#it really does do you good to pay attention to things like severe cramps that could be bowel obstructions

[collectivecloseness]

A Heated Bedroom

Kurt Kunkle x reader

(Summary: You and Kurt haven’t been going through the best patch in your relationship recently, but nothing a gentle dose of sex and loving can’t fix. Notes: reuploaded from my ao3. Smut, only slight angst at start, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), Kurt with the slight oral fixation, sub!kurt, soft dom!reader. 18+. F!reader. 5k)

The past nearly two weeks you’d been getting into fights with Kurt. Thankfully they were only small, but the atmosphere from them had started to build up little by little over time.

The past month it seemed like you two had slowed down a little relationship wise. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But at first you were seeing each other slightly less than usual, something that Kurt vocally was pretty upset about, unless it was him riding 12 hour days in his spree. Then of course it wasn’t a big deal. But then when you were together it was almost stifling. The sex hadn’t been as good either as of late. It wasn’t really a downfall of either of you individually, and it was fine, but stress had been seeming to dampen the spark.

You were determined to switch things around though. You just needed one moment. One time to rejuvenate said spark and get you two back on track. You still both loved each other, you’d even had to hold Kurt’s hand several days ago when you guys were arguing, but the yelling was simultaneously making him sad. They hadn’t exactly been harsh fights, it just hadn’t been a very uplifting mood in your cramped apartment at the moment.

Looking over at Kurt again, since you were both just sitting in bed, him in the middle on his phone, you at the foot watching tv, you wondered if he’d look up when you ogled him. Unsurprisingly he didn’t, but that was definitely because of whatever it was he was focused on on his phone right now, mostly likely checking the views on a video he posted considering you could see him refreshing the page from the way his fingers moved, versus him just not wanting to pay you any attention. If there was one thing Kurt liked, it was attention. Granted normally receiving it, but he was nothing if not a generous lover, at usual times.

It was hot in the apartment at the moment, your aircon broke, which had probably fueled last nights sleep ridden argument about quilts and cuddling being too hot. So naturally he was only wearing shorts, no shirt

You slowly crawled up your shared bed, you could tell Kurt noticed you by the pause of tapping on his screen. But he quickly tried to get back into it, not looking up from his phone.

Once you were close enough to feel his body heat you leaned in and did the only thing you wanted to do right now. You nuzzled into his stomach.

Kurt’s face shot up at that, the soft glow illuminating his surprised face, as you caressed your nose in deeper. “Wh- uh, what are you doing?” He asked timidly. Mostly because you touching his tummy like that caused a spike to shoot through his dick.

Already knowing that, you simply moved your face up to his neck, smiling when his body automatically leant back to expose it for you. You very lightly pressed whispers of kisses to his neck. “I miss my baby.”

You kissed some more, they still only fluttered against Kurt’s warm skin, slow but getting all the spots you knew made him heat up. Gently brushing your lips so softly, no matter how much you wanted to ravage your boyfriend, you knew was a sure fire way to draw him in. You kissed one spot to the side, next his pulse point, then where it connected to his collarbone, not leaning back so you could speak against him “Does this feel good?”

“M-More please.”

It felt too good. Kurt had opened his mouth to speak, but a whine beat him to the chase. He was happy you always liked his noises though, because he knew that it was okay. Even if he still got so enamoured by touches a while into your relationship.

Knowing exactly what he meant, you kissed his neck harder, the amount you usually would when you were trying to make Kurt feel good. “Good boy. Using your words.” You mouthed around his flushed skin wetly, knowing that’s the way he liked it, sucking lightly into the points that made him squeeze his fists. Moving back a little you kissed his jaw, nosing at it in adoration. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Kurt reminded you, nosing under your jaw similarly in a small whine, closing his eyes when you started sucking harder into his feverish neck, especially when you licked over the marks he was thanking God you were making on him.

He was so sensitive right now. It was like you were touching him for the first time again, with how light and slow your touches were at first. Gentle with him. Your hand smoothed down his neck with a hum, leaning your nose against his ear as you both watched your hand trail.

Something in Kurt’s gut clenched in anticipation as your hand trailed down to his tummy, sliding a finger over his abdomen so good it almost tickled, but it just made his heart spasm uncontrollably instead. Your soft fingers reached all the way down to his navel, before gliding up his happy trail to his chest, the simple touch making Kurt arch his back in a high gasp.

Maybe it was the fact these touches weren’t overtly sexual, they were just loving gestures, ones to please him. But he still knew exactly where they were leading.

Your hand circled Kurt’s waist over and over, nails barely touching him but the pads of your fingers sparking electricity through his crotch, especially when the repetitive motion in that one spot finally let up and switched, as you traced your fingers down to the outside of his exposed thigh. Even that was so sensitive for him. As proven by his whimper and his falling onto the bed, blinking submissively as he gripped onto your free arm with need.

And that was before you got to the inside of his thigh. When you lightly stroked there, Kurt started wriggling into the mattress, his dick tingling hard with need as he couldn’t take anymore without an outlet. He still didn’t wiggle away from your touch though, even though it was so much, it was too good to let you go.

All of this almost had you blushing like Kurt. You nearly forgot how easy it was to make him melt so quickly. But Kurt was almost crying out into the bed, squirming as his breaths drew closer to pants as he watched you.

You slipped your hand to his other thigh, lightly brushing the inside of it, keeping your face relaxed. “What would you like, sweet boy?” You asked, genuinely wanting to know what he wanted to do with you, what he needed from you. Your hand slipped past his risen shorts, all five of your fingertips circling gracefully.

“I w-want you to f-fuck me, please.” He stuttered. His clammy hand rubbed up and down your forearm as he pleaded, but not with the same control you had, his touch was needy and he was not afraid to flaunt it, if it meant he’d get what he so desperately burned for. He didn’t care he just needed you to please keep touching him.

You smiled, and even that simple act made Kurt’s heart swell.

You sat somewhere over his calves, letting your hands move slightly less daintily now to pull Kurt’s shorts down, leaving them around his knees as you were enamoured by the clear outline of his hard on in his blue boxers, and the small wet patch seeping into the outside of them. Slowly, you leant your face in, before licking a long stripe over his bulge through the thin material.

Kurt nearly knocked his junk into your face by accident at your teasing touch, but was managed to be subdued by your weight on his legs, rolling the upper half of his body up and down instead at the treatment, looking down to you with wet open lips and a moan.

You made a show of pulling his clothes down to his ankles, before fully undressing yourself quickly, knowing Kurt needed you right now.

And need you he did. You tossed your worn panties to him with a chuckle, moving your top off as Kurt clenched the still warm clothing in his hands, before bringing it up to his lips and inhaling deeply. He was still just as addicted to your smell. Once he noticed the wetness on the inside of them however, he quickly chucked them to the side so he could try and get a look at you, to see if you were really that wet. Just for him. And he didn’t think he’d even done anything to deserve it yet. God he didn’t deserve you.

“You’re such a good boy for me Kurt.” You rasped out for him as you kneeled your way further up the bed, stretching yourself open in a display that made Kurt’s irises explode wide. “Always my good boy.”

Finally in position, you leant down to his stomach where his poor weeping dick rested, smearing his pre agaisnt your own slick as you gently moved Kurt’s dick over your folds. Wetting it for yourself, and showing him just how hot he made you. You couldn’t help but tease his tip over your clit a few times, moaning orgasmically and only tightening your grip around his cock.

Kurt just groaned, feeling like he could cum already just from you teasing him around your hole. You were so wet and hot. A grunting cry got stuck in his throat as he smashed his head back into the mattress.

Finally, you lowered yourself down on him. Making sure to go as slow as possible. And oh boy if that didn’t make Kurt just scream.

Your clit was already tingling when you eventually got Kurt fully inside you, just resting on his pelvis for a second with your hands pushing on his v line, just letting yourself take in the feeling of him inside you, of your walls completely surrounding him, and how full he made you feel. And fuck if Kurt wasn’t doing the exact same thing. Just with more whispers of ”Please.”

When you started rocking your hips, his whispers turned into moans.

Kurts eyes looked at yours zombie like, an ‘o’ shape clear on his perfectly pink lips, moaning “uh”s every single time you grinded on him, like he was a man possessed by your sex. Truthfully he was. Kurt was fully blissed out already, feeling like he’d been yearning for this for so long. Even though you two had had sex recently. It just hadn’t been like this.

You slowly lifted yourself off him, just a couple of inches, feeling the cool air whip against your wet cunt, before you slammed back down into the warm mess of Kurt’s crotch.

A shattered moan left your boyfriend and you grinned, beginning to start a steady rhythm. Kurt could barely get out a smile in response to your own before his face was twisting in pleasure once more, having to take a second to remember to breathe like you’d helped him with before, and just melt in the feeling. He quickly got it, only getting louder once he regained ability in his vocal cords. Composure was never a thing Kurt was very good at for long though. Especially with you.

Kurt took your hand not slowly, but softly, still moaning under you with breaths that sounded like gargles, as he placed your hand into his brown hair, wanting you to touch it.

Of course you complied, smiling while you fucked yourself on him with wet sounds, as you gripped your hand through his slightly greasy locks. Not tightly, but enough to keep a connection with Kurt, using it to steady your thrusts in and out of him a little, smoothing your fingertips through his hair; he never felt you might’ve pulled a little hard.

Your circled your hips a few times, not that you really needed to because Kurt was so thick, he always filled you up just like you needed, before beginning to fuck yourself up and down on his cock again. Quickly Kurt was hitting that delicate spot deep inside you, and it made your clit throb with need. You let out a large whine, fucking yourself addictively onto Kurt’s cock so he could keep slamming that part deep in your cunt so it made your stomach twist.

Kurt panted loud as soon as he heard that whine, taking your free hand up in his because he wanted to hold it, entwining his fingers as both your palms shifted up and down his chest, while he laid back and watched you make love to him. Feeling every clench and drip of your walls. He wondered if you could feel how hard his dick was throbbing. He knew he couldn’t hold back much more.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me Kurt.” You moaned, clenching his hand in yours as you tried to thrust your clit against any skin you could find of his, craving that touch.

“Pl-Please?” Kurt moaned out desperately, his grunts becoming louder and louder as your pace sped up in your humping onto his sensitive cock. “Please can I cum y/n? Need it...”

You opened your eyes even though you were in pure ecstasy, but Kurt’s sweet face just made it even better. “Of course you can baby. My good boy can cum whenever he wants. You wanna cum for me Kurtie?”

Kurt didn’t even bother responding. Immediately with your approval, and with your pussy squeezing sporadically around his cock, he came instantly. Spurting hot loads of cum deep inside your cunt, only moaning louder as you rode it out of him, filling you up as he orgasmed for several long seconds, not thinking he could fuck this much cum into you. Your thrusts were so hard and fast now, and he whined out in a yell drenching sweat into the matrress, his wet dick still twitching inside you as you fucked him.

“Fuck Kurt.” You moaned, feeling just how his hot cum stirred inside you while you humped his dick. It was breaking you apart so bad. You forced your hand to cup lovingly at his cheek, even though all you wanted to do with claw scratch marks into his chest. “Didn’t know you had that much in you.” You breathed out, whining throatily as at a new angle your clit managed to find some warm part of Kurt’s body to thrust against, perfectly aligning with the full, sticky, warm feeling you now had. “Gonna make me cum just like that sweetheart.”

You didn’t hold back any sounds at all now. You were as loud as your body yearned for you to be, looking down and seeing Kurt’s worshipping face as you held him, looking straight up at you and smiling not wide, but so deeply happy it made your whole body and mind thud.

“Mmh!” You squeaked out, holding one hand to his hip as you let your movements become sloppier when feeling your walls fluttering come nearer, one hand still placed against his soft cheek as you hit that spot one more time and you felt yourself fully letting go.

Your cunt clenched against him and electricity rippled through your body, being so so loud as you came. So Kurt knew he was doing a good job, that you appreciated him. And you didn’t even need to fuck out your last few thrusts on weak legs, because with your emphatic moans of praise, Kurt held your back and thrust up into you, prolonging your orgasm even more as he fucked you hard, because it always made him happy making you cum.

He was a bit overeager even when you’d finished cumming, but he got tired quickly so you didn’t get overstimulated. He finally stopped his thrusts with a groan, keeping both his hands warmly on your lower back though, just watching you untangle around his dick, and slowly start to come down from your high. Kurt never wanted to not be making you feel like this.

You both just panted, throats on the edge of aching, as Kurt’s burning hands stayed placed on your equally hot skin. He was still inside of you, but it didn’t feel too much, it felt nice, safe in some way. Like you both fit like this.

But soon the soreness in your legs started to finally filter through to your euphoric brain, and you started to move both your hands to his hips, signalling you were about to get off, as soon as you had the energy to do so.

“Can I watch again?”

You looked up to Kurt, seeing his curious eyes and you nodded contentedly. He asked the same question now again.

Appreciating his help as you lifted yourself off him, you laid on your back, relaxing into the mattress. Kurt kicked off the material around his legs as he dragged you by your ankles to the right place and he rolled onto his stomach, peering dreamily at your empty cunt.

After only a couple of seconds he got impatient, so Kurt softly pressed on your stomach, until his cum began to flow out of your already dripping pussy. He laughed a little as he watched it, leaning on his forearms. He liked to watch himself leak from you sometimes. He didn’t really know why but he’d never questioned it before either.

You could feel Kurt’s warm breath against your thighs as he laughed. From where your head tilted you could see Kurt’s happy expression too, but you wanted to take a second before you sat up again. Satisfied to just let him watch you.

His smile was great, always so rewarding, but you weren’t done yet. Feeling movement in your legs again and adrenaline pumping straight to your crotch you sat yourself up, taking Kurt’s hand as his eyes trained on you in intrigue. You stood up, moving to the end of your shared bed, before sitting Kurt upright and dangling his legs from it, kneeling slowly down to the ground as you kept that eye contact.

Kurt gulped as your finger swirled around his kneecap, especially when you leaned your head dreamily on his knees, so so close to his cock that was hardening again at an accelerated speed.

Kurts breathing was slightly louder, but his eyes still remained soft on yours, especially when his trembling hand went to stroke through your hair that curtained his lap. “Baby.”

You felt your limbs turn to mush, as well as all your brain function. He’d spoken in such a loving tone, and you could feel the heat travelling to your cheeks bones, almost like that was the cause for them raising into such a large smile, all of it from him calling you those sweet pet names again.

You gave the area above his knee a swift kiss, smiling with full teeth to him as you spread your digits along his flesh. “I’ve gotta clean my mess off you baby. ‘S only fair.” You told him, almost with a pout to your lips at how you could’ve dared dirty him up. But your wet jutted out lips only served to fuel Kurt’s arousal as you slid them around the tip of his cock, sucking sweetly on it.

“Ohhhhhhgnh.... fuck.” Kurt gripped his thighs as he rocked on his lap, already rock hard just from that small touch of yours. He almost couldn’t bring himself to look down at you like this because he feared it’d make him cum that second. But he also couldn’t tear his eyes away. Not from the way you batted your eyelashes up at him, eyes wide and shiny from the overhead light, nor the way you angled yourself so you could just about brush the tip of your nose against his length when he spoke to you. Definitely not when your lips were so perfectly o shaped around his dick, like your mouth was meant for him.

He tried to hold off his release as best he could. Luckily it seemed to be working.

He brought his hand to your hair, not to pull or take control, but he gently held as much of it as possible in one movement, to hold it like a messy ponytail behind your head, to help you a little. Plus it meant he got to see more of that gorgeous fucking face, with just a few strands of disheveled hair around you as you sucked him.

You gave his slit a small flick of your tongue, watching him hiss and groan from above you. Soon you were kitten licking his tip, for over a full minute, agonising him with teasing touches and you knew it was driving him crazy from his strained high moans he let roll off his tongue.

Moving your hand to hold his base, finally you licked a long stripe on the underside of his cock, making a slow display for your boyfriend above you who just whined.

He tasted like your own slick and his cum, both your releases mixed together. It was even stronger when you finally took most of his length in in one go, still always used to him, taking it out so you could lick your lips for the taste. And you told him what you were tasting, adding onto the end with a gentle squeeze of his balls “It’s a fucking treat to taste Kurt.”

Kurt shifted his hips rhythmically, if only to wriggle out some of the tension building inside of him. “Y-Yeah, wanna give you more, o-of that.” It sounded like he genuinely wanted to but also lost some confidence in the last second to be sure of his dirty words.

You couldn’t respond though except for a small smile, laughing through your nose which Kurt could feel pleasurably, as your mouth was too busy with his dick.

Kurt groaned throatily as you finally took all of him in, your nose hitching against his pelvis before pulling back again. He just liked the feel of gently holding you while you fucked him with your mouth, whimpering to himself which only made things worse as he‘d been trying to quiet his pantings, just wanting to hear the sounds of your mouth taking him all in.

When you licked the big vein of his cock to the roof of your mouth Kurt just lost it. The warm wet feeling enveloping him was making him lose his mind, and you’d only fully taken him about 45 seconds ago. “Mmmm mm!!!” He was desperately trying not to squirm around, needing to feel you encasing him, needing to see the drool leaking your lips as you took such good care of him. His heavy breathing only increased when he looked straight at you, and that sound pooled warmth in your crotch.

You pulled back to wrap your tongue around his length, kissing away a thick glob of pre before taking him back in with a grateful moan, sinking in the feeling of being so full, forgetting all about how the vibrations were causing Kurt’s fists to clench, only remembering as his dick spasmed wildly in your mouth. You were just so happy sitting here with Kurt inside you.

