody pierces the silence around them, no one will hear it anyway.

In the days to come, Legend allows Wind to don the heavy sea-coat from that night. Warriors makes a comment about poor coordination between fabrics, and while Legend doesn’t seem to disagree, both of the older heroes seem of the opinion that it's for the best he holds onto it, what with the cold and all.

The last switch landed them in the mountains, and while the Hyrule they are in has not yet been confirmed, everyone knows one thing for sure: it’s cold. Wind buries his face in the raised collar of the heavy sea-coat, which, despite being in Legend’s bag for so long and the vet refusing to smoke or sail, much less swig rum, the coat smells of all three, and Wind buries a smile at the thought that maybe Legend didn’t get it new like he’d let on.

It does a good job of keeping him warm though.

He wishes he could say the same for Four.

The poor smithy refuses to be carried, but as snow whips around them as they trek through the knee-high snow, the diminutive smith is left chattering and shivering in their wake.

It really shouldn’t be a surprise that Legend has something to help with that.

Yes, the vet still isn’t wearing pants, but he doesn’t seem too poorly off, no matter how badly the others shiver. He and Wild only share a look and scoff when Warriors asks through chattering teeth how the two of them aren’t freezing.

“You should see the mountains in my Hyrule.” Wild chuckles brightly.

“Done this before, cold is cold, you get used to it.” Legend grins, swinging his fire-rod.

“N-not all of us c-can s-st-stand the c-c-cold.” Four chatters grumpily, sounding startlingly close to the minish he’s shown Wind in the past. “Jer-jerks.”

The concern on the faces of the taller heroes is obvious, but with Twilight’s teeth chattering nearly madly (the rancher's nose is somehow frozen) and Time wrapped as tight as possible in one of Wild’s extra cloaks, it’s clear most of the others don’t have warm things to spare.

They were separated in landing in this world, and even when they had all been pulling themselves together again it had become clear that there was nothing of Wild’s that could even fit the smithy, and not even the blue scarf that trails over his shoulders seems to be doing much good against the freezing winds.

“Hang on a sec.” legend huffs, already turning to rustle through his bag. The coat he pulls out is ridiculously plushy, and in a soft shade of violet that makes Four chuckle past his chattering teeth. The chattering doesn’t last for much longer though, not when shoves the garment over Four’s head like Wind has done to his sister so many times with the sweaters Granny has knit them. The smithy’s blond hair is mused beyond recognition, chunky and flying every which way as he pushes his face out of the plush, but the healthy flush to his cheeks assures the rest of them that he won’t be freezing any time soon.

“I- Oh...” Whatever Four was about to say cuts off as he looks down at himself. The coat is long, but not too long. Where Wild’s shirts would drown the smithy, a coat made for Legend only brushes against the smithy’s ankles.

Legend smirks. “It prevents slipping too.”

“Why aren’t you wearing it then?” Hyrule questions, the Traveler’s cheeks are rosy in the cold, but borrowed clothes from Wild, while also too big, seem to be keeping him warmer.

Legend winces. “It’s a pain to get off.”

“And inconvenience is enough reason to freeze?”

“Do I look cold to you, captain?” Legend snarks, turning an expectant look on Warriors. “Because I certainly don’t feel it.”

“Stop rubbing it in.” The captain huffs, unfortunately too big to borrow from the others, and now highly irritable from the cold. His scarf is still on Four, and if what Legend says is right about the coat, Wars won’t be getting it back for a while, leaving the poor captain to shiver as he clings to another fire-rod.

Four seems comfy enough anyway.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

[iamwhoami]

Are You With Me (Grey’s Anatomy)

Grey’s Anatomy

   When Y/N unexpectedly find out that she’s expecting, she suddenly finds herself having to figure out how to tell Jackson.

Warnings: Pregnancy???

Requested = Yes

“No...no, please no,” You whispered quietly as you stared at the stick in your hand.

   You were starting to lose hope that the first one you took was a false positive.

   It had all started a few weeks ago actually when you missed your period. That didn’t really alarm you since you were never regular and plus with all the stress that was on you right now, you figured that those were just the reasons. 

   Then, you started getting sick. Feeling nauseous, throwing up...all that fun stuff. 

But only in the morning. 

   Even then, you kept brushing it off, telling yourself that you had probably caught a stomach bug from a patient.

   It was the one and only Arizona Robbins that forced you to grab a pregnancy test (or two) from the pharmacy.

   So now here you were, locked in the bathroom in your apartment with three positive pregnancy tests. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

   You and Jackson hadn’t even started talking about kids and now you had to tell him you weren’t just thinking about having kids in the future, you were having one now.

This couldn’t be happening.

   You were deep in your swirling thoughts when your phone suddenly went off and you looked over to see a text message from Jackson.

Hey, do you wanna come over? I’ve made dinner for two...

   Did you? Not really. But at some point you’d have to tell him right? You quickly texted him back saying that you were leaving now

   Sighing, you decided to shove one of the pregnancy tests into your purse along with your phone before grabbing your coat and heading over to Jackson’s.

~~~

“Hey!” Jackson’s smiling face greeted you as he opened the door. “Come in!”

   You walked in and shook off your coat before hanging it up. Usually, it felt more casual but today you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

“I made fettuccine alfredo,” Jackson said, not noticing your tense body language, “Do you want some?”

   You swallowed, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

   You took a seat on one of the bar stools at the island and Jackson soon placed a plate filled with a generous amount of pasta on it. He then helped himself to a plate and took a seat on one of the stools next to you.

   Normally, you would have finished the pasta in seconds, but your stomach was too nervous to have any sort of appetite so the best you could do was a few bites before you ended up playing with the food on your plate.

“Is everything okay?” Jackson asked, now noticing your strange behaviour. 

   This might have been a good time to tell him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Yeah, just a long day you know,” You replied, not completely lying. 

   It had been a long day but that wasn’t why you were acting different. 

   Jackson nodded, “It was a long day, do you want something to drink? Wine?”

“No,” You quickly declined, earning a strange look from Jackson. 

You had to think quickly to prevent any suspicions. 

“I think maybe I caught a bug or something from someone,” You explained, “I don’t think wine’ll make me feel any better.”

   Jackson nodded and for now, it looked like you were able to steer clear of the topic. 

   The rest of the dinner, you and Jackson talked about all the patients the two of you treated earlier in the day. By time he had finished, you had still barely touched your plate. 

   You knew he was concerned about that but he didn’t ask about it, much to your relief. 

   Before he could invite you to stay over, to quickly came up with a lame excuse about forgetting to your laundry in one of the machines in the apartment laundry room and thanked him for dinner.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” You told him.

   Jackson nodded, “Yeah, see you.”

~~~

   Okay, you were going to admit it. You were avoiding Jackson and there was no way around that.

   He had texted you last night once you got home and when you didn’t reply, he had called you multiple times though every time you just let the phone ring until it stopped by itself.

   When you had gotten to the hospital the next morning for your shift, you spotted Jackson talking to a nurse at the front desk and made a quick beeline for the hall that lead in the opposite direction. 

   While Jackson had specialized in Plastics, you specialized in Peds after realizing that there was just something special about working with kids. 

“Hey! Look who made it!” Arizona greeted you as she watched you start to go through the charts of the patients you had to see today.

   You sighed, “Yeah, I made it all right.”

“So what did the test say?” Arizona pried. 

   You knew what she was talking about but you played dumb anyway.

“What test?”

“You know what I mean,” Arizona said and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your eyes that were now slowly filling with tears on the charts.

   Arizona noticed your tears and quickly placed a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t need to say anything for her to know your answer to her previous question. 

“Have you told Jackson yet?” She asked you softly.

   You shook your head, “I was going to last night, he invited me over to dinner, but I chickened out.”

“You should tell him,” Arizona told you, “The sooner he knows, the better.”

“I know, I know,” You said, “And it’s not like I don’t want to tell him because I do. I want him to know.”

   Arizona nodded understandingly, “But you’re scared.”

   You scoffed, “More like terrified. I’m pretty much dropping a bombshell on him.”

“Well, my advice would be to just tell him,” Arizona said, “Get it over with.”

Both of you knew though that it was much easier said than done. 

“Yeah...okay,” You took a deep breath, “After shift, I’ll tell him, but right now, I have to check on Tracy Jenkins. It looks like she took a turn for the worst overnight.”

