#i slightly edited a couple of the prompts to fit better but i am Pleased with this eheh

[repressionmd]

hilson drabble with prompts 19, 39, 50 and 68 (from this post) requested by the lovely @ferretwhomst !!! 758 words :) set post s7 finale!

prompts in order of appearance [wildcard] 39 - "That's a new low for you." 50 - "Aren't you happy to see me?" 19 - "Don't say another word." 68 - "Seems like you have to sleep here tonight."

Wilson trailed into his apartment, looking blankly around at the familiar, but cold, place he called home.

39 nights since House disappeared. Since all the rest of that stupid fallout, since Cuddy quit, since Wilson forced himself to hate the man he thought he loved.

It was a new low, really, and Wilson didn't have to try very hard to hate him at first. It was keeping up with it that hurt. It was walking through hallways ignoring the pitying looks as nurses saw his bandaged wrist, it was House's office being shut down and orthopaedics jumping at the opportunity. It was the gossip mill that seethed and grumbled and aired all their griefs as if any of it fucking mattered. Often, he didn't know how to feel, but anger was a good starting point.

He opened the fridge, ready to stare listlessly at leftovers and empty shelves before ordering takeaway, as was custom on these dreary nights. Instead, he blinked. Rubbed his eyes, thinking it must be some exhaustion-fueled hallucination. No, his fridge was genuinely fully stocked. The lowest shelf, on closer inspection, was stocked with labelled meals - pasta, rice, pie.

Everything sorted the way he liked it, too. And he knew that fucking handwriting.

"House!"

Wilson stared seething into the fridge and listened for mere moments before hearing the tap-tap of House's cane.

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

Wilson sighed. Shut the fridge, encasing the apartment in darkness (because he had gotten used to navigating without the lights on) and didn't turn around.

"Why- what are you doing here?"

"Was in the area. Figured I'd pop in."

"House, you're a fucking fugitive. You know if someone finds me with you - and you're not exactly inconspicuous with that cane!" He couldn't think clearly, his heart felt fit to burst with emotion.

"I know."

Now he turned around, walking straight to jab a finger into House's chest. "That's your problem! You know exactly what would fuck someone over, and you do it anyway, because you're a stupid, selfish bastard-"

He stopped himself, meeting House's hurt eyes. Thought about the food in the fridge. Took in what felt strange about his apartment - it was cleaner. House looked horrible, haunted in the streetlight drifting in through the window. Wilson heard his own breathing, ragged and fast, and heard House's - for the first time in 39 days.

"I-"

"Don't say anything." Wilson didn't want to say anything. Fuck, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. They stayed like that, Wilson's hand on House's chest, locked in eye contact more intense and searching than Wilson had ever participated in.

House broke the silence, voice low and barely above a whisper. "I'm just passing through. Got a- thing for tomorrow, but I don't have anywhere to stay tonight."

Wilson wanted to curse it all. Wanted to say Take me with you, wanted to march House down to the police station, wanted to cry and beg for the old times again. Instead, he stepped forward. House didn't move back.

He cried most of the way through their first kiss, and their second, and their third, and he laughed as House stumbled through the threshold of his bedroom, eyes restless and sick with wanting, and he held House so desperately at one point he knew he would leave bruises. If they only got one night, Wilson wasn't going to let House forget anytime soon. House didn't hold back either, kissing all over Wilson's bare skin, and it seemed they both had the same idea.

Wilson didn't know what time it was when the frenzy dimmed to a quiet afterglow. House's head by his neck, Wilson's hand on House's heart.

"Seems like you should probably sleep here tonight."

"Yeah, I doubt I'll even be able to walk after that." Then, after a beat, "Thank you."

Wilson didn't answer. Neither of them slept much, both silently taking in the night, till it turned to dawn and light filtered in, and Wilson counted down the minutes on his alarm clock he had retrieved at some point. He saw House staring at it too.

6am struck, and the magic had to end.

House stared up at the ceiling, still curled up against Wilson's chest.

"Do this again sometime?"

Wilson didn't meet House's gaze. Didn't answer, instead moving off the bed to have a shower. From the door, he said without looking at House, "If only we could."

When Wilson got out of the shower, House wasn't home. No point stifling sobs in an empty apartment.

[koinotame]

\o/

hi! it's me, nana / koinotame!

if you're wondering why i went inactive and then deleted, my mental health kind of (really) tanked... and i ended up deleting my blog in a fit.

it's getting better bit by bit though! and i've been wanting to get back into writing (and talking abt my unhinged/yan ideas i can't really talk to anyone else abt), so. here i am! for now, at least

as for my previously posted writing, there's some good news and some bad news: the bad news is that everything i wrote directly into tumblr (99% of snippets, a lot of ask answers, most exact content warnings, etc) is gone. the slightly less bad news is that iirc there were very very few posts of mine that weren't reblogged by anyone at all, so they're probably still out there? feel free to send them my way if you find any and i'll rb them. @/midnight-remembrance also has reblogged a couple of them! there's a couple snippets i have saved in some places, so i might repost those on my own as i find them, but there's very few of those. the good news is that anything longer (proper writing — oneshots, hcs, yan alphabet responses and so on, prompt responses, etc) is safely backed up where i originally wrote it! some of it is also on my ao3, which is the same username. feel free to send me asks about any you'd like to see again and i'll repost them! i might not post them if i feel too embarrassed about/wish i hadn't posted them, and i might rewrite/heavily edit some of them, but i think there's only a handful that fall into the former category and none of them were particularly popular. either way, no harm in asking!

as for some other updates: i'm a little divided on whether i want to keep posting explicit nsfw or not so we'll see. i might just keep it out of main tags. idk yet. regardless of what decision i make, this blog is still strictly 18+ and that will not be changing. since we can reply from sideblogs now, this is a sideblog and not my main now. why? sometimes i prefer to check up on a blog frequently instead of following them for a couple of reasons, but this felt very awkward when they were following me. so this being a sideblog relieves a bit of that stress. if this makes it sound like i have severe brain worms, it's because i do. to that effect though, if we interact every so often feel free to consider us mutuals regardless of whether or not i'm actually following you =w=b tbh i.............. am not really into genshin anymore. i might post about it here and there but i just Do Not (really) Care about it anymore. scara aside to some degree i also have no clue what's going on post inazuma lol whatever projects or commitments to writing or etc i had made beforehand. i forgot all of them so just pretend that never happened ok? ok i'll also probably be posting more sparsely, but we'll see! and (this is obviously the most important bit) i have no clue where i put the mika edit so we're back to my og classic pfp. the header scales terribly and is temporary, please ignore that too

all that aside, as a treat for anyone who sees this in time,

*roughly 6/22 done, but fairly quick to write. roughly one paragraph per character (sneak peek line: "it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that.") **more realistic isn't quite the right word(s)... probably won't post this one to the main tags regardless. won't be doing all of the characters (only important/relevant ones) and won't be writing more about/expanding on, so this one is just like. a one off experiment sort of thing. overall less violent than most takes on the au + leans a bit (or lot, depending on how you look at it) more on the religious aspect of self aware aus. i wrote a couple paragraphs a while ago, then rewrote them, but i'll only finish/post them if there's interest for it (sneak peek line: "aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace.")

i have one other new thing immediately ready for posting that'll get posted in a couple of days but that one's pretty silly

[k3rm1e]

cuddling headcanons! ★~(◡﹏◕✿)

this is more of a test thing to see if i like writing this way and if this blog does well

other imagines and headcanons won't include everyone i write unless it is specifically requested and is a prompt i really like

includes: wilbur nihachu karljacobs quackity dream georgenotfound sapnap p!tommyinnnit p!badboyhalo p!skeppy p!eret p!philza p!tubbo p!ranboo

cw: cursing

wilbur:

wilbur is a very cuddle-y guy

to me he seems very soft

i always see people saying he would like spooning, but i disagree

i feel like he would do more of a half-spooning thing with his head on your chest or the other way around

mans would DEFINITELY make you run your fingers through his hair

i feel like he would lay on your chest and just *nuzzle* into the space between your shoulder and neck

anytime you tried to leave him, whether it was because he had to do something or you had to, he would whine. so. fucking. much.

It would probably always go something like:

you - i need to piss

wilbur - no <3

but the moment he decides its time to stop cuddling its fine

and if you complain that you’re gonna miss him he’ll just call you clingy and tease you

like??? sir???

all in good fun though, no bad intentions :)

nihachu:

i feel like you and niki would face each other

with your head like under her chin and in her chest (this is a bad description but look at the “honeymoon hug” on the list for better explanation ;-;)

she would always want to protect you

so she does that by like almost guarding you and keeping you close

niki would definitely do the arm thing where she just lightly moves her hand up and down you arm

i’m so sorry if you don't understand that, it just feels like something she would do

if you haven't experienced that it kinda sorta feels like spiders??? but in a good way???

but generally she is very protective

she just holds you so close the whole time

even if she doesn’t want to let you go, she’s more understanding about it

she would be upset but wouldn’t show it because she doesn’t want to make you feel guilty

niki is generally just an amazing cuddle-r (is that a word?) and has a super comforting presence

karljacobs:

karl would definitely keep your head on his chest

the whole time he would just absolutely squeeze the life out of you

he would constantly bend his neck down to kiss your head

and instead of just like leaving his head down so he could kiss you it would just be:

*inner monologue karl* hmmm i wanna kiss them on their head

and he would lean down to do so which, cute

but then five seconds later he would do it again

and again another five seconds later

and again

very cute karl but please sir, your neck is gonna be so messed up after this

when you had to leave he would be upset, but like niki, would try not to show it

except karl is very bad at that and his pouting would be so obvious

so you would feel guilty and layback down with him

immediately he just becomes (●´ω｀●)

like a happy little puppy

karl is just too adorable for you to deny

quackity:

now we all know this, quackity is a huge dork

which is why i believe he would DEFINITELY use your butt as a pillow

not even in a weird way

i just feel like quackity isn’t too comfortable with touch so this is sorta his way of being close to you without it being a whole serious thing

like he still is able to be goofy and comfortable without it being a whole big thing

him doing this would almost always come with a flatty patty joke from you

which always causes him to threaten divorce, even though you aren’t married

while it isn’t a very good position for things like physical touch, it is good for talking and having conversations

for some reason i feel like he’s the type of person to text someone when they’re right next to each other

so while he’s laying down he’ll just send you random photos of himself

very annoying when your phone is spammed, but also good blackmail material >:)

i don’t think he’d be too clingy

obviously, he enjoys spending time with you

but if you told him you need to go do work or something he wouldn’t throw a fit or pout

big q just seems like he’d be more rational about stuff like that

overall a 420/69 cuddle partner

dream:

one word: spooning

mans just envelops you and has no shame

very big: “no you are mine! >:(“ energy

while he’s sleeping he’ll unconsciously nuzzle his head into your hair/the back of your neck

when you guys got to bed patches usually climbs in and you hold her

i love patches so much i could write headcanons just about her

dream always wants to be cuddling you

if you try to leave he won’t pout, there simply isn't a discussion on whether you’re moving or not

incase you haven’t caught on yet, the answer is no

you need to do work? just bring the laptop to bed

he needs to edit? just sit in his lap at his desk, duh

obviously, he knows at some point you guys need to stop cuddling

he just isn’t too stoked about it

when it comes time where he absolutely can’t cuddle with you, i feel like he’d be more chill

mainly just annoyed

georgenotfound:

i feel like george, like quackity, also wouldn’t be too touchy

i’m pretty sure he has a hard time expressing emotions (please correct me if i’m wrong!!) and i think that would crossover to his sleeping habits

i think he would prefer a sort of back-to-back cuddling position

it seems cold, i know

but also he would most definitely kick at you

so every night while trying to go to sleep suddenly you would just feel *kick*

and then instead of sleep you’re suddenly playing footsie

lots of laughter and warm feelings involved

george would probably pretend that you kicked his leg hard or something and act like you hurt him

the first few times you were actually worried

but then after a few months your only response was a sarcastic “cry about it”

which just led to more laughter

sapnap:

sapnap and you would do a sort of leg hug thing

you both you try to go to sleep in a cute spooning-type position

but the moment one of you fell asleep it all unraveled

you would wake up apart but you’re legs would still be touching

sapnap would joking blame it on you

“wow can’t believe you don't wanna be close with me even when we’re asleep”

“it’s not my fault! i can’t control where i end up when i sleep!”

“no, no. you don’t have to lie. i see how it is.”

“>:(“

but it's okay!

your legs are the first thing to react in a flight-or-fight situation, so they usually react in an honest way

which is like your legs are both reaching to hold each other!

p!tommyinnit:

i don’t get a very touchy vibe from tommy

i feel like the most he would do is put his arm over your shoulder

not in a flirty way, just in a “hey, there isn’t a lot of space, this will make sitting down more comfortable” way

he will let you sorta fidget with his hand/arm

i don't know if that makes sense but what i mean is that he’ll pretty much let his arm go *flop* so you can control it (by like moving it around or playing with his fingers)

in the beginning he would get annoyed

but eventually he would get used to it and wouldn’t really care

it sounds a bit strange but i personally find it very comforting to just have something to fidget with while watching youtube or netflix in bed with my friends

and it’s entertaining (sometimes i do this to me sister to annoy her :>)

he would act like he didn’t mind if you left him

but holy shit he is so clingy

If you try to leave it’ll just be “no, why??? stay here dumbass”

you would be slightly annoyed when he had to leave  but knew he had to film and stream and all that so you would be okay

p!badboyhalo:

you would kinda sit within bad’s lap

like not on his lap, but more of in between his legs

he would have his arms around you

and his phone would be in front of you so you two could scroll through twt or instagram together

or you guys could watch skeppy’s youtube ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

rat would sit in your lap

she’s just;;;;;;;; so adorable

rat is just so soft and fuzzy in your lap and everytime you move to pet her she just melts

rat is the the superior cuddle buddy to any of these block people

p!skeppy:

skeppy, similar to quackity, is a total dork

he would make sure you guys were in a position where he could effectively troll you

so if your head was near his lap he would just flick you or some

“dude can you please stop hitting me in the head”

“it turns out i am not actually hitting you in your head because based on the perpendicularity of the bisector multiplied by the photosynthesis of the dividend, it is impossible for me to do so”

“wtf”

lya is so goddamn sick of you guys

she's trying to get him to actually do something but instead he’s just sitting there throwing paper airplanes at you while you sleep

he’s an annoying asshole but it's okay because he gives you money for absurd reasons

p!eret:

eret has such a comfortable presence

i feel like she wouldn’t be up for cuddling too much

more of like putting your head on a friends shoulder so you can see the tweet their showing you

but they do like to hold hands

holding hands isn’t very intimate but it's also just such a sweet comforting thing

she even holds your hand when you guys are out walking around

like if you guys were getting food somewhere (post-covid of course)

you most likely would get addressed as a couple

and he would just be like”...wut?”

it’s happened so many times at this point you just go along with it

“you guys look like such a cute couple!”

“oh we aren't-” “thank you!”

can you tell that i love eret?

p!philza:

phil always has such dad vibes

i feel like the closest he would get to cuddling is hugs and hand holding

even though cuddling isn’t inherently romantic, he is married to kristen

so i fell he would get most of his touch in with her

but with you he’s just so fatherly

hello dadza

whether you have a good or bad relationship with your father, everyone can admit that philza minecraft is dadza

this is such a dad thing, but tries to hold you hand when you cross the street

no matter the age, he just feels the need to protect you

hugs are similar

uses hugs as a way to comfort you and protect you

just so amazing all around

p!tubbo:

tubbo would love cuddling in any way, shape, or form

if you guys are hanging out at like the park or something and lying down

get ready to become this mans pillow

this is really fun to do with your friends but imagine you guys are hanging out in a field type area (with my friends we hand out in the field next to the cemetery but it can be any open grass area)

tubbo would just use your lap as a pillow the whole time

and when you guys were walking back to his house he would sorta drape his arms over your shoulders (assuming he’s taller than you)

he would do the same thing when you guys were sitting in chairs or at a desk

just drapes his arms over your shoulder with his chin on your head

if it's really late and he's tired he’ll just hug you

p!ranboo:

if you thought tubbo is bad, ranboo is even worse

not even really cuddling, he just likes having a sort of skin-to-skin contact

so handholding and laying on top of eachother

if he’s streaming he will legitimately message ou to just sit next to him

so sometimes if he’s just chilling by himself on the smp you’ll end up on his streams

he’ll have you next to him just because he likes be near someone

and so randomly it’ll just be like “chat, a real human is here, behave”

chat does not behave

(they heavily bully him)

he’s pretty clingy but when you HAVE to leave he’ll understand and just be a bit bummed out

holy shit this took me so long-

if you read this whole thing thank you!

[chloelucia13]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Steve Harrington x platonic!Henderson!reader, Jonathan Byers x reader (mentioned)

Prompt: After Jonathan had abandoned you so he could go god-knows-where with Nancy, you found comfort in the boy who had also been ditched and a beautiful friendship began to bloom.

Warnings: this is some nice comforting fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst, some language, pretty chill

A/N: So this is a sort of deleted scene that I couldn’t fit into the Stranger Things rewrite, but I felt like it was still important to the character development with the reader and Steve, so I’m deciding to post it separately. You don’t need to read the whole rewrite in order to understand the plot (it’s based in season 2, so if you haven’t watched it then there will be some spoilers), but I would appreciate it a lot if you did read my rewrite! As always, requests and tag lists and my inbox are all open!

“Y/N, hey!” a voice shouted to your right, prompting you to turn your head and look at who was speaking.

Steve rushed over to you, his backpack hanging on one shoulder and a couple of crinkled papers held in his hand.

You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion, stopping at the side of the hallway and waiting for him to catch up. “Hey, Steve,” you drawled out, slightly confused by his presence.

Steve had sat at the bleachers with you that day after both of you had been ditched. Steve was ditched by Nancy and you by Jonathan, both of whom were now attached at the hip.

It was nice to talk to Steve about everything that was going on and, frankly, it was nice just to have someone there. You two seemed to have more in common than you once thought, and though some of that common ground was the fact that you both were abandoned by the person you loved, it was still something.

However, you thought that lunch was it. It was surprising that Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins himself, wanted to spend time with you.

"What’s your next class?” he asked, nervously shifting from one foot to the next. 

“It’s, uh, English. Why?” You tugged on the strap of your backpack.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to help me with something?”

A look of hesitation washed across your face for a moment. “I don’t know, Steve. I really can’t miss class-”

“Please? I just need help on this essay for my college applications and I have no one else woh can help me. I just... Please?”

You let out a sigh, glancing around as you mulled it over in your mind. “I... I guess. Should we just go to the library and rent out a study room?”

He let out a sigh of relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you so much. And I already did.”

“Oh, so you were planning on me saying yes?” You squinted at him and tilted your head.

Panic crossed over his features. “No-no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Steve, I’m kidding. Chill out.” 

He let out a chuckle, nodding as the two of you began to walk to the library. His actions were clearly fueled by anxiety, with his shifting gaze and his hands constantly going in and out of his pockets.

“Why are you so nervous around me?” you asked, glancing up at him as the two of you stepped through the entryway to the library.

“What do you mean?” he scoffed. “I’m not nervous.”

You arched an eyebrow at his response, falling behind his step so he could lead you to the study room he reserved. “You’re fidgeting and you won’t look me in the eye. You weren’t acting like this earlier at lunch.”

He pushed the door open and waited for you to step inside before he also entered the room, closing the door behind him. A small sigh left his lips as he set the papers down on the table. “I don’t know, maybe... I guess I’m just not used to spending time with anyone other than Nancy. Especially when other people see me.”

You gave him a sympathetic look and nodded, sitting down at one of the chairs and taking the papers in your hand. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous around me. You know that. I’m not exactly some cool person that you have to act perfect around.”

Once again, he scoffed. “You are a cool person.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you searched in your bag for a pen. “Come on, Steve. I’m already helping you with your essay, you don’t need to butter me up.”

He sat in the chair next to you. “But you are cool. You don’t give a fuck what people think about you, and I think that’s pretty damn cool.”

You sighed, beginning to scribble a few notes on the paper. “If only you knew, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“God, I care so much about what people think about me all the time. It’s exhausting.”

He was silent for a moment, watching you mark the paper as he thought. “Do you care about what other people think about you, or do you care what Jonathan thinks about you?”

You were about to argue with him, but once you realized that he was right, your mouth shut. Instead, you lifted your pen from the paper. “Did someone else edit this already? There’s pen all over it.”