Tightening your cheeks you sucked him more aggressively, and you should’ve known he’d cum nearly just as quick as your second round the first time you were this gentle with him, his first time.

Kurt cried as soon as he felt himself starting to cum, fat tears leaking out as his dick, hidden in your mouth, shot out his hot load, sobs leaving him in a pitch that scraped his throat as you drank him down in such quick movements, and squeezed his dribbling cock as you did so.

The taste was salty and so familair and you swallowed all of it, you loved that taste, you didn’t want to miss a drop. You even licked your lips, after kissing his tip more than a few final times, just making sure all of him went down, as he watched you.

You knew the crying wasn’t from overstimulation, mostly because he always verbally whined when he was overstimulated. Sometimes he just did cry when you two had sex. You didn’t mind though, you liked looking after him.

Standing up, you went over to comfort him, but Kurt spoke first, when you were towering between his legs. “I love you.”

It made your heart soar, and you smiled joyfully as you repeated his words. “Oh baby, I love you too.”

Even though you were just confirming his declaration with your own, and even though you two had said that phrase a thousand times, it still didn’t make Kurt feel it any less. Especially after the past week or so. Kurt looked up at your tall figure from his naked position on the bed frame, with a whimper between his bitten lips as you placed your hands over his warm cheeks and wiped his tears, leaning down and kissing him sweetly.

Kurt happily joined in on the kiss, humming into your mouth as he brushed his lips over your own, knowing how much he’d missed your tongue against his, but he was so glad you were giving it to him now. Kurt could stay happy simply kissing you, he placed a hand onto your cheek and you wrapped yours around his neck, it made his heart feel all good whenever you two kissed. He loved you!

During your kiss you sat back down, your thighs leaning against Kurt even though he wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his lap and not let you leave. But after a few seconds of blissful post kiss haze for him, it wasn’t exactly a sexual kiss, but it made him fuzzy nonetheless, he realised his hand had migrated to your thigh. And once he looked down, he was sure what his next purpose was.

Upon seeing some of his cum exiting down your thigh slowly, Kurt wordlessly leant over with two fingers to scoop some of his release from the outside of your pussy, only to unceremoniously push it back into you. He smiled as your nails gripped onto his bicep, when you felt him inside you for just a second, before he pulled out, wiping his fingers on his own thigh messily.

It seemed that had been the last of sex fueled Kurt for now though, because suddenly he was your sweet boy once more, not that he’d ever stopped being, but you could tell he was tired and, as always, wanting just your affection now.

Kurt leant his head on your shoulder, and you were content with just letting him rest there, even if his eyelashes tickled as they batted against your skin. It felt nice just to have him breathe against you, but especially when he was holding your hands in your lap.

Suddenly you became aware of an acute tugging on your hair, and when you angled your head, you saw Kurt had started mindlessly chewing on it. “Dirty, sweetheart.” You lightly told him, smoothing a hand down his face and ridding your hair from his lips in the same movement. Although you did have to pick out little strands still attached to your head, that were caught on Kurt’s open wet mouth. He liked just sitting there, not having to do anything but keep his mouth open, letting you brush and smooth over his lips, especially when you put your thumb inside for a second, just to sort him out. “Do you want a kiss instead?” You offered him something to do with his mouth.

Kurt of course, didn’t do anything but nod. You kissed him again gracefully, managing to wipe some of his spit off your fingers once you brushed through his hair, the kiss only being a short one which definitely was right for the mood, but was not enough for Kurt. You could tell this yourself by the way his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water when you pulled back.

“Can I-“ Kurt began to ask, rubbing his cheek into your collarbone with a small mewl. “Can I have one please? For a little while?”

He didn’t ask like he wasn’t sure that he was going to get what he wants however. As much as you had him wrapped around your finger, he did too. Sure he made a lot of mistakes, almost all of them small so far, but he was way too cute to stay mad at.

Knowing immediately what he meant, you agreed. Kurt let you shuffle over to the headboard of your bed, even kindly propping the pillows up for you, so you could rest back against the frame, and you opened your arms encouragingly for Kurt. He immediately wriggled into your embrace, laying down against your chest with a peaceful sigh, before taking one of your tits into his mouth and sucking gently.

He kept his eyes opened at first, just looking at your body, not in a sexual way, but just knowing you were there, eyes following your arm as your raised it to stroke his hair, relaxing more at the feel. He physically couldn’t keep his eyes from dropping shut when you caressed the hairs at the nape of his neck though, shivering into your body but only slightly releasing your nipple to exhale a sigh. He was completely latched back onto it again when he was done, looking up into your eyes and knowing everything was going to be okay.

And even though he loved the feeling of his mouth being entertained, especially when it was you inside him, he popped off wetly for a second, because he was too enamoured by your look and your face and just all of you past and present to not open his mouth and speak his mind. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, so much Kurt.” You smiled, knowing he meant it and you were going to be okay.

You were both so happy you were going back to being you again.

[starblaster]

the replies on that post make me so sad. you can have issues with unsanitary things and still learn and accept very simple facts about bodily functions. you should be in-touch with your body, even with the ‘gross’ stuff it does.

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

-

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment. 

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky​ @linkpk88​ @afootnoteofhappiness​ @livilottie​

[muselin]

See You Later - Part 1

Who: Beomgyu

Group: TXT

What: Beomgyu/f!reader, collegeAU, slow burn, eventual smut, college student!Gyu, model!Gyu

Word count: 2,238

A/N: this is for @bluekais ❤ Hope you enjoy! Sorry that it's taken so long! There will be a Part 2 coming but I got myself elbows-deep into Kinktober so might take a while as well 🎃

____________________________________

"Tch."

The dissatisfied noise leaving your lips had become habit by now. Just his presence annoyed you, but the fact that he had the nerve to show up late to class almost every time, carrying that stupid skateboard, made your blood boil a little bit. He never studied, never did the assignments, always showed up late and he was still somehow passing this class. This class that you had worked so hard to get into and had to keep working so hard to stay in. It didn't come naturally to you but it did to him and it made you green with envy.

"Ah, Beomgyu-ssi, how kind of you to join us," your professor quipped sarcastically as Beomgyu beamed a smile that was frustratingly charming and headed for the only empty space in the auditorium which, to your displeasure, happened to be next to you.

You didn't acknowledge each other as you continued scribbling furiously into your notebook while Beomgyu sat with his chin leaned on his hand. You noticed that he hadn't taken out anything to write with.

"Now I will hand out your assignments for the next lecture. Remember we have study week, so you will have one week to complete these. Please remain in your seats as you are now."

Your professor proceeded to hand out stacks of papers and you couldn't help noticing that he was handing only one stack for every two students. He was making his way down your row and dropped off an assignment right between you and Beomgyu.

"I can hold it for us," Beomgyu smiled pleasantly as he looked over to you, seemingly unaffected by your sour expression. As the two of you read the instructions for the music production assignment, Beomgyu would stop and mutter to himself every once in a while: "Hmm, I already have a bass guitar for this," "This would be very easy to add a snare to," "I just need vocals and someone to match the drum line to this".

"Alright, everyone ready?" The auditorium hummed with mumbled "yes"es.

"Good," your professor continued, "you will be doing the assignment in pairs, in the order that I've handed the assignments out to you".

You groaned inwardly, noticing yours and Beomgyu's names at the bottom right corner of the cover page.

"Class dismissed!"

You were unsure what to do. You'd have to spend quite a lot of time with Beomgyu to finish this but you didn't have his number and you didn't even know which dorm he was in. Before you could open your mouth to ask Beomgyu when you should meet up, he was getting up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"See you later, Y/N," his voice laced with his regional dialect reached you as an afterthought.

"Tch. Fuck you too, Choi," you muttered.

___________________

It had been four days since you last saw Beomgyu and you were getting nervous. You had started the assignment early and done as much as you could do. You hated to admit it but you really did need him for this. You had worked out a base melody but it was too bare and uninteresting and you knew from hearing him talk to himself that he knew a lot of elements which could add flare and points to the assignment. You hunched over your laptop, browsing the music library. Begrudgingly, at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, you decided to email him through the university central email list.

### 22:01 ###  Hi Beomgyu, it's Y/N, your partner for the music production assignment. I've thrown some things together but we need to meet to do the rest. I realised I didn't have your number or your dorm address, let me know when we can meet up. ###

You waited for a while after pressing send, just in case he was on his emails right now. At midnight you gave up and went to sleep.

### 03:44 ### Hi! Sorry about that! Can you bring what you have over to mine at about noon tomorrow? Here's the postcode ###

You woke up to the reply from Beomgyu and nearly panicked that you would be late. He didn't live close by at all, the post code seemed to be for a swanky area of newly built apartments downtown, miles away from your suburban campus.

You showered and dressed as quickly as possible. You weren't dressing up for anyone. Jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt was all Beomgyu was getting from you. You grabbed your laptop and equipment and headed out the door.

________________

At 11:55, you knocked on Beomgyu's door. He lived on the 13th floor and on the elevator up to his apartment you hoped to whoever would listen that this wouldn't turn out to be as unlucky as the out-of-order sign on the second elevator.

The front door clicked and opened to reveal a somewhat sleepy Beomgyu, dressed in a tshirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, Y/N, you're early," he said, then looked at his watch. You found this ironic, considering he never showed up to class on time.

"Well, not by much. Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, opening the front door widely for you to walk in past him. "I'll make coffee," he yawned.

As you walked past him you couldn't help but note in your head that he smelled really good. You weren't sure if it was his cologne or laundry but it was the kind that settled pleasantly in your chest and made you want to breathe in deeper. You stopped that train of thought harshly as soon as you felt your mind drift that way. You were perfectly happy with feeling generally mildly annoyed with Beomgyu. It was your comfort zone, even if having to work with him was pushing it.

"So how come you don't live on camp-- Wow..."

Your jaw dropped as you walked into the apartment. It was nothing like the cramped dorm rooms you and your friends shared on campus. It was bright, spacious and well-decorated, with huge windows and a view that rivaled the best hotels in the business district.

"How the fuck are you affording this," the words tumbled out of you with little grace before you could stop them.

"Well, since you ask, I work a lot of side jobs," Beomgyu said nonchalantly as he poured water into the kettle in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Uhm...," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "at the moment I model."

"You? You model?"

"Yeah, why," he tilted his head at you, looking at you quizzically.

Those big brown eyes, the soft curves of his lips, his chiseled jawline... And his hair looked really soft too. Suddenly from thinking nothing of him you were imagining him as a model. You wondered what he modeled for. Could it be fashion brands? Lifestyle? Prints? Maybe even swimsuits? He always wore those baggy jeans and t-shirts, but maybe...

"Y/N?"

"Oh," you snapped back to him, realising you hadn't answered him. "Yeah I just... didn't know, that's all."

"Uhm, cool. Why don't you drop your stuff off in the room down the hall, the one on the left?"

You nodded and picked up your laptop bag and equipment, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you padded down the hall. You nudged open the door to the room he'd pointed you to, jaw dropping again for the second time today as you walked in.

The room was a small makeshift studio, with mics, a sound control board and several guitars. Several notepads were strewn about along with a few used coffee mugs and muffin wrappers. It seemed to be the most lived-in space of Beomgyu's house so far and you were suddenly starting to understand why he never seemed to pay much attention to the classes. You dropped your bags off in the corner and sat down at his computer, looking at the various pieces of equipment connected to it.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Beomgyu's pleasant voice reverberate in the room. You hadn't heard him come in after you. Covering up your startled reaction, you mumbled your preference and he returned shortly with two steaming mugs, setting them down on his desk.

"Um, so... For this assignment I've tried layering the melodies but it's very bare. I thought we could use it as a starting point and build on it," you said, trying to sound more businesslike.

"That's good, thanks. I actually don't have a lot of time so a head start would be good. I have an hour now but then I need to head out."

Your brow furrowed. An hour? It had taken you three days to put together what you had so far.

"Let's see what you've got," Beomgyu reached for the USB stick in your hands and plugged it into his computer. He downloaded the files and ran them.

An unobtrusive melody filled the small studio. He listened politely, head tilted to one side until it faded out.

"Um... Yeah, I don't play guitar so I wasn't sure what would sound good with that," you started, hands playing with the edges of your shirt nervously. You hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of Beomgyu.

"Yeah, no offence, but it does need a lot more than that," he said. "Let's see what I can do with that."

You sat in your chair and watched him plug one of his guitars into the amp behind you. He tuned it according to the scales in your melody and started to play along.

"Nana naaa," he hummed along quietly. "I don't know about that bar, what do you think," he asked you.

"It's not bad but I think it can go for longer," you replied. Beomgyu nodded, stopping the recording and starting again.

You watched him get lost in his own world as the notes coming from his guitar breathed life into your melody. You watched his fingers strum and pluck, watched his lips open and close in concentration, occasionally the lower one being worried by his teeth. You watched his long hair fall into his face. You simply watched Beomgyu in his zone, not noticing when he stopped playing.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes focused and met his deep brown ones, your lips tensing as you tried to seem attentive.

"Yeah? Yeah, that was good, let's add that in," you spoke quickly.

"Cool," Beomgyu then stood up and reached behind you to switch off the amp. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing in again when his chest and neck nearly brushed across your face. His warm hand dropped to your shoulder, giving you a casual pat.

"Why don't you sit at the computer and keep replaying the recoding while I write down the chords," he suggested.

"Okay, sure," you stood up in the cramped space and there was barely room for you two to switch places. Beomgyu's hands instinctively came up to your waist to steady you as he brushed past you. Your breath hitched but you said nothing as you sat down at his desk and started the recording.

Your combined melody filled the small room and you found yourself nodding along. You hated to admit it but you liked it much more with Beomgyu's additions. You played it several times while he wrote down the chords.

"Right, awesome," he drawled in his dialect after he was finished. "I have to get dressed and head out now, but if you want we can meet up again later today. I won't be done until quite late but I sleep late anyway."

"How late are we talking," you asked suspiciously.

"I would be done about 11, we could meet back here," Beomgyu offered.

You hesitated for a second. It was a lot later than what you considered acceptable but at the same time you didn't trust Beomgyu. You weren't sure you would get any more time out of him than this.

"Okay, deal. Message me when you're done and I'll head over."

"Cool, here's my number," Beomgyu grabbed your phone to type his own number in and called himself. "You okay to let yourself out?"

He left the studio and went into the room across, which you guessed was probably his bedroom. You copied the new files onto your USB before you packed up your things and left the studio as well. On the way you saw that Beomgyu's bedroom door was ajar. You saw him standing with his back to the door as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head. Your lips tensed into a line as you tried to not to make any noise and not even to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"See you later, Y/N."

You stood frozen in place as your eyes traced the lines of his back muscles to his pretty shoulders, not missing his toned arms flexing as he reached up to push the t-shirt over his head. Your gaze trailed back down his body to his hips where his bottoms were slung low, exposing the two cute dimples at his lower back. He didn't look like he was wearing anything underneath.

Beomgyu dropped his shirt to the floor and you suddenly darted down the corridor, panicked that he would turn around and see you. His bottoms dropped down just as he heard his front door open and shut.

[lacharcutiere]

I'm back way sooner than I'd expected, sorry for spamming you with another request! Hcs (separate) again please? Bokuto, Miya twins and Kuroo were teaching their s/o how to play volleyball but midway through the lesson s/o accidentally got distracted by their glorious thighs and asses lmao. After a while the guys realized what's happening when they noticed s/o's stare on them. Thank you very much!

distractions [lil bit pg-13, bokuto kōtarō, miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō]

tings // sfw but a lil naughty, fluff, canonverse, everyone's at least 18 here :)

hello again & it’s totally cool !! keep spamming lolol i enjoy the interaction !! also omg i love the idea because i myself have thiccy thighs :) i feel like this got a little repetitive because i kinda ran out of ideas but anyway,,,

also whoops this took me foreverrrrr but i hope u find it anon !!