“Okay, yes, good luck!” Arizona told you before you hurried off.

~~~

   After a very long, exhausting, and horrible shift, you collapsed on one of the beds in the on call room. 

Today had been an awful day.

   Tracy Jenkins ended up coding and you weren’t able to restart her heart. She was eight years old. 

It wasn’t just Tracy though.

   Little Billy, born premature five days ago, had caught an infection and was now in critical condition. 

   Sixteen year old Molly Thompson was walking home from school when she was hit by a car. The driver was drunk. 

   She was still alive, but she was currently facing the possibility of paralysis while everyone waited for her to wake up from surgery.  

   You heard the door open before Jackson’s face suddenly loomed over you. 

“Long day huh,” He commented as he took a seat next to you.

“More like a rough day,” You groaned.

“Yeah...same,” Jackson sighed and you sat up.

   You were exhausted and felt like crap but you had said you were going to tell Jackson the news after shift and you didn’t plan on chickening out this time so...

“We need to talk,” Jackson said before you could say anything though.

   You nodded, “You’re right. We do.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Jackson kept going, “I keep racking my brain for anything I could have done but I can’t think of anything-”

“Jackson, stop,” You cut him off, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong Y/N because you know I know something’s wrong,” Jackson raised his eyebrows. 

   You took a deep breath, “Jackson, I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“You’re...” Jackson’s voice faltered.

   You nodded, “I’m pregnant.”

“Okay...well...” Jackson seemed to be at a lost of words, “Maybe it was a false positive?”

“Maybe,” You bit your lip, “But I took three and they were all positive so unless I got three false positives...”

“Which is very unlikely,” Jackson said.

   You swallowed, “Yes. Which is very unlikely, but, I haven’t actually gotten any blood drawn or anything.”

More silence.

“Jackson, I need you to say something,” You finally told him, “I need you to say how you feel about this.”

“I mean,” Jackson put his hand on his head, “You just told me you were pregnant, I’m still comprehending things.”

   You sighed, “I’ll put it differently then. Are you with me or not?”

“Of course I’m with you,” Jackson quickly took his hand off his head and placed it on your hand instead, “I’m not leaving you, not now, not when you need me the most.”

   At those words, you burst into tears, not able to keep your composure any longer. 

“Hey...hey,” Jackson said softly as he scooted closer towards you, “It’s okay. We’ll figure things out.”

“I was going to tell you last night,” You spoke between your sobs, “But I got cold feet. I’m sorry.”

   Jackson wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you told me.”

“I was scared,” You admitted, “I’m still scared.”

“You know what? So am I,” Jackson whispered, “But we’re gonna take this one day at a time. Together.”

You nodded and buried your face into his chest. 

“Does anybody else know?” Jackson asked you as he started stroking your hair. 

   You nodded again, “Only Arizona. She was the one who told me I should take a pregnancy test.”

“I think we should talk to her again,” Jackson said, “Get some blood drawn to see if those tests were right and then if they were, get an ultrasound done. You know, to check on our little bean.”

   You smiled, “Our little bean?”

“Well, little bean probably does exist so they need some sort of name,” Jackson explained, blushing a little. 

“Okay well...we’ll do what you just said in a little bit,” You agreed, “But I just need a moment with you.”

   Jackson opened his mouth to say something but before he got the chance, your pager went off and you quickly picked it up.

“Molly Thompson’s waking up,” You said and started getting up, “I need to be there.”

“Yeah of course,” Jackson replied, “I’ll meet you on the OB floor then when you’re done.”

   You nodded, “Sounds good.”

   You left the on call room feeling as if all the weight had just been lifted off your shoulders and you could now breathe again.

Everything was going to be okay.

[sukifans]

HELP ME // sokka

WARNINGS: language, a Bug

WC: 3.3k

A/N: a little somethin somethin for @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! i had a lot of fun doing this drabble. i used 2 (“please help me”) and 8 (“i thought you loved me”) for this bad boy that definitely got away from me lmao

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Panic surged through Sokka when he checked his phone and saw he had about twenty missed calls from you over the past ten minutes. Just as he was about to call back, your contact photo popped up on the screen accompanied by the duck quack ringtone you’d set for yourself ages ago.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbled to Zuko, who nodded absently while preparing a customer’s tea. He stepped out the back of the Jasmine Dragon and slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

“SOKKA, THANK FUCK!” You sounded like you were crying on the other end. He frowned, pulling the phone away from his ear in response to your screech.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” he demanded over the ruckus of your wails. His hand dropped to his car keys in his pocket, ready to leave if you needed him.

“I’M AT HOME AND THERE’S A R-ROACH IN—“

Sokka groaned. “(Y/N), I’m at work. I cannot come kill a bug for you.”

Your blubbering paused. “B-But... I need help! And no one else will help me! Please help me!”

“As much as I want to help you I can’t right now, princess. I can swing by after we close in about an hour, though.”

You made a strangled sort of screaming sound and hung up. He brought his hand down, staring at his screen in surprise. The line was busy when he tried to call you back, so he pocketed his phone with a sigh and headed back inside.

Zuko was speaking on the store phone with someone when he got back to the front, making a face like he had just eaten something sour or smelled something foul. Sokka shot him a questioning look as he tied his apron back around his waist and Zuko beckoned him over.

“What’s up?” Sokka asked in a low voice.

“Just go,” Zuko huffed. “I can finish closing by myself and she said she won’t stop calling us until you help her.”

“Wh- give me that.” He took the landline receiver from Zuko. “Seriously, (Y/N)?”

“I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, SOKKA!”

“It’s a bug!”

“IT’S FUCKING HUGE AND IT’S IN MY FUCKING ROOM, PLEASE GET OVER HERE! I NEED YOU!”

He made eye contact with Zuko and his friend just shook his head. “Fine, okay, you win. I’m on my way.”

She hiccuped. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for, Sokka. I love you. Please hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, princess,” he grumbled before hanging up. Zuko was watching him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, fuck off, dude.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to hide his smirk by turning away to wipe down the counter.

“Don’t look so smug.” He smacked the back of his friend’s head after he threw his apron in the laundry bag.

“Hey!” Zuko punched his shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re whipped for (Y/N) and too much of a pussy to make a move.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m whipped and have to go kill a bug for my girl otherwise I’d kick your ass, Zuko.” He flipped him the middle finger as he headed out the door, keys in his other hand.

“Later, princess.” Zuko twiddled his fingers mockingly in goodbye. Sokka scoffed as he left, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He was wrapped securely and comfortably around your pinky finger. So what? It wasn’t like he had plans to do anything about it. He was perfectly happy being your friend — your best friend, in your own words. No way in hell would he risk fucking that up and losing you.

When he banged on your apartment door you simply yelled from inside that it was unlocked. It was hard to suppress a laugh at the scene that greeted him. You were curled up on your kitchen counter, hood of your sweatshirt drawn tight around your head so only your nose and eyes were visible and a can of bug spray in your trembling hand. Your tear-streaked face lit up when you saw him and it made his heart clench in his chest.

“Hey, princess.”

“Sokka!” You dropped the can and threw yourself at him. He caught you in his arms with a grunt and you wrapped your legs around his middle, clinging to his neck. His hands supported your back to keep you upright. “God, I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life. I could fucking kiss you right now.”

He had to recover quickly from almost choking on air in order to keep his composure. “Just doing my manly best friend duties.” He gulped when you slid down his body. Your feet hit the floor again but you still held onto him. “Alright, where’s the big bad bug?”

You glared up at him for his teasing. “My room. I was about to go take a shower when it fucking flew at my face! I don’t even know where it came from!”

“Stand by, princess,” he ruffled your hair and pulled off one of his sneakers to wield as a bludgeon, “I’ve got it all under control.” You rolled your eyes a bit when he puffed his chest out and flexed comically. You released him from your vice grip so he could stalk up to the closed door of your bedroom. Of course, you stayed planted firmly in the kitchen and watched from a distance.

“Be careful,” you warned, “it’s literally the biggest roach I’ve ever seen.”

“It may be big, but I’m bigger. And smarter.” He tapped his temple with his finger.

“I don’t know about that second part,” you giggled. He shot you a withering look.

“Do you want me to kill this thing or not?”

“Yes, sorry! You are so very strong and intelligent and handsome, Sokka. Much more strong and intelligent and handsome than the roach.”

“You know what? I’ll take that compliment.” He winked at you, sending your heart into your throat. You stuck your tongue out and made a face to hopefully hide how flustered you were.

“Stop flirting and kill the fucking bug!”

“You started it!”

“Sokka!” Laughing, he pushed open the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside. You watched the doorway with bated breath, listening to Sokka rummaging around to find the vermin.

There was an almighty thud, then a crash and a shriek along with thundering footsteps as your friend dashed out of the room with a massive roach flying behind him. You screamed too when you spotted the bug as it landed on your wall. Before you could react any further, Sokka had grabbed you and yanked you out the front door, slamming it shut behind you both.

“That’s no ordinary roach,” he panted, leaning against the door. He still held you close to his torso with an arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Fucking military drone or something.”

“Did you think I was fucking joking?” Your stomach churned uneasily thinking about the insect walking all over your walls and prized possessions. A shudder ran down your spine and you buried your face into his chest, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back in there with that thing loose!”

“I don’t know.”

“You were supposed to kill it!”

“It charged me!”

“You big chicken!” Looking up, you flicked his forehead and giggled at his incredulous look. “I thought you loved me!”

His face felt like it was on fire. “I do!”

“Then why didn’t you kill it? You were supposed to protect me, Sokka!” Your hands settled on his chest and he hoped you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. “So much for being smarter and stronger!”

“But you admit I’m more handsome still?” Your cheeks burned when his hand slid to your hip, using his thumb to rub circles into your hipbone through the fabric of your clothes.

“More handsome than the roach?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy smile. “I guess you qualify for that.”

“Tough crowd,” he sighed. “I was going to bring you back to mine so you could get out of your roach-infested apartment, but if that’s how you really feel then I’ll leave you with the stronger, smarter organism.”

“The roach?” you squeaked indignantly. He chuckled at your wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I changed my mind. You are the smartest and strongest and handsomest again. Please let me crash at your place?”

“Wow, using me for my sweet crib? And here I was thinking you loved me for me!”

“Pretty please?” You clasped your hands under your chin, pouted, and gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes as if he were being greatly put out. “You know I can’t say no to that face. Let’s go, princess.” He disentangled himself from you and started to walk away only to realize you weren’t following. He turned back to you. “(Y/N)?”

You looked down at your socked feet. “I don’t have shoes. Or my keys.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

“Well, I’m not either.”

“Then it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Do you still have that spare key I gave you when I went out of town?”

“Good thinking, kid.” He shuffled around his key ring until he found yours, easily identifiable by the heart you’d painted onto it with your favorite nail polish. “Way to use your noodle.” He locked your front door and stood in front of you once again.

“Shoes,” you said simply, extending your leg to lift your foot in the air. “I’m not walking around like this. Knowing my luck I’ll step on a used needle and end up with some rare blood disease.” Sokka scratched the back of his neck as he considered this before a wicked grin split across his face. You did not like the looks of that. “Sokka...”

Without warning, he grabbed you around your middle and hoisted you onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. The inversion of your body made you squeal, scrambling to grab something to stabilize yourself. In your panic, you sunk your nails into the flesh of his ass.

“Jesus!” He gripped you tighter to stop you from slipping in his surprise. “I know I have an irresistibly fat ass but you gotta be careful back there, babe. That’s my moneymaker!”

If all your blood hadn’t been already rushing to your head you would’ve flushed. “That’s what you get for picking me up, asshole!” You paused. “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘your moneymaker?’”

“Well, I couldn’t have you stepping on a used needle and ending up with some rare blood disease, now could I?” You could practically hear his smirk as he carried you down to the front of your building.

“Do you derive joy from driving me up a wall?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. You made an indignant noise and pinched his side. He yelped and smacked the back of your bare thighs in response.

“Did you just spank me?” You thrashed in protest, making him stumble a bit.

“No,” he grunted and then brought his hand down on your ass, eliciting a gasp from you. “Now I did.”

“Sokka!”

“That’s ‘Daddy’ to you, princess.” He tried to drop his voice an octave to sound stern but he couldn’t suppress his laughter. You were just glad he couldn’t see your face.

“I’m going to throttle you when you put me down,” you threatened.

“Kinky.”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances with the roach. Bring me back, you fucking deviant.”

He dropped you down to the ground and you leaned back against his car door, looking away from his face. “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, babe. I seem to remember someone telling me—“

You clapped your hand over his mouth before he could continue. “That’s enough out of you, thanks.” You could feel his smile against your palm at the reference to a highly inappropriate conversation you’d had together when you were both extremely drunk. You recoiled when he licked your hand.

“Alright, alright; let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered without any malice as he reached around you to open the passenger door. He simply gave you that same shit-eating grin and closed your door.

Sokka decided to spare your pride and carried you up to his apartment on his back instead of over his shoulder. His hands on your thighs, shifting your position every so often, made your heart race. You could still catch whiffs of the tea from the Jasmine Dragon off his clothes, mingling with the masculine smell of his deodorant. The combination put you at ease after the trauma of dealing with the roach and you sighed happily, setting your chin on his shoulder and pressing your cheek against his. The stubbly scruff along his jaw prickled at your skin but you couldn’t find it in you to care much.

You thought he’d drop you down onto his couch once you’d entered his apartment but instead he carried you into his bedroom and flopped backwards onto his mattress, knocking the wind out of your chest as he squished you under his body. Despite the squeezing weight on your lungs you were laughing uncontrollably, arms still thrown around his shoulders. Sokka wished he could have moments like this with you every night; that he could turn around and kiss you without ruining everything.

“Why so giggly, kid? Are you enjoying this?” he teased, leaning his head back onto your chest.

“Laughter is my panic response. You’re suffocating me, fatass,” you wheezed

“Nah, I think you like it.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the giggles subsided. “Maybe. You’re kinda like one of those weighted blankets.”

“Yeah?” He turned so he faced you, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your head. “Do I relieve your anxiety?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “The opposite, actually.”

“You wound me, really. I am a calming, peaceful, meditative presence. I am a delight and a joy to be around.” He frowned when you threw your head back in incredulous laughter. You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning him underneath you.

“Maybe you have your moments.” He stared wide-eyed up at your teasing smile and considered closing the space between your mouths. Before he could work up the nerve, you sat back on your haunches out of reach. “I need to shower.”

“Without me?” he pouted. You groaned and shoved his face into the mattress as you stood.

“Don’t wait up, baby.” He flushed at the nickname you used to tease him. He propped himself up on his elbows to see you down the hall.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” he said. You stopped just outside the bathroom door.

“Sokka, we don’t have to do this every time. I think it’s okay if we just sleep in the same bed without arguing over who gets the couch at this point.”

“If you’re alright with it,” he sighed, dropping his head back down.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s you.” You gave him a quick smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

You always secretly loved staying over with Sokka. The lather of his soap running down your body into the drain made you feel wrapped in his presence — a great comfort despite your teasing that suggested otherwise. His meticulous organizing even in the shower always made you laugh a little to yourself. His products were neatly organized in the order he used them, likely something he started doing when you’d dragged him to a beauty store after finding out he used 3-in-1 “for efficiency.” Now, to your immense pride and satisfaction, he had a full skincare and haircare routine.

Upon exiting the shower wrapped in a towel, you saw Sokka snoring lightly on his bed next to a pile of clothes he’d left out for you. You pulled on his shirt and quickly wriggled under the covers, propping yourself up on your elbow. You poked your finger into his cheek and he grunted, swatting at you.

“Leave me alone, woman,” he murmured.

“You need to shower.” He cracked an eye open to glare at you.

“You’re awfully demanding for a guest in my bed.”

“Well, you worked today and you stink.”

“That’s just my natural man musk. Pheromones and stuff. Nothing to be done about it.”

“Are you an ant?”

“Only if you’ll be my queen ant.” He sent you a cocky smirk and you simply shook your head.

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” He laughed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you directly into his armpit as you squealed. Finally you freed yourself and rolled onto your side away from him with a huff. Sokka slid behind you and rested his head on your shoulder, sliding his arm around your waist.

“You know you love me, princess.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. He chuckled and the sound reverberated against your back, his warm breath on your cheek making goosebumps rise on your skin. His thumb slid absently back and forth across your stomach and the soft touch lulled your heavy eyelids closed.

“Don’t go to bed mad, babe. At least give me my goodnight kiss.”

Enough. It’s now or never.

Before you could start second-guessing yourself, you rolled onto your back underneath him and surged upwards to press your lips to his in an insistent kiss. It lasted only a few moments before you pulled away because he remained frozen against you. His clear blue eyes were wide as he stared down at you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and the tears threatening to spill as you realized what you’d done.

“You shouldn’t flirt if you don’t mean it, Sokka. It gives people the wrong idea,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth pulling into a frown. His gaze darted from your eyes down to your lips and back again.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” And then he was finally, finally kissing you before you could tell him off. You snaked your arm around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, desperate to be closer, to feel his body on your own to reassure yourself that yes, this was happening and it was real. His hand trailed up to cup your face, skimming his thumb gently along your cheekbone. You both broke away to gasp for air. Sokka looked down at your flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips that were just beginning to swell and he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself,” you laughed, swiping your thumb over his satisfied smile on your way to pull the tie from his ponytail. The ends of his loose hair tickled your face as he kissed you again, this time much more gentle.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Another kiss. “I’m kissing the girl I’ve been in love with for years.” Your eyes widened and you shoved him back onto the bed.

“Years?” you squeaked. “We could’ve been doing this for years?”

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me!”

“Of course I had feelings for you, are you joking?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything before now? I flirt with you constantly!”

“Because I thought you were joking!”

“Well, that’s on you, then. Now c’mere, princess,” he reached out and hugged you close to his body again, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“God, you’re such a cornball.” You giggled at the teasing kisses he peppered all over your face. When he finally caught your lips you hummed happily against his mouth. He tasted sweeter than the most tooth-rotting candy and gave you the same sugar high.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I do.” You snuggled down under the blanket and rested your head on his chest. “I love you, Sokka.”

He ruffled your hair affectionately. “I love you too, princess.”

“You still need to shower, though.”

“Ugh.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi

SOKKA/ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell

[smallblip]

Don’t drink the kool-aid

Levihan | rated for mentions of sex

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942904

“Levi... Think of a number between one and ten-“

Hanji says, her breathing is a little ragged, but she’s looking at him excitedly, like there’s something shiny that he has to offer and she’s taking the bait, biting down. Whatever it is, he knows she isn’t going to let go. But he wishes she would-

“Really Hanji? You wanna fucking do this now?” Levi says, he looks down to where their bodies are connected. She laughs and wriggles above him, “just answer the question!”

Levi regrets letting her take control of the situation. Regrets letting her flip them over so she’s on top, promising to ride him until he’s spent and her thighs are burning.

Because right now she’s really not delivering on that promise.

Levi nods, letting her know he’s playing her little game.

She wraps an arm around her chest, another hand coming to stroke her chin. Levi sighs. He shifts uncomfortably under her.

“Seven!” She announces, like whatever shiny incentive there is is within grasp.

“No. Four...” Levi replies, watching as Hanji slumps against his chest. He can’t see her face from where it’s buried against his neck, but he knows she’s pouting.

“Idiot...”

This is how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..." Erwin spits the last word in disgust. "Is that what you want? To be sheeple?”

They are having one too many drinks at the pub and Hanji is laughing her head off at whatever subconscious train of thought streams out of Erwin’s mouth. Love isn't the only thing that can render a man vulnerable. She thinks alcohol is far more practical, and yet, Erwin doesn't seem to have any complaints about it.

Levi shoots Hanji a look, a little tired, yet a little amused despite his frowning- want me to knock him out?

She shakes her head- no, this is fun!

Erwin catches them making eyes at one another and he points from Levi to Hanji, then back to Levi again. “Don’t you dare fall in love... Both of you... You’re too good for that...” Erwin says before taking another swig of whisky. Except it’s a little late in the night and Levi has already swapped it for water. Hanji wonders how long it would take for him to notice.

But it’s a little late and the alcohol settles as a blush on the bridge of Hanji’s nose, and Levi is staring at her now, a little too tender for comfort.

Hanji averts her gaze, this is far too much to deal with now. So she turns her attention back to Erwin instead, chuckling, she says “you must be fun at parties...”

Erwin wakes up the next morning with a colossal headache. “What did I say last night?” He groans at a meeting that’s really just everyone staring at one another with bloodshot eyes.

“Nothing out of the ordinary...” Hanji says, chipper through her hangover. But Erwin catches her and Levi sniggering to one another later. He wonders what the joke is.

But that’s how you talk about love in this world- you don’t. Instead, you replace it with the feeling of bandages wrapped taut over torn skin and broken bones.

“Gentle, Levi... These bones cannot take more breaking... I did the math...” Hanji is wincing and already she’s withdrawing from his touch. He chides her. If she stays still this would all go by much more painlessly. "Stay still or I’ll break your legs too..." he says, but the menace disappears behind deep concentration.

“Thank you...” she says when he’s testing the integrity of her bandages, and his heart misses a beat.

Strange how broken bones can heal themselves in time. But the dull throbbing in his heart and the wrenching in his gut don’t go away. Maybe it just means nothing’s broken. Maybe this is the feeling of life itself. Of the universe telling him hey... You're not done for yet... You've still got a lot of living to do...

After all, this is how you love in this world. First you look romance in the eye and tell it to take a walk. Tell it that it has no business in these parts of town.

Some days Levi is bestowed with the blessing of self-awareness, enough to know he has the romantic capacity of a child with a playground crush.

He kicks her under the table during a meeting, you idiot I told you this was a bad idea, he glares her down, hoping she would somehow read his mind. And somehow, whether by some sort of hallowed bond between them or sheer dumb luck, she does.

She narrows her eyes at him-

watch me.

He pulls her back by her cape, "don’t go charging into danger you idiot!" And he wants to let the sentence run on, you have to be safe, to live a long life, prove the gods wrong, but he doesn’t. Instead he purses his lips and his hand drops from her cape to her arm.

She narrows her eyes, lips pursed. Hanji has always had a rebellious streak and an untamable spirit, and it shows in the way she juts her chin out at him-

watch me.

So Levi learns to love in other ways.

He squeezes her hand before battle, like a silent prayer for deliverance. And she squeezes back, fingers lacing with his, eyes bright with determination- a promise to make it back home.

He drapes his cape around her when she falls asleep at her desk, fingers tracing the lines between her brows, and she relaxes. She dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. And she learns that love can be kind.

Love is tender, love is kind, love is Hanji’s fingers circling his wrist, her hand on his cheek, her arm around his shoulder. Love is her touches that ghost his forehead, down his nose- little gossamer touches; like butterflies. Like she’s trying to remember every detail before it’s too late. But it’s still early and they still have relatively long lives to lead. Whatever it is “long” means in this world.

“This is easy...” she says, ambiguous.

“What is?” he asks.

“This,” she says again, pressing a kiss to his cheek when they’re sitting in the trees, recovering from battle.

And Levi thinks it’s funny how things turned out. Neat freak, disciplined soldier, fussy little runt from the underground, trailing after a person with a penchant for the macabre and little capacity for decorum. Like two opposite poles of a magnet, pulled together by forces unknown.

He remembers joining the Corps and meeting Hanji Zoë, and thinking he doesn’t want anything to do with her. But somehow along the way she has crawled under his skin, sinking into the chambers of his heart, made a home out of him.

They’re lined up on their horses behind the gates, and Erwin is saying something about freedom, about the cause, about fighting and spirit and bravery. Hanji turns to him in the middle of it all, and Levi braces himself. What's it going to be this time? A joke about sheeple? A comment about the flowers beyond the walls?

“Levi, think of a number between one and ten!” She says, and his instinctive reaction is to roll his eyes. But he nods anyway, crease between his brows relaxing when he watches her smile.

“Five!”

“Three...”

“No way!” She kicks herself. She had been so sure she’d get it right. After all, in the years that have gone by they learn to trust one another, lean on one another. She translates his words with clarity and he tells her how she’s really feeling past her burying herself in work. No matter. The gates are opening and Levi watches her eyes light up in wonder. She looks at him one last time before they ride beyond the gates, and Levi knows what that look means-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