He stiffened awkwardly in his chair, his lips pursing into a fine line. “Nancy was, uh... She was helping me out with it. Until, ya know, everything happened.”

You nodded slowly, slipping the cap on the pen before setting it down on the table. “But why are you having me check the draft that Nancy already checked?”

He let out a sigh, a hand combing through his hair as he stared at all of the markings on the paper. “I think Nancy wasn’t being honest with me about it. I thought that you would be more blunt about what you think about it.”

You searched his expression, leaning back in your chair and taking the papers in your hands. “You want me to be honest about it?”

He gave you a nod. “Please.”

A heavy breath fell past your lips. “Steve, it’s awful.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Geez, at least sugarcoat it a little!”

“You told me you wanted me to be honest!”

His mouth opened so he could retaliate, but no words came out. Instead, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What-What’s wrong with it?”

“It... It just seems very disingenuous. Shallow.”

“What’s shallow about it?”

“You wrote about a basketball game for one of your biggest struggles that you’ve overcome.”

“And then I said it was like how my Grandpa fought in the war! That’s genuine and powerful!”

You stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. “At least you’re pretty, Steve.”

“Okay, fine. What should I have done instead?”

“Steve, we’ve fought literal monsters. There has to be more to talk about than a basketball game.”

“But I can’t write about that. Can you imagine how crazy they’ll think I am?”

“That’s just an example. We’ve gone through a lot this past year. There has to be something from that time that you can write about.”

He nodded, silently thinking over what had happened in the past 12 months. “Do you think that leaving your bad friends and becoming a better person is a good example of overcoming a struggle?”

You gave him a kind smile. “Absolutely.” You crumpled up the papers you had in your hands and tossed them in the trash can before pulling out a few clean pieces of looseleaf paper and sliding them over to him. “Let’s get an outline going. What made you realize that you should change?”

He thought for a moment, a sad look settling on his features. “Last year. I uh... I did something really mean to Nancy.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “What do you mean? What happened?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flashing from left to right as if he was reading from a script, when in reality he was trying to find the right words to say. “After Nancy had ditched me for Jonathan, Tommy and Carol thought that it would be funny if I spray painted ‘Nancy the slut Wheeler’ on the marquee sign at the theater. So I did it.” He risked a glance over at you, noticing the look of disappointment on your face that you failed to disguise. “Nancy and Jonathan saw it, and it escalated.”

His words slowly sank in, and your eyes widened in realization after a few moments of silence. “That’s why you were all beat up? Because Jonathan fought you?”

Steve nodded, his lips pursing closed as he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” Again, he nodded. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I can say that you’ve gotten a lot better. And ditching Tommy and Carol definitely helped a lot.”

“So should I write about that?”

It was your turn to nod, a kind smile on your face. “Absolutely. Should we get started?”

He mirrored your smile, leaning forward and pulling a pencil from his backpack. “Let’s do it.”

[fallinfl0wers]

May request prompt

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love." Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL

For Haruka from i7 please?

7. “Even if we’re far apart, I’ll keep singing for you with all my love.” Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL from the lyric prompt list! thank you for your request!! i love haruka so so so much, he's my favorite character in i7! >< also! i'm trying a slightly new format that i'll be aplying to my future posts! i'll also start editing the old ones just beause,, yeah i think it looks cute. the colored letters aren't part of the format, but i felt like they fit here so lol on a slightly sadder note, the first draft of this got deleted on accident and i had been sulking about it for a while but lol here we are warnings: gn reader, light hurt/comfort, fluff, long-distance relationships, set sometime in the future of i7's story, though this is pretty much fluff without plot,,, word count: 1623 words

"Up next are Natsume-san and Isumi-san, three minutes!" the voice of a staff member makes him look up from the screen of his phone, where he had been aimlessly scrolling down on his SNS while the hairstylists did his hair.

"Yeah, understood." He answers, putting his phone down on the table as a makeup artist retouches his makeup.

The young idol then walked alongside his unitmate to enter the dark stage, adjusting his in-ear monitor as he sat down on the chair preppared for him beforehand, surrounded by the expectant, excited whispers of the audience who waved their lightsticks in support for their favorite idols. Scanning the audience with his eyes, he clutched his microphone.

The spotlights landed on the two idols as the music started to play and they could hear the cheering of their fans before they quieted down, in order to hear their singing.

"I wandered, lost in my loneliness like a desert without roads."

Haruka Isumi didn't need anyone at his side to be the best, everyone will just drop him the moment the next shiny, newest toy appears in front of them. At least, that's what his experience had taught him.

"There, a single, tiny flower became the melody of love."

Then everything happened. ZOOL happened. But more importantly, you happened.

He, who didn't care for almost anything anymore, became infatuated with you. He fell in love with you, who always looked at him and appreciated him, you, who always supported him and never laughed at him.

"My tears suddenly fell, shaking the green leaves."

You, who helped him through each and every one of his worst moments and were there to laugh with him during his best moments, you, who were both his best friend and his dear, dear lover.

"Wow, 'the weaker you become...'"

You, who always supported him on his dreams and were the first one to congratulate him on everything he achieved.

You, who he was now supporting as you walked to your own dreams.

You, who were walking towards your dreams, far, far away from him.

"(So, don't look back)."

"'...the kinder...'"

You, who he hoped woke up earlier than usual today just to see him singing live even if it was through a computer.

"(Sharing, big love)."

"'...you'll become.' Your gentle warmth taught me that."

You, who taught him everything he knew about romantic love, who showed him that there was more to people than hatred and betrayal. So warm and gentle, you always made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

But you're not next to him, not anymore. Not physically, at least.

But, that's alright. It hurts, it hurts so much and it makes him anxious constantly even if he'd never admit it out loud. But that's alright.

"Like the falling rain, we are not alone."

That's alright, even if it hurts and it brings scary, unwanted thoughts into his mind, it's alright. It's alright, because he knows you're doing what you love just like he is.

And it's alright, because he's not the weak, arrogant crybaby he was when you met. He's stronger now, he has grown up, he's mature. He can handle this. He can keep this going. He can support you without crying every night for your absence.

"Beneath this wide sky, even if you're on the other side of the world, I'm thinking--"

"--of you again today."

It's alright, because he knows you've grown up as well, he knows neither of you is a stupid, oh so stupid and inexperienced highschooler like when you first met. He knows, you both can be stronger than this distance.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"Look, the crescent moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

He knows this, and still...

He can't help but get worried, sometimes.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"I want to envelop everything..."

He can't help but worry that you'll get tired of this. Tired of him always being busy, of your schedules never matching, of how he still has to keep you as a secret to protect you from the tabloids and his crazed fans. Worry that you might find someone who has less trouble giving affection, someone who can love you better than him.

Though all his worries wash away, everytime you send him a picture of his newest merchandise that just arrived to your apartment and a cute stamp through RabbitChat at ungodly hours for him, followed by the usual voice note saying 'i love you'.

He knows you have your own fears about it all, as well. But he's told you, over and over again, without ever feeling annoyed, that he only has eyes for you, no matter how many pretty actresses and idols try to snatch him away, the only person he loves in that way is you and only you.

There has never been anyone else but you inside his heart.

You're the only one Haruka wants to spend his whole life with, the only one who can fully understand him and love him.

"...Just as the gentle wind loves the sea..."

And no matter how longer you may have to be apart, how many people you both will meet and how many worries there will be in between before you can next meet again, he wants to and will make sure to remind you daily that he loves you and will love you until he takes his last breath.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love."

He lifts his gaze to look at the camera with a content sparkle hidden in his eyes, once his next line comes around.

"I wish you--"

("I got a scholarship to finish my college studies overseas, Haruka!" You told him a couple years ago.)

"--happiness."

("I'll be here waiting for you to comeback when you're ready." He called your name that night at the airport, hugging you close before you took off.)

"This seed of happiness that I touched exists to protect the person I love."

("It must be hard for you, isn't it? You don't need to call me every day if you're too tired to do it. I can wait for as long as you need.")

"Our words dissolve in the twilight."

("Nonsense! I... am, tired, but! You must be tired too, right? Get some rest, I'll hang up if you promise you're going to rest too!")

"That seed of happiness that you touched reaches out to someone I don't know."

("I saw that selfie you posted with those two from ainana, I'm so happy to see you really have friends!" "Why did you even doubt that?!" "I worry about you, since I can't see you everyday and all that...")

"Because the circle of love that connects us lights up tomorrow."

("I miss you." "I know, I miss you too." "Let's try to meet during my summer break?" "I already told you, didn't I? I can wait for as long as you need, dummy.")

"Look, it has started to rain."

("Isn't it almost midnight there? Go to sleep." "But I wanna talk more with you..." "You're so hopeless... Go on, sleep, I'm not going anywhere until you sleep." "Hehehe, can I get a lullaby from you before I sleep?" "There's no helping it, right? You really get needy when it's late at night." "But you love anyway, so it works out...~")

"I want to envelop everything, Shadow."

("...Yeah, I love you.")

"Today's live was amazing, Haruka!" Your voice tells him through the phone while he layed down on his bed, late at night in his timezone. "Everyone was so cool, but you were the coolest! The whole time you were on screen I was all like 'Yes this is my boyfriend just look at him go he's so amazing!!!'"

He chuckled at your words, a loving gaze softening his gaze while he listened to your voice.

"I know, right? Praise me more, praise me more~ But only after you tell me, did you sleep early yesterday to wake up early today?"

"I totally did! I wouldn't miss one of your shows if I can help it!"

Though most of the times you couldn't.

He still felt his heartbeat race up at your support.

"You're so cute, did you know that?"

"Eh-? Why tell me that all of a sudden?!"

"Because..." He yawned. "I want to." You went silent for a second, before speaking again.

"You're tired, aren't you? You should go to sleep..."

"No... wanna talk to you more..."

He can already hear your tender smile just from your words alone.

"Go ahead, Haruka. You did well today, you deserve some rest."

"Do I get a lullaby from you to sleep?"

You chuckled.

"Yeah, of course. You are so needy when it's late at night..."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I know, I know."

He smiles, hearing you giggle through the phone.

"I wish I could hold you until you fell asleep right now... But since I can, you'll have to do with me singing my new favorite song for you~"

"'s okay, I like your voice. I'd listen to your voice the whole day if you wanted me to."

"Then... I'll start..." You cleared your throat, and he couldn't help but smile to himself again when he heard the lyrics of his duet song with Minami.

You're not a singer like he is, and you of course haven't trained your voice for as long as he has, he knows that and he still loves the sound of your singing voice.

He drifts off to sleep with your voice as his lullaby, and he knows you both hold true to the lyrics for as long as you need to.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love...~"

[wouldpollyapprove]

All War Can Touch

Request: hiya, please can i request an angsty tommy with the prompts 9, 11 and 18 x 

hiya, please can i request a one shot in which the reader is tommy's wife before the war and like they have a couple of kids but in season 1 he meets grace and shit goes down for real? xx

Requested by @i-volunteer-for-finnick & Anonymous

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: neglect, language, pregnancy, alcohol

A/N: I must warn you guys, I didn’t do much editing for this. I was lazy and didn’t want to. @nemesis729 went over it for me and I’m grateful for that. If it’s trash, that’s my fault cause I know I should have edited. But that’s effort. Anyway, I will have the second part out shortly because I can’t seem to write oneshots anymore, they always have to have a second part cause I’m too lazy to write one long fic.

Masterlist 

Part Two / Part Three

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Tommy stated, kissing his wife on the cheek before he slid out of the booth in the private room, an action that had become rare since he’d returned from war. A foot out the door and his wife’s voice, no more than a whisper, hit his ears. With a sigh, he turned back to face her, rolling his eyes. “What was that?”

Looking up from her nails, Y/n shrugged, “Nothing, dear.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorway, not intending to leave until she spoke her peace. “Why are you lying?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy. Go get our drinks,” she waved him away, hoping he would drop the subject. But as he was a Shelby, he couldn’t do that.

“No, tell me what you said.” His face held no expression, features flat and tight, but his eyes… they held a storm. There was a storm of anger and hate brewing in them, the rain that would pour from the clouds was full of hurt, but Y/n couldn’t understand why. She was the one that deserved to have that storm brewing inside her. She was the one that had been walked all over. 

Mirroring his stance, arms crossed over her chest, she huffed. “Fine, you want to know what I said?” Her husband nodded, irritated that she was taking her time. “I said, ‘Your girlfriend can get them for us.’” Her words were bitter as they rolled off her tongue. 

Tommy was unfazed, simply rolling his eyes in response. Y/n wasn’t sure what reaction she wanted, but that wasn’t it. “Don’t do this here,” he groaned.

“Why not? It’s either here or in front of our children, which would you like? Your bitch to know she may have you after all or your children to know they live in a broken home? Which do you want, Tommy?”

The man rolled his eyes, hand falling to his side, and he stepped out into the bar. Composing herself, Y/n stood and flattened the wrinkles out of her dress. She wasn’t going to have a drink with him, the man that once loved her, when he spent most of his time eyeing the barmaid. Instead, she grabbed her coat, resting her hat snugly against her head and stepped out of the room. 

“I hope you know, not answering my question, answers it,” she called to him as she walked to the door, not willing to look back to see he didn’t even glance her way.

Y/n wanted to go back in time. To a time before the war, when they were just to young lovers who smiled at the world. She wanted to go back to her husband that would bring her flowers and dreamt of building his family a cottage. Desperately, she wanted to grasp her hands on the fabric of that man’s tie, the man that spent his nights at home, rocking his children to sleep and dancing with the love of his life, and keep him tucked away from the war.

The war… that’s what had done this.

The fucking war came knocking on their door and Tommy, an hounerable man, couldn’t pass up the fight. Leaving his children and wife behind, he became a new man, one that was unrecognizable at heart. Though he looked older, his heart was black and his mind was broken. That’s what war did, it broke the strong, Y/n knew. But she never thought it would tear her family apart in the most unexpected way.

Sitting across from Polly in the parlor, Y/n could hear her children playing in the next room. Ben was giving his sister orders as they played with their toy horses, the ruckus echoing throughout the house. A smile tugged at her lips, but she was in no mood to give into it.

“Did you tell him?” Polly asked, pouring tea into the cups that sat at the coffee table. Y/n shook her head, taking one of the cups in her hand. “You’re going to have to tell him soon, dear. Tommy’s a smart man, he’ll put it together.”

Shaking her head, she leaned against the back of the chair, resting her head against the soft fabric. The woman across from her followed her movement, waiting for her to look her in the eye but Y/n couldn’t. She couldn’t look Polly in the eye, the woman who was like a mother to her, and let her see how broken she was. “I’m not going to tell him,” she finally muttered, saying the words aloud for the first time.

Bewildered, Polly set down her cup and replaced it with one of Y/n’s hands. “What are you going to do, then?” Voice laced with worry, she never knew what the young woman had to put up with, none of the Shelbys did.

“I’m leaving Tommy.” There was silence as she slipped her hands out of Polly’s grasp and sipped on her tea.

“The war may have changed him but it didn’t destroy him, Y/n,” she scolded her like a mother does a child, causing Y/n to roll her eyes. “Where are you going, then? Your parents hate you for marrying a gpspy and those closest to you are close to your husband as well. And what about the children? What about your baby?”

A sigh escaped her lips as she placed her cup on the table. “Polly—” Y/n folded her hands in her lap. “—it doesn’t matter where I go. Anywhere is better than where he is. He no longer loves me, it’s clear when he slaps me in the face by flirting with the fucking barmaid,” she seethed, remembering the day she first caught her husband too close to the blonde barmaid for her comfort. 

“He won’t touch me unless it’s to tell others I’m his. At home, he would rather be with the children than me and when in bed, he won’t even look at me.” Tears were swelling in her eyes, a hand going to caress her slightly swollen belly. “This baby is a miracle considering I’m like filth to him.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Had she talked to him about it? Y/n wanted to laugh at the question, of course she had. Tommy knew exactly how she felt. First, she was subtle about it, small hints that any man would understand. But Tommy ignored them just like he did her. And then, she became more verbal about it. Why hide what he already knew? Y/n was furious, hurt, by his actions. She was once the love of his life and if he no longer wanted her then she wanted to know. Being tortured by seeing what he refused to give her wasn’t something she wanted to live with. 

She sighed, nodding in response.

“And he doesn’t care,” Polly shook her head, disappointment shining like a beacon in her eyes. Out of all the Shelby men, she thought her nephew would be the opposite of his father. Before the war, he was a loving man. A family man. After, she thought that man was still in there somewhere, but she should have known better. All the nights Y/n brought the kids over, Tommy nowhere in sight, and the days he stayed in the office until the sun rose the next morning should have sounded an alarm. But with the boys home from war, like everyone else, Polly wanted to believe things would settle back into some sort of normal. She was wrong. “If you have a place to stay, I’ll help you pack.”

“My brother and his wife have offered to let me stay with them for as long as needed,” Y/n informed her. “I’d like to leave now, if you don’t mind, since Grace is entertaining my husband.”

Polly nodded, getting to her feet, gesturing for Y/n to follow her as they packed bags for the kids. 

Y/n never wanted to leave her husband. She believed that Tommy would come to his senses and at least be kinder to her. 

During the war, she missed his touch. The fingers that lingered after a soft kiss. The arms that would encase her as she slept. The warmth that radiated off him when their skin touched. But the war was over and she found herself longing for the exact things she once believed would return to her. Longing for the man she still loved. That’s what hurt the most. Her love for him had never wavered and if they didn’t have children, perhaps, she would wait for years for him to love her once more. 

But that simply couldn’t be done when she looked down at the two small beings playing on the floor. Y/n didn’t want them to grow up and believe that it was acceptable to settle for what was given to them. She wanted them to know their worth and know that they deserved love. That couldn’t be done if they grew up seeing their mother throw herself away for a man who wouldn’t do the same. 

With their bags all packed, she didn’t regret a thing as her brother pulled up in his car. Ben and Julie were beyond impressed with the object that shone in the evening sun, asking their uncle for a ride before he could even get out of the car. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, approaching his sister with his niece on his hip. 

“I am. Tommy made his bed. Now he has to sleep in it.” She smiled sadly and picked up a bag. Once all the bags were in the car, the children along with them, Y/n turned to Polly. The woman was on the verge of tears, Y/n didn’t blame her. This was not the evening either of them were expecting. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, embracing her. 

Slowly pulling away, Polly glanced between her and the children, who were snuggled up in blankets. “You take care of them, you hear? And write to me everyday, tell me how things go.” Y/n nodded, squeezing her hand. 

“You deserve better than this and, by god, you will get what you deserve, I know it.” With that, Polly pushed Y/n towards the car. Who knew when Tommy would be home and she didn’t want him to pitch a fit over something he’d done.

“Be safe, Pol.”

“I will,” she smiled and the car roared to life, slowly making its way down Watery Lane and out of sight.

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to any of the tag lists.

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Peaky Blinders: @simonsbluee @queenofmankind

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @creativemayhems

[m00nlitknight]

Hello. I really like your previous works. Can I make request, please? Reader's been in relationship with whole gang for a couple of months. Everything was ok but Henry got jealous and started to ruin her relationship with rest of the gang distancing her from them.

ofc!! ✨  i don’t know if im really happy where i left off with this, so if you’re interested i could potentially make a part two?  i’m pretty happy with some parts of it ngl, but that might be my 4am brain talking lol;;

warnings:  usages of slurs / degrading terms ( light, but still present ).  mentions of frick fracking.  possessive behavior.  none else to really talk about. pairing:  poly!bowers gang x reader / henry bowers x reader extra ( edit ):  feel free to look through my masterlist for other bower’s gang/reader works, and have a fantastic day!

vindictive.

The relationship with the infamous Bowers’ Gang began in what you could only describe as a fictional scenario.  You’d always been known as one of the kindest individuals in your classes, a large soul and absolutely heart-warming and dazzling smile.  The reputation, though humbling on the darkest of evenings, felt strenuous to keep up.  It was suffocating, sometimes, when you wanted nothing more than to fade in the scenery, or to say no to a request from someone.  Being the school doormat gave you an easy pass to adoration, but a hard road to doing whatever anyone wanted.

That’s what confused you about the sudden interest of the gang.  Sure, you had been paired up once or twice with them for class projects, shouldered the entirety of the workload; but everytime they hardly batted an eye your way.  Except for Vic, but he always seemed to be a bit more socially adept then the other three.  So it was only fitting that the initial interest came from him, one day after your shared class he approached you, and asked if you’d ever want to hang out.