☾𓆙𓂻

bokuto kōtarō

you guys have a long weekend and after the first day you and this insanely hyperactive boy run out of ideas of what to do

so you suggest that he teach you to play volleyball and obvi he's super excited

kō actually sneaks you guys into the gym since he's got a key (n like, if you did happen to get caught, who could stay mad at him?)

it's kind of late at night when you guys go since either way, he wants to do his best not to get you in trouble lol

you do actually want to learn and stay (mostly) focused for the first bit, until kō decides he wants a water break

so you sit on the bleachers and wait for him while he goes and grabs a water bottle out of the club room

but when he sits down next to you,,,,

that squish thing that thick thighs do when ppl with them sit down

yeah

his do that

you kinda don't even realize you're staring until you hear a little laugh and a "what?" and look up to see him leaning back on the row of seats behind him

and you respond by just smiling and reaching out to squish his thigh

he doesn't really process what's going on at first, like he just kinda looks at you blankly for a few seconds

and then he reaches out and squishes your thigh back and ummm long story short baby boy gets a little grabby and you end up making out on the bleachers lol and maybe riding his thigh

miya atsumu

tsum tsum's been pretty busy lately and hasn't gotten to see you a ton the past couple weeks, so he decides to skip practice and surprise you one day

he did not expect you to go off on him for it lmao

but once you stop to take a breath, he points out that there's no point in going all the way back to the gym now; he's already missed like half of it and it's easier to come up with an excuse for missing a day than it is for showing up like an hour late

so you're like, "fine, i guess," and then you have the wonderful idea that if he's not gonna show up to practice, maybe he could at least get some in by teaching you

"are you kidding lmao, you suck, how is that gonna be practice?" "stfu tsumu"

so he's agrees and decides to demonstrate some basic stuff first, just so you can get an idea of how much you suck compared to him what it should look like

you're seated on the ground watching him when you notice how his thighs flex when he jumps and how tight that ass is

you don't even realize you're staring until he goes, "okay, now you try," and you go, "try what," your eyes still fixed on his legs

it takes him a second to realize what exactly you were looking at and he thinks it's the funniest fucking thing lmao, and he turns around and like, smacks his ass or attempts to throw it back or something until you're laughing so hard your stomach cramps

you don't end up playing volleyball because 1) by the time you manage to stop laughing you're literally sore and 2) tumu's missed you the past week and now he just wants to hear you laugh more 💕

miya osamu

you can hear the boys practicing out back when you get to the miya's to hang out with samu, and out of curiosity you head over to watch since you rarely get to watch them practice at school and the vibes during actual games just aren't the same

samu sees you and is about to head inside to get showered and changed so you guys can hang out

you surprise both of them by asking if you can join instead

(atsumu complains that it's unfair that it's him versus the two of you and you have to shut him up by pointing out that you're probably gonna end up dragging osamu down because you've never played before)

it's not going too badly until samu suggests that you have a try at serving

which means that he's standing several feet in front of you

which means that you have a very clear view of his ass

he's also wearing grey gym shorts, which does not help (or does help a lot, depending on how you look at it)

atsumu notices you staring first, since osamu has his back to you

you go "fuck this" and run up and smack samu's ass LMAO

he turns around and just stares at you for a good few minutes and then drags you inside

atsumu's probably all like 😏😏😏

but for good reason

ah ha ha haaa

kuroo tetsurō

you wander into the gym in the last fifteen minutes of practice—you and tetsu had planned to meet outside but you'd gotten there early and didn't have much else to do

he looks over when he hears the door open and gives you a quick wave before turning his attention back to practicing, and you find yourself a seat on the bleachers

a few moments later he excuses himself for a water break and walks over to you, smiling like he's about to do something you're not going to enjoy

"what?" "what?" "why are you looking at me like that?" and he doesn't answer; he just finishes his water and drags you onto the court

"tetsu, what the fuck are you doing?"

"come practice :)))"

"i don't even play—" and then he shoves a ball into your hands. where'd it come from? who knows.

"shouldn't you be the one practicing? don't you, like, have a game this weekend?"

he assures you it's fine, there're only like ten minutes left of practice anyway, and shoves you into the rotation

and you don't really do much, at least until you narrowly miss getting smacked in the head with the ball because you're too busy staring at him, watching the way he moves, gym shorts clinging to his sweaty skin, and thinking about sitting on his lap on the train back to your place after this

"woah, woah, pay attention!" he laughs and you look up to meet his eyes, smiling absently. "whatcha looking at?" "nothing :))"

he really has to fight the urge to pull you into the locker room with him after practice lmao

and you do get to sit on his lap on the way home hehe

[skiitter]

Also in my roundabout way I would like to request a Lann ficlet, start with angst but make it happy? or just happy. Or just anything because you are a great writer!!

okay so uh this got away from me but here's 3.8k words of lann pining after the commander and being an idiot in love.

He is not staring. He is restringing his longbow after their latest run in with the remaining demons still lingering in the area, that's it. He is absolutely not staring at his two companions huddled together across the fire. He is not watching with rapt, singular focus at their every interaction, seeking answers in her soft words, his sardonic remarks. The Aasimar gestures rudely with his hands, and she laughs loud, the chorus of it echoing through the empty ramparts. When Daeran dips his head low to whisper in her ear, the skin of her neck flushes and Lann forces himself to look away.

He's pretty sure they're sleeping together. It's hard to know for sure, thanks to his complete lack of experience in interpersonal relationships, not to mention his one and only lover having been someone he'd known since birth. Wenduag was a blunt edge of expectation, and Lann always knew exactly what was happening between them. When it comes to the Commander and Daeran, however, he isn't totally sure.

That unknowing, that gray area of wretched hope, is killing him. Falling for her was not on the agenda, seeing as she'll live for hundreds of years and he's lucky if he's got a decade left. Not to mention that she's (probably) gonna save the world and he's just some Mongrel who's legacy won't extend beyond the small role he's played in the crusade. He's never been a glutton for punishment, what with life underground being horrid enough already, but there is a sweet sting in accepting his unrequited love for her that he can't shake. It drives him, despite it's doomed end, to do whatever he can for her fight. If he cannot give her his heart, he will give her his life.

"You're staring," Seelah whispers, her hulking form crouched next to him as she sharpens her longsword.

"Can you blame me? Looking forlornly into the campfire is just one of my many talents."

Seelah chuckles and jerks her head slightly towards the Commander and Daeran. "Oh you're looking forlornly alright, but it's not at the flames. You should talk to her."

"I do talk to her. I talk to her everyday. Are you saying you don't? Honestly Seelah, she's your commander, you--"

"Fine fine, play coy. I'm just saying Lann, we could die at any minute. Do you really not want her to know how you feel?"

Lann swallows, the ugly reminder of mortality and how the sword strung above him dangles far lower than the Commander's tightening the sinew around his heart. "Sh--she doesn't need any more burdens. The Commander's got enough going on, what with that pesky Worldwound thing." He spares one last glance before turning his body away, enduring the biting cold as the heat of the fire leaves his scaled skin. "She doesn't want to deal with a lovesick Mongrel and really, who could blame her?"

"How could you possibly know what she wants if you don't talk to her?"

"Because it's not her wants I'm concerned with, it's her needs. And she needs me to be good ol' reliable Lann. She needs me to shoot my arrows and kill the baddies. She needs--she needs something she can count on and that something is me."

The Abyss happens all at once and it's a miserable experience for them all. Their time in Drezen made him soft, he thinks, because the camp at the Nexus is horrifically uncomfortable. The ground is somehow colder and harder than any other he's slept on and no amount of fire really chases away the shadows.

They spend a significant amount of time in Alushinyrra, and a significant amount of money staying at the Bad Luck Tavern just to avoid the discomforts of the Nexus. It's on one such expensive stay that a group of frankly moronic thugs try and rob the Commander while she sleeps. Her ever-present and ruthlessly protective Velociraptor dispenses them in quick measure, ripping the throat out of the final victim before Lann even has his bow drawn.

Up until that point they'd opted for three rooms, in groups of two, but they downsize to one after the attack. The Commander's life was hardly in danger but playing with fate isn't something she likes to do, chaotic nature be damned. The tavern owner grumbles but, with a golden incentive, allows them to drag one of the other beds into the room so the sleeping arrangements aren't quite so cramped.

Ember curls up into the Commander's side, her sisterly affection having transformed them from companions to near family. Woljif takes the other bed, offering half of it to Regill. The severe gnome answers him with a severe look and Woljif extends the offer to Lann instead. He glances at Daeran but the Aasimar is already tucking himself into the space between the Commander and the wall. With not a small amount of jealousy, Lann resigns himself to his fate and joins Woljif.

A soft rustling pulls him from a restless slumber some time later and Lann wakes just in time to see the Commander whisper something to Regill, who is stationed at the door, before slipping into the hallway with Daeran in tow. He watches them until they vanish and, as he looks away, makes uncomfortable eye-contact with the gnome. Regill's face is as impassive as always, but Lann feels guilty for some reason, like a kid caught with his hand in the rat cage.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Regill asks him as they head out the next morning. Well, not morning since there is no sun or sky or joy in Alushinyrra.

"Hard to say, this city does tend to be a bit on the rough side," Lann responds.

"The Commander has assured me any physical relationships she has with the party aren't going to be a problem." It's not a question but it's not not a question and Lann looks around to make sure the others aren't paying attention.

"We uh, we aren't in a physical relationship?"

"I know."

"Riiiiiight."

"But you want to be, which is arguably worse. So I'll ask you again, is this going to be a problem?"

It occurs to Lann that he should probably do a slightly better job of keeping his apparently obvious feelings on the Commander to himself. "Uh, no. No, it's not." Regill doesn't seem satisfied but then again, when does he ever? "Is uh, I mean, are the Commander and Daeran--"

"I do not gossip," Regill snarls. "Bother the thief with nonsense like that."

Lann does not, in fact, bother the thief with nonsense like that. Instead, he pushes down the swelling of affection he feels at every interaction with the Commander and focuses on the mission. It goes well enough, all things considered, until Savamelekh shows up and nearly kills him.

The demon's revelations are a bit too much for his overtaxed heart to bear and the subsequent bender doesn't help at all. When the Commander finds him, though, he just babbles on about wanting to prove to her he can be what she wants, what she needs, and that she can trust him. "I want to be somebody you can count on. I don't have anything to offer apart from my bow and my dumb jokes....and my life. And they're all yours, if you want them." He glances away, shame and discomfort crushing him from the inside out. "But I doubt you do, not now that I've let you down."

"....I could never turn my back on someone I care about just like that." She's been talking this whole time but it's these words that register hard and fast. Lann stares at her, and she stares back, and the weight of things unsaid on her face is a blessed curse. He forces a smile, bashful but steady, and pulls away from the conversation. It's too much to think about, especially because hope is not his friend, despite its insistence on hanging around.

Later, back at camp, away from everyone but her sharp-eyed Velociraptor, the Commander comes for him. He's not avoiding her, not that he really could thanks to the nature of their new normal in the Abyss, but he's not not avoiding her either. He's sitting at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the sea of fire and the city of demons. She sits beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and they are quiet for a long time.

"Next time I get drunk and come to pour my heart out to you, I'll jot down notes first," he says lightly, glancing at her. Her face is hard to read, not the open expression she'd given him back at the tavern, but he knows her well enough to know she's bothered by something. "I'm kidding of course. I'd never do that -- I don't do notes, I improvise."

"Why do you do that?"

"Improvisation is just one of my many skills, honed from my illustrious life as a Mongrel hunter. Sometimes, you got out to hunt for some rats and end up fighting a--"

"Lann, stop." He does, if only because her tone is firm. "Why do you always demean what you say with humor?"

"I'm....funny like that?"

She scowls at him and her raptor lets out a soft hiss. He's pretty sure they're connected, somehow, because otherwise that would be just plain freaky. "I love that you're funny, Desna knows we need something lighthearted with Regill around, but sometimes I--" She falters, his rocksteady monument of a Commander, and it scares him. "Sometimes I just want you to tell me how you feel."

His heart races, and hope is such a dangerous, cruel thing. "I did tell you how I felt...I meant what I said, back at the tavern. I...I'd do anything for you." The confession settles between them, demanding to be addressed.

"For me, or for the crusade, for the cause?" She's asking him a different question, he thinks.

"I--"

"Because Lann, I--you are--"

"What about Daeran?" He says it in a rush, because he can't handle whatever it is she's trying to confess.

"What about Daeran?"

"Aren't you--ya know--"

"Lann, would you do anything for me or for the crusade? To whom are you pledging your life too? Is it me? I need to know because I cannot carry on like this."

More shame, some more guilt, all for Lann. Of course his unwanted affections made her uncomfortable, of course he took her caring treatment of him to mean more than it was supposed to. He wants to leave, because he also kind of wants to cry. "Commander..."

"Not commander. Lann, please for this moment can I just be a person to you?"

She's crying, for some reason, and he doesn't know what to do. "You're always a person to me. I--you know that."

"To whom do you pledge your life?"

In the end, he knows what's more important. "The--the crusade." Lann knows that she needs to be able to rely on him without thinking he's reading into her every action, her every word. His wants are second to her needs, just as it should be.

Her face crumples, though, and the twist of her mouth breaks his heart. "Right. Okay. Of course." She stands, dusting her robes off and refuses to look him in the eye. Lann realizes immediately that he's said the wrong thing, despite his efforts to do the exact opposite.

"Commander--"

"Have a good night, Lann. Thank you for….thank you for clearing that up."

Her raptor snarls at him when he stands up to stop her and she is gone.

The next day, she announces they are heading deep into the heart of the Abyss. And, for the first time since he followed her out of the dark and into the sun, she leaves him behind.

Six months. Six long, bloody, dangerous months. He runs point with Greybor, struggling to keep the Commander's hoard of refugees safe, and spends each watch with Solsiel, pointedly not talking about their missing leader.

Several times the idea of her death comes up and he stops fighting against it. He's pretty sure they'd leave but there is no where to go. Groups of demons hunt them for sport and it's a miracle he's able to keep himself in one piece. Nenio is insufferable. Seelah is too positive. He misses Ember, and Wolfji. He misses Regill and his cold practicality. He misses the Commander and the smile she used to shoot him when he'd struck down an enemy in their path.

Eventually, it's just the five of them left. Every other life she'd saved has been systematically eradicated by the horrors of the Abyss. Still, they wait because what else are they supposed to do?

She returns, of course, because she's more myth than woman these days. What was six horrific months in hell for those left behind, was less than two weeks for them. Two weeks. The Commander doesn't cry when she sees the devastation that's been wrought in the wake of her absence. Her left hand trembles, but she stays strong. Just as quickly as they'd come, she shows them the way home.

Drezen is in shambles and it takes another week just to kill the demon forces that have taken their city. In that week, she treats him as warmly as she does Greybor. That is to say, her polite indifference is breaking him.

As things return to normal, and he contends with the loss of his tribe, Lann considers what to do. He's messed up, somehow, and he's spent six months worrying over it. He's pretty sure she wanted him to admit that it was to her he swore his life. He's pretty sure he knows why. A (admittedly short) life spent hunting for things unseen and he completely missed the things she'd tried to say.

He misses her feverishly. She's busy, daily, managing the shambles left of her crusade armies after the Queen had her way with them. The party has yet to leave Drezen since returning and Daeran has yet to leave the Commander's side. Lann feels replaced, usurped, and he cannot take it anymore.

Her door is shut, but there is candlelight spilling out underneath. Before the courage leaves him, he knocks and calls out her name.

"Lann?" She opens the door and he's half expecting to see Daeran, arrogant and naked, sprawled across her bed. Instead it's just her, exhausted and anxious, looking at him with a guarded expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ya know, just everything." He tries for humorous but it comes out pathetic and they both frown. "Can I--can I come in?"

She steps aside, allowing him entrance. He's never been here, in all his time in Drezen, and while he's not totally sure what he expected, it's still a surprise. Her quarters are small, smaller than the house she'd given him upon their initial taking of the city. The desk is covered in maps and missives, and her gear is in a pile by the door. The raptor has a bed, set up beside her own, and Lann is pretty sure it looks far more comfortable than the Commander's. There is nowhere to sit so they both just stand there, awkward and uncomfortable, as she closes the door.

"What's going on? Have you heard from the clan?"

That particular sting of worry rolls over him and Lann shakes his head to push it away. "No, not yet. All quiet on the Mongrel front."

"I'm sorry, Lann." She reaches out for a moment, as if to comfort him, but stops herself short. "We'll find them, I promise."

"I didn't come here to talk about the clan."

"Okay."

"Boy, is this awkward. Uhm," he clears his throat to buy time. "Do you remember that last conversation we had?"

Her expression becomes an echo of the one she wore that night. "I do."

"I uh, I would like to do it over again."

The Commander narrows her eyes. "Why?"

Lann runs a hand through his hair, and stares at the wall beside her because if he looks at her, he'll fall apart. "I think I messed it up."

"Lann, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I kinda do."

She shakes her head. "It's okay I know that--what you said it's--we're fine."

"You were gone for six months, ya know. Six shitty, ugly months. You've never left me behind before." It's not an accusation but she flinches anyway. "I had a lot of time to think. Not a lot else to do, really. Well, aside from entertaining Nenio and rejecting Camellia's frankly terrifying propositions."

"She asked to sleep with you?" The Commander is suddenly furious and Lann is shameless in how warm her indignation makes him feel.

"Well, not in so many words and really, I'm kind of dense, but sneaking into my bed at night was--"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--what?"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--I don't know what you think sex with a Mongrel is like--"

"You slept together?" Her fury simmers down and turns her face cold.

"No! This isn't about that. I don't want to talk about Camellia. It was only once and--no. She didn't--we--nothing happened."

"You could--"

"Commander, excuse the insubordination here, but please shut up. This isn't easy and I'm losing my nerve." She frowns, but stays silent. "I want to change my answer."

"To what question?"

"To the one you asked me that night. I lied."

"What?" The inflection is too hopeful and Lann forces himself to look at her.

"It's not for the crusade or the cause or the world. It's--it's for you. My life, I mean. I'm pledging it to you. I misread things, I didn't understand what you meant. I--my life, my bow, my dumb jokes, it's yours." He struggles not to fidget, or downplay what he's saying with humor. She's staring at him, and she's crying but this time he knows why. "And my heart. If--if you want it. It's yours."

"Lann," she whispers and closes the gap between them. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his face, and they are trembling. It's a perfect match to his own shaking nerves. "Are you sure?"

He laughs, and it's watery. "It's hardly something precious to me. It's just all I have to give you and--and well really, it's already yours."

"How long?"

"Ugh no, the last thing you need to know is how long I've been pining over you."

"It was the Gargoyle attack for me, the one at the camp." She confesses it so easily, and he's rendered speechless. "When it was you that came to find me and tell me everyone was taken, my very first thought was relief; relief because they didn't take you." She presses her forehead to his own, their noses brushing. "From the moment we left for Colyphyr, I regretted leaving you behind. I could barely focus for the first few days because I was so worried about you. Every day I woke up, expecting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren't there and it was my fault. I was so mad at myself for letting my stupid feelings get in the way but the thought of having you near and knowing you'd never want me that way it--" her voice breaks and he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have realized what you were asking, I--"

"No, I'm sorry," She pulls back to look at him. "I'm so sorry I didn't just come right out and ask you how you felt. I was just scared, scared of rejection and what I would do if you said no."