And Levi thinks he had spoken too soon about not wanting anything to do with Hanji Zoë. Because now he looks for her in the battlefield, he needs to know she’s alright. And every single goddamn time, he finds her looking for him too. And it hits him like a brick, because this is how you love in this world. Levi stares love down from across the room, pocket knife drawn by his side, he tells it to go fuck itself. But the thing about love- it has always had a rebellious streak, and an untamable spirit. It makes its way under your skin and builds a little home for itself nestled within arteries, heartstrings, and skin upon skin upon skin-

First, comes the tentative touches. Like a deer peeking past the trees in the forest. Hanji laughs too much, and it makes his heart beat out of his chest, but it also throws him off. “Stop laughing!” He snarls, but that only makes her laugh harder.

“Don’t look so scared Levi...” she says.

Levi scoffs. He wants to tell her he isn’t scared. But there’s never a point in lying to Hanji. The fact that they’re so transparent to one another proves inconvenient at junctures like these. He tries to think of something else- anything else. But it shows on his face, and she’s giggling again.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’s too old for this degree of imprecision. It shouldn’t be difficult at all- first you undress your partner, then yourself, and then everything will fall into place.

Now they’re both stark naked, and Levi can see the goosebumps rising on her skin. He knows he’s supposed to do more than stare at her face. But-

Her hand finds his and she presses their palms together, fingers intertwined, we’re okay. You ready?

And that’s how they love in this world. That’s their signal- palm against palm, fingers laced, a little squeeze- ready? Go! There’s no turning back now.

Sometimes it’s the feeling of fingers digging so deep they bruise, of hair-pulling, of teeth scraping against flesh- a reminder that affection and pain are lovers.

In these times, kisses taste like blood. It’s unclear whose blood it is- only that they all taste the same at the end of the day- like rust and iron and the earth. And Levi doesn’t want to dwell on the details lest it distracts from the way her hands slide under his shirt, the way she guides them to the bed. He wants to comment on how the sheets are ruined beyond salvation, but Hanji doesn’t let him. Oh well. It’s nothing a little soap and a hot iron can’t solve.

Her hands seek his out, and she places them on her neck. I want it harder, every time, that means I want it harder. And Levi gives.

Next comes a reckoning that's something short of divine.

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Levi asks after, hands stilling on Hanji’s sides, just below her chest.

Don’t stop... she guides his fingers to stroke her skin again, and he does, tracing each bump and raise, each a testimony to survival, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs.

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?” She grins sleepily at him.

And love is anything but easy in this world, so why should it make an exception for them?

“My mother once told me to really reel a man in, you gotta slip through his fingers, let him give chase a little...” Hanji chuckles, eyebrows wagging.

Levi scoffs.

“An old geezer at the pub once told me if you know how to give a woman an orgasm, she’s yours forever...” And Levi almost regrets saying this. He doesn’t know why he says most of anything he says. But the words come easy, sloppily when he’s with Hanji. And Hanji never seems to mind, armed with a repository of equally horrific things to say.

“I mean... He’s not wrong...” she shrugs, and Levi thinks maybe this is as good a declaration of love as he’s going to get. He wonders if he’d be alright with this if they weren’t poking a stick at death all the time. Then again, he has fallen in love with a person born with a stick in her hands. So maybe it comes as a package deal.

Levi scowls at her and pinches her nose, “disgusting...”

But she does slip through his fingers a little, returning to him an eye short, a new title gained, and a fog in her lungs that makes it hard to breathe. Levi feels a dull ache in his heart that doesn't go away. This time he's certain that something's broken.

He kicks a chair towards her and sits her down, "you have to rest you idiot. You barely eat, you haven’t slept."

She narrows her eyes at him, “there’s no time, Levi... There are things I have to do...”

Already she’s getting up, but Levi grabs her arm and glowers at her wordlessly, one day you’re going to drop dead and we’ll all have a dead fucking commander on top of every other fucking inconvenience we’ve been dealt.

And Hanji shoots him a look. The one that says watch me do everything you told me not to do. But her expression softens when she sees the anxiety in his eyes. Because she recognises the look on his face- she had worn the same concern when she had found him after Isabelle and Farlan passed. The same look every time they return from beyond the walls. And she regrets pushing him away. She hates it with every fibre of her being. So she squeezes his hand before she leaves, I’ll be alright...

He squeezes back.

And that’s how you love in this world. You take whatever instinct there is to keep your lover from danger, to drag her kicking and screaming from the frontlines. To tell her to stop being petulant and sit this one out. Instead, all Levi manages is a- “don’t you dare go running off playing hero again Hanji! You hear me? Don’t you fucking dare,” when they’re alone again in her quarters, two naked bodies lying by candlelight.

And she grins at him, the nerve, the audacity. She actually grins at him.

“Hey Levi, think of a number between one and ten...” she says, and he really doesn’t want her to change the topic. He wants her to promise him. To swear on everything good that’s left in this world that she’ll be safe. But it’s also too late to pretend he isn’t going to play along.

“Ten?” She guesses.

“Five...” he smiles.

Hanji smiles back, “still got it!”

And he kisses her like it's the first time. He always kisses her like it's the first time. Soft, lingering, like a drizzle in the middle of Summer, like raindrops clinging to skin. She smiles at him when they pull apart-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

↭

And Hanji thinks it's truly ridiculous. It's a scandal really. Erwin was right. This is mind-control of the highest and most elegant order. Whatever this feeling is, it has possessed her to build an alter from stick and stone and stitches over torn skin.

A little commune for two in the forest.

Levi’s hand is in hers, but she faces away from him. She doesn’t want to see him like this. Not when it manifests an ache in her heart that she doesn't quite know how to nurse. How will they recover from this?

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Hanji asks absentmindedly. She thinks it’s alright to bend the rules of this world a little. It's okay to talk about love, to give a name to the horror that plagues them. Because whatever conspiracy this whole love business is pedaling, she thinks it’s pretty goddamn convincing, and they might as well admit it.

But they’ve gone so long without having to use words, and Levi doesn’t want to jinx it-

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?”

And this is how you love in this world, romance comes in unexpected forms. It's been so long since they've been alone like this. And Hanji dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. She hopes to god Levi sees it too- and he does. He sees it every time he looks at her. But he settles for the next best option. He takes whatever words left unsaid and hoards them into a stockpile of recurring motifs that are proxy for affection-

"Four eyes... I'm thinking of a number between one and ten..." Levi manages through the pain, and he knows it's all worth it because he gets to watch that smile spread across her face.

"Two?" She says, only a little above a whisper.

"One... You're getting closer..." He says, like a prophecy, because immediately, she closes the gap between them and presses a kiss to his forehead, then to the corner of his lips. She lays down next to him and he musters all the strength in the world to push a stray strand of hair from her face. Like the lifting of a veil-

this is my favourite part.

She smiles back at him-

mine too.

↭

Wall Maria has been breached. The day is breaking and soon everything will spiral out of hand. But for now, it’s still dusk and the sun has barely made its way past the horizon. There’s something so rare and sacred about this moment that it feels surreal.

Levi can’t remember the first part of the conversation. They must have been talking about something stupid. They always are. But the next part falls into place so beautifully that it has to be premeditated somehow. Maybe Erwin was right. This is all some sort of grand scheme, a cult of wonder.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me, four eyes...”

“What a ridiculous notion...” Hanji replies with a scoff and a little chuckle. Because this is how you love in this world. You look love in the face and think, oh god no, really? Of all the people in this world, him? But love is tender, love is kind, love is Levi holding onto the belt around her waist as she tip-toes across a short ledge so she doesn’t fall.

“Me? In love with you?” She continues, throwing her head back to laugh. Her arms are out, she’s getting pretty good at keeping balance. But Levi’s hand is still there regardless.

Levi clicks his tongue, “idiot...”

It’s good that they don’t speak of love. After all, this is as far as love goes in this world- the swell in Levi’s chest and all the words left unsaid, translated into a curated repertoire of looks and touches. A hand on the small of her back means I’ve got you.

And god is it inconvenient to love in a world like theirs. It’ll inevitably end in heartbreak, and Levi doesn’t enjoy being a cliché in a tragedy. He hears Erwin’s voice echoing in his head, “don’t fall in love... Just don’t...”

But he looks at Hanji, his lips curve into a smile when she looks back at him grinning. It’s just a moment, but Levi recognises the look, and Hanji sees it too in the glint of his eyes.

Her hand in his says we’re in this together, a squeeze says it’ll all be alright. And a look of determination tells the rest of the world to take a walk.

In this world, they tell you not to fall in love. It's a recipe for disaster. Like cyanide in a Styrofoam cup.

But Hanji kisses him, and she looks at him like he has something shiny to offer, like he’s slipping it into her pockets. There’s a look in her eyes and Levi knows exactly what it means-

watch me.

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Jungkook is the best friend anyone could ask for. He’d been there for you through thick and thin, and right now, you were looking extra thick and his patience was thinning...

Rating:M

Genre: SMUT! A good amount of angst...

Warnings: Mutual mastrabation, porn, big dick JK. Best friend pining. Pillow riding. Butts. Blow job. Spit. Finger licking? Is that a warning? 

Word count: 4,906

Author’s note: this has nothing to do with his boots...

It's been years. Literal years. Years in which Jungkook had questioned what the nature of your relationship was. Never did he truly have the confidence or the strength to so much as toe the line between what you already had and something more.

You were laying down on his bed, your socked feet pushed up against the lowest section of the attic ceiling . Your toes were pointed and your heels tapped softly on the wall, your legs flush against it. Your butt was pushed up against the pillows on his bed. The comforter was slightly pulled from the edges. He’d be upset. Really, he would be upset since he had this weird OCD about the neatness of his bed but his mind was blank.

He leaned back against his gaming chair right across from it and in front of his desk. His laptop  was firmly closed. His heart rate must have been 100 beats per minute. His hands were sweaty and a little slick from the lotion.

It was safe to say that he hadn’t expected you that day. Given, you come over whenever you feel like, he had hoped-no prayed, that he would have a solid hour or so to himself. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see you, it was just that seeing you was the cause of the issue that he was trying to resolve.

He’d been taking you to the gym with him lately and he was really starting to see results. Especially in your thighs and your butt. Now, he had always thought you were attractive which was what had led him to question his feelings for you in the first place, but now he was getting hard ons far too often when you were around and he was running out of excuses to get away and rub one out.

It seemed that the pillow under your butt was getting uncomfortable because you started to shimmy it to the side. Finally, you pulled it out from under you and set it longways on your body. Without seeming to think much of the action, you wrapped your legs and arms around it and cuddled into the fabric that he’d freshly washed.

Your butt stuck out behind you, in perfect view of Jungkook whose erection was straining painfully against his jeans. His mind wandered back to what he had been watching before you had so rudely barged into his room. A film, of sorts, with two equally consenting adults but their faces were blurred. The woman had a fantastic ass so as he stared at yours, it wasn’t hard to put your face where her’s should have been.

He spread his legs farther to try to give the thing between his legs room to breathe but his jeans only strained over the rock hard rod. He needed to get you out of his room. He needed some relief.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking almost comically. He cleared his throat quickly, hoping you missed the sound but when your head snapped to look at him he knew you wouldn’t let it go.

“HeY,” you mimicked, rolling over to face him and onto your knees, your legs straddling his pillow as you sat back on your heels. The light from the attic window outlined you from behind, like a spotlight shining from almost directly behind as the sun began to set. He couldn’t help but scan your body in a position a little too sexual to be accidental. His eyes stopped on your torso. The white shirt that had been perfectly fine only seconds before now seemed extremely see through. In mock slow motion, you reached up and pushed your hair from one shoulder to the other. The shirt rode up slightly revealing what looked like thin black ribbons of fabric that wrapped around your ribs.

Jungkook’s dick pulsed where it was squished. He balled his hands into fists on the arms of his chair and forced himself not to react, though arousal thrummed through his body like a wildfire.

“Why are you such a bitch,” he groaned, channeling his arousal into annoyance as he’d recently taken to doing. It had the added plus side of making you so angry sometimes that you’d just leave him alone until he apologized which went hand in hand with when he’d finished himself off in the comfort of his own room.

“Geez, I’ve been here for five minutes and already you’re being rude.”

Jungkook groaned and rolled his eyes at you plastering a patronizing look on his face.

“Maybe it's because you came in and fucked up my sheets,” he said, waving his tattooed hand around you. You looked down, a small frown on your face as you saw the little tornado of blanket you had disturbed.

“It’s not that bad…”

Damn you. Damn you and your stupid cuteness. You shifted in your position, holding onto the pillow and spreading your legs wider in an attempt to smooth it out slightly. You probably didn’t mean it. Jungkook told this to himself over and over as you moved. From his perspective, it looked a little like you were humping the pillow. With your lip between your teeth and your brow furrowed in concentration, it wasn’t hard to imagine that you were instead pleasuring yourself before him.

Subconsciously, one of his hands slithered closer to his bulge. It was when he felt it on his thigh near his center that he froze and sat on both his hands instead. He could feel his underwear becoming wet with precum, a small wet spot appearing on his jeans.

“Just-just stop, Y/n! I’ll fix it later. I’m going to have to fucking do my laundry again…” he muttered more to himself than to you but you had clearly heard it, letting out a little hmph.

“Damn. You’ve been such a huge dick lately. I don’t know what your problem is but if you’re going to be exuding this much small dick energy, I don’t wanna be around you anymore.”

Jungkook glared at you. Your arms were now crossed over your bosom, pushing them closer together. A little bit of cleavage visible over the neck of your shirt. How could someone be equal parts infuriating and attractive?

“Well no one’s asking you to stay here! I didn’t even invite you over,” he said turning his chair around with his bare feet so he was looking at his shut laptop.

“When have I ever had to ask to see you?” You asked.

He had severely miscalculated his turn. He bumped his knee hard against one of the legs of the desk. His laptop bounced threateningly close to the edge but stopped just short of falling.

“I don’t know? Maybe you should start! You’re fucking rude sometimes!”

Jungkook didn’t dare look back. His heart had stopped suddenly. It was like he was seeing himself from another vantage point and that him was yelling at the present him to shut the fuck up.

There was a silence from your end as well. Like you couldn’t quite believe what he’d said to you. Sure, you guys cursed back and forward at each other before but it was never serious. It was always in good fun, but this time it seemed a little close to home.

“Fine,” you said suddenly, his bed creaked as you made your way off of it, “I’ll leave. I just fucking missed you since we hadn’t spent time together lately… guess you outgrew me too.”

Jungkook’s heart sank to his stomach. What had he just done? A light sweat broke out on his forehead.

Say something idiot!

“What do you mean ‘too’?”

You were by his bedroom door now. He could see you out of the corner of his eyes but he couldn’t force himself to look at you.

“You’ve changed JK…you used to love to sing, and your friends. You used to have a closet full of white shirts and hated being called oppa. You used to love banana milk and your Timbs… you used to love me…but I guess,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping and what looked like tears started to run down your cheeks, “like the rest of those things… you outgrew me as well.”

Your thin hand reached out to grasp the door knob but Jungkook chose then to act. He jolted off his chair not caring what he hit on the way, he was next to you in two steps.

“Wait Y/N-” but he was cut off by metallic thud and a loud drawn out female moan. All the blood in his body drained. His hand stayed perpetually frozen in the air between him and yourself. The tears on your cheeks ran freely but the shock on your face contradicted that emotion.

Neither of you moved. Another, rather loud moan filled the attic room. It bounced off the poster covered walls and seemed to bounce off the walls of his skull as well. Had he really been watching his ahem…films that loudly? How had you not heard it before you walked in?

“Fuck,” the video yelled and it was like someone had pressed play on both of you. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he rushed back to pick up the fallen computer. You hissed awkwardly looking at the wall to avoid eye contact.

Jungkook shut the computer faster than he thought was humanly possible. The sound cut off just as the woman was getting rammed from behind and her moans were cut coming out short and breathy.

It was when he had set the computer carelessly back on his desk that it hit him hard. You had just witnessed that. Where did you go from there?

He chuckled, because he didn’t know what else to do and the tension in the small room was starting to choke him and honestly that wasn’t one of his kinks so he needed to put an end to it.

“I interrupted you…didn’t I?” Your voice was soft and devoid of emotion. Jungkook chanced a glance at you, his hair covering his eyes slightly. If he pretended it was no big deal then maybe you would take the hint and make it no big deal as well.

“Yep.”

“Oh,” you said, ”Oh! Shit! I’m sorry! No wonder you were so pissy! I would be too if you came over in the middle of-” you clapped your hands over your mouth, your eyes wide and your cheeks red.

That was not a picture that Jungkook had even considered. But suddenly, it was all he could see. You, completely naked in your slightly messy room, your toes curling and uncurling as your fingers pumped in and out of your warm entrance. Your hair, cascaded on your pretty shoulders as your other hand pinched at your nipple. That enticing lip of yours between your teeth and little breathy moans coming out of your lips just like the ones he’d just heard.

His dick twitched again. He was unsuccessful this time in keeping his groan in his throat. It hung in the air between you like an invitation that he regretted sending instantly but he couldn’t take back. You turned slowly to face him.

“Did-did you just-”

“N-no! I didn’t! I-”

“You totally just-”

“Y/N!”

“What?” You asked forcefully, taking a step towards him.

“Please stop… this is humiliating enough without you pointing out that I-”

“Moaned at the thought of me masturbating?”

You’d said it. Somehow, he knew there was no going back. You had ventured past the metaphorical line together, maybe not in the way he’d wanted but here was the chance he’d been looking for. He either pushed you away indefinitely, or took the chance to see if you could do something more with the foundation you had built together.

“Okay fine, so it turned me on a little. So what? I’m a guy! Do you forget or something?”

You blinked at him, biting your lip and furrowing your eyebrows. A shock of arousal burst through him at the sight.

“Can you please stop doing that? You’re making it really hard to keep my hormones under control,” he begged looking up at the ceiling. The light in the room had significantly dimmed. It was making it difficult for him to see you properly.

“What if I want it to be hard,” you whispered so softly he wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly.

“What if you- if you…wait what?” He needed to hear you say it again. He needed to be sure he didn’t hear you incorrectly.

“What if,” you took a deep breath, “what if I want to make it hard for you to keep your hormones at bay?”

Jungkook.exe has stopped working. Error #6969. Recalibrating.

His mouth hung open. The gears in his brain had ground to a stop. There was no way he had heard what he thought he’d heard.

You looked at him expectantly. Hope in your wide eyes. Jungkook swallowed loudly, clicking his mouth shut.

Drooling isn’t attractive.

He scrambled around for some words to say back to you. Anything to say to you that expressed what he was feeling. Maybe a ‘hell yeah’ or a simple ‘okay’. But he couldn’t make his mouth move. His penis pressed against his jeans painfully.

“P-pardon?”

Nope. Not the optimal thing to say. Not even a little close to what he wanted to say. You were right. He was exuding small dick energy and you were projecting the complete opposite.

“You know what? Never mind… let’s just pretend that I didn’t say that and I’ll leave you alone to sort yourself out,” you mumbled under your breath reaching for the door knob again, but this time Jungkook was much quicker and there was no laptop to distract him. He clasped his hand over your wrist before you could turn the knob.

You snapped your head to look at him, the blush still prominent on your cheeks as you looked up at him. There was fear and embarrassment in your pretty eyes. Jungkook didn’t know what he was going to do but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Wait! Uh… what if I told you that it’s been hard?”

It was your turn to look confused. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow relaxing your body slightly.

“What’s been hard?”

With an embarrassed hiss Jungkook said, “It’s been hard… my um…you know?”

You searched his face as if you could read his emotions and thoughts on it like a book. After a couple of seconds of tense silence, the muscles in your face relaxed and your confidence seemed to rise.

“Oh…really?” Jungkook nodded without hesitation. The fact that you hadn’t run screaming spurred him on, hoping that if he was honest he could maybe get somewhere with you, even if it was short term.

“Do you…would you want some help? With that?”

Your eyes were focused on his own but it felt like you could see right through him. The sun had fully set and the only light was coming from the stars and the moon outside the attic window. He was grateful, really. It did a good job of hiding his major dorkiness.

“You…you want to help?”

You hummed, a sound so low and even that It sent shivers down his spine. Just the thought of seeing you naked was enough to have him twitching like crazy.

“Yeah… Why watch porn on a screen when you could watch IRL right?”

Jungkook.exe has stopped working again. Error #6970. Rebooting system in progress. Were you really offering-

“I mean… you could do it as well! We could both… and you can tell me what to do if that’s what you’re into? Or we could just watch each other -hmph-” Jungkook slammed an open palm against the wall effectively pinning you between his toned body and it.

His breath was warm against your cheek. His chest was barely grazing your own. A jolt of fear and arousal hit you hard as you looked up at your best friend of many years. If someone had told you days ago that you would be propositioning Jungkook the way you were now, you would have laughed in their face. But that was then and this was now, and now you knew much more information than you did then.

“It’s the least you can do,” he whispered against your ear, “you did ruin my sheets. Give me a good reason to have to wash them.”

You looked back and forward between his eyes, searching for any hesitance. When you found none and he put his hand down, gently caressing your cheek with his knuckles, you realized that this was actually happening in real time and not in one of your many daydreams.

Jungkook nuzzled his lips on the shell of your ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He nibbled lightly, pressing his lower body against yours. You could feel his erection against the lower part of your stomach. You gasped. It felt big. Really big and unbelievably hard.

His big hand found your waist easily. He held you against the wall and gingerly ground his hips into you. He let out a shaky exhale against your neck. One hand traveled up your torso. He could feel the thin ribbons he had seen earlier under his fingertips. He traced them softly. Inevitably, they lead him to your clothed chest. It didn’t take long for him to realize that you weren’t exactly wearing a proper bra as your nipples were already poking out of the thin fabric of both your shirt and bralette.

Jungkook ran a thumb over the sensitive bud. It was feather light but it ignited the fire that had been steadily burning over the last couple of minutes. You gasped softly as he did it once more and nibbled at your pulse point. His breath was hitting your neck, his hips still rotating sensually on your lower belly.

When you didn’t touch him back, Jungkook panicked. Had he gone too far? He stopped his hand at your chest and pulled away from your neck. A bit of worry was evident on his face.

“Is…is this okay?”

You nodded quickly, not wanting him to stop. He smiled brightly, clear excitement in his expression, then pulled away from you entirely. You tried to hold back your disappointment as you watched him back away.

“Hey we’re not done yet,” he assured, his teeth on display, “I’m just taking you up on your offer.” He shrugged as he lowered himself back on his desk chair. His legs were spread wide, his feet firmly planted. He was slouched against the back of it with an expectant look. Slowly, he unzipped his pants and slid them part of the way down.

Even in this darkness, you could see the enormous bulge in his underpants. Your mouth salivated, something primal awakening at the sight. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to eat him alive, but you didn’t move, still a little confused as to what you were supposed to do.

Jungkook palmed himself over the fabric. His face screwed up into a slightly pained expression. Like even this much stimulation was too much.

You swallowed thickly as you watched his head loll to the side. He was sexier than in your dreams. Sexier than you could have even imagined.

“Well?” he asked, looking at you through lidded eyes, “Get comfortable on my bed babe.”

As if you were in a trance, you walked over back to the bed and sat on the edge trying to think of what to do to entice him. You had pictured this moment so many times, but in every single one, he was on top of you or touching you in some way. You had never thought about him wanting to watch you touch yourself.

In a spurt of confidence, you pulled off your shirt revealing the infamous, barely there, black bralette. You rolled your shoulders back and pushed your chest out so he could better admire it and you weren’t disappointed. Jungkook’s mouth fell open at the sight. A quiet fuck escaped his lips and his hand tightened around his bulge.

“You like?” you asked cheekily with a wink.

“Duh,” he answered rolling his eyes, “Take off the sweat pants.”

You raised your eyebrows at him but did as he asked. Still, this was your best friend, you couldn’t help but be a bit bratty.

“Damn you’re so bossy. I’m doing you a favor JK.”

Jungkook laughed at that, pushing his pants fully off of him as he watched you strip yours.

“Annoying as always. Why did I think you would change that in the bedroom?”

“You love it,” you argued, spreading your legs wide, finally free of your pants. The black, silk underwear you were wearing on full display. You set your hands on your knees to keep your legs spread. The light of the stars seemed to catch every curve and edge of your partially exposed body. You smirked as you looked at your best friend. He was manspreading, his chest rising and falling quickly, like he’d just finished working out.

“I can’t argue with that…” he said blinking rapidly as if you would disappear after he closed his eyes, “Take off your bra.”

“Hell no. I’m more naked than you are, take off your shirt Jeon,” you argued, snapping the edge of your underwear to your skin as a punctuation.

“Hey! You said I could tell you what to do,” he groaned already reaching for the edge of his shirt.

“I changed my mind. If you’re not going to be fair then I’m calling the shots.”

