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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years ago

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The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf.

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky.

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

***

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.”

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

#the lost boys #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

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Laundry Day (Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader)

Laundry Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: Domestic AU

Characters: Bucky Barnes,

Setting: two months from the ending of “Hey Bartender”, set in the Marvel universe but canon diverged the snap never happened.

Rating: M (Mature), +18 only please

Warnings: cursing, mature themes, angst, longing/yearning, idiots pining for one another,

Word count: 3,002

Summary: Sunday’s the dreaded laundry day when there’s not a stitch of clothing to wear except the man your currently crushing on, soft Henley shirt.

Notes: Bingo Square fill and written for the lovey @autumnleaves1991-blog and Write Wednesday prompt.

Tag list: @buckybingo

You’ve heard it many time, how cool you own a bar. Can drink whenever you want. Let me drink for free. Last thought getting a snort from your lips while looking through the laundry pile. The main reason owning you a business sucked you never get a day off to do normal shit like the fucking laundry that seems to pile up before you know what’s happened. Wondering if like rabbits it multiples while mating.

Huffing out a resigned sigh, tossing the last article of dirty clothing back into the basket thankful you wouldn’t need to schlep the bags to a local laundromat. Instead could get a little light cleaning done while the built in laundry room, a big thank you too granddad for putting the room in, did at least part of the work.

“Fucking hate laundry day,” low growl leaving your lips and tugging on the only clean clothes left.

Hefting the plastic basket on to your generous hip, grabbing the towel off the bedroom doorknob to add and heading towards the small room just off the bathroom to the left. Dropping the basket down you go back out to put on some music. Grabbing up your cell phone happy to have brought large capacity storage so your whole collection could fit. Setting all of Lady Gaga’s music on shuffle ‘Monster’ flowing through the small speakers positioned around your living room in specific areas for optimal sound quality. Wide hips swaying to the beat black Henley brushing the tops of your thick thighs incased in shorts, knee high socks keeping the rest of your legs warm and helping you slide across the oak wood floors. Not caring what you look like at the moment, expecting no one to show up on an early Sunday morning.

Bright smile slides over your lips the song changing to ‘Born this way’ belting out the words thankful and not for the first time you don’t have neighbors. Owning the whole building does come with certain perks. Meaning it didn’t matter how loud you got no one would call the cops on you for excessive noise or lousy singing. With those thoughts in mind you head back to start sorting clothes getting a load going, grabbing the swiffers dust clothes, mop and bucket on your way out.

Leaving the last two by the kitchen island, spinning back body moving to the beat of the music. Picking up bits of trash making you frown for a moment, knowing you weren’t that messy but shrugging off the thought tossing the trash. Starting to dance around, straightening lamps, running the dust cloth over the expanse of hard wood furniture and nick knacks from your childhood. Getting into the rhythm, beat caressing your body, tingling your senses making you move in ways you wouldn’t show another living soul only these four walls.

Finishing up the living room, you stand back to catch a breath admiring your handing work when ‘Shallow’ starts to play. Bradly Cooper’s smooth tenor caressing your ears a soft sigh leaving your lips. Your body starts to move to the melody, slow and sensuous, arms wrapping around your tummy as you sway. Twirling as Lady Gaga’s voice takes over, stepping around the couch that faces towards the tv positioned in the middle of a brick wall. Bursting out to sing the chorus, you keep swaying picking the tempo up. Draping your body backwards over the couch careful not to knock a lamp off the side table. Grabbing up a remote to use as a makeshift microphone, singing your heart out to no one but the empty room or so you think.

Raising back up slowly to spin away still belting out the lyrics breathlessly, wide smile on your face happiness thumping through your veins. Feeling freer than you have in a long time all thanks to a song that comes to an end with loud clapping ringing through your apartment. Making you scream out and throw the remote towards the source of the nose. Squeak existing your breathless lips that hang open staring at Bucky Barnes’s imposing figure filling the doorway of your apartment.

Catching the black plastic wrapped remote in his flesh hand before it landed against his chest, smirk sliding over those oh so kissable lips. Not that you haven’t dreamt of at least a couple nights a week. “Fucking hell Barnes how long have you been standing there?” Quickly moving towards your phone to cut the music.

Turning to take in his rumpled appearance. Chestnut hair tucked back into a messy ponytail few wisps hanging out to frame his face. Sculpted by the finest artists all angles and edges begging for your lips to caress. That’s graced with shadows of a sleepless night of tossing and turning in a to soft bed and a floor too cold for comfort. Sold wall of muscle that is his shoulders and chest covered in a wrinkled green Henley top button open to bare just a hint of collarbone. You try not to lick dry lips at the peek of skin wanting to bury your nose in the hollow of his throat and nibble to see what sounds you could drag from those sinful lips. Snapping back to the present when he begins to speak before your wondering eyes could take in the bottom half of his fackable body. They lock with his for a moment longer than proper catching the dark circles and weariness he tries to hide behind that boyish smile.

“Long enough,” clearing his throat to push down the arousal building up. In truth he tried knocking first, pounding followed with a couple of shouts of your name to accompany. Hearing the music spilling from behind the close door Bucky pulled the key you gave him last month out to let himself in.

Unprepared for the sight his eyes would land upon after pushing the old hard oak door open. Music hitting him square in the ears, not unpleasant a tune but a touch loud. However, that’s not what caught his eyes, no it’s the way you moved around the apartment to the melody. Body swaying, rolling and bending in ways that had him gritting his teeth to keep from stepping forward and pulling your soft body against his strong chest. Wanting to fill the spot of invisible partner, dipping you in his arms, wrapping them around your thick waist. Teasing the column of your throat with his lips after bending you backwards over his arm.

You’re a fucking temptation to his body and damnation to his heart and soul. One Bucky Barnes would gladly partake of if he didn’t feel so tainted, hands coated in invisible blood, mind splintered with nightmares of memories and lies. He wouldn’t saddle you with him as a burden. He’d push those feelings back bury them, accepting the friendship you offer and a shelter from a world he’s yet to fully grow accustom too.

Hands on your wide hips, scowl contorting your beautiful features, “I didn’t give you that key so you could barge in whenever you like Bucky.”

“I brought breakfast,” pointing towards the little white bags on the small wooden table by the door. Giving you the saddest puppy eyes he could which only makes you huff and roll your own.

Shaking your head, “You think you’re cute don’t ya Barnes?” Trying to infuse a touch of anger into your tone but it comes out more playful teasing than growling menace.

“Of course doll, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” wiggling his brow, scooping up the bags to follow you into the kitchen. Kicking something over he looks down teasing smirk slides over his lips before giving way to a playfully sheepish look, “Guess I finally kicked the bucket huh?”

Trying to hold back the laughter but it comes out on a snort that has a deep gruff laugh issuing from Bucky which in turn makes you giggle harder. Holding your stomach as it aches from the mirth lighting your features. Taking notice of the fact years have disappeared from the weariness he normally carries. Eyes sparkling in early morning sunlight shining in from the kitchen window. His beautiful steals your breath for a moment as you calm down, turning to start the Keurig, reaching for the pods of coffee you keep just for Bucky.

“Incorrigible Barnes, sit ya ass down while I make coffee,” couple of short giggles break free with another shake of your head.

Placing the bags down before dropping into his usual seat, “Two…”

“Spoonfuls of sugar no cream or milk I remember along with the dark roast that’s your favorite,” shooting him a smile. Grabbing your cell, changing the music to shuffle your whole library, turning the volume down so its more background noise than actually listening. “What brings you by this morning? Besides taking ten years off my life of course.”

Snorting at your quip with trying to hide that he’s smitten by the fact you’ve memorized how he likes his coffee. “Hadn’t seen you in a week doll, thought I’d drop in with breakfast and see if you need help with anything down in the bar.”

Taking a few moments to actually looking over your plush frame. Big mistake because he notices how those shorts mold to your wide hips and thick thighs begging for attention. Knee high socks shouldn’t look so damn sexy but on you he’s shifting in his seat to take pressure off the erection building in his jeans. Eyes dancing to take in your upper half damn near choking on his own spit at seeing you wear his Henley. Stretched out with age and use from his days in hiding and a little thicker in build. The way it stretched over your lush breasts cupping the generous globes outlined for his eyes to devour. Flowing against your tummy he wouldn’t object to laying his head on while cuddling into your body. Wanting to place kisses and nibbles on the skin hidden from his widening cerulean eyes. Shocking him back to reality with you placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Palm going to his forehead, “Really doll, what exactly are you feeling for?” Glancing up to search your turned down face. Catching the soft scent of Egyptian musk, mixed with clean linen and something sweet added that he’s sure belongs solely to you.

“Seeing if you have a fever, you checked out on me there for a few moments Barnes,” gently pressing the pads of your fingers into his neck, counting a pulse and sending goosebumps to skitter across his body.

Taking the hand from his body, the urge to pull you into his lap strong with your warmth radiating into his. “I’m fine sweetheart honest just lost in thought of this beautiful dame I know.”

“Lucky woman,” slowly pulling your hand back tramping down on the hurt flashing through your body. Heading back to start your own coffee, “Make yourself at home as usual,” shaking your head watching Bucky toe off his biker boots and prop his mismatched sock feet into the closest chair. Rolling your eyes, “Way to comfortable,” exasperated quip leaving your mouth as you head back and change laundry over.

“What’s with the get up anyway?” Not wanting to shout, Bucky followed to lean against the door jam of the all to small room. Coffee mug hovering near his lips thankful for not taking a sip when you bent over to add cloths to the dry.

Plush ass on display for his eyes to map, flesh hand tightening around ceramic mug while vibranium plates whirl with a clinched fist at his side. Tempting isn’t even a word he’d use to describe the torture your presenting him with. Quickly averting his eyes to the ceiling, but not before catching the peek of silken looking skin his shirt bares while sliding up. Searching now for something to distract himself. Before he did a very stupid thing like pull you into his arms and see if you fit against him like he’s imagined one too many times. Burying his face in your neck and tease the tender skin with three days worth of beard wanting to see if you’re sensitive and ticklish.

Brought back from those sexual thoughts when you speak, words tossed over your shoulder, “It’s all I had to wear, everything else needed washing. Price I pay for owning and running my own bar,” shrugging you bend to pick up the next load swearing you hear a groan from the man behind you. Yet when you turn he just gives you a smile that seems to make his cerulean eyes dance.

“Ah that explains why you’re wearing my shirt though not how you got it,” against better judgement, Bucky reaches out to tug the hem. Baring a briefest hint of cleavage to his desire darken eyes, with all three buttons open. He swallows harshly taking a bigger sip of his hot coffee than meaning to but the slight burning mouth pain distracts him from those thoughts that could get him into trouble. “I’m not complaining doll just curious if you’re stealing my clothes when you come over to my place.”

Snorting, “It’s not your shirt Barnes, your clothes wouldn’t fit my wide ass,” placing a hand on his shoulder to push him out the doorway. “If anything it’s from a pervious boyfriend and just stretched out.” Though you can’t help but glance down at the shirt racking your brain to remember who left it behind. Till you remember not having a boyfriend for the last couple of years and even then you didn’t let them keep stuff at your apartment. Only Bucky, who has his own key and drops by when he needs a break from the Compound and Avenging. Eyes widen in shock at the realization that in fact this shirt belongs to Bucky and must’ve got put in with your laundry one of the last times he stayed the night after a bad mission.

Deep in thought, you miss the low growl leave his throat at the mention of other men or the way he frowns when you insult yourself. “You have a gorgeous ass doll stop putting yourself down,” gently grabbing your upper arm to spin you around and face him. “And yes that is my shirt, there’s a stain,” swallowing hard but still brushes his fingers over the darken slightly yellow patch between your breasts. “Right here, it’s dripped mustard from a Coney dog about three weeks back remember. We went to Coney Island since you never went, sharing the cotton candy and almost getting sick,” soft chuckle leaving his parted lips. “You’re laughter at the corny shows, riding the Ferris wheel, I almost felt normal for once,” vibranium hand dropping back to his side, he heads to the table and plops down into his previous seat. Cursing his actions, head cradled in his hands hiding from his behavior and you. Wanting the earth to swallow him whole for his stupidity in voicing those words instead of keeping them bottled up. For touching you without asking permission, but God does he want a repeat and this time not let go.

Frozen by his words, heart aching for how he still feels, the searing touch of those cool metal fingers, but most of all by the realization he remembered a day you hold dear to your heart. Eyes close for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath and heading for your cooling coffee. “What’d you bring for breakfast?” distracting them both of you from the elephant in the room.

Head popping up so quickly your sure he’s cracked his neck, half smile tugging at his lips, but not reaching his eyes, “Your favorites of course.” Reaching for the bags to pull out a small assortment of breakfast pastries.

“Trying to fatten me up Barnes?” You jest though back peddle at the scowl Bucky sends you. “Okay, okay I won’t do that again,” hands up in surrender but under your breath, “till your gone.”

Caught in mid sip, “You do know I have superior hearing right?”

“Your point Superman?” Bringing your mug with to sit down on Bucky’s left.

“I heard what you muttered,” grabbing the cream cheese kolache and taking a health bite while keeping eye contact with you.

Shrugging, “Then I’ll keep those thoughts to myself from now on,” picking out your favorite pastry to nibble on. “Oh and don’t worry I’ll get your shirt back to you once the rest of my clothes finish. I’m sorry it’s so stretched out.”

“One of these days doll,” muttering the rest to himself. Thoughts running through his mind on how much he’d like to bend you over his lap or better yet spread out for him to taste. Till you understood the beauty held in your countenance, the sway of your wide hips and plush body. Learning just what you do to his body and heat. But he knew those imagines held a deeper sway than you’d let anyone else see. Ones needing more than searing touches and intimate kisses but true actions to show you the truth.

Confident on the outside but tormented by dark thoughts and self doubts. That revelation skitters across Bucky’s mind like hot iron dunked into cool water, shocking his system to how similar though different as well, in ways he didn’t want to examine not yet. Registering the last comment Bucky looks up at you, tracing the features of your face, how your body looks in his shirt with golden sunlight bathing you in a warm halo. Speaking the words before his brain can shut them off, “Keep the shirt doll it looks so much better on you and by the way you didn’t stretch it out I did.” Flashing you his patent smirk before taking another drink of lukewarm coffee. Never so thankful for laundry day, stretched out shirts and the beauty sitting next to him.

#Bucky bingo #Writer Wednesday #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader #Bucky Barnes fiction #Pining/yearning

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alldayangst · 4 years ago

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gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet.

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book.

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly.

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball.

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?”

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.”

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two.

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true.

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it.

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Masterlist

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draw-you-coward · 4 years ago

Note

Dunno if you're still accepting these, regardless no pressure, but! “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with maybe Larry or Canach and Roza but feel free to pick anyone else ya think fits better! :D

hello 👀 thank you for your patience. i went with canach!! hope u like it ehehe

Canach doesn’t know how the commander finds him. All he knows is that one moment he is minding his own business, holed up in some shithole of a human town reading trash literature he found in his room, and the next a leafy excuse for a ghoul is standing crookedly in his doorway, staring at him with vapid black eyes.

He looks even more corpselike than usual, his life belied only by his presence in the Dream and the few stubborn leaves still clinging to his branches. Canach wonders sometimes, when he goes still and silent like this, if he will start rotting on the spot from playing statue for too long.

“May I help you?” he asks, because otherwise they will be here all day.

Roza finally moves, slowly dipping his head. “You were the only person I could thing of going to,” he mutters. He keeps staring.

Canach studies him, taking in the hunch of his shoulders and the strength at which his spidery hand is gripping the doorframe. After a minute he steps back, barely giving Roza room to squeeze past. “Come inside, if you must.”

He does, and Canach watches how he places his weight, confirming the suspicion that he’s having trouble balancing himself. Is he sunlight-deficient? Poisoned, perhaps? He doubts he alone will be able to glean much—he is a mercenary, not a mender.

Roza sits himself on the inn cot and folds his hands in his lap. “I am ill with fever,” he explains with a curl of his lip, saving them both a great load of grievance. “I would not have bothered you. But I am being forced to seek… aid.”

By Trahearne, Canach deduces, unless there is someone else who would waste their time pestering him to take care of his health. He frowns, because although that explains why he is not hiding himself as he normally would, it does not explain why he sought out Canach.

“There are menders in the Grove,” he says.

Roza looks at him in disgust. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Splinter of a sylvari. Canach grins to himself nevertheless, because the thought of Roza obediently laying on a cot to be fussed over all day is an amusing one. This prompts a glare, albeit a hazy one, but then Roza lists to the side and half closes his eyes like he is about to drop on the spot, which is… worth some attention.

Is he really that ill? Canach kneels in front of him without asking, and although Roza bares his teeth at him like some kind of wild animal, he is concerningly compliant when Canach reaches to feel his forehead. He makes a half-hearted attempt to shy away, then goes still.

His bark is unnaturally hot to the touch. Canach takes his hand away with a grimace, and Roza sighs through his nose. That too is warm, and it is worrying. Roza is usually cool at the very least, and downright frigid when they are fighting. Dragon’s Watch—which Canach is definitely not a part of—have gotten used to using him as a makeshift air-cooler of sorts during the warmer months, sometimes straying close enough that Roza snaps at them about personal space being necessary to avoid accidentally take a head off. The fact that he is not only warm now, but hot…

“Are you drinking enough water?” Canach asks, more harshly than he means to.

Roza gazes at him through lidded eyes and shrugs infuriatingly. Canach grandly resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, and instead takes one—limp—arm and pushes back the sleeve. Its bark is dry and somewhat withered, so he is dehydrated, and he mostly likely hasn’t eaten anything either. Canach wouldn’t be surprised if he simply licked some snow that morning and declared himself nourished enough for the whole day.

“Stay here,” he says, ignoring the thin fingers now reaching for his arm and getting up. He heads to the door and Roza makes a clicking noise, sharp and airy. Canach glances back.

“You are leaving?” Roza rasps. His eyes are large and dark.

“To get you something to eat from downstairs,” Canach replies, noting the hint of panic in his voice and deciding to drop airs at least until he is well enough to decipher them. “You’re absolute shit at picking a babysitter, Roza.”

“So… after I eat you will want to be rid of me?”

He sounds like if Canach confirms that in any way, he is prepared to stretch the one meal out over the course of the entire day, or perhaps the entire week. Canach looks at him, then down at the hand that had reached out for him, now curled loosely at his side.

“You have a fever,” he says briskly. “You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. Calm down.”

Roza’s hunched form untenses slightly. Canach adds, “Although to be clear: I am only helping you because I know I am your only and last resort, and if you tell anyone I will kill you. Understood?”

Roza ignores him, stretching out on the lumpy cot and facing away. His eyes close.

Good enough. Canach waits until his chest expands in a shallow breath to ensure he isn’t dead, then steps through the door and closes it behind him. Food, and afterwards… what? A book or something to pass the time? He vaguely remembers something about animating dead squirrels. He will figure something out, and no matter what he comes up with Roza will have to deal with it, he decides. And if he complains, Canach will simply knock him unconscious. There—he is getting the hang of this already.