"I would never--I love you." He reddens from ear to tail and he immediately wants to take it back.

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Well, I didn't really want to just come out and say it. I was hoping for a little more romance. Some candles, maybe a rat shaped pastry or two. We could probably get someone to play--"

"I love you, too." She captures his mouth with her own before he can stumble over anymore words and Lann relents happily to her efforts. She kisses him like he's always wanted to kiss her, all passion and tenderness, and disgustingly sincere affection. Their arms wind around one another and she pulls him to her bed.

Lann stops her. "We don't have too, really. I know I'm not exactly easy to look at--"

"Lann. I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention.” She sets him down beside her and once more takes his face in her hands. “Don’t you ever, ever talk about yourself that way again, okay? I love you, all of you, every bit and I want you, in any and every way you’ll let me.” She kissed him again, softly. “We don’t have to rush into anything, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just--just please know that, regardless of what you’ve been told, you’re beautiful and--and I will happily take you to bed every night.”

“Just to bed?” He aims for suggestive and, every bit the archer, he strikes true. “But there are so many other places I wish to be taken.”

“We’ll have a veritable world tour of it, but for now, can I have you here? Because this is all I’ve thought about for months and if I don’t fulfill that fantasy, I may die.”

“Regill would have my head for that.”

“He is possibly the least sexy person you could bring up at this point in time.”

Lann crowds into her, forcing her backwards until he has her pinned beneath him. “Imagine the report I’d have to write: Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade dies because local Mongrel fails to fulfill her sexual fantasies.” He kisses her once before moving his attention down the breadth of her jawline, and onto her neck. Her breath hitches, pressing her body up into his. “Good thing that’ll never happen because I’m a terrible writer.”

“Lann,” it’s nearly a whine, only just, but it’s enough to make him shudder, “please.” He’s always been excellent at following orders and there is no reason to stop now. Whatever she needs, he thinks, whatever she asks, he’ll give. It’s a scary thought, but it’s the only one he’s had for it feels like his whole life. Her hands snake across the skin of his chest, pulling at his armor with frantic hands. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

He relents, and soon they are but a tangled mess of limbs. It’s nothing like he’s known, but he’s ruined forever now. He’s hers, like he has been since that serendipitous moment beneath the ruins of Kenabres, and to his unbelievable shock and surprise, she is his.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction Part 21

Hey ! Chapter 21 is finally available, I look forward to your feedback. Love u 🥰

Chapter 21 : I see how much you’re in love with him

Not wanting to leave the sleeping group unattended, Lance and I decided to wake Nevra up to take over for us. When we explained the situation to him, the vampire let us go without flinching, already on the lookout for the slightest suspicious movement.

Thus, it is without a sound that we headed towards the corridor behind what looked like the reception of the hotel. The latter, really very spacious, included the access door to the service stairs and, at the very back, access to the elevators. I wasn't really paying attention to them when the sliding doors of one of them opened without a sound. Taken aback, the dragon put an arm in front of me to stop my momentum.

- Lance, we agree that electricity doesn't exist on Eldarya, do we ? I questioned him in a weak voice.

Understanding the seriousness of this discovery, the latter gave me a look that was both serious and questioning.

- I don't even know what you're talking about here, he confirmed with a sigh. Elecri what ?

I couldn't stop a smirk from forming on my lips. It was the first time that I saw him not knowing something, even if it was quite normal since it simply didn't exist in his world.

- Electricity. This elevator isn't supposed to be able to open on its own without it, so how come it does ?

The doors of the latter continued to open and close in chilling silence. The dragon was probably going to ask me what an elevator was when a new noise sounded from down the hall, just around the corner. Lance was the first to go, outpacing me by several feet in just a few seconds.

I joined him almost immediately afterwards, but here, no window came to illuminate the room. The only thing I had time to see was the doors of the last elevator closing on a shadow. Automatically, I pressed the button of the nearest device while observing the floor number indicated by that of our intruder, thus making the doors open right in front of me. Hastily, I entered without thinking, pressing my turn on the top floor. Lance ducked behind me just before the doors closed.

The device began to climb with a not very reassuring noise, causing the floor numbers to light up one by one on the board. The dim light in the passenger compartment gave us a glimpse of the cramped size of the elevator shaft.

My teammate's voice echoed close to me, causing me to turn to face him.

- And now, what are we supposed to do ? he asked me, his eyes reproachful. You rushed into it without leaving us the choice, and if it was a trap ?

- Now we're waiting, I told him in a tone that wanted to be sure of myself. The elevator must take us to the top floor, this is where the person who fled us went.

He stood staring at me for a moment without saying anything. I could see that he was trying to understand what I was explaining to him.

- Are you telling me that this machine will take us to the top floor ? Of itself ?

- Humans tend to be lazy, which is understandable when creating such tall buildings. They’re the kings of inventions that aim to make the least effort possible, I argued with a shrug. But elevators aren't supposed to work here, I thought electricity couldn't work on Eldarya...

- You really have to explain to me what you're talking about, Andraste.

Cutting our conversation short, the elevator suddenly jammed, causing the light to flicker until it was completely extinguished. No more sound reached us, the machine had completely stopped.

Lance's deep voice came even closer to me than a moment before.

- And these boxes, they often tend to do that ?

- It can happen, but it's not really a good sign when it does that...

- I should have known, he sighed between his teeth.

Suddenly, the device restarted, resuming its course with bewildering rapidity. The floor buttons flashed frantically as the speed of the climb pushed us hard.

I didn't have time to realize what was happening when Lance shoved me into a corner without warning, shielding me with his large body. His hands gripped my hips firmly in an effort to keep me from losing my balance. In the ambient noise produced by this sudden rise, I was surprised to hear his deep voice resonate against my ear, increasing the adrenaline that was already running through my veins.

- I knew it was a bad idea to follow you, he said in an almost... amused tone ?

- Yet at the time, you didn't seem to hesitate much.

Despite the fear, a smile crossed our respective lips. His hands pressed me closer to him as his eyes shone with a different glow in the surrounding darkness.

- It's true, you really make me do anything.

Suddenly, the elevator came to a screeching halt again. Luckily, Lance's grip kept me from ending up on the ground. He released me slowly as several seconds passed before the doors finally opened. Cautiously, the young man detached himself from me in order to inspect the exterior of the cabin. He nodded to me to let me know I could follow him.

Following in his footsteps, I discovered with relief that we were on the roof of the building. A gust of icy wind shook my hair just below my face as I stood stunned at what lay before us.

In the halo of snow-capped mountains bathed in moonlight, several oversized draflayels circled in the sky just above us. Blending into the colors of what looked like the aurora borealis, the companions were slowly flapping their wings when one of them caught sight of us out of the corner of their eye. The latter let out a weak cry before descending until it landed noisily on the edge of the railing in front of us. It showed no sign of ferocity, even seeming rather attentive to our every move.

Lance and I exchanged a dubious look.

- Andraste...

Surprised, I turned in amazement in the direction of the giant draflayel. This voice...

- Bring the dragon...

The beast was watching us quietly, the light from its back reflecting off its scales.

- You can talk ?

I started to move in its direction when Lance grabbed my wrist, looking visibly lost at my question.

- Andraste, what...

- Please... bring the dragon...

- Lance, it wants you to come to him !

Looking even more lost, he didn't let me go.

- What the hell are you talking about ?

- The draflayel, don't you hear it ? I realized then.

He tightened his fingers around my wrist, confusion growing on his face.

- What, but what are you talking about ? Is it another human thing that I can't understand ?

I shook my head sharply.

- No. I don't know, just trust me. It asks me that you come to it, I tried to explain.

He finally let go of my arm slowly, turning to the companion what never took its eyes off us. Without turning around, he said to me all the same :

- Very well, but it's starting to do a lot of things that you're going to have to explain to me once all this is over.

I smile at his remark before he starts to tread carefully, probably expecting the beast to eventually change its mind and come after us.

I held my breath when he stopped in front of it and slowly reached out his hand in its direction. The dragon seemed fascinated by the being standing before him.

For answer, this one leaned towards him, aiming the top of its skull just under the fingers of the dragon. Tears welled up in my eyes as the voice echoed through me again.

- You are forgiven, dragon...

Then the companion straightened up with all its nimbleness and, with a great flapping of its wings, set off again in the direction of its own.

Lance took several seconds before turning around, probably upset by what had just happened. The draflayels, these companions that the young man had hated so much because of their close link with the dragon race...

When he finally faced me, his eyes widened.

- ANDRASTE ! he exclaimed as he suddenly rushed towards me.

My breathing hitched as cold, rough fingers crashed into my face, clawing at me with their long claws. Coming quickly to our height, Lance while the hand in the hope of catching my wrist again. Instinctively, I leaned towards him while trying to touch him, but when our fingers made contact, the whole scene changed before my eyes, letting the alarmed face of the dragon disappear.

My knuckles closed in the void.

Everything was black.

Looking down, I realized that no hands were hindering me anymore, yet I was still unable to open my mouth, as if an invisible force was keeping it that way

Feeling movement in my back, I turned hastily.

Nevra stood there, looking at me darkly.

- I knew she couldn't. Why did Huang Hua force us to take her with us ? She was always just a drag.

I dodged a movement in his direction when someone answered him right behind me.

- It's worse than I thought, she's not even able to stay with us. She had to be kidnapped.

My stomach knotted violently.

- I could never stand it, Lance continued. And she thinks there's something between us ? Let me laugh.

The two men laughed together, ignoring me royally. Panic slowly took hold of me, I had to get out of here.

Closing my eyes, I squeezed my eyelids as hard as possible to escape this place. It wasn't real, it wasn't possible.

Opening my eyes, I realized that Nevra and Lance had disappeared. The place was...empty. Feeling the pressure release on my mouth, I was able to move freely again.

Damn, but how do I get out of here ?

I was groping in the dark when a baby's cry suddenly sounded in the distance. Without thinking, I headed hastily in the direction of this one, not taking long to reach him.

I then froze in place, my blood freezing.

Sitting on an armchair, a young woman with long brown hair held the child in her arms. She was humming softly what sounded like a lullaby unknown to me.

- Junyn dragon, úvaenu nah vauel, Meym mo payr key nu zeywu opuv waevuel.

The baby began to calm down under the soothing song of the one who held him. When he finally closed his icy blue eyes, I was amazed to see streaks of light and ice running through his little hands.

- My cogoym ne julwm nah vbugyh, Maepyuhm nay wu vu luxloyh.

The young woman finally turned her head towards me, finally seeming to notice my presence. Her large purple-tinted eyes froze me in place.

I couldn't hear anything, only his lips moved silently on the last lines of the song.

- Junyn dragon, úvaenu nah vauel, Meym mo payr key nu zeywu, gûgu wohm fo waefuel.

I fell to my knees in front of her, my breath short.

This girl, she...

With a tender gesture, she slipped a maternal hand on my cheek.

- You have to get out of here, Andraste, she said to me in a suddenly different voice, as if a second, much younger, had mingled with hers.

My eyes widened, unable to move. The face of the young woman changed, letting the scene disappear in order to give way to that of a little girl whom I knew well.

- Ophelia ? I say, more and more confused.

- It's an illusion, Andraste, you're not in reality. You must wake up !

His last words slammed into me, ringing out immensely louder. The air rushed once again violently in my lungs, waking me with a start.

Lying on the cold floor, I found myself in an unfamiliar room.

Was it reality ?

I looked around the room as a memory came back to me. Before we left, Koori explained to me the special power of the kitsune people. Indeed, the latter had the ability to make anyone see the illusion they wanted, the latter materializing the subconscious of the victim. And the more tails the kitsune had, the more powerful it was.

How long had I been under Tenjin's thrall ?

Planting my hand on the mattress to my right, I leaned on it to help me straighten up. When I found myself on my own two feet, my head began to spin for a moment. Dizzy, I rested my forehead on my sweaty palm while sniffling. Bringing my fingers to my nose, I wiped myself before discovering with horror a veritable puddle of blood beading on its bottom.

They were only missing that. These illusions had taken a lot of my energy, my body was already exhausted.

Looking for a solution to stop my bleeding, I discovered a bathroom that overlooked the bedroom. Penetrating into the small room, I began to rummage through the cupboards in search of any handkerchiefs. My prayers were answered when I came across a package.

Once my nose finally stopped bleeding, I turned the knob on the sink mechanically. A strange noise was heard before a whitish and icy water began to flow strongly. Staring into space, I watched the jet for a moment without moving. It was all so... human.

Shaking my head, I leaned over to splash my face. The invigorating temperature soon brought me to my senses.

I had to find the others.

Lance's alarmed look came back to me then. My hands gripped the white ledge in front of me forcefully.

Provided he got out of it safe and sound...

Deciding to pull myself together, I turned off the tap and dried myself on a towel before leaving the room. Cautiously, I surveyed the corridor lulled by the faint light coming from the windows, but I quickly realized that no sign of life seemed to come from this floor.

But what was Tenjin's purpose in leaving me here alone ? I couldn't understand.

One of the doors to the main corridor was ajar, letting me see a different light, even strange, with bluish intonations. Approaching me, I slowly pushed open the door without a sound before inspecting the interior of the room. My mouth dropped open when I realized where the light source was coming from.

As if hollowed out of an invisible wall, a kind of small window overlooking a completely different room seemed to float in the void. All around it, a blue frame of changing shades shone powerfully. I walked forward in complete silence. When I got close enough, I could make out the room on the other side. It was... ordinary. Simple, like any living room in a modest home. And yet...

Yet, I felt attracted by what I saw. Leaning to the side, I discovered a new part of this living room which had until then remained inaccessible to me.

My heart skipped a few beats when I finally understood. Further to the side, proudly sat a television screen much more advanced than those I had known. Running my eyes over the other elements, my amazement continued to grow as I discovered many more familiar elements.

Posters, magazines and even a computer appeared right under my dumbfounded gaze. My hands approached the small window that fueled all my desires when a clearing of the throat abruptly interrupted me.

- I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Startled, I turned sharply towards the person I hadn't heard coming.

- It didn't take you long to recognize your world, did it ? Tenjin asked me calmly. To answer your questions, it’s indeed a portal that leads directly to Earth. On the other hand, I don't know if it’s practicable, but you can always test it yourself.

- If it’s practicable ? I raised without really understanding.

An evil smile tugged at his sharp-toothed lips, sending a shiver of anguish down my spine.

- So, the Guard didn't tell you how portals work ?

I said nothing, not wanting to let him savor this pleasure. The latter began a slow walk in the large room.

- Well, not that it surprises me, to be honest. I heard that Miiko gave you a pretty... rough life, he concluded with a raised eyebrow. And since everyone knows you're the savior of Eldarya, no one wants to see you go, that's understandable.

Seeing that the kitsune had its back to me for a moment, I took the opportunity to grab a vase behind me, holding it in the darkness of the room.

- Know that the portals are unstable, my dear. Any object is able to pass through them, but their very composition could be modified. So what about living beings ? he said in an almost theatrical tone, opening his arms wide. If you crossed it, you would have quite the possibility of returning home, just as your being could simply decompose, or even find itself stuck between two worlds. But from the look on your face, I suspect no one ever bothered to tell you.

I swallow with difficulty. Was he telling the truth ? I knew portals were nearly impossible to open, but what about once they were ? If he was telling the truth, I had been this close to jumping in, without hesitation. The sight of Earth was so inviting... what if he hadn't interrupted me ?

The cold sweats continued to run down my back. I shouldn't trust him.

Let alone approach this portal.

But even if he was telling me the truth, what was his interest in revealing it to me ?

- You look rather lost to me, little human. You wonder why am I telling you all this, don't you ?

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself not to back down. I had to regain my composure.

- What are we doing here, Tenjin ? I asked him defensively. Where’s Lance ?

- Are you talking about the dragon ? he asked me in turn, his voice suddenly growling. He didn't really appreciate that I wanted to spend some time alone with you, but don't worry, I took care of him.

My fingers tightened forcefully on the vase at my back as nausea gripped me. My thoughts mixed with confusion.

What if something had really happened to him ?

- What did you do to him ? I can't help crying out.

- Calm down sweetie, he's not dead, if that's what you're worried about. Let's just say I had to use my power of illusion a little more... harshly, towards him. But this situation is quite amusing, you’ll agree. After all the stories I heard about your adventures seven years ago, I bet you would have sought revenge on him. But surprisingly...

The Snow Land King approached me dangerously, dropping his sentence as his fingers began to caress my arm. This gesture was none the less devoid of any tenderness.

- ... I see how much you’re in love with him.

His last words caught me totally off guard, so much so that my hands let go of the object which crashed loudly to the ground. His grin twisted a little more at the sound of the pieces of ceramic splintering around us, while the beating of my heart twisted my eardrums.

In love with him ?

- The dragon who killed his own brother, who tried to decimate the entire population of Eldarya... So that's what you like ?

My jaws clenched in anger. In the palm of my hands, my light began to beat frantically.

- This all goes back a long time, Tenjin. And if I'm not mistaken, my feelings have nothing to do with you.

Its claws slowly moved up my arm until they stopped just below my chin. I swallowed hard under his dark gaze.

- Such a beautiful woman, in the arms of such an ugly dragon... You won't blame me if it bothers me a bit.

I had to play his game, he didn't see my powers crackle violently.

- And how could I... fix this ? I articulated with difficulty.

While scratching my skin, the kitsune's fingers carefully pushed my hair back to slide it behind my shoulder. In horror, I felt his lips brush against my ear.

- You could become my queen, Andraste.

_________

Thanks to @slowiedrakie for the lullaby ❤️

You can find it in her fanfiction on Lance “Play with Fire” !