“Whatever,” he groaned, his abs out in the open, but he didn’t stop there. In one fluid motion, he yanked off his underwear. His dick sprung up against his stomach, long and thick. Even in the blue tinted darkness, you could see how angry the tip looked.

“Happy now?” He asked wrapping his hand around his penis and giving it a solid tug that made him screw up his face again, “your turn.”

You said nothing, instead, you pulled down one of the black cups of your bra so your boob hung out in the open for him to see. Then, with not nearly as much grace as him, you tugged your underwear off and sat back farther on the bed.

“Damn,” Jungkook whispered, “you’re so…” he paused looking kind of embarrassed, “beautiful.”

You blushed, not at all expecting him to give you such a genuine compliment based on what you were doing right then, but you took it nonetheless and smiled.

“Hey,” he said before you could thank him, “do you think you could, uh… ride my pillow?”

You blinked at him, then looked at the pillow behind you that you had been cuddling earlier. Jungkook was anal about his pillows being clean so this request really took you by surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah… please?”

“Okay,” you agreed but you only moved the pillow closer to you and hiked a leg up on his mattress. Your lips were spread enticingly and you curved a finger so he could come closer. Jungkook did as you asked, his hand wrapped firmly around his member and stroking it. He stopped a couple of inches short of his bed, his eyes fixated on your core.

With one finger, you traced from your opening up to your clit. The coldness of your own hand sent a shiver up your spine. You whimpered, doing it again but with two fingers, collecting your arousal. Jungkook watched, enraptured by what was between your legs. The scent of you making him twitch uncomfortably.

“Wanna taste?” you asked him holding your fingers out in front of his lips. His eyes widened and he nodded leaning in quickly and taking your fingers in his mouth. His tongue worked to collect all of your juices. It felt heavenly. You could already imagine what it would be like to have his mouth between your legs, but that was a venture for another time.

When he had finished, you pulled your fingers back and onto your core. With his saliva coating your digits, it wasn’t hard to slip them into your heat. Your walls fluttered around them as you pumped in time to his hand around his shaft.

You let little mewls escape past your lips as Jungkook moaned at the sight. With your other hand, you began to rub at your clit. A shock of pure pleasure nestled in your stomach. You drew tight little circles around it. Your legs twitched with impatience.

“Ngh… Jungkook,” you moaned letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook’s hand sped up on his erection. The sound of his fist on it turned you on a little.

“Fuck, Y/N… can I ask you a favor?”

You stopped your fingers on your core and looked up at him. He looked down at his sex then back at you awkwardly gesturing at it.

“Could you…maybe get it a little wet?”

“Yeah,” you said enthusiastically, pulling your fingers from your entrance and changing your position. You pushed the pillow between your legs and spread your lips apart so the fabric was nuzzled right against your sensitive bits. Then, slowly you pressed your wet fingers to his lips again and whispered, “suck.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jungkook half joked but the thrill it sent through you was nothing to laugh at. He took your hand in his own and put your fingers back in his mouth. You leaned down over his member and began to fervently lick around it, using your other hand to stroke your spit into his skin. He tasted vaguely of baby powder and lotion which you assumed was what he was using to masturbate before.

You gave his tip a couple of good generous licks before you sucked at his slits. His precum was salty against your tongue and he casually bucked his hips up into you but you held him down. His lips on your hand stuttered and fell open.

You pulled your fingers from his lips and you used both hands to hold him down as you greedily sucked. Loud, prolonged moans came frequently from Jungkook. Maybe it was because he was so worked up but you could already feel his dick twitching like crazy. Slowly, you began to build your own pleasure with the pillow between your legs, rubbing your soaking slits on it back and forward. The pleasure made you moan around him which made him groan and choke on the sound.

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your back, traveling lower until it was on your ass. He squeezed it slightly, jiggling it and pushing you forward on the pillow. You pushed back against him sending another shock of pleasure directly to your clit. His other hand found its way to your chest. His finger tweaking your sensitive, exposed nipple and rubbing circles on the areola.

You took a bit more of his erection in your mouth, spit dribbled down yours lips and onto him. You did your best to slurp it up, lewd noises floated around you both. Jungkook’s melodic moans filling the room like music.

You found yourself close to the edge faster than you anticipated. Jungkook continued to aid you in your pleasure, bucking his hips slightly as you sucked him off with care. You ran your fingers over his toned abs, abs that you had wanted to lick since the day you saw them and the thought alone pushed you so close it was painful.

“Fuck Y/N… I love you…” That did it. Your walls clenched around nothing, blood pumped into your clit at an alarming speed, your mouth fell open, wide around his cock and it fell straight into the back of your throat setting off your gag reflex. You moaned erotically against him. The pleasure filled your every nerve as Jungkook gasped and twitched then stilled.

Ropes of hot cum hit your tongue, some making it into your throat, some spilling onto his pelvis as he orgasmed. You both came down from your high, nearly together. With his dick still in your mouth, you slurped at the remaining cum around him.

He hissed and tried to push your head off of him but you didn’t stop until you had licked it all up. When you pulled away and sat up so you could see him, his words sunk in. Jungkook loved you? As more than just a friend?

It seemed that it had just dawned on Jungkook what he had let slip as well. His cheeks darkened in the faint light of the moon and he couldn’t look at you. There you both sat, almost entirely naked, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pillow soiled with your orgasmic juices and the words hung out like an invitation that he’d regretted sending but couldn’t take back.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fireworks erupted all over Jungkook’s chest, his lips pulled up into his bunny like smile, his toned chest rose and fell with the quick pace of his heart. The explosion was so powerful that fireworks didn’t even seem like the right word for what he was feeling as he lunged forward and sandwiched your lips between his.

No, not fireworks. It was something more like Dynamite.

Read the rest here!

Part 2

[nazyalenskyism]

Let’s Get Married 1

Summary: A Zoyalai modern AU with fake dating in latter parts.

Ao3: Let’s Get Married

Excerpt: He raised a brow, easing back in his chair, “can I help you?”

“What’s this?” Genya exclaimed without any preamble, grabbing a paper off the top of the stack in David’s hands and slapping it onto his desk.

“Paper, I assume, darling Genya.”

“I mean what’s on the paper,” she snapped, “it says you’re married.”

“That sounds great. See you at noon tomorrow. Yes, Madraya I know how to get to the Palm Court. Yes, I promise I won’t be late. Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Nikolai gently placed the receiver into the cradle before dropping his head into his hands. He was lucky that it was a Friday evening, the firm was empty which meant no one was around to witness this. He was nestled away in his favourite hidden corner in the law library which was the perfect place to get his work done, though he wondered how productive he would be now that he had to create a game plan for the following day. He was practiced in making sure his mother didn’t spill any secrets which was often the result of wanting to spite his father and one too many drinks, but no matter how good he thought he was his mother always managed to surprise him. And then there was the matter of his brother and father. He wanted nothing more than for them to burn with their continual mistakes, but he couldn’t. Whether it was out of some strange sense of loyalty to people who only made his life more difficult or to protect his mother who always stood silent at their sides when they tormented him, he didn’t know.

The only thing he did know was that he was about 15 hours away from another lunch with his mother and her gossiping group of friends where his father would decide not to show up at the last minute because Vasily wanted to go golfing in the Hamptons where they would undoubtedly spend the rest of the weekend philandering. Another weekend where his mother pretended she didn’t know what was happening, deciding to drop as much money as she could manage, just to irritate her husband. Then it would be Monday again, where Nikolai was left to pick up the pieces from the damage that his family caused, wishing that he could close his eyes and disappear off the face of the Earth for just a second if it meant he could be left without responsibility over people who didn’t care about him.

“What are you doing?” From between the shelves stepped out another lawyer, not just any other lawyer, it was Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky was a talented lawyer who had joined the firm a few years after he had, right out of law school. She was skilled, hardworking, and an expert in making the most egotistical men shrink by simply raising her brow. They had worked a few cases together over their time at the firm, but more often than not, they had their separate cases that they chose to work on together. Most days they could be found in each others’ offices, working silently for hours with only occasional requests for advice or lunch orders. Despite all the time they spent working together, Nikolai, who considered himself something of an expert when it came to others’ feelings, had no idea if Zoya actually liked him or if she simply put up with him because he was the least terrible person at work. He always welcomed her company though.

“What are you doing here so late?”

She raised a brow before crossing the space and sinking into the couch cushions next to him. “I could ask you the same thing. In fact, I just did.”

“I’m putting some things together before the weekend.”

“Was your phone call that bad?”

Nikolai wanted to wince, “you heard that?”

“You were on speaker.”

“Saints, as if I needed that broadcast to the entire firm.”

“Oh, there’s no one here. You and I are the only ones left,” she said as she pulled off her high heels and curled her legs onto the couch.

“You haven’t answered my question, why are you still here?”

“You first.”

He sighed, she’d already heard the entirety of his conversation with his mother, it’s not like he could ruin her image of him further. “The sooner I go home, the sooner the reality of tomorrow will hit me.”

“Is getting tea with your mother really that bad?” she asked almost hesitantly.

Nikolai threw his head back, “I love my mother, but these luncheons usually involve my father ditching at the last minute to go and break his wedding vows, while my mother pretends she doesn’t know what’s happening

“And you have to go?”

“Someone has to make sure she gets home in one piece, and I trust her friends as far as they can throw me.”

“Isn’t the saying that you trust them as far as you can throw them?”

“I excel at everything I do, naturally but they can’t say the same.”

“Ah, I see.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, her tone hushed as if speaking any louder would shatter the calm. “Is that why you don’t work for your father?”

Nikolai exhaled, “that’s a part of it.” His father was C.E.O of Ravkan Industries, and unlike his brother, Nikolai hadn’t joined the family business right out of highschool. Make no mistake, he wanted to be a part of the company, he knew he needed to be a part of it to spare the world of further misguided leadership from his family. It pained him, but they were the worst thing to happen to the company, and he often feared that he was the only person who could stop the trainwreck that was his family from derailing.

She nodded, “I know a thing or two about bad families.” Her legs had been drawn up to her chest, and she rested her head against her knees, eyes trained on him, “I can’t speak about anyone else, but your brother is definitely a jackass.”

“You’re right, I’m sure everyone who’s ever met him agrees. Speaking of which, when did you?”

“I came to your office a few weeks ago looking for you. He was waiting for you, gave me a sleazy once-over and asked me out. He got offended when I said no, and I told him that I didn’t date men who look like the Walmart versions of their younger brothers.”

Nikolai shook his head in amusement, “I’m surprised I haven’t heard him complaining about that. You must have really wounded his ego.”

“What,” Zoya said, fixing him with the withering glare she dished out when someone was being incompetent, “like it’s hard?”

“Ooh,” Nikolai groaned, rubbing a hand over his chest, “glad I’ve never been on the receiving end of one of those.”

She gave him a small smile, picking at a loose thread at her sleeve, “how do you usually spend your Saturdays when you’re not cleaning up their messes?”

“Go on a run, get pastries and coffee from the bakery across the street, read a book with my cat, catch up on some shows…”

“That sounds…. surprisingly pleasant.”

“ What did you think I got up to?”

“I don’t know… peach picking or something?”

“Aren’t you allergic to peaches?”

Zoya looked startled for a second, “yeah, how did you know that?”

“That time that we helped Genya with her groceries because she broke her leg? You weren’t paying attention and grabbed them, 10 minutes later you got hives.”

The look she gave him was intense and assessing, had he said something wrong? As much as he liked to think he knew how everyone operated, Zoya Nazyalensky was a bit of an enigma to him still. “What about you? What are you doing tomorrow?” he said in an attempt to maintain the conversation.

“I’ll go on a run with my dog, get breakfast, do some work, get some flowers and do my laundry. The usual.”

“Have you ever had lunch at the Palm Court?”

“No, but my aunt took me to the champagne bar when I graduated,” her smile was small, “it was the nicest night I’ve ever had.”

“I can’t promise that tomorrow will be anything less than a disaster, but would you like to accompany me to lunch?”

Zoya fiddled with the chain around her neck, fingers running over the seams of the locket, as if she was contemplating opening it. “Would it be proper?”

“You said it yourself, you have nothing else to do tomorrow morning, you’ll get a ridiculously expensive and delicious lunch for free.”

“But wouldn’t I be intruding?”

“My father’s going to cancel at the last minute, remember?”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“He will. He always does, and he is nothing if not a creature of habit.” His phone rang at that exact moment, “like clockwork,” he murmured. “Hello.”

“Tell your mother that I can’t make lunch tomorrow, Vasya and I are going golfing.” The line cut before Nikolai could reply, not that he’d been planning on it.

“So, Nazyalensky, are we on for afternoon tea then?”

She sighed, “fine. But it better be as tasty as you’re saying it is.”

“It’s absolutely heavenly. The Dom Pérignon really brings out the subtle undertones in the Pistachio Dacquoise Cake. And the Devonshire cream is absolutely to die for.”

“I didn’t understand half of that.”

“Don’t worry, after the first time, you’ll be begging that we go back.”

She raised a brow, “is that a challenge, Lantsov?”

He grinned, “when is it not?”

“This is a pity lunch, I’m not going because I actually care about you.”

Nikolai nodded understandingly, “of course, of course. This is strictly a pity invite too, since this brunch will definitely be more entertaining than a Saturday spent at home.”

“Great. So we’re on the same page then,” her smile was sharp and Nikolai felt his blood rush at the sight. Maybe tomorrow would be bearable.

***

“Anything I need to know before we go in?” Zoya crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at the façade of the infamous hotel the following morning, suppressing the urge to run home. Was she nervous? For what? To meet Nikolai’s mother? No, that couldn’t be it. She was nervous to lose her bet with him, that was it. He had called her early this morning to make sure that the terms of the bet were solidified, if she fell in love with any of the food, she had to accompany him to any future lunches, whenever he asked. If she won, he had to accompany her to any errands she wanted. She had thought about making him assemble all of her IKEA furniture for the foreseeable future on the way here and had nearly bumped into him while she daydreamed about him carrying her groceries every week.

“If a question doesn’t feel like a trap, then it is one. If it feels like it’s a trap, then it’s definitely a trap. If it feels like someone is fishing for a response, then that’s a trap.”

“So, everything is a trap?”

“Exactly!”

“And you do this every month?”

“More like every two weeks.”

“Saints,” she swore, “and you don’t get sick of the food or company?”

“Well, they do let a little bit too much slide about their husbands’ schedules, most of them are on the board of my father’s company, and if I can get on their good sides they might vote for me over Vasily to take over one day.”

“You’re always playing the long game, aren’t you?”

Nikolai raised a brow, “and you’re not? We both know your ‘favourite hangout spots’ are coincidentally the same places where you can poach clients from Fjerdan Holdings.”

“Wait,” Zoya frowned, ignoring him completely. “If your father and Vasily are both skipping, who else did you invite? I'm taking your father’s place and what about Vasily’s?”

“I’m honoured you think I’d be invited in the first place.”

“You’re not invited?”

“Only when Vasily cancels, which is every time.”

“They really don’t invite you to family lunches?”

“I’m something of a problem child to them.”

“Nikolai,” she said and he could feel her gaze on him, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Zoya. I’m sure.”

“Let’s get moving then, we’re about to be late.”

“Ruthless as always,” Nikolai sighed, pushing open the door.

“Punctual, as always,” Zoya retorted, following him through the lobby, “you should take a lesson or two from me on showing up on time.”

“Never heard of fashionably late, Nazyalensky?”

“That’s just an excuse people with no dress sense use to justify their inability to choose a functional outfit.”

“Ruthless.”

“Honest.”

***

“Kolya!”A blonde woman dressed in beige exclaimed, beckoning him over before pulling him down into a hug . Zoya looked down at her pale blue dress, was she too colourful for brunch? But no, Nikolai’s dress shirt was the same colour as her dress, surely that meant that it was okay. She’d forgotten the ultra-rich nature of Nikolai’s family and the way that high society acted. Sure she made good money at work, but this world, the world of her clients, was something else. She’d grown up eating lunchables when she’d lived with her parents, while she suspected that he had never eaten anything that wasn’t prepared by a gourmet chef before he went to university.

“Madraya, this is my friend, Zoya,” he said, pulling away, “she’s the one I told you would be joining us this morning.”

“Thank you for having me,” she smiled, trying to put on her most charming persona, The Nikolai, as she liked to call it.

Nikolai’s mother shook her hand enthusiastically, “Zoya, this is Svetlana, Kolya’s auntie. Please! Sit, sit.” The other woman assessed her slowly from head to toe and Zoya shot her a cool glance, a challenge, to which Svetlana turned away from. Off to a great start.

Zoya reached to pull out her chair, faltering when she felt someone else’s on top of hers. “Your jacket,” Nikolai whispered, “I can take it.”

She stared at him. What? She went rigid as Nikolai helped her out of her coat, the warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin, making her thoughts freeze too.

“You alright, Nazyalensky?” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her chair out for her. “You should stop staring, it’s rude.”

She rolled her eyes at him, whatever spell had fallen over her was broken now, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he winked in return, but she could see the surprise on his face. Did he really think she was so ruthless that she had no manners?

“So Kolya, tell us about how you and Zoya met!”

***

Lunch was rather mild, and nowhere near as horrific as Nikolai has mentioned. In fact, it was pleasant, certainly much more enjoyable than any meal she’d had with her own mother. Nikolai’s mother cared for him in her own vapid way, and once Nikolai had reiterated that Zoya was not his girlfriend, Svetlana had thawed considerably, both of the women asking her about her clothes, work, and life. The lies came easily, they always did when it came to her family. She wasn’t embarrassed by her past but she saw no value in mentioning the people who had conceived her but had done nothing more than that. Zoya was also not in the mood to be pitted by these women, and she spun them a web of what they wanted to hear. A girl from a rich family who grew up doing all of the things they had.

She told them details from trips she had always dreamt of taking with her aunt but that they’d never been able to afford, easily replying to their inquiries of, “oh, I love Paris! When you went, did you eat at the cafe 3 blocks east of the Louvre? With the 100 year old bakery? It’s a must!” with an exact order of their most deep-menu items. Zoya smiled as they tittered on about the delicacies, as if an evening dining there didn’t cost more than what a month’s worth of groceries had cost as a child. To them her weekends were spent at tennis practice at the local country club instead of split between doing homework, working at her aunt's cafe and in the mail room at the law firm across the street to earn a little money. She didn’t say this explicitly of course, but she didn’t deny it either when they acted like she shared their experiences.

She’d never spoken to Nikolai about her past, nothing beyond the fact that she was raised by her aunt and that she had a younger cousin. He’d never asked, not out of a lack of interest in her, she knew that— but out of understanding that she didn’t particularly care to share that information. In the world in which she now found herself, anyone that deviated from the norm was looked down upon and she refused to be a source of entertainment for them.

The conversation quickly turned away from her however, with a few carefully timed lines from Nikolai. He brought up childhood memories of his own that made everyone laugh, recounting his numerous hijinks through the years. He told stories about the more interesting cases he and Zoya had worked on recently, his flow pausing naturally to let her throw in her own banter as well. She learned of the multiple times Nikolai had nearly burnt their beach house down, how he once “accidentally” lured a hoard of sheep to chase his brother when they were visiting Scotland, and how he was the youngest in his highschool graduating class, finishing at 15 before going to university, and then sailing around the world for a year.

As enjoyable as seeing Nikolai’s nose scrunch when his mother recounted a particularly adorable story was, by the time the desserts rolled around, Zoya felt fatigued. How did Nikolai do this all the time? When he wasn’t charming his family he was charming clients, coworkers, whoever he needed to. She had enjoyed the afternoon a lot more than she had anticipated, especially the food which was heavenly, like he’d said. But in the end she was adamant not to admit defeat to Nikolai even if it meant more meals like this. She would rather stab herself with the salad fork than admit he was right— or was that the dessert fork? Why were there so many forks? She was granted a bit of a reprieve when the ladies saw another group of their friends and decided to go chat with them at their table. Then it was just her and Nikolai, who had gone unusually quiet and was staring at her empty plate quite critically. “What’s wrong?”

***

Nikolai had been right, inviting Zoya to lunch had been a great idea, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d genuinely enjoyed one of these lunches. She had been brilliant, with the way that she handled all of their questions and discussed topics that interested them, the way that she’d chimed in at the perfect moments in his stories to add a little detail that made the anecdote even better. Everything had gone better than he could’ve imagined, except for the fact that it looked like he might be losing their bet, and after today, he didn’t think he would hate these lunches if Zoya were attending them with him.

Af first he’d been genuinely worried that she wasn’t enjoying herself since her reaction to the food had been muted, but the longer he watched her the more he was able to figure out exactly what was going on. He knew she wasn’t touching the desert tower because she knew that it would be her downfall. Most of the sweets were exactly of her taste and she was desperate not to lose to him. What had she intended on making him do if he lost that she was fighting so hard to win?

“Try it,” Nikolai mumbled, pointing at the tea tower, “it’s delicious.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, “you’ve said that about everything so far.”

“I’m serious, Nazyalensky. You’re going to love this.”

“I’m going to love it, or you’re convinced I should love it so that you win?”

Nikolai pulled a face, “why can’t it be both? Come on, it’s a dark chocolate cherry custard, that’s pretty much all of your favourite foods.”

Zoya peered at the dessert as if she was holding herself back, “it does look slightly edible…”

Saints, she would do anything to beat him, wouldn’t she? Nikolai smothered his grin, holding out a spoonful of the custard to her, “you know you want to try it.”

She let out an exasperated breath, taking the bite. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tasted it and she turned to him, scowling, “damnit, that’s so good.”

“I won’t say I told you so, Zo,” he laughed, as she smacked his shoulder with one hand, the other wielding a spoon that was digging into the custard on his plate. She hated that nickname.

“Well, Nik, or should I say Nikky? Or Niko? Or Nikola? Or--”

“Ah, that’s enough, dear,” Nikolai groaned, he definitely had worse nicknames.

“Whatever you say, Kolya.”

“Who would’ve guessed that brunch Zoya was a gloater?” His tone was teasing as he leaned in, brushing the bottom of her lip with his thumb to get rid of a chocolate smudge. “I certainly figured you were the modest type,” he trailed off, realizing what he’d done.

“Me and gloat don’t belong in the same sentence,” Zoya said, but her voice was low and her eyes were trained on his fingers. Nikolai repressed the urge to sit on his hands or flee from the table, but she said nothing and neither did he.

“Kolya, sweetheart, be a dear and wait for your father’s card.” His mother was back. Nikolai shot out of his seat, walking over to her. “We’ll be down the street at Svetlana’s daughter’s boutique. Zoya, hon, are you coming with us?”

“Oh, I’ll just wait with Nikolai,” Zoya smiled.

“Of course, dear.” His mother then pulled him aside, “you should bring your girlfriend around more often. It’s been so long since you’ve brought someone home.”

Nikolai looked at her, bewildered, “girlfriend? Zoya’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. Not even friends, coworkers is probably a better descriptor for our fully platonic relationship.” Was he rambling? He felt like he was rambling.

Instead of replying his mother simply patted his cheek with an infuriatingly knowing look before she followed her friends out of the dining room. Nikolai shook his head out, walking back to Zoya as they waited.

“ ‘Not even friends?’I have to admit, that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Zoya said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I was just taken aback,” Nikolai protested, “of course we’re friends, okay,” he said, raising his hands in surrender at her pointed glare, “I consider us friends at least, I don’t invite strangers to the brunch from hell.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she scoffed, flicking a piece of lint from his lapel absently. “The food was good, and they were nice enough.”

“Oh, they’re not nice at all,” he laughed, turning to take the card from the approaching waiter, “you just knew how to handle them.”

“I suppose I’ve spent enough time with clients like them to know how to act,” she frowned, “I didn’t really have to think about it.”

“That makes you a perfect fit in their social circle,” he winked, holding the door open for her, “you’re clever enough to outsmart them all, they can’t get anything from you unless you want them to have it.”

“I thought being clever was your brand?”

“I’m okay with having a worthy companion in that bracket.” Nikolai jested, surprised when she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they began their way down the street. She probably just needed to keep her balance, he couldn’t imagine navigating the cobblestone path in the high heels she was wearing. He couldn’t recall her ever wearing anything but heels, now that he thought about it. Perhaps she would require further assistance walking in the future, he didn’t think he would mind that.

“But really,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him, “you’ve never thought about us?”

Nikolai turned away for a second, unsure of what exactly to say, and when he turned back to her, she was already looking away. “I can’t say I have. To be fair, I didn’t think you liked me until yesterday, or that you considered us friends until today.”

“Of course we’re friends,” she scowled, punching his bicep with her free hand, “we’ve been friends for years, you dolt. You think I waste my free time on people I can’t be bothered to tolerate?”

“Oh.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, “yes, oh. I always knew I was smarter than you but this is pathetic on your part, Lantsov. What did you think when I gave you that scarf for Christmas?”

“I thought you were just being nice?”

She groaned, “take that back. I’ve never been nice a day in my life.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke, “you really didn’t think, ‘hey, we do our work together at the office, we have the same friends, and I’m the only person in the office that Zoya hasn’t threatened to throw out the 29th floor window? so maybe that means something?’”