Obviously, you said yes, and reaped the immediate consequences.  Practically the next day after his query, people began to look at and treat you differently.  No longer was there an affectionate warmth in their gaze, reserved exclusively for you, instead replaced with a brief flash of fear before morphing into a bout of confusion for how to tread the situation.  You didn’t mind it, or at least on the surface you didn’t.  The validation found in your peers suddenly being ripped from your grasp was a bit whiplash inducing, not that you could really do anything about it.

The initial hangout, which you look back at fondly as your first actual date, was a casually dressed affair.  He took you to get milkshakes, which you indulged in the city’s center and poked fun at the Paul Bunyan statue, then took you to go thrift shopping.  It was that day you’d found your new favorite sweater, called ‘hideous’ on many occasions by the likes of your mother and peers, and a cute denim skirt.

It didn’t take long for Henry himself to nearly shoehorn himself into your relationship with Vic, apparently prompting Belch to ambush the two of you on your second date.  The Trans-Am’s engine was unbearably loud, coming up behind the two of you holding hands as Henry hollered something you couldn’t quite make out.

Five months down the line, and half-way through Junior year, a heartfelt outpour from the entire gang; and suddenly you’d become the apple of all of their eyes, so to speak.  Most of the time, your interactions were soft with all the boys, cuddled up with them all -- your personal favorite being Belch, he knew just the position for you to be putty in your hands; Patrick on the other hand did everything in his power to make you squirm while in his grasp.  He’d simply cackle at your protests of his wandering hands, then proceed to mock the tone of your voice.

Though, from the sidelines, you were mostly able to ignore the fiery glares thrown by Henry.  No matter how much attention you gave him, how many times you’d let him leave unsolicited hickies on your neck in plain sight to be hidden from your mother, or held him after a rough night.

He’d never said thank you or praised you for anything, which left you devoid of where you stood with him.  If he hated you, would you even be around the other three?  Wouldn’t he have been completely blunt and outright with it?  The creeping worry manifesting itself in your gut grew with time, and with time you began to give him more of your attention to try and sedate it.

Inside the labyrinth of his mind, Henry’s opinion of you began as negative -- the ambushing of your and Vic’s date was a stunt to try and drive you away from the gang in entirety.  But you just came the fuck back.  Loyalty was written all over your features, as was inexperience.  With time, the faint flame of interest that licked the recesses of his mind fanned themselves into a stronger blaze, and suddenly the shared attention you had been giving the gang was like gasoline.

He played himself off as distant, instead replying to the work you put in with brief hand holds or an arm thrown around your shoulders to show possessiveness around school.  Being calculating obviously wasn’t his thing, nor was being patient.

He took your first kiss, and one of his first, one night while alone with you, the second month into the relationship.  Pussyfooting around the more carnal aspects of a relationship wasn’t something he typically found himself doing, but he knew that Vic or Belch would have his head if he rushed things too fast.  In the end, though, it drove him to wanting more.

Physical affection was kept behind closed doors, and he couldn’t be sure that your intimacy was only reserved for him, considering you never sported any other markings or called out the name of any of the other members while you were with him.  It inflated his ego to astronomical levels, and it killed him that he couldn’t flaunt it in his friend’s faces.

Regardless, he wanted you to himself and himself alone.

-----------

“Good morning!” your voice cut through the mid-morning drowsiness of the boys sitting in the parked Trans-Am on the curb in front of your home with steely sharpness, but a welcome smile finds its way onto Belch’s face.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says from the driver’s seat.  “Hop in.”

“Can do!”  your morning pep leads to a foot on the tire and hauling yourself into the car by means of the roof, and plopping directly in Patrick’s lap - eliciting a hearty grunt and smirk from the boy.

“You’re awfully full of life this morning, feels shameful to waste this energy on something so innocent as breakfast,” he all but purrs as he tugs you further into his grasp while the car lurches forward and en route to the typical Saturday-morning hangout spot.

“Ew, Pat,” Vic cringes over to his friend and you, true malicious intent absent.  “It’s fucking brunch time, let ‘em wake up first, will you?”

His question is answered by a cheeky nip to your neck, causing you to squeal.

In the front seat, Henry broods silently.  On the radio plays one of Belch’s cassettes which goes unlistened, and a favorite of his; ...And Justice for All by Metallica.  The playful tone of your voice and Patrick’s advancements manage to leave a sour taste in his mouth, even though he made the extra effort to brush his teeth this morning.

The meal goes relatively uneventful, though your wandering eyes, half-lidded and vixen-esque, irritate him further.  Vic has an arm around your waist, and Belch holding an unoccupied hand under the table.  If he’d thought any better, Patrick was all but devouring you from across the table.  It was an affection-filled scene, which made the poor diner waitress visibly uncomfortable.

After breakfast, Belch drops both you and Henry off at your home, currently unoccupied by your mother who has work.  “Bye, we’ll be seeing you guys later!”

“Henry, be nice to ‘em, will ya?”  Belch booms from the window, around Patrick climbing into the front seat like an animal.

His request is met with a smirk from Henry, who pulls you into a passionate but short kiss in front of the trio.  “As nice as I can be.”

It leaves you immediately flustered and giggling as you’re pulled into your own home and leaving the other three in a vague state of confusion.  The engine faded away in the distance as you moved toward your house, a mess of giggles, flushed cheeks, and a downcasted gaze.  Henry’s smirk is short-lived as his expression shifts back to neutrality.  He watches you walk through the door and shift to the side to take off your shoes, opting to keep his own on.  The brief and blissful silence is broken by his voice, laced with the undeniable edge of his ire.  “Who’s your favorite?”

The question hangs in the air, souring the atmosphere directly as it leaves his mouth.  You freeze at the words, mid finangling your shoe off as you turn to look at him with a confused, and slightly hurt, expression.  “Huh?”

“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid.  Who’s your favorite?”  He takes a step towards you, which you subconsciously shrink back from.

“I-I don’t have one?”

“God, maybe y’are fuckin’ stupid.  There’s four of us and y’mean t’tell me not ‘a one of us sticks out more than the others?”

A blush spreads across your features, an involuntary testament to your unease and outright lie.  Your eyes dart to look anywhere but him as your body betrays you, petrified in intimidation.  “You,” murmur with a gentle voice and laced with a lack of thinking.

He leans down to your mouth, quickly overtaking your personal space and invading your nostrils with his scent -- cheap body spray and masculinity.  It’s nearly intoxicating.  “What was that?”

“You,” an utterance with little more force, the action of taking a lungful of air simply too strenuous.

“Mind tellin’ me why I feel the least love then?”

You almost want to deflate at it, even if the hands wrapping around your shoulder feel like nothing short of a tender moment.  All the time you’d spent with him, all that you’d given to him, and he still felt overshadowed?

“I…”

“Or, is it jus’ that you’re an attention-seeking slut?”  The words cut deeper then he’s capable of understanding, and the sick smile curling onto his lips and the whispered tone feel vastly different then what he’s actually saying.

You’re rendered speechless as he takes you closer to the couch, dragging you into a straddling position on him.  “Show me what I was missin’ at brunchfast then, huh?”

Wide-eyed and bashful you stare.  What are you even supposed to do?  He leans into you, peppering your throat with kisses while his hands wander up and down your sides.  Instinctively, your hands move to run through his hair and he nearly purrs at the contact and looks up at you with an intense, baby-blue gaze.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“You,” sighed out as he starts sucking on your neck and rubbing at your hips.

“Say it,”  a rough voice reverbs through him from his chest, and he relishes in the affection of your gentle hands.  You’re his.  His.

“You’re my favorite, Henry,” your voice tightens when he starts to suck on your collarbone.

---------

He’d managed to cut your afterglow short in the early evening, badgering you to call Belch and tell him not to drive you to school for the next week.  You did it, albeit with a bit of confusion, and feeling vague sadness when Belch’s tone took a nose-dive into disappointment when the subject of the call was revealed. For the next week, you couldn’t look any of the gang in the eye, instead taking to marinate in your own shame and blatantly avoid them.

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

i turn to paths that lead home; viii

Chapter 8: who do you think you are?

rating: its a gen fic for The Umbrella Academy

words:1.6k

chapter:8/?

warnings: nothing atypical for the umbrella academy, spoilers for season 2

AO3

a/n:  many many many thanks to my discord friends who were a big help with creating and editing this @NightingaleComics @viridescentshade @cbuugdrama9 on ao3 @boardwalk-absurdist​ @3ternalslumber on tumblr

Summary:  Luther held Vanya a little tighter, refusing to let her go. It changed the game and made all the difference.

First || Previous

summary: enter diego, stage left

After they had signed all the paperwork, Vanya and Luther were shown to a bland room. It contained only a table and three chairs plus the guard that showed them in.

It was minutes later that the man was shoved through the door. He was turned toward the new guard, the one that escorted him in, and hadn’t yet seen them.

“Fuck you. When I get out of here, I'm coming for you. I’m-”

“Shut up or I'll put you in solitary.” The man finally turned around and the look on his face was...angry. There were other nuances to it but anger was the one most present.

“Son of a bitch. You two?”

“So you know us?” The words slipped out of Vanya’s mouth before she could stop them and it startled the man. He jerked back into his seat but the menace coming from him slowed.

“What do you mean?”

Vanya and Luther shared a look but eventually responded to the man, “We were in an accident over a year ago. Head trauma. We’re slowly gaining memories back but we still don’t know a lot.”

“You knew me.”

“We recognized you. One of the earliest memories we got back was of seven of us in a circle on a stage.”

“Seven?”

“The three of us, a young boy in a school uniform, a woman in a leather jacket, a man with tattooed palms, and a blue man.”

“Yeah, that’s all of- A blue man?”

“He was wearing a leather jacket and pants but he was see-through and blue. Sometimes he has tentacles.”

“Ben?”

“His name is Ben?”

“A man with tentacles coming out of his stomach? Yeah, that’s Ben.”

“And you?”

He paused thoughtfully, peering at them through hard eyes, but he nodded and introduced himself, “Diego Hargreeves. Number Two.”

“Number Two? Did he name us based on our age or something?”

Diego went to respond but slowed his words and whistled slightly through his teeth when he caught sight of the guards in the corner of the room.

“Something like that. Listen, we don’t have much time left. But I’m gonna get out soon.”

“We can give you our number? So you can call us when you get out.”

“You somewhere safe, then?”

“On a farm.”

A shocked laugh burst out of Diego’s chest but it cut off when he saw their faces, “oh you weren’t joking were you?”

“Nope.”

“Ok — give me the number and I’ll call you. My first evaluation is coming up — and I’ll pass it.”

Vanya didn’t think it would be that easy but the look in his eyes told her Diego would pass. She and Luther stood up after Diego repeated the farm’s phone number back to them. She didn’t know if she should go for a hug or not so she just watched Diego strut out of the room.

She didn’t know what to think about Diego and based on the complicated look on Luther’s face, he thought the same.

~~

It was as they were on their way home when Vanya realized that they never got the other names.

~~

Diego hit the wall harshly. He was expecting it but he still bit his lip when he impacted. He knew the tone he had taken with the guards would come back to bite him but it still hurt. As the door slammed shut, Diego slid to the ground and stretched out his legs.

Luther and Vanya, huh.  He didn’t know what to think about that. It sounded like — from their story — that they landed in the same alley he had but a year earlier. And his landing was better. At least he didn’t land and lose his memories. It was his actions that led Diego to be in this place.

He didn’t want to believe them but he felt like he had too. The way they interacted with each other? It was completely different. There was love and care between them. Before their foray into the past, Luther had been scared of Vanya and of what she could do, determined to follow dad’s lead and lock her up. Hell, the last time Luther and Vanya were alone together, Luther locked Vanya up and she decided to blow up the moon.

Granted, Diego felt like doing the same thing because of how often Luther brought it and his mission up. But now? Neither of them apparently remembered anything and they came for him for help.

He didn’t necessarily know what to do about that — the mighty Number One and the resident Family Traitor...only they didn’t remember those facts.

“Fuck.”

Diego wished he had had a couple of more minutes to talk to them. He didn’t get a chance to actually question them — but now he had some time to think of some questions. He had to come up with some that would prompt a reaction from one of them. Something that would break through their act — if they were lying. Diego knew that he could question Luther about his mutated body or their father. Those were topics that would break Luther’s silence. He didn’t know what type of topics to get Vanya with but based on what he saw back in the mansion on that last day — Diego might ask her about Pogo and what he had done to be killed in such a way.

Diego didn’t know what happened with either of those situations for them but he had seen the aftermath of even mentioning it so that was going to be his best bet on shocking them into dropping the act.

And in the unlikely occasion that they truly didn’t remember, Diego needed to know what memories they did have.

~~

It had taken longer then Diego thought it would have, but a month after he first entered the hospital, Diego passed his evaluation and was able to call his siblings. During that month Diego had repeated the number to himself over and over again, both not wanting to forget it and as a reminder to himself about why he was putting genuine effort in talking it out with the doctors and staff.

He had spun a story about trying to find his siblings to explain the stalking behavior and semi-created a horrible ex for Vanya to explain why he had lied at first. Between those facts and the effort Diego showed in both group sessions and personal sessions, he passed the eval with flying colors. He had even seen some nurses drying their eyes — so amazed at the effort he was putting in to protect his family.

Diego hid the eye roll. Whatever got him out of here. He was told that he had a couple of minutes to make a phone call but after that, he had to vacate the premises. Letting the phone ring, Diego was making vague plans upon plans.

“Hello?” Diego was pleased that it was Vanya that answered the phone, not whoever they were living with.

“Vanya? It's Diego. I passed my eval and am being released from the hospital today. Do you-”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can come and get you? That is - if you want to stay with us?”

Diego swore to himself, in his head. He could see Vanya’s face, even over the phone. Big sad eyes, a hopeful smile that she was trying to stifle, shoulders hunched up, and she was probably curled up a little — making herself a smaller target for any sort of scorn or ridicule. He had seen that look a thousand times growing up, and it was even more effective now than they were adults. Diego swore it was the height difference. They might have been close to the same size growing up but now Diego towered over her.

He knew that even if he hadn’t planned on staying with them, he would have to now. Damn those stupid puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. That would be nice — would it be possible for someone to get me tonight? I’ve only got a couple of minutes on the phone before they chase me out the door.”

“Of course! If I remember right there’s a little bookstore a couple of blocks from the hospital. I could meet you there? It would only take me about an hour to get there.”

“That sounds like a plan. You’ll be here in around an hour?” Diego wanted to be certain of Vanya’s arrival.

“Yup! Did you want me to bring you anything from the farm? I don’t think we have clothes that would fit you but I can bring some cash and we can stop somewhere.”

“I have the clothes I was wearing when I was admitted.” Diego didn’t want to go shopping with his sister — he remembered Allison and the many malls she dragged them to after their missions. He wasn’t doing that again.

“Oh...ok. You’re sure you don’t need anything?”

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

“...But I guess I could use a change. And maybe something to eat?”

“Oh! Oh yeah! I can bring some sandwiches and such!” Vanya sounded excited and Diego heaved a sigh, seeing his future. It involved shopping and talking about his feelings.

The things he did for his family.

“No provolone or mayonnaise. I’ll be in the bookstone. One hour.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

They hung up, then Diego completed the check out routine, getting back his uniform and harness but not his knives. He gave the guards the side eye he’d learnt from Five when they were preteens but knew he wasn’t going to be getting them back.

He was just walking out when he heard the doctors talking with the head guard, “Yeah we’re moving the new inmate in tonight — one miss Lila Pitts.”

[snippychicke]

Dedicated to @unbiddenrhythm for getting me hooked on this seriously rare-pair. Although our Assistants have slightly different names, Rea is heavily inspired by her head cannons, so she's like, 99% hers.

This started out as a short drabble for OTP prompts, and just...evolved. the prompt was: Which one gets jealous more often.

Short answer: Rea does, partly because she often feels like she Reeve is far out of her league.

Long answer: well, this:

Fluffyish piece of ReevexAssistant below. Mentions of jealous, hints of slight sexual harassment (not between the main couple). Spoiler free! 

Oddly enough, Rea tends to get jealous more often.

Reeve Tuesti was really the poster boy of Shinra directors. Granted, compared to the other three males that made up the board of directors, it wasn't that surprising. Anyone would look good compared to Palmer, Heidegger, and Hojo. 

The only other Shinra Executive the gossip columnists wrote more about was Rufus, and since his assignment to Junon and virtual banishment from Midgar, he had been forced to the limelight. Leaving Reeve to endure the spotlight and rather unwanted attention.

Rea knew she shouldn't be reading the trashy magazines that were little more than fluff pieces that barely disguised Shinra propaganda. But when Reeve was on the latest cover, it was hard for her to resist. Her official reason was to study the gossip and figure out if she needed to give the poor man a heads up about the latest rumors (like when they published his favorite cafe and the 'fans' were flooding to the small cat cafe in Sector 3 to catch a glimpse) or start counter-arguments derailing the misconceptions that tended to sprout from time to time (like that he was yet another Shinra bastard son). 

It was just a coincidence that the side bonus was to be able to.study her boss's appearance without the risk of being caught. (Not that the paparazzi ever got a picture of his true smile, or really captured the small little glint in his eyes he got when he was amused. But they did get a rather good side profile when he was jogging on the treadmill on the rec floor that she was rather fond of.)

However, this time the articles left her more than a little disquieted. It was a special edition covering President Shinra's birthday party from the weekend prior. It had been a through who's-who affair, with everyone dressed to impress. She skipped over the details of the designers, and briefly wrinkled her nose at the image of Hojo and Palmer and their suits. Not even the best tailors in the world could make them half-decent, though she questioned who thought to let Palmer wear a suit that was a rather gross mix of brown and green that reminded her of things that belong in a toilet. 

She did have to admit lingering on the first couple images of her boss in the well-fitted black suit made his long legs and thin form even more prominent than usual. The remaining articles that weren't dedicated to praising the President were focused on the Urban Development Director…

...and questioning his relationship with Scarlett.

 Nearly every picture had the two in close proximity, and in more than a couple, Scarlett was hanging from Reeve's arm, a sultry smile on her shimmery lips and a smug look in her eyes that made something akin to anger flare in Rea's chest. As if the older woman was looking straight at her and boasting at achieving what Rea could only dream about. 

Looking at those pictures...Rea had to admit to the small ember of jealousy that burned in her stomach. She wanted to be able to wrap her arm around Reeve like that. To gaze up into his eyes and see that warmth and tenderness looking back at her. 

And unfortunately for Rea, the rumors of Reeve and Scarlett spread like wildfire through Shinra's fertile grapevine. Sure Scarlett was a few years older than Reeve, but many people pointed out that it wasn't that much of an age gap. Then there were the counter-arguments that she had undeniable looks and 'experience', musing maybe it was something right up the soft-spoken man's alley.

The conversations down that particular path made Rea feel physically sick. Few were privy to just exactly how ruthless and abusive the lone female director was, and she had a hard time thinking anyone would find that...attractive, let alone her boss. Granted Reeve did his best not to speak too poorly about his peers, but she was sure she didn't imagine the scowl that graced his features whenever he returned from meetings with her. She had thought that Reeve disapproved of such things...but all the pictures of the two together and the gossip that followed suit made her start to question that maybe she was wrong?  

It made her question if she was reading all the signs between her and her director wrong. Over the last few months, she had started hope that maybe this feeling wasn't quite as one-sided as she had first thought. But maybe he was just being kind and helpful and she was just seeing things through rose-colored glasses. Maybe she wasn't at all his type. 

And if Scarlett was his type...did she really know him that well? 

"Oh please," Reeve groaned, making Rea jump slightly in her chair as he entered the office and caught her flipping through the infamous magazine, "I will literally buy you a fire materia if you promise to burn that wretched thing. 

"Sir?" She squeaked, not used to hearing him speak so...candidly. Never through the months of her 'research' had he commented so negatively. Usually, it was a bemused 'really?' Or a 'what are those scavengers lying about now?'

"Those pictures of me and Scarlett," he gestured tiredly. "I swear I am going to retch if I see another one. First I had to endure her pawing at me that entire night, and the nightmare only continues. 'Older and experienced, ha!' The woman is a money digging cougar."

Rea bit her lip trying to contain a smile as that sickly feeling evaporated. Everything suddenly seemed better, and the world once more made sense. Jealousy and doubt had really made her think crazy ideas. Reeve, interested in Scarlett? That was not the man she admired and respected. "...I do think they sell fire materia downstairs, actually…"

Reeve paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting hers. His expression was serious, but she swore she could see some amusement and gratitude in them."Don't tempt me, because I don't know if I can resist."