~*~

#canach #roza #gw2 #drabble #writing #hhiiii #abloris-the-plantriarchy #ask

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tomatograter · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have a list anywhere of your favorite hs fics?

I suppose it’s appropriate I make one now! will prolly come back to add on at some point, but as it stands

HERE’S THE FIC RECS: (it is quite long, click the readmore)

Last updated Sept 10 2021 !

Perpetuity => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835047

Written pre-epilogues, largely about mending damaged bridges after the game. I always mention this fic as what settled me back into hs as a fandom and dirk/jake

A Palate Cleanser => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642637

The jake eulogy we missed on candy. it’s real good. (now with a podfic version on the second chapter!!!!)

It’s only a canvas sky

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718544

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

(A good mix of fluff/angst/yearning, captures early & friendship dirkjake REALLY well, a good analogue au to their canon upbringing!!)

Sburgatoria => https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726822/chapters/49242167

What if we were four lesbians stuck in an uncanny valley real housewives purgatory-esque-suburbia and we bickered then kissed 😳

Prologos

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961157

“Sadstuck for the discerning jakeliker”

Magnesium Ion, Porphyrin Ring => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787465/chapters/51988876

Jade + Jake exploration throughout their growing up years, the relationship they had to their guardians and to one another between split realities and time.

I Know What You Think Of Me => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516589

You never knew you wanted vriska and jake to be friends but now…. you do! and they’re going to gut a mountain of salmon to get there. Hilariously masterful vrisrezi to boot.

What Happens In-Between =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240424/chapters/58409713

i KNOW you aren’t done with jaded fisheries observer vriska just yet and for that i’m thankful to say, we have a sequel, and dirk is in it to her great annoyance

Drive it home with one headlight => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281412/chapters/45856705

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend ==>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747519/chapters/62875855

EXTENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED!!!! Post-canon fanadventure focusing on jake, brain ghost dirk, and a very concerned third party inhabiting jake’s brain that isn’t all too happy with the current turn of dubiously canon events. Still updating, very fun and smart.

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886581/chapters/42220607

DIRK AND VRISKA. PIRACY. SONG. HOES (JAKE)

Sea shanties for Thots (Four kings sequel) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210135/chapters/53028541

jake needs to adjust to his new life and occupation overseas, ft; more songs, more piracy, and schrodinger’s hoe. Extensively jake-introspective, told through his POV.

Song of the Pyre =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875459/chapters/24161439

EPIC SCALE vrisrezi space opera ft. hardass legislacerator Terezi & outlaw Vriska being forced to work together after they sort-of-accidentally kill terezi’s shitty clown ex. Feelings are caught, trials are held, there’s a revolution coming. Delightfully written. Reads as pretty solid and complete despite the 19/21 chapters done - ACT 1 counts as a book of its own, ACT 2 is solid.

Pilot Light, Pale rapture (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403233

“They want you on Olympus, they want you on a faraway star watching the planet turn benignly. They want the original Gods in the four corners of the earth, protectors in an invisible palace. “And the Witch sat vigil in her southern eastmost realm, looking down upon her descendants,” they’d say, “and saw that it was good.

You do not have an Olympus. You have a house that smells like burnt toast, because Davepeta did just that only an hour ago.”

Prospit kids + Really Good and Fun earth C shenanigans ensue. Incredible insightful exploration on Jade, her childhood, and mostly what happens after the curtains close and she finally has time to be awake.

After Meat, Aftermath. (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420354

In one universe, college!au Rose lalonde takes barre classes. In another, arguably more relevant one, Rosebot peers into her life. this will lead to inevitable chaos. incredible rose + kanaya + vriska + jake + dirk focus and one of my fav AU’s.

*below are my favorite dirk-focused works:*

Detective Pony

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427119/chapters/5371283

At first I didn’t include this one, having taken for granted that everyone had read it already, but I think as of ‘21 the fandom is a bit different and not many have. Facts being: this is the definitive solo Dirk Strider story; seamless with the detective pony book dirk edits in homestuck-proper, deeply indulgent, funny, and cathartic, one might even say. Also an audiobook and a webseries, if that’s more up to your speed!

A Eulogy for Laplace’s Demon (After Meat, Aftermath spinoff) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047735/chapters/47475769

A good jump-in point for AM,A but hugely more focused on dirk arguing with his own demons. Doesn’t pull any punches.

Dualshock Desertbloom =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428552/chapters/43651733

Dirk wakes up in a scalding liminal space and splinters his beta self out of his body like an amoeba parting in two. It’s a Predicament. They have to learn how to cohabitate if they want to try to figure out what the fuck is going on, and Dirk can’t help but prod and poke around to learn more about his twisted-funhouse-mirror-self along the way. Really meaty character-study, some of my favorite dirkvoice (and brovoice) passages are definitely all over here.

House of Dirk => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156126/cha pters/45530146

dirk and caliborn, in a sitcom, holding hands. nothing bad could ever possibly happen

Timaeus, Testified. => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479223/chapters/46368625

“go crazy go stupid!!!!!!” - dirk strider, metamonster

*Fun / short / thoughtful stories:*

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130925

Dirk freaks out and goes on r/relationships to try and figure out how to mend the semi-relationship he has with his weird roommate. (hint: his name starts with J)

Light Without Effulgence

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986289

Rose is having a writer’s block. Jake is bored in the middle of his family’s own vacation. They sit down to mercilessly pick at each other’s brains, and the results may surprise you (not clickbait)

Interrogating the text from the wrong perspective => https://archiveofourown.org/works/615521

(Calliope and Rose have fandom wars. Its really funny)

Witching Hour => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620732

Eschewal => https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284384

jake goes ham

Dreamscapers => https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455073/chapters/53653849

Stygian blue =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946412/chapters/57588850

Terezi and brain ghost Vriska have a conversation. (illustrated!!!)

Bitter =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30871334

Jaw-dropping JadeRose comic oneshot; meta, jealousy, crushes, and girls being a little off.

*FANADVENTURE CORNER:*

CHOICELESS HOPE

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100313/chapters/68850048#workskin

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE.

You have been searching the depths of the FURTHEST RING for CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND, PRETEENHOOD NEMESIS, TEEN SWEETDIAMOND, and POSSIBLE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE, VRISKA SERKET, for what may or may not have been THREE MONTHS.

Near the start of her search for Vriska, Terezi is offered a choice.

KITTYQUEST

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=32792&p=2

Centuries in the future, the daughter of jade harley and davepeta pierces together what it is like to grow up knowing your parents and much of your extended family are immortal beings. Incredible art, lots of really really fun cameos and incredible worldbuilding (Not epilogue compliant, barely credits compliant, remains one of my favorite extended pocket universes to this day.)

FAILURE TO LAUNCH

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=34750&p=1

It’s june egbert’s first night out! From the official TV programme summary; “Starring the one and only JUNE EGBERT! Who knows what shenanigans will ensue… Wild hootenannies? Late night pizza picnics? ROMANCE??? Tune in and find out on FAILURE TO LAUNCH!” this can only ever end well, right?

THERAPYSTUCK

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=36345&p=3

That’s right, buckos. The lot of you are going to therapy. Turns out after a member of the tight-knit god community (Sollux) decides to seek a little help, more shenanigans were sure to follow.

#fic rec #updated sporadically

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harrylee94 · 3 years ago

Text

The Tournament - Chapter 6

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: The Prince had been there since the first hints of light had touched the sky, Saruk at his side and a large, two handed axe held in his hand. Cobb had been up on the roof for almost an hour by the time he’d arrived, unable to sleep and a blanket around him. He had wanted to jump down, to run to his side to look him over, to make sure he was unharmed, but he knew it wasn’t his place and had to make do with watching from a distance.

Notes: TW: There is an execution in this chapter. I don't go into any real details, but someone it decapitated, and there is blood.

If you feel uncomfortable with this, please see the end notes for a short summary of the chapter.

Chapter 5

——————————————————————

“I, Din Djarin, Prince of the kingdom of Mandalore, sentence you to die" - Cobb

The morning air was cool from where Cobb sat on the stable roof, Peli and Jo sat on either side of him as the sun began peeking out over the horizon. It would be some time yet before it would breach the castle walls, and the night’s chill would take even longer to dissipate, but no one was going to complain, Cobb least of all.

Someone had tried to kill the Prince. An honoured guest, a high born little lordling, had taken the trust Din had given her and crushed it under her boot. It had taken everything Cobb had not to storm into the castle’s prison to demand her head on the spot. Knowing she’d lose it the coming morning had soothed some of his rage, but he had seethed for the rest of the day, something his friends had noted.

Jo had pushed him to direct his anger into something more productive, like cleaning up the stable and practicing in the armour she’d been fixing up for him -- something he’d bought over the years, a mis-matched, slightly rusting set with broken straps though it was -- which Peli had then walked in on and demanded to know what was going on. The explanation had left her grinning viciously, and Cobb’s team grew from two to three.

His armour was safely hidden away in the back of the stables for now, as fixed up as it could have been in the week Jo had to alter it between her apprenticeship and the Armourer having to use the forge herself, but now it was dawn, and Din was stood in the centre of the ward next to a headsman’s block.

The Prince had been there since the first hints of light had touched the sky, Saruk at his side and a large, two handed axe held in his hand. Cobb had been up on the roof for almost an hour by the time he’d arrived, unable to sleep and a blanket around him. He had wanted to jump down, to run to his side to look him over, to make sure he was unharmed, but he knew it wasn’t his place and had to make do with watching from a distance.

As time had passed Peli and Jo had appeared beside him, and more nobles than Cobb had ever seen awake at this hour began to gather. Some servants who had tasks to get on with in the hours before dawn had to skirt around them and keep their heads down, but the crowd wasn’t big enough to cause any real delay. Din hadn’t moved more than a few inches in all the time he’d spent waiting, but he had looked up at Cobb a few times, and he was determined to be there for him.

He’d wanted to have his sword with him, to show his support in more than just his presence, but he couldn’t, else he give himself away, so he brought his makeshift staff instead -- another broken cleaning implement -- and held it across his lap. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw Din looking at it and giving him a small, almost hidden smile.

But that was probably a trick of the morning light.

When the prisoner was dragged out and held for all to see, Cobb’s grip grew so intense the wood creaked.

“Not so tight,” Jo muttered, giving him a nudge. “You’re already at a disadvantage with your idiot ass not getting any sleep last night, don’t add splinters to the mix.”

Cobb gritted his teeth before releasing a breath, carefully making his fingers relax their grip. She was right; today was the first day of the Tournament, and he couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

“Veryn of no Clan or House,” Din said, bringing the chatter to silence. “You are here to face the judgement for your crime of treason. Do you have any last words?”

The bitch held herself tall and sneered at him. “You are destroying what it is to be Mandalorian. Someone will stop you.”

Cobb had to take another deep breath to stop from gripping the staff too hard again, twisting it in his hands instead.

Din did nothing for a few moments, then nodded. “So be it.” Cobb winced at how sad he sounded, but then he tapped the butt of the axe against the ground and braced himself. “I, Din Djarin, Prince of the kingdom of Mandalore, sentence you to die. Kneel.”

“I will never kneel to you,” she spat. The guards holding the traitor pushed her forwards, moving her to the block and pushing her down to her knees.

Din picked the axe up as she was pushed down, arms and body tied to the block as she struggled. The Prince hefted the axe, and with one swing it was over.

The axe was brought up again, the blade red with blood, and Din sighed down at the now limp body. The tired look in his eyes made something twist in Cobb’s chest, but it’s gone before the head had stopped rolling, and he turned to the guards.

“Give the body to her father,” he ordered. “He deserves the time to grieve.”

They saluted him, fists over their hearts, and removed the remains. All Cobb could hear though was the echo of Din’s words.

Deserves time to grieve. He was giving the traitor’s family time to do what he had not had the chance to experience. This man had so much kindness in him that it dwarfed even his mother’s, and yet the fact that he still managed to sentence and execute a traitor spoke of a great well of inner strength.

“Cobb, you’re doing it again,” Jo said, and he looked over at her quizzically.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Pining,” Peli said with an unamused look.

Cobb snorted, but didn’t deny it. How could he when Din was so… perfect? “We have to protect him.”

“Ain’t that what we’re doing?” Peli asked.

“Yeah but… Who knows who else is gonna go after him?” Cobb asked. “She was supposed to be competing, could have even won, and then what would have stopped her from-?” He waved his hand towards Din, who was talking quietly with Saruk.

“From what I heard he managed to keep himself pretty well protected without any help,” Peli said with a roll of her eyes. “Stop worrying! He’ll be fine!”

“If you think that then why are you helping us?” Cobb asked, a sharp edge entering his voice that he instantly regrets. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” Peli said, then gave his arm a not-so-soft punch. “Ah, forget it. I get it. That kid’s had nothing but hardship these last few years. What you’re trying to do, whether it works or not, is pretty damn noble. Sure, you’re a bit in love with the guy. So what?” She poked him in the chest. “You’ve got a good heart, Cobb Vanth, and I’m gunna make sure you’re getting the right sort of support too.”

“... Thanks, Peli,” Cobb said as he blinked back tears.

“No, don’t you cry on me,” the shorter woman warned, leaning away from him. “If you cry on me you can forget it. I’m jumping off this roof and you can get your help elsewhere.”

Cobb snorted a laugh and quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “Aw, I could never turn away your help Peli. I’ll be on my best behaviour, promise.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, but nodded. “Well alright then.”

“Wait, step back a bit,” Jo said from his other side, drawing his attention. “I know you said we had to protect him, but before it was just keeping stuck-up pricks from winning.”

“It’s still that,” Cobb argued, but Jo shook her head.

“No, it’s not,” she said. “You saw how many names on that list were from noble families, and I know that this has damaged your trust -- probably everyone’s trust -- in them. The only name on it that wasn’t from some family that can trace its lineage back at least two hundred years was yours! Even if it isn’t technically your name.”

“Jo, what are you trying to say?”

The smith’s apprentice set her jaw. “You need to win.”

“Win?” He blinked and looked back out at the ward, back at Din who had handed the axe over to Saruk and started to make his way back to the keep. As though he could feel Cobb’s gaze on him, he paused in his stride and looked up at him. The stable hand quickly pressed his lips into a small smile and nodded to the Prince, and his heart swelled when he caught sight of a little smile in return before the Prince disappeared inside.

“Look at you,” Jo said, but Cobb couldn’t bring himself to look away just yet to face her. “The only person competing you’d trust with that man’s life is you, and we sure as shit can’t trust any of the nobles now that someone’s tried to kill him.”

Cobb shook his head. “I can’t win. I’m not a knight. I’m not a lordling. I don’t have any titles. I’m no one!”

“Since when has that stopped you before?” Peli asked, joining Jo in ganging up on him. “If you think it’s gonna be easy then I’m locking you in the stable, but she’s right. I’ve seen you stand up to idiots with wealth and titles a hundred times greater than you. You’ve also been beaten to shit by some folks with wealth and titles too, but you’re still standing, ain’t ya?”

“It’s why you bought the armour, right?” Jo said. “You wanted to show them that you didn’t need titles or money to be able to beat them into the dirt.”

“Well guess what; here’s your chance, tied up with a nice satin bow,” Peli said, patting him on the back.

He shook his head again. “I never signed up to win.”

“But you have to,” Jo said, and Cobb felt her press her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.”

Cobb looked over the ward again, down at the nobles who were either milling around and chatting or heading back to their tents or rooms, avoiding the block with blood pooled around it. He thought of all the names on the list, the almost three dozen contestants, and wondered how many of them had signed up because they believed the Prince deserved to be protected.

All he’d wanted, when he’d put the name he’d be riding under down, was to keep people like Ser Jaonar from winning, but Jo was right; how was he supposed to know which were and which were not?

“I’m still not a knight,” he pointed out. “Or competing under my own name.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Jo said with a grin of victory. “For now, just focus on winning.”

“And when you do win you’ll finally take your lovesick looks with you,” Peli said with almost a cheer.

“Oh, but they’ll only get worse,” Jo said, her grin turning into a smirk, and he groaned.

“Please…”

“Being right by his side, day after day,” Jo teased. “Following him everywhere he goes.”

Peli cackled. “He is pining after him , right?”

“Yep.”

The cackling doubled in volume. “Oh you are so screwed.”

“Stop,” Cobb pleaded, ducking his head into his hands.

“He’s bound to notice the eyes you make at him one day,” Jo said. “You’re not subtle about it, if you know what you’re looking for.”

“Stop, please !” he begged, and got their teasing chuckles or it. “I hate you both.”

“Love you too,” Jo said, bumping her arm against his. “Now come on, let’s get some food in you and run you through some drills to warm you up. Oh! And I added a few embellishments to your armour.”

“When did you have time to do that?”

She snorted. “You weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep last night. Now help us down and let’s grab some breakfast.”

——————————————————————

Summary: Cobb watches Din execute the traitor, but Din gives her body to her family so they can grieve. Cobb is touched by this and feels the need to protect him grow. Jo and Peli, who are with him, help him realise that if this is the case, then he needs to win the Tournament before ribbing him about his crush.

Chapter 7

#writing #fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #fic #the mandalorian #cobb vanth #din djarin #peli motto #jo (mandalorian)#medieval au #dincobb #pining #tw: execution #tw: blood

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erza155-writes · 4 years ago

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Trephacard dark royalty!au

Ok, I know jack shit about Castlevania video game lore except "what is a man" line and I'm just spit balling and weaving webs as best as i can, but bear with me.

So, best!/worst! timeline Trevor/Alucard/Sypha is post killing Dracula, they are kind of a bit broken, and a lot weary.

Alucard just killed his own dad. Trevor discovered the ruins of his family and that they were basically harvesting angel magic/enochian scripture [I haven't watched season 2 in a minute, so I might have to retcon that], and Sypha has left behind she knows for a prophecy that says she becomes a murderer-- but like, for the good of humanity.

And the thing is, I'm taking to thinking of Speakers as the 'do no harm' medics and that's nice. But Sypha after experiencing everything that she does adds the 'but take no shit' addendum.

Anyway, the 3 of them just defeated Dracula and had their worldviews kind of shifted, if not outright overturned and usurped. So, they kind of bunker down together. Cause fun fact about experiencing trauma as a group, is that it tends to make you attached [if you don’t splinter and fall apart at the seams in an attempt to avoid any further trauma]. Anyway, in this au Sypha and Trevor don't even consider leaving because Alucard has the 'I killed my dad' breakdown way sooner than expected. And Sypha is like, 'I can't imagine ever killing my family and the toll that would take on me. And it's easy to say that it was for the greater good, but he was still your father, and it's ok to be sad.' Meanwhile, Trevor is hanging about 'I know what it's like to be the last member of your line and the kind of emptiness and loneliness it breeds, so I will be here for you, but words are hard.' So, they stay and start building a relationship and a home, I guess?