“You threatened to throw me out the second floor window 3 days into working at the firm.”

“Exactly!” she nodded, “you would probably survive that fall. That was essentially me telling you I didn’t hate you that much.”

“You work in mysterious ways, Nazyalensky.”

“Hold on,” Zoya put out a hand to stop him, “your collar is up.” She stepped towards him, fingers brushing his neck as she folded the fabric, her gaze intent upon him.

“If it weren’t for my newfound knowledge that you consider us friends, I would think you were considering strangling me.” Nikolai laughed, feeling her pause in her movements.

“That can certainly be arranged,” she teased, smoothing out the lapels of his coat, her hands resting on his chest for a second. Her eyes met his and she looked away quickly towards the boutique, freezing when she saw the occupants staring out the window at them. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Zoya murmured.

“I think that Svetlana thought she could get me to marry her daughter.”

“Aren’t you all about love, is it really that bad of an idea? She owns a boutique, that’s pretty cool.” She stepped back, shoving her hands into her own coat pockets, and Nikolai instantly regretted opening his mouth.

“I’m not really her type.”

“I thought you were ‘everyone’s type?’”

“Am I?” Zoya turned away from his gaze, and he thought he saw her face flush. “She dated Tamar a few years back, and then she was with my sister for a few months, but I doubt her mother knows if she’s dating anyone right now.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You have a sister?”

“That’s a story for another time,” Nikolai grinned. “It may cost you another lunch date.”

“If they have food as good as today’s, every Saturday is yours.”

Nikolai smiled as Zoya waltzed into the boutique, an elegant but disruptive storm in his life. She hadn’t flinched when he’d called it a date, hadn’t hesitated when he’d asked her to accompany him again, hadn’t protested at the fact that he’d won the bet. Despite all the good that had come out of the day, he felt something gnawing at his chest, ‘what, you’ve never thought about us?” and he doubted it would ever leave his head now. ‘Whatever’ Nikolai thought, trailing after her. It wasn’t like even if he wanted to, they would ever be together. There was no use in worrying over something that would never happen.

[never-fully-lucid]

[Un]Subtle Signs

Pairing: Abed Nadir / Reader 

Summary: You’re caught off guard when the boy you’ve been [not so] sneakily admiring just straight up asks you about your feelings. No Y/N used.

Word Count: 1.3 k

“Do you like me?”  

The words seem to echo in the silence of the empty street, and it takes you a few seconds to process the loaded question. How you’d gone from discussing the quality of visual effects in Inspector Spacetime to Abed dropping this fucking conversational bomb was a mystery. The two of you had offered to buy Troy some medicine for his current cold, and had been making your way back to their apartment while casually discussing the show. Seemingly out of nowhere he’d popped the question, in the same tone you’d use to discuss the weather, and now you’re stuck waiting for your brain to stop making fax machine noises.

Once your brain has sufficiently rebooted, you realize that you’ve stopped walking and take a few strides to make up for the distance between you. Abed- now also standing still- is looking at you expectantly, clearly awaiting some form of reaction.  

Deciding to tread cautiously, you respond, making sure to keep your tone light-hearted,

“Of course I do, Abed. I consider us good friends.”  

Friends, you repeat to yourself. Just friends.

Instead of taking your answer at face value and resuming the trek, Abed studies you. You hope that the one theater class you took when you were twelve is paying off right now. As his silence stretches for a beat too long, you feel yourself growing a little flustered and more than a little stressed.

Could he know how you feel about him? You’d been so careful! Taking care not to stare at him for too long during study sessions, making sure not to ask him too many personal questions despite wanting to know him better. After all, you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable around you; you’ve been known to come on a bit too strong in order to compensate for your own awkwardness.

Finally, he speaks up;

“I know that we’re good friends. But that isn’t the kind of “like” that I’m referring to, and I think you know that.” he says, and your stomach sinks a little, blood rushing to your face.  

Shitshitshit! He knows! Or at the very least, suspects!!

“Hah- hah” you laugh weakly, meaning for it to sound lighthearted but coming out slightly choked off. Alarm bells ring in your head and you scramble to do as much damage control as possible, your brain working on overdrive trying to salvage your cover. For all you know this could cost you your friendship with the boy in front of you.  

“Not that you’re not a good-looking great guy,” great start, real smooth, “but can I ask why you’re asking me of all people?” you manage to pull off a small perplexed smile as you speak, which proves hard to do under his intense stare.

Without a pause, Abed launches into his seemingly prepared explanation:

“I'm a perceptive person- I observe those in my close circles, and we’re around each other pretty often. I know that you look at me more than you look at others in the group. At first I simply accredited that to our placement at the table, but there were other signs.”

Uh oh.  

He continues;

“When our eyes meet, you look away and usually flush shortly after. You smile a lot when I’m talking, even if it’s about references that you don’t get. You try to be open about your feelings when we talk so that I don’t have to decipher what you really mean. You look at me the way that you were looking at me minutes ago: your eyes crinkle at the edges, you lean forward; your lips curl slightly upwards- you look... ‘soft.’”

Nonono.  

Your heart is racing. Palms sweaty. Knees weak. Arms heavy- you know; the whole shebang.

“Plus, on the rare occasion that I wear tank tops, I can basically feel you burning a hole into me with your sta-”

“I get it!” you interject, cutting him off rather abruptly. You’d been rapidly growing redder throughout his speech, and by this point you’re sure that all the blood in your body has flooded to your face. You wonder if you could faint to avoid this conversation, and contemplate holding your breath to better those chances.. 

Oh well.

A sigh escapes your mouth. “I thought I’d been so sneaky,” you admit a little dejectedly. There’s no point in trying to deny it now, not after all the surprisingly detailed examples that clearly pointed out your infatuation. Abed’s brows raise, a little surprised to see you acknowledge it so quickly.

“You did your best, and I don’t think the others know,” he points out, seemingly to offer some consolation.  

His words don’t make what you need to say next any less painful, but you know you have to put your feelings aside:

“I’m really sorry if my attention made you uncomfortable. Our friendship is really important to me, not just on the basis of being study-group friends. To be honest, ever since the whole trying-to-set-you-up scenario, I was nervous to ask if you were open to dating, let alone admit my growing feelings and ruin our friendship,” your palms are sticky with sweat, so you wipe them on your shirt.

“I really did try to ignore them. My feelings, I mean. Regardless, I really hope that this doesn’t affect our relationship, and I’m willing to just forget that this talk ever happened, and I promise I’ll try to stop reacting to you the way I d-”

“Don’t.”  

This time it’s Abed who cuts you off, which has you blinking up in surprise at him. Which part does he not want you to do? Before you can ask, he continues,

“Don’t pretend this didn’t happen. And don’t try to change the way you act around me.”

Your eyes widen a little as his gaze moves away from your face, almost self-consciously. A flicker of hope ignites in your chest, and with baited breath, you ask:

“Why not?”

Abed takes a small step towards you, still looking away. 

“Because we share similar interests. Because you always try to think of others, even when being scatterbrained. Because you find happiness in the small things in life. Because I like spending time with you. I’m drawn to you in the same way that you’re drawn to me.” He’s looking at you again, that intense gaze directed at you, with a small smile gracing his lips.

Your flicker of hope is now a burning flame that’s spread throughout your body, and you can feel your mouth stretching into an ear splitting grin. Almost in a dream-like state, you take a small step towards him, looking for any sign that he doesn’t want you so intimately close. Seeing none, you proceed to wrap your arms around his waist, and lean your head into his chest. He smells like soap and some kind of laundry detergent, mixed with a scent that’s just uniquely him. As he returns the embrace, wrapping his larger arms around your frame, a strong sense of comfort washes over you; a feeling you didn’t know you were longing for so strongly prior to this very moment.

The two of you stay standing in the middle of the street, simply basking in your newfound closeness, until the moment is punctured by a deep growl coming from Abed’s stomach, making you giggle against his chest and unwind your arms from his torso. 

“We should get back to Troy, he’ll get mad if we leave him waiting,” you suggest, voice hushed due to the lack of space between the two of you. Before you can move to step back in order to walk beside him, Abed reaches out and takes your hand, studying your reaction. Your grin returns tenfold, grateful that he’s considerate of your response, and you lace your fingers through his larger ones, pulling him in the direction of his and Troy’s street. 

You know there are still things left to be discuss, feelings left to share; maybe friends left to tell, but right now the warmth of his palm against yours is your primary focus, as you walk hand in hand down the empty street, debating the special effects budget of your favourite Inspector Spacetime episodes. 

     ___________________________________________________________

A/N: This is my first fic in a while, so I’m a little nervous posting it,,,  If anyone actually sees this, I’d love some feedback / criticism- my knowledge of appropriate tenses, character writing, and all syntax went out the window. 

[I struggle with expressing physical contact, which is why there’s a lot of making sure that both parties are comfortable with what’s happening!] 

Abed deserves all the love 🥺

[olivinesea]

Satellite

a/n: Ask and ye shall receive I suppose. Here’s some more college Hotchniss nonsense. Still no plot (I promise I’m trying to think of something) and less angsty (I’m sorry, I know we love it). Also, exactly no one cares about this but the title is a big RIP to one of my favorite venues ever. ~2.3k

Hotch’s first concert.

He was not happy. Everything about this situation was the opposite of what he would normally choose to do. He deeply regretted ever making the deal that had landed him lurking in an alley, waiting for “he’s actually a nice guy” Sal to open the side door. He did not like Sal. He did not like the hungry way he looked down at Emily as she flashed her sauciest grin. He did not like Sal’s frowning dismissal of him when Emily had grabbed his hand to indicate she’d need a plus one tonight. Sal had told her to meet him at the side door—the bosses were in tonight and they didn’t appreciate their bouncer letting underage kids waltz in the front door.

Now they had been waiting by the rusty metal door for well over fifteen minutes. Emily was trying to hide her shivers, unwilling to admit she would have been better off with a jacket like he’d suggested. He let her think she was doing a good job of it, reserving his moment of gloating for the inevitable crumbling of this plan. He looked pointedly at his watch, which she loved to make fun of him for wearing. She raised her chin stubbornly.

“He’ll be here soon.”

Hotch didn’t respond, only raised an eyebrow at her. Surely she must realize the reason Sal had been letting her sneak into shows in the past was compromised by his presence. She scowled at him and crossed her arms tighter. He would offer her his sweater. He wanted to offer it.  But he had learned quickly that Emily Prentiss was completely unwilling to admit being wrong. Goosebumps and frozen fingers be damned.

He was mentally preparing an argument that would let her save face while also getting them headed back to the dorms, which they never should have left on Wednesday night. There was a screech as the metal door finally wrenched open. He was glad she’d been staring hard at the entrance and therefore missed the shameful way he jumped at the unexpected sound.

Sal had decided it was still worth it to him to let them in. He subscribed to the numbers game philosophy and saw no reason to write off this number just because she turned up with an unwelcome attachment. Girls like that never stayed attached too long. He could be patient a little longer provided she didn't make a habit of wanting extra favors.

Emily turned to Hotch, her expression that of a cat smugly sitting on clean laundry. He almost laughed. He may not have wanted to be there but he was happy she was happy. It was a curiously simple emotion. One he never expected to feel for this girl who stumbled into his life only a few months ago. She grabbed his hand and excitedly dragged him to the open door. He pulled himself up as tall as he could and gave Sal a meaningful scowl as they passed by. They were almost the same height but the older man laughed at him. Hotch could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his muscles tensed but Emily was already pulling him into the building. She was too eager to notice the exchange and he was happy enough to let it go. He just hoped there would be no more of Sal tonight.

They entered what appeared to be a small lobby with a bar and fair number of people moving about. He was confused because he didn’t see any kind of stage but didn’t have time to ask. Instead he had to speed up to follow Emily, who dropped his hand and was weaving through the crowd, intent on some unknown destination. He was a little uncomfortable about how narrow some of the gaps she led him through were. He even brushed against several strangers, quickly apologizing before realizing that no one seemed to notice.

They reached another doorway in the opposite corner. It was darker on the far side and as much as he disliked this room with all the disorganized people, he didn’t know if he wanted to find out what was waiting for him beyond it. At least in this room there was a reasonable amount of light. At least in this room he could see the exit. She didn’t give him a choice, her dark hair swinging as she disappeared around a corner. He kept moving after the briefest hesitation. He didn’t want to lose her.

It turned out, to his horror, that the doorway led to a set of stairs. It only got darker and louder as they descended. He could feel the air pressing close and warm, the air of enclosed spaces with not enough room and too many bodies. She led him deeper into the crowd, toward a small stage cluttered with cords and mic stands. The stage was home to a trio of scraggly looking people that may or may not have been moaning in pain. He gave up on trying to avoid contact and instead hunched his shoulders protectively inwards. He hated everything about this. He was about to put a stop to it, to bail on this misadventure whether or not she thought less of him for it. Without warning she stopped and spun to face him. The smile on her face melted his resolve. He wondered if he’d ever seen a person this happy. It was certainly his first time seeing her smile like that.  

She said something but he couldn't hear it. She pulled him down by his collar until she could yell in his ear.

“This is close enough for now.”

He wondered at the “for now” part of that statement but was satisfied to have stopped moving. Something knocked into him from behind and he felt something cold soaking into his shoulder. Alarmed he turned to see a man with a beer in his hand passing by. The man flashed a peace sign by way of apology before disappearing into the crowd. When he turned back to Emily his eyes were wide and indignant. She laughed mercilessly at the expression on his face. With the tips of his fingers, he pulled at the wet patch on his shoulder, his stomach turning in distaste. Abruptly her hands tugged at the hem of his sweater. She was trying to pull it up over his head. He struggled against the motion, everything about this place putting his nerves on high alert. She stepped back, eyeing his thrashing.

“It’s too hot in here!” She had to yell for him to hear.

His face remained blankly uncomprehending, blood busy rushing to his limbs to prepare for a quick escape. She mimed taking off a sweater and gestured at him. He felt foolish for not realizing and quickly shed the item. She wasn’t wrong. Though it was still too warm, he no longer felt like he might suffocate. He scanned the crowd around them and saw that they had a little more elbow room than before. People were mostly concentrated in groups of two or three, only half paying attention to whatever was happening on stage. She snatched the sweater out of his hands and wrapped it around his waist. He closed his eyes and for the hundredth time questioned the wisdom of becoming friends with someone with absolutely no boundaries. She tied the sleeves in place and laughed at him again when she appraised at her work. He made a face at her but appreciated that he wouldn’t have to hold something all night.

The questionable sounds from the stage stopped and things quieted down for a moment. Some house speakers turned on as the band started clearing the stage. The lighting got a little brighter, though it remained murky like pond water. He looked at her, perplexed.

“Is it over?” He tried not to hope too much.

She shook her head, a sly smile playing across her face. “That was just the opener. They’re not very good, are they?”

He looked at her, exasperated. It was already 11 o’clock. He could barely get her to their 8 am class under normal circumstances.

“Don’t worry, dad. Main act is next. I’m sure they’ll be out soon. Just relax.”

He scowled. He hated when she called him dad and he sincerely doubted he would ever feel relaxed trapped underground with a lunatic. He looked around again, mostly searching for the closest exit. He was coming to the unpleasant conclusion that the stairs they came down are also the only way out. She shoved a water bottle in his hand and without thinking about it, he took a swig. He almost choked on the vicious burn of warm vodka. He glared at her, eyebrows drawn together as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What the fuck Emily.”

The smell of it settled unpleasantly in his sinuses and he rubbed his nose, hoping it would dissipate. She shrugged and took the bottle back quickly.

“Try to be a little less obvious, nerd.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course she thought he was the one causing a problem here. She drank from the water bottle, her only reaction a small frown as she swallowed.

“Where did you even have that?” he hissed. Her short skirt and crop top didn’t provide a lot of hiding places.

“You don’t want to know.”

He shook his head when she tried to offer it to him again. So she finished off the liquor, whistling through her teeth after the last gulp. He was about to fuss at her—for the drinking, for the late night, for the literally unsafe conditions they were in, but she had turned all her attention up front. The lights had gone down—somehow darker than before, he thought—and the whole crowd had gone silent. He could just make out silhouettes of the musicians taking their places on stage.

A spotlight came up on the singer, center stage and the crowd cheered. Her eyes reflected the light menacingly and she had a smile like a dagger. He wondered if she inspired fear in everyone there, and, if so, why they seemed to enjoy it. She started singing and he was as entranced as the rest of them. A cappella at first, she drew the crowd into her. They swayed gently like a sea of charmed snakes. Just as he felt he might float away on her melody, the drums crashed in and the spell was released. Everyone was jumping and flailing to the driving guitar and percussion. The singer’s voice was still beautiful, but in the same way a broken window was beautiful, shattered glass sprayed across the ground.

The abrupt shift immobilized him until Emily grabbed both his hands and pulled him towards her. She was laughing and singing and showed no trace of the shadows that always seem to be weighing her down. Tonight she was completely without stress or guilt. She was free inside this confined space in a way he didn't think he had ever experienced himself. She wanted him to feel it too and folded him into a tight embrace, just for a moment, pressing her elation into his chest. She broke away and began dancing with the crowd, hoping to lead by example. It must have worked because he could feel the tension inside him uncurling.  

He caught her hand, initiating contact for the first time. With smooth, practiced movements he pulled her into a spin. She shrieked but he could hear her calling, “Again! Again!” He smiled, happy to oblige, barely sparing a thought for the contrast between the stiff, brightly lit auditorium where he learned this skill and this chaotic dance floor. He had never appreciated those awkward lessons, they required too much contact, too much presence. No one wanted to dance with the 15-year-old loner with the bad temper and holes in his shoes. Even if they had, high school bodies, still awkward and mismanaged, did not make for the best dance partners.

But Emily, she flew, directed by the smallest touch. He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly to counter-balance the speed at which she was spinning away. They might be the only people on earth and he was fine with that. The song ended and she collapsed into him, slightly out of breath and grinning. She started to ask him a question but the next song started and she yelped. It was a favorite. She turned back to the stage and he let her go, just enjoying the way she moved without inhibition. He would join her again in a moment but he needed a little time to hold this feeling close.

By the time it was over they were both sweaty and a little gritty. They were swept up and out with the rest of the crowd. He was mildly disturbed by the press of bodies in the stairwell but they quickly found themselves exiting the building. The night air was frigid after the sauna they’d been marinating in for the last few hours. He insisted that she wear his sweater on their walk home, refusing to acknowledge the way she grumbled. They walked quietly, both still in awe of the experience. His heart was so full but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. He settled on something simple.

“I had a good time.”

“Hmm?” She was deep in thought and didn’t catch his mumbled words.

He clears his throat. “I said I had a good time.”

“Of course you did. I told you you would.” She was flip as ever.

He exhales through his nose and shakes his head. He supposed it probably didn’t matter all that much but he’d still like her to know he was being sincere.

She linked her arm through his, pressing against his side.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She sounded serious, no longer teasing him.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Rise

Merlin prompt for you, you mystical purple dragon! I am absolutely obsessed w/your vulnerable Arthur fic 'Collapse': Arthur has been going through a particularly bad spell of symptoms with his heart when there's word of enemy mercenaries camping in Camelot's forests. He wants to go with the knights to fight them off, and Merlin pleads with him not to.

Thanks nonny for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 1: Collapse

Pairings: Merthur can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3479

The first time Arthur collapses in the middle of the training ground Merlin’s heart leaps into his throat. He barely hears the roar of the other knights over the rush of blood in his ears as he scans the field, looking for something, anything, and rushing to Arthur’s side.

In other words: Arthur has a heart defect that none of them knew about. He and the rest of Camelot have to learn how to deal with it. 

That’s the last big blowout they have for a while. Arthur gets up after a few moments, stretching a little awkwardly and wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist when he overbalances. Merlin coaxes him gently into his chair and fetches another quill, settling it in his hand and seeping the remnants away.

“No,” Arthur says when Merlin goes to throw them out, “keep them.”

Merlin pauses, his hand already outstretch to throw it away. “Are you sure?”

“I want to keep them.”

“…alright. Where should I—“ Arthur holds his hand out— “okay.”

Merlin doesn’t ask any more questions, just gets back to his chores. Pick up the laundry basket, tuck the sheets into the corner of the bed that always seem to come untucked first. Pull back the curtains, tie them tight. Check Arthur’s armor for repairs, not that there’s been as much need for that lately. Tuck the sheet in at the corner again. Dip outside to carry the basket to the laundresses. Come back with lunch. Sit Arthur down and have him eat.

“Sit with me,” Arthur says softly, catching hold of Merlin’s sleeve.

“I have to go get the—“

“Please?”

“You’re shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that I can’t say no to you when you say ‘please,’ aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Merlin sighs as he sits, watching as Arthur immediately digs into his own food with a gusto he hasn’t seen since…well.

“What,” Arthur asks, his mouth half-full, when he glances up and catches Merlin smiling at him, “is there something on my face?”

“…I haven’t seen you happy like that in a while.” He reaches out to pat Arthur’s collar back into place. “It makes me happy.”

Before, Arthur would scoff and turn back to his food, or if he were extremely happy, he’s toss something playfully at Merlin and say if he did his job better, he’d see Arthur like this more of the time.

Instead, Arthur just smiles softly and the food turns bittersweet in his mouth. After a moment, he picks up a goblet of pear juice and slides it over to Merlin.

“Here, you should eat too.”

“I’m not that—“ the protest dies on his tongue as Arthur gives him a look— “well don’t hog all the sausages.”

“Oh, going back to stealing my sausages, are we?”

“It’s not stealing if they’re going to a more worthy cause.”

“Putting aside the fact that you are skinny enough to be blown over by a draft of wind—“

“Oi!”

“—that’s not how stealing works.”

“How would you know?”

“The hours I just spent drafting laws and reading the resolutions say that’s how I know.”

“Prat.”

“Idiot.”

“Pass the apples?”

“Green or red?”

“Red.”

“Good. Green’s my favorite.”

“I know.”

It’s not easy but it’s getting better.

The knights, even though they still train as hard as they ever did, have altered their own routines in a way even Merlin disbelieves sometimes. Here’s the thing; Merlin knows the Knights of the Round Table. He knows they would die for their king in an instant and their loyalty rivals even that of Merlin’s sometimes.

He just didn’t realize they were as willing to live for Arthur as they were to die for him.

Out of all of them, Gwaine’s change is the most significant. He barges into Arthur’s chambers with a disrespect that almost shoulders Merlin’s insubordination out of the way. Gwaine waltzes in, plants a tankard of mead on the table, and props his dirty boots not he polished wood like it isn’t Merlin’s job to clean it.

“No, no,” Merlin sighs when Gwaine tracks mud all the way in, “please, ruin eight hours of work in two seconds, be my guest.”

“Thanks, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a wink.

“What is it this time, you forget something?”

“Oh no, I’ve just got some questions for the man that thinks it’s a good idea to not give the men a day off for the rest of the week.”

“You’ve just had two days off,” Arthur says with a sigh, rubbing his forehead, “and I’m also fairly certain you were groaning about having too much time off two days ago.”

Gwaine shrugs. “Well, I’ve reconsidered.”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur starts bickering with Gwaine. Of course, he knows why Gwaine’s doing this.

Gwaine and Arthur have never seen eye to eye on a lot, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean the two men aren’t fiercely loyal to each other. Arthur is the first noble in a long time to earn Gwaine’s respect, and Gwaine is the first man who has absolutely refused to be anything but honest with Arthur. It’s refreshing for the both of them,

“If you can explain why you’ve been going through shirts like Percival goes through sleeves—“

“You try squeezing that man into chainmail without a bucket of lard!”

“Where did you even get a bucket of lard?”

“Wait,” Merlin interrupts, staring hard at Gwaine, “is this why the kitchen’s food has been—“

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Did you seriously—“

“You’ve got no proof.”

“You just said—“

“I said no such thing.”

“Will you even—“

“Let you finish?” Gwaine grins broadly and takes a huge bite of an apple. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re a menace,” Arthur sighs, chucking another apple into Gwaine’s open hand, “and the kitchens should ban you from the halls.”

“Oh, you know he and Percival will just be in the vent with a hook on the end of a string.”

“Wait, that was you?”

Percival isn’t as brash as Gwaine, nor is he as openly talkative as the rest of the knights. Instead, he starts picking up shifts as Arthur’s guards outside his door. Merlin gets a chance to see him more often as he’s no longer training with the knights, and Percival is always close by if Arthur needs to talk to one of his knights directly. Originally, there was some push back from one of the stewards who said that it was, er, ‘unbecoming’ of a knight to ‘demote’ himself to guard duty.

That didn’t last long.

Come on, it’s Percival. The man’s a horse-and-a-half by himself.

Arthur won’t say it out loud, but Merlin can see by the way his shoulders relax when they hear Percival outside that he’s happier when Percival is close. It’s hard not to feel safe around Percival, really, it is. Not only is the man easily twice the size of most would-be attackers, but he’s steadfast in a way that few men are. He’s never shy about offering his own insights when he feels they’re overlooking something important, but he chooses his words carefully. Most men of Arthur’s will say what they mean, Percival means what he says. There’s a difference there—not a big one, but a difference.