The lullaby is written in the original language, but the translation is unfortunately in French aha

(Chapter 22)

[shelby-love]

SIRIUS BLACK

A little Bit of Amortentia

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none this is a certified fluff piece (2.3K words)

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this! Harry Potter is such a great world, and I’d love to explore more of it. Requests for HP are OPEN!!

P.S for everyone wondering Remus is actually my favorite out of the Marauders

~

"Well I still think you're missing out," Lilly stated after a long rant and because of how sweet she was, she had decided to stop her mouth right at that sentence.

You only laughed lightly, pushing through the student body with Lily Evans hot on your robe. "Sneaking out to Hogsmeade is something I'm fine with missing out on."

She shook her head, determination settling hard in her brow. "That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" You asked, hugging your textbook closer to your chest. When you noticed that the auburn-haired girl was no longer by your side you bunched your brows together and turned around. "Lily? Lily, what are you doing?"

Her eyes were wide, bright green eyes blazing at you. "You seriously have no idea?"

You had idea of course. So much so that you felt embarrassed by the mere thought of it…

Him.

"Come Lily. We're late for Potions."

She shook her head and followed you reluctantly, only because she knew that your professor would surely be disappointed if you two showed up late. Lily and you were after all, Horace Slughorn's favorite students.

"This isn't over," She mumbled.

Perhaps for her it wasn't. Lily Evans tended to see the best in all people. It was the good in her that made her give in to James Potter little after Christmas this year after hating him her entire schooling at Hogwarts.

"He matured a lot," she would tell you, and while that might have been true for James it surely wasn't true for the boy you laid your desires upon.

Sirius Black.

Either he was purposely ignoring you, or he really was a dimwit.

***

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals." Horace Slughorn informed, keeping a safe distance from the steaming love potion. The rest of the girls in the class not so much. Each of them neared the potion little by little with a boy in mind. Lily and you both shared the same thoughts as those love-obsessed girls – only you didn't show it. Despite having boys in mind, Lily and you stood put.

"Lily, dear, how about you come here and tell us what you smell?"

You hard-pressed your shoulder against hers as she smiled shyly, obvious to what she was going to smell. James Potter stood at the other end of the assembly of students, looking at his lovely girlfriend with pure adornment.

For a second, they had you wondering if you could ever find love like that.

"Do you know why I asked Lily to tell us what she smells?" Horace asked, sending you a look that had a simple meaning.

"Because the potion is supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us…" You answered quickly, just like he wanted you to.

"Marvelous Y/N. Good job," Slughorn praised you whilst ushering Lily to tell you all what she smelt. From the corner of your eye you managed to catch James' sly smirk as his eyes darted from you, to his very uninterested friend.

Sirius Black.

You swallowed, focusing your eyes on your best friend that stood in front of the potion, holding her hair so it doesn’t fall into the potion with a face as red as a tomato. "Vanilla, freshly cut oranges and –"

He cheeks flamed even more if that was even possible. She dashed away from the love potion and stood back next to you without revealing the third thing, although everyone knew already. James was grinning like an idiot. "What was the third smell?"

She shyly turned her mouth to your ear, "James' quidditch uniform."

You laughed out loud before Lily shushed you down frantically.

It was all fun and games until Horace called out for you, "Y/N would you mind telling us what you smell? Don't be shy now, come."  

A part of you wanted to say "Yes, professor I would mind." but the other more rational, and smarter part of you had tied your hands behind your back in defeat. Lily gave you a push and sooner than later you found yourself standing over the love potion.

"I-I smell…" You inhaled slowly, the potion's fumes filling you up. Several different scents found their way into your nostrils, making you have a hard time deciphering them because of the sensual overdrive they gave you. "Roses…the smell of sea and-"

"Oh no," you mumbled, barely audible for everyone but yourself.

"Was there something you wanted to say dear?" Horace asked, having heard your mumbling barely.

"No…I um, smell petrichor," You stated somewhat awkwardly but very, very quickly. "You know, um, when the r-rain hits the ground…"

"Ah, yes," realization dawned upon your professor. "A lovely smell. A lovely smell indeed. Very well, miss Y/LN thank you. You may go back to your place."

Lily Evans waited for you, beaming, "Mind telling me what the third smell was?"

"Shut it Lily."

"But I told you mine!"

***

You glanced at the sign above the pink looking door and sighed. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, it said. You had known about this small tea shop that was located on a side road off the High Street in Hogsmeade Village even before you had arrived at Hogwarts. A boy from Hufflepuff had taken you there on a date once, sometime during your fifth year. It wasn't an especially pleasant memory, being cramped and surrounded by snogging couples at only 15 with a boy you didn't particularly like that way. Nevertheless, it had happened, and there was nothing you could do about the lingering memory.

The overall cute place was owned by Madam Puddifoot; the same woman who dearly welcomed you in the moment you stepped through the door.

You hoped to spot Lily there, after all that's why you were there. When the front of your little notebook changed under the influence of the Protean charm, you knew it was Lily instantly. While the Marauders had their own tricks, maps and such, Lily and you had thought of something far more practical. It would do you good, the charm, as it was expected to be known by every student that wants to take the N.E.W.T.

A win-win situation that was.

But although Lily Evans was nowhere to be seen, you still decided to sit down, trusting her not to pull any tricks on you. Save for the snowy weather, your day has been good so far and you didn’t want anyone to disrupt it.

Cautiously, you sat down and leaned against the plush sofa, discarding your scarf and coat along the way.

"What can I get ya lovely?" A sweet woman asked, hearts practically swimming within her irises. A pale pink apron with daisies was secured tightly around her waist, dolling her up prettily.

"I actually won't be staying, I'm waiting for-" You started, although you were sure in the fact you were going to have to buy gilly water at the very least. Even waiting comes at a price here.

But that didn't seem to be the case as the bells jingle and a dark figure waltzes through. The ladies' man, a member of the Marauders that had the most beautiful features pursued by impeccable dark hair and grey eyes walked in without a care in the world. Sirius didn't know it, but he had your toes curling every time.

You immidiately glanced around the cute shop, seeing nothing but loving couples.

No lone girl in the shop save for you.

Realization struck you in the gut and you swallowed, wanting now more than ever to disappear into a hole…or turn into a little bird and fly away.

His eyes swept across the stuffed shop, getting attention of several girls who were obviously there on a date. Boys exchanged distasteful glances between themselves, sensing Sirius to be an equal competitor that could easily give them a run for their money. "Y/N?"

You dared to say his voice softened upon seeing you. "Sirius."

Sirius' smile widened teasingly. It looked like the smile he would give his best of friends.

But you didn't want that. Not that you would tell him that.

He glanced around the shop once again before slipping into the free chair opposite of you. Without a care in the world, he stripped his snowy coat off his shoulders, his muscles tensing under the movements.

You swallowed.

"I'll have some butterbeer thank you," Sirius said, pulling out a generous amount of sickles for the waiting waitress you forgot was even standing there.

"And the lovely lady?" She mused, giving you a wink.

"Pumkin juice." You choke out.

Like a real gentleman, Sirius halted your attempt to pay for your drink with a raised hand and a wink.

Why does everyone keep winking?

You shook your head at the rogue thought.

"4 sickles young lad."

Sirius handed her the coins and she disappeared, leaving a trail of literal hearts whisking underneath her steps. "Talk about exaggeration."

Sirius' low chuckle at your random comment had you flustered immediately.

"So –" You both voiced at the same time.

"No, you first." You said quickly, brushing some misplaced strands of hair out of the way.

"You can go fi-"

You gave Serius the look you would usually give Remus and James many times on many different occasions; the one that said not to argue with you. Only this time it felt like a completely different look. It intrigued the stubborn boy even more; dragging him deeper into the pit of feelings he had for you.

"Fine," he said, casually twining his fingers atop the table. "I have a question."

"Um…o-kay."

He smiled at your nervousness and decided at that moment to just blurt out the question that's been nagging him since it happened. "What did you smell during potions yesterday?"

"Y-you mean when I smelled the Amortentia?" The strongest love potion ever created that had the ability to reveal ones biggest attractions with a simple sniff. “That potion?”

"Mhmm," he said. "If you tell me what you smelled, I'll tell you what I smelled."

"You must be bloody joking," You exclaimed. Almost everyone knew that you smelled someone. Not just the rain and roses. Someone.

Unlike with Lily, they had no idea who it was.

No one knew save for Lily who probably told James.

Who probably told Remus?

Remus, Peter…

Sirius.

A million thoughts raced through your head. What at first was a blind date will turn out to be the biggest prank the Marauders ever pulled on someone. The biggest prank in Marauders history. You were sure of it.

"I-I should go," you muttered, grabbing your bag and coat in a haste to get out.

Sirius' eyes went wide in alarm, "What are you doing, Y/N? Where are you going?"

"Away from you," You said sternly. "I don't plan on being your new plaything so just leave me alone."

"Woah, woah, woah. Why would you think that?" He asked with what looked like genuine confusion as he held your hands in a vise grip to stop you from leaving.

"B-because…" Words stopped coming once you realized.

Telling him the reason behind it would ruin everything.

"Because you like me?"

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened to the size of a quidditch snitch. No, a bludger. "I don't know what to say to that."

Sirius outright laughed at you and your attempt to conceal what you both already knew, "Look…"

You swallowed.

"I like you too Y/N."

"I know, so let's just forget this ever happen- Wait what did you just say?"

The two of you were, unbeknownst to you in that moment, holding hands atop the cute table, looking like a real couple at that moment to anyone who walked into the shop.

"I like you," He repeated slowly, more audibly for you to comprehend this time. "I know I've been a…"

"Bully," You butted in quickly.

"No I wasn't!"

"Severus begs to differ," You reminded.

"Whatever," Sirius brushed you off, tightening his hold on your two hands. Warmth seemed to come off him in waves, making it all the more comfortable to be in his hold. No wonder girls fawned around him. "What I'm trying to say is – the four of us were idiots, and you were the girl I thought I didn't deserve."

You almost melted.

"So, when I saw what James has with Lily," He confessed. "I wanted that…but with you."

"So why didn't you come up to me?"

"Thought you'd reject me," He said quickly.

"True."

The way he looked at you had you tumbling down your brain for word, "B-but you've changed… And I like you too Sirius."

"I'd like to take you out somewhere else," Sirius proposed. "If you'd have me."

"Of course," You smiled, for the first time freely. "I'd like that very much."

Never in a million years would you have guessed this would be happening; Sirius standing behind you, helping you with your coat…

And holding your hand on the way out.

"You still didn't tell me."

“Tell you what?”

"What you smelled in the Amortentia."

The question didn't sound so attacking as it did 10 minutes ago, and you felt like you could answer it with more ease. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"Fine," You stopped somewhere in the middle of the square, feeling quite brave and bold. "You."

He didn't look surprised, maybe relieved more than surprised. The relief shone in his grey eyes, you could see it. His long black hair blew against the wind that swept through Hogsmeade in a wildly matter. Sirius seemed closer now more than ever as he gazed into your eyes. Whilst you probably looked crazy in the cold wind, the weather only seemed to compliment the once a big troublemaker before you.

"Good."

You creased your brows, "You didn't tell me what you smelled."

Sirius chuckled, "You of course."

Pleased with his answer, you let him do something you've been dreaming about for quite some time.

He kissed you.

The kiss felt electrical, making your body go haywire. Sparks, as cliché as they sound, they were there, present from the moment the kiss started and until it ended. Sirius had his warm hand against your cold cheek, bringing you closer than ever before.

You hadn't shared this with any other boy save for the one you were with right now.

You didn't have what Lily and James did because their love was theirs and theirs only.

Sirius and you will build a love of your own. Something characteristic to you two only. Here in Hogsmeade, or wherever in the world. A long life was ahead of you and you, now more than ever, felt like you could do anything.

Even pass the N.E.W.T.

~

Tags (general (all posts)): @fofisstilinski​​ @short-potato​​ @miranda0102​​  @httphiddlestan​​ @caromichaela​​ @xx-missunicorn-xx​​ @jemmakates​​ @theravenclawmarauder​​ @httphiddlestan​​ @tclaerh​​ @chefdoeuvre​​

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MASTERLIST

[gintokisimp]

Happy Birthday Gin-san!

One-Shot about Gintoki's 30th birthday. Tsukuyo has a special present for the clueless Gintoki.  The setting of the fic is an already lightly romantic established GinTsu relationship. They already had some kind of romantic encounters, but it was never quite enough for anyone to make a first move. Basically all of them could be seen as „Well, that was awkward, but we are friends so it’s funny.“

Genre: Fluff, First Kiss Stuff

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: 1,960

"Gin-chan, wake up! wake up!"

Kagura's scream echoed through the Yorozuya banged on his door before tearing it open with an ugly sound.

"You're an old man now, no more sleeping in late" She continued to scream with full volume.

"Shut up!" Gintoki screamed back and opened his eyes. He sure felt like an old man already. His life was okay now, after the ending of the canon material. But something was missing, but he also didn't care enough to find out what exactly was missing.

Kagura brought in a birthday cake with 3 sloppily placed candles, topped with one single strawberry. Gintoki frowned looking at the candles.

"I'm 30, not 3." He blurted.

"Yes yes, right. You're so old, I need to use one candle for 10 years, that's how old you are!" She explained to him. Gintoki snorted.

"Why are you so happy so early in the morning?!"

"Here, eat up or mommys gonna be pissed!"

She ignored his bad mood and lifted the fork, forcing the cake in his mouth.

"Ah Kagura stop that, I can eat myself." He picked the fork out of her hand and grumpily ate the cake, sharing it with her. To be exact, Kagura shared with him. She ate most of the cake.

"We're gonna have a party today, yes we will!" She announced.

He groaned in disapproval, a party was the last thing he wanted.

"Zura and Elisabeth are coming, that weird space guy, Shinpachi of course, Gorilla boss lady, -"

"How many people did you invite?!" He interrupted her.

"Mayofreak, Gorilla, that sadistic assface" She ended her list.

"Did you invite the whole Shinsengumi?!"

"Yes of course! It's a special occasion after all!"

"Who's gonna pay for that?!"

"You don't need to pay, don't worry. It's your birthday!"

She happily jumped to her feet, snatching the plate from his hands, on her way to leave his room.

"Thank you, Kagura" Gintoki mumbled. She turned around and smiled.

He laid down again and sighed.

Just forget my birthday already, no one cares about that.

"No more sleeping! Get up now!" Kagura screamed from outside.

Angrily mumbling Gintoki crawled out of his futon and prepared himself for the shitty day.

---------------  x ---------------

The Yorozuya office was packed.

Every possible sitting space was occupied, the room filled with familiar faces. The mood was exuberant, but Gintoki still didn't warm up to the idea of the party.

All guests had arrived by now and the alcohol rose to everyone's head, while Gintoki tried to keep the excitement down. They tried to toast on his birthday several times, but he always denied it, frantically searching for excuses.

Once, he spurted over to the kitchen, pretending that he left the stove on.

Another time, he feigned to be asleep on the couch.

There was no reason for a celebration. There never was.

Katsura had just spilled his third beer all over the floor and Gintoki was kneeling down, searching for some napkins in a drawer, when suddenly the shoji door opened and another trio entered the room. "Hey Tsukki, Hinowa, Seita!" Kagura shouted happily.

Gintoki's heart stumbled. He abruptly lifted his head, banging his head against the drawer. Rubbing his back of the head, he stood up straight and faced the new guests.

Kagura didn't tell me they were coming as well..

"Tsukki…,what are you doing here?" He asked nervously

"Gin-san, Happy Birthday!"

Hinowa said with a singing voice, reaching for his hand to press it lightly, shaking it excitedly.

"Here, we have a present for you!" Seita hugged him turbulently with a small package in his hands, giving it to him with a big smile.

"It's ya birthday, are we not invited?" Tsukuyo mumbled, arms crossed in front of her chest, averting her eyes, Kiseru in her mouth.

Hinowa slightly pushed in Tsukuyos ribs.

"Don't you-?"

She whispered and Tsukuyo blushed slightly before she eyed Gintoki.

Confused, he tilted his head, Seita still jumping around in front of him.

Tsukuyo sighed, closed the few steps between them, walked around Seita and spread out her arms, wrapping them around Gintoki.

He was baffled.

Hugs? Since when does she give out hugs?

"Happy Birthday" She mumbled incomprehensibly.

Tsukuyo hugged him tight, a little too tight. He could feel her arms cramping around him and her heart racing against his. Well, that's awkward. Gintoki felt his heart speed up as well.

"Oi oi, not so unruly, you're almost assaulting me" He laughed nervously.

She tensed up, let out an angry sound and smashed him to the ground, pressing the air out of his lungs.

"That's a nice present, did not expect anything else from you.." He mumbled, lying exhausted on his back.

Tsukuyo was standing over him, her face beet red.

"Tsukki, are you okay? Are you sick?" Kagura shouted from her seat on the couch.

"'s fine" She blurted.

"Oi, why does no one care about me? It's my birthday and I just got crashed into the damn floor" Gintoki grumbled.

"You're fine." Kagura simply replied.

"Nothing new" Shinpachi shouted from the other side. Hinowa smiled happily.

"Oi, why are you happy? Why are you happy?!"

---------------  x ---------------

The evening had gone by mostly uneventfully. Katsura had tried to battle everyone in a game of uno, but he failed miserably, losing every single time. The now close to tears samurai was comforted by Elisabeth in one corner of the room.

"This never happens to me, I'm so good at this game!" He cried in his sleeve.

Elisabeth held up a sign: You're the best player!