They combine the Belmont Holding and Dracula's castle, and it's beautiful for one brief shining moment. But the thing about humanity and people in general is that they're stupid and paranoid and xenophobic. So the trio are trying to live in the woods and they're chilling and are kind of content.

Except, one day Trevor goes hunting for their food, and surprise surprise, gets abducted by townspeople/knights in the name of one king or the other and is thrown into a dungeon and tortured for information about the 'abominations' living in the woods. But Trevor, as always, is Trevor 'Fuck You, Personally' Belmont and sasses them and he pays a very hefty price for it. Like extensive and graphic medieval torture, and minor amputations if I can stomach writing that. Meanwhile, Sypha and Alucard are Very Worried and are tearing apart the continent looking for Trevor and things are not great for people who stand in their way. Because, once again, group trauma, and romance, and they don't feel complete when all 3 of them aren't together. And it starts out with Alucard and Sypha being polite because they were raised that way, but they're always met by closed doors and scornful eyes, and they're getting desperate, and some stupid idiot tries to disparage the Belmont name, and Sypha loses it. I haven't decided how, but it is not pretty, and Alucard barely pulls her back from the brink of madness. [Hint: they're all already mad. They just don't know it yet.]

Anyways, now that THAT incident has happened, they're more willing to use any means necessary because it has been A While since they've seen Trevor. Meanwhile, Trevor is being tortured in a dungeon and is slowly breaking down that he's going to be abandoned like this (a voice whispers in the back of his head, "like you always are. did you think anyone could care for you or love you? how delusional.") And it's not great. Anyway, Sypha and Alucard manage to find Trevor, but he is on the brink of death. It has been a while. So, Sypha tries to heal him using her magic, and Alucard's life energy, and it somehow creates a soul bond between the 3 of them. (Because, frankly the idea of Trevor and Sypha dying and leaving Alucard behind can suck major hiney.)

So, Sypha and Alucard leave a kingdom in tatters, and retreat to their home to nurse Trevor back to health. And he doesn't come back the same, (because, again, tortured for a Hot Minute) but he's learning to trust in Sypha and Alucard to take care of him.

But while they're doing that, there's an entire outside world that's out of balance and looking for leaders. And somehow, despite the fact that none of them want to do it, and they're some of the scariest motherfuckers this side of the continent, they become rulers. [I may not have emphasized it enough, but Trevor's 'Healing' involved a whole lot of fucking and love declarations btw.]

Sypha is the face that handles the people, Alucard handles infrastructure of their kingdom, and Trevor handles security. And everyone's kinda confused as to how their relationship works cause it's a game of musical partners. Like, they all sleep in the same room??? But Sypha is not married to either of them??? And Trevor and Alucard goad each other a lot??? Like, it should not possibly work, but apparently they do. And a lot of people try to test that, but they're a united front and no one knows how to break that because they don't know about the soul bond!

I like to imagine that at first they start ruling by accident, and they're just trying to make things better for their people, but Sypha looks around and says 'we can make things better' and Trevor and Alucard are in love and would set the world on fire for her, so bringing her kingdoms is nothing in comparison. Anyhow, they take over Europe, and it's equal parts bloody and innovative. Like yes, the wars are bad, but Trevor and Alucard are tyrants and they usually make sure their victories are complete and that everyone is too beaten down to consider fighting back. And then Sypha comes in and provides them with aid and technology and makes life better, and that's how they gain a lot of people's loyalty.

And so that's how it goes for about a century or so, until people get stupid (as they always do) and there's an uprising. And it somehow works because the people are being backed by Angels [who are now, and forever always will be bastards. Ameen. Thank you, supernatural and good omens for that influence] because Angels are not happy with progress because if you're busy being happy with science, you're not spending enough time and being worshipful of God, I guess. (Is this very thin and transparent and weak logic? Yes. But I'm just listing thoughts) so, the trio die together, defending what they loved [each other] and that's the end because idk how to be happy, I guess. They absolutely die holding each other btw.

Link to the mood board

Addendum:

I like to imagine that they become rulers because post torture Trevor throws himself with gusto into the predetermined Belmont Protector role. Sypha remembers looking for Trevor and how unfeeling people were, and she wants to make that world a better place. And Alucard loves them both enough not to realize he's essentially becoming his father, but with two human leashes. And it's all fun and games until assassination attempts, and power corrupting. Also, I know I said they died, but I'm definitely adding an epilogue reincarnation because if I do put anyone through all of that, they deserve a sliver of happy ending

#Castlevania #trephacard #sypha/trevor/alucard #sypha belnades #alucard #alucard tepes #trevor belmont

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hyperpsychomaniac · 4 years ago

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Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 4

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

“Are we there yet? I thought you said this was supposed to be fun?”

Launchpad shook his head and grinned. “Nearly there, kiddo.” The whining should have been bugging him. But he was surprised she’d actually come. This one was much more of a troublemaker than his Gosalyn had been. Not that she hadn’t upset her adoptive father on more than one occasion, but that had always been innocently. She’d been such an odd child.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“Launchpad doesn’t ignore me.”

“I’m not your Launchpad.” The Negaverse Launchpad took one last drag on his cigarette, then stomped it out under his boot and carefully kicked dirt over it. “Look, we’re here.”

They’d come upon a derelict little shack. Behind it ran an old creek bed, all but dry in the arid weather.

Gosalyn frowned. “I’m still not impressed.”

“Man, you’re a tough little nut, aren’t you?” Launchpad booted open the rusty door, and the whole hovel rattled and shook. A single, not-quite-upright support column propped up a support beam that ran across the centre of the roof. The column visibly swayed, dust rained down from the rotting ceiling and the old kerosene lamp he’d hung up bounced around, but the shack stood firm. One day he was going to send the whole thing crashing down, and that was exactly the reason Launchpad kept booting the door in so hard. Inside was littered with fuel cans, butane canisters, a couple lengths of PVC pipe, crates of bottles and cans, some old course rope, and, of course, potatoes.

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the gun? This is just a pile of trash.”

Launchpad winced. The terrible thing was she was right. He really missed his rocket launcher. He scooped up the PVC pipe and tossed it to her. “Well, you’re going to learn how to make a gun from a pile of trash. Grab the other half. I’ll get the potatoes.”

Gosalyn looked at him like he’d grown another head. But he definitely had her hooked. She grabbed the other length of pipe, and carried them both outside.

Launchpad gulped at the lump in his throat. Oh man. He was getting attached way too fast. Hanging out with Gosalyn had roused that faint feeling of guilt down inside. He’d have liked to have thought he’d gotten between his Gosalyn and Negaduck once or twice, that he’d protected her. But the truth was, despite all his faults, Negaduck would never dream of physically hurting his daughter. He had other ways of keeping her in line. Launchpad had never stood between them; he’d never had the guts. He’d just been the guy who was usually around when Negaduck got so fed up with his daughter he felt like hurting someone. At least now his Gosalyn was being looked after way better then he’d ever been capable of in Negaduck’s house. She was better off without him.

Launchpad huffed and hefted up the crate of potatoes. “Bastard.” He booted one of the butane canisters and sent it spinning out the door.

“Hey!”

“Pick it up. We need it.”

Outside, Gosalyn was trying to assemble the bits of PVC pipe, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Here.” Launchpad set up the pipe to form the canon, resting it on its makeshift tripod so it pointed out and over the dry creek bed. Across the other side he’d previously set up crates, bottles and cans. And, most importantly, nothing that he’d get in trouble for hurling a potato clean through.

Gosalyn was picking up on the general idea. She rifled through the crate of potatoes, picked a good sized one, and rolled it down the tube. Then she scowled. “How’s a bit of plastic supposed to fire a potato?”

Launchpad picked up the tin of butane and spun it around so Gosalyn could see the ‘caution: flammable’ warning on its side. “We’re going to set this. On fire.”

“You’ve really got a theme, don’t you?”

Launchpad filled the tube with gas, and sat himself behind the pipe to line her up and make sure the recoil didn’t send the whole thing spinning off. That had been pretty funny the first time he’d fired it, and Gosalyn probably would get a kick out of the whole contraption knocking him on his ass. But he wasn’t going to risk it with the child of the superhero who probably still didn’t trust him around. Satisfied everything was set up as safe as a potato gun could be, her lit her up.

The potato shot out of the tube with a pop, sailed through the air and splattered some hundred yards across the other side of the creek.

Gosalyn’s jaw dropped. “Keen gear.”

Launchpad loaded and fired off a half dozen more. Truth was the thing was impossible to aim, and he rarely had to go out to set up new targets. Still, he somehow managed to send a potato splintering through an old crate he’d set up. He broke down laughing, which really confused Gosalyn. He’d spent far too long scratching a likeness of Negaduck into that crate, but you couldn’t actually see it from this distance.

“Okay, you weirdo. If you’re going to sit there and giggle, I think that means its my turn.”

“Alright, alright. Let me get you set up. This things got a fair bit of kick. Wait…” The sound of an engine cut into the desert air. It sounded like a motorbike. Launchpad’s eyes narrowed and his fists tensed at his sides.

“Is that a motorbike? What, what is it?”

“Probably that damn kid.” Launchpad drew in a breath, and fought down the part of himself that still wanted to deal with any annoyance with as much force as possible. He’d kept it at bay last time, even if Mrs McQuack hadn’t been entirely happy when he’d told her what happened. “I caught him riding on the McQuack’s property a few weeks ago. When I told him to clear off, he back-chatted me. So I fired a potato in his general direction. I think he got the message.”

Now, he was going to have to find some other way to deal with the situation. Mrs McQuack had told him off, despite the fact he’d made it clear he hadn’t actually fired the potato straight at the brat. She hadn’t made him do anything dumb like go apologise, but she’d told him not to fire projectiles at or near people again. Especially kids. “At least, I thought he got the message.” Launchpad shielded his eyes as he searched for the machine. It was familiar, but now he wasn’t sure it was that same kid’s bike.

“Fill her up. Check. Aim. Light her up!”

Launchpad didn’t realise what Gosalyn was doing until the PVC pipe let out a decidedly louder than normal pop. The slam of an impact and splintering wood followed a split second later.

Launchpad spun around. “Shit!”

The PVC pipe bounced and rattled along the ground then rolled to rest. Gosalyn slumped against the side of the shack where she’d been thrown, one of the brittle boards cracked and splintered behind her head.

“No, no, no…” Launchpad skidded to his knees beside her and gently shook her shoulders. “Kiddo?”

The motorbike rattled up behind him and the engine shuddered off. Even a bratty kid would help. And if he didn’t, he could donate his bike to getting Gosalyn back to the house as quick as possible.

“Oh. Wow. Nice job. She’s been here, what, three hours? I can’t believe I used to let you babysit. In fact, I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

Launchpad��s chest tightened; he couldn’t breathe. His vision grew fuzzy around the edges. All he could focus on was his trembling hands and how they engulfed Gosalyn’s tiny shoulders. Gosalyn. Launchpad finally managed to suck in a gasp of air, and the oxygen cleared his head. He couldn’t let him hurt this Gosalyn. Launchpad gathered every ounce of his strength and turned to face the voice from his past.

“You ran away from me too, didn’t you?” Negaduck. He was right. There. His yellow and black motorcycle behind him, and Launchpad wondered how he’d ever mistaken its sound for a dirt bike. “So much for loyalty.”

“What are you doing here?” Launchpad’s voice grated and caught in his throat.

“I tailed that idiot Darkwing Duck. Figured I could have a little fun out here.” Negaduck’s beak split into a wide grin. “But this is a surprise. Where’ve you been, buddy?”

“I was never your buddy. You have to leave. Now.” His voice sounded weak, pathetic. Even to his own ears.

Negaduck laughed. “Oh, someone definitely ran away, didn’t they?” The cackle cut off just as quickly, then Negaduck was right on top of him, grabbing him by the collar, pressing his beak against his. “You don’t tell me what to do!”

Launchpad stumbled back under the unexpected weight and his heart-rate rocketed. He shoved Negaduck off and threw up his guard. “Don’t touch me!”

Negaduck raised his hands and took a step back, chuckling. “Someone’s developed a backbone.”

“You can’t. Be here. You’re whole deal is Saint Canard, and Darkwing Duck, and… you can’t mess with the McQuacks. They’re good people. They don’t live in a place like Saint Canard. They can’t deal with all this superhero and villain stuff.”

“The McQuacks, huh?” Negaduck stroked his beak, completely ignoring the fact Launchpad was squared up like he wanted to fight. “Oh, you idiot, what have you been doing? Playing happy little families? This isn’t your world, you know.”

“Never stopped you from trying to take it over.”

Negaduck flung his arms wide. “That’s because I’m ambitious. But now, there’s an idea. Messing with a cute innocent country family whilst Darkwing Duck tries to protect them? Could be fun.”

“Negaduck, don’t.”

“Come on, Launchpad. You know it will be. I know I usually left you in charge of the home front. But, seeing as you’re here, why don’t we both have a little fun?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Negaduck waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll let you fly my aeroplane.”

The faintest hint of a thrill rose in Launchpad’s chest. He was actually letting him… And then, slowly, he lowered his fists. “I… I can’t believe I let you take that away from me. I’ve got plenty of aeroplanes I can fly now. And the people who own them don’t tease me with them, and make me feel like I have to earn every last little shred of respect!”

“Been behaving yourself, have you? Got them fooled? Please. What do you think they’ll think about this?” He pointed a finger at Gosalyn. “Or this?” And jabbed his thumb back into his own chest. “As soon as they see who you really are they won’t be so forgiving.”

“Darkwing’s here.”

“Yeah, and you just knocked out his daughter. Listen up, Launchpad. I’m giving you a choice. As soon as your little surrogate family realises I’m here, they’re going to start asking questions. They’re going to think you called me, or at least that taking you in was what brought this tragedy down upon them…”

“You leave them alone.”

“Maybe I will. I’d rather cause my havoc at night anyway, so I’ll give you until sunset. Then, you’re going to come back to this sad little shack and you’re going to tell me you’re ready to help me take down Darkwing Duck. In return, I’ll let these good, kind people get away with simply the scare of me slaughtering a superhero in their back garden. Or, you oppose me, or tell Darkwing I’m here, and if that happens…” Negaduck cackled. “I’ll burn this whole place to the ground, along with any soul unfortunate enough to get in my way!”

Launchpad’s fists shook at his sides. Grab him now. Tie him up. Beat him to a pulp. He’s half your size! All those thoughts bounced around in his head. But he didn’t move. “Negaduck, please don’t.”

Negaduck threw a leg over his motorcycle and started her up. “Think about it, old pal. It really would be fun causing chaos with you again.” Then he gunned the engine, skidded around so the bike threw up a wave of dirt, and tore away.

As soon as the motorcycle disappeared over the nearest rise, Launchpad’s knees buckled. His back slammed into the old shack besides Gosalyn and he put his face in his hands. “Aw, kid. What am I supposed to do?” He fished the packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, and fumbled to push out a single one so he could grab hold of it. The simple task was almost impossible.

Gosalyn shot to her feet. “I knew I needed to keep an eye on you!”

“Shit!” The packet jumped from Launchpad’s hands and cigarettes scattered everywhere. “Damn it, kid. I thought you’d really hurt yourself.”

Gosalyn put her hands on her hips. “Don’t play games with me. I saw you talking to Negaduck! You’re still working for him, aren’t you?”

Launchpad’s heart plummeted. “No! I didn’t even know he was here, I swear.”

“A likely… story…” Gosalyn blinked a couple of times, then sat down heavily.

“Aw, man, you’re not okay, are you?” Launchpad reached out for her.

Gosalyn swiped a hand in front of her face. “Back off, buster.”

He could’ve scooped her up and there would be nothing she could do about it, but Launchpad paused in his advance. “You hit you’re head. I just want to check you’re okay.” He reached out for her again, slowly, and she lowered her hand. He felt her head. There was no blood, but he thought he could feel a decent sized bump.

Gosalyn tolerated it for a second, then slapped at his hand. “Ow, stop.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.” She frowned up at him. “Your hands are shaking.”

Launchpad swallowed hard. “I’m not working for Negaduck. Please believe me. He was just… there. He said if I didn’t help him he’d hurt the McQuacks. What am I supposed to do?” Suddenly, nothing seemed as important as this kid believing him. He didn’t know what else to say to convince her.

“I must’ve really hit my head… okay. He must’ve followed us from Saint Canard. Maybe we should tell Dad.”

“No! We can’t. If I tell Darkwing, Negaduck’s going to hurt the McQuacks. I have to deal with this myself. And if the McQuacks find out…” If he lost their trust, he didn’t know he could take it. No wonder this world’s Launchpad had been so angry with him when he arrived. It didn’t matter that he’d changed. He’d dragged trouble right along with him. Launchpad hung his head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Gosalyn leaned over and swiped her knuckles into his arm. It was a terrible punch, and he was sure she could’ve done better had she not been semi out of it. “Come on. Where would you be if you hadn’t crashed in their front yard?”

Not causing trouble for innocent families for sure. Launchpad stood to his feet and held out a hand. “Can you get up?”

Gosalyn pushed herself to shaky feet and grabbed onto his arm.

“Right, I’d better carry you.”

“You are not carrying me like a baby.”

“I’m not letting you walk.”

“Hang on. Crouch down.”

Launchpad did as she instructed. Gosalyn managed to make a little jump, and hook her arms around his neck. Launchpad hefted her up in a piggy back, making sure he had his arms under her in case she passed out again and lost her grip. He started heading back to the house. “You’re not going to tell your Dad about Negaduck, right?”

“Okay fine. But you have to do something for me first.”

Despite his apprehension, Launchpad rolled his eyes. This kid was something else. “I’m not letting you play with the potato gun again. But, go on, anything else. What do you want?”

“I know Negaduck’s not a nice guy. But you’re terrified of him. What did he do to you? Launchpad told me about him making you burn your planes, but, you know, what else?”

Launchpad’s guts tightened. “Aw, man, kid. You don’t pull any punches do you?”

“If someone scared my Launchpad that bad… well, that’s why I was so mad at you.”

“Okay, okay…” There was plenty to choose from. Some he certainly wouldn’t share with a kid. But neither did Launchpad want to downplay her question by choosing something like Negaduck getting way too competitive about playing punchies, which had never really bothered him at all. And then he thought about his own Gosalyn. “It wasn’t just me he was a jerk to…”

***

“Come on, Negaduck. Are you sure you’re not going a bit overboard?”

“Stop whining,” Negaduck grumbled as he balanced on Launchpad’s shoulders so he could tie his minion’s wrists to the branch above. The dying tree in Negaduck’s backyard couldn’t take his weight, so they’d just settled for stringing him up to it with his feet still on the ground. “You’re the idiot who let her keep talking about getting a pink pinata for her birthday. Honestly, I leave you two alone for five minutes…”

“You beat a pinata with a stick! I thought you wanted her to find something violent to enjoy? Sounds like violence to me.”