“Sire,” Percival says as Arthur calls him in, “Merlin.”

“Hello, Percival.”

“Ah! Percival! Just in time.” Arthur stands up from his desk. “How is the report coming?”

“Very well.” Percival sits down, all creaking chainmail and armor, on the chair nearest the door. “I’ll have it into you by next week.”

“Have you spoken to the other guards?”

“I have. You were correct.”

Arthur nods, looking down at the desk and furrowing his brow. “The new regimen should be about ready to go by then…of course you will look it over before it is implemented.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Well,” Arthur says, clapping his hands, “you must at least join us for a drink.”

“I am still on—“

“There is no one better to keep me safe while I am having a drink,” Arthur interrupts softly as he starts to pour, “than Merlin and one of my most trusted knights.”

And if Percival starts to go a bit red from the drink a little faster than normal, well, no one’s about to say anything.

Lancelot offers counsel as often as he can. Merlin’s never one to turn away one of the knights at the door, nor is Arthur one to ignore the trusted word of his inner circle. Lancelot is by far the most…unchanged by the adaptation. He still addresses Arthur with the same tone as he did before, as though they’re all pretending that Arthur is taking an extended leave of absence. It’s nice, the stability of normality that keeps them all a little saner.

“And what of the people,” Arthur asks when Lancelot finishes giving an overview of the patrols that week, “do they seem…discontent? Upset?”

“On the contrary, Sire.” Lancelot shifts in his seat. “Ever since you have taken power and drawn back the guards, the people are happier. They walk about the streets with less fear, they trust the guards’ presence more in their space.”

“Good. And the provisions?”

“Those who could not sustain themselves before have an easier time cultivating a crop. With the assurance that the citadel will not leave them to die, they have time to ensure their own success.”

Arthur nods. “And we have had no issues with people taking offense to the offers of help?”

“None whatsoever.” Lancelot bows his head. “If I may, sire, this is the most prosperous I have seen this kingdom in all the years I have been here.”

“We are our people’s servants as much as they are ours,” Arthur says with a decisive nod, “we fail our duty if we do not support them.”

“Wiser words never spoken.”

Merlin’s doing his own little internal victory dance in the corner. The thought of Uther’s rage-filled face seeing his son meticulously undo everything he’s strived so hard to accomplish is enough to make him grin out of pure spite. And a good helping of pride.

“What’re you grinning about over there,” Arthur says suddenly, “you win a wager?”

“As a matter of fact—“

“No, no,” Arthur says quickly, “don’t tell me. I’m not getting swooped up in Gwaine’s mess again.”

Lancelot rolls his eyes. “I’m still finding hay in my chain mail.”

“Me too.” Arthur shoots a glance at Merlin. “You’d think it’d be better cleaned.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “If you think you could do better, then by all means.”

Lancelot hides his snort in his goblet.

When Arthur is allowed to go outside—with Merlin by his right, of course, and at least one of the guards a few paces behind just to run for Gaius if need be—he typically goes down to visit Gwen and Elyan in their father’s forge. Since the…change, Elyan asked permission to take a more active role in the blacksmithing aspect of their family. Morgana, as was to be expected, allowed Gwen to work at the forge with a smile and a favor: Morgana’s armor, sat unused since Uther forbade her training, was to be repaired and ready for her to use.

There were no objections, not that any would’ve lasted long.

Elyan meets them at the door of the forge, smiling and wiping sweat off his brow. “Good to see you two, glad you could make it.”

“Always happy to come see you,” Arthur says, clapping him on the shoulder, “by all means, show us what you have today.”

“Just small improvements, Gwen’s got the big things.” Elyan takes them through to the storage area, where the heat from the forge doesn’t threaten to sear their eyebrows off. Merlin’s learned his lesson. “Adjusted breastplates for the archers, different gauntlets for Percival, and a leather tunic designed to increase insulation for the colder months.”

“And you say you haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, just you wait until Gwen’s done.”

Sure enough, Gwen emerges a moment later, tired and sweaty from her time near the open fire, but a triumphant grin on her face. She waves when she sees Arthur and Merlin. “It’s done!”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “Morgana’s armor?”

“Well, it’s got to wait a little bit until she can actually try it,” Gwen huffs, setting her tools aside, “but yes. That should be the last big step.”

Merlin rushes forward to seize her in a hug. Elyan just chuckles. “That’s our Gwen.”

Arthur nods. “That’s our Gwen.”

“Alright, alright,” Gwen mumbles, “enough. You’re all worse than Morgana.”

“Oh, no, she’s going to do much more than we are.”

“I know, I know.” Gwen’s hands fidget a little. “…I know.”

“Alright,” Elyan says quickly, what else did you need to see?”

“Right.”

Then there’s Leon.

Merlin can’t really do much but watch those two, when they walk through the halls together, when they sit at Arthur’s desk and talk, when they stride in council meetings with Leon at Arthur’s left. They’ve known each other since, well, since Arthur was a boy.

There are secrets between them, secrets Merlin would never dare ask of them, that pulls them together in a way that no one else could ever hope to understand. And that paints everything they do now in a fine shade of gray.

Merlin can see the way Leon looks at Arthur. It’s the way he’s seen Gaius look at him sometimes when he thinks Merlin isn’t paying attention, or the way he remembers his mother looking at him. He can see the way Arthur looks at Leon, the way Merlin looks at Gaius or Gwen.

He sees the clever way Leon is always right next to Arthur whenever any of the lords come to visit, ready with a hand hidden beneath the cloak or a quick word when Arthur needs a moment.

Leon is the only person aside from Morgana that Merlin trusts enough to leave in Arthur’s chambers, alone.

Speaking of which, there’s probably a reason Uther never let Arthur, Leon, and Morgana be alone in the same room, other than his arrogance and dismissal of Morgana as a woman.

Between Morgana’s sharp wit and diplomatic skill, Arthur’s stubbornness and determination, and Leon’s knowledge of exactly how to make the court do what they want, it’s only a matter of time before cruel laws are being overturned and the people are happier than they’ve ever been under Uther.

Camelot prospers under Arthur’s rule, not because of his proficiency with a blade, but his duty to his people.

That doesn’t mean it’s not without struggles.

When the first patrol goes out around the border, Arthur’s heading for the armor cabinet before Merlin can stop him. He opens it and starts pulling on his tunic, only to look around and realize Merlin’s not there.

“Well? Help me get it on.”

“You’re not going, Arthur,” Merlin says softly.

“What? Of course I am, it’s the border trip.”

“I know what it is,” Merlin says, walking a little closer, “and you’re not going.”

“Give me one reason why you think I shouldn’t go!”

As a response, Merlin simply nods toward Arthur’s hand on the cabinet door. Sure enough, as soon as Arthur looks, they can both see it’s starting to shake.

Arthur swallows heavily.

“…it’s just a ride,” he mutters after a moment, “it’s not a fight.”

“You don’t know it won’t turn into one.”

“The border patrol is safe.”

“Patrols are never safe.”

“I have to go,” Arthur explodes, looking at Merlin with such ferocity that Merlin almost takes a step back, “it’s my duty, I have to—to—“

Merlin winces and rushes forward. He catches Arthur as Arthur starts to slump, politely ignoring the muffled curse when Arthur remembers that he can’t shout anymore.

“I have to,” Arthur mumbles brokenly, “I have to go…I have to go…”

“Shh, shh,” Merlin hushes, “come on, breathe.”

“I’m fine.” Arthur waves him off before Merlin can tell him that he is not, in fact, fine. “I just—I—it’s—“

He slumps.

“Arthur?” Merlin quickly switches his grip, cupping Arthur’s face in his hand. “Arthur, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.”

Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. “Alright. Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“Aside from the fact that I can’t even bloody shout anymore?”

“Aside from that.”

Arthur closes his eyes, letting Merlin lean him back against the cabinet. After a moment, he opens them again.

“For as long as I can remember,” he mumbles, “I’ve—there’s…there has always been one thing I can do to protect my kingdom.”

Merlin listens, crouching down in front of him.

“If I can…if I can just be there,” Arthur continues, his brow furrowing, “if I can be there, if…if I can see what happens, if I can—if I can be another pair of eyes, ears, hands…then that’s enough.”

Outside a horse brays.

“If I was just a someone who saw, who could—who could try and make sure things got better because I was there, then—then that was enough.”

Arthur swallows and his eyes glisten.

“And here, I can be here. I can still stand up for those who cannot stand for themselves, I can support my knights when I can’t fight alongside them.” He glances toward the window. “But out there…when they leave…I can’t be there.”

“They can take care of themselves,” Merlin reminds gently.

“I know they can, I’ve never doubted that for a second.” Arthur looks down. “But I don’t know if…”

“If what, Arthur?”

“If I could stand not letting them be seen.”

Oh.

Oh.

Merlin swallows heavily. Arthur…courageous, noble, silly Arthur.

“You see them in how you listen,” Merlin says instead, “in how you trust their judgment and seek their counsel. You see them in how you let them barge into your quarters and how you make sure they aren’t afraid to tell you when you’re wrong.”

He takes a breath and leans closer, watching Arthur’s eyes follow him.

“You see them in the way you still take Gwaine out for a drink,” he whispers, “you see them in the way you take Percival’s side in arguments, in how you never let Lancelot believe he’s any less than deserving, in the way Elyan gets to run his family’s forge with his sister by his side.”

Arthur tilts his head.

“And you see them in how Leon has never loved Uther the way he loves you.”

Arthur surges forward and bundles Merlin clumsily into his chest.

“You see them,” Merlin promises breathlessly as he clutches Arthur back, “and they see you, I promise, I promise.”

They stay there, curled up on the floor, until Percival knocks and immediately goes to fetch the others. Gwaine storms right over and scoops Merlin up in his arms, laughing when Percival immediately has to come over and grab Arthur too because they won’t let go of each other. Elyan sets a fire going as Lancelot tugs down a series of blankets and pillows from…somewhere, Merlin’s not quite sure. Leon has a word with the guards outside as they settle in front of the fire.

“Are you alright, sire,” Lancelot says softly, “do we need to get Gaius?”

“Merlin?”

“No,” Arthur mumbles as Gwaine checks in on Merlin, “no, we’re—we’re fine.”

“What happened?”

Merlin gives Arthur a nod. Arthur sighs, buries his head in Merlin’s shoulder, and explains, mumbling most of it into Merlin’s tunic.

“You’re an idiot,” Gwaine murmurs as he finishes, ruffling Arthur’s hair, “if you think that’s what makes us follow you.”

“You’re all here for Merlin, I know.”

“As true as that may be,” Gwaine says, ruffling Merlin’s hair too, “if we were just here for Merlin we’d’ve dragged him off ages ago.”

“You could try.”

“The point Gwaine is trying to make,” Elyan says, shoving Gwaine’s shoulder, “is that we’re here for you too.”

“And that means we won’t think any less of you. For any reason.”

Percival nods at Lancelot’s words, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Your world is my world.”

Arthur glances around, not believing the words he hears from his knights, only for his gaze to land on Leon. Leon kneels down behind Merlin and pats Merlin’s shoulder. With one last squeeze, Merlin moves away.

Leon opens his arms. “I’ve seen you grow,” he says, “through Uther, through Agravine, and through yourself.”

Arthur stares up at him, wide-eyed.

“I’ve seen you fall, Arthur,” Leon whispers, “but I’ve also seen you rise.”

It takes only a little nudge from Percival before Arthur’s hugging Leon as fiercely as he can.

“Alright,” Gwaine claps, “now, have I told you lot the story of the great tavern fight in Mercia?”

“Several times.”

“Just yesterday.”

“You told me three hours ago.”

“Ah, but I have yet to tell you of the other great battle of Mercia. You see, the lass had just brought me this incredible wedge of cheese…”

When the stories have run out and their cups have run dry, and Elyan and Leon have made the beds in front of the fireplace as comfortable as they can—including dragging Arthur’s truly ridiculously big mattress onto the ground too—the knights bed down, around their king.

Camelot has never been safer.

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Instinct - Chapter 5

I’m posting this a little early, but I need to take my youngest to the park, attend the Inuyasha Book Club meeting, do laundry ready for the school week and finish writing other things, and I didn’t want it to get forgotten in the general Sunday madness!

You can read it on AO3, or continue on below 😘

Kagome did her best not to panic as the ambulance door slammed shut. She tried to listen to the slow deep voice of the paramedic explaining what he was doing, slightly muffled by the surgical mask he’d donned as soon as Inuyasha had laid her down on the bed and jumped down out of the ambulance. The paramedics hands were steady, his voice calm, and she tried to focus on watching him as he wrote down numbers on a chart and twisted dials on equipment .

Mama’s hand reached out to stroke her leg over the white sheet that had been pulled up to her waist, and Kagome closed her eyes, concentrating on the familiarity of Mama’s soothing voice and touch in the jarring interior of the brightly lit ambulance. But she felt adrift without him.

Strange as it may seem, she’d come to take comfort in the predictability of Inuyasha’s abrasive personality. It had taken her a while, but over the emotionally charged months that they’d spent together, eating, sleeping, laughing, fighting, she’d worked out that it was all a front. It was hardly surprising really, that he would build up emotional armour in response to his hard and lonely childhood. But he’d begun to gradually let that front slip as the trust between them built, at first offering grudging friendship, and now she hoped, something more.

Over these last few days as he’d cared for her, he’d allowed his true personality to shine through, and he’d become her lifeline, her one point of stablity in the pervasive fog of pain and fever. Inuyasha had promised he’d follow, and he never broke his promises. That was the only thing holding her together. Because she’d heard the second paramedic say the name of the place where they were going – the hospital where her father had died.

 She’d been seven – a happy little girl with no concept of how cruel life could be. Her father was late coming home from work, and all she’d been concerned about was whether he’d arrive home in time to read her a bed time story, because he did the voices better than Mama. But the familiar sound of his key turning in the lock never came. An unfamiliar knock on the front door at that time of night was jarring, breaking the usual evening family routine. It had surprised them all.

 When Mama opened the door, instead of her father’s smiling face there had been police, their faces sombre. They said there had been an accident. Mama was crying. Grandpa had stroked Mama’s arm while she stood behind them, unsure of what was going on. She tried her best to cling to Mama’s waist, but Mama’s stomach was now so full of her yet to be born baby brother that she couldn’t make her arms meet. The kind police lady had tried to take her hand, but she didn’t want a stranger, she wanted Mama and Papa. Mama never cried and Kagome was terrified.

 The police had driven them to the hospital, and she’d sat on the back seat, squashed in between Mama and Jiji, holding their hands tightly, the city lights going past in a blur. She hadn’t known what to think, what to say. There had to have been some kind of mistake that would be cleared up when they got there.

 They were told that they’d only be allowed in the ICU ward for a few minutes. The ward had felt alien, like another planet, the large open space filled with machines and curtains and beeps and whispers. Strangers with masks passed by them, with shoes that squeaked on the grey rubber flooring. The room stank of bleach, reminding her of when Mama had to clean up after Buyo’s little accidents when he was a kitten.

 Jiji had held her hand tightly as they walked past other patients, telling her softly that she must be careful not to touch anything, and that she had to be brave. She wanted to be brave, wanted Jiji to be proud, but she was scared, more scared than she’d ever been.

 And then they’d stopped at a bed at the end of the ward. She hadn’t wanted to believe that man in the bed was her father. He was completely unrecognisable, his chest and one arm covered in dressings and bandages, with more bandages wrapped around his head. He had tubes coming out of one arm, and a plastic mask with tubes coming out of it over his face. He wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d left the house in that morning, or the watch Mama had got him for his birthday.

 Mama’s shaking fingers had reached out to stroke the man’s unbandaged hand, so softly, like she was worried he would break more if she wasn’t careful. But that couldn’t be right. Her Papa was strong. Strong enough to throw her high into the air at the park. Strong enough to pick up Mama and whirl her around the kitchen until she giggled. Strong enough to help Jiji lift heavy things onto high shelves in the store room that she couldn’t even move.

 She’d told her mother quietly but clearly that the police had made a mistake, and they should go home. This was some other little girl’s Papa, and her Papa would be home any minute, wondering where his dinner was.

 Then her ears were filled with the frightening sound of her Mama’s anguished voice calling out Papa’s name. Nurses came running, drawn by the sudden beeps and alarms of the machines near the bed. Jiji had picked her up and taken her out of the way as she cried out for Mama, taken her back through the big room and down a narrow corridor.

 She’d sat with Jiji in a waiting room that smelt like sadness, with a tv that only showed one channel. There was a toybox, but the toys were all for babies. She flicked through a half filled colouring book that sat on a little table for something to do while they waited for Mama, but the crayons in the plastic tub next to it were all broken, with most of the pretty colours missing.

 It wasn’t Mama that came to get them, but a doctor. He’d asked them to follow him to a little room close by, refusing to answer Jiji’s questions until they’d gone inside and he’d shut the door. It was a small depressing space, with faded artwork hanging askew on the wall, empty apart from a few chairs and a table with a box of tissues on it. Mama was already there, crumpled in on herself like crushed paper, her face buried in her arms to muffle the sound of her crying.

 The doctor had said he was sorry, but there was nothing they could do – Papa’s injuries from the car accident had been too severe. The words had whooshed over her like an icy breeze. She didn’t want them to be true, and she’d frantically looked at Mama and Jiji’s faces in turn, wanting one of them to say that the doctor was wrong. How could those words be true, when he’d patted her on the head just this morning, and told her to do her best at school? Told her that he hoped she’d have a good day, and he’d see her tonight?

 But Mama was still crying, her hands reaching out blindly for them both. Jiji had turned and collapsed onto the chair next to Mama, his own face ashen. Then he’d picked her up and rocked her on his lap, even though he usually said she was getting too big to be cuddled like a baby now that she was almost a big sister.

Shocked tears had begun to pour down her cheeks, even as she felt Jiji’s tears dripping on to her neck, and Mama’s soft hands pulling her legs to rest on the small amount of lap she had left, stroking her softly as she tried to comfort her with broken words. And then she knew it was true. Papa was gone. It had been an accident, but that accident had taken her Papa away as surely as if someone had killed him on purpose.

Now they were going back to that same hospital ten years later, and she didn’t know how she felt about that. Part of her felt like that same petrified little girl, stepping into an unknown world. It was so hard to focus. Her mind was swimming, the constant fight for air was making her feel panicky, like she needed to run away. And her chest hurt so much lying down. She tugged on the paramedic’s arm weakly, trying to sit up.

“Is your pain worse when you’re laying on your back?” he asked, making adjustments to the bed when she nodded. “Sorry about that – I didn’t quite get the bed set up properly before your boyfriend carried you in. We’re nearly at the hospital Kagome-san. Deep breaths – let the oxygen mask help you.” Her brain tucked the word ‘boyfriend’ away to think about later, when she wasn’t struggling to breathe.

The ambulance pulled to a stop and the back doors opened. Someone helped Mama step down, and she was startled when the paramedic clicked a safety belt across her waist and her bed started to move, jolting her slightly as the legs extended to the ground and locked into place. Everything was a blur.

Large sliding doors swished open and she was wheeled into a small room, unable to see everything from her position on the bed. A nurse was taking her temperature, taking her blood pressure, talking to Mama and the paramedics, asking her questions, but she couldn’t answer, her breath wheezing behind the mask on her face.

The urge to run grew even greater, so much so that she half sat up and tried to swing her legs off the bed, but the belt still around her waist held her back. The nurse tried to restrain her arms gently, telling her to be calm, that she was safe. But she didn’t feel safe at all! She wanted to leave. A feeling of claustrophobia swept over her as she struggled to free her arms, her chest heaving as her body tried to breathe and cough at the same time. And then his voice cut through the static fogging her brain.

“Kagome. It’s gonna be okay sweet girl. Deep breaths, remember?”

People were arguing in the background, commenting on Inuyasha’s lack of mask and shoes, and Mama was saying something, trying to smooth things over, but none of that mattered to Kagome. He’d promised he’d be there and he was. Her hand shot out to grasp his fingers tightly, and she lay back weakly on the pillow, no longer struggling to run.

“Inuyasha…”

“Promised I’d be here didn’t I?” Kagome nodded, taking in gasps of air behind the mask, squeezing his fingers, her eyes locked on his. Inuyasha stroked his thumb over her wrist. “You gonna be good and take your medicine?”

“Please don’t leave again”, she wheezed, her eyes filling with sudden tears.

“Keh. Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” His other hand reached up to smooth her fringe back, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his face and voice a point of calm as the medical professionals bustled around her. “Just lay quietly, that’s my good girl. I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere else.”

💕

Inuyasha’s nose twitched behind the surgical mask they’d insisted he wear. Even though he disliked the feel of it against his face, it actually blocked out some of the scents that had irritated him so much when he first arrived, making him feel like he constantly needed to sneeze. Besides, they’d said if he wanted to stay in the hospital room at Kagome’s side it was essential, so he put up with it.

Mama had tied the strings on the mask on for him, over the top of his bandana, and had somehow found some hospital slippers for him to slip onto his feet, because apparently him being barefoot was also an issue. They were now both sitting beside Kagome’s bed, watching her as she slept.

His heart was full of gratitide. Thankful for Mama, who had made it clear to the healers that he was family and she wanted him to stay. Thankful that she had somehow found a way to explain things to him without making him feeling totally useless and stupid. Thankful for the medicine that was allowing Kagome to finally sleep, a proper sleep for the first time in days.

She’d been asleep for a few hours now. The nurse kept coming in and poking and prodding her, making him want to snarl at them to leave her be, but her eyes remained closed, her breathing still congested, but steady. Her face was still pale under the breathing mask, but it had finally lost that expression of constant pain and panic that had made him feel frantic over the last few days.

He really hadn’t paid much attention as Mama had spoken to the doctor after they’d got the results of all the tests. The phrase ‘viral pneumonia’ meant virtually nothing to him, but they’d said that Kagome was responding to the medication, and would probably start feeling better in a few days, seeing she was young and healthy, providing she took her medicine and allowed her body to rest and heal.

Before they’d given her the sleeping medicine, a nurse had come in to show Kagome how to cough effectively to help get rid of all the mucous in her lungs, and to show him and Mama how they could help her. Kagome had told the nurse proudly that Inuyasha had already been doing that for her, her eyes glowing as she gazed at him, and he’d felt his heart swell and his cheeks flush as all three women gazed at him approvingly.

He’d quelled his sudden urge to smash the window and leap out of it to avoid the sudden unwanted attention, but only just. He understood it would cause problems for Kagome and Mama and it wasn’t worth the momentary reprieve from the embarrassment. He was proud to think that what had come to him instinctually had actually been helpful, but that didn’t mean he wanted people talking about it, and looking at him.

“Inuyasha?” Mama’s voice was gentle and quiet, and had lost that sharp edge of panic that it had contained ever since he’d come through the well and told her that Kagome was ill, and he was glad.

“Mmm?” he replied, his eyes never leaving Kagome’s sleeping face.

“Now that Kagome is resting comfortably, I was thinking of getting something to eat from the cafeteria downstairs before it closes. Will you stay here with her for me? I could bring something back for you to eat if you like?”

“Course I’ll stay.” He thought for a moment. “Do ya think they’d have ramen? Or those po-ta-to crunchy things in the crinkly bag?” Mama stood, reaching for her handbag with one hand and stroking his shoulder affectionately with the other.

“I’ll see what I can do. I won’t be long. Don’t go roaming around the hospital while I’m gone, okay?”

“Feh. I'm not goin' anywhere. Why would I leave Kagome unprotected like that when she’s asleep?” He reached his hand out to stroke Kagome’s fingers resting on top of the blanket, so softly, like he was worried she would break if he wasn’t careful. Mama made a small sound behind him, and he turned his head curiously. The paper mask on his face seemed to be messing with his senses, because Mama’s scent seemed to be both sad and happy all at once.

“I’m so glad she has you Inuyasha” she said quietly, with a little hitch in her voice. And with that she turned quickly, moving out of the room and down the corridor.

“I’m glad I have you too.” Kagome’s voice was still raspy, but her eyes were clear, and he could see her smile beneath the plastic mask.

“Oi. You’re meant to be sleepin’. Quit talkin’ and close your eyes.”

“I’m awake now.” She tried to pull herself upwards, reaching for the strap that hung over the bed, but Inuyasha was too fast. In moments he’d helped her sit up, letting her lean forward against his strong arm while he tucked pillows behind her back like he’d seen the nurse do earlier.

“Thank you Inuyasha. Thank you for looking after me.” Her fingers stroked his hand, then twined their fingers together, her thumb caressing his wrist. She was looking at him with so much emotion in her eyes, he could hardly stand it.

Out of habit, all the usual words to push any contact away popped reflectively into his mind, but they stuck in his throat, and he swallowed them down. He didn’t need them anymore. Not with her. Not with Kagome. He tipped his head forward so their foreheads were resting against each other.

“I’ll always look after you my sweet girl, because you are precious to me”, he said softly, his fingers squeezing hers. But then he pulled back, grinning behind the paper mask, his eyes teasing. “That don’t mean you can slack off when you’re better though. You’ll have done more than enough layin’ around by then.”

Her sudden giggles turned into coughs, and it was second nature by now to help her, easing her mask off her face so she could cough up the phlegm. Even her cough sounded easier since she’d had that special medicine that went through the breathing mask.

He’d made the right decision, bringing her back through the well to her mother. If she’d stayed in his time, like she wanted to, he wasn’t sure she would have made it. His gut churned at the thought making him feel sick to his stomach, and he pushed the horrible images that came to mind away quickly, not wanting to waste his time on them. Kagome was right in front of him, and was going to recover. She was okay. Everything was going to be okay. He breathed out a sigh of relief, but she’d already noticed the fleeting change in his expression. She always noticed.

“Inuyasha?”

He stroked her cheek, taking the chance to feel the soft skin under his fingers before he had to put the medicine mask back on her face, and shook his head.

“Ain’t important.”

“Yes it is, if it makes you look like that! What’s wrong?”

He sighed, dropping his hand down to caress her fingers, unable to look at her face.