Those words made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and she had to look away to regain her senses. The magazine was open to a page where Scarlett was pressed against his side, her cleavage prominent, and now she could see the reserved annoyance on her Director's face as he pointedly looked away from the woman. " ...usually I wouldn't condone such acts, however, this time is a little different." Rea gave a small impish smile as she looked back at him, and was delighted when he started to grin back at her. 

"You, my dear, are the best," there was a pause as he glanced at the offending text. "...would you think any less of me if I asked you to use my account to buy the last of those magazines? I could reserve the SOLDIERS' VR training room for after hours. I think it's fireproof." 

Rea was shocked by his words temporarily before realization sunk in. He really hated the rumors floating about him this.time, and it struck a nerve. Righteous anger flared along with determination.

"It would be my pleasure. In fact, I'll split the cost with you." 

---

It was close to eight at night, and the bonfire of every magazine they could find reached into the simulated night sky. Was it petty? Possibly. Poor use of time to go to every floor and search for every copy they could find? Absolutely. 

Did she regret any of it? Not a bit. She felt younger, lighter as she and Reeve snuck about after hours, taking turns keeping watch as the other sifted through the magazine in the numerous lounge areas, stuffing the offending copies into a bag. 

Neither were very surprised when the reached the archives, and one of the many library bots merrily greeted them with a stack of magazines. "Scarlett is a whore," it chirped innocently, making them both break out in surprised laughter. 

"You know the techs still don't know how or why those bots are 'faulty'," Reeve said as they left the archives, the thick stack split between them. 

"Grandad mentioned they keep trying to fix them," she hummed. "Mr. Hart has caught newbie techs trying to hack their system so many times he thinks its a hazing rite." 

"I wouldn't put it past them. Their funding for AI is geared towards military purposes, but many of them are interested in creating true Artificial Intelligence. And well, their programming was actually the basis for my own side project." 

"You keep hinting at your side projects," she pouted playfully, feeling daring. "But you never talk about them much."

There was a playful light in Reeve's eyes as he winked down at her. "Maybe one of these days I'll introduce you."

---

While the techs of the VR room did give them odd looks, nothing was said as they brought in the bags of magazines and Reeve asked them to generate specific coordinates before they entered. 

It always amazed Rea to watch the silver room give way to the virtual reality. The ceiling rippled into a cloudless night sky, the steel floor becoming gently rolling hills that led to a picture-perfect sandy beach. She could even taste the salty air of the ocean as the waves gently crashed near her feet. 

"Where are we?" She asked as she helped pile the magazines into a decent mound. 

"A beach not far from where I grew up," he answered easily, surprising her. "I spent many nights here stargazing when I was stuck on problems when I was younger. I admit, when I'm facing a challenging situation I'll use this place after hours to help brainstorm. It's still not quite the same though. Usually, you would be able to hear crickets chirping and the occasional seagull." 

"Sounds beautiful." Rea pulled the new fire-materia from her pocket and held it kut to him once he was finished organizing the magazines into a suitable pile. "I believe you should have the honor, sir," she insisted when he hesitated. "All things considered."

He looked at the small green orb twinkling with an inner light, illuminating her plain but well-manicured nails. He placed his hand over hers, enveloping the materia. 

"How about we do it together?" He offered. "Granted, I haven't dual-casted since I first learned how to use materia, but I think we could manage it." 

Rea was thankful it was dark enough to hide the blush she felt creeping across her cheeks as she shifted to stand next to Reeve, their fingers brushing as they cradled the materia. "One...two…" Reeve counted, and on three she felt the magic flow into the materia. Dual casting was usually only used to teach another person how to use materia, because you had the odd sense of the other person's magic, and it was often too distracting to focus. 

And it was very distracting, as well as oddly intimate to feel his magic mix with hers as fire erupted from the magazines. His careful arranging assured an even and thorough fire that reached up to the stars. 

"I didn't think this would be this relaxing," Reeve admitted as they watched the pages begin to curl. While their arms were no longer stretched out, neither seemed willing to let go quite yet.

"Fire is rather cleansing," Rea replied softly, wondering if it was wrong of her to feel a little smug. Scarlett may have pushed Reeve into allowing her to hang off him against his will, but here she was, more or less holding hands with him...and he didn't seem at all bothered by her close proximity.

"It is… thank you," he added a moment later, looking down at her, his soft expression lit by the flames, "for indulging my moment of insanity."

"Happily sir," she tried for a light tone while her throat was blocked by her heart. Gaia, she though, he was handsome like this. Hair just a little messy, the weight and stress lifted from his shoulders and a true smile pulling at his lips. He looked so...happy. Content. And she was at least partly responsible.

Take that, Scarlett. 

There was a long pause before Reeve cleared his throat. "So, um, I heard one of the techs from the science department had asked you out the other night."

"Oh, yeah." Rea wrinkled her nose at the memory of the man she had barely met trying to pressure her to go kut on a date when she had turned down all his subtle advances before.

"How did that go?" 

"Mm, it didn't. He's not quite my type."

Rea was sure she imagined the relieved sigh and his shoulder relaxing. "Ah. Good. Well, I mean, I'm glad you know what your type is," he quickly added on, sounding a bit flustered, making her raise a brow. "It's good to know that. I think." 

Rea laughed as she looked over at him, wondering if his cheeks were pink due to the fire. "What about you, sir? Do you know your type?"

He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment. "I think I'm finally figuring it out." 

"But it's not Scarlett?"

That made him laugh, the rich sound flowing over her along with the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sand. "Oh Gaia, no. Absolutely not! The woman I like is...kind, and caring. She always puts others before herself, and can be a little bit of a hypocrite for lecturing others on their workaholic behaviors." 

Rea's heart thumped in her chest and tried to keep her mind from jumping to conclusions. She forced herself to focus on where the tips of the flames met the night sky. "Sounds less like a type and more like an individual, sir." 

"Yeah, maybe," he admitted quietly. A peek towards him revealed he was still looking at her with that expression from before. The same expression she had daydreamed of since this infatuation of hers begun. 

Surely not. Surely she was just seeing things through rose-colored glasses again. Except his hand drifted from the materia to brush shyly against hers, almost to ask for permission. 

Only to drop away as reality forced its way back in, the sky and ocean disappearing in a violent ripple. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" A scientist barged in, using a fire extinguisher to put out their makeshift bonfire as the two jumped away from each other. "YOU JUST CAN'T BURN THINGS INSIDE THE TOWER! WHAT WERE YOU TWO THINKING?!"

[wordsnstuff]

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Worried Sick

10th Doctor x Reader

Author’s Note: This took me WAY longer than it should have, but here’s my next story! This was a requested story, but I had already planned on having a sick fic with 10 and the Reader! Thank you once again to my lovely beta reader @blueboxshenanigans11 for reading through and giving me some editing suggestions! Please chuck her a follow if you haven’t yet! And, as always, feedback is always welcome!

Prompt: Yo can i get a tenth doctor x a sick reader! (Btw i love blog)

Summary: You’ve come down with an alien cold, and the Doctor is looking after you! After you sneak off while he’s away, he frantically searches for you.

Warnings: Mild angst, some talk of sickness related things (sneezing, coughing, etc.)

Words: 1,972

You hadn’t expected to fall ill. Although, no one really expects to catch some alien sickness, do they? But then again, you travel to all sorts of different planets and galaxies, so maybe you should have expected to get something. It didn’t matter anymore though; you were in bed with a crummy cold.

The cold itself didn’t seem any different from a typical human cold besides the fact that it lasts about double the time and medicine doesn’t help. Luckily for you, you got a milder version of the cold. For the most part, you felt pretty okay besides the stuffy nose, mild fever, and occasional sneezing fits. But the Doctor had told you that it could very easily turn into a much stronger and potentially deadly illness with any physical exertion, so he made you stay in bed. You were on day seven of the illness and you were more than thoroughly annoyed with being unable to move except to use the restroom when he wasn’t paying attention.

At first, you didn’t really mind having to stay in bed since the Doctor insisted on cuddling with you to help you feel warmer, which it easily did. It was already difficult enough to resist cuddles from the Time Lord, but the chills from the fever made it impossible to say no. His slim body surprisingly held a lot of body heat, something that you were more grateful for than ever. Despite loving being in his arms, after a couple of days it was beginning to become difficult to want to stay in bed. Your body hurt from lack of use and you wanted to go on an adventure. You had tried to convince him to take you on a teeny, tiny trip to some new planet, but he refused with ease.

“Not a chance,” he said, shaking his head and kissing your forehead. “You’re still ill and I can’t possibly risk letting you get even worse. With too much physical activity, this little cold will become a nasty flu. I can’t let that happen, now can I?” You huffed and buried your face into his chest, happy that he cared about you so much but upset that he wouldn’t give in.

“I don’t like you.”

“You know you love me.”

During day seven, you simply couldn’t handle being in bed any longer. Your joints were sore and you had to get up and do something, even if it was just walking around the TARDIS for a while. The Doctor had left to make you some soup, so you decided to take that opportunity to get up and sneak around for a bit. You knew that you couldn't be gone for more than 15 or 20 minutes, but it was something. You slowly got out of your bed and stretched, happy to be using your limbs again. Slowly, you opened the door to your room and looked around for any sign of the kitchen or the alien. Satisfied that neither were nearby, you crept out and began to look for the library, your favorite place in the ship.

Walking carefully, the Doctor started to make his way out of the kitchen with a tray of hot soup, hot tea, and some solid food for you. He felt terrible for taking you to the planet where you had contracted your cold. He had completely forgotten that humans were incredibly susceptible to the planet’s many illnesses. There were so many more that you could have gotten, each one more severe than the last. He was thankful that you had caught one of the more mild ones and that you would be alright within a few more days. He loved you dearly and would be nothing less than devastated if he lost you.

You and the Doctor had been together for many months and he had never been happier. In that time, he realized that he could never go back to you not being in his life, so he was going to do everything in his power to keep you from getting worse. He knew that you weren’t happy with being stuck in bed, but he simply couldn’t risk it. He knew that you loved being in his arms, so he used that as a way to keep you in bed. He tried to stay with you as often as he possibly could, only leaving to get you food. Not that he minded, of course. You grounded him. With anyone else, he wanted nothing more than to go out on a new adventure. With you, he simply wanted to be around you, even if it meant staying in bed and cuddling.

As he made it to your door, he got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. The door was slightly open. He hadn’t left it like that, he was sure of it. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, he looked inside and saw that you weren’t in bed where he had left you. The Doctor dropped the tray on the floor and ran off down the halls to look for you, ignoring the broken glass and ruined food.

His body kicked into overdrive as he went through every door he came across, hoping to find you safe and sound. With each door that didn’t lead to you, the more worried he became. He knew you couldn’t have gone far and that you were most likely alright, but he couldn’t shake off the fear that you had gone and made yourself worse off. He tried to reason with himself, knowing that you knew better, but then he remembered that you had gone off when he had told you not to exert yourself.

Coming to the door to the library, the Doctor rushed in, having little hope of finding you in there. He ran through anyway as he continued to debate with himself on whether or not you were alright. Finally, as he prepared to go onto the next floor of the massive room, he saw you leaning against one of the shelves, eyes dashing back and forth as you tried to find a book that suited your mood. The Doctor called out your name frantically and ran towards you, capturing you in a hug before you could look up.

“D-Doctor?” you said, confused as he quickly lead you to a seat. As he helped, well, forced you sit down, he tried to put on his best stern face.

“Sweetheart, I told you that if you exerted yourself you could make your sickness worse. Why didn’t you listen to me?” He tried hard to keep his face stern, but the fear in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. Your face fell as you realized how much you had worried him. You had meant to get back to your room before he came back, but you must have lost track of time. Now he was upset that you had disobeyed his orders and made him worry for you. Letting your eyes fall from his face, you began to explain yourself quietly.

“I know that if I’m not careful I’m going to make myself even more sick, but Doctor, I’ve just been so bored. I haven't been able to walk around or stretch my body. I’ve been so sore because I haven’t even been allowed to walk. You’ve carried me to the bathroom, bathed me, you’ve even fed me. I know that if I’m too active, I’ll get worse, but I just wanted to move about to try to get the pain to go away and maybe find something to do until I’m better.” You glanced back up at the Doctor, his face having softened slightly. Sighing, you looked away again. “And…”

“And?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side slightly.

“Don’t…you think that you may be a tad bit overbearing?” you asked, your voice growing slightly more quiet. Before the Doctor could reply, you continued. “I mean I know that I have to be careful, but walking for a few minutes? Or giving myself a quick shower? Or lifting a spoon? I get that you don’t want me getting something that could be dangerous, but don’t you think that those things aren’t enough to cause anything worse?” You kept your eyes from focusing on the Time Lord, instead opting to focus on some marks on the floor. Those suddenly became very interesting. What neat patterns those marks make. Your focus was broken with a sigh from the Doctor and his hand touching your own.

“Darling, I…I know that I must seem to be overprotective of you, and maybe I am, especially because it’s you and I want you to be safe and sound and out of harm’s way, but maybe I’m not because the universe is dangerous and you’re a human being and humans are terribly weak compared to other creatures, but I know that you’re a resilient person and that you’re probably fine more often than not, but then again you’re human, but-“

“Doctor.”

“Right right, sorry.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood the best he could, your slight smile and glance at him showing he succeeded. “I just…worry. You’re the first person in a very long time that I’ve been able to share this bond with and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of a stupid mistake that I made. I love you, and I want to be able to love you for many more years to come.” The sad look in his eyes was back, the one he got when he thought of his old planet and what he had lost. You realized that he was scared. He had been alone for so long and he didn't want to have that happen again, especially if he could prevent it. You placed your hands on top of his own, giving them a light squeeze as you smiled at him softly.

“Hey now, all of the dangers we’ve faced, the creatures that have tried to kill me, the injuries that I’ve gotten, and you think that a cold is going to take me out?” You laughed softly, moving one of your hands to his cheek. “I’m fine, alright? It was just a little walk. It’s not going to hurt me. It’s alright to worry, but you need to trust me, okay?” The sad look remained in his ancient, brown eyes, but a small, genuine smile graced his lips. He nodded and moved his arms around you, pulling you in for a firm hug.

“I trust you. But no more running off without telling me where you’re going. That’s not a habit we want you to pick up. We wouldn’t want you to get into trouble now, do we?” He pulled back and smiled a bit wider before suddenly picking you up and heading for the exit. “Now, back to bed with you! You made me literally drop your meal so I could come find you, so now I have to make you more! And no joining me in the kitchen. We both know how that will turn out.” You both laughed as he carried you out the door and back towards your room. You began to settle in his arms when you suddenly remembered.

“Wait! I never got a book to read! We’ve gotta go back!” You looked him in the eye and tried to give him your best sad eyes, but to no avail.

“Nope!” he declined, adding a little pop to the end of the word. He grinned widely at your pout before continuing. “I’m going to read you a book that I picked out myself. Trust me, you’ll love it!”

“I thought you were supposed to be the one trusting me!”

“Ah. Yes. Well, maybe tomorrow dear.”

“I don’t like you.”

“You know you love me.”

[unreadable0]

Prompt

Thanks for the amazing prompt ask @kuropikt ! Man, I was really excited to get started on this one! This one ended up kind of crack-y, but I hope that you like it! This features a de-aged Kuroro and an expasperated Kurapika who has to play nanny. 

75. (edited) “Get back here and put on a shirt!”

Kurapika was sure that he was being punished for something. 

Had it been any other form of divine retribution, Kurapika would have had no qualms. He was sure that he would have deserved it, even. But not this time. Not when his punishment came in the form of an innocent-looking, four-year-old version of his worst enemy. 

Ugh.

Even the man’s vile fur coat had shrunk to fit his new, much smaller body. The boy looked up at him with confusion and complete, foolish trust. Kurapika sighed. 

He hadn’t even been looking for the Phantom Troupe leader in the first place! Heck, he’d stopped doing that years ago, and Kurapika had just started learning how to live a semi-normal life when Lucilfer had crash landed (literally) onto his front steps, a slip of paper sticking out of his front pocket. 

‘Sorry, I fucked up. Please watch over this package for me until I come to collect it in a few days,’ it read, and the only thing that identified the writer of the note was a hasty scribble of a clown at the bottom left corner. 

Kurapika decided that he hated clowns. Perverted, pink-haired clowns, to be specific. Oh, how he wished he could just pummel Hisoka into oblivion... that would save him so much trouble in the long run. 

Sighing, Kurapika turned his attention back to the smiling child a couple feet away from him. He had time to plot Hisoka’s timely demise later; there were bigger problems he had to deal with at the moment.

“Older sister? Older sister can you play with me?”

A tick developed at Kurapika’s eyebrow. “I’ve told you before, Lucilfer, I’m not your older sister,” he told the boy sternly. “If anything, I’m your older brother,” he muttered to himself. 

“Okay, older brother!” Kuroro exclaimed, a cheerful grin playing at his lips.

Shit. I guess his nen-enhanced hearing carried over as well.

At least he seemed to have forgotten how to access his pesky hatsu.

Kurapika exhaled slowly. It was going to be a long couple of days. Kuroro seemed to sense his pessimistic thoughts, and shot him the brightest, most adorable toddler smile imaginable. 

Kurapika almost smiled. Almost.

Three weeks later...

“Get back here and put on a clean shirt, for crying out loud!”

“No!” Kuroro protested, darting off with his favorite, now-stained shirt. 

Kurapika chased the dark-haired boy down the hall. “Kuroro, please stop running! You’re going to fall and hurt yourself!”

The child just giggled and ran even faster, much to Kurapika’s dismay. Sighing, the blond wearily sat down. He was way too old for this. He was only 21, but still. 

It was strange. Twenty-one days had passed, and he found that it was getting harder and harder to see the four year old boy as his worst enemy with each moment that he spent with the boy. After all, how could such a sweet—if not a bit mischievous—child be the cold-blooded murderer that he had come to know? It was as if his mind had made them separate entities entirely. 

Speaking of which, Kuroro did not seem to be much of a toddler anymore. If anything, he seemed to have grown a couple years in the past few weeks. Perhaps it was a side-effect of whatever curse that had been set on him in the first place. With any luck, Kuroro would be back to his infuriating adult self in a few weeks. Good thing that Kurapika had burned that blasted coat while he’d had the chance. Currently the kid was dressed more tastefully in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Kurapika, is something wrong?” Sparkling grey eyes peered up at him questioningly, and the blond found himself smiling fondly. Wait, fondly?

“Just a bit tired of chasing you around the whole day,” Kurapika explained, pretending to swoon for added dramatic effect. “I think I’ll just sleep now and not cook you dinner. Ah! It’s all your fault, you cruel monster!” 

“No! I’m sorry Kurapika! I didn’t mean to!” the boy cried, latching onto him like some sort of affectionate leech. “Please, please cook dinner! I promise I’ll never do it again!” Kuroro sniffled against his shirt, and Kurapika ruffled his hair playfully. 

“I’m just joking with you. I could never be mad at you, Kuroro,” the blond assured him without thinking. How ironic his words were.

“Really?” Something flickered in the boy’s eyes, something sharper and more familiar. 

Kurapika froze. 

“Yay!” Kuroro shouted, hugging onto him tighter, and the previous tightness evaporated in an instant. 

Relaxing, Kurapika hoped that it had just been his imagination. With a pang, he realized that he was going to miss the little kid once the spell had worn off. Ever since Kuroro had started living with him, Kurapika had been forced to adopt a normal routine. He would wake up to a hyper kid shaking him awake at precisely 7 am, who would then drag him downstairs to cook breakfast for the both of them. Then he would complete his papers for the Zodiacs and entertain Kuroro while doing so. Instead of falling asleep on top of his work, Kurapika would tuck in the child before turning in for the night himself, as the two of them shared a room, anyway.

Heck, if Kuroro’s spell remained permanent, then he’d consider renting a two-bedroom apartment instead. He certainly had the money to, anyway...

Wait, why am I even thinking about this? Shouldn’t I be waiting for any chance to boot him out?

Two more weeks later...

Kurapika smiled softly as the dark-haired boy frowned in his sleep, and he closed the story book he had been reading. Flicking off the light, he tried to disperse the nervous thoughts that had gathered in the back of his mind as he crawled onto a nearby futon. He had learned early on that Kuroro didn’t like sleeping by himself in the dark, based off of the first handful of nights in which he had been woken up by a distressed toddler wailing about the monsters under his bed. 

It had become second nature, now, to read a quick excerpt to the child before tucking him in for the night. Kuroro had grown four-and-a-half years in the past five weeks, by Kurapika’s estimation, and he was about to make a good twenty-year jump over night, if Hisoka’s note was any indication. 