Tatsumas laughter repeatedly echoed through the room. It was the most annoying sound of the evening. Gintoki had the strong urge to kick his head in.

"Kintoki, drink something with me!" He called out to him, completely wasted.

"It's Gintoki, can't ya at least get it correctly on my birthday?!" Gintoki hadn't touched a single drop. He still didn't feel like celebrating.

The Shinsengumi members happily drank in their own little round and were joined by Hinowa, Kagura and Shinpachi. Seita played on his new TS. unbothered by the commotion around him. Otae and Kyuubei sat on his table, sharing some food, leaving Gintoki and Tsukuyo alone.

"So.. how are ya" Gintoki started after some minutes of silence between them.

"Whaddaya mean?" She replied uninterested, smoking her kiseru.

"I asked about your well-being , what do you not understand?"

"Why are ya asking, you never ask that" She simply replied.

"Fine, I won't do it again." Offended, Gintoki crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He glanced over to her, their eyes met and both of them turned away, slightly blushing.

Hinowa turned her attention to Tsukuyo, noticing the thick tension between them.

"Tell him how you are, it's not that hard." She chuckled, slightly drunk and continued talking to Kondo with great interest. Hinowa had recently started to bond with him, much to her disapproval. She didn't want the police involved in Yoshiwaras business.

Tsukuyo huffed.

"'s fine, I guess." She finally replied to his question.

"Ah.. I see."

"and how is it?"

"How is what?"

"Being old." She grimaced maliciously.

Gintoki scoffed. "It's not that different from yesterday, it's just one day later."

"okay.."

"I don't know.. lonely" He continued.

"You don't have to be lonely," Tsukuyo said, still looking in another direction.

"..what do you mean?" Gintoki turned in her direction.

"I urr I.. I mean..you have Kagura and Shinpachi.. you're not alone"

Gintoki paused.

"Yea right, I'm not alone, but still lonely"

"That's not true, Gintoki."

"Sooner or later Kagura will move out, Shinpachi will find a girlfriend, and they will be living their own lives. I'll be a single left alone dad by then. Maybe I should buy myself a woman in Yoshiwara.." His thoughts trailed off.

"Ya couldn't afford that anyways. Besides.. I'm sure there's someone for you" Tsukuyo's voice got lower with the progression of her sentence.

"Really? Who is it, is she hot? Does she have big boobs? Please tell me she's not from the Hyakka"

"..kind of"

"Tell me, who is it?" He was invested now.

"Well..-"

"Tsukki, don't you still have another present?" Tsukuyo jumped at Hinowas interruption.

"No I don't. It's already late, let's go home." Tsukuyo answered quickly and she stood up hastily, leaving the disappointed Gintoki behind.

"Okay, if you say so."

Seita helped Hinowa and they said their goodbyes, walking to the front door. Gintoki stood up as well and accompanied them to the exit like a good host.

"You can tell me Tsukki, I won't tell anyone!"

But she just ignored him. He gave up.

"Thanks for coming, hope you enjoyed it." He said politely.

"Oh Gin-san of course we did! It's always pleasant to be around both of you !" Hinowas smiled.

Gintoki was confused "Why do you say 'both of you' so weird?"

Hinowa didn't reply and Tsukuyo pushed her to the door. Halfway, she stopped and turned around, facing the in the door leaning Gintoki.

"Gintoki..I .. I actually have another present for you" She started quietly.

Hinowas gasped slightly.

"She's gonna do it!" She whispered to Seita.

"Eh? I don't need presents, I thought I already said that." Gintoki waved his hand dismissively.

"It's just.. something small."

"uh.. okay?"

"you jus..just need to come a bit closer."

"You're scaring me."

"Or I can just come to you.."

Tsukuyo carefully walked back, stopping right in front of him at a very short distance. Sweat formed on his forehead.

"Close your eyes." She whispered.

He did.

Gintoki felt her small hands on his, turning his palm around, laying her hand in his. But there was nothing in her hand.

There's nothing there, What could it be? -

That's when she kissed him. No warning, no preparations. She just kissed him then and there in the doorway, right on the lips, in full view of everyone.

Gintoki forgot to think at all.

Her warm soft lips on his spread a fire in his body, crawling under his skin, burning the hands that were covered by her soft fingers.

One second.

The whole room went silent, Tatsumas laughter died.

If you listened carefully enough, you could've heard a feather falling to the wooden floor.

Two seconds.

Gintoki's head started to spin. His eyes opened slightly and he saw her face through his lashes.

Three seconds.

That was over the limit of an accidental kiss.

It was not a shy kiss,

it was brisk,

setting a complete new point in their relationship.

Her feathery touch on his hand tightened, sending a shiver that traveled down his spine, making his heart beat painfully fast.

Gintoki slightly opened his lips, about to return the kiss, but she retreated, her face tinted in a shade of red he had never seen before.

Tsukuyo smiled lovingly and lifted a finger, brushing it over his open mouth, caressing his lips.

"Happy Birthday"

She whispered and turned around on her heels, hooking the excited chattering Hinowa into her arms and quickly excited through the front door.

Gintoki just stood there, dumbfounded, unable to move.

The kiss wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't a scene from a shoujo manga with a great backdrop, exciting atmosphere and a big buildup, but it was wonderful.

Nothing else was able to reach his mind in this moment, he only knew he would remember it forever.

Several minutes went by.

Still, no one had said a word.

Everyone stared at him and Gintoki stared at the door where he had last seen her.

“ehh.. Gin-san..? Is everything ok?" Shinpachi asked carefully, the sounds slowly returning to the room.

Gintoki's fingers slowly lifted up to touch his lips, her sweet taste still lingering on them.

“what…?" ..did just happen?

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 17

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 16

Next Chapter: Chapter 18

Lucie spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden trying to figure out how to do magic. It didn’t help that she had no idea what she was doing or how magic worked and instead she was just trying some methods she remembered from her favorite books. So far, nothing happened. After some time, Jessamine came outside to watch.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Trying to do magic,’ Lucie answered, a little frustrated with her lack of progress. ‘You don’t happen to have any clue how that works?’

Jessamine looked shocked. ‘About magic? Of course not, why would you think such a thing. I’m a good Christian.’

Lucie guessed she should have suspected such a thing. ‘Jess, in all the time that you’ve been here, was I the only one who could see you?’

Jessamine thought for a while.

‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘There was someone else, years ago. The sister of Mr. Gray. She travelled to the manor shortly after my death, to express her condolences to my family, and she could see me and spoke to me.’

Mr. Gray’s sister… Her mother couldn’t see ghosts, but perhaps she was somehow distantly related to his woman and to Jessamine’s old suitor through her mother. Perhaps that power did travel in families.

‘And was there anything else she could do?’ Lucie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Jessamine said. ‘Mr. Gray always thought his sister was odd, occupied with things not suitable for a young lady. She rarely came to balls, even if she was old enough to be out and looking for suitors. But he thought discussing what his sister was up to would be inappropriate for the proper ladies present, such as myself.’

‘She must have been a witch too then,’ Lucie speculated.

Jessamine looked horrified. ‘Witches don’t really exist, do they? Mr. Gray’s sister was certainly odd, everyone knew that, but I never thought she could be a witch.’

‘Jess, you’re literally a ghost. And I can see you and speak with you, just like Mr. Gray’s sister did. When I’m near you can pick up hair brushes, which you normally can’t.’

‘All this time, you’ve been bewitching me?’ Jessamine asked, her voice small.

‘No, not like that,’ Lucie said. ‘That wasn’t something I did intentionally, and I never forced you into anything. Although I’m thinking maybe I could. Jess, my friend is in danger and I need to save him. Are you willing to help me?’

Jessamine looked reluctant. ‘What will you do to me?’

‘Just test a few things, figure out what I can do,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ve always made you stronger, I have no idea what you could do with my help.’

She looked down, resigned. ‘Alright, Lucie. I will see what I can do. What is it that you ask of me?’

Lucie looked around, and noticed a stick lying on the ground.

‘Can you pick that up?’ she asked, pointing.

Jessamine looked confused, but bent down and picked up the stick, holding it in her hands. Usually, ghosts could pick up things they cared for around her. In Jessamine’s case, hairbrushes and dolls. Lucie didn’t think Jessamine cared much for sticks.

‘That looks odd,’ Thomas, who was sitting in a garden chair next to Alastair, commented. ‘Like you just made the stick float.’

‘Yes,’ Lucie said. ‘But that’s not exactly helpful, is it? Jessamine, can you touch Thomas? Usually you’d pass through him.’

Jessamine dropped the stick and rubbed her hand even if there was no dirt remaining on her ghostly form. She walked over to Thomas, who'd stood up out of his chair, and shook his hand, curtsying politely. Thomas yelped, which indicated that he could feel her. Interesting.

‘Do gentlemen not kiss a lady’s hand anymore?’ Jessamine asked.

Thomas turned red, and lifted his hand up, taking Jessamine’s hand with him, and kissed her. To Lucie, this looked relatively normal, but Thomas couldn’t see Jessamine. This had to be awkward. Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand.

‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,’ Jessamine said.

Lucie repeated Jessamine’s words to Thomas.

‘Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you too, miss,’ Thomas said, looking over her head instead of at her.

Lucie sometimes wondered if Thomas got neck cramps from having to look down whenever he was talking to other people.

Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand. ‘In my day, the gentlemen certainly had better manners,’ she snorted.

Lucie started laughing. ‘Jessamine is not impressed by your manners, Tom,’ she said.

Thomas turned an even deeper red. ‘I am terribly sorry, miss, that my manners are not up to your standard. Wait, is she still there?’

Jessamine scoffed. ‘I’ll never understand the gentlemen of this century. If you can call them that. People are so contradictory. I always felt like public displays of affection are frowned upon nowadays, especially between gentlemen, even if they are very close friends. But your two gentlemen seem to be very affectionate and improper with each other.’

Lucie started laughing. She suspected Jessamine had seen Alastair and Thomas kiss each other the other day, she’d seemed very shocked by it, but Lucie didn’t realize she’d interpreted them as having a very intimate friendship. Some decades before Jessamine lived, such a thing had been more normalized though, known as the romantic friendship. Although Lucie suspected at least some of those “romantic friendships” were really concealed gay relationships. ‘Oh no, that is not considered normal in this day, but Alastair and Thomas are not simply close friends.’

Jessamine looked absolutely horrified and Lucie decided to change the subject. She did not feel like discussing sexuality with a ghost from the Victorian era, she didn’t think that conversation would end without anyone getting hurt or offended.

‘What did she say?’ Thomas asked.

‘Jess is very confused about the gentlemen of this day. Usually they are not so affectionate towards each other as you are with Alastair,’ Lucie summarized.

‘I,’ Alastair announced, ‘am very glad to live in this day and age and not whatever century this lady must have been from.’

Lucie could imagine, the modern day might still be a mess but she would certainly prefer it over being a 19thcentury lady. She imagined she would have married young, a gentleman she’d thought she was fond of, but didn’t really feel romantic attraction to, and then she’d be trapped. That wouldn’t happen to her main character Eloise though. Eloise and Mabel would find a way, although of course writing a story about a sapphic couple in the 19th century had its limitations in their happy ending.

‘So Jess can touch objects and people who don’t see her,’ Lucie continued. ‘Anyone has any other ideas?’

‘Could you make her visible to us?’ Alastair asked.

‘Jess, show yourself,’ Lucie said.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I don’t know how to do that.’

Nothing happened, at least not that Lucie could tell.

‘She looks a lot like I pictured her,’ Thomas said.

‘I thought her hair would be darker,’ Alastair commented. ‘I don’t think bleach for hair existed back then, and I’m pretty sure no one has hair that’s naturally this light.’

‘I think it depends on where you’re from,’ Thomas said. ‘Light blonde hair is more common in Northern Europe.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Just because you used to bleach your hair, does not mean everyone who is blonde does the same.’

Thomas frowned. ‘You bleached your hair?’

‘I dyed it back to black, and it’s mostly grown out now,’ Alastair said. ‘It was too much effort to maintain, I had to touch up the roots every four weeks. It looked good though.’

‘It did not look good,’ Cordelia commented. ‘He looked like a turnip.’

Lucie’s eyes went wide. It worked. They were seeing Jessamine. Lucie was feeling a little faint, but did not let it distract her.

‘Come on, pay attention. You’re looking at a ghost for the first time in your life, isn’t that more interesting than Alastair’s hair?’ Lucie shouted.

‘Almost,’ Thomas said. ‘Have you seen Alastair’s hair?’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s pay attention to the ghost. Alright, blonde people are real. And her dress is very nice, I always liked the bustle style.’

‘You can see me?’ Jessamine’s smile lit up. ‘Oh this wonderful. It is such a long time since a gentleman has been able to see me. And it is a lovely dress, I had it made when I visited Paris with my mama.’

She pronounced Paris the way the French did. Lucie knew Jessamine loved to talk about her gowns, although she wasn’t fond of modern clothes. She wore a green day dress with a bustle, something Lucie imagined was a bit unpractical. So many layers. Not to mention the corset.

Alastair looked up thoughtfully. ‘How long do you imagine she’ll stay visible, Lucie?’ he asked. ‘What about if you step away from here? Go inside?’

Lucie took several steps away from Jessamine, taking hold of the door to open it.

‘She’s gone,’ Thomas said.

Lucie turned around and walked to Jessamine. ‘What about now?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ Cordelia said. ‘I think once she disappears, you need to ask her to become visible again.’

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie repeated.

‘There she is,’ Alastair said. ‘She looks surprisingly human. I always thought ghosts would be more transparent like in movies.’

‘If they were, do you think I would have mistaken ghosts for living people?’ Lucie asked. ‘If you look carefully, ghosts have a bit of a shimmer but beyond that they look just like people.’

‘Living people, that is,’ Jessamine said. ‘I consider myself a person still, thank you very much.’

‘Of course you are a person,’ Thomas confirmed, indicating that he could hear as well as see her. ‘It is odd to think you’ve been here for such a long time, and always invisible.’

‘It has been very difficult,’ Jessamine said. ‘For a long time, no one could see me until Lucie came here. And modern times are so confusing. Why do ladies wear clothes that reveal their ankles at all times? Worse, the knees? In my day, the occasional ankle slip was to be expected, of course, but visibility of the calves and knees was unheard of. Have people lost all sense of propriety?’

‘Because it’s more practical to not wear floor length dresses all the time,’ Lucie said. ‘Also, no one cares about ankles nowadays. Or knees.’

Lucie did like wearing dresses and skirts, but didn’t like them too long. She was short and therefore the hem always dragged over the ground, which meant she either tripped over the skirt or got it dirty when she wore it outside.

‘But it’s so improper,’ Jessamine insisted, horrified. ‘How could people just stop caring about such things? If this continues, it will not be long until humans go out with no clothes at all and society will fall into chaos.’

‘Now that is generally frowned upon,’ Alastair said. ‘I do not expect that to happen anytime soon.’

‘It would be uncomfortable,’ Cordelia added. ‘And also very cold. The point of clothes is to stay warm.’

‘Does anyone have an idea on how to open a gateway to the land in between?’ Lucie asked. ‘Because that is different from what I can ask of ghosts.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘Maybe you could ask Jessamine.’

‘Jess, can you open a gateway to the land in between for me?’ Lucie asked.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I do not understand what you ask of me.’

That wasn’t it, then. Lucie guessed opening the gateway was something she’d have to do herself. Making Jessamine visible, that was also something she did, she commanded it and Jessamine could not do it without her. Then perhaps it was about commanding.

‘Or you could ask for a gateway,’ Thomas suggested.

‘Like, open sesame?’ Lucie asked.

‘Be specific,’ Alastair added. ‘What is it that you want to happen? Perhaps Thomas is right, perhaps all you have to do is ask.’

Lucie tried to remember what Grace said, that her magic was dark magic. Perhaps she needed to ask the darkness, or shadows, or something like it? Grace had hinted at this too. Careful what you wish, you just might get it.

‘Darkness, open a gateway to the land in between that is only open to myself, Thomas Lightwood, and Alastair and Cordelia Carstairs,’ Lucie said, remembering to be detailed. Perhaps that was what Grace had warned her about, that what she asked for would happen but not the way she’d intended. ‘A gateway that will not close until all four of us made it back safely to our world.’

It didn’t look like a gateway exactly. There was just a hint of shadow, and when it touched Lucie her friends disappeared. There were no ruins here, the change was subtle beyond her friends being gone. The air was just a touch darker, the breeze a little colder. Some of the color had faded, the grass was a bit duller. There was a fog hovering above the ground. The house was still there, but from here she should be able to see her father’s car and that was gone.

Cordelia, Thomas and Alastair appeared beside her, Cordelia with cortana in hand.

‘I don’t see any ruins,’ Thomas commented.

‘I think the land in between is layered over our land,’ Lucie said. ‘So perhaps to find those ruins, I need to open a portal around where the ruins are. Or I guess we could walk there, but then we’d leave a portal open here and we’d have to walk all the way back once we find it in this world.’

‘I imagine you could open another portal,’ Alastair said. ‘But finding the place the ruins should be in our world and then opening a portal is likely safer. Come, we should get back. This place doesn’t feel right.’

Alastair had a point. Lucie looked around to the way back. In their own world, the gateway looked like a shadow. Here it was a ray of light in an otherwise dark and gloomy environment. She watched her friends step into the light and disappear and then Lucie followed.

The four of them were back in the normal world, her parents both in the garden, concerned. The gate of darkness disappeared behind her. Lucie had asked it not to close until all of them were back, she guessed on its own it didn’t stay open for long and would close if she didn’t stop it. She made a mental note of that, she didn’t want to have to open another portal while they were being attacked by something. The portal closing behind her while all four of them were back was a good way to make sure nothing else came through.