“You could’a died Kagome. If you were livin’ with me in my time with this sickness, with no way back through the well, you probably would have. And I wouldn’a been able to do a damn thing about it!”

He drew in a ragged breath, his heart beating fast, his youkai instincts rising at the thought of what he was about to say, snarling at him, but he pushed them back. This wasn’t about him. It was about Kagome’s safety, and he would always put her first. He stared at her hands as he gathered his courage to say what he wanted to say; they were so much smaller than his own. He couldn’t risk her.

“Kagome… when all of this is over, when we’ve found all the shards and beaten Naraku, I… I think it would be best for you if-“

“Don’t you dare!” she said, her eyes incredulous. “Don’t you dare say that I should stay apart from you! When I promised to stay by your side Inuyasha, did you think I didn’t mean forever? Did you think they were just pretty words?!”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “No, but… I nearly lost it when I thought you were gonna die Kagome, and I-.”

“News flash Inuyasha! People die in this time too! Look at my mother – her and Papa were so happy together, and he died. Modern medicine couldn’t save him even though we loved him and needed him. Does that mean everyone should keep apart from the people they love? Should we both be unhappy just because something bad might happen? Huh?!”

Inuyasha worriedly tried to soothe her with his hands, stroking her shoulders but she shrugged him off, her eyes snapping even as she took deep gulping breaths of air.

“No! It means the exact opposite! We should hold onto people we love so tightly, because we never know when they might be taken away. We should cherish every moment! I love you Inuyasha! And if you think I will let you push me away-“

Another coughing fit stopped her tirade, and he rubbed her back, getting ready to place the mask back over her face. The machine next to the bed began to beep faster, irritating him. She pushed his hand away, and he growled.

“For fucks sake, just hold on, would ya? I know ya wanna yell at me, but you can’t do that if ya can’t breathe stupid!” he huffed, securing the mask back over her face. “Just concentrate on taking deep breaths. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Kagome’s eyes filled with tears, and he brushed them away gently with his thumbs, but more kept coming, and he gazed at her with a heartbroken expression, blinking away tears of his own.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad Kagome. It’s just… watchin’ you be so sick – I’ve never been so scared. It made me realise that I couldn’t lose you. I just couldn’t. And I thought, if there was some way that I could prevent that sickness happenin’ again, even though it would hurt me so much to let you go, I just…” He gulped, unable to go any further, swallowing his own emotions as he brushed his thumbs on her cheeks.

She closed her eyes breathing deeply for a few moments. “Being apart from you would hurt me more than anything else”, she whispered, panting as she spoke. “Please don’t pull away from me now, not when we’re so much closer. Please.”

He whined at the heartbroken tone in her voice, desperate to fix it. Mama’s voice spoke softly behind them.

“Kagome is right you know. No one knows how much time we’ll be given with those we love. It’s very easy to take that time for granted.” She moved quietly into the room, sitting down on the chair next to Inuyasha. Her voice was serious, but not sad.

“But it sounds like you two won’t ever do that. And it also sounds like you still have time to be able to make decisions about what happens after your quest, however long it takes. But whatever happens, it’s important to make those decisions together.”

Inuyasha sighed and nodded, dropping his hands away from Kagome’s face to grasp her hands in his. He wished he didn’t have the stupid paper mask on so he could kiss her fingers.

“Alright”, he muttered gruffly, sniffing quietly. “One thing at a time, wench. Let’s just get you better first, huh?”

Kagome gave him a watery smile, almost hidden by the breathing mask. She squeezed his fingers tightly, as if to show him she wouldn’t be letting him go in a hurry.

“Alright.”

💕

Inuyasha walked slowly and carefully along the thin dirt track, worn through the grass by years of villagers footsteps between the village and the Bone-Eaters Well. He leaned forward a little, not wanting to dislodge his sleeping cargo.

It had been just over a week since he’d carried Kagome back through the well in that desperate dash from Kaede’s isolation hut, and today was the first time he'd brought her back to his time. She’d only been out of hospital for two days, and even though her health was much improved, she still got out of breath easily and tired quickly.

She’d had a short visit to school this morning, just enough to see her teachers and pick up assignments for her subjects. Her mother had taken her, and he’d waited at the shrine at their insistence, sitting in the branches of Goshinboku and fretting about being apart from her.

All his senses were constantly attuned to her now – smelling her scent to make sure the illness wasn’t returning, listening to her heartbeat and breathing, needing to be close by so he could see that she was okay and reach out and touch her. He knew he was smothering her a little, but he couldn’t help it. Last night he’d sat outside the bathroom while she soaked in the tub, on alert just in case she dozed off in the water, and she’d almost tripped over him when she came out.

She’d understood his constant monitoring of her to some extent, but she was beginning to get a little exasperated at him. He was pretty sure if he kept it up, there’d be a solid string of ‘osuwari’ commands in his immediate future. But he couldn’t help it – she’d been so ill and still wasn’t quite recovered and probably wouldn’t be back to her full stamina for some weeks yet, and it brought out every protective instinct he had.

When Kagome and Mama had returned from school, Kagome had the bright idea of coming back to see the others, to show them she was okay. Her mother had agreed that a quick visit should be fine under Inuyasha’s watchful eye, even though he’d wanted to veto it, but he’d been helpless against Kagome’s pleading. It seemed he was turning into a spineless lap dog every time Kagome turned those persuasive blue eyes his way, and he wasn’t entirely upset about it.

Even though Inuyasha had been popping backwards and forwards through the well daily to keep everyone informed about Kagome’s progress, her arrival had provoked much excitement. Her friends had been delighted to see the physical proof that Kagome was on the mend.

Kirara and Shippou had burst out of Kaede’s hut the moment they sensed her drawing near, Kirara winding herself around Kagome’s ankles in greeting, and Shippou bouncing about more like frog than a fox. It was only Inuyasha’s warning growl that he would take Kagome home again if he couldn’t be calm around her that had settled the tiny kit down.

Kaede had welcomed them both into her home with warm smiles and the offer of tea. Sango had pounced on Kagome with a delighted hug, eager to talk and reconnect with her best friend, and Miroku was there with a grin and a brotherly pat on her shoulder, pleased to see her looking so much better.

They had visited with everyone at Kaede’s hut for an hour, Kagome chatting happily with everyone, but the moment she had yawned Inuyasha had been insistent on taking her home again.

Shippou had clung to her tearfully, but she’d assured him that Inuyasha would bring her back again tomorrow, and she’d stay longer. Her promise of a treat had probably helped dry his tears also, Inuyasha thought. He snorted. Shippou was nothing if not predictable.

A gradual increase in the speed of Kagome’s heartbeat had him looking over his shoulder as she stirred back to wakefullness, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. He watched her yawn out of the corner of his eye, and smiled as she rested her chin on his shoulder, pressing her soft cheek against his.

“Oh look, how pretty!” she said quietly, mindful that her mouth was very close to his sensitive ears. “Do you think we can stop for a little while?” She pointed over to the grassy meadow near the well, which was currently filled with pink and purple cosmos flowers, swaying in the gentle breeze, and dozens of butterflies flitting about in the bright sunshine.

“I dunno”, he grumbled. “You’ve already been out all morning. This has been a busy day for you – ya only got outta bed for the first time the day before yesterday.”

“Please Inu? I promise I’ll be good! It’s so cloudy in Tokyo at the moment, and the weather report said it was going to rain this afternoon. It would be nice to sit in the sun for a little while, and I’m sure it would be good for me!” she wheedled in a pleading tone.

He sighed. “Okay, just for a bit then.” The phrase ‘whipped’ came to mind, but when she reached up to gently stroke his ear as a thank you, he found he didn’t care in the slightest.

Walking over to a particularly lush patch of grass, half in and half out of the sunshine, he eased her down off his back and they both sat down. Inuyasha sat up straight with his arms braced so Kagome could lean on him as a back rest.

It really was a beautiful day – birds chirping, clouds drifting far above in a sapphire blue sky. A pair of dark swallowtail butterflies fluttered directly overhead, and he tipped his head back to watch them, the iridescent colours in their wings flashing in the sunlight. A thought crossed his mind that he would never have really sat down to enjoy a grassy meadow like this before meeting Kagome. His mind would have been on where his next meal was coming from, his eyes, ears and nose vigilant to catch any traces of other youkai entering his forest. But now all his senses were trained on her.

He focused for a moment on the warm weight of her leaning against him, the regular movement of the muscles in her back as she breathed in and out. There was still a slight wheeziness to her breathing, but nothing like it had been before. The sun went behind a cloud and she shivered slightly.

“You’re not cold are ya? Cause I can take you back through the well right now if ya are”, he fussed.

“Stop it will you? Mother hen!” Kagome elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he grunted, clutching his side and pretending to be mortally wounded as he flopped down to lay on his back in the grass next to her. He squinted as the sun came back out from behind the clouds suddenly, and she shaded his eyes from the bright sunlight with her hand as she giggled. “Let me just enjoy the sunshine for a little while longer. I’m perfectly fine. It’s nice sitting outside after being in bed for nearly a week.”

She leaned over him to cast his face in shadow, her hands either side of his shoulders and a bright grin on her face. The light behind her gave her dark hair a radiant halo, picking out iridescent blue highlights much like the butterflies’ wings, and her clear blue eyes were more luminous than the skies above. He stared up at her, a rush of emotion welling up, filling his heart. She was so beautiful, inside and out. This girl. His sweet girl.

Reaching up he cupped her cheek, and she turned her head to place a soft kiss in his palm. Even though he’d hated that she’d been ill, they were so much closer now. All his barriers had fallen away – he was an open book to her now, and he wanted to be.

“Kagome… you know I’m not good with words, but-“. Her finger pressed down on his lips.

“Don’t use your words then” she whispered. “You’re much better at showing than talking Inuyasha, you always have been. Show me what you want to tell me.”

“C’mere then wench.” His clawed fingers curled around the red tie of her school uniform shirt, gently tugging her downwards to press his lips softly to hers.

She whimpered, her voice and her scent conveying to him just how much she wanted this too. It seemed like they had been dancing around their feelings forever, but there had never been the time or space to allow it to happen, with constant interruptions. But right now, nothing was going to stop him showing her the things he was never able to say, the emotions he’d tried to hide up until now, the absolute wealth of adoration that he held in his heart for her.

The first touch of their lips was intoxicating to him, and his mouth moved hungrily, savouring their connection. Her lips were soft and sweet, just like he’d always imagined them to be, and he couldn’t resist sucking gently on her bottom lip, fangs scraping slightly as he slid the tip of his tongue over the plump pink flesh. He almost pulled back in surprise when her own tongue tentatively met his. His youki rose as her scent spiked, and he eagerly deepened the kiss, growling his approval, unable to hold back any longer.

Kagome traced the contours of his face with her fingertips as they kissed, and he took her hand in his, entwining their fingers. He reveled in the weight of her over him, their racing hearts almost beating in tandem. With his fervent kisses he desperately tried to convey the depth of his feelings, and she responded in kind, her own lips eager as his.

Stroking her hair with his free hand, his claws grazing against her skin now and again, Inuyasha sighed against her lips, knowing that he would have to pull back soon, as much as they both wanted to keep this going. She was still recovering, and her breathing was becoming erratic. He would not rush this. They had time now, time to let this happen gradually, at their own pace.

He pulled back from the kiss, grinning at her little whine of discontent even as she panted for breath, and he soothed her by pressing soft kisses along her jawline, then nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling the heady scent of her as he struggled to get his own breathing and libido under control.

“You okay?” he whispered, using his hand to gently lay her head down on his chest, combing his fingers through her dark hair.

“Wow”, she panted.“Just gotta… catch my breath. We’re gonna do that again, right?”

He chuckled. “Definitely, if I have any say in it.”

They lay there together in the sunshine, holding each other close. Time didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered, apart from the feel of her lying safe against his chest, her heart beating strongly against his. He pressed his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent. The contented rumble in his chest made Kagome grin, turning her head to rest her chin against his chest.

“I love that sound”, she smiled, gazing into his eyes. “I love how it makes me feel, like nothing bad could ever happen when I’m in your arms.”

“Damn straight.” He swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Cause… cause you’re mine Kagome, and I protect what’s mine.”

Her smile widened, rivaling the sun in it’s brightness. “And you’re mine Inuyasha, and don’t you forget it.” She yawned widely, her eyes blinking, and he reached up to cradle her cheek.

“Sounds like you need a nap wench-o-mine.” She smiled sleepily.

“I am a little tired. What a good thing you’re so comfy”, she teased, poking at his stomach with her fingers and rubbing her cheek against his chest.

“Oi! What am I now, a futon?” he chuckled. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, snuggling in to get comfortable.

“Shhh, futon’s don’t talk.”

“Are ya sure you don’t want me to take you back through the well?” he asked with concern. “It’s gettin’ later in the afternoon, and your bed’s probably better for ya right now.”

“Nope. Nothing could be better for me than being right here with you. Now shush.”

He listened as her breathing settled and her heartbeat slowed to a steady resting pace. The shade of the tree moved over them, and he wrapped his arms around her, the voluminous sleeves of his fire rat acting as a protective blanket as she slept contentedly in his arms.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her; he’d never really understood what she could see in him that he’d never been able to see himself. All he knew was that he would thank the Kami every damn day that she’d somehow come into his life, against all odds, and he would freely give her his heart and soul. Would continue to protect her with his life as they fought this battle against Naraku together.

He was still worried about what might happen after the jewel was purified, but for now, he was content to let the future look after itself. Because how could his future be anything but bright, with Kagome by his side.

[seijohsfairy]

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙳

big brothers find it hard to draw a line; alternatively, that one day where issei is fed up with tooru’s selfishness this is a rewrite of my very first fic on this blog so if it seems familiar that might be why!

.wordc. 6k+ tw incest, dubcon, breeding, coercion, unprotected sex, very affectionate niichan issei and step brother tooru

+

Issei turns his head to the side, plush pillows obstructing part of his view when he looks at you. You’re laying on your belly, legs paddling back and forth through the air in a motion that he presumes is soothing, on his couch. You can’t sit- or lay- or be still when you’re thinking about something important.

He recognizes the telltale signs easily, this one a bastardized version of your typical nervous tick. He pushes some of the pillow from in front of his face, and sighs. “You know you can’t hide in here all evening, right? You can stay if you want to, but eventually people will come looking for you.” His voice makes your nervous jitters calm enough to hold you still for a while, as you hum into the pillow you’ve pressed your face into.

You know. But you don’t say anything else, so he rolls onto his side and waits for you to make sense of your thoughts, arm under his head. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell, if that was the case you wouldn’t have come into his room with your hands laced into the bottom of your shirt in frustration after all. He doesn’t mind anyway, since he gets to look at you without feeling guilty this way.

For once not having to pry his hand in between the tight hold Tooru loves holding you in. You came to him for a reason, the least he can do is help. After a minute or so in silence, Issei speaks up again. “You want to tell me what happened to your neck?”

Your neck, tainted deep purple and dark red that seems to spread out under the soft skin. He’d seen it this morning too, but your turtleneck had covered the main chunk of bruises then. Now that you’re only wearing a shirt to go to bed, it’s much more of an eyesore. And though he feels bad for even thinking it, the sight makes his stomach churn.

“We both know you didn’t burn yourself on your straightener like you told me. Looks like you got mauled by a bear,” he smiles when the sentence makes you giggle, head finally appearing from within the soft couch to look at him. He breathes, before nodding his head toward the colourful splotches again. “A boy did that, huh.”

You swallow. “Yeah. Tooru niichan kissed me there. H-he said- said it would protect me from bad guys when he can’t be around.” He doesn’t know why he even asked, he knew that. He knew it because he was there when Tooru formulated his little plan, saying that it would be the best way to keep you ‘safe’. The guy’s been totally possessive ever since his mom married your dad, making him your second niichan, if not by blood. “It’s not wrong, because he loves me,” you quickly mutter after it, and Issei can basically hear Tooru’s voice when you repeat the line he must’ve drilled into your subconscious.

He knew of it, and fuck, he even agreed to it in his head. Instead of protecting you from bad guys he should protect you from himself, keep you from his thoughts, his needs, his wants. But he can’t, and it’s the guilty feeling of pretending not to know that is eating him alive. He wants to be ignorant, wants to pretend like he doesn’t understand the implications there. Tooru loves you, yes. He loves you loads, but not just like an older brother should love his little sister and though you’re not technically siblings, you’ve been together for long enough not to make a difference.

Issei loves you too, though he’s not as obvious about it as the other is. He loves you too, Hell, he probably loves you even more than anyone else loves you. Though he aches to pretend he’s ignorant, he’s nothing better than Tooru. Because instead of being grossed out, or worried, the sight of those love bites only makes him jealous. And that’s an even worse kind of wrong, because you and him really are siblings before anything else. The way you flush any time they ask you something ‘weird’ seems to imply you know it’s wrong too but you’ve always been too kind to tell your big brothers ‘no’.

Always been easy to sway when they want something. Just let me kiss your cheek, just let me hold your hand, just let me rub your back. Just let me hold you in my bed, or else I can’t sleep. Just let me pull you into my lap because I’m cold. Just kiss me back once, I need to know that my lips are soft. They’ve gotten sickly efficient at the requests, both of them, both Tooru and him.

He likes to think of himself as a good older brother despite it. “Please don’t tell,” you bring out when he stays quiet, eyes going big as you lift your head up from your resting position to support your torso on your underarms. It causes your oversized shirt to ride up on your legs, exposing the pink lace panties that cup your curves perfectly.

As a good older brother, that shouldn’t send blood rushing through his veins. It shouldn’t be a Herculean task to drag his eyes away from your skin. And yet it’s so much fucking harder than he wants it to be. He stutters out a vague agreement at your plea but turns to the ceiling. Those panties are the ones he jerks off into when you’re not home. They are your favourites, so they are his favourites too, and he loves grabbing them from your fresh laundry before you get the chance. Never after you’ve worn them, he hasn’t dared to do that yet. But he’s thought about it enough times for the vivid image of it to flash in front of his eyes.

You don’t get to confine in him a lot, so the thoughts make him feel more than just shameful. Uncomfortably, he shifts his lower body away from you when he notices the strange way his sweatpants pull. The grey fabric seems to defy gravity, wrapping a bit too tight around his muscular thighs and spanning over the bump of his crotch. You’re not looking at him anymore, too preoccupied by the books on his desk to pay him much mind, and he sighs softly.

If you were to look over, this could be explained away. Guys get erections sometimes, it just happens. But he knows better. His little sister makes him hard. His hand slides lower swiftly to rearrange his hardening cock next to his thigh, before he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. This does catch your attention, a worried frown coming to form between your two brows. “Issei nii, you’re not mad, are you?”

Your soft call of his name makes his heart warm, but his eyes don’t move from the ceiling, can’t- or else he might do something stupid. God, he really doesn’t want to be weird. He truly doesn’t, but what the hell is he supposed to do when you lay there looking like that, with those big, doe eyes just for him? He looks over. Your naked legs are resting together in a way that props up your ass under that shirt- his fucking shirt, and your pretty lips are drawn into a pout. You always steal the shirts of the men in the house, using them as impromptu dresses.

He calls it disgusting in his mind, how his dick twitches in his pants at the sight, but he doesn’t look away. “No, I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.” This much is true, and relief floods your features at it. He swallows the tightness in his throat, before looking at the mess Tooru’s made of your neck and shoulder again. It’s that same jealousy that makes the next words come. “I won’t tell, but you do have to come over here and explain big bro Issei everything that happened.”

Closer, he just wants you closer. It’s like a spell that refuses to let him breathe properly. And though you think about it for a few seconds, you eventually slip out of the couch to join him on the bed, tucking one of your legs underneath you. You look a bit embarrassed, sitting there on the edge of his dark bed. The brunet sits up too, and scoots back a bit to allow you more space. “He-” you start, picking mindlessly at the cover of his blanket “-he came into my room in his towel and laid down on my bed. And he hugged me a lot, and kissed me.” Your leg twitches up and down with the nervous confession. You probably hadn’t expected to have to tell your other big brother about it in detail, considering the guilty expression that slips on.

Issei doesn’t think you’re guilty. If anything, he is. He even makes peace with the fact that he’s about to be a lot more guilty. He puts his large hands on your thighs when you finish and shuffles you closer to him, which you allow. When you don’t say anything, soft breathing indicative of your doubt, he takes your legs and drapes them either side of his body, so that you’re even closer. You’re so warm, so soft for him.

Fingertips under your chin drag your face back upward, to his soft expression. It’s a gentle smile, filled with love and what must be understanding since he nods at your words and pets your hair. “Kissed you on the lips?” he questions then, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your inner thigh. It’s a bit too close to your center but you choose to ignore that. Kissed me everywhere, you want to say, but the words don’t come out.

Again you pout, but before you can explain more his lips are pressed to yours. A little peck, and another on your nose. “It’s okay, you can tell your big brother anything, right?” He sounds so secure, that you can’t help but nod. You suddenly feel really overwhelmed, from the sweet coaching of your one brother, the greedy hands and lips of the other, the stress of not being able to tell anyone. As tears come up with every blink, you toss yourself into Issei’s chest, sighing in relief as his arms immediately wrap tightly around you. You feel so ashamed of lying to him this morning, when all he wants is to make sure you’re safe and happy. His familiar scent is the most comforting thing in the world.

Your face is pressed tightly against his neck, hands grabbing onto the sides of his shirt as you whimper in defeat. You already knew you’d spill as soon as you walked into his room, but that doesn’t take away how good it feels to be honest. “I’m sorry for lying to you this morning, but I thought you’d be mad.” His fingertips are chilly on your skin, dragging goosebumps out of you automatically as they brush the skin of where your thigh meets your waist, alternating between gentle tracing and more forceful kneading of your tender skin. It’s too close, he’s too close but he’s always been touchy with you, so you allow it without a second thought.

Despite the cracking coolness that always comes off him, his hugs are warm. It’s dizzying. The small of your back is rubbed in gentle, methodical patterns as Issei breathes into your hair, the warmth of his close body lulling you into security. “I’m really sorry, niichan. I won’t lie again. I just didn’t want you to tell daddy.” Your face sinking against his pecs, you can feel his heartbeat, it seems to thump through your own body with violent gratitude. “And Tooru said—”

“I know, little one,” he cuts you off gently, before burying his nose into you in return. As if even this close isn’t close enough. His voice is low in the silence, unwilling to disturb the rest of the house. “Tooru knows what he’s doing. He is smart about that stuff. It’s not your fault.” Once again he shifts to grab hold of your chin and tilts your face toward him, but because you’re so close you almost bump your forehead to his chin.

The dark haired man doesn’t care at all, mouth just about level with yours and his breaths brushing past your cheeks. You attempt to put some space between your two faces but the hand that was on your chin immediately slides to the back of your neck. With that strong hand he keeps you in place as he presses his lips against yours again. Your eyes stay open in surprise at the first kiss, hands opening to push away from him but hovering mid movement at the little noise your brother makes.

“Issei, don’t,” you mumble into his mouth, flushing.

You don’t tell him that he’s too close though. He’s taking care of you because you came here. He’s holding you because you crawled into him. You asked for this, right? The lips on yours are soft and move slowly, as if not to scare you away. He kisses on you, kisses your top lip and then your bottom, and the corners of your mouth while you sit still like a wooden doll in his hold. If you were to pull away you might hurt him and you don’t want that.

After a few more of these kisses he pulls back, a line pulling between his brows at your unmoving state. “It’s okay,” he says softly, brushing some of your hair away, “you want to feel better?” It’s not really a question, since he continues right away. “I’m not going to do anything else, just kiss like that. It’s okay, right?” You swallow, unsure. It feels like you’re guilty of something, just not knowing what. But he looks so sure of himself.

“I’m not gonna do anything else,” he assures again, and so you nod. This leads him to drop his hand away from your neck and back down your body, long fingers settling right above your butt. “Your big brother’s here for you. Kiss me back.” It’s not a question, voice soft but steady and from the way his eyes sharpen onto your lips, you don’t want to disobey. You asked for his help, after all. You can’t remember really, but you must have.

Once again he leans in to kiss you, you press your lips back against his harder and he hums in agreement. You do your best to make him feel the movements of your mouth, not wanting to disappoint. Your soft pecks spurs him on more, body hovering over your much smaller shape eagerly as he moves his lips against yours, and too soon he starts pressing his tongue to the seam of your lips. He pries them open with ease, holding your head in place by your jaw when you move to pull back from him.

He’s soft though, careful still, but doesn’t want to let go of you. Feeling like you’re not allowed to move makes your chest tighten, uncomfortable spikes trembling in your airways. It’s such an uneasy feeling. Tooru does it too though, so it must be normal when kissing. You still don’t really like it. His lips are effortless in their chase of yours, plush and tender. It feels- a bit awkward, but he tastes good. Like honey and camomile tea. And he seems to think you taste good too, because he sucks at your tongue until it’s in his own mouth. It feels funny.