The clown had finally made contact with him, in the form of a very irritated letter. Kurapika had promptly shredded the note as soon as he had read it, but the main thing that he got from it was that Hisoka was a creepy pervert that should not be let around kids. Oh, and the fact that Hisoka had worked out a deal with whomever had cursed Kuroro in the first place. Kuroro would be returned to his original state by morning. 

Thinking about it made Kurapika feel a bit uneasy. Best case scenario would be that Lucilfer wouldn’t remember anything and Kurapika could feel free to kick him out without remorse. But even that would be slightly upsetting, due to the fact that Kurapika would have to return to his boring ways of paperwork and Zodiac meetings. 

Right as Kurapika was starting to drift off to sleep, too worn out by his worrisome thoughts, he realized that he probably should have just slept in the living room. Or in a hotel, for that matter. Oh, well. Too late for that now.

For the first time in thirty-five days, Kurapika woke up to silence. As soon as he opened his eyes, with the sun trickling in from opened curtains, he knew that something was very, very wrong. 

One, because he had somehow ended up back on his own bed, something that had not happened in weeks. Two, there was no sound or movement to be heard whatsoever, but Kurapika could feel Lucilfer’s aura presence in his vicinity. 

No...

Turning slightly to the other side of the bed, Kurapika screamed in terror. There, face just inches away from his own, was none other than Kuroro Lucilfer, in all his adult glory. Which meant that he was also blatantly without clothes, assuming that the clothes that he had been wearing didn’t fit anymore. There was a pleased grin on Lucilfer’s lips, and Kurapika had a feeling that the other man had been watching him for quite some time.

“Holy shit,” Kurapika whispered, and he had never backpedaled off of a bed so quickly in his whole life. 

“Hey,” Lucilfer greeted, voice perfectly smooth and not at all resembling the child-like one that Kurapika had grown so accustomed to. With one swift movement, the Spider Head pulled the blond back to his chest, and Kurapika tried his best not full-out panic. 

Trying his best to escape the other’s vice-like grip, Kurapika averted his eyes to protect his modesty. “Lucilfer, please unhand me. If we work together, you can leave as soon as possible without any further issues.”

The dark-haired man inhaled deeply, hugging the Kurta even closer, if that was possible. “I do believe that I liked it better when you called me by my first name.”

“I’ll do that when hell freezes over,” Kurapika hissed, trying not to get too comfortable. “Now let me go, or I won’t be held accountable for the consequences.”

“But I thought that you could never be mad at me, Kurapika,” Lucilfer replied smugly, and Kurapika closed his eyes and counted to ten. Damn it! I knew those words would come back to bite me later!

“So you remember everything?” Kurapika hazarded, still trying to pry the other man’s fingers off of his waist. 

All he got was a hum in response, and if Kurapika had been any less conscious of his situation, he might have called it cute. 

“You’re not going to let this go, aren’t you?”

Kurapika could practically feel Kuroro smile into his back. “This whole situation or you? Well, no for both.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Aww, but you loved me yesterday.”

Scoffing, Kurapika paused in his attempts to free himself in favor of turning to look at the Phantom Troupe leader. “That was when you were still a more complacent and agreeable kid, dumbass.”

“That just means that I’ll have to make you love me at this age, too.”

“That’s gross. Almost pedophilic for me,” Kurapika retorted. 

“Not if we were interested in each other before I was turned into a toddler,” Lucilfer responded quickly. 

“You—I wasn't—what?” the blond was sure that his head was going to explode. 

“Ooh, this is going to be fun.”

Sorry, I have to cut this off here. Sorry for the weird-as-butt plot here, but let me now if you want to read more! I would really like to fully edit this blurb and further it, but I don’t know if I’ll find the time or inspiration to. This was super fun to write, but unfortunately I had to multi-task as I was doing so. I hope that you liked it!

[playfullyevil]

Walkabout chapter 3/3

The last part of my fic for The Magnus Archives

Jonathan is in trouble, what happens now? (aka: I am bad at summaries)

As always thanks to erikaangelchild for the beta!

**Edit** so I initially posted the whole thing as one big post but when I woke up the next day it had been cut off after the first chapter.  Now that post has the whole thing again? idk so this may be a repeat, I don’t even know anymore. 

Returning to consciousness was not a straightforward journey for Jon, he bobbed near the surface of awareness, brushing against it, but couldn’t quite seem to break through.  A slow drip of water echoed in what sounded to be a large space from very far away before retreating back into nothingness.  He thought he may have opened his eyes at one point.  There was dim light and soft shapes that stubbornly refused to focus but they didn’t last long.  Trying to concentrate was exhausting, his meager grip on reality slipped and all was again darkness.  

He might have been laying down but couldn’t quite tell in which direction “up” is hiding.  Maybe there was movement from somewhere around him but that could be his own breathing.  His thoughts were beginning to come into focus. Though they were disorganized as the archive he managed.

Used to manage. The thought came stumbling in a bit after the last.  Jon chose to take comfort that he was able to correct an error in his own thinking before fading out again.

Moving any part of his body seemed like more effort than he could bear at the moment.  Even the thought of opening his eyes seemed a herculean task.  He settled on passive observation to gather information. The dripping sound was back.  So, not deaf.  Put that in the column labeled “good news”, he remarked dryly to himself.  Ah, sarcasm, there’s another for column A.  

The dripping wasn’t loud or overly frequent but it was steady.  As far as he could tell, he wasn’t wet, more good news.  The air smelled damp to a degree that lined up with the water sound.  It took effort but his thoughts were beginning to coalesce in a more orderly fashion.  The desire to slip back into unawareness beckoned to Jon but he pushed past it.  

Okay, so musty smell and dripping water.  Sewer? No, a sewer would smell worse.  Basement? Maybe. Oh Christ! Please not the tunnels! Have I been brought back so the Not-Them could finish the job?

The thought prompted a sharp gasp of air which wheeled his attention back to his own body.  

His sense of awareness in space was much less confused than earlier.  Jon was not lying down as he initially thought.  He was seated, well slumped, in a high backed wooden chair.  His head lolled back and to the left, nestled between the chair back and his shoulder.  His arms rested on those of the chair, and his legs were planted on the floor roughly shoulder width apart.  It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions but the act of actually moving to do something about it still seemed still beyond his grasp.  

He thought about moving without actually succeeding in doing so for some time. He tried to focus on twitching his hand or stretching out his leg but his mind drifted back toward something akin to sleep before his muscles would obey.  Eventually, he managed to crack open his eyes.  The light was diffuse and the world was out of focus, but in a familiar way.  He wasn’t wearing his glasses. Unfortunate but not incapacitating.  His eyesight wasn’t that bad compared to some, just enough to give the world a soft focus like what they used in the old Star Trek reruns he saw as a child.  After a few blinks he was able to focus on what appeared to be the ceiling of a cellar of some kind.

His face and mouth itched enough that the urge to scratch finally overrode the weight of inertia he seemed to be under. His hand twitched in the direction of his face but never reached its destination.  Not for lack of trying though.  His wrist was secured firmly to the chair. Both were.  Legs too he discovered a moment later.  Damn.

Jon struggled to lift his head and get a better look at his situation.  The blood that had collected in the back of his skull drained readily as gravity took over.  The world tilted making him lightheaded and a bit nauseous.  The sensation reminded him exactly why he hadn’t touched tequila since university.  Facing forward, he focused on what appeared to be a door and took several steadying breaths while he waited for the room to cease its swaying.  

Stomach and brain mostly settled, Jon took stock of the room, at least what he could see from his vantage point. The area in front of him was about three meters across.  The wall was old brick but to Jon’s relief, they were red and not the black brick that lined the tunnels under the Institute.  A rough hewn door was placed centrally in the wall.  Light filtered in from somewhere above and behind him.  He had no way of knowing how far the room extended behind him but if he had to guess, he was in what was once a coal storage room similar to the one in his grandmother’s basement.

Looking down at himself in the low light he saw his arms and legs secured to those of the chair by means of silver duct tape.  At some point while he was out his coat had been removed, but it was not so cold for that to be a problem.  Jon pulled at his bonds to no avail. He was likely to have bruises show up in a couple of days if he wasn’t careful.

If I live that long.

A rue laugh huffed out of him.  The skin around his mouth still itched and burned a bit but he wasn’t gagged.  The thought of yelling for help occurred to him. Judging from how thick the walls appeared and the lack of outside noises filtering down from above, it was unlikely that anyone but his captor would hear his cries for help.

“If screaming could help me, I doubt I would be capable of doing it at present.” The words came out dry, in a way that pricked at the back of his throat uncomfortably.  His attempt at clearing it sent him into an outright coughing fit.  A wave of dizziness passed over him as he coughed, but nothing as severe as earlier.  When it cleared, he still felt a bit off but less akin to his idiot uni binge drinking, and more like two ciders on an empty stomach.  Whatever it was seemed to be clearing out of his system at a decent pace.

Small favors, I suppose.

Jon swallowed carefully and sighed, “Well I’m not just going to sit here and wait for death or…” Sighing again he set about pulling free one of his hands.  The left one seemed to have a bit more give.  Working methodically, he felt he was making some minor progress at least. The tape around his wrist seemed to be stretching a little.

Maybe, just maybe…   Tucking his thumb as much as he could Jon winced as he did his best to squeeze his hand from its restraint.  

The sound of someone descending creaking stairs stopped him cold.

Jon gave another frantic tug and let out a pained hiss of breath when the tape refused to give way.  It was no good, with enough time he might have been able to work free one of his hands but he no longer had that time.  The footsteps finished their decent and the crisp sound of hard soled shoes rang across the stone floor as they approached the door.  

Bottling down on the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Jon closed his eyes and resumed the closest thing he could recall to the position from which he had awoken.  Doing his best to even out his breathing, he waited.  There was a click from behind the door and through closed eyes, he could tell a light had been switched on.  

More sounds, a ring of keys, the turning of a lock, a door opening.  Whoever it was stepped through and shut the door behind them but did not seem to lock it.  Jon couldn’t remember if there had been a lock on this side of the door, he hadn’t thought to check.  

A disappointed sigh came from the air in front of him.  “I know you’re awake, Jon.  You can stop this play acting.”

He considered continuing to feign unconsciousness simply to spite the man whose voice he identified as belonging to his former boss.  Ultimately, Jon decided against provoking a suspected murderer.  There didn’t seem to be an obvious threat in the statement but his voice was firm and discouraged argument.

Cracking open his eyes, Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, stood framed against the wooden door.  At first glance, he may have appeared casual but Jon knew that every move Elias made had an undercurrent of power and control.  He wore creased brown trousers paired with matching jacket.  Above a dark blue V-necked sweater, a white shirt collar peaked out, secured at the neck by a knotted, paisley tie. No signs of the day’s previous struggle rumpled his immaculate clothes. He stood, back straight, and in his left hand he held a glass of water with a pair of glasses hooked between his fingers.

“That’s better,” he said with an edge of satisfaction and took a step towards Jon.

Jon flinched away, pressing himself as far back in the chair as he could.  The sudden movement overbalanced him and he began to tip backward.  Elias’s hand shot out and grabbed the chair back before it could fall, the sleeve of his jacket brushed against Jon’s ear.

Jon tugged again at his bindings, trying to squirm away from the man now looming over him while Elias settled the chair firmly on the floor.

“Shhhh, Jon, calm down.” Elias’s hand moved from the chair to Jon’s shoulder.  He squeezed in what may have been an attempt at comfort or what could have been a threat.  Judging by how close the hand was to his neck and how firm his grip was, Jon really couldn’t be sure either way. Elias’s eyes met his and he cocked his head ever so slightly, and gave a small smile.  Again, Jon was unable to discern intended comfort or threat.

Whether from the touch, the words, the eye contact, or simply paralyzed by blind fear Jon stilled.

Elias gave Jon’s shoulder another squeeze before releasing him and stepping back.  

“Elias, what is going on? Where am I and why have- “

“Would you like some water?” the older man cut him off, “You must be thirsty.”

The words had a genuine sounding kindness to them that made Jon pause. At the mention of thirst, he swallowed and coughed once.  “Um… yes actually, I…”  His eyes shifted from Elias to around the room before landing once again on his former boss.  “What are you playing at?  What is all… this?” he gave a halfhearted tug against the chair to punctuate his words.  

“I couldn’t have you running off again before we had a proper chance to chat.”

“I, uh…What?”  

“Would you have come willingly if I had asked nicely?”

“Probably not.”

“Precisely.”

Elias produced a knife from his pocket and opened it with a click making Jon’s heart skip a beat.  

“Do calm down,” Elias scolded as if addressing a particularly disobedient puppy.  “You’ll need a free hand if you want to drink the water.  I’m not going to feed you like an infant.”

The older man bent down and slid the sharp looking blade between Jon’s wrist and the chair it was held to.  A quick motion sliced through the bunched tape and Jon’s left hand was free.  Elias took a smooth step back before Jon had more than the briefest flicker of a thought to make a grab for the knife.  

His newly freed hand throbbed slightly as the blood returned to full circulation.  Red marks on his wrist stood out in stark contrast to his pale flesh.  He flexed his hand experimentally and shook out his arm once before bringing it up to scratch his face.  It was more tender than he thought and he winced when he came across what seemed to be a sore on the side of his mouth.

“Chemical burn,” Elias responded to the unasked question, “chloroform has a rather low vapor pressure. An unfortunate side effect but nothing too severe, should heal in a couple of days.”  

The hand holding the knife had been lowered but he made no move to put it away. “Are we going to have a problem?”

Jon fixed Elias with an incredulous look but managed to bite back the words threatening to spill out of him.  Are we going to have a fucking problem!? You kidnapped me! I’m tied to a goddamn chair! Of course, we have a problem!

“Any new problems at least.” Elias amended, reading the look on Jon’s face.  He held up the glass of water, not quite offering it just yet. Not a drop had been spilled despite Elias having moved suddenly to catch his falling chair.  Of course, Elias would be the kind of person who could carry a cup full to the brim down a flight of stairs without a drop ending up on the saucer.

Wincing as he passed his hand over his mouth again he managed to grind out a, “No, I suppose not.”

Anger was replacing his previous fear and the impulse to resist at every possible moment was strong.  The picture Jon’s logical brain was piecing together however, implied that Elias didn’t want him dead.  Not yet at least.  Elias wanted something, whether as an agent of Beholding or as something else, only time would tell.  But that meant that he had time to pick his moment later.

The older man fixed Jon with the full force of his gaze, scrutinizing him.  A few moments later he stepped forward to hold the water within Jon’s reach.  

It was warm to the touch and lighter than he had expected.  Plastic, not glass as he had originally assumed.  That definitely lowered its value as any kind of weapon.  Jon caught a faint hint of lemon and some kind of sweetness when he sniffed at the liquid.  Was he trying to hide some kind of poison?  Jon met Elias’s gaze over the glass and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

“Really, Jon?  Why would I poison you?  If I wanted you dead you never would have woken up in the first place.  You had a rather nasty coughing fit while you were unconscious.  It seemed you could do with a bit of honey lemon water.  No one is forcing you to drink it, dump it on the floor for all I care.”

The thought of throwing the drink in Elias’s face was quite appealing.  Anything to rumple the older man’s proper appearance and bring him down a peg or two.  It wouldn’t be worth it though.  As glorious as the mental image was, truth be told, Jon’s throat was dry and sore.  If he threw this away it was doubtful he would be getting more anytime soon.  

Jon raised the glass to his lips took an experimental sip.  The warm drink was indeed soothing on his sore throat.  He paused, waiting to see if his previous nausea or drowsiness returned.  When none did he continued drinking.  

Jon nodded to Elias, “Are those my glasses?”

“They are.  Would you like them?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Elias stepped forward once again, extending the glasses.  It was a bit awkward with only one hand to work with but eventually Jon managed to get them settled on his face.  The world came into focus, giving him access to a few more details.  Elias’s crisp suit had dark blue pinstripes matching the sweater he wore.  But more interestingly, a red mark stood out on Elia’s temple. It would seem Jon had managed to clip him with a wild punch or an elbow during the attack. Seeing that the older man hadn’t made it out completely unscathed caused Jon to smile slightly.

If Elias noticed the change in expression, he did not react.  

“Jon,” he began, “you are not a stupid man but you certainly have been behaving as one lately.”

“Says the psychotic killer.” Jon spat, glancing toward the knife.

“Rather messy work were I to guess, and not something undertaken lightly.” Elias said darkly, contemplating the knife in his hand briefly before returning his gaze to the Archivist.  “And I’ll thank you not to interrupt me.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at Elias but did not speak.

“As I said, you’re not a stupid man.  However, bumbling your way through morning rush hour…” Elias made a tsk noise as he folded the knife with a practiced motion and returned it to his pocket.  “You nearly walked right into a trap.”

“It would seem I did walk into a trap!” he used his free hand to gesture to the basement cell they currently inhabited.

“Though it may not look it, it was in fact, a rescue.”

Jon scoffed.  “In that case I don’t suppose you’ll mind if I get myself out of here.” He began to work at the tape holding his right arm to the chair.  

“Jon,” Elias warned, “Don’t”

The command gave him pause, but a heartbeat later he resumed work.

“You will be released when we are finished here, but until then-“  Elias seized Jon’s wrist with surprising strength.  “This is for your protection as much as mine, we are worried you are going to hurt yourself.”

Jon managed to twist free from Elias’s grip and land a punch to the side of his head.  The older man stumbled back with a cry of surprise and pain.  Jon scrabbled at the tape wrapped around his still bound wrist.  It was too bunched from his earlier escape attempts to tear easily.

He had managed to work a small tear started along one edge when a hand caught him across the face, stunning him.  His ears rung, his head swam, and he tasted blood.  Then Elias had him by the throat and pulled him forward.

“Jonathan Sims, I am not an unreasonable man but you seem determined to test my limits” Every syllable was clipped, clear, and enunciated with precision.  Only the strong pulse of the vein on his neck, of which Jon had a close-up view, betrayed anger in Elias’s calm demeanor.  

Blood pounding in his ears Jon grasped at the hand around his throat, desperately to pry free the squeezing fingers.  No good, darkness was creeping at the edges of his vision, he had to try something else.  Abandoning his previous plan of attack, he decided to go for the eyes.  Elias was fast, almost as if he had anticipated the move and with his free hand batted away Jon’s attack.

Releasing his throat, Elias grabbed Jon’s arm in both hands and slammed it back against the chair’s wooden arm sending a shock of pain up his elbow. Through great gasps of air and a subsequent coughing fit, he was dimly aware of the older man reaching behind the chair to retrieve a roll of tape.  Using one hand to press down on Jon’s now quite sore wrist he wrapped the tape around several times, much more tightly than before.  After a quick look at the state of it, the process was repeated on his right arm.  

Jon’s hands throbbed as the bindings began cutting off circulation.  He grunted and pulled at them to no avail before sagging back down in the chair, defeated.  

The commotion had mussed Elias more than a bit.  His hair in every which way, jacket out of place, and tie askew.  There had still been a bit of water in the glass and what was left had managed to spill down the knee of his trouser legs.  The placement and quantity weren’t all that evocative of having pissed himself but Jon took what little comfort he could at his former boss’s expense.

The older man undid his top button and began pulling at the knot of his tie. Taking piece of paisley fabric off, he folded it and stowed it away in the jacket’s inside pocket. He brushed the residual water from his slacks then shed his jacket and folded it over one arm.  He raked his hand through his hair and took a breath to compose himself.  

The end result was the most casually dressed he thinks he’s ever seen Elias.  Tim had once made a joke that the Bouchard children must all born wearing perfectly tailored suits.  Martin had chimed in with, “Bespoke Babies, by Bouchard” It had actually managed to illicit half a rare laugh out of Jon.  That was back before Prentiss, when the archival team were all on speaking terms.

“Are you finished having your tantrum?” Elias sighed.

Jon glowered and shifted in his chair to a more comfortable position.  Flexing his bound hands, he said nothing but reluctantly nodded once.

“Good.” He regarded the man seated before him for moment, seeming to look almost through him. “You need to be more careful.  All it took was a few notes from Nikolai Denikin’s steam organ to send you flying away in a panic.”

“How do you know about- “

“How do you think, Jon? Watching is what we do. You were reasonably well hidden from them before but after today, I fear they will be narrowing their focus on you.  The archives are protected but I cannot let you return to them just yet.  We need those statements.”

“What?  I don’t- What-? The statements?”  Jon was suddenly at a loss. “And what makes you think I would want to ever set foot in that cursed building again!?”

“You’re the Archivist,” Elias said without a trace of irony, “you belong there.  It is more a home to you than you have ever had or ever will.”