“She wants a pink pony pinata because its supposed to have candy inside. Urgh. I don’t want any daughter of mine getting candy for her birthday. By this age, I expect her to ask me for a butterfly knife or something.” Negaduck finished his knot, then leapt back to the ground. “If she wants to hit something with a stick the only thing she should enjoy getting out of it is blood and teeth.” He scooped up the rolled up bit of cardboard that had come with the pinata Gosalyn thought she was getting, and thumped Launchpad heavily on the chest with it.

Launchpad grinned. “Heh. Yeah. That’s always fun. I’m glad she won’t be knocking anything out with that flimsy piece of trash though. But we’ve got to start her somewhere, right?”

“Oh, yeah of course.” Negaduck dug amongst the smashed paper mache they’d already destroyed in the corner of the yard, and came up with a handful of colourful candy, and a pink ribbon. “Now, hold still.”

“I don’t want that thing in my hair… wha…”

Negaduck rammed the candy, wrappers and all, into Launchpad’s beak, then trussed it up with the pink ribbon. “That’s much better.” He grinned, patted Launchpad on his bulging check, then screamed: “Gosalyn! Get your butt out here. It’s pinata time!”

Gosalyn stumbled out of the house in her pink party dress, blindfolded. She grinned madly as she swayed across the yard like a drunk man. “Dad! Can I at least see the pinata first?”

“What? And break the pinata rules?” Negaduck winked at Launchpad. Then he hurled the rolled up piece of cardboard over the Muddlefoot’s fence. “Won’t be needing this!” He reached into the pile of paper mache and pulled out an aluminium baseball bat.

Launchpad shuffled back. “Nefadufck…” he mumbled around the plastic mixed with sickly sweet goop in his mouth.

“Stay where you are, Launchpad!” Negaduck barked.

Launchpad jerked to a halt at the order.

“What?” said Gosalyn. “What’s he doing?”

“Being pushy. You know how he likes smashing thing. But you’re the party girl; so you get to go first.” Negaduck shoved the bat into Gosalyn’s hands and adjusted her grip. He pointed her to face Launchpad.

Gosalyn tapped the bat on Launchpad’s hip.

“Higher, sweetheart. If you want it to spill, you need to hit it right in the guts.” Negaduck leaned forward, hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a wicked grin splitting his beak.

Gosalyn adjusted her grip. All the practice Launchpad had with her in the back yard was paying off; her swing was perfect. The bat slammed up under his ribs. Launchpad dropped. The flimsy bough broke under his weight and snapped in half on impact across his back. Launchpad doubled over as bile leapt up his throat and mixed with the gunk in his mouth. He spluttered and gagged and couldn’t get air, and then the flimsy pink ribbon popped and the whole mess spilled out on the browning lawn.

Gosalyn ripped her blindfold off. No way she could’ve been fooled that impact had been with paper mache. The bat clattered to the ground at her side.

“Gosalyn… I’m… kay…” Launchpad said, then sagged back down with a wheeze.

Gosalyn’s eyes filled with tears. “Launchpad, I’m sorry.” She bolted back into the house.

Negaduck cackled. “Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Launchpad spat, then pushed himself to his knees, a hand still to his belly.

Negaduck grabbed him by the collar. “Next time, I expect you to talk her out of this kind of garbage before I have to get involved. I can find someone much bigger than a little girl to take a swing at you.” He hauled him to his feet and flung him towards the house. “Now go ask her if she wants cake!”

***

He’d carried Gosalyn almost all the way back to the house now. Launchpad gulped and adjusted his grip underneath her. Between Darkwing Duck and the McQuacks, he really didn’t know how this would pan out.

“You can put me down now.”

Launchpad let her slip off his back. She grabbed him around the waist and hugged him tight.

“Hey… what?”

“I’m sorry, Launchpad. I knew Negaduck was a jerkface, but… I won’t tell my Dad. And I’ll help you take care of Negaduck.”

“Heh.” Launchpad prised her off him. “Let’s just make sure you’re okay first.”

***

Drake had paced the porch for the last half hour. His only consolation, despite Birdie’s assurances that the Negaverse Launchpad was harmless, was that it was highly unlikely he had kidnapped his daughter. Gosalyn would have taken off with him simply because she knew her father wouldn’t like it.

Finally, he saw her coming down the front path, Launchpad’s double trailing almost right behind her. Drake cleared the front steps and rushed to meet his daughter. “Gosalyn, don’t go running off like that!”

He knew something was wrong when Gosalyn looked up at him, not ready for an argument, but with relief. And then she slumped into his arms. Drake clamped her tight to her chest. His gaze snapped up to the Negaverse Launchpad, and the only thing that stopped him from slamming a fist into his face was supporting his daughter. “What did you do?” he hissed.

“Dad, it’s okay,” said Gosalyn, though she still clung to him. “It’s not his fault. I was being stupid and I fell over.”

Launchpad shuffled a boot through the dirt. “She hit her head. I’m sorry. I thought I was watching her.” The subdued moment was just so… Launchpad, that it gave Drake pause. His buddy’s double actually felt bad about this. So he should, but still.

Leaning on the porch railing beside his wife, Ripcord went rigid. “Wait, she hit her head?” He paled several shades. “I’ll… doctor…” He bolted back inside so quickly the door slammed into the wall and the front windows rattled.

Birdie winced. “Rip! It’s okay, she’s conscious…” She hung her head in resignation. “Great. We’re going to have the entirety of the town’s medical staff here in ten minutes. I thought we were past this.”

Drake scooped Gosalyn up, despite her half-hearted protestations, threw a glare at Launchpad’s double, and followed Birdie inside. His heart still thudded in his chest, but it was steadily slowing. He wasn’t sure how mad he was supposed to be at the Negaverse Launchpad. I mean, he’d be mad at Launchpad if he’d let something like this happen, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. He wasn’t surprised Gosalyn had gone and down something dumb. It wasn’t the first time.

“Yes, send them now!” Ripcord growled into the phone.

Birdie, put a hand on his arm. “Ripcord, calm down. Here…” She took the phone off him. “Yes, she’s conscious. But if you could send one of the doctors over that’d be great.” She hung up, then turned back to her husband and grasped his hands. “Are you alright?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Ripcord grumbled.

Launchpad pushed past them, not making eye contact with anyone, and went into the kitchen.

Drake took Gosalyn into the living room, put her down onto the sofa and rearranged the cushions around her.

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you are. Although, its not the first time you’ve given yourself a concussion.” He squeezed her shoulder. “That head of yours is nearly as hard as Launchpad’s. You’ll be fine.”

“My son does not have a hard head,” said Ripcord. “And neither does your daughter! You don’t know what happened to her; it could be serious. How can you be so blase about your own child…”

Drake saw red. He whirled and stabbed a finger into Ripcord’s chest. “I think I know whether my daughter needs medical attention or not, thank you very much!”

Although Drake had intended to give him a good prod in the chest, he found himself pointing just above the man’s belly button. Ripcord glared down at him, and then his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

Drake lowered his hand. “I… yeah, I know. Thanks for, you know, being so on the ball and calling the doctor. Sorry, I overreacted.”

Ripcord smiled tightly. “Hey, its fine, I get it. I have kids too, remember?” He turned to Birdie. “How long ago did we call?”

“Speaking of kids,” said Birdie. “I heard one of our planes come back over. Launchpad might be back in the hanger. You should go talk to him. He’ll be in a better mood after taking a plane out.”

“Yeah, but…”

Birdie patted his arm.“Not your kid. We’ll handle it. You know you’ll just get underfoot.”

“Probably,” Ripcord huffed. He glanced one last time at Gosalyn, then headed out the front door.

Launchpad came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and took it to Gosalyn. Drake snatched it off him, then handed it over to her.

“Dad, really?”

“I don’t know what you two were up to,” he said, voice low. “But you are not going out together unsupervised again!”

***

Chapter 5

#darkwing duck #darkwing #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfiction #dwd #dwd91 #darkwing duck 1991 #nega launchpad #negalaunchpad #gosalyn mallard #drake mallard #ripcord mcquack #birdie mcquack #negaduck #disney ducks

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delldarling · 4 years ago

Text

priorities | merrick

chasing truth | chapter three male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 3494 words sfw | mentions of found family, anxiety chapter index? or chapter two?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

Human jobs are, on the whole, useless things. Merrick watches humans day in and day out, cringing as they trudge into their work places, lamenting their chosen profession, or the people they work with, or work for. Very few of them seem to enjoy themselves, and those that put on a brave face, that smile and appear gracious? They reek of lies.

But the purpose of them is fairly important.

Merrick cares for you. He wants to spend as much time as possible with you.. But hanging onto your every word and dogging your steps will not help him move through the human realm. He can glamour his way into and out of buildings, he can steal food and clothing, but he knows without a doubt that neither you nor Gar would approve.

Gar isn’t much help when it comes to seeking work either though. Merrick isn’t as easily entertained as Gar is. He has no desire to sit in an apartment, day after day, watching television or playing games. Some are fairly amusing, he’ll concede, but... Gar’s explained the “work” behind it before, reviewing products, answering questions-

“My honest answers are amusing to them,” Gar had told him with a sly grin and a shrug. “And it’s- it’s engaging. I don’t have time to worry when I’m caught up in them.” Merrick pretends not to notice that his grin fades infinitesimally when he says the last. If he notices, he’ll have to ask, and if he asks, Gar will have to avoid the question. While he would struggle to admit it out loud, Merrick doesn’t want to press. He wants Gar to tell him on his own terms, even if sooner would be ideal.

Merrick prefers to move, to do something, to go somewhere- or to nap. But as he has no desire to let humans study him while he sleeps, he searches a little closer to home. Eventually he finds himself roped into doing handiwork for Gar’s apartment complex. The building manager is kind and elderly and is all too happy to have any form of help she can get in this day and age. Mildred asks for no credentials, which makes Merrick wonder if Gar glamoured her somehow, but no. Gar shakes his head and shrugs when Merrick turns to glance at him over his shoulder. She’s simply that trusting.

He’d never tell Gar or any of the friends he’s slowly making here, but it’s absolutely maddening, being in the woman’s employ because he cannot seem to stop worrying. Mildred is frail and thinks so highly of anyone that smiles that he half fears her being injured by any of the humans walking down the street.

Gar laughs himself silly the first time he notices Merrick’s worrying, and then he has to swear Gar to secrecy or risk everyone knowing.

Still, everything feels like- like it’s falling into place. He’s making human currency, rather than stealing it, and he has a place to live, never mind that it’s with Garrick. Though he would prefer not having Gar looking over his shoulder every day. Or rather, most of the time. Despite how irritating Gar is, how cluttered the apartment is with things…

For the first time in recent memory, Merrick’s room holds more than necessities. As soon as he has his first paycheck in hand, Merrick replaces the sheets and bedding Gar so happily lent him. The drawn characters will haunt his dreams, but they were incentive to work steadily (and ignore those humans that insist on watching him as he completes his tasks) simply so he could dump them right in front of Gar’s bedroom door. He pretends to ignore Gar’s cackling when he trips over them, teasing Merrick about having truly grown up, having his own job, buying his own sheets- But Merrick has a smile on his face when he slams the bedroom door shut.

He keeps a clover that you tuck into his lapel one day, insisting he needs a touch of green. He sets it on a small shelf he puts into the wall himself, as well as a stack of How To books for house repair, all to help him in his work duties for the apartment complex. Eventually he invests in one of those ridiculous little music players, because he cannot take listening to Gar’s movies or his playing games in the next room over, day in and day out. It’s still sparse, still mostly bare, but he’s eager to come back to it, every time he leaves.

Merrick is living.

He really, truly, should have expected it all to end sooner.

He’s in the midst of waking for the day, hair mussed and eyes still heavy, when Gar bursts into his bedroom, door ricocheting off of the wall. Merrick is up on his feet, reaching for his blade before he can process, but his blade isn’t on him. It hasn’t been on him for nearly half a year. It’s in the bag he’s shoved underneath his bed, pushed carefully into the corner to keep visitors from spotting it.

“This isn’t the smartest way to go about things,” he starts, shoulders slumping when he realizes it’s just Gar. And then he notes the divet in the wall and his mouth opens, ready to chastise his carelessness because Merrick is going to have to fix that-

Gar looks a bit panicked though, and the tightness of his expression halts Merrick’s tirade in its tracks. Perhaps the panicked expression is over the human Gar is so enamored with. In fact.. The thought perks Merrick right up. He can ignore the hole in the wall for a chance like this. He’s put up with plenty of teasing over the past year, and if Gar is handing him the chance to tease him back, then, by all means, he’s going to seize it. Merrick gives him a lazy smile, mouth parting-

“You’ve got to leave,” Gar blurts, fingers trembling around the doorframe. He forgets himself for a moment, squeezing too tightly, and the frame starts to splinter under his grip. Both of them jump at the noise. Gar curses and pulls his hand away, brushing the wood hastily onto his jeans, uncaring when it peppers the carpet.

“I’ve finally gotten under your skin then?” Merrick asks, confused about the strange ache in his chest. It should’t mean anything, of course. He’s been talking about leaving Gar’s for ages, and surely he’ll be able to talk to Mildred about a different place. She’s always told him to ask if he needs to. “You’ll have to give me a day or two, if you don’t mind. I’m sure I can talk to-”

“No,” Gar says, crossing the room in a quick stride and taking Merrick by the shoulders. “You’ve got to get out of here, now. There’s another Fae in town, absolutely cloaked with glamour-”

Merrick’s heart drops like a stone.

“-and while I’m fairly sure they weren’t aware of me, they were close. If either of us want to escape notice, I think it best that we split up-”

“Are you an idiot?” Merrick asks, knocking Gar’s hands off of his shoulders. “If it’s anyone from the Court of Air, I’ll be able to-”

“What?” Gar asks, and he steps further into Merrick’s space. His face is lined with tension, jaw clenched, hands shaking at his sides while his cheeks flush hotly. “Merrick, you stayed in the human realm. You didn’t kill me. You’re living with me. It’s likely that they’ve assumed I killed you-” Merrick scoffs, but Gar ignores the interruption. “-so they aren’t looking for you. The Queen still wants me dead!”

“Tell me why,” Merrick tries to say, but Gar just keeps talking over him.

“And if they’re one of your comrades, I’m sure they’ll be looking for revenge. So I’m the priority. If they’re anything like either of us, they’re not going to be vastly familiar with humans, so we can keep in contact easily with our phones, but-” Gar sighs, dropping the glamour on his arms. He wiggles his green tinged hands and then brushes awkwardly over the point of his ears. “It looks like I’ll be taking a page out of your book. I have clothes that can cover me, but this place still has glamour residue - we live here. They’re going to hunt this place down eventually-”

“I never found your home before you brought me here,” Merrick interrupts, stalking after Gar as the lumbering oaf turns on his heel, heading towards his bedroom. “And I’m an expert in glamour tracking-” He just barely avoids Gar closing his bedroom door in his face and he slaps his hand against the wood in retaliation, scowling.

“I didn’t invite any humans here until after you moved in,” Gar explains, opening and closing dresser drawers. “But now everyone is over multiple times a week and I have to glamour myself while they’re here.”

Merrick curses, hand sliding down the paneling, and then he lets his head thunk against the closed door. All Merrick has ever done is throw on a cap and a long sleeved shirt and call it good, but Gar- He’s right. Gar glamours, not very fond of covering his ears or his hands. There’s hints of glamour all over the place now, and if he had this much to go off of, it’s very likely that he would have found him within the first week.

He wouldn’t be here right now, and neither would Gar. He would have completed his work within the first... Two days and left the human realm with nothing more than a roll of his eyes, eager to be free of the stench.

Gar’s footsteps move away from his dresser.

Merrick steps away from the door before it can open, heart thundering in his chest. When Gar steps out, he’s wearing long sleeves, gloves and a hat. It looks- strange. The worry on Gar’s face melts away though and he grins at Merrick, plucking at the shirt sleeves.

“It’s cold outside, and I look even more like a human this way, right?” He does. But it’s almost wrong, not being able to see the true Garrick beneath his glamour. He’s never hidden this much of himself, not from Merrick, not once.

“Yes, but Gar, you can’t honestly expect-”

“Go visit your crush,” Gar teases, breezing past him. “Maybe you’ll actually work up the nerve to do more than stand there and stare, hm?”

Merrick can’t let this happen. What if he isn’t around and that is why Gar ends up getting hurt? He whirls, snatching at Gar’s arm, fingers closing around his bicep, and then Merrick is on the floor, wheezing. It feels like he was hit in the chest by stone.

It takes him almost too long to realize that it was Gar that put him on the floor, and it’s his hand, heavy on Merrick’s chest, holding him down. He’s known, he always has, that Gar was hiding things. He could tell that he moved well, too well for a Fae who seemed to be masquerading as a nobody. He was never some kind of gardener, despite his talent with plants - those from the Court of Land always have some kind of affinity for growing things. Just their presence makes grass greener, makes cut plants last longer. Merrick makes another wheezing noise, reaching up to grasp at Gar’s forearm when he presses down just a little harder.

Gar’s face morphs from frighteningly serious, to surprise, and then he looks contrite, pulling his hand away from Merrick’s chest. He immediately grasps Merrick by each wrist and pulls him back to his feet, patting awkwardly at the aching spot he’s left behind.

“I forgot myself,” Gar whispers, and then he takes a step back. “Go. Call me when you get there, try not to leave and for the sake of Land and Air: Do something about your pining, hm? Your human will waste away if you don’t get off of your rear.”

“I could say the same,” Merrick says back, though his voice is strained and he can’t help rubbing his fingertips over what will surely be a bruise. The pressure of his touch doesn’t help any, and Merrick knows there will be a lingering ache for the rest of the day at least. “If it’s someone from-”

“None of that,” Gar says with a sigh. “Grab your things, if you feel the need, and then go. Both of us need to be out of here within the hour.”

He’s right, and Merrick wishes he could get angry with him for it. He turns to his room, debating on what he should take as he glances around the walls. As proud as he is of his things though, there’s nothing inside that he can’t replace. What’s made this place a home has been the people, and Merrick wonders again how exactly he could have made such a change, in only a year.

He finds himself hoping that the Fae is a nobody, or perhaps a denizen of the Court of Land. He doesn’t want to see anyone from his own Court. Because if he does? He can’t help feeling that things may be bloodier for it.

Merrick finishes dressing, wearing clothes as warm as the ones Gar chose, though in far darker colors. He can’t help halting in the doorway as Gar flicks off all the lights behind him, watching his eyes comb over each useless trinket and stack of paper.

“Where is that Air haughtiness?” Gar asks wryly, when he notices Merrick staring. “You’ve always been so above all of this human nonsense.” He laughs though, carefully setting a small plastic figure back on its feet. “Though I suppose if anything gets ruined, it’ll be fun tracking down new ones.”

“Did you kill someone?” Merrick finds himself asking, and immediately wants to take it back. He has to know though. He has to.

Gar’s face clouds over and he looks down at the ground for a moment, but when he meets Merrick’s eyes, there’s no lie in the shape of his mouth.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” he says clearly, brown eyes searching Merrick’s. “I tried to prevent another’s death.”