You feel his tongue rub around yours, finishing off with a few open mouth kisses before pulling back to breathe. “Much better. Good girl,” he whispers, flicking your nose playfully. If you were feeling a bit stressed before, this calms you. He’s here for you. This is all for you. The praise is sucked into your frazzled brain, happy to make him so happy. You even dare give him a kiss of your own, which makes Issei smile like he’s the sun.

For a moment you two sit like that, tangled together in each other’s arms. Then your big brother tilts your head to the side a tad, and brushes his fingers over the mess Tooru made of your skin. He wasn’t as gentle. Issei clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Did he hurt you? Do these hurt?” They do when he presses his fingers into them, hard, and you wince at the touch.

“Sensitive, huh?” he nods, before connecting his eyes with yours. “Niisan will make it feel better, okay?” And then, with a warning lift of his eyebrow he commands, “Don’t pull away.” His lips on your jaw. They are a bit cold against the irritated skin, dragging down from your face to your collarbones. Despite the sudden development, you feel grateful that he’s so sweet to you. Your big brother really is the kindest person to you, helping you even when you don’t ask for it.

His breath hitches as he buries his face into your skin, his body leaning a lot of his weight into you. It makes you sink under him more, leaning back in an attempt to keep the same distance. If he gets much closer he’ll be on top of you. You don’t know if you want that. “You shouldn’t let him toy with you so much, little sister. He’s too rough with you,” Issei suddenly brings out, biting at the skin above your collarbone ever so softly.

His lips start planting more open mouth kisses on the abused skin, before he finally just grabs your thighs and drags your waist to his knees so that you’re laying under him. You squeak at the sudden move, before he lays his entire body on top of yours, pinning you to the bed. Your breathing is short when you look at him, eyes big. “Niichan, you can’t,” you mumble, “Tooru said only h-he’s allowed to lay on top of me— like t-this.”

Your flustered stuttering is adorable to him, rosy cheeks making his hands come up to cup them. Not only is his body heavy and able to cover you entirely, it’s too warm. His thick thighs press your own down, and there’s a hardness that presses to the inside of your leg like that. You know what it means, it means he feels good. You don’t want to take that away from him, but you don’t feel good right now. “Issei nii,” you whine from under him again, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want you two to fight— he’ll be mad,” you breathe again, looking to the couch that you came from earlier. A rough kiss is pushed to your mouth again, but this time you rebuke a bit harder against Issei’s eagerness and pull away. “Stop, oniichan. Daddy said you two can’t play rough with me anymore.” He listens to you but keeps rocking his center to yours gently anyway. The continued movement of his hips creates a friction that pools heat in your lower belly. You want to give in to the touches, since that’s what your big brother wants, and what they say goes. But the conflicting orders leave you in an insecure limbo.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He coos at your expression, before lifting his body from yours a bit and pushing his crotch to yours better. His lips move back to your marked neck, and true to his word, the warming kisses do work to soothe the pain of the hickeys a bit. Your entire neck is left going hot from his wet, greedy mouthing. When you whine at his blatant ignorance of your words, he smushes his face to your throat. “It’s alright. He won’t know, I won’t tell him.”

The brunet groans as he repeats the soft circular movement a few times more. He brings out a tense breath. “Hey, look at me. Look at me.” You listen so well, big eyes flicking back to his in an instant. He loves you so much that he can’t control himself well, pressing a few desperate kisses to your lips again. “It’ll be okay, I’m doing this because I love you. See?” He lifts his hips then, and you both look at the obvious tent in his sweatpants. “You know what this means, right? I promise it’s okay.” He lifts his entire weight on one of his arms for a moment, to lead your hand onto his clothed cock, squeezing your fingers around him. “Ah,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“Feel okay? You like it?” You let him use your hand to stroke up and down, again and again, as his cheeks color a soft pink. Tooru does this when he lays in your bed often as well, and he always says it’s because you make him feel so good, too. You’re happy to make your big brother feel good, even if you’re not listening well right now. “Oniichan?”

“Yeah, feels perfect,” he breathes back, before taking your hand from him. “Stay like that.” He opens your legs wider, pulling you flush with his waist again, and then lowers himself back onto you. Because he’s so big, he can lean down to kiss you without having to squish you and does so with an eagerness like that of a hungry animal. He bites your lips and parts them with his own, before pressing his tongue back into your mouth, lapping and greedily taking everything he can get. His breath is so hot in your mouth, movements too fast for you to catch up. All the while he moves his hips to yours, rubbing his hard, covered cock against your panties. It feels good, though it makes you feel a bit icky too. When he pulls back a string connects your two mouths.

“You’ve done this before? With Tooru?” If he’s referring to the rubbing, then yes. Tooru doesn’t kiss on your lips as much though, he likes kissing other places instead. You slowly nod at his question, not wanting to elaborate on the whole thing. It makes your brother hum. “With anyone else?” At that you flush, immediately shaking your head. As if Tooru would let anyone outside the family close enough to touch you in the first place. “No? Good. Only your big brothers should get to make you feel good.” His hips don’t still for a moment, rubbing his cock in between your legs up and down, rolling it side to side every so often.

It’s really warm, his body hovering so close to you only keeping the heat smouldering in your chest. And the continued movement too, it’s almost too much for you. Making you delirious. But you can’t say anything, because you don’t want to disappoint your brother. You let him suck at your tongue, bite your throat and shoulders, let him rut his hips into yours until he starts shaking on his arms. The huffs and breaths falling from his lips are soft, meant only for you. “Please,” he faintly whispers, though you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“You love your big brother?”

“Yes, of course!” you mumble at that, looking at the dark spot of his pants that he ruts into you rhythmically. He goes fast now, desperate like an animal in heat, one hand moving to knead at your tit. It’s a steadying move more than anything, his weight making it hard to take full breaths. You whimper softly, before grabbing at his shoulder in an attempt to lighten his weight on your chest. “Stop now, niichan, down there is sticky. It’s enough.” Your underwear is becoming uncomfortable, warm wetness covering your bottom lips. You don’t know when that happened, but as it cools to the room temperature it grinds your panties to your sensitive skin. “Wanna take it off,” you beg.

Your confession makes the older boy choke, looking down between your two bodies at the way his clothed cock ruts into you. “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, not wanting to move. Issei has thought of you like this for years, sneaking kisses and cuddles for as long as he can remember being close to you. But up until now, he’s always been the responsible one. The realist of the family. Yes, he would jack off to the thought of you bent over the table. And yes, he would glare at boys whenever they looked at you with mischievous eyes. But he never let it show this much.

Just minutes earlier, he had convinced himself that as long as his pants were still on, it wasn’t that bad. That only skin to skin would be wrong, would make him as desperate and volatile as your step brother is, but now that idea is suddenly front and center in his mind. It’s so warm, boiling almost. Precum beads through the fabric, the outline of his member is visible easily. It sticks to every dip and vein. “Fuckfuck fuck, just one second.”

It’s impossible to make himself stop, finally finding the courage to have you this way. No, more than that, losing the will to hold back. The want to take you as his becomes more unbearable the longer he drags on. His fingers pinch at your nipple, rolling it under his thumb until it hardens. Your noises are heaven to him. He pants. “Say that you love your big brother.”

“I love my big brother,” you mirror, sweat pooling under your tits as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so confusing. You want him to stop, but your body doesn’t seem to wanna let go. Issei moans loudly, and presses his lips back to yours. Over and over, he’s quivering on top of you, looking both too big for you and incredibly fragile despite it.

“I’m-,” he breathes, before grunting as he lifts his head as far away from you as possible, trying his best to clear his head. But it’s no good. His chest still heaving rapidly, in time with yours. He shakes his head to himself. “Whatever, I’m fucked anyway. Screw it.” He switches his fingers quickly to the other nipple, before shoving the shirt up your body enough to reveal it to him. He latches his lips there, sucking and lapping at the supple skin of your tits. His hot breath cascading over you. “Say it again, say my name,” he says and you oblige.

“Love my big broth-ah- brother Issei.”

He grunts praises into your hair, the arm carrying his weight scooting up a bit so he can lace his fingers in your hair. The other hand moves under your thigh and swings it around his waist, before fumbling with the now drenched cloth being rutted in between your lower lips. He doesn’t stop grinding into you, making it a struggle to pull it to the side to expose you more. But he gets there.

“So fucking pretty,” he moans, looking at his hand as it moves in between the folds of your center like it’s not his own. Your wetness is spread around the sensitive area as he takes a deep breath. “Ah- fucking shit- I’m in love with my little sister. I love my little sister. I love my little sister.” The chant is so faint, you want to pull him close and never let go. You love him too, of course you do. Even in the uncomfortable position, he does his best to slide a finger into you, and a second one.

“Wanna marry you and make you have my babies,” he mumbles out words into you in rapid succession, panting above you with sweat pooling at his hairline. “My bred little slut.” He makes himself grunt with the words, moving his head back to slot in between your neck and shoulder, biting at the skin there. “Mine, mine, mine,” he growls out against you, not letting the skin between his teeth slip until you cry out. That hurt. But the rest really does feel good, like he said it would. He moves his digits in and out in sloppy jerks, too shaky for a controlled movement. Loud squishing sounds fill the room. The rutting is now almost painful in speed and pressure, but in a mind-numbing way. “Say this little sister wants to be fucked by her big brother’s cock,” he begs against your chest, rubbing his face into your tits greedily.

“This little- ah ah ah- this little sister,” you try, his fingers drilling into you too hard to focus on anything, “wants to be fucked by-mhm her- big brother’s cock!” You squeeze out the last words quickly, before pulling the bunched up shirt in between your teeth to keep quiet. It’s a thought far off but the knowledge that your father could come home any second still makes you squirm. You shouldn’t be disobeying. You suckle on the shirt as you let him take advantage of your body, watch your tits being squeezed and your cunt being filled with his fingers with half-lidded eyes. It takes just a split second for Issei to grab at the edge of his sweats and pull it down his thighs enough to expose himself.

He stops his rhythm only to sit back on his heels and push your knees up to your chest, before laying back onto you. His big cock twitches against your leaking cunny as he grabs it at the base, and presses it into you. “God, I’m so fucked,” he brings out with a shivering breath, before pulling at the fabric in your mouth for you to release it. It makes some spit drip from the corner of your lips, covering your chin in wetness. He slowly pushes into your dripping hole, breathing stuttered at the heat of it. “But I only want you, and I want you to only want me.”

You know it to be true even before you can notice the tears welling up in his eyes. He might pass out before he’s in you all the way, he thinks, having just pushed the head in. He’s so fucking shaky. He moves the thick head of his leaking cock in and out a few times. Holding his breath as he slides a bit further each time, until he holds still in you with a loud groan. He takes a moment to breathe, really about to pass out any second. Head spinning.

All his muscles are solid, trembling with the strain. Your glowing heat compared to his skin is heaven. When you cry out softly at the massive stretch, he looks at you and presses one hand to your cheek to rub comforting circles into it. You look so content to be taking him, he feels so loved. So warm, and wanted, you’re so perfect to him. Like you were made just for him. You must sense it, because all of a sudden you smile at him. A soft, accepting sign of happiness that could only happen in this family. “I really love you, Issei,” you say.

Before he knows it, he’s choking up, a few tears rolling down the sides of his face thick and warm, he’s just so happy. “Ngh-ahh, you’re mine, my little girl.” He thrusts in the last half of him into you in one move, not trusting himself to last much longer like this, and immediately pulls out again. Each time he bottoms out in you, you make little noises. His girth drives into your softness slowly at first, filling you out entirely to the brim. It’s a stupidly perfect fit, making your cunt stretch just enough not to be painful, but only just.

“Niichan—”

You let out a stuttering breath when he connects his waist entirely with yours, the snap of his hips stinging pleasurably at your clit. Both already wound up far past your limits. Issei uses the last of his strength to rest all of his weight on his two lower arms where they are next to your head and pumps into you hard, before wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. “I love my little sister,” he admits again, throat tightening. He angles his body to slam into the exact spot to make you numb. “You’re so good to me, so warm.” The bed rattles from the violent movements, and his grunts are in time with every slap of his balls to your ass. “And you’re- ugh- so fucking tight. No one else—” He moans when you dig the nails of your one hand into his back mindlessly. “You’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Your hands sliding higher as you mewl at his thrusts, grabbing onto the soft, shorter hairs at the base of his head. His eyes are closed, frown deep as he does his very best to last in your heat. You lift your butt from the bed to slam back into his thrusts, but honestly are going half brain dead with every snap. All you can do is whimper his name like a prayer, definitely when his thick fingers move to your sensitive clit. He rubs two fingers in tiny circles, thumb pressing beneath it in the same motion over and over, as you cling to him for dear life.

He’s at his limit just as much as you are. The greediest words fall out of his mouth before he can think about them. If he was more conscious of his actions, he’d probably be embarrassed. But you’re so tight, warm, clenching around him like your life depends on it. “Wanna fill my little sister- with my cum. Fuck a- mhm- baby into you. Love you so fucking much.” His thick cock curves into your warmth over and over, hitting high in your belly each time. Your knees bump into yourself as Issei pumps into you with his full weight over your tiny shape, not giving the bundle of nerves any rest.

It’s way too much. “Niichan, I need—” you bite your bottom lip so hard you can taste metal and clench your eyes shut, feeling the coil in your belly tighten until it’s ready to snap. “Please, ‘Ssei,” you beg. You must be pulling his hair so hard it’s dizzying, but you’re way too far gone to care. “Ah- pleaseplease please!”

“Cum on your real niichan’s cock, slutty girl,” he breathes, speeding up his rhythm to a punishing degree. You’re a hair away from coming all over him, and he can feel it too. He holds a breath, before quickly bringing out some more words. “Open your eyes,” he begs, “keep your eyes on me. Wanna see you cum.” You open them to look into his dark brown eyes as best as you can, before you grab hold around his arms and grasp at his shoulders as your building orgasm shoots through you, walls clenching around his cock with a vice-like strength.

Your mouth falls open and you bring out a mess of words, chanting his name as your vision goes white and black marks the edges. Your legs are wrapped around him entirely now, squeezing and shaking from the intensity. While you ride on a high Issei comes too, fingers barely moving anymore, a few thrusts bottoming as he spills hot, white ropes into your cunt. He’s surprisingly quiet, looking at your precious face under him as you come undone.

For a few moments after you’re away from the world, sweating and panting as you cling onto him, before you bury your face in his neck and whimper nothings. He topples onto your body, exhausted, before he wipes his hands on his bed and reaches up to cradle your head. Your legs drop down from him as you catch your breath, the soft lotus scent of his shower gel being the most comforting scent in the world.

When you’re finally back to Earth, you let out a little giggle, and press gently at his shoulders to move him. Way too warm now. Issei groans at your pushy move, but removes himself from on top of you. He might just fall asleep if he lays there any longer. Ever so slowly, he pulls out, pausing to watch the mix of your fluids slowly gush out of your swollen pussy to drip down your body.

He sighs deeply, before smiling at your blissed out face and moving from the bed. It bounces slightly when his weight is removed. “I’m going to go get a towel and some water for you.” He brushes some hair from your face which you gratefully hum agreement to, pulls up his boxers and sweats and walks to the door of the room, before quickly slipping his drenched shirt over his head and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. When he slips out of his room quietly, the lights in the hall are already off. He shuts the door with a glance back at you, noting that you’d most likely be in dreamland by the time he returns, and moves quickly.

Just as he makes it to the bathroom, the door swings open. Tooru gives the taller guy a look, stepping to the side to let him pass. When the hell did he get home? He ignores it and grabs a towel, dunking one half of it under the tap, before grabbing a glass. All under his brother’s watchful eyes where he leans into the doorframe still. As the silence drags on, Tooru just sighs, shaking his head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re messed up, you know that?”

“So are you.” Issei glances over at the other, who crosses his arms over his wide chest.

Tooru only sighs deeply, before moving out of the bathroom, voice lithe but stable in the silence of the house. “If I don’t tell on you for being a sister fucker, you owe me.” Before Issei can respond though, Tooru’s lips pull into a little smile, widening mischievously. “If.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 11)

Snapdragon is unusually snappy today and Mai isn’t sure what it is. She supposes that the girl has to have at least one bad day eventually, Mai just wishes that she knew what was causing her poor mood.

She wonders if someone had discovered her factory and tried to take it from her. Or if one of her brothers had stolen something from her stash. More likely, she considers that someone at the palace had said something to her again, to make her question her hobbies.

The more Mai ponders it, the more she thinks that it is true. Though she continues to shamble up to her nest and acquire more things to toss into her steadily growing trash hoard, the woman’s face is curiously less smudged, and her hands are usually clean. As clean as they can be given that Mohi doesn’t have the sort of water that the palace does.

She finds the woman tucked away into her hoarding nest, fidgeting with a golden ribbon. She wraps it around her pointer, unwraps it, and warps it again. She isn’t sure that Snapdragon is staring at it at all.

“I thought that I’d find you up here.” Mai remarks. “That ladder is getting more unstable.” She shudders.

Snapdragon shrugs. “It’s fine.” Her voice lacks it’s usual spark and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Mai rubs her lips together before ultimately deciding to reach for the woman’s hand. Once she finds it, she feels Snapdragon’s fingers tighten around her own hand.

Quietly, Mai hold’s her hand to Snapdragon’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “The flowers should be here soon so we can open up the shop again.” She isn’t sure if this will cheer her girlfriend up any. “That’s exciting, right.”

She thinks that Snapdragon’s smile is more genuine this time. She nods, “Sounds nice.”

.oOo.

Nice isn’t exactly the word she is looking for, she is actually quite thrilled. Snapdragon does like the flowers and she thinks that Azula does too. They are soothing for Azula where they are joyful for her.

Her head hurts. She supposes that she will have to see which emotion wins out when the time comes.

“What’s going on, Snapdragon? Don’t tell me that those uppity nobles got to you?”

There is a nervous sort of twitching and fluttering in her belly, “what makes you think that something is wrong?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

But that is just it. She is acting like herself. For the first time in so long, she is acting like herself. Just not the self that Mai has grown used to. The self that she, herself has grown used to. “What do you mean?” She asks anyways.

“For one thing, you’re talking differently…”

The fluttering intensifies. For all of her confusion there is certainty. It comes in that Mai can’t know that she knows who she used to be. There is certainty in that Mai would hate her all over again if she found out. She doesn’t want to lose Mai a second time. The fluttering reaches a peak recalling the moment when the woman had drawn her knives, the moment she had been ready to turn them on her. It had hurt the day that it had happened...it is unbearable to think about now. Now, when the hand that had wielded the blades  is gently caressing her cheek in loving little strokes.  

“Where are your dirt smudges?” She traces her fingers along the spots on her cheeks and forehead most prone to mud and grease.

She isn’t sure how to tell Mai that she no longer likes the feeling of dirt smeared on her face and that her skin is crawling now that showers aren’t as regular as they had been at the palace. She thinks for a moment. “I like  how it feels to be clean.” She says.

Mai tilts her head.

“I don’t mind getting dirty but I like smelling nice and feeling clean. My face feels less...stiff.” She replies.

Mai nods, “Have you never taken a bath before you went to the palace?”

Snapdragon thinks on it. And in doing though she thinks that it is safe to say that Snapdragon-Azula has never take a real bath before. She shakes her head. “Unless the lake counts.”

“You haven’t even gone to the communal bathhouses?”

Snapdragon shakes her head. This is another thing that she and Azula share; neither of them enjoy public bathing. Too many eyes, even if they aren’t focused on her. “I don’t like those. The lake is better.”

Mai chuckles. “Alright, I guess that, that makes sense. You’ve never been fully clean before so you didn’t know that it was something that you liked.”

Some of her tension eases away. Perhaps she is overthinking things. Perhaps, even without Azula creeping back in, Snapdragon would have enjoyed being cleaner.

“So what’s bothering you?” Mai asks again.

Snapdragon shrugs. “I just...I don’t feel well.” She makes a note to try to be happier. She will lose Mai if she can’t muster up the same spunk and enthusiasm that Snapdragon had.

“Do you want to stay at the palace again?” Mai offers.

Snapdragon nods. She can use another bath and Mohi could use a break from her antics.

.oOo.

She feels significantly more like Azula when she is wearing her own robes. She feels, perhaps more powerful than Snapdragon has been allowed to feel. Granted she still gets glowers and glares. They still look down upon her. Save for Yora, they don’t want her here. She is a nuisance. A dirty nobody. Inferior.

It makes Azula’s blood boil in a way that Snapdragon had been able to laugh off. It brings color to her cheeks. A sense of shame that she can’t seem to shake. But then, this had bothered Snapdragon too.

“They just aren’t used to people like you.” Yora mentions as she takes a comb to Azula’s locks.

“Uncultured peasants?”

“Kinder souls.” Yora corrects. “People who are easier to be around.” She takes a deep breath. “They are so used to being surrounded by other people who are pampered and spoiled that they don’t know what to do when someone like you comes around. Someone who is fun and carefree.”

Azula wishes that she were fun, carefree, and kind.

“Innocent.” Yora adds. “Though they tend to try to take advantage of innocence here. I like you, Snapdragon. You’re a good person. It is nice to groom someone who isn’t barking orders and particulars.”

She is offended and comforted all at one. She knows that Azula is picky, prone to particulars. And she supposes that she hadn’t been kind about it either. She feels horrible for having banished the one servant who is now being kind to her.

“How is this?” She holds a mirror up for Snapdragon to observe. She has been avoiding them since the return of her memories. And her reflection is now just as jarring as she had anticipating. Jarring because she knows that it is not truly her own. And yet, it is, she has seen it daily for such a long time now. She is both used to this body and disconnected from it. It is familiar and foreign all the same. She knows that she should be looking at a different face. A face that she sees everywhere in the palace but the mirrors. She isn’t sure why Zuko has kept portraits of Azula. Her head hurts all over again.

“It’s nice.” She answers.

“Are you alright?”

“Headache.” She replies simply.

Yora nods, “I’ll take you to the guest room. Unless you’d like to sleep in the princess’ room again. Mai mentioned that it was too open for you?”

She wants to sleep in her own room, “I just need…”

“More pillows than any one person should have a right to use?” Yora quirks a brow.

She nods. Yora has always caught on quick. Snapdragon’s stomach lurches again, the memories are hitting her left and right. They come back suddenly and overwhelmingly. She thinks that it might not be a lie that she is feeling physically ill. At the very least, she is truly feeling dizzy and hazy.

“Yora!” Ami snaps. “You were supposed to be helping with the laundry today. Forget about the commoner and do the job that you were meant to do.”

“I was just going to get her some pillows…”

“Extra pillows  are in the servants quarters, down the make a left and then another left. You’ll see them.” Ami says to Snapdragon. “Get them yourself, Yora has work to get to.”

“Where is Mai?”

The woman scowls. “With the firelord. She doesn’t have time for you. And neither does Yora.”

.oOo.

Snapdragon doesn’t collect her pillows.  She wanders hazily back to her room torn between storming back up to Ami and letting her know who she is dealing with and flopping down on her bed and trying to process everything.

She lingers in front of her bedroom door. She still feels so small standing before it. Perhaps she should go fetch herself the pillows, the nest was rather comforting…

“You must be Snapdragon.”

She tenses. This voice. She knows this voice. And it pulls at strings in her mind. Pulls more memories to the surface. Memories that Snapdragon can’t brush off.

She turns around and nods, “I’m Snapdragon.”

But she isn’t in this moment. In this moment, she is very much Azula.

“My name is Ursa.” She smiles. It is such a warm smile, it makes Azula feel sick and tearry. “Can I help you find something?”

“I was going to get some pillows.”

“I can fetch one of the servants.”

“Yora is busy, apparently.” Azula grumbles.

“Ami?”

Azula nods. Once upon a time, the woman had been her favorite servant…

“Follow me.” Ursa gestures. “You can take as many pillows as you want.”

.oOo.

Her mother is a sweet woman. She helps her perfectly arrange her circle of pillows and blankets. “I used to do this with Zuko all time.”

She had never done so with Azula. She tries to imagine what that would have been like. She shakes her head, she doesn’t have to try to imagine it; “I think that this one would look nice over here.”

Azula almost laughs. The woman is making an art of building pillow nests. Azula almost cries. She has the same inclination to make her pillow nest look prettier, more organized. She moves the pillow to where her mother had suggested. “Perfect.” She says.

Ursa nods in agreement. “I can send fpr Mai and with two cups of hot tea--three if you don’t mind me staying. I don’t think that a pillow nest is complete without tea and a story.”

“Do you have a story?”

“Many of them?”

Both Azula and Snapdragon want a story, even if it is for different reasons. Azula wants what has been deprived from her for so long and Snapdragon simply loves exciting tales.

.oOo.

For a moment apprehension leaves Azula. With candles to softly light the room and tea to warm her throat, she is comfortable. Very much so. She snatches up one of her pillows and hugs it to her chest as Mai props herself up against her.

Her mother smiles. It might be the one thing that Azula has done that she approves of. And perhaps it is only because she is looking at Snapdragon. Snapdragon who stirs excitedly when storytime begins. It takes her to a new place in her mind. A place with dragons and adventure. Though she supposes that her whole life has been an adventure, especially now that Snapdragon had taken control.

By Agni, she just hopes that Azula can keep the love and spirit that Snapdragon has.

She clutches Mai as tightly as she clutches the pillow. She isn’t sure how long she will be able to do so. She just knows that she can’t let go yet. She can’t lose Mai again. “Now this is more like my Snapdragon.” She hears Mai mutter.