It was something he knew deep down but was unwilling to admit.  Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, marked by Beholding, belongs in the Archives.  No matter what he does, how he tries to fight against it, he will always return to the Archive.  That realization hit him like a physical weight and he blinked back tears.  

“As for the missing statements, they have a way of finding their way back to the Archivist even if was an Archivist who initially stole them.  For some reason the statements we need the most are being prevented from returning to the Archive itself.  Once you left, lo and behold, they started showing up at your door.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Once you stop fighting and accept your role you will be able to answer that for yourself.”

“Stop fighting…”

“Yes.  At least with us, Jon.  For now.  Larger things are coming and we need you with us on this one.”

“The Unknowing?”

“The Unknowing.  Gertrude hid things away from us, things we need for the coming battles.  Those statements give us the shape of what we’re up against.” Urgency crept into Elias’s voice as he spoke.  “Pieces are moving sooner than we anticipated and it is crucial we see the whole playing field before the fight begins.”

“So, you need me to stay in hiding, waiting for breadcrumbs from my dead predecessor.” Jon leaned forward, tape digging into his arms, “My predecessor, whom you murdered in cold blood.”

“I told you, I don’t want to hurt you.  There are larger things at stake than the life of any one person,” his voice hardened, “even if they are the Archivist.” His eyes met with Jon’s and held them there.

“Would you like some time to think on this?”

The two men stayed that way for some time, eyes locked on one another.  Jon held is gaze for as long as he was able but in the end, blinked first. Elias looked resigned as he pulled out the knife from his pocket.

The Archivist held his face impassive as the older man approached.  

The knife opened with a click.

Elias crouched, bringing himself to eye level with Jon.  The Archivist closed his eyes and waited.

There was a sharp tug at his left leg, then his right.  Jon opened his eyes to see Elias evaluating the much tighter tape restraining his arms.  The older man seemed to contemplate this for a moment before folding away his knife and getting to work peeling up the end, unwinding the tape from around Jon’s arm.  The last few loops had dug in deeply and he hissed out a noise of pain as they came away.  

Before he could pull his arm away completely from the chair, Elias placed a firm, but oddly gentle hand on the back of his hand.  “Not yet.”  He made quick work of the other arm before stepping back and nodding.

Jon’s hands ached and throbbed in time with his beating heart as circulation in his fingers was restored.  His left wrist was especially tender and he took turns massaging one then the other.  

“Am I free to go?”

“Yes.  Of course, you are still wanted by the police so I would advise against returning to your flat. I did however, take the liberty and you will find some clothes and cash upstairs”

The thought of Elias rummaging around his flat was not a pleasant one.  Especially after the man had framed him for murder.  

“Detective Tonnor drew her own conclusion on the matter.  I never suggested you were the culprit.”

How did he-?

“You’re very easy to read, Jon.  Don’t worry, we’ll work on that when you get back.”

Jon stood to meet Elias’s gaze. “’When I get back?’ How long do you suppose that will be?”

“That depends on how many statements need to find their way back to you. We’ll be in touch.”

“If I can’t go home and I can’t go back to the Magnus Institute, where am I supposed to go?”

“Back to Georgina Barker’s, of course.  Do clean yourself up a bit before you go, you know how she worries.  Lucky for you it is cold enough for long sleeved shirts.” He said, glancing down and the angry marks on Jon’s wrists.  

The Archivist’s hands balled into fists and he imagined punching the smug expression off Elias Bouchard’s face. He forced it down and made himself open his hands.

Elias raised his eyebrows and seemed genuinely pleased.  It was unsettling.

“I don’t want to put her in danger.  Is there any way to guarantee her safety?”

“Almost certainly not.  No one is ever safe, especially with what is coming.  What I can tell you is that she is in no more danger than any other person in the city.  Provided you don’t lead them directly to her door.

“Keep an eye out, you’re better at spotting these kinds of things than you know.  I would never have hired you otherwise.  This won’t be the first time they try to flush you out.  They want you to act without thinking.  Don’t let them dictate your behavior.  You were lucky I got to you before they did.”

Jon scoffed and continued rubbing his wrist, “Yeah, lucky.”

“You have no idea how lucky.” Elias fixed Jon with an intense stare.  “I did what I had to do quickly and quietly.  If you had managed to cause a scene the both of us, along with anyone else who’s attention you called, would be off somewhere having our flesh peeled away with excruciating slowness all while they render the fat from our still living bodies.  Believe me, they can extend that process for months.  Every moment an agony, unable to move, unable to sleep, unable to scream.”

That stopped Jon cold.  The two men stood in uncomfortable silence.

“Do keep an eye on cats.” Elias suddenly remarked.  “They don’t react favorably to aspects of the Stranger.  Think of them as an… early warning signal.”

“Okay…?” Jon responded, off balance as the tension bled away. “Are there any lying in wait nearby?  Aspects, not cats.”

“Not here, they seem to be focusing on the south side for now.  They will probably disperse soon enough, they typically don’t have the patience for a drawn-out hunt.”

“Comforting.” Jon remarked dryly.

“We take what little comfort where we can.” Elias shifted his jacket to his other arm before opening the door to the small room and walking out.  “I need to get back to the Institute. You’ll see yourself out?”

“Fine, sure.”

Elias nodded, turned, and walked away.  As he climbed the stairs.  Jon could swear he saw a hint of something metallic tucked in the waistband at the small of the other man’s back.

The Archivist, and that’s what he is no matter how he struggles against it, stretched and turned to survey the room now that he’d been freed from that damn chair.  His limbs ached from sitting on its hard surface for who knows how long.  

Off to the side of the wooden chair, he spotted his coat sitting atop what appeared to be a large roll of industrial garbage bags.  He tried not to think too hard about it as he retrieved his coat.  Footsteps creaked on the floorboards overhead and the sound of a door opening then closing drifted down from above.  Elias had left.  Time to retrieve whatever clothes and money are waiting for him upstairs before doing the same.  

As his hand hovered over the switch to the light for that small room, Jon remembered Martin describing how he found the previous Archivist.  A small square room, underground, in a wooden chair, covered in dust, three gunshots to the chest.  He suppressed a shudder.  It would seem Gertrude Robinson’s chat with Elias Bouchard ended differently than his own.  

Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, flipped the switch and turned to leave.  He had work to do.

[thorne93]

Decisions, Decisions (Part 5)

Prompt: Imagine Tom Hiddleston has a crush on you and he is feeling jealous of James McAvoy on “The Graham Norton Show” because James talks about how great the chemistry was between you, his co-star, and him in your latest film.

Warnings: language, sexual content, adult content…?

Word Count: 5007

Note: Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ - This fic would NOT be possible without you, and @amarvelouswritings​ - who let me badger the hell out of her. Thank you both a million! Used @theartofimagining13​ imagine

Also, some of the timelines are going to be off in this, to make stuff fit, and James’ wife and child are nonexistent - nothing against them, just easier to write if he didn’t have an ex wife and child. Texts are in italics

Tags: @wordacadabra   @frenchfrostpudding @lisssays @cocosierra94  @staceycasey123 @lucianightwolker @tacohead13

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night you went to a few stores for some dresses. You found one thing you liked, and you reserved it for the “other” dress. But for the main dress to go to the premiere with Tom, you needed something dazzling. You spoke with Trish, your stylist, and asked her if she could work with Versace on a design you had in mind. She said she would work on it.

Tom was texting and calling quite frequently, sending you two more bouquets of flowers with another poem on each card. The calls became more familiar, a little more flirty, and you sent him a new watch to his hotel and some chocolates - since you knew they were his guilty pleasure.

James had contacted you a few times but he had a couple of interviews related to Split coming out soon so he was rather busy. But in a way it was good because you were able to spend more time and attention on Tom - that was a good thing, right? You weren’t so sure, you were already in so deep with both of these men, you didn’t need to have the decision be any harder than it was.

The premiere was tonight, Tuesday night and you were getting ready while Skyping with Ida.

“How is life going, secret agent?” she asked with a laugh.

“It’s good,” you answered as you grabbed the Versace gown that was one of a kind, pulling it out and grabbing the matching accessories Trish had picked for you.

“So….do they know yet?”

“No,” you said shrugging, taking your tablet into the bathroom while you curled your hair at your vanity and began applying makeup in your cute Victoria’s Secret robe that you got while being a guest model on the annual fashion show.

“But haven’t they seen the tabloids?”

“Yes, and I told them it was just dinner.”

“So you lied,” she surmised.

“No. We did have dinner.”

She sighed. “Alright. I can see you aren’t going to be honest with them.”

“Ida, how can I? If I come out and say ‘I’m dating both of you because I don’t know who I like more’, they are going to make the decision for me and I don’t want that. Let’s get of this topic please. How is the article coming?”

“I meet with MTV in an hour. So far so good. I got some good material from Guns n Roses.”

“Nice. I bet that was fun. Where are you, anyway?”

“For today and tomorrow I’m in New Orleans.”

“Cool. Have I shown you the gown?” you questioned.

“You haven’t! Let me see, let me see!” she demanded excitedly. You opened the garment bag and showed her the red velvet long sleeve dress that had a neckline that plunged with diamond strings between the cleavage, and opened on the sides with more rows of diamonds and a slit that was only knee high.

“My god, woman, you’re going to give poor Tom a heart attack in that!” she exclaimed, admiring the dress.

“You think?” you questioned, unsure.

“Oh yeah. Those are going to show off the girls very nicely. You’re going to be stunning! I can’t wait to see all of the shots of you two together. Oh, how are you going to keep this a secret from James?”

You shrugged as you put the dress back up and finished with your make up. “If he asks about it, I’ll just say Tom asked me to come as a friend. You really needn’t worry about this,” you said.

She threw up her hands in a surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it be. I’m just jealous, I suppose,” she informed and stuck her tongue out. “Oh, I gotta go. Have fun! Lots of love!”

“Bye, sweetie.” You hung up the call and finished getting ready. You slid the dress on, put on the black velvet peep toe pumps to match, a diamond choker and matching earrings, grabbed your satin clutch and went to the kitchen to wait on your date. You were actually early for once.

James texted you.

“Just thinking about you, hoping you’re having a good night.”

“I am,” you responded, a smile coming across your face, as his words sunk in. “And you?”

“It would be better if I was with you.”

“You’ll see me on set tomorrow,” you reminded, ignoring how that comment made you feel.

“Not soon enough. Can I see you tonight?”

“I already have plans. I’m sorry. What about tomorrow night?”

“Aye aye, mate, that will work. See you tomorrow then.”

“au revoir pour le moment”

The doorbell rang and you happily skipped over to it.

“Tom!” you greeted, throwing the door open.

“Mademoiselle,” he greeted with a wide grin. “You look absolutely stunning. I see your stylist put my money to good use,” he remarked.

“This is actually a custom design I made,” you informed.

“Oh? It becomes you. It’s rather...daring,” he noted with a gulp.

You shrugged delicately. “Yes, well when you’re this good looking, why hide it all?”

“Indeed. Shall we?” he offered, gesturing to a car waiting for us.

“Absolutely.” You grabbed your clutch from the counter and locked the front door. You two got inside the luxury sedan and headed on your way to the premiere.

“Are you excited?” you asked.

“I’m nervous, to be frank. I always feel uneasy seeing films I’m in for the first time.”

“Why is that?”

“I feel like I’m my worst critic. I feel like I will critique every little thing I do.”

“And do you?” you wondered.

“Most of the time no, but then I do and I sit there wondering if everyone else noticed the blunder as well.”

You shook your head with a gentle laugh. “Tom, you’re a wonderful actor. Everyone loves you, and hell even if you have one miniscule facial cue that was off, so what? The directors and producers must’ve liked it,” you said. “I know you and I know how hard you work and how good you are, don't let anyone persuade you differently.”

“That’s very sweet,” he said before suddenly leaning in to kiss you, taking you by surprise, but to be honest, kissing him felt amazing after not seeing him for so long. When he pulled away from the loving kiss, he was still rather close. In a low voice, he said,  “Thank you for accompanying me, I know you’re busy.”

“Oh please, I’m happy to come. I’m just blessed you chose me over about a million women who would kill for this opportunity.”

Tilting your head up with his fingers on your chin, he looked into your eyes and said, “Yes, but they aren’t you.” He planted a few more kisses on your ruby red lips before pulling himself away. “I’m sorry, if we keep going we’ll smudge your makeup, and we can’t have that.”

You cleared your throat, just then realizing your arousal. “Mmm, no we can't have that.”

Finally, you made it to the premiere and you joined the line of cars that was letting celebrities out onto the teal carpet.

“You ready?” you asked, trying to get Tom spirited for his debut.

“So long as you’re by my side,” he breathed, gazing at you with that lost-in-the-moment look. He was swimming in your eyes and you couldn’t help but dive right into his grey-blues, the moment was cut short as Tom’s door was opened and he was greeted by Luke, Tom’s agent.

Luke bent down and leaned his head in. “Hey, Tom, you can go ahead. Oh, hey Y/N, how are you?” He waved slightly at you.

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m fine, Luke, how have you been?”

“I’m on my toes with this one here,” he informed, gesturing to Tom. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you. New suit?”

“Why yes it is.” He looked up and then bent back down. “Okay, it’s your turn.”

Tom climbed out then helped you out, immediately the flashes from dozens of cameras were blinding you. You never understood how the other celebs didn’t get dizzy as hell with all the flashing and shouting and chaos. People were calling to Tom for questions about Kong, Thor, other projects, and you… To dodge the question about you, he simply said you were there as a friend, thankfully. You hadn’t discussed the whole “Do we confirm or deny us dating?” PR bullshit yet, and the general rule in Hollywood was - if you haven’t discussed it, you deny it. The last thing anyone wanted in this business was for their secret lover to be outed when they didn’t want to be.

You took several photos together as Tom had his hand on your waist and your hand around his. While Tom was being asked about his films, you were pulled by a few people to ask about Juxtaposition and Renegades, the one you just got signed onto. Tom stepped away from you only a few times when he was asked to photograph with Sam and Brie. Brie and you complimented each other’s dresses and hugged, promising to talk after the movie.  

After what seemed like a million questions, hugs, familiar faces, new faces, autographs, photos, you made it to the end of the teal carpet and into the theater where you sat with Tom, Brie, Sam, John, and then all around you were the directors, producers, and editing team. The movie was absolutely incredible and you leaned over and whispered little compliments to Tom each time his acting was so on point you wanted to just scream. As much as you were an actress, you were a huge fan of films. You couldn't help but forget you knew half of these people as they transformed into their roles. It’s a stunning and surreal experience to say the least.

Once the film was done, you were lead to a private room for the after party which was huge. Music was playing songs from the soundtrack of the movie, so many guests were already dancing, colleagues of the trade were greeting each other, a few photos were being snapped. You and Tom walked in and soon Brie found you two.

“There you are, hey guys!” she greeted, coming up and hugging each of you. “Y/N, I haven’t seen you in like a year. How are you? I hear you’re working on...Juxtaposition, is that right?”

“Yep,” you replied nodding. “I’m fine. You did wonderfully, by the way! Excellent work in Kong.”

“Oh,” she said lightly, waving you off. “He’s the real star, the stud on your arm,” she insisted, motioning to Tom standing next to you who was blushing now.

Tom smiled and offered, “I’ll go get us some drinks. Brie, anything?”

“Champagne, please,” she requested kindly. She turned back to you as he left. “So, Tom, huh? Is it serious?”

“We don’t know yet,” you said honestly. “We’re just...going with it for now.” You shrugged as you both eyed him walking across the room.

“Well he’s an amazing man. He’d be a hard one to let go. Unless you’ve got someone on the side…” she insinuated.

Your eyes flickered to her and they said more than your words could.

“Gotcha, I’m not saying anything. Not my place to judge or say anything,” she said.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “And you? Anyone new?”

“Not that anyone knows about,” she informed with a devious expression.

“You scandalous girl, you,” you teased nudging her with your arm.

Tom came back with champagne for everyone.

“A toast,” you said, raising your glass. “To your successful, wonderfully acted, amazing movie, may it blockbust until the cows come home!” All of you laughing as you clinked glasses.

Brie excused herself as you and Tom sipped on your drinks for a few minutes, talking about the movie and your comments on it. He got pulled away by another director and said he would be right back. While you waited, you texted Ida about the movie and your night thus far.

You were so busy Tweeting, Facebooking, and checking Instagram, and being approached by a few other colleagues, that you hadn’t noticed Tom was gone for thirty minutes. Finally, he returned.

“I am so sorry about that, every chance I had to come back I got pulled another direction.”

“It’s fine,” you assured kindly, you knew just how that could happen at functions like these.

“Let me make it up to you. Would you care for a dance?”

“Yes, I’ve been dying to!” He grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. The song that was currently playing was rather upbeat and allowed you to dance almost a tango sort of a dance. You were dancing so well that a crowd began to form. Tom had several dancing lessons through his career and was an excellent partner and a terrific leader. Your feet swept across the dance floor as you glided. Somewhere in your bones you knew you two looked marvelous as the crowd of friends and stars watched you two move about the floor, making it your own. Too soon, the song ended but then it went into a perfect waltzing song and you thought you would squeal from delight. He took you in the proper frame and you began waltzing. Again, the crowd watched, mesmerized by every move you two made.

His hand in yours and his hand on your waist gave you a wave of butterflies as he led you across the floor, staring into your eyes and you staring back. The intimacy was so thick between you two it made your knees weak. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a scene for a romance movie. The dancing continued for the rest of the evening, you knew your feet would be sore as all hell tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

The after party ended and some people were going to the “after-after parties” but Tom knew you had to work in the morning so you two piled into the car and set for your home.

It was quiet and dark in the car, the perfect atmosphere for you to play with his hands, lacing your fingers around his, tracing little patterns.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Tom informed in a low voice in your ear.

“Me too,” you said as you peered up through thick lashes. Like someone flicked on the electricity, the lust erupted between you two and Tom was leaning over you, his mouth on yours as your hands moved to his curls and pulled slightly on them, causing him to bite your lip as a sexy laugh escaped both of you. It took a hell of a lot of willpower to not practically jump him there in the backseat, so much so that you found yourself a few times slightly grinding in your seat. You continued to kiss, nip, bite until you were at your house.

Watching Tom on screen for Kong was incredibly sexy, and you just happened to be dating him. Needless to say, you had a scratch that needed itching after watching him handle a gun and be incredibly masculine.

Courage capturing you for a moment, you asked quietly, “Would you like to come inside?”

“I’d love to.”

He got out and helped you out and you lead him inside by his hand, a giant grin painted on your faces. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed your face in his hands and began kissing you heatedly as he pushed you against the door, his hips and arousal pressing against you, making you melt into his arms. You couldn’t help but pick your legs up suddenly and wrap them around his waist. This seemed to launch him into a full blown frenzy as he carried you like that to the bedroom and had his way with you. He was better than you’d ever imagined.

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

The next morning, you woke up earlier than your alarm, kissed Tom on his back, and went out and make coffee, a frittata and some homemade fruit waffles in your silk, short robe.

“Smells good,” Tom said, his boxers hanging low on his waist as he came into the kitchen, making that familiar throb appear between your legs.

“Thank you, it’s almost ready.”

“You looked damned sexy with after-sex hair, in nothing but a robe,” he complimented as he came up behind you while you cooked, rubbing all over your body. You got lost in the sensation quickly and turned around and started kissing him over and over again. He picked you up, turned off the stove, and put you on the counter and took you again, amazingly well. Your name on his lips sounded like heaven as he thrust into you until you both found release. As well for him, shouting “Tom” over and over, seemed to bring him closer each time you screamed it.

When you were done, you ran and got ready, eating quickly as you were dressing, Tom following suit. Your cars rolled up, ready to take you both to your destinations.

“I had a really great time last night,” you said as you walked out together into the cool morning air. “Thank you for the dresses, so much.”

“My pleasure. When can we see each other again?” he asked fervently.

You bit your lip. “I don’t know. I think filming is about to pick up some more. I’ll check my calendar and let you know, will that work?” None of that was a lie, thankfully. A lot of interviews were about to take place soon.

“Sure.” He smiled and kissed your forehead then climbed into his car as you made your way over to yours, ready to head to the set.

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

A little over a week had passed and Tom was keeping in contact most every day, sending sweet notes that made your day brighter, while James worked on set with you to make you laugh and feel sexy and vibrant and strong. They both ended up sending more gifts to your house. Tom sent a book, one of your favorite authors and it was a book you didn’t own yet. James sent you a locket with a note that said, “Fill it with memories to keep close to your heart.” He must’ve remembered you saying you missed your parents back home and how sometimes you felt a little homesick and lonely out here.