Merrick nods, because even if it hadn’t been a sure thing, it had been the answer he’d been hoping to hear. Even if Gar had killed someone, it wouldn’t matter to Merrick. For years, for centuries, Merrick has done nothing but kill others. He’s tempted to tell him, but Merrick doesn’t say it - they don’t have time to argue, and if he utters the words there will be an argument over semantics. Gar has always been that kind of Fae. That kind of person.

You’ve a far better heart than I, he thinks, and walks out the door, shoving his hands into his empty pockets. He desperately hopes they’ll both be able to come back.

Merrick is a street away from your apartment building when he comes to an awkward stop on the sidewalk.

Gar had been completely right. They both needed to get out of their place and lay low somewhere else, but.. He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, twisting his fingers together in nervousness, gritting his teeth. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he should come to you with these problems dogging his heels.

You still know next to nothing about Merrick or Gar, or where either of them have come from. Not really. He’s told you stilted stories about what he recalls of his parents, and he’s told you once or twice about Kiera and her skills with clothing. But he’s kept his origins so close to his chest, for almost a year now, that it seems.. It is silly, running towards you with such danger close at hand. You know nothing about his work.

Nothing about Aodhfin. And that says everything, doesn't it?

He can’t help glancing up at the sky and the corners of buildings. His eyes dart to trees next, though there aren’t any near and large enough that could reasonably hide someone from the Court of Air. Not anyone larger than a pixie, anyway, and Gar wouldn't have felt pixie glamour, not with plenty of human realm pixies about already.

He starts walking again, scuffing the toe of his sneakers against the pavement. Even if he does get to your place - what then? Is he just going to waltz in and park himself on your couch, expecting you to play host for who knows how long? You enjoy his company. He knows that much. The two of you.. You flirt, but that doesn't mean you want him invading your space. Your home. Never mind that he's been there plenty of times before, that you've given him a standing invitation to come over- Merrick almost turns around right then. A crow swooping overhead startles him back into nerve wracking movement.

As soon as your apartment building is in view, the front door gleaming in the sunshine, Merrick stops. He waffles between two slabs of concrete, like he's frightened about accidentally stepping on a crack. If he walks through those doors, he's bringing worse things than childhood rhymes to your doorstep. And of course with his heart beating so fast, the thud of it heavy in the veins of his throat, the echo of it within his ears.. He’s fairly sure every person he passes is going to see it. He’s not entirely sure he’s done a good job of hiding his panic from any of the passers-by on the street either, not with the looks people have been giving him- are currently giving him. He needs to go somewhere, but-

He passes the doors, cutting to the corner of the building, and lifts his head, eyes tracing the balcony railings. He counts them, thinking of your floor number, and as soon as he’s sure no one is watching, he climbs. He doesn’t dare risk the use of glamour. Not in or even outside the building. If he’s going to spend any amount of time here today, he has to keep a damper on anything that might give away his location to another Fae. He can’t use anything but his own strength.

Humans do it too, this climbing without aid, but he can never seem to recall the name for it. He hopes, if anyone catches sight of him, that it will only be impressed teenagers, not law enforcement. Even if they wouldn’t particularly bother him, he doesn’t want you to have to deal with them, and without the use of glamour-

Merrick laments not finding some kind of fake ID. It had seemed like such an inane item when Gar had once suggested it to him, but it would have it’s uses at the moment. Actually, it would have had its uses a thousand times over the past year. “Getting into bars wouldn’t have required so much glamour,” he mutters angrily, pulling himself up another floor.

He makes it over the railing of your balcony, barely winded, and walks to the sliding glass door. It’s closed, and locked. He peers in, eyes narrowed, shielding his face with either hand, but he can’t see you inside. Knocking yields no results either.

Frustrated, Merrick fishes through his pockets for his cell phone, calling Gar, who answers immediately.

“Tell me that you haven’t managed to find trouble,” he pleads, but he sounds jovial as always. He’s fine, then.

“No one is home,” he mutters into the device, wrinkling his nose when the edge of it brushes his face. “Otherwise no.” He thinks about leaning on the balcony railing, watching the people walk by below, but that will draw attention if there’s someone searching via sky. He sits down on the ground, leaning his back against the sliding glass door.

“Then sit tight. Your human will get back and everything will be fine. I’ll check in with you when I get to mine, hm?” Gar mutters something else beneath his breath - an excuse me, perhaps, and then says a hasty goodbye.

His worry over Gar fades fairly quickly. Within the next ten minutes Gar texts him his location, lets him know he still has all his limbs, and then Merrick is left with nothing to do but wait. Eventually he lays down on the cement, pulls his hat over his face, and tries to nap. He doesn’t gain more than a few stray seconds of sleep over the next few hours, but he doesn’t move when he hears your key turn in the lock. In fact, he goes a little limp, relieved to hear you returning and in fairly good spirits.

Better that you see him first, get the surprise of finding him on your balcony out of your system, and then he can lead up to staying with you for a bit.

Without conscious decision on his part, Merrick starts to smile.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #fairy boyfriend #male faerie x reader #monster boyfriend #male fairy x reader #d.darling writes

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jeonggukingdom · 5 years ago

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splinters of love • day XVI [ksj]

pairing ⟶ kim seokjin x fem!Reader

summary ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically ⟶ • day XVI ↳ in which you casually fall asleep on this stranger’s shoulder in the train and he has no idea what to do so he skips his own stop and waits for you to wake up until, crap, you’ve reached the terminal and now you both have to get out and figure out an alternative way to reach your homes.

genre ⟶ fluff

rating ⟶ G

word count ⟶ 2.201 words

warnings ⟶ none except Seokjin being an absolute angel, knight in shining armor, smooth boyfriend material random dude on a bus

series masterlist ⟶ here (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

author’s note ⟶ @cupcake416 I don’t know who your bias is or what your favourite genre is but you mentioned that today was going to be your birthday so I wanted to dedicate this drabble to you regardless to wish you THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY EVER! I hope you’ll like this little story and if I can manage to put even just a little smile on your face I’ll consider myself happy, ah ah ♥

The bus is almost completely packed tonight and you huff as you climb the little stairs to help you inside. You miss the convenience of owning a car and not have to stand for an entire ride after such a long day at work but, alas, you don't own that luxury anymore and you won't for a little while.

Your lips form a little pout as you scan your surroundings and then, your eyes land on the only free spot in the entire bus and your eyes light up as if your eyes had just landed on the biggest treasure ever known to mankind.

With a smile stretched on your coral-tinted lips, you hurry through the corridor and very unceremoniously drop on the empty seat with a victorious grin.

Your cheeks heat up the instant you catch the stranger sitting next to you looking at you, a baffled expression on his features and the hint of a pending chuckle on his plump lips.

You offer him a sheepish smile, retreating inside your shoulders as if in a silent apology for startling him and disrupting his peace.

He gives you a gentle smile in return while shaking his head and then, his eyes shift back on the window to peer outside the busy streets while music plays loudly in his ears.

You exhale loudly, getting as comfortable on the seat as possible and fix your own gaze ahead of you as you usually do to get lost inside your own thoughts.

The stress of the day slowly washes off your body and you relax ever so slightly with each passing second until the motion of the bus turns you drowsy with sleep and then, without you even realising it, your eyes close and with a turn of the bus, your head lands exactly on that poor stranger's shoulder.

Seokjin jumps at the sudden touch, his heart missing a few beats in his chest before turning absolutely rampant. His eyes shift from the glass to you and his mouth opens in bewilderment as he realizes you have fallen asleep just like that and fell on top of him.

He would have woken you up if it weren't for the peaceful expression on your features, for the dark circles under your eyes that he hadn't noticed at first.

He bites his bottom lip unsure of what he's supposed to do, especially considering that his stop is the next one in line and this is the last bus he'll be able to catch tonight in order to go home.

He ponders and ponders and just finds himself unable to do anything about you and the way your entire weight is being supported by his shoulder.

He heaves out a sigh, curses himself under his breath and simply waits for you to wake up. Maybe, if he's lucky enough, you'll wake up soon and he will just walk a few blocks to get home.

Sadly, you do not wake up and minutes tick by and by until you are the only two passengers on the bus.

His heart drops in his chest the instant he feels the bus stop and realizes you have reached the terminal and now he has no choice but to wake you up.

He grimaces but shakes you awake as gently as possible, he offers you a gentle smile as you jump at the sudden contact and look up at him in surprise.

"You fell asleep," he says, barely above a whisper as his cheeks turn a nice shade of pink under your intense gaze.

Your cheeks feel as hot as the sun, instead, shame filling you up to the very core as you jolt backwards apologising over and over again.

"It's ok, it happens," he offers as a consolation but then you watch his eyes fill with doubt, his bottom lip suddenly trapped under his teeth as his eyebrows furrow.

"Oh! I just realised this must be your stop!" You get up in an instant failing to realize the bus is empty and that the driver is looking at the both of you rather unamused by the fact that you are wasting too much of his precious time.

Seokjin gets up then, scratches the back of his head as he shakes it lightly.

"Well that's... uh... we kind of reached the terminal."

"What?!" You finally look around and blood drains from your features as your mouth opens in utter shock, "Wait, why didn't you wake me up sooner?!"

Seokjin's mouth opens and closes, opens and closes as he looks at you completely baffled.

"Well, I didn't want to wake you up! You looked tired and like you needed the rest so I just..."

He seems to become smaller under your gaze and that's when you realize you are being incredibly ungrateful right about now and just as you open your mouth to apologise, the driver decides to chime in and not so kindly ask you to leave the damned bus and figure it out on your own outside his vehicle.

That's how you find yourself standing in the cold night against a stranger with absolutely not a single clue on what to do next.

"I'm Seokjin by the way," he says after a few minutes of very thick and awkward silence.

"Oh, I'm _______," you offer him a smile and your hand and he quickly grabs it which makes your smile deepen a tad bit more.

He seems to be just as lost and uncomfortable as you are as you stand there like two idiots, looking around as if the solution is suddenly going to pop out behind the corner and save you from this awkward and romcom-like situation.

"I'm sorry for yelling earlier I was just taken aback... uhm, thank you, for, well, everything, I guess."

You look at your feet as you say this, torture your fingers as your insides twitch uncomfortably inside of you.

If you could disappear inside the bitumen, you so would.

Seokjin, instead, hums at your words, shifts his weight from left to right while keeping his gaze trained entirely on you.

"So... how far away do you live?"

You close your eyes and heave out a sigh as you think about walking for such a long distance in the middle of the night and with bloody heels on.

"Definitely too far for a walk," you mumble, shaking your head as you start pondering over the idea of calling a cab or a friend to come to your rescue.

"Same," he says, chuckling at the predicament you've both fallen into because of, well, you.

"Maybe we can call someone?" You suggest, finally lifting your gaze to look at him.

"Yeah, uhm, I don't think my friends are going to pick up anytime soon... it's the weekend after all."

You nod your head a couple of times pretty sure that's the case with you as well, not to mention you don't even have an endless list of friends to choose from.

"We could call a cab?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he pushes his hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

"Oh. Well, I don't... uhm."

How do you confess to a stranger that you cannot afford a cab ride that long? You grimace and evidently, he can see it pretty well under the moonlight because without you having to add more, he hums and offers you a meek 'me neither' as a response which, honestly, would have made you chuckle if your heart hadn't just dropped deep within your chest.

"So walking it is," you say then, heaving out a sigh as you finally decide to take the lead and walk away from the stupid terminal.

Seokjin follows suit in silence but this time it's more comfortable and it seems to ease up your nerves. He didn't even ask you where you live exactly, he's just following you blindly so you curiously look up at him trying to decide if you should be worried by it or grateful.

"So," you say after a while, "Your house is in the same direction as mine?"

"Not really," he confesses, making himself small inside his wide shoulders.

"Oh..."

Seokjin stops on his tracks, looks at you for a second and then, realization twists his features into a stupefied expression that prompts a chuckle to escape your lips.

"I'm not following you! I mean, I am but not because... I mean no offence because you can probably take care of yourself just fine but I wouldn't really feel at peace letting you walk home by yourself at this hour of the night."

"You are awfully nice, did anyone ever tell you that?"

Seokjin laughs, his eyes reducing to two adorable half-moons as he does so and soon enough, you are chuckling right along with him, unable to resist his contagious laugh.

That's how it starts.

You find out that talking to Seokjin comes pretty easily, that he is witty and funny and comfortable to be around to and so much so, he feels like someone you've known for most of your life and that have just met after years of being apart.

The only downside to it all is that your legs are killing you, not to even mention your feet. It is when you absolutely can not take it anymore that you stop to take the shoes from hell off of your poor feet and sigh at the sensation of your soles lying flat on the dirty bitumen.

"Oh no, you are so not going to walk with your naked feet! Do you have any idea of the dirt and thousands of germs that live there?!"

"Well, I can't walk in these stupid heels a second longer so this will have to do."

Seokjin shakes his head, sighs deeply and then he crouches down before you, offering you his wide back to hop onto.

"Are you kidding me? You are offering me a piggyback ride right now?"

"Well, doesn't look like I have much of a choice right now, does it?"

He looks at you from behind his back, his eyes pointedly fixed on your features as he urges you to hop on his back already so that he can safely you accompany you back home once and for all.

It's with all the shyness and insecurity of the world that you do this, allow his arms to wrap around your thighs and yours around his neck.

"You really are awfully nice," you whisper in his ear and Seokjin chuckles again, nodding his head because he realizes how absurd this all is and to be honest, he doesn't know himself why he is doing all of this for someone he has barely met but... well, there's just something about you that makes him want to help you and he can't explain it but it's there and he simply cannot ignore it.

You don't know exactly how long has passed since you left the bus' terminal but it might as well been days because that is how tired you are by the time you finally reach your apartment complex and Seokjin frees you from his grasp.

"I don't know how I can possibly repay you for all that you did for me tonight," you say as your feet land on the bitumen and you look up to him, your lips protruded forward into a little pout.

Seokjin smiles then, mirth shining in his black eyes as he tilts his head to the side.

He can't believe himself he is about to say this but, hell, this is probably his only chance so might as well try, no?

"Well, you could give me your number."

You look up to him in surprise, mouth slightly agape at the bold question you would have never expected to fall from his plump lips.

The most shocking part of it, though, is the fact that you don't even need to think about it to know the answer.

Maybe it was destiny that brought you together, maybe it was fate that decided you had to find that empty spot, fall asleep on his shoulder and no one else's. You don't know but a part of you decides to believe that, to take a chance for once in your life and that's how Seokjin ends up with your number registered in his phone and a grateful kiss on his right cheek.

Your hearts beat frantically in your chests as he walks the opposite way to finally reach his house and you run up the stairs that lead you to your apartment.

It takes Seokjin exactly twenty seconds to ring your phone after you turn your back on him and it takes just two for you to eagerly pick up while closing the door behind your back.

It takes Seokjin forty additional minutes to walk himself home while you keep him company by talking to him on the phone.

It takes three hours for you to end the call and close your eyes on this absurd days and well, it turns out that sometimes it takes a lot less than twenty-four hours for two people to fall in love.

#thekimlinenet #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanscenery #ficswithluv #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #bts fluff #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts ff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts react #!splintersoflove

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avatraang · 4 years ago

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Summary: Toph shoves the lilacs into his arms and then takes the letter, putting it in her pouch. “I should pound you into next week for that!”

Sokka nudges her, “But you won’t.” She sends a glare in his general direction.

“What makes you so sure?”

[Somewhere deep in Yu Dao’s marketplace, Sokka discovers an old secret of Toph’s… and of course, doesn’t let her live it down. Written for Tokka Week 2020, Day 3: Knockout. Oneshot.]

Notes: So, this fic is disgustingly fluffy. Like, there isn’t even a HINT of angst or hurt/comfort anywhere. It’s unnatural for my style of writing, but HERE WE ARE. It’s also shorter than almost anything I’ve written recently, which is also unnatural for me. It’s definitely not my fave, but maybe that’s because I like to hurt myself and only write angst xD This fic is absolutely on the shorter, fluffier, and more humorous side… But happy!Tokka is something they deserve, so here it is!!

Written for Tokka Week 2020, Day 3, I decided to stick with the prompt “knockout.” For anyone who’s unaware: Purple lilacs are a symbol of new love. Toph and Sokka are in their late teens/early twenties, here. As per usual, thank you to @cats-and-metersticks for helping me with this fic.

I hope you enjoy!

Preview:

“NO!”

"Sokka, I swear on Oma and Shu-”

"NOOOOO!”

"Sokka!”

Toph fights to keep the laughter out of her voice as Sokka sprints through the streets ahead of her, merchants around them turning to stare as he dives through carts and over toddlers. She really should be angry – he did, after all, just run off with a letter Zuko had written to her – but it’s so ridiculous that Toph decides to just feign annoyance later. She can sense his footsteps loud and clear; he’s heading for the busiest part of the market. Toph picks up her pace, wanting to catch him before he gets there.

Even as she sprints, she smiles to herself. He’s smart. He knows she won’t earthbend in such a populated, crowded area. While her skills are immaculate, the people surrounding her aren’t, and who knows who might get caught in the crossfire. Toph has never been a particularly empathetic person, but even she doesn’t like the idea of anyone who doesn’t deserve it getting hurt due to her earthbending.

“Sokka!” Toph tries again. In front of her, she hears him yelp. There’s a crash. Toph senses a splintered cart in front of her, as well as something round rolling past her. She’s careful to avoid it, hearing the merchant screech as she passes-

“MY CABBAGES!”

Toph winces. “Find me at the Beifong Metalbending Academy, I’ll reimburse you!”

Her body twists to avoid a five year old who’s absolutely devouring a tub of rice. Inwardly cursing the sheer size of Yu Dao and its marketplace, Toph hears Sokka let out a whoop as he rounds a corner, successfully entering the busiest part of the small city. Mothefucker. She’s intent on not losing him. So intent, in fact, that Toph walks right into a wall of flowers, almost knocking herself out.

“Hey!” The merchant cries. Her voice is surprisingly deep for a florist. Toph is jealous of her baritone. “You ruined my only purple lilacs!” The woman cocks her hip to the side, narrowing her eyes in annoyance.

Struggling to get on her feet, Toph brushes the sweat from her forehead. Her bangs are clear of her eyes for a split second, and the merchant stills. “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am! Forgive me, I didn’t know you were blind.”

Toph admires the lady for not beating around the proverbial bush. “Sorry about that. How much are they?”

"Don’t worry about-”

"How much are they?”

Begrudgingly, the merchant gives in. Toph digs into her pouch and hands the money over. It’s then that the woman’s heart rate spikes. As Toph hands her the cash, the lady says, “you’re a… you’re a Beifong?”

"What gave it away?”

"Your wallet has a flying boar on it.” She wraps up the lilacs.

"It does?” Toph places the wallet back into her pouch. “Huh.”

"You’re Toph Beifong, aren’t you?” The woman hands Toph the beat up flowers. “You’re Toph Beifong, and I’m an idiot.”