She was feeling a bit more faint than before, light headed. She should have expected using magic would come at a price, but perhaps it was like exercise and she could improve her magic stamina.

‘Where did you just come from?’ Tessa asked.

Lucie looked around for help, but figured since this was her power she was to explain it. She started with Grace visiting again, with her telling her that she had more power than she knew and that she could open a gate.

‘I figured out how to do it,’ Lucie concluded. ‘So we can go into the woods and find Grace’ skin.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to come along?’ Will asked.

Lucie considered it, but it was a long time since her father had fought anything and her mother had barely any experience. It wouldn’t be safer with them there. Cordelia had a sword, Lucie was the only one who could open the gateway, and Grace seemed under the impression that it was also necessary for Alastair to come, that his memory would be essential. At least one person with the sight would also be useful.

‘I think it’s better if you didn’t,’ Lucie said. ‘But there’s something else you could do in the meantime. According to Cordelia and Alastair, their father has lots of notebooks from their ancestors, and one must have described a witch similar to me. Perhaps you could call Elias, or uncle Jem, and ask for them.’

Will frowned. ‘Do you think Elias would help us now? He was so opposed to Cordelia coming here with us before.’

Cordelia hadn’t been allowed to come at first, but then her mother had moved out and taken her children with her and her father couldn’t stop her anymore. Sona had decided it would be good for both her children to have some time away and had encouraged them to go. Lucie agreed it was unlikely Elias would be any help on his own accord. She couldn’t say she understood him or his relationship with his children well, all she knew was the damage it had done to Alastair and Cordelia.

‘Father does listen to Jem at times,’ Alastair said stiffly. ‘I think perhaps he could reason with him.’

‘I’ve been meaning to call Jem anyway,’ Will said. ‘If you do not return before dinner, we will come looking for you.’

‘I could leave the gate open for you,’ Lucie said. ‘But we cannot be sure about the time. It doesn’t run the same way, we could spend only a couple of hours there and we’d be missing for a whole day. We cannot keep track of time in there.’

‘Dinnertime,’ Will repeated. ‘I won’t blame you if you’re not back, but we will come looking.’

‘Perhaps we should go tomorrow,’ Alastair suggested and Lucie wondered if maybe after this morning, he did not feel up for it and needed rest. ‘I think it is unlikely we will finish before that time, and if we go tomorrow early in the morning, it is far more likely we can finish before dinnertime.’

Lucie had to admit his line of reasoning had merit, even if she was impatient to get out there. Besides, that gave her time to practice. Cordelia returned to her practice with cortana, whereas Lucie tried asking the darkness for other favors. She practiced opening and closing gate. The gateways all worked and did what she asked of them, but it was tiring though. After four more gates Lucie collapsed onto a garden chair and took to watching Cordelia practice, too tired to get up. Perhaps Alastair had a point in postponing going for the skin, and she imagined even if he was feeling better now that he was exhausted after this morning. She’d had a break down on a rare occasion, autism and stubbornness didn’t always go well together, but never as bad as Alastair had. She knew how exhausting it could be.

Cordelia’s stamina had to be a lot better than Lucie’s, because she kept going for a long time and didn’t seem to get tired. She certainly had a weak spot for girls with swords, and Lucie made a note to use that in one of her novels. Cordelia had tied back her dark red hair in a high ponytail, and was wearing a wide shirt tucked into a pair of jean shorts, something a bit more practical than Lucie’s yellow jumpsuit. Well, it was comfortable to walk around in, but a struggle to go to the bathroom. Cordelia had begun to break a sweat, a few drips on her forehead, but that didn’t stop her. Perhaps later she’d want to go swimming to cool down. Thinking of water, Lucie realized she hadn’t drunk anything in a while. And considering Cordelia had been training for some time, she had to be dehydrated.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ Lucie asked.

‘I could use a glass of water,’ Cordelia said. ‘I always forget to drink when I’m training.’

Fortunately, Lucie was there to make sure Cordelia drank enough water. She tended to forget herself too, especially when she was busy writing. Sometimes she’d complain of a headache, only to realize she hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast.

She went inside to find Alastair and Thomas were about to leave, both carrying a bag.

‘Where are you going?’ Lucie asked.

‘Just to the lake,’ Thomas said. ‘We won’t go too far into the lake, but it’s getting too warm pretty much everywhere. Maybe you and Cordelia can join us later when you’re done training.’

‘I’ll ask Cordelia,’ Lucie promised. ‘Have fun, in the meantime.’

She returned outside with two glasses of water, putting one on the table.

‘The boys have gone swimming,’ Lucie said. ‘Thomas said we were welcome to join once we’re done.’

‘Sure,’ Cordelia said. ‘Just let me finish.’

Cordelia went through a few more repeats of her training, and then transformed cortana back into its necklace form.

‘I get tired a lot sooner than you,’ Lucie admitted.

‘I can’t do magic,’ Cordelia said. ‘I have no idea how exhausting opening or closing a gateway is. I imagine it is a lot more work than simply swinging a sword.’

Lucie guessed perhaps that was true, magic ought to have some limitations. If not, then how could Cordelia’s ancestor have defeated the witch from Grace’ story? ‘I’m curious what else I can do. Grace said something about controlling the dead and making them fight, but that seems a bit unethical. Jessamine isn’t a fighter, and I’d never make her fight something on my behalf.’

‘It depends on the situation, I guess,’ Cordelia said. ‘We don’t know what it takes to stop Tatiana and save Thomas.’

‘No, but I do need to draw moral lines for myself,’ Lucie said. ‘I feel bad for that witch from the story, and I don’t want to end up like her. I don’t want us to become enemies.’

Cordelia took her hand. ‘I’ll never become your enemy, Lu.’

‘Then I guess I’ll have to stay on the safe side of that ethical line. I know how easy it can be, to have the end justify the means, but that’s something I’d rather save for my stories.’

[soysaucevictim]

“more than ever, hour (work is never over)”

Summary: Logan goes for a run, and hits a snag when Roman seems to have found himself in trouble. Again. (This happens about a year before “Cherry Cola”, to be clear. Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff, Light Angst, Sickfic(?)

Characters: Logan and Roman centric. Janus, Patton, and Remus mentioned.

Relationships: Logince (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Roceit (sexual/QPP*), Background Loceit (platonic)

Warnings: Lots of numbers, Himbro Roman, Roman Is A Disaster, illness, over-training, sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, (not as bad as what happened in “Cherry Cola”), vomiting (mentioned), Logan Is A Good Friend

-

Logan was running his typical checklists before setting out for another HIIT routine over at the gym. He highly valued maintaining his cardiac and overall health. He wasn’t in the medical field like Janus is and Patton used to be, but he didn’t need those credentials to appreciate it.

Considering he was a 28 year old Homo sapien, his maximal heart rate would be 192 beats per minute. Obviously, he wasn’t keen on achieving nor surpassing exactly that red zone. To say there were diminishing returns, would be an understatement. Remus would take the notion as a challenge… to be sure.

But that value was necessary to calculate his initial target – 65% of that, to be relatively precise. 125, rounded up. He intended to reach that after some warm-up routine and the first lap or two. He would consider this the yellow zone.

Once that holds reasonably steady, his next goal was to go for 87% at the highest intensity. So, 167 BPM. Holding that line for at least a minute. 2 minutes, if he was feeling particularly bold, he was in pretty good shape at this juncture. This would be more of an orange zone.

After the spike in intensity, he would go down to 50% for recovery, or 96 BPM. Rest at that load for 3 minutes, in the proverbial green zone. And then crank the figurative gears back up to the 87% target.

He intended to repeat this for at least 10 rounds. Add more, if energy is willing. Sounded like a plan.

To hit these marks, one of the simpler ways Logan enjoyed were via the exercise bikes. But today, he thought he’ll do some laps around the indoor track. He felt he needed to work in some more devoted arm action, and that would be a reasonable way to hit this workout paradigm. This outline seemed elegant and flawless.

He reviewed all of that while he swapped out his casual shoes for runners, in the locker room.

-

It was exactly noon when he approached the starting line. He popped in some earbuds to his prepared playlists.

He was listening to the mix named “Warm-Up Playlist”. He knew his fellows would jab him for the plainness of it, but the utility simply couldn’t be argued with. It was a selection of songs that started at 50, incrementing up to 100 BPM in tempo. It helped him keep his pace.

He stood to the side, spending a couple minutes doing some preliminary exercises. Ankle circles, leg swings, pelvic loops, arm circles, and hula-hoop jumps. It’s important to keep all the relevant joints stable and readied. Janus would probably congratulate his refreshing fastidiousness, among their motley crew.

After that micro-checklist was completed, he started going toward a brisk walking pace. He was going to check his heart rate after a couple laps to see how close to 65% he was getting.

Halfway into his first lap, he was nearly knocked over by a blur wearing a red crop-top sweatshirt and matching shorts. Roman, clearly not paying attention to what he was doing. Predictably. Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. He had to table his thoughts about his friend’s whole methodology (or lack thereof, as far as he was concerned), or else he’d fall too far out of rhythm!

Roughly a quarter of the way into the second lap, Roman closed in on Logan again, he was going at a jogging pace to a slightly faster walk to match up with Logan. Roman waved and smiled at Logan, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here, Specs!”

Logan thought the voice was Roman-typically cheery. Frankly Logan would be mystified about this man’s energy, if he hadn’t met Remus first. “Salutations.”

“Why are you going so slooow? Wanna race me? I bet I can totally run circles around you!”

“No. I have a plan I intend to stick to, Roman. You know this.”

Roman melodramatically threw up his arms and pouted at Logan, somewhat impressively coordinated to his slow jogging. “Fiiine. I’m off – I want to see how many laps I can get in, like... the next hour. Adiós, for now~”

Roman went from a jog to a run before he could get a response. Logan tutted before refocusing on getting to that 65% - that yellow zone. After the second lap, he drank some water and checked his pulse… hmmm, 55%. It was time to hit a jog. He skipped a few tracks toward that range and worked to match.

By the time Logan completed lap 3, he reached and held at 65%. So, he turned on a 1-minute interval timer and his “HIIT Playlist”, on his phone. Much of the music went at 120 BPM, give or take 30. This phase, he was going to rely on his fitness bracelet to tell him where he’s at, not enough time to do things digitally… rather, manually or with his fingers, to clarify.

He and Remus programmed this thing to flash his percentage progress, freeing up some mental space to not need to calculate that value repeatedly, whenever he looked at the monitor.

He picked up to a run for about another quarter-lap and broke into a full-tilt sprint. Every 20 or so seconds, he glanced at the bracelet, while keeping the majority of his attention to his surroundings and form.

20 seconds, 73%. Not good enough.

40 seconds, 84%. Logan grimaced and pushed his cadence up a bit more.

50 seconds, 86%. For the love of Archimedes… it’s okay. It’s close.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 88%. Orange. FINALLY. Okay, he thought he had a good read now, being consistent for the next sets should be easier.

-

Time to, figuratively, dial things way down. He spent approximately 20 seconds running, 40 more jogging, and BEEP.

He took a couple sips from his water bottle, before spending the remaining 2 minutes going at a walk.

1 minute, 30 seconds, 78%.

BEEP. 2 minutes, 71%.

2 minutes, 30 seconds, 60%.

2 minutes, 50 seconds, 53%.

BEEP. 3 minutes, 49%. Green. Logan sighed to himself, “Margin of error, you have to account for it… anyways.”

-

Round 2.

20 seconds, 76%. Better.

40 seconds, 85%. Almost there.

50 seconds, 87%. Orange, again. Locked on, Logan smiled. Now hold this for 10 more seconds…

BEEP!

-

Second active rest cycle.

Once he got down to a walk again, he observed that Roman was on the opposite end of the track. Still going at what he could only describe as an absurd pace.

Roman closed in when Logan was 2 minutes into this interval. 69%, by the way. Logan groaned, some of Remus’s sense of humor “rubbing off on him”. Why must people ascribe such crudeness to an arbitrary number, he wondered.

Roman was panting quite loudly, shouting down Logan, “Nerd- Nerd’s got some SPEED!”

Logan took a swig of his water bottle. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me manage this.”

Roman looked like he just realized he should have followed suit, smacking his lips and drinking several gulps from his own water supply. “R-riiight.”

“You really should pace yourself. On everything. Honestly.”

“HEY. Only Snakey McSnakerson gets to tell me that!”

“Is he here right now? Am I wrong?”

Roman was back to pouting, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“But you just-”

Roman cupped his hands over his ears, “Lalala – I can’t hear you!”

Roman ran off ahead of him again. Logan could only shake his head.

2 minutes 55 seconds, 51%.

BEEP. 50%. Green.

-

Round 3.

30 seconds, 80%. Not bad if he said so himself.

40 seconds, 84%. Margin of error.

50 seconds, 89%. Overcompensated somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps Roman’s competitive streak was “infectious”, today.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 91%. Orange, approaching red. Yeah, he was definitely overcompensating.

-

Third rest, fourth active, fourth rest, fifth active intervals... hitting his marks, pleasingly and without incident.

He was on his fifth rest, soon enough.

Once Logan was walking again, he thought he was up for extending his active intervals to 2’, for the next 5 sets. Things have been building palpable fatigue, but very manageable.

Roman still appeared to holding up, a short distance ahead of Logan, at this point. Perhaps he was slowing down. It was a few moments before the distance was closed again.

Roman was drenched, so Logan decided to ask him, “Are you quite alright?”

“Might be getting a little tired now, no big deal.”

Logan recalled some things Patton instructed all of them about and he looked at Roman more carefully as they walked slowly. Roman looked paler than usual. “Hmmm, is your head hurting, perhaps?”

“Maybe a little. Didn’t get enough sleep again, it’s probably that.”

“I imagine it couldn’t be helping but-”

Roman got a little agitated, “But what, Egg Head?”

“Are you nauseous?”

“I’m not ready to puke, not just yet, Bro Ham.”

“May I check your pulse? Or rather, how does it feel?”

“What are you getting at!?”

“Cramps? Dizziness?… I think you are exhibiting the signs of heat exhaustion.”

Roman looked like he was going to be short with Logan, but it was clear now that he was starting to get somewhat wobbly. Logan decided to prompt him again, “Here, let us go to the showers, you need to cool off.”

Roman knew he couldn’t fight Logan in his current state, “Fiiine.”

Logan was annoyed about cutting his workout short, but he could always resume later. This was more important, anyways.

-

Roman was lying on his back on one of the benches in the locker room. His outfit then saturated with cool shower water, holding a battery-power fan to himself that Logan let him borrow.

Logan was at his feet, “How are your symptoms now?”

Roman groaned, “You’re not “the doctor” in our group, would you please stop acting like it.”

“I do not wish to see you in the hospital, Roman.”

Roman sputtered a little, “Yeah well, I’m fine.”

“Stable, I suppose, yes. But I know you enough to know you are not “fine”.”

Roman almost shot up to rebut, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. “Look. I just didn’t get enough sleep – mind was running a bajillion miles an hour last night. So many IDEAS to write down. And couldn’t get to sleep until way after… you know what? Nevermind.”

Logan did care and frankly saw a lot of similar tendencies between the two brothers. It disturbed him and made him wish he was able to help them get a better handle on their sleeping and general health habits. It seemed as though they were both at very high risk of something serious occurring. But at the same time, he recognized that this was not his area of expertise. All he could really do was try to be there for them.

“Speaking of which... I think I see my wall… approaching… going to-”

Before Logan could latch onto any inquiries about walls, Roman dropped the fan and started snoring. After a brief moment of worry, Logan was reasonably sure this was simply a nap, not a loss of consciousness. To his relief.

Logan thought idly, “I suppose I should at least inform Janus what occurred. Roman might not be fit to drive for a while longer.”

Logan tapped out a message, “Hey. I’m in the locker room with Roman. He likely had an episode of heat exhaustion, today. He appears to be doing okay right now. But I felt that it was worth mentioning it to you.”

It was not even 2 minutes before Janus responded with, “WHAT!?”

“He’s safe, just taking a nap. I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you took him home.”

“… omw. That dumb ass has some explaining to do. With love, of course.”

“Indeed, I shall see you shortly then?”

“Yeah, ttyl… thanks, btw.”

Logan supposed he should stick around to make sure Roman was safe before resuming his own agenda. He had to admit, like with Remus, he did enjoy seeing them get some greatly needed rest.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hand-Me-Down Words

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1639

Summary: A publisher wants to print the Beth Harmon story, but Beth doesn't know how to go about writing a book. Luckily, she knows someone who does.

They want her to write a book. With triumph over Borgov behind her, Beth requires a new challenge, and with the payout from Moscow, she doesn’t need to enter any American tournaments for the time being. Tedious car journeys and rough hotel sheets combined in trips that end in prizes of piddly amounts aren’t in her future unless she wants them to be. Victory means control. Writing, writing should mean control too.

Except that Beth’s never done anything like this before.

Numbers are the Harmon language—hers and her mother’s. Expressions, equations, calculations, and chess. Even Alma made sense of life through budgeting. Beth’s first thought after meeting with the agent she selected to represent her and the acquisitions editor at the publishing house is, Thank god I’m already in New York, because she needs help here. She needs somebody who’s done this before.