It seemed like life couldn’t get any more perfect, except now there was only one problem - who do you choose? You thought after the first two dates it would be easier, simple, but it wasn’t. They both possessed qualities that women craved in men, and more often than not, went above and beyond to make you feel special, not to mention you were attracted to both. This was supposed to be a quick experiment, two or three dates and then you’d leave one, but you found yourself unable to choose between your Brit and your Scot.

It was Friday and you had an show with Jimmy Kimmel and decided to wear the pink lacey dress that you bought with Tom’s generosity. It was cut short and made you look almost like a modern day princess, prim and proper.

When the show was over, you were in your hotel room, hoping to catch some sleep before your red-eye flight back to LA when James called.

“Hey, there,” he greeted, your favorite accent coming at you through the phone, immediately relieving you of all stress.

“Hey,” you greeted back softly.

“I saw the show. You were wonderful.”

“Yeah? You think?”

“Yeah, absolutely marvelous. The dress looked beautiful on you too, the pink really brought our your eyes.”

Without thinking, you replied, “Oh thanks, Tom bought it for me.” Shit. What did you just say?

“Tom, as in Tom Hiddleston?” he said carefully.

“Yeah,” you said innocently, trying to disbar any concern or suspicion, as you closed your eyes and you bit your lip.

A bit of silence passed on the phone as you anxiously awaited any response from him.

“I see. Are you sure there isn’t anything going on with him? He seems to be around a lot lately,” he said, a bit of annoyance in his voice.

“He’s just a friend,” you asserted and left it at that.

He laughed lightly on the other end of the line as he said, “I suppose I’m being a bit jealous, aren’t I? I’m sorry. Well it looks beautiful on you. Say, I was wondering if when you got back tomorrow if you’d like to run lines again?”

You chuckled seductively. “Run lines like we did last time where we got nothing done? Or run lines where we actually work?” you teased.

“We’ll see where the night takes us,” he flirted.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“See you when you get back, Y/N, I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Au Revoir,” you quietly said.

“Bonsoir ma fleur de minuit,” he responded beautifully. From what you remembered of your gathered French, he just told you, “Goodnight, my midnight flower.”

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

Saturday night, you made dinner and set the table and told James that you had made food so you could focus on work rather than pigging out on junk food like last time. You got wine chilled, made a quiche, some roasted potatoes, and made a dark chocolate cake for dessert. One thing you really missed from Oklahoma was all the home cooking, all the big meals, the family events….

James knocked on the door precisely at 6 and you welcomed him happily. You ate food, thanking him for his gifts, telling him you missed him and he returned the warmth. He said he was happy to do those things, he complimented your cooking, and was happy to see you again as well.

“Well, should we get through some of this scene for Monday?” you offered.

“Let’s. And hopefully we can get through it this time without someone distracting me,” he chastised.

You both stood from the dining room table as you made your way into the living room with your glasses of wine.

“I distracted you?” you asked.

“Well, I wasn’t the one to bring up Narnia,” he mentioned, shrugging with a playful expression.

“You’re just lucky I didn’t put on X-Men,” you warned, sticking your tongue as he sat on your couch.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You blushed as you turned your head away to sit your wine down on the coffee table.

“I...I-uh...I sort of...Have a crush on your character,” you blurted out so fast and mumbled you weren’t sure if he heard you.

“What was that?” he demanded through a small bout of laughter as he leaned up, trying to look at you.

“I...Have a crush on your character,” you said again, but slower and less mumbled.

He laughed as he leaned back and clapped, throwing his head back. “Oh that’s amazing. So you have a mutant kink? Or is it purely a Chuck kink?”

You took a sofa pillow and hit him with it. “Shut up,” you warned with a tease. “Can we just read our lines?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” he offered, throwing his hands up in an apologetic manner. He grabbed his script book and you grabbed yours. At first it was easy to get into character and you both read the lines seriously for about forty five minutes, a few times over before you moved on, and suddenly it was the makeout and sex scene that you had yet to shoot. You’d done two makeout scenes so far but this was the final one between your characters.

“Oh, we can skip over this if you want,” you said, shrugging, a blush creeping into your face. “I don’t think we need to rehearse that if you don’t want to.”

You looked up from your script to see what he wanted to do and you would’ve sworn someone put him under a lust spell. He was eyeing you hungrily, his pupils dilated as he alternated between biting his lip and licking it.

Your mouth and throat ran dry as you squeaked, “James?”

“Let’s rehearse it, if you don't mind.”

“I don’t mind,” you breathed, eyeing him.

You read your cues and started the kissing, gentle at first but then it was supposed to become more forceful, and James did just that. He pushed you with his hands on your shoulders onto the couch, his mouth molding with yours as you ran your hands long his back, your legs automatically coming to rest beneath him. His hands were rubbing your shoulders, then glided up to your hair as he pulled your head to the side and bit your neck, this wasn’t in the script at all but you weren’t about to stop it.

Eventually, you found your legs open and he was cradled between you as the kissing deepened, you pulled at the hem of his shirt and tugged it off, he was opening your blouse when your phone rang.

Between kisses, he asked, “Do you need to get that?”

You almost answered no, but then you realized it could be your family.

“Uh, maybe, it could be my family.”

“Ah,” he said as he climbed off of you and you jumped up and grabbed your phone from the counter. You saw Tom’s name across the screen and dashed into your bedroom and closed the door quietly.

“Hey, you,” you said, half hoping he would make this a quick call so you could return to what you were doing.

“Hey, how are you? Having a good weekend?”

“Terrific, how’s yours?”

“The usual. I had the London premiere today, then tomorrow I meet with Chris for something on Thor.”

“Ah, yeah, yeah.”

“Are you okay? You sound a little...busy?” he wondered.

“Oh, no, I was just...studying my lines.”

“Right, right! I’ll let you get back to it then, I should start getting ready anyhow. It was nice to hear you.”

“You too.”

“Well goodbye,” he said kindly.

“Bye.”

You hung up and rushed back out to the living room where James was waiting for you.

“Was it family?” he questioned nonchalantly.

“Uh, no, it was Tom,” you answered honestly. You were going to try being as honest as you could with them, even if a few lies got sprinkled in, it was killing you to do this to them but...you were selfish.

James scoffed as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. “For a guy who’s just your friend, he sure is around a lot,” he noted with an annoyed tone.

“James, please. He just--”

“Just what?” he demanded as he got up. “Y/N, we were in the middle of a moment there and you stomped on it for a friend. I don't mind if it was your family, I get it, you want to talk to them whenever you can or if it’s an emergency, that’s fine. But when I’m in between your legs, it would be nice if your attention was on me and not that British bastard,” he spat at you.

“No, James, I--”

But he ignored you as he went to the door, wrenched it open, then slammed it shut. You stood there, stunned. What were you going to do? You considered calling Ida, but your phone rang in your hand and you nearly jumped out of your skin. This time, it really was your family. Sighing, you answered.

“Hey, Mom,” you greeted, faking some cheer. You weren’t unhappy to hear from her, you were just distraught from James’ outburst.

“Hey, bubbles,” your mom replied with your nickname. You earned it growing up because you were constantly blowing bubbles and loved bubble baths. “How’s my celebrity daughter doing?”

“I’m doing,” you said simply as you started to clean up dinner. “How’re you, Mom?”

“Oh, I’m alright. I saw you in the news.”

“Yeah? What’d it say?”

“It says your dating those two European boys,” she informed. You groaned internally. You did not need this on top of what else was happening.

“Something like that.”

“Hmm, well be careful. Your daddy says those boys are only after one thing,” she warned.

“Lucky for me I’m after the same thing,” you said back, teasing in your tone.

“Y/N!” your mom responded and you could just see her shaking her head as you laughed.

“Oh, Mom, calm down. I’m just having fun. I’m dating some men, what’s the big deal?” you asked as you finished loading the dishwasher.

“Well, nothing I guess. They’re saying awful things about you though and it just makes me madder than a wet hen.”

“Eh, you can’t let it affect you. I don’t even read that stuff and when I do, I remind myself that no matter what I do, I’m going to have those comments happen,” you reminded.

She sighed. “I know, but you’re my daughter and the things they’re saying….”

“I know,” you said quietly. “They’re idiots, Mom, don’t listen to them.”

“I saw you on Jimmy Kimmel too! I recorded it and I’m going to show Bethany.”

Bethany was your next door neighbor back home and your mom’s best friend.

“Oh, good. Did you like it?”

“I loved it sweetie. I also saw you on that Graham Norton show.”

“Oh…” You laughed uneasily. “That was...uh...well that was just…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, dear, I was your age too once, remember?”

“Momma, you scandalous devil,” you teased with a grin.

“Hey, you’ve got it sweetheart, you need to flaunt it before age takes it away like mine.”

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Well thank you dear. Well I won’t hold you up, baby, I just wanted to check in. I love you, I’m going to go to bed.”

“I love you too. Tell Daddy I told him I love him too and tell everyone back home I said hi.”

“I will.”

You bid each other goodnight and hung up.

[astro-child]

pour up (body party)

pairing: jikook, yoontaeseok, namjin

rating: nc17

genre: alpha/beta/omega (abo) au, smut, fluff

warnings: switching, self-lubrication, praise kink, humiliation kink, knotting, chokers, morning sex, multiple orgasms, nipple play, biting/marking, blowjobs, top jungkook, top jimin, vibrators, thigh highs/stockings, lingerie/lace panties, barebacking, rimming, porn with plot, crossposted to ao3

a/n: aaaaand it’s up!!! sorry for the delay hehe I fell sick last night and also had to make some minor edits to the scenes ;; for @inarsics aka the sweetest person I’ve ever written a fic for ❤️ #stannar2k17!!!! this basically served as an excuse for me to write like preposterous amounts of fluff and smut (it literally starts with smut what am i doing somebody pls) oops but I loved the prompt so much I almost died squealing when I got it adkndjahdf

the prompt is tweaked a lil bit but jikook are both alphas (I lov alpha/alpha) and jimin’s basically the more laidback, subtle dom while kook is the on-the-surface alpha aka he fusses a lot over his mate and would literally do anything to protect jimin but is more of a sub in bed than chimchim!!! if you’re reading this, thank u sm & all reblogs/comments/likes are all super appreciated ♡♡♡♡♡♡

summary: “Jungkook and Jimin are spending their first Christmas together as mates. Thinking that they would have the whole day to themselves, Jungkook and Jimin are surprised when the boys drop by their apartment. Though Jimin is welcoming, Jungkook is disgruntled that he can’t spend any time alone with Jimin, and he does all he can to get some quality time with him whilst the boys are around.”

on the morning of christmas eve, jungkook wakes up in the middle of an orgasm to soft, plush lips stretched over his dick, back arching off the bed, fireworks exploding behind his eyes, moan involuntarily leaving his lips. and then he sinks down on the bed, fingers loosening the grip he has on the sheets around him, feeling boneless and like he’s missed out on the best part all at once.

jimin, on the other hand, doesn’t stop swallowing around him even as he comes, tonguing kittenlishly at jungkook’s slit, massaging his balls with those small, distractingly thick fingers of his, and the overstimulation has the younger alpha gasping, threading fingers into the his hair to tug at the strands in warning, sensation walking the fine line between pain and pleasure.

“hyung,” he croaks weakly, voice still thick with sleep, and jimin hums around him like the cocktease he is, feeling jungkook shake beneath him for a good few seconds before pulling off with an obscene pop.

dazed, jungkook lets his eyes flicker to meet jimin’s, chest rising and falling heavily. the sight seems to please jimin and the older smirks, caging the younger beneath him.

“that good?” he asks, taking care to push back the hair matted to jungkook’s forehead, accent flooding the edges of his words. his voice dips into a lower register, raspy, and jungkook nods dumbly, shivering from the mixed pheromones flooding the room, a little star-strucked, post-orgasm haze still working its way through his body. he’d always been extra sensitive in the morning, a fact jimin knows all too well. “’s too early.”

jimin smiles, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, littering soft kisses all over, paying special attention to the mate mark carved into the younger’s skin before trailing up, up, up until he presses their lips together.

jungkook grimaces at first, tasting himself on jimin’s tongue but the gentle way jimin treats him has him flushing down to his toes, feeling too much like a high school girl with a crush.

“good morning,” jimin whispers against his lips, pulling away to rest their foreheads together, grinning cheekily and jungkook grunts, turning away to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. he’s never going to admit it, but those cheesy, sweet lines in dramas had always gotten to him somehow.

jimin giggles happily, pinching his cheeks while cooing praises like so cute and my darling’s blushing, until jungkook shifts, accidentally grinding his knee into the older’s crotch and he chokes, musky arousal flooding the room.

“shit. fuck, kook, don’t do that,” jimin swears, shying away from the friction but jungkook is quick to chase, his own alpha instincts kicking in as he wraps arms around the older’s neck to lock their lips together messily, so fucking eager, fingers curling around the hairs on the base of jimin’s neck.

“how opposed are you, exactly, to riding me at eight in the morning?” he whispers into jimin’s ear later, breathless, winking suggestively when the older glances over, dominance coming into play, gripping jimin’s hipbones so tightly they both know there are going to be marks while nibbling on his earlobe and jimin whines, far too gone to argue.

needless to say, their neighbors aren’t very impressed.

jimin wakes up two hours later with a sore neck to an empty bed, the comforting mix of their two smells so dense he can taste it on his tongue, the space beside him still slightly warm and groans.

“kookie,” he calls, grunting something illegible as he gets up from the bed, stumbling carelessly towards the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly. there’s a slight limp in his step, and all jimin wants to do is flop back down on the bed with a certain someone and catch a christmas movie together, cuddling.

“jungkook-ah.”

the younger alpha doesn’t even hear him, standing in front of the stove, humming along to whatever song’s playing on the radio he’s plugged into. jungkook jumps when he feels hands slip around his waist, momentarily startled, but then relaxes into the older’s hold, pulling his earpieces out.

“oh, hyung! you’re up,” he beams, bunny teeth peeking out as jimin struggles to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. the fit is a little bit awkward, but honestly, neither of them would have it any other way. “I made breakfast! just give me like, three seconds, and I’ll bring it out.”

“instant ramen? really?” the older teases, biting back a grin.

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, defensive, frowning as he sets the two bowls onto the table. “it’s better than nothing okay! I even added eggs and cheese!”

“mhm,” jimin hums, eyes twinkling with adoration. “come here.”

he lets himself be backed into the counter before cupping the younger’s cheeks and pecking the crown of his forehead gently.

“you know that I’m just trying to tease you, right?”

jungkook rolls his eyes, grin quickly forming on his mouth, before it turns into a giggle and then a feat of laughter, throwing his head back in happiness. brat, jimin thinks fondly.

the younger even makes sure to bop the older on the nose as revenge.

later, they end up sprawled across the couch, legs tangled together, fingers intertwined like the cute gross couple they are, laptop rested between their legs, screening some romantic melodrama that jimin had somehow convinced him into watching. “don’t die!” jimin yells, sniffling already and jungkook tries to muffles a laugh.

“shut it, jeon jungkook. heartless jerk,” he mutters, wiping at his eyes and the younger noses into the back of his ear in apology.

“what if we were separated like that, huh?” jimin says, ranting on and on about how these kinds of films always have the cliche that unorthodox couples shouldn’t have a happy ending, but really, jungkook doesn’t hear anything after ‘we’ and ‘separated’. his mind reels with the thought of jimin falling in love with someone else, with an omega deserving of him, and leaving him alone to pick up the pieces, pain blooming in his chest.

“jungkook?” jimin asks slowly, sensing the uncomfortable tension in the younger’s body, pausing the movie to check on his mate. at this, jungkook snaps out of his daze, belatedly realizing that his nails have been digging into jimin’s skin painfully while in thought, quickly letting go with a gasp.

“babe…” jimin trails, voice soft, worried but apprehensive. “are you okay? is this about what I said? I swear I didn’t mean it, I was just so caught up in the movie—”

“your hand,” the younger blatantly ignores his words, rushing to blow on the swelling marks, a little panicked from having hurt the person dearest to him. jimin carefully takes his hand out from between jungkook’s palms, but the younger’s face falls anyway, looking like a kicked puppy.

“that’s not the point,” jimin says, frowning lightly, running fingers through his scalp, feeling jungkook relax beneath him, the younger sighing, closing his eyes and burying his face into the older’s neck.

“sometimes—sometimes I get nightmares about you leaving me.” he murmurs as fast as he can, but jimin hears his words well enough. “I dunno, it’s just—I don’t treat you well enough and you might find someone who you’ll fit with better than with me, love more than me—so yeah…I’m scared.”

they stay like that for a little while longer, jimin still massaging at his scalp with skilled fingers, movie entirely forgotten. and then,

“well, you should know I won’t. not for anyone in the universe, jeon jungkook.”

“hm, now that I think about it, that’s kind of why I let you claim me and bit right down on your shoulder three months ago to mark you, you know, jungkookie. have you forgotten?” the sentence kills whatever doubt he has towards jimin’s words and jungkook’s cheeks burn, the older bursting into a peal of laughter.

embarrassed, he kisses jimin on the cheek, a silent apology for having ruined their movie marathon. “you’re mine,” jimin whispers, breath ghosting over his cheek. “I never let anything of mine slip away.”

it sounds like something right out of a C-grade chick flick, or a badly screened porno, but something about the way jimin says it sets butterflies into his tummy, toes curling with happiness and god, jungkook’s fucking whipped.

they lean in with unparalleled harmony, invisible strings pulling them together and like this—

like this, jungkook thinks his mom was wrong to say that he was screwing up his alpha biology to be with jimin. his dad was wrong about jimin having motivations for courting him. his relatives were wrong when they said alphas were supposed to only mate with omegas.

they were all wrong, the entire hybrid mechanism misunderstood.

—and then the doorbell rings.

jungkook groans, annoyed, a little reluctant to pull away but it rings again and really, he has no choice but to get up from the couch to open the door. “who the fuck—”

“merry christmas eve!” taehyung yells excitedly, hoseok and yoongi standing protectively to his side, namjoon and seokjin behind them. right. the christmas party, he thinks, cursing himself for having forgotten.

“I thought we were supposed to meet at hoseok’s chalet?” jungkook asks, faking a smile, trying his very best not to show his displeasure. jimin joins him at the doorstep, significantly more happy about the drop-in than jungkook is and the younger alpha scowls. taehyung shrugs. “we figured you both would cancel on us for a good fucking session or something, so.”

jimin flushes bright pink, giggle so high-pitched it gives them both away.

“you totally were!” taehyung says, with an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at them, but a playful grin spreads across his face. yoongi waves his hand in dismissal, complaining, pushing the door open to wiggle inside the apartment, the other boys following suit.

“gotta wait until we finish, like, twelve rounds of gaming, cake-cutting and gift exchange bro,” hoseok singsongs as he walks past into the house, shooting them both suggestive winks, waggling his eyebrows. the action has jimin yelping in embarrassment and jungkook finds himself avoiding hoseok’s eyes for the next hour or so.

turns out, twelve rounds of gaming takes up two hours of their time, cake-cutting an additional hour (curse namjoon for bringing alcohol) and the gift exchange dragging on forever, with them all being tipsy.

“here you go namjoonie,” hoseok chirps, obviously drunk, but then gasps comically and with a hiccup, takes the present away to switch it for another.

“sorry, that one’s for my yoongbean.”

yoongi laughs softly to his side, gums coming into sight and jimin wonders (with quite a fair bit of disgust) how someone like him turns into such a soft person with just the smallest bit of alcohol. “where’s mine,” taehyung whines, making grabby hands and if it weren’t for jungkook distracting him, subconsciously mouthing against his piercings, jimin is convinced he would’ve choked.

then finally, after thirty long, painful minutes of hoseok slurring out their names and messing up all their presents, it’s his turn to give them out.

he casually puts the presents down in their laps, biting back a smile as the boys fumble to open the pretty wrapping, before shifting in jungkook’s lap to face him and place a small box into his hands. the younger stares back for a while, adorably confused, alcohol dulling the honey brown rims of his eyes into a pale grey, and jimin has to fight the urge to pinch his cheeks. “open it, babe,” he coaxes, gently, and watches as jungkook flips open the velvet cover, buzzing with nervousness.

jungkook seemingly goes mute at the sight, breath hitching, face unreadable and for the next few moments, jimin panics. “are these—”

he nods, searching for eye contact with the younger as he interlaces their hands and brings jungkook’s up to eye level, mumbling. “they don’t have to be, though, if you don’t want them to. they could just be promise rings, or couple ones of some sort. I just thought it would be nice to put a ring on your finger, you know? since we were mated permenantly and all—”

jungkook takes him by surprise with a kiss. bravely, with all the passion in the world, and although jimin can taste the bitter undertones of beer in his mouth, he doesn’t ever want to let go.

neither of them really register the groans and gags in the background, world surrounding them fading into a clouded mess and this is perfect.