Toph laughs, loudly. “Don’t sweat it. I like you. And your flowers, even though they almost knocked me out. Come by the academy on Monday. Maybe you can become my new florist.”

With that, Toph wanders off, putting her attention back into finding Sokka. With each slow step, she scans the crowd for him, frustrated by the sheer density of people shopping on a Friday evening. She’s beginning to think she’ll never find him, until just at the edge of her ‘vision,’ Toph senses the tell-tale gait that is her best friend. He’s standing, quietly, by a particularly busy stand.

His slight limp, his long legs, his steps that are the perfect in-between of grounded and flighty. His heartbeat, quick (at the moment) and strong (as always). She grins to herself, the flowers tucked into her right arm as she treks towards Sokka. Judging by his relaxed posture, he hasn’t seen her yet. She wonders if she can sneak up on him quietly enough to grab what he’s stolen from her. Toph is beginning to think she’ll be successful, when Sokka’s heart suddenly accelerates.

"Toph!” he cries, barreling towards her. It’s in complete contrast to earlier, when he’d screamed and ran away. She sighs; he must have read the letter already. If he hadn’t, he would still be running away from her.

"Give me my letter!” she demands, pushing him away. Sokka lets out a yelp as she shoves him, but he does what she asks.

Toph shoves the lilacs into his arms and then takes the letter, putting it in her pouch. “I should pound you into next week for that!”

But they both know if anyone can talk Toph out of anything, it is Sokka.

"You should,” Sokka nudges her, “but you won’t.” She sends a glare in his general direction.

"What makes you so sure?”

Click Here To Continue Reading.

#tokka week 2020 #tokka #tokka fanfic #toph beifong #sokka #toph #my fanfiction #my writing #atla #avatar the last airbender #this is so DISGUSTINGLY fluffy #i didn't even know i was capable #but here we are

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animetrashlord-007 · 4 years ago

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M.I;; Chapter Five

Word Count;; 2k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them boys engage in questionable bedroom activities.

Published;; 04.28.18

Notes;;

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

“Harder, Kuroo-san!”

“Do you like that, Koushi? You're such a bad boy, aren't you? Begging for me like this… how pathetic.”

Upon hearing the exchange, Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks. He recognised the voices of his two group partners straightaway, but they were meant to be studying, not engaging in… whatever the hell they were doing. The small moans and light panting that filtered out into the hall made his stomach churn. It wasn’t any of his business what the two got up to in private as long as it remained there, not in his damn dorm room. His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, teetering on the edge of a very inappropriate gutter (but how could it not? There was no mistaking the sound of flesh hitting flesh and it could only mean so many things), as he listened to their whispered words. He hesitated at the threshold. He didn’t want to enter and witness their transgression but he had to give them a piece of his mind - there was no way he would let their blatant audacity slide.

Summoning his fiercest bitch face, he slammed the door open and flipped the light switch. His eyebrow twitched when he took in the state of the room. Sugawara’s side of the dorm was a disgrace. The once spotless floor was covered in loose sheets of paper and his bedding was beginning to slide off. Oikawa was grateful to see his side remained untouched, though his brief respite disappeared just as quick as it came once his eyes landed on the two people responsible for his rising stress levels.

With the comforter thrown over his shoulders, Kuroo hovered behind Suga, one hand on the smaller male’s waist with his other pulled back and ready to smack the soft underside of Suga’s ass. He tossed his head backward and flashed Oikawa his usual grin, his eyes shining with unspoken mischievous. While Oikawa couldn’t see the setter beneath Kuroo’s larger frame, there was no mistaking his lewd whimpers and pleas, begging for him to continue, begging for more. Not bothering to hide or cover up their act of indecency, the blocker brought his hand down against Suga’s skin, not once breaking eye contact with Oikawa. The slap echoed throughout the small space, and still their eyes remained locked. Oikawa’s face contorted into a grimace; he could almost feel the sting.

It was Kuroo’s lazy grin and airy chuckle that pulled him from his daze. Oikawa’s chocolate locks bounced around his reddening ears once he managed to tear his eyes away, focusing on finding the light switch once more and plunging the room into the safety of darkness. Embarrassment nipped at his nerves, his cheeks flushing and his fingers trembling. It had been a long time since he had wasted his time thinking about carnal desires but now he couldn’t think of anything else. Dating had always been a bit of a bore and a pain in the arse but it did have its benefits, yet clearly one could get those same perks without all the hassle. He could be casual about it, discreet, it wouldn’t affect his schooling if he went about it the right way.

He clenched his fists and shook his head, his irritation returning tenfold, all traces of his fleeting moment of weakness replaced with a glower as he spat, “What the hell are you two doing?!”

“Oikawa-san! Back already?”

“Obviously!”

“Don't just stand there, come in. Might as well get comfortable.”

“What? As if! Not until you get out, deviant!”

“Hey now, I'm a guest here. You should be nice.”

“You’re an unwelcome guest! Take a hint already!”

“You wound me!”

“Oikawa-san, I’m sorry, we lost track of time. I didn’t want you to see this.”

“Well I should hope not!”

“Calm down, princess.”

“Would you remove yourself from my life permanently?”

“Aww, I love you too, baby.”

“Cut it out, Kuroo-san, you’re making it worse,” the words were whispered but Oikawa managed to catch them before they were consumed by the darkness. “Just wait outside for a few minutes, we’ll clean up.”

“Or you can join in. I don’t mind. We’ll probably be awhile,” Kuroo’s chortle was cut short, transforming into a pained gasp as Suga elbowed him in the stomach. “What? We might as well finish up. He already found out.”

“Seriously?! You two have no shame!”

It was a miracle the frame didn’t splinter with how hard Oikawa slammed the door shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he basked in the serenity of the silent hallway. It was late enough that the lights were dimmed, adding to the ambience. Deciding to forget all about the events of this cursed day and get some much needed rest, he scurried down the hall toward the one place he knew would have an empty bed: the shared dorm of Kuroo and Ushijima. He never thought the day would come where he would find himself seeking out that damn mountain of awkwardness for refuge. The things he had been reduced to… He despised college.

Fervent footsteps. Vehement knocking. Desperate heartbeat. The sound of his knuckles against the door could only be described as pathetic. He never once paused, instead increasing the speed and force of every hit with each repetition, rapping against the wood with reckless abandon. He refused to stop until he gained access, regardless of whether or not Ushijima was asleep yet. His mind was a jumble and he could feel a migraine coming on and the fact that he had morning classes tomorrow made matters at least 110% worse. He didn’t have the time nor the patience to be considerate. Besides, it was just Bakatoshi. It didn’t really matter if he was inconvenienced.

The message was received loud and clear, the door creaking open after a mere thirty seconds of incessant knocking. Faint light spilled into the hallway from a small lamp somewhere on Ushijima’s side of the room, illuminating the silhouette lurking on the other side of the door. The familiar sight of short, olive-brown hair peered at Oikawa, one of his large hands reaching out of the shadows to rub at his tired eyes. His voice was a mixture of confusion and weariness as he spoke.

“What’s wrong, Oikawa-san?”

“Just let me in.”

“Wait, I need to-”

Oikawa slipped passed the bewildered ace, forcing his way inside. His eyes darted to and fro, absorbing the details and minute changes that had occurred since his last visit. Kuroo’s bed wasn’t quite made but still presentable; it lacked a single piece of trash or note paper on the crumpled, bumpy duvet and, by some miracle, none of his laundry was in sight. It was nowhere near as immaculate as his own room, or even Ushijima’s side of the room, but it was a huge improvement and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a (miniscule) surge of pride. Perhaps there was still hope for that idiot, after all.

Turning back to the doorway with every intention to inform Ushijima of the scandalous activities occurring inside the sanctity of his room, Oikawa’s words caught in his throat when he took in his appearance. Ushijima donned just a simple pair of snug, black boxers which hugged him in all the right places. His body, though relaxed from his brief slumber, was firm. Every single muscle. His entire body looked sculpted. From his toned calves to his thick thighs, to his defined abs and broad shoulders, and even to his damn biceps, the man was built like a God pulled straight from a myth.

What the hell was he thinking? His mind was the ultimate traitor, offering a detailed image of how round Ushijima’s arse would look right now in those tight boxers. He tried to think of anything else, but his thoughts kept returning to it until a voice in the back of his head stated the obvious, that he could just walk over and settle this train of thought with a single glance, with a full-body onceover where his eyes devoured Ushijima’s figure like the five course meal that he was. Why stop there? Might as well enjoy yourself and cop a feel, too.

Cold palms chilled his heated cheeks as his hands collided with his face. It was the best idea he could manage on the spot to snap him out of this ludicrous fantasy. This wasn’t like him. No, this was their influence. Those two weirdos that were ruining not only his night, but aiming to take the prize and ruin his whole life. These thoughts weren’t his own. He hated Bakatoshi. Even if the guy looked delectable right now, waiting to be pounced on and-

“Seriously?” Oikawa snapped, letting his pent up frustration loose and praying for any type of distraction, “You couldn’t put some pants on?”

“I didn’t have time-”

“Save it for someone that cares. I’m sleeping in Kuroo’s bed tonight.”

Ushijima’s exhaustion was evident in his simple nod. His feet were heavy and audible as he crossed the room, sliding back under the covers and closing his eyes without a sound. Oikawa was grateful that Ushijima couldn’t read his mind, and that he didn’t notice his intense gaze, or if he had, he had the decency not to comment on it.

On approaching his chosen bed, all prior pride and the glimmer of hope he once held for Kuroo dissipated once he pulled the duvet down. The lumps hidden from view were not misshapen sheets but rather clothing, more than likely dirty, and the sheets themselves were nowhere in sight. Not even the fitted sheet remained on the bed, the mattress exposed and cold to the touch.

The guttural growl that crawled from the pits of his stomach and reverberated throughout the enclosed space was enough to jolt Ushijima awake once more. He watched with wide eyes as Oikawa stormed across the room, stopping at the edge of the bed, tables turned for once as he towered over him. Oikawa tapped his foot in impatience, irritation rolling off him in waves, seconds that felt like hours passing in uncomfortable silence until Ushijima spoke up and questioned the setter’s sudden mood swing.

“Shut up and move, I’m sleeping here tonight.”

With another knowing nod and small yawn, Ushijima scooted to the far side of the large bed. It was bigger than the standard and Oikawa thought it was a bit extra when he first saw it, but it looked comfy and he almost felt excited to try it for himself. Except there was an obstacle in his path that was blocking the road to bliss and sweet dreams - the current occupant who was patting the empty space he created beside his shirtless self, beckoning Oikawa like it was the most normal thing to do.

“What are you…? no. No, no, no. You move, go. Get out, I need this bed. You sleep somewhere else, anywhere else.”

“Why? It’s big enough for us both.”

“Why? Why? What kind of question is that? Do you think you’re smooth? I see right through you, Bakatoshi.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Ushijima tilted his head in confusion, which only served to further irritate Oikawa. “I’m not going to sleep with you!”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I'm so sick of all this weird sex tonight! I just want to sleep in peace, why are you all like this? Can’t any of-”

“Oikawa-san.”

“-you be normal for once? What evil deed did I commit in a past life to be stuck with you-”

“Oikawa-san.”

“-three idiots cursing my existence for the rest of my foreseeable future? I just-”

“Tooru.”

Oikawa scoffed, rolling his eyes and taking a deep breath, his outburst fading, “That’s Oikawa-san to you, we’re not friends,”

With a sigh, Ushijima rolled out of the bed and walked across the room. It was obvious that Oikawa was stressed and sleep deprived, college life taking its toll, but Ushijima wasn’t faring much better and the statement felt like a blow to the gut. His words shouldn’t have offended him, Oikawa has said worse after all, but he thought they had been making progress. He collapsed onto the messy mattress, willing the empty feeling in his stomach away with the promise to try harder tomorrow before falling into a fast but deep slumber, leaving Oikawa to find peace amongst his restless thoughts.

#oikawa x ushijima #ushijima x oikawa #ushioi #oiushi #sugawara x kuroo #suga x kuroo #kuroo x suga #kuroo x sugawara #haikyuu fanfiction #hq #hq fanfic #hq fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #anime #anime fanfic

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shootingcookielover · 5 years ago

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So I wrote this based on this prompt from @transformationloveb

I hope it makes sense and isn't too bad

Warnings

Uhm. I honestly don't know what to put here, please help? I don't thin kthere's anything too bad in this?? Maybe there is and I've just become de-sensitized

Characters

Mostly Roman and Deceit, but Patton, Virgil and Thomas show up too, Logan is there as well, but he doesn't say anything, Remus appears too and gets mentioned sometimes

Roceit

“Would you please love me when I don’t love myself?”

The request had been made in the middle of another all-nighter, with Thomas running on several cups of coffee and a headache.

Roman had looked as disheveled as all the others did, sash missing, hair ruffled, clothes wrinkled.

He could barely stand upright, using the doorframe to keep from falling.

His eyes were dull.

Janus didn’t fare much better at the moment; none of the sides did. His hat sat askew, his capelet was rumpled and his shirt was only partially closed.

He rubbed the scales on his face; they felt dry and itchy, a consequence of Thomas’ horrible sleeping habits.

That night there was no answer given, however, as Thomas finally fell asleep on the couch, his TV still going.

There were precisely four knocks on Roman’s door the next day.

He mumbled into his pillow without answering.

For a while the creative side thought whoever had been at his door left. He’d already slipped back into a half-sleep kind of doze.

Then the four knocks repeated.

Roman huffed in annoyance as he rolled over, sun light from the imagination hitting his face.

He really had to work on that, he thought, as he pulled one arm up to cover his face.

Another four knocks.

The creative side groaned. “I’m asleep!”, he yelled at the door.

“How sad. Then I’ll just come back another time.”, the voice was dampened by the double doors, but still understandable.

The arm fell of Roman’s face as he snapped into a sitting position.

The door handle rattled, as the door was pushed open.

“Deceit!”

The snake-like side raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m afraid it’s Remus.”, he replied, stepping into the room.

He closed the door behind himself, while Roman struggled to get out of his bed. The blanket had wrapped around him quite unfortunately, so he ended up in a crumpled mess on the floor.

Deceit snorted in amusement.

The creative side finally managed to get out of the blanket heap, his hand wrapping around the handle of a sword that hadn’t previously existed.

He pointed it at the lying side, eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Jack the Fibber?”

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to inquire what you’re little… proposal means?”

Roman’s eyes widened and his sword sunk a bit.

He quickly regained control of himself, raising the sword once more. “That wasn’t a ‘proposal’! It was a simple jest that you fell for!”

The snake looked unimpressed. “Ah. I assume this ‘jest’ is the reason for your…”, one gloved finger poked at the blade turned towards him. “…completely normal reaction.”

Roman huffed. “Why you-! This is an entirely acceptable reaction to a villain such as yourself entering my room without permission!”

Deceit took a step back, as Roman started to wave his sword around, instead of making his usual hand gestures.

“Of course. That must be why you’re in tears laughing at me, for falling for your little joke.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His eyes strayed from the snake for a second, but he was quick to snap them back on the fiend. He couldn’t let the bad guy out of his sight.

“Face it, Roman. You can’t lie to me.”

The smirk on the snake’s face made Roman grit his teeth. “So?”, he managed to get out, “What of it?”

“Well, if you’re still up for the original terms, I would accept your request. For Thomas’ sake you need to be in good shape.”

The creative side… honestly hadn’t expected that. His sword wavered.

“You… what?”

The snake sighed. “I accept your request, Roman. ‘To love you when you cannot’?”

“…you love me?”

Deceit rolled his eyes once more. Annoyed, he pushed the sword aside, stepping closer towards Roman.

There was a smirk playing on his lips now, as he leaned in close.

Roman realized that Deceit was slightly shorter than him.

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend to. That’s why you came to me, not your precious famILY, isn’t it?”, his voice was smooth, warm honey, sweet and alluring.

Roman’s breath hitched as he felt gloved fingers curl against his cheek.

“All you need to do is say ‘yes’.”

Deceit’s face was so close to Roman’s, he could feel the warm puffs of breath against his skin. Against his lips.

Deceit’s scales glittered a beautiful shade of emerald green in the sun light from the imagination. The snake eye didn’t look sickly yellow anymore, the light bouncing off it gave it a richer, much more pretty shade.

Roman knew he shouldn’t even contemplate agreeing to this. Deceit was a dark side, he was lies and selfishness and evil.

…

But he’d thought the same of Virgil, once. Had rejected the anxious side, pushed him aside.

When he really was an integral part of Thomas. Not evil or destructive.

A protector.

A stronger side would have been able to reject the snake; see the flaws in the proposed arrangement.

Roman had never been strong; he’d only ever pretended to be and, well.

Deceit would see right through him, wouldn’t he?

Their arrangement worked surprisingly well. Roman had always been an expert at lying to himself and the snake was obviously quite good at pretending as well.

It wasn’t hard to fool himself into thinking Deceit actually cared.

That the nights spent together meant something; that the quiet late-night strolls weren’t just make-believe; that Deceit actually wanted to marathon Disney-movies with him.

That the quiet mornings with chaste kisses and murmured conversations weren’t just a lie.

The only problem with that was that Roman was the romantic side.

He realized the depth of this problem when he awoke one morning to Deceit in his arms. The snake was practically on top of him, still asleep.

His face was turned so that his scales were visible.

Roman found his hand reaching up and tracing the scales thoughtlessly, a small smile on his lips.

He almost let out a surprised giggle when Deceit’s forked tongue flicked outwards, as if to taste the air.

The creative side repeated the movements he’d done before and this time really did let out a quiet chuckle as the side in his arms bleped once more.

Deceit was adorable.

…

Roman’s eyes widened. His heart started beating faster in his chest. His face almost burned with the blush following his realization.

He had fallen for the snake-like side.

His first instinct was to shake Deceit awake and tell him – but Roman stopped himself.

There was no way the other side would keep up their arrangement if he admitted the lies had gotten to him. Roman wouldn’t be able to let him, anyway.

Wouldn’t be able to bear the lies he was told, knowing full-well they were lies, while his heart ached for them to be true.

With this truth spilling from his lips he wouldn’t be able to keep up the façade.

He just had to keep quiet; pretend there was nothing wrong. Then this could keep going.

This would continue to be as wonderful as it was.

Shortly after Roman had decided what to do, Deceit blearily opened his eyes.

The creative side smiled at the snake-like one, as he raised his body temperature ever-so-slightly.

Deceit sighed contentedly and snuggled closer, his tongue flicking out again. “Morning.”, he mumbled.

“Good morning.”

As long as Roman didn’t say anything, things could go on like this forever. Perfect. Fake.

Roman had been wrong. Of course he had been. He was always wrong.

Despite Deceit’s lies reassurances, that fact was blatantly obvious.

Of course things couldn’t go on like that forever. ‘Happily ever after’s didn’t exist outside of the fairy tales Roman loved to pretend he was a part of. None of the arrangement constituted a ‘happily ever after’, it was nothing but lies and make-believe.

They’d grown too comfortable, too secure in their secret meet-ups.

Roman had dropped one too-many hints for Deceit; just wishing to spend time with the other side. Truth be told ha! Roman had simply craved the lying side’s touch, he hadn’t even felt all that bad today.

He’d abused the arrangement, broken the deal, and of course the punishment was immediate.

“What are you doing?!”

Roman immediately shoved Deceit off of himself, standing up from where he’d been half-lying on the bed.

The snake-like side almost tumbled to the ground, but managed to catch his balance before that happened.

He straightened his capelet with a huff and conjured his hat with a flick of his wrist, to set it back on his hair.

Virgil’s eyes were wide, his eye-shadow bleeding down his face like black tears.

Roman raked a hand through his hair, trying to get it in some sort of order. “I- Virgil- this isn’t-!”, the words seemed to allude the creative side and Deceit quickly took over.

“I assure you, Virgil, this is exactly what it looks like.”, the smirk was back in place; it looked so much sharper than the expressions Deceit wore around Roman.

The anxious side leaned back, eyes flickering from Roman to Deceit, disbelief pouring from his body language.

“Roman what the fuck?!”

The creative side didn’t feel very creative at the moment. He glanced at Deceit who didn’t bother looking in his direction.

That hurt. Why had he let this go on for so long?

“I- I didn’t-“, why was talking so hard?! Roman wished he could have wrote down what he was going to say beforehand, but he hadn’t thought of that. He’d been an idiot.

Again.

Deceit gave him a pat on the head.

Confusion intermingled with the panic. He looked towards the lying side who only moved past Roman, towards the door. The creative side wanted to reach out and pull him back.

But Deceit wouldn’t want that.

Deceit was only lying.

He didn’t really care.

The lies came crashing down around Roman, breaking and splintering the wonderful illusion he’d lived in for so long.

“It appears that I’m no longer needed. Goodbye, Roman.”, the lying side gave him a wave.

Deceit sunk out.

The creative side stared at the spot where the snake had disappeared.

“What did he tell you?”

Harsh, quick steps approached him.

Roman glanced up to see Virgil much closer than the creative side was truly comfortable with.

“I- I don’t…”

Virgil sighed. He rubbed his face, right where the eyeshadow resided. It was almost covering the entire lower half of his face.

Roman idly wondered if it hurt or itched or was generally uncomfortable.

“Whatever-“, the anxious side cleared his throat. “Whatever it was; it was a lie.”

“I…”

The sympathetic look in Virgil’s eyes hurt.

“I know how good he is at… pretending to care for you.”

Roman was pulled into a hug.

Virgil hated hugs; was uncomfortable with most kinds of touch. Roman should feel honored to be on the receiving end of it.

That he didn’t was just more proof of his idiocy.

Virgil agreed to keep the… incident under wraps. Neither Patton or Logan caught wind of it; though they did notice Roman’s mood dropping.

The sudden realization that everything was a lie, left the creative side feeling…

Unsparkly.

Of course he’d known it were lies and an elaborate game of pretend but…

Well.

He wanted to continue the arrangement; it hadn’t been ended, after all, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to drop a hint. Couldn’t bring himself to leave his room with no sash.

It would just make him feel worse to be surrounded by fake love, wouldn’t it?

Roman had thought it was better than receiving no love.

Now, though, he was receiving more attention from his fellow sides.

Well, from Virgil. And Patton. No doubt because Virgil had dropped hints when he was with the fatherly side.

It made Roman feel horrible for worrying Patton. For taking up Virgil’s time.

He’d already made the anxious side’s life hell once. He didn’t need to do it again.

It was the entire reason he’d sought out Deceit in the first place, instead of asking anyone else.

It would make him feel horrible to worry the others.

Why was he so selfish?

The callback was a miracle wrapped in a golden opportunity. It was heaven on earth, the taste of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies and the feeling of waking up aside someone who loves you.

The wedding felt like a punishment, like the walk up to the guillotine or the blade falling down to cut off your head.

The comparison made him shudder; it was so similar to something Remus would say.

The trial made Roman feel even more conflicted than he already did.

With Deceit throwing compliments his way every chance he got, Roman’s head spun. He was confused.

But none of it was truth, he knew that, deep down he knew that.

And this time, other than before, he wasn’t alone. The others were there.

Sides stronger than him, aiding him in his decision making.

“One day at the St. Clifford’s chapel on the day of Lee and Marry Lee’s wedding!”

For the first time since Virgil had found them in Roman’s room, Roman left out a clue.

He neglected to wear his sash to dinner that evening.

When Deceit and Remus swooped in to collect their food, he knew the snake-like side saw it.

The others didn’t.

“I thought our arrangement had met an end, truth be told.”

Roman sighed. He rubbed his temples.

“I just…”, his eyes moved up and met Deceit’s. “don’t feel very much love for myself at the moment.”

The snake-like side inclined his head. His arms spread wide.

Roman took the invitation and hugged the lying side.

Then Remus showed up. He knocked Roman out for almost an entire episode.

He had his own theme song.

It made Roman feel even less needed than before. The others had gotten through one episode without him.

Surely they could get through others without needing the creative side’s input.

Roman didn’t wear his sash to dinner that night.

Remus joined them at the table for the first time in years.

Nobody invited him to sit; nobody necessarily wanted him there. He just conjured himself what Roman assumed was a chair and sat down with the others.

He giggled and laughed and threw around uncomfortable ideas.

Every now and again he tried to kick off their usual banter; the way they’d talk in the imagination, but…

Roman wasn’t feeling it.

He barely talked throughout dinner.

“You let him out because of me, didn’t you?”

The snake didn’t have to ask who Roman was talking about.

“Contrary to popular belief I can totally control what Thomas knows and what he doesn’t. It absolutely isn’t Thomas’ will whether he wants to face the lies he’s told himself or not.”

“Why would I believe you, snake?”

For a second, Roman thought he saw hurt flit across the other side’s face. But surely that must have been his imagination, he was projecting.

The constant distrust running through him was exhausting, but voicing it hurt. Openly admitting it, made everything they’d had so much less… real. So much more fake.

It hadn’t been real from the beginning, he knew that, but that was beside the point.

This was the perfect opportunity.

The perfect opportunity to finally get rid of Roman, to stop the arrangement altogether.

It was messing with Janus’ head, made his thoughts muddled when he thought of Roman and his heart beat faster, for some reason.

Even as he squared his shoulders and set that smirk back on his face, he didn’t want to, he felt everything inside him scream to stop.

But he couldn’t risk whatever was happening to him.

Seeing the harsh smirk directed at Roman felt worse than he could‘ve imagined.

His breath caught in his throat, tears stung at the edges of his eyes that he willed away.

“I didn’t think you would. You always had a habit of seeing through my lies.”

There was a short pause. Roman was confused by the statement, until the snake continued.

“Oh, wait. You didn’t. You fell for them all.”

Deceit reached out, a gloved hand against Roman’s cheek. The creative side couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

It had been so long.

“Even now you eat them up like the gullible, little sheep you are.”

Roman pushed the other side’s hand away, pain erupting in his chest.

“I thought we had an arrangement!”, the creative side said. He could feel his fingers twitch, aching to wrap around a grounding sword handle.

The snake’s expression turned cruel. “The arrangement is off.”

He turned to leave.

Roman couldn’t help himself this time, couldn’t stop his selfish nature to rear it’s head. His hand shot forward to wrap around Deceit’s wrist, stopping the other side.

He turned his head, the sneer on it only stoking the flames of pain in Roman’s chest.

“But…”, he choked on his own words. “After everything… it was just a lie, wasn’t it?”

Deceit quirked an eyebrow up, face incredulous and it hurt, it hurt so much.

“That was the agreement, yes.”

Feeling like he couldn’t breath, Roman let go of Deceit’s wrist.

Just in time for the doors to be pushed open.

Patton was standing in the doorway, silent tears running down his face.

“P- padre…”, Roman’s bewilderment almost overpowered the break in his core. Lie. “What are you doing here? Since when have you been there?”

“Long enough.”, Patton replied. He trudged forward, standing in-between Roman and Deceit. His eyes held a fierce glare.

“You better leave, Deceit. Before Virgil finds out what you did.”

The snake looked the fatherly side over. He sent Roman one last look, then, with the slow incline of head, he sunk out.

Apparently posts have a limitation, didn’t know that, so...

here’s part 2

#sanders sides #fanfiction #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #part 1

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dragonstoravens · 4 years ago

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Babylon Vol. 1: I’m an Idiot but At Least I’m Fun

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

BIG CW for this one: Blood, mild body horror.

(Totally ran out of time to post this yesterday, so here we are a day late again! For the 2/3 people that actually see this on tumblr lol. Just one chapter, and not a mega long one, but be safe while reading and feel free to message me for a summary or sections to skip if you’re worried about the content warnings. Hope you enjoy!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

16. I’m An Idiot But At Least I’m Fun

There was a steady dripping from the edge of the table she sat on. Azure sighed and then held her breath, digging the scalpel into her arm once more. She’d missed the intended node once already, and this was getting a little dicey. It crossed her mind that she really should consider an assistant for when she did her more complex updates, but then she’d have to deal with their concern for her wellbeing and that really only ever did more harm than good for her efficiency. A twinge of pain shot up from her elbow, and she reached behind her to carelessly flip a switch on a box wired to her ankle by about four yards of copper wire. The pain subsided, and she set the scalpel down in exchange for a pair of forceps. Time to dig. The dripping continued, blood running onto the ground and towards her workshop drain. She paid it no mind. She’d eat a cookie later.

But still, something burned at the back of her mind. She looked at the clock on her monitor, brow furrowed as she wiped a bloody gloved hand on her shirt. She was forgetting something. The faulty node was still blinking beneath all the blood, taunting her. Suddenly, a spurt of blood crossed the room, and some wiring escaped her arm, snaking slowly out of her open incision. She grit her teeth. That was never a fun feeling, blood-warmed metal exiting her body. “Fuck, oh, goddamn it-” Another spurt of blood, this one dripping down her arm and to the ground even though she had her free hand clamped around it. She grumbled low in her throat, words coming through the forceps she now held between her teeth. “Sonofabitch, I swear everytime I try-”

“Bluemom, You have a visitor.” Her floating personal assistant bot, Bean, hovered over to her, his front display reading out her current rate of blood loss and the time. “He had an appointment.”

“I don’t recall my brother or Turq or even Smalls needin’ appointments to see me. Just send ‘im in, whoever he is he’s seen worse I’m sure.” She waved the bot off and he hovered away, whistling his customary exit tune. She used the hand on her currently bleeding arm to open a drawer and rummage through its contents. “Gauze, gauze, gauze….”

The door slid open, and a voice, not that of any of her shipmates and yet all too familiar, said, “Jesus.”

“Your Three O’Clock is here!” Chirped Bean. “Trinity Jericho has arrived.”

She looked up to see Trinity standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. She could practically see the loading screen behind his eyes as his brain searched its databanks for an appropriate reaction or facial expression in response to the bizarre scene in front of him.

She was a mess, blood running down her arm and all over her white tank top, a spare coil of fine wire hanging around the shell of her ear. A strange contraption was slithering its way out of her wound, the inside of her elbow flayed open. She’d have blushed in embarrassment, but she couldn’t really spare the blood, so she settled on smiling sheepishly. “Oh, uh, hey?” More blood, this time escaping her fingers and splattering weakly at her feet. “...I’ve got gloves in that drawer right there behind you, would you mind helpin’ me for a quick sec? My hands are occupied right now.” Her tone was conversational, as though she was asking him to grab something from a fridge as opposed to putting on gloves to shove wires back up into her bicep. She continued using her lacerated arm to dig for gauze, blood dripping from her elbow and onto her bare feet.

Rather than figure out how to react, it looked like Trinity had decided not to react at all. His face was exceedingly casual, save for his slightly raised eyebrows, as he went over to the desk and removed the gloves, pulling them on. “Should I even ask?”

Something between a human laugh and a pig snort left her mouth. “Only if it’s necessary. I think I just nicked a vein. I’m more concerned with these connectors, they’re not supposed to be connected this loosely, which means they really shouldn’t be hangin’ out my arm like a hound dog out a pickup truck window.”

“Just nicked a vein,” Trinity mimicked, affecting a higher pitched southern drawl that combined with the slight disbelieving tone to his voice. “Ok. Ok, you’re completely insane, and probably only partially from blood loss. Now, tell me what to do.” He turned his attention to the wires, examining them closely with an expression that rivaled his focus when looking at a particularly interesting problem in one of his own production lines. “I think I see the basics of what’s going on here, but you’d know best.”

“It’s just the coolin’ lines, they kinda just gotta be-Oh!” She pulled a roll of gauze and some medigel from the drawer she’d been digging in. “Found ‘em.” She looked back up at him, arm stretched out, still applying pressure. “I’m not insane until I lose a full liter, by the way. We’re not even a quarter of the way there. They’re just coolin’ lines, you can just shove ‘em back in. I’d have done it already if I didn’t need to keep my blood in my body.” The cooling lines glowed a faint purple and continued to slowly snake their way out. She beheld her own mess with interest for a moment, puzzling something out. “Wonder if I could…”

“Let’s save that little curiosity journey for later, yes?” he interrupted, just the slightest hint of panic creeping into his tone that stopped short whatever she’d been about to come up with. “Maybe best to explore all the other experiments you could run on yourself when you’re not already bleeding all over the floor.” He started pushing the wires back into her arm, probably more gently than she would have done herself. “And, for the record, you’re insane with all your blood in your body. But I’m sure you know that already.”

“It’s what makes me fun!” Her irreverence for her own safety could almost be seen as endearing, if it wasn’t so dangerous. She grabbed a spray bottle marked ‘alcohol’ in big red letters, a roll of duct tape on her wrist. “Here, put pressure on it once it’s all in there, I’ll secure it back down later. Musculature will hold it for now.” She put the spray top of the bottle of alcohol between her teeth and bit down, twisting to remove it and dumping some of the contents over the open wound, no sign of a grimace. “Quickly dude, or we’re gonna be covered in blood. My heart’s still beatin’. God this would be so much easier if my limbs were detachable.”

Trinity almost said wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been covered in blood, or detachable limbs are another thing we don’t want to explore right now, but he was a little too busy to worry about snappy comebacks. He got some disinfectant a little more directly to the wound by covering a bandage in medigel, and set to work sealing the edges together temporarily with glue that he knew should work like stitches. The alcohol had luckily done the double job of cleaning away the excess blood, so all he had to do was swipe away the fresh blood that had just welled from it with a piece of gauze and apply the bandage. On top of it he folded a few more pieces of gauze for extra pressure, and he secured the whole thing with medical tape. It was quick, but rather well done for a rush job nonetheless. Azzy blinked at the result.

“Oh, I was gonna slam some gauze and medigel in there and throw some duct tape over it but that works too.”

“I know that’s what you were going to do, which is exactly why I didn’t do it. Might as well make use of an extra pair of hands.” Said hands, though gloved, were a bit of a bloody mess now, and he walked over to a sink with a bin for biohazard disposal to clean up. “Luckily I know something about cybernetics and first aid. I know you do too.” Unspoken was the implication that not everyone did-- that most people would probably freeze up or panic at such a sight. Beneath even that lay certainty that she did this often. Despite his jokes about her being insane, she’d been perfectly calm. This maybe wasn’t how all her repairs went, with the blood and all, but it wasn’t a surprise, either. He thought maybe that should scare him, but instead he simply accepted it as fact. What else could he do?

“Can’t see how it matters too much, can’t avoid the scarrin’ anyway. Thanks, though.” she looked up at him with that same lopsided smile before bending her arm a couple times. “I forgot you were comin’, lemme get this shit cleaned up and we’ll get that maintenance outta the way.”

He shrugged as he finished washing his own hands and disposing of the gloves, and started to help her clean up. “Scars, those don’t matter. Everyone has them, visible or not, you don’t make it far in life without them. But in this kind of world… I think you might as well save yourself a little pain and danger any time you have the chance.” There was an honesty in his voice that drew her attention, but he was facing away from her. He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned with a crooked grin. “So, what nefarious plans do you have for my eye today?”

She was already across the room in front of a pair of doors, arms crossed over her front to pull her shirt up and over her head. She was facing away from him, her back tan and striped with thin white scars all the way up her spine, ending in one final splintering burst at the base of her neck. Barely visible at this distance was the white ink tattooed across her back to make the whole mess look like a dandelion puff. The shirt fell to the ground with a wet flop as she hit a button to open a closet full of more white tank tops, these ones pristine. Her hands were clean already. “S’not like I feel it anyway, that’s what the ankle wire’s for.” She grabbed a shirt and tugged it over her head, fixing her beanie as she turned to face him again and grabbed a mop from the corner.

“Ankle wire?” He glanced down, mechanical pieces fitting together behind his eyes. “Of course. You electrocute your nerve endings to suppress pain. Makes perfect sense.” Was she imagining the tiny edge to his voice? “And to think you lectured me before about the external charging I was doing. Don’t you ever worry you’ll fry them, go numb permanently? Although…” He shook his head, the joking tone back to his voice. “Never mind, you could probably fix that if it happened, anyway.”

Azzy began cleaning, ignoring the edge to his voice. This was why she never let anyone assist with her cybernetic self experimentation. This, and the process of the reset. She let herself sound cocky. "Of course I could fix it. Anyway, I have an update for the cooler, so it'll adjust with your body temp, like a real eye. Good for if someone's lookin' atcha with thermal imagin'." She hit a button and hopped onto a counter, the edges of the floor beginning to flood slightly with water. "I also thought maybe I'd upload this real spicy book I read last week to it, in case you get bored. You’ll love it." She snorted, unable to keep a straight face.

He laughed quietly along as he lifted himself onto the counter next to her. It was odd-- even through genuine humor he was looking at her like he was considering something, searching her for the answer to some unspoken puzzle. He let his gaze wander again just before the point where consideration became outright staring. “Feel free. That thermal imaging sounds like a great idea.”

The floor was done flooding, washing the remaining blood down a drain in the center of the room. She hopped back down, crossing the room and grabbing her boots off a shelf. Can't mess with people's eyes with your bare feet just out and around. She looked up from her feet with a curious expression, like he'd given her a brain teaser. "What was that look? You were thinkin' about somethin', and it's almost definitely not the alien erotica I'm puttin' in your peeper as soon as the standard tune up is done."

He shrugged. “I’ll tell you later. There’s some research I want to do first.” He slid off the counter. “First things first, heat regulation and alien erotica.”

"Don't have to tell me twice. Get on the table, I'll get the hookups. Pop that sucker out too, I need to check the retina." She pulled a clean pair of gloves on, snapping the cuff against her wrist. The sensation ricocheted up her arm. Her elbow and wound sparked. Her freshly patched arm swung out of its own volition, landing squarely on Trinity’s backside. Azure blinked, tips of her ears turning bright scarlet as her mouth twitched. “Oops.”

Trinity turned to look at her and blinked bemusedly. “...Getting an early start on the erotica part?” he quipped, but his already pink cheeks flushed darker as he spoke.

Azure giggled in response, pulling her arm back the moment she realized she’d left it there in shock. “Sorry. The node’s been misfirin’, if I hadn’t missed the incision point I’d have replaced and calibrated it by now, my bad.” Her eyes flickered briefly downwards and then immediately to her desk, smirking as she rolled her shoulder and shook her hand to get out any further bursts. “...Glad to know you don’t skip your squats. It’s a nice ass, now that I’m lookin’ at it instead of the wires in my arm.”

“A misfire, sure.” Trinity smirked back. It was easy to tell she was being serious about the misfire-- a lie would have come with a lot more stammering and awkward pauses-- but it was a prime opportunity to tease his friend that he wasn’t about to miss. “Your powers of observation are astonishing. Here.” He popped out the cybernetic eye, deceptively simple looking detached from its complex inner workings. He grinned, and tossed it lightly in one hand, waiting for her to turn back to face him. “Catch.”

She held a jar of fluid for his eye in her hand already as she turned, brow raised. As she faced him, he smirked and tossed the eye towards her, an easy to intercept underhand throw. “Ohfuck-” Snatching it out of the air and setting it gently in the jar, she pouted at him. “Dude, I’m not makin’ you another one if that one breaks.”

“You didn’t make the first one.” He smiled. “It’s fine, I knew you’d catch my eye.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then set the jar down and cracked a smile, some small hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Very funny Hotshot, well done. Don’t throw your fuckin’ organs.” Digging out a small monitor and some wires, she glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m sure all the girls tell you that though, right?”

He scoffed, amused at the idea of the women at the events he attended saying anything about organs out loud. “Just you. It’s a bit of an honor, really.”

“Flatterer. Don’t think I don’t know about your eight illicit rendezvous with five women in the last two days. Sara Mitchell told me all about them last time.” She rolled her eyes and stood, handing him the bundle of tech and tugging at his shirt collar to plug something into his port. “They’re tryin’ harder every time, I swear. I can see why you wanted the backup more ‘n more, I can’t imagine how you got anythin’ done at those things.”

“Mostly by ignoring anyone I didn’t want something from,” Trinity replied casually, opening his shirt a few more buttons to let her access his port more easily. The motion revealed those tattoos she’d already noticed a few times before when doing repairs-- the birds in flight, the trinity knot, the wall, the crumbling tower. Again she considered that their placement, so close to bone in most places and with so many heavy black lines and detailed patterns, must’ve really hurt. A phantom pain shot down her own spine in sympathy at the thought.

“Well, I guess that explains it just fine.” She flipped a few switches, monitors whirring to life. “Not very nice, but then again neither is listenin’ to them gripin’ because I won’t tell ‘em your-” She stopped herself, face reddening as she dropped a heartbeat sensor in his lap. A nasal feminine voice replayed in her ear, begging the question how big is it, really? She picked her sentence back up with a rambling vigor, trying her absolute best to drown her own thoughts out. “-current plans. Nasty, all of ‘em. Super nosy. Can’t blame you for ignorin’ it. Wanna put that on your finger? Don’t matter which, any of ‘em are fine, I gotta make sure the readin’s are accurate.”

He gave her a look like he wanted to question her about the hesitation, though she was certain he had a pretty good idea what the ladies had actually been asking her about. However, he simply quirked an eyebrow in her direction as he slipped the sensor onto his pointer finger.

Face still red, she hooked the eye up to a different wire. Something hummed and buzzed, and she heaved a dramatic sigh. “Sorry, you don’t have enough space for the porn. You have all of it allocated for images and text files made by the unit itself.” She made a few keystrokes and turned, looking at everything but him. “Okay, that’s updatin’. Lemme see your empty eye socket, your nerve is registerin’ some weird readings.”

Trinity turned his face up to hers, exposing the scarred inner socket of his eye. He’d never said what had happened to it, but it didn’t look pleasant. “The optic nerve? It should be fine, it’s totally cybernetic. It’s not degrading again, is it?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice at the thought.

“It’s probably just one busted cell. It’s still machinery, sometimes parts need to be replaced.” She grabbed a pair of foreceps and clicked them together where he could see with his good eye. “Tell me if you feel this, because you’re definitely not supposed to.” She poked around at the back of his socket. “Anythin’?”

“No. I think your mother poked around in there enough when she was installing it that it won’t feel much ever again.”

“Then your actual nerve past the cybernetic and into your brain is fine, its just a couple of cones tryin’ to be data transmitters.” She poked at something else and made a small noise of triumph. “I’ll have it replaced, shouldn’t be hard. I think I made a couple extras when I was up all night last week.” The foreceps went back to the table and her face reappeared in his line of sight, beaming. “Your whole business is just as busted, but it’s no worse than when you came the first time. Matter of fact, some of the burns from when your eye wasn’t cooled properly have healed pretty well, like they weren’t even there.”

“Oh,” Trinity responded, pleasantly surprised. “Yes, I tried to do some first aid to keep it from scarring the way my leg did when I used to charge my taser externally.” He didn’t meet her eyes, even though he’d only done it a half dozen times, and all long before he’d met her. The second reminder of his own carelessness with his remaining nerves made him feel a bit guilty for sniping at her about her own. “I took the eye out when I could, used some burn creams and medigel, that kind of thing. Anyway, I’m glad to hear that there’s nothing wrong with the organic nerves.”

“Yep, if nerves had feelin’s they’d be happy as hell. Strong impulses, not too much overtime. Whatever took ‘em out the first time, you’re recoverin’ pretty well given that you lost your whole ass eye.” She returned to her computers, hands flying deftly across the keys and screens as she looked for more anomalies.

“Well, it’s been a couple years at this point. I let it degrade for a while before I sought out your mom, but… it’s good to hear that damage didn’t last.” At least those nerves had recovered. Others hadn’t, but that was going to be the subject of his research for the next few days. Despite what he’d seen earlier when Azzy had been working on her own cybernetics, he trusted her implicitly with his. If anyone could fix his problem, she could.

“It makes sense, the brain doesn’t like leavin’ things so close to it busted. Optic nerve is pretty close.” Her tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth and she squinted at her screen. “....Hey, want a wider zoom on your sensor?”

“Why not? Whatever you think, I trust your judgement.” He leaned back slightly, relaxing, and let her work. She stood quietly for some minutes, occasionally humming a quiet tune that was almost familiar.

Eventually, she was satisfied with her work. She unhooked his eye from its wires, passing him the jar. “There you go, go ahead ‘n smack that back into its place and you’re all set. Recalibrated it’s temperature sensin’ and the coolin’ system to be a little more sensitive to ambient heat. Don’t go swimmin’ in super cold water, though. Might be a little too ambient for it for now.” She had that same smug look she always did when she was done doing maintenance, eyes bright.

“Of course. Thanks, doc.” He said the last bit with a slight smirk, and popped the eye back into place. It rolled around for a few seconds before settling. “See you at the next event?”

“Only if that guy with the braid’s there, I hear he’s kinda fun.” She took her gloves off and waved him off the table. “Get outta here, I gotta reset my arm.”

“Alright.” He stood, a quick pat on her non-injured shoulder his goodbye. “Be careful of that wound. I bandaged it so well, it would be a shame if you messed up my handiwork.”

“I have three doctorates, of course I’m gonna mess it up.” She gave him a quick pat as well, her smile genuine. “I’ll go easy on it. Bean’ll take you back, careful none of my scary vigilante’s eat ya on the way out.” The small bot hovered over his shoulder, beeping a hello tune.

He grinned, and nodded. “I’ll try to steer clear. Let’s go, Bean.” He followed the little bot from the lab, with one last wave towards Azzy, not looking back. She heaved a sigh and grabbed a wire, connecting it to one of her ports once the door closed behind him. She had a limb to test and reset.

#chapter update #wip: babylon #writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink

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bngtanah · 4 years ago

Text

The Difference Between Boys & Girls | o1

summary: Sam & Erin are university students who share a cheap one bedroom apartment above a shitty takeaway restaurant. Due to the limited space, they’ve grown accustomed to sharing just about everything, including the occasional kiss. Despite the amount of time they spend together, their complete comfort in sharing a bed, etc, the pair continues to hold on to the idea that they are completely “platonic.” None of their friends believe this excuse, but as ridiculous as it sounds the unconventional living situation truly does seem to work for them.

Well, it used to anyway..

pairing: Jung Hoseok (Samuel Park) x Named OC characters: meet the cast.

word count: 10k+ genre: angst, smut, fluff

chapters: o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11| 12| 13| 14

warning: boyfriend!hoseok, jealous!hoseok, friends to lovers trope, college au, angst, sexual themes, slow burn, ambw

a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

"You headed out?"

Erin's head whipped around in her roommates direction as he appeared in the doorway of their shared bedroom. He was shirtless, for no proper reason, jogging pants barely clinging to his hip bones. Sammy and Erin, to a certain extent, had stopped being shy being half-naked or completely naked around each other after a successful year of living together, and keeping things from becoming noticeably awkward between them. It was almost a tradition for them to freely walk around their tiny apartment space in the dead of winter or in the sweltering heat of summer in next to nothing.

She turned in her seat to fully face Sammy as he flashed her one of his infamous megawatt smiles. It always amazed Erin how he did that, going from smoldering and sexy one second to unexpectedly adorable the very next. It was a talent if she ever saw one. Erin inhaled and clenched the makeup brush in her hand with a tighter grip.

“Uh, yeah. Some girls from my study group invited me out for a drink” She nodded, tapping the fluffy end of her powder brush against her knee as she did her best to keep her eyes focused on his face and not his bare chest.

“I don’t really feel like going, but it beats lying around here doing nothing with you all night,” She shrugged.

Sammy rolled his eyes and drilled his toned shoulder into the doorjamb. "You make it sound like we don’t have any fun just lying around" He replied with a gentle pout.

"Oh, so much fun," Erin reassured with a hint of sarcasm. "But I’m sure they will kick me out of the group if I keep turning down their G.N.O’s."

"They sound like shitty friends; why would you want to go out with them anyway?"

"Well, there aren’t too many people falling over themselves to hang out with an English major, some of us have to take what we can get" Erin chuckled and turned back to face the mirror to finish constructing her 'I don’t really want to be here’ face. Minimal makeup and boring straight hair.

"I enjoy hanging out with you, am I not enough?" Samuel shot back.

Why were they debating this?

The question nearly fell from Erin’s lips because it almost sounded like her roommate was trying to convince her not to go. It was a stupid thought but one that had to be considered.

"Sammy," Erin sighed. "Are you bored or something? You're a big boy I'm sure you can find some way to entertain yourself when I'm not here," She craned her head to look at him again, "Maybe catch up on some of the 'anatomy' research I caught you doing in the living room last night?"

The slight frown that was forming on Sammy's lips disappeared into a broad grin in response to Erin's statement, making her stomach flutter just slightly. She always enjoyed seeing him laugh, especially when she was the cause.

With him partially distracted, Erin took the chance to subtly drink in every inch of his toned skin. He wasn't overtly muscular, more lean than anything but cut where he needed to be. Erin concluded that he had the years he spent dancing to thank for that. His face… Sam had a face that wouldn't seem like much at first glance but there was simply something about him that made you want to keep looking once he caught your eye. Strong jawline, straight nose, deep-set brown eyes that turned into half-moons whenever he smiled, which was often. It convinced Erin that he could make any person fall in love by doing something as simple as breathing, and you'd find yourself becoming jealous of the air that filled his lungs because it could touch him in places that you couldn't.

Not that she was in love with him, but she would be an idiot not to notice what a total hottie her roommate was.

“Whatever, noona.”

His voice snapped Erin out of her haze.

"Go out with your book nerds and paint the town beige," Sammy pushed away from the threshold, padded into the room and came to stand behind where Erin sat.

It should be noted that Erin wasn't entirely dressed either. She was in her robe, bare underneath, and silently willing her nipples not to get hard. The vanity mirror she set up cut Sammy off at the neck so all she could see was his torso just about pressed up against her back. He leaned down bringing his cheek close to her own.

She inhaled softly. The scent of his soap and cologne filled her nostrils and almost made her eyes flutter with satisfaction. She held it together though, no matter how much Erin harped on and on about not feeling anything but friendship for Samuel the past few months made it clear she wasn't sure what the hell she felt anymore.

They had been friends long before they decided to live together. Having seen each other through all the lows and highs of life since high school, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that they were more than just friends. They were basically family. Which was why Erin just couldn't bear to question exactly what had been going on between them lately. The closer than normal contact, him asking to share the bed with her because the pullout couch was messing with his back, all the goodbye kisses that seemed to linger for a second too long to be innocent. All signs pointed to the fact that he was feeling the same kind of attraction that she was, but even with all that evidence Erin just couldn't muster up the courage to call any attention to it.

Sammy brought a hand up and brushed it through gently through Erin's hair. Inwardly, her muscles tensed at his caress, and ripples of energy splintered everywhere. Erin's hair just happened to be an erogenous zone for her, but apparently only when Sammy touched it, which he did often enough.

"If you really want to go have some fun, then I'll stop bothering you," Sammy stated, twirling a strand around his index finger.

His voice sounded coarse like the words pained him to say out loud, that was probably just Erin's imagination.

Instead of responding Erin shrugged her shoulders and reached for her darkest tube of lipstick that wasn't actually black. Dreary colors usually did the trick to scare any guys planning to target her as an easy lay. To the weak of heart, they seemed to suggest hypersexuality, dabbling in witchcraft or both. Which meant whatever lame pickup line they had planned would not fly with her.

“Don't make it sound like I'm locking you in a cage here by yourself.” Erin said after a few seconds, biting into her lip when Sammy's hand smoothed down to her shoulder.

His brow scrunched, and his lips pulled down at the corners. “There's only so much I can do when you're not here.”

Erin snickered and began lining her lips in plum lipstick. “We have internet and a laptop, go nuts.”

“That's only fun when I think you're gonna catch me.”

Erin's eyebrow quirked, but she ignored that minor revelation “You're so gross.”

Sammy laughed again and that curious hand of his moved back up to Erin's neck, his thumb rubbing circles at her nape.

“You're distracting me,” She said through a soft breath.

“Ah, sorry,” Sammy dropped his hand, but he didn't move from his spot. His eyes zeroed in on her lips while she put on her lipstick. “Is that new? I really like that color on you noona.”

Capping the lipstick, Erin smiled gently and looked forward, her eyes connecting with Sammy's through his reflection in the mirror. “When exactly did I become noona, by the way? In the years we've known each other I can count on one hand the amount of times you've called me that.”

Sammy smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "You don't like it?"

It was quite the opposite, actually. If Erin had a smidgen of confidence, she would tell him she absolutely adored hearing him call her 'noona'. She was over the novelty of the age gap a year after moving to South Korea but there was just something about the way Sammy said it. It wasn't said condescendingly or begrudgingly but with genuine love and Erin could feel that.

"Nah, it makes me feel old."

"Well, that's too bad because I enjoy saying it to you-" Sammy lowered his frame until he rested on his haunches with is chin just about resting on Erin's shoulder. "Noona."

He was too low for her to elbow him like she wanted to so Erin settled for judgmental glare before returning to her makeup. "Keep this up and I'll be waking you up in the middle of the night just to gush all about all the guys I make out with tonight, with vivid detail."

Sammy cocked a lopsided grin. "I doubt that will happen. When you spend nights making out with guys you don't want to give it up to, I usually just hear you lock the door and bzzzzz." He replied, complete with sound effects and what could only be described as his imitation of a stroke victim having an orgasm.

"Out! Right now, that's enough out of you for the night" Erin exclaimed through a mixture of laughter and embarrassed groans, turning to smack him a few times on the shoulder.

Chuckling, Sammy rose to his feet.

"All right, all right I'll go but I do have one question for you," He said as he stared down at Erin, placing his hands on his hips, and wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. Erin dug all ten of her fingernails into her kneecaps to get a hold of herself.

"What's your question, Samuel?"

"Are you planning on bringing anyone home tonight?"

Erin paused, suspicion making her eyes squint gently. That was a question she'd never heard from him before. "Why?"

"Just answer the question, Erin."

"I....don't know, probably not. Why?"

"I just wanted to know if I'd have time to try out my new noise-cancelling headphones tonight."

With that Erin rolled her eyes and stood to face him, "I've had enough of you Sammy, get out. I need to get dressed and you’re just distracting me with foolishness." Sammy only chuckled then shuffled toward the door, whistling.

Just as quickly as he left Sammy's head popped up at the corner of the entrance again. Erin stared at him expectantly.

"Why don't I come out with you tonight? I know for a fact that you only tolerate those book club girls and I know Kasey won't be coming because I was eavesdropping earlier. Come on, I'll do you a favor. ,"

Erin's fingers strummed the vanity top as she contemplated her roommate's suggestion. The girls from her study group weren't exactly nuns, but they definitely weren't the most fun to hang with on a Friday night. They also probably wouldn't take too kindly to Erin inviting a guy to their 'Girl's Night Out'. However, having Sammy around all but guaranteed that she would have a good time tonight, even if it meant getting on their bad side.

It seemed worth it right?

"Can you promise to be on your best behavior?"

He shrugged. "Probably, but that depends on what you mean by 'best'."

"Like no challenging random people to a dance off, no hitting on any of my study group members..."

Sammy laughed. "Ooh, don't think I can agree to that last request, I've been on a kind of book smart, nerdy girl kick lately."

"Ugh, whatever just don't make it obvious" Erin replied, grabbing her cellphone. "I'll text Kim and tell her I have a....friend joining me."

Sammy beamed and immediately rushed over to envelop Erin in a smothering hug, making her blush like a silly schoolgirl in return. "We're gonna have a blast, noona."

Erin grinned and stroked the smooth skin on his back softly. "I wouldn't speak too soon."

The smile on Sammy's face faltered slightly, but he made no attempt at letting her go, his hands found their way into Erin's hair again and she shuddered slightly. A response that did not go unnoticed by Sammy since their bodies were practically sandwiched together. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't control the future; we could get hit by a car on our way there. Go cover up your nips. We have to leave soon, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah" The lean boy replied as he slowly released Erin from his grasp and began making his way toward the door for the third time that night. He paused for a second once he was in the doorway and turned to glance at Erin who was combing through her hair, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"This better not be something silly."

"Wear your hair up."

Erin blinked a few times at her reflection before her eyebrow shot upward and she swiveled her head in Sammy's direction, waiting for him to elaborate on his random suggestion.

His expression was serious, and his eyes almost appeared to be darkened. "Your hair up, with that dark lipstick…? You look irresistible."

A pang of electricity sparked right through Erin's core, it took every amount of self-restraint in her not to cross the room and smear her perfectly applied lipstick all over his toned chest.

Instead, she chose to cover up her attraction with a pleasant smile while obediently complying with his request.

"Up it is."

#jung hoseok #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #bts hobi #hobi #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x oc #bts x woc #dbbg

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