Unsure how quickly or if they’ll fall into their old pattern of sharing the bed, Beth informs Benny that she’s buying him a couch. A couch which will really be for her. She rejects even the remotest possibility that she’ll ever again sleep on that stupid inflatable mattress, pretending not to get a cramp in either her calf or the arch of her foot (or both) when she had to work the damn pump every night to avoid his gloating smile, to perpetuate his mistaken understanding of it being a situation of him providing her with something instead of the opposite. She maintains that he did promise a couch and is therefore a boldfaced liar. Which she should have seen because, liar? Yes, of course. The man plays chess for a living. A face that can alternately frighten and reassure an onlooker is a necessity. Come stay with me at my apartment in New York while we’re both aware of your attraction to me. Frightening. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep on the couch and this arrangement will keep things platonic and focused on your chess training. Reassuring.

“I’m buying a couch for your living room.”

“No.”

Well, fuck him. Beth leapfrogs her original scheme and buys an entire apartment. Not a nice one—she still has the Lexington house to caretake and eventually reinhabit—but it is above ground. She insists it’s hers, a good investment, a base in New York for all of her future meetings with her agent and editor, until Benny gives her a look that has her raising her palms and halting her excuses. She never asks him to give up his place. When he walks into hers one day with the key she had made for him dangling from his finger and a box of possesses under his arm, she just scrapes her chair back from the table and shows him the space she left for him in the closet.

She thinks they might have sex the day she comes back from a publicity event (they’re drumming it up before she’s written a single coherent page) to find Benny napping on the couch with his hat over his face like a cowboy, instinctively pulling her close when she knocks it away and startles him awake. Or when he suggests that she begin carrying a knife too and jokingly taps her thigh when she asks where she’s supposed to conceal it. Or when he stumbles blearily into her room in the early morning because she’s crying tears of frustration over her typewriter and he wordlessly gathers her into a sleep-warmed embrace. Or when they quit acting like he’s a guest and he calls it “our apartment” for the first time.

Beth wants to charge through the book. She’ll write for hours at a time, answering questions only as they occur to her, the way she’s danced back and forth with her true competitors on the chessboard. But Benny has the wisdom of a published author here and ruthlessly edits these pages—verbally, never picking up a pencil. He pushes her to compose the questions ahead of time, allowing her to address them with equal weight. Also, to come up with certain themes or trains of thought that are vital to the forward energy of the book and capture the spirit of her play, which is really what she’s made this deal in order to describe. People are hungry to see chess through her eyes. They’ll pay good money for it.

Whenever they’re on the brink of an argument because Beth is hammering away at the typewriter while Benny’s trying to get to sleep, or Benny is being as pushy and transactional as her editor while Beth’s desperate for a little encouragement, one of them inevitably suggests a match.

Playing at home is helping to break his habit of wagering on games. She never says anything directly; progress seems to come more easily for him when he doesn’t feel watched, which she gets, from having people voice their concern over the tranquilizers. It’s been… well, since the night she decimated him and his friends at speed chess, that he thought he had a failproof method for beating her. He can’t afford to lose every game—he has to contribute to the household finances.

They play three games at once, on three separate boards. They play without a board, swapping moves as they eat lunch and people-watch on a park bench. They play blindfolded until they get into a fight because Beth isn’t familiar with the shape of one of his sets and thinks she’s been moving a bishop when her fingers really stuttered over the pieces to land on a pawn. (They remove the blindfolds after checkmate to see that pawn ‘checking’ the king from a diagonal across the board and Benny discounts the entire match as illegal.)

They play games that last a day or more, leaving notepads beside the board like they do at tournaments and checking each other’s over the hours for new moves before responding with slides and taps and exchanges of their own. During one of these, when Benny’s been taking forever to take his turn (because Beth has him pinned and he’s being stubborn about conceding), she comes into the kitchen to start dinner and sees him sitting at the table, staring at the board, still not making a move.

“You can get out of it,” she comments, standing next to his chair with her arms folded. She doesn’t really believe that and he knows it; she watches him shift irritably in his seat.

“I think I would’ve done it by now.”

His refusal to even try while she’s standing there watching (yes, she still loves to watch him play) makes her just as determined to beat her own white pieces back as she was formerly determined to beat him. She studies the board harder and it does take several minutes. Finally, she spots the move.

Without thinking, Beth drops down onto his lap and says, “Here,” as she reaches out and drags the king onto a new square. “It looks like an exposed placement, but it’s really the perfect bait to get white to rearrange its offensive, opening things up for a comeback by black. See?”

She turns her head and her heart swoops as Benny’s gaze strokes unhurriedly up her neck to her face. He blinks twice, quickly, like seeing her here is a surprise and a dream. Gently, he shifts her hips back a little, until she can feel the firmness at his groin. He stops sleeping on the couch.

With trimming and factchecking and too much coffee, her book is suddenly in its final draft, pressed back into her hands by the editor who’s probably really, really tired of reading about chess. Regardless, the woman still loves the book. Vibrantly, aggressively. The house’s whole staff does, the way they can only love something they’re publishing in a frenzy, before interest in the young female champion wanes. Beth is amazed to find that she loves it too. It has a lot of heart, she feels, between the numbers that have defined her career; though it isn’t one of the sections she’s been requested to rejig for this last edit, she finds herself flipping back to a page near the beginning, where she writes about going to her first tournament unrated. Though journalists have always been curious about the morbidity of the car crash and her orphanage upbringing, she doesn’t give up too much of that. The highs and lows of Methuen—Jolene’s resilience and the green pills’ quicksand—will go unprinted. Readers will have to search for the personal. It’s in the brimming praise of Mr. Shaibel that Beth fought to include, and the passages of effusive respect for Alma, who learned to both manage and mother her.

It’s in the dedication.

Beth carries a copy home from the first box of the first printing. For the moment, it’s precious, but soon those boxes will be shipped out to bookstores, where employees will stack and shelve and shoppers will recognize her name on the spine and go, “Oh, isn’t she the one who…?” She smiles to imagine it.

“Benny?” she calls into their apartment. “You home?”

She curls around him from behind when he raises a hand from the couch. He’s reading but he puts the book down to transfer his complete attention to her and she kisses him with her mouth so full of the delight of her accomplishment that they almost get carried away. Breathless, she draws back, then hands her work over. She watches eagerly as Benny turns the pages, stopping him before the introduction.

His name isn’t the only one on the list—compiling people worth dedicating her book to was an exercise in recognizing the luck of her life—but it is the last. The endgame.

…and to Benny, it reads. Let’s set it up. Let’s think it out.

[gh0sture]

Under the Sea

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader

Part 2, Meet the gang

You've never been particularly good at meeting new people or making good first impressions for that matter but this, by far, has to be your worst one yet. Your clothes are soaked still, your hair a sticky mess from the saltwater and your mouth is opening and closing lika a fish gasping for air as it flaps around on a bridge after being caught. It's not one of your best looks you'll admit but it is all you can offer at the moment given the circumstances.

You try to form coherent thoughts, you really do, but this is just way too much for you to take in. He reaches a hand out and you flinch before grabbing it to make an awkward shake.

This isn't just insane. This is completely knock-your-socks-off bonkers.

You feel as if you were looking at the golden gates of heaven themselves, not daring to look him in the eyes out of fear that you might go blind from the sheer radiance of his aura meanwhile the man in question just looked at you blankly. Possibly with a hint of disgust. Definitely a bit of disgust.

"The name's Trafalgar Law, captain of Polar tang" his handshake is firm and he looks at you expectantly while retrieving his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

Neither of you say anything. He clears his throat but you give no reaction. Still staring at him like a five year old looking at a blackboard of university level algebra equations. He grimaces slightly at your behavior.

"Are you ok? I don't remember finding any trauma to your head, you should be fine" he grabs your chin and tilts your head around to inspect it disapprovingly in search of an injury. Although, he is an expert doctor so he would never miss any injuries, his pride wouldn't let him. This does nothing to soothe your symptoms though and doesn't exactly help with calming your heartbeat at all.

"I wouldn't have missed anything what's wrong with you" he mutters to himself when you finally managed to collect yourself enough to remove his hands.

"uhh no! no, i'm ok! thank you for ,uh, saving me by the way" this is the best and worst thing that have ever happened to you.

"it wasn't my choice" he deadpanned and turn back into the room to get a den-den mushi with a familiar penguin hat on it. Its so strange seeing on in real life. Although, you don't know if this is real life (is it just fantasy?). He proceeds to make a phone call (mushi-call? den-den call?) into it while you shift awkwardly on your feet in the hallway. Your feet ache from walking on the metal grid barefoot you had barely noticed until now. After exchanging a few words he walk over to the desk where he'd previously  been sitting and open a journal, presumably to continue doing whatever he did before.

"One of my crew members will be here shortly to get you settled for now and give you some necessities. We reach a port in nine days where you can leave." his voice was calm and composed, like pouring molten chocolate into your ears even though the words themselves were less than pleasant. When he spoke you could feel your knees get weak and you feel tempted to ask him a question for the sole purpose of hearing him speak more. God this man was hot. You nodded at his statement at first, not really paying attention to what he had actually said until you realized that nothing he said had been actually registered in your head.

"Wait, what?" you asked. He doesn't look up from his writing but you can hear the mild annoyance in his voice when he answers.

"Looking at you, you are rather ill equipped for staying here until we reach a populated island. Since you don't have any money or anything valuable, my crew will provide for you until we reach the port where you can find another ship to go back wherever you came from...Whatever weird country that's supposed to be...Now go down the hallway, He should be there already to help you so leave me alone" you get the feeling that you'll loose a limb if you stick around longer so you turn to head down the hallway and find "Him" who you hoped would be more polite.

"Not that way" you hear from the study and you turn around to head down the other way, somewhat (very) embarrassed.

You really wished that your first time meeting a celebrity would've gone better, but then again they do say that you should never meet your heroes. Was he always this rude in the series and book? Sure he came across as a bit of a tsundere but he seemed at least approachable in the series. You don't have the charisma or extroverted superpowers that Luffy have so that is probably an important thing to consider. As you head down the hallway you come across a man walking in your direction pretty soon. He seem far more ok with your existence and even appear to lit up a bit when he sees you and give you a friendly wave. This is already going a lot better than last time.

"Yo! You're the one we found floating around yesterday! Nice to meet you, people around here call me Penguin" He gives you a wide yet genuine smile as he grab your hand and shake it enthusiastically before you even have the chance to reach out.

"thought you were a goner when we found you haha!So it's good to see that you're up n' about, c'mon let me show you a round!" he turn around to walk from where he had just come from while you follow behind him silently.

Penguin makes it his personal responsibility to keep a conversation going even if it's pretty one-sided but it's nice. Comforting even, as he went on about how nice the other crewmembers are with the exception of the captain but you shouldn't take what he says too personal as he's a bit misunderstood. He  ask you different questions like your name, where you came from, complimenting you on your weird clothes, although it feels like that was mostly him being polite and you didn't have heart or energy to tell him that you're wearing PJ's. He doesn't mind your short answers and seems satisfied with the information he's able to divulge. To be fair you aren't sure how to answer since you don't know how you ended up here but also out of fear of ripping the space-time continuum open by telling him forbidden knowledge about his universe. It would be rather awkward explaining to him that you know a lot about them and what they've done/are about to do. You've technically stalked them through tv and books and if someone told you that they've been watching you, you would freak out. Rightfully so too. They might even think that you're a navy spy sent to gather information action for their arrest and they could kill you. Yeah, this is a mess and a half but you'll burn this bridge when you get to it. You did tell him your name though and he doesn't seem to suspect you working for some nefarious organization so all is well.

He showed you where the important places in the submarine was such as the kitchen, living quarters, rec area and bathrooms. You still have trouble telling up from down will undoubtedly get lost but he assures you that after a while you'll know this maze like the back of your hand. After leaving the living quarters he guides you to the top deck to find someone else he says will help you so that he can get back to work.

The yellow ship had surfaced at a deserted summer island and everyone was outside enjoying the sun after spending several days in the dark of the ocean. You hadn't been down in the submarine for that long , at least not while being conscious, and was already getting a bit unnerved over how cold and cramped it was. As soon as the warm rays of light hit you both the cold and your worries melt away.

"Hey Ikkaku! You have to help the drifter get some clothes!" He yelled at a woman laying in a sun-chair on the deck with her eyes closed. The familiar heart pirates uniform was open to reveal a green tank top and an orange and yellow striped hat was laying beside her.

"Haah!? Why do I have to do it?" She sat up to glare at Penguin and was about to protest when she spotted you behind him. One second you were hiding behind Penguin and the next you're face to face with a very pretty woman with very poofy hair. Her glorious lion name bounces a bit as she hold up both your hands in hers and lean over a bit to stare into your eyes. Everyone is so tall here why is everyone so ridiculously tall. Anime proportions are wild.

"Oh my god!! We were so worried about you, we thought you were dead when we found you!" You felt uncomfortable with her being so close to your face and politely thanked her for saving you while doing your best to avoid eye contact.

"Oi! Where's your manners! They've been through a lot being stranded in the ocean have some respect!" He bops her on the head and she lets you go to tell him off (and/or punch him back) but she remembers the shiny new toy in front of her and settles for staring daggers at him instead.

"Oh shut yer trap" She stares at you intensely as if to make sure you wouldn't run away or vanish into thin air. It's kind of nice being fawned over like this, and clearly the crew enjoy having a visitor.

"It's so nice having a fresh face around, It's been years since Captain let anyone new stay onboard  and being stuck with all the same jerks weeks on end gets a bit tiring you know. Now come on and let's go find you some proper clothes!" She grab your hand to drag you along back into the dark,dark depths of the submarine.

Oh joy. more cold, feet grating and claustrophobia.

"You're a bit smaller than everyone so we should probably ask Uni to sow it in for you if it's way too big" She says more to herself rather than you while handing you the classical white uniform with the heart pirates logo on the chest over your heart.

The woman who's name you had learned to be Ikkaku turn around and continued rummaging around the small closet in front of her in search of more clothes for you while you change into the white uniform when she isn't looking. It feels incredible to finally get out of those damp and sticky clothes and into something soft and warm instead. You are also the proud owner of a pair of fuzzy socks and black boots. Your poor abused feet are overjoyed that they no longer have to walk the metal grid of a thousand needles. Life is good.

"Once we get to the port of Pellar island you can probably trade your way to some more clothes but this should be fine for now"

In the little time you had spent with her you had learned quite the few things about the crew on the ship. For starters there were 21 members in the crew (including the captain), You were lucky number 22 according to Ikkaku, even though you aren't a part of the crew it's apparently better to have an even number of people aboard the ship. And hearing the stories of what they've been through it seems like you're their new rabbits foot. Since you're considered baggage or fancy cargo rather than someone useful she gives you some times on how to stay out the way, especially out if the captains way which you feel is probably a wise decision but you offer your help should she need it in the kitchen which she greatly appreciates. You hate feeling useless.

You can't help but wonder where you are in the Once Piece timeline as you rolled up the long sleeves of the uniform on your arms and legs for comfort. Had Luffy and Law already formed the alliance? Were you before the timeskip and the incident at Marine Ford? Maybe you were even ahead of the manga and anime itself in a future arc even. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ikkaku pushed a bundle of toiletries into your arms involving a towel, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap.

"We haven't figured out where you'll sleep for the moment but it'll work out soon enough. Otherwise you can just sleep in a spare bed in the infirmary but come help me gather food from the island! We don't want to get scurvy while we're submerged!" She drag you away towards the deck after leaving your things in her room for safe keeping for now.

This woman is going to pull your arm off.

She seemed very sweet but all the touching and stereotypical anime arm-pulling is weird since you have literally just met. The way she smiles while asking you about your favourite foods and how she excitedly plan different recipes out loud make you almost forgive her though. Almost.

You move sluggishly towards Ikkaku's room to get the only material items you currently own in this world. Foraging for fruits and herb until nightfall was tiring but at least you didn't have to carry that much stuff, a guy with a black pompadour haircut had come along to help carry the crates of stuff you and Ikkaku gathered. He seemed very nice too, somewhat cocky though. You had asked Ikkaku for information on a certain Straw-hat pirate while making small talk and have come to the conclusion that he probably hasn't even started his adventure towards becoming the Pirate King yet. She didn't know who you were referring to and was even showed some seagull newspaper from their library but no info of the gummy monkey man could be found whatsoever. Since you recall him making news very early on in his "career" it's fair to assume that he hasn't gotten up to his mischief yet.

It feels a bit weird to be honest. To be in the prologue of the story like this and you have no idea what kind of things anyone other than the Strawhats and Luffy had been up to since the story followed them, maybe some vague details about Law's past and fragments from some characters backstories but this is all uncharted territory. Your thoughts are interrupted as you suddenly bump into someone and fell backwards. You reach your arms out like a bad imitation of a seagull in attempt to grab the wall but someone grabs you before you manage to take hold of anything. Your grab their shoulders to steady yourself and let go once you're back on your feet but they don't remove their hands from you. You look up to thank them for catching you when all the colour drains from your face and you realize who you're standing prom-slow-dance proximity to. It is but the one and only person you'd least want to embarrass yourself in front of. Again.

"Do you have a death wish or are you just plain stupid 22-ya" He looked down at you with what you assume to be the ghost of an amused smile or slight disgust. Probably disgust. Again. while you're distracted by his closeness and the humiliating event that is currently taking place. It could be much worse though, right? you can salvage this situation probably.

"Crap, sorry I was just zoned out.." You tried looking anywhere but his oh-so-handsome face to avoid you making this anymore awkward than it already was. You are not immune against handsome people after all. You tried moving away from him slightly but his hands stayed firm on your shoulders and could feel his gaze on you like needle pricks on your skin. you definitely do not dare looking him in the eye.

"You have to look where you're going or you might get seriously hurt next time" He mused. He may be attractive but he's definitely a jerk.

"It's impossible to see down here it's so dark..." you mutter under your