“can’t you guys go twenty seconds without sucking face?” namjoon blanches, making disgruntled noises in the back of his throat. jimin pulls away with a glare, softening as he turns back to his very cute, very pretty boyfriend.

at his stare, jungkook snaps up, as if remembering something, before clearing his throat embarrasedly. he shifts jimin off his lap, standing up to grab six presents from the room, much to their disappointment.

“did you forget yoongi or something?” taehyung teases from where he leans on hoseok’s shoulder, eyes closed.

jungkook pointedly ignores his remark, tossing the presents out, avoiding jimin’s eyes entirely as he bypasses the older. jimin opens his mouth to make an offended whine but taehyung cuts him off with a loud scream, high-pitched and shrilly.

“oh my fucking god, jeon jungkook, you are hands-down the best friend I’ve ever had—god fucking bless you, an xbox—what the fuck,” he continues, rambling with excitement, gripping jungkook’s shirt and jumping up and down like a three-year old.

and jealousy is not good feeling, jimin thinks, his heart sinking.

just then, jungkook climbs into his lap again, this time with a more brazen grin, the promise of something, lips wet and pink, eyes sparkling cheekily, and the older’s breath hitches.

he knows this look all too well, the edges of a growl already bubbling in his throat, eyes going from a warm prussian blue to a deep steely cyan. “chase the boys out after ten minutes and come to the room,” jungkook whispers, breath tickling the shell of his ear and jimin nods, a shudder running through him.

too quickly, the warm heat of his mate vanishes, disappearing into their shared bedroom and jimin has to clench his fists to stop himself from going after the younger, self-restraint teetering on the edge.

the next ten minutes feel like hell, every second worsening the ache in his pants, strengthening the white-hot lust in the pit of his stomach, jungkook’s faint arousal seeping through the walls. really, by now, it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together, the boys packing up hurriedly, shoved out of the door by an amazingly sober seokjin.

the scent of fresh sandalwood clogs his senses, then diffuses, then reappears, as if taunting him, and then finally, the main door shuts.

jimin gets to their bedroom in record speed, panting more so from arousal than the physical exertion, slamming his fists onto the wooden frame to announce his arrival, mind racing with thoughts about jungkook on his knees on the bed, begging, putting away his pride to splutter filthy words just to get jimin to fuck him and—

jungkook throws open the door with flushed cheeks and for the next ten seconds, jimin swears he forgets how to breathe.

the younger has his favorite oversized white blouse on, buttoned up less than halfway, revealing more than enough of his golden, unmarked skin to get jimin growling possessively. the shirt covers just up to his mid-thighs, and when jungkook steps closer, jimin thinks he sees a hint of silk and lace underneath the fluttering fabric.

thin, black garters shroud the younger’s thick thighs beautifully, and the matching translucent thigh highs around his pretty legs worsen it all.

and then there’s the red leather choker snug around his neck, spelling out their initials.

“merry christmas,” jungkook murmurs, shuffling uneasily on both feet, shyness kicking in with jimin’s predatory gaze. “I’m your present. do you…like it?”

it’s the times like these that remind them both of how young jungkook is; how innocent.

it makes jimin want to wreck him.

“yeah. yeah, fuck. you look so—” pretty, sinful, ethereal, perfect, beautiful, fuckable. no words can describe it. jungkook pinks, chewing on his lower lip distractingly. “show me how much you like it.”

the second he breathes those words, jimin has him backed against the bedframe, knees buckling, falling onto the white sheets, blouse riding up to reveal the black silk panties he has on, with lace lining its hem and a bow at the top.

jimin grunts, pupils flashing dangerously, and jungkook shuts his eyes, heat prickling at his skin, feeling the space between his legs slick up like never before.

he hadn’t even known alphas could drip out of their ass, thought that it was only an omega thing, until—well, until he did during jimin’s rut a few years back. the fresh wave of sandalwood floods the room and jimin’s fingers wrap around his wrists, pinning them above his head, digging into the skin, the older kneeling with both knees by his sides.

“so fucking pretty,” he says, voice dipping into a lower timbre and jungkook shivers, the praise sliding down his spine like lava. “please,” he breathes, already so needy, and jimin tsks, cupping his face to bring their lips together in a searing kiss.

jungkook has to stop the embarrassing urge to whine when jimin pulls away, petulant, but then the older’s kissing down, down, down past his jaw to his collarbones, and every protest dies. jimin leaves a trail of hickeys in his wake, occasionally laving over the bruise with his tongue and pecking it lightly before moving on. jimin tugs at the hem of his blouse, pushing the fabric up and allowing it to bunch around jungkook’s armpits.

the bareness makes jungkook shy, heart fluttering, and he covers his face with both of his hands. jimin tuts, gently easing them away from his face, murmuring praises like you’re beautiful and I wanna see your pretty face babe that really aren’t far from the truth.

his cock peeks out from just above the lace waistband and pink bow, leaking precum all over his stomach and jimin snarls, so fucking tempted to just save the teasing for later and give jungkook the best fuck of his life, but jimin has restraint. at least, he tells himself he does.

for now.

jimin mouth latches onto the younger’s right nipple, relishing in the loud cry that spills from jungkook’s lips, feeling lithe fingers thread into his hair and tug. he abuses the nub thoroughly, biting and sucking on the areola, circling the sensitive skin with his tongue and blowing on it, rolling the other one between his fingers and pinching it lightly, watching jungkook shiver and shake, eyes rolled into the back of his head, back arched off the sheets, whimpering and moaning helplessly.

jungkook whines long and loud when jimin reaches to graze a hand over his dick, the much-needed friction driving him off the edge, and he comes into jimin’s hand, spilling ropes of white all over the older’s thick knuckles.

“so sensitive,” jimin groans, continuing his ministrations and the pleasure richochets throughout the younger’s entire body. his hand doesn’t still on jungkook’s dick either, thumbing at the fresh pearl of precum already beaded on the head of his cock, digging into his slit.

it wasn’t a secret that he had always been sensitive around his nipples, and jimin was possibly the best worker of Handjobs™ in history (if the fact that jungkook came into his hand in under 3 seconds doesn’t make it clear enough) but to be played with on both ends like this has jungkook sprawled out on the bed, thighs trembling, mewling softly, looking every bit as wrecked as he feels.

“jimin,” he keens, voice breaking and the older hums, giggling. “hyung, please—I wanna feel you so bad—just give me your fingers or something, fuck. please.”

“oh I will,” jimin grunts, panting, but he only switches to the other nub to repeat the same treatment, sending shocks and shocks of pleasure through the younger’s body, other hand rubbing up and down his dick, rubbing at jungkook’s balls lightly. jungkook feels horribly close to coming again and he rakes nails down jimin’s back in warning.

then, when jimin finally pulls away, jungkook goes limp in his arms, tears in the back of his eyes. “you okay babe?” the dominant alpha asks, coming up to push up the hair matted to jungkook’s forehead messily, letting the younger relax and catch his breath, pressing his lips to the younger’s forehead, eyes, cheeks and nose before letting their lips brush, ever so caring and sweet. “wanna stop?”

jungkook shakes his head like his life depends on it, fingers gripping the older’s biceps tightly. jimin laughs, nodding and then sinks down, down, down to fan kisses all over his stomach, marking him wherever and whenever. he traces the smaller mate mark just above the younger’s right hipbone, still sensitive and bites down beside it, sucking a pretty bruise into jungkook’s skin.

he moves off the bed to press jungkook’s legs apart, watching them fall open invitingly with little to no opposition, the sight setting sparks off in stomach. impatiently, he rips the thigh highs off the younger’s legs, leaving the garters on, and yeah, he knows what he’ll be thinking about on lonely nights away from jungkook.

shifting them further up on the bed, jimin litters kisses all over the skin of jungkook’s right calf, sinking his teeth into the skin at the back of his knee, marking his entire thigh up and then repeating it on the other leg, jungkook trembling in his hands, wet arousal slicking down his thighs and cock.

in his defence, he can’t really help it. to say jungkook’s thighs are pretty is a understatement. they’re not as nicely shaped as an omega’s, but they’re thick and kneadnable and literally fucking flawless, so much so that jimin would describe them to be more like a masterpiece.

“jimin—hyung,” jungkook says, desperate, hiccuped moans and whimpers escaping his lips. jimin pulls away, hushing him, before mouthing at the silk of his panties, soaking the fabric. “you look so fucking good in these,” he hums, a little disappointed that they’re going to come off soon, hooking a finger beneath the waistband to let it snap back against the skin. jungkook blushes more, if possible, and avoids his eyes. “it could work…I mean.”

“mm,” jimin says, pushing the fabric aside with two fingers, the exposure making jungkook’s stomach clench, slipping another pair of digits inside.

immediately, his fingers bump into the butt of a vibrator and jimin hisses, flipping him onto his front in a second, arousal radiating off him and clogging the entire room. “hands and knees. now.”

jungkook quickly complies, fisting the sheets as jimin pulls the thong down and lets it rest mid-thigh, whimpering embarrasedly.

“such a slut, bet you were thinking about how good my cock would feel inside of you when you fucked yourself on the vibrator, spreading you open and stretching you out—” jimin says, voice raspy, pushing two fingers in and jungkook yelps. the stretch burns so good. “bet you thought about me fucking you with these panties on too, hm, jungkookie?”

“yeah, yeah—ah, c'mon hyung, I—put it on the highest setting for you, but it wasn’t enough and I’ve been waiting for so long so just fucking fuck me already, please—” jimin growls, shutting him up with a kiss, dragging the pads of his fingers over his prostate, pressing up against the sensitive nerves hard and fast, until the younger’s thighs shake. jimin’s tongue joins in later, licking right over jungkook’s walls, lapping up the wet slick greedily, more lubricant flooding the rim each time, and jungkook thinks he screams, resisting the urge to shut his legs, sensation almost crippling, using his grip as leverage to chase for more, fucking himself back onto jimin’s face.

the younger barely notices when he slips in the third finger, so fucking close to the edge, making a mess of the bedsheets. “look at you dripping all over your pink cock, jungkookie, look how pretty you are,” jimin coos, an edge to his tone that has jungkook’s body going rigid, and just like that, he cums again, untouched, clenching around the older’s fingers, staining the panties, second mind-numbing orgasm of the night making its way through his body.

“c-can’t, jimin—now, please,” jungkook hiccups, tears running down his face, body feeling like it’s on fire from the overstimulation and jimin withdraws immediately. “what’s the safeword.”

he shakes his head frantically, reaching down to pull the vibrating plug out of his body with a mewl, switching it off and tossing it to the side. “jungkook,” jimin sighs, taking a visible amount of effort to shift away, teeth gritted, but the younger whimpers, tugging him back down to connect their lips, teeth clacking against each other, tongues messily fighting for dominance. “don’t wanna stop—wanna feel you, please, I just—fuck me, c'mon, I can take it, hyung please, come on.”

jimin grunts, eyes flashing so bright blue they’re almost silver, half-tearing the clothes off his body, hauling jungkook forward by the ankles before lining up with the younger’s entrance and pressing in. jungkook gasps, breath caught in his throat, nails digging crescents into the older’s biceps, shutting his eyes in bliss. his cock drags along the younger’s soft, wet walls as he decks out, ripping a moan from jungkook’s throat and jimin takes that as a signal to speed up, jackhammering into the younger, forcing out a cry from him.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he grunts, words punctuated with every thrust and jungkook knows he’s blabbering at this point, repeating jimin’s name like a mantra, pleasure coiling in his stomach for the third time. when jimin slings his legs over both shoulders on the next thrust, though, jungkook keens, tears trailing either sides of his face, the older fucking right up against his prostate, dragging across the sensitive bundle just right, again and again, knot catching on his rim and it doesn’t take long for the tight coil in his stomach to unravel. “mine,” jimin growls, brandishing him, driving him over the edge, white streaks shooting all over jungkook’s chest, and they come together, jungkook cumming so hard a few drops land on his cheek, jerking and shaking as jimin rides out his high, filling him up to the brim, knot settling snug against his prostate.

the come down is significantly harder, jimin’s knot expanding to press deeper and deeper against his prostate, sending shock after shock of overstimulation racking through his body. the older carefully maneuvers them onto their side, tangling their feet together to close any gap between them, resting jungkook’s head on his chest, the both of them still flush against each other. “still with me?”

it should be gross, with how cum is smeared between their bodies, drying, but instead it feels comfortable, feels safe.

“merry christmas,” jungkook mumbles, sleep plaguing his eyelids and jimin giggles, brushing his lips over the younger’s eyes and neck.

later, jimin pulls out slowly, careful not to wake jungkook, before wetting a washcloth and wiping jungkook down, going to take a shower after.

right before he goes to sleep, he tucks them both in properly, tracing the younger’s eyelids with his fingers gently, smiling. really, the entire alpha-omega relationship system can go fuck itself, because he’s never going to give any of this up for it.

[csiemcvty-blog]

Web Fundamentals

Monday 23rd January - Friday 3rd February

On the day that we were given the brief for this particular project I had a slight awareness that this project was to essentially explore “beneath the bonnet” of a web page - much like you would a car - experiencing each and every part of what builds something and in turn allowing it to do what it can. However, I was not aware of how many times I would find myself reading through screeds of code to find an error and that all I needed to do was to highlight, copy and paste the exact code I had written and it would then work.

We were introduced to CodePen and asked to create a small, interactive online experience looking at the fundamentals of each language that makes up/allows a page on the browser to operate. HTML, CSS and Javascript were the three languages that we would work with over the course of the project and in particular JQuery within Javascript. 

Andrew (Hoppy) had shown us some examples of CodePen (pens) that we could work from or alter to allow us to play around with and experiment with the codes used in order to understand the languages and how they inter-operate with one another. Some using APIs and some using just basic Javascript animations:

This particular one had basic animations to spread the text out across the top of the pen, with boxes that would spin when you clicked on them. There was also a cat API fed into these boxes as a background image and you have to click to reveal the cat image/gif. We were shown how to apply shadows and borders to boxes. In the following screenshots, a weather API was used to pull information from whichever UK City was typed into the search bar and it would display a small icon suitable to the weather in that City and that moment, wind speed and all. 

I also researched some pens from other CodePen account holders to see if I found anything of interest, exploring the site and all it has to offer. Doing this scared me slightly as there was a lot of code and given that we had two weeks to complete this project, I knew it was too ambitious to set a goal to create something super complex like the pens I looked at for inspiration. I started off finding interest in pens that involved Zodiac and star-signs which then lead to fortune-type pens:

Post Web Fundamentals tutorials I found it hard to work all three languages together. In the first week of the project, I genuinely really struggled to come to terms with the languages and how they work together in order to “make something happen” within my pen. I decided to just focus on primarily using HTML and CSS in the beginning to form some sort of visual. I started with trying to understand the code and how to create a box and have it appear in the centre of the pen. I played around with background colours and changing boxes into circles using a border radius - I found this method the easiest to actually understanding each piece of the code and what it would show on the screen.

My main focus for this project was to understand the code exactly and not just find myself copying and pasting codes that I have found etc. as I feel that I learn better when I start from scratch with aid from looking at other code and playing around to see what will happen. I had the idea of creating something to do with generating an image once I had looked at some APIs but personally, I felt it was far too difficult to me as I had no previous knowledge of HTML, CSS or Javascript coding, so that idea was put to one side until I had a clearer understanding of what it was that I would like to achieve.

By Friday of the first week I had a pen that I was actually proud of which consisted of 6 squares, displayed in the centre of the page and block-aligned. As the mouse enters each shape, it begins to animate, it gets smaller then larger and the opacity shifts between 0.7 and 0.3 mostly. A border appears round the shape when hovered over also. I thought this pen was aesthetically pleasing and knew from them I wanted to just focus on animations and eventually producing an interactive experience that I would enjoy experiencing and which I thought was simplistic but effective. 

http://csiemcvty.tumblr.com/post/156767610135/codepen-experiment-with-6-boxes-that-animate-when

I took inspiration from my Augmented Sculpture project (an impersonal journey exploring anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and misshapen by things out of ones control) slightly, in that, I had come across images in my research - during that project stuck with a triangular/pyramidal shape - these images that I found were of triangular patterns and misshapen triangles in mostly purple colours and tones. Something that I found interesting during my research was that purple has many varied connotations, which surprised me slightly. It was almost as if the words associated with purple were just split down the centre, completely opposite ends of the spectrum. The image I found particularly interesting was this one: 

Words that stood out to me, especially, were: anxiety, passiveness, sadness, solitude, conflict, sorrow, sadness, secrecy and mystery - all of which connote negativity and struggle where as on the opposing end, words like: luxury, wealth, creativity, meditation, sobriety, fantasy, beauty, wisdom and dignity signify that the colour purple has some serious emotive capabilities and I thought I would experiment with this slightly. 

I began looking back at my research on grids and feeling trapped and came up with the idea of having a gridded structure laid atop an interesting image:

http://csiemcvty.tumblr.com/post/156767804496/codepen-experiment-experimenting-with-a-grid-like

I then found myself playing around with further animations and the heights and widths of each box. I was interested in overlaying them on top of images but in particular, those images of triangular patters. I experimented with both black and white boxes to see whether or not one was more effective than the other. I felt for the purpose of my project that I should have a few tests before making a decision. 

White: http://csiemcvty.tumblr.com/post/156771516011/codepen-experiment-white-bars-over-triangular

Black: http://csiemcvty.tumblr.com/post/156771679260/codepen-experiment-black-bars-over-triangular

From here, I tried many different triangular background images, but felt that the most effective overall and the one that I was most attracted to on a whole was the one used in my grid pen.

I then took this background image and decided I wanted to mimic the key themes and core aims of my Augmented Sculpture project, to force the viewer into feeling anxious by looking at my piece front-on and then giving them a sense of relief when they realise they can interact with the visuals (Javascript animations). I decided to play around with this a little further and decided on “GRID” and “BARS” to describe each of the visuals. My main idea was to incorporate feelings from two ends of a spectrum, much like the colour purple. Stark anxiety and then relief. 

I decided I wanted to have buttons to navigate between the two visual effects on the pen and overall, I stuck to my gut and produced something that I would enjoy using and I feel personally, is simple yet attractive and effective. 

I edited the buttons to ensure that they fitted with the theme of the pen entirely and made them look attractive and stand out when hovered above. I decided to leave it with no text or prompts as I felt that it was enough to just have it very dark and allow it to be a true user experience, where you can get a feel for it. I find my final piece to be extremely soothing actually.

I also managed to change the cursor so that as you hover over the buttons, it changes to a pointer, which is typical of a developed web page.

Link to final CodePen: http://codepen.io/cassiewbu/pen/egMoBv

Overall, this project was where I feel I have struggled most. I found it very difficult to grasp certain aspects of the code as I had no previous experience in code before joining the course but I proud of my progress. On Friday of the first week I knew I was getting ill and unfortunately, during the second week I struggled with illness along with the project but I wanted to do my absolute best and try and understand the coding languages of CodePen. I feel that I engaged with the project well and I am happy with my final outcome as a piece on its own - I achieved what I had set out to and that was to produce something I enjoyed looking at and interacting with, I wanted to create something that was attractive to me and that also carried a concept that I was interested in. 

CodePen as a software was quite glitchy but as long as you saved what you were working on and hit refresh a couple times, your code would start to work just fine. I am slightly disappointed (but not disheartened) that I could not input an API into my project - but with the stress of how many lines of code it takes to have just a box appear on screen, on top of having a killer headache, I just couldn’t come to terms with it at all. If I am to decide to work with CodePen again in the future I will most definitely take more time and care over learning API and have one working alongside my own written code but overall, I am glad that I have experienced something new. I have produced an aesthetic final piece, in which I understand everything that went into it in order for it to work. I also feel like I have enough knowledge, or at least basic knowledge of how HTML, CSS and Javascript codes inter-operate within a browser in order to have things work and 100% appreciate it far more now. I am glad that I tackled this project and although it’s perhaps not my strong point, I’m actually impressed that I have grasped another skill in multi-language coding. 

Screen recording of final CodePen:

http://csiemcvty.tumblr.com/post/156772649671/final-submission-in-codepen-grid-and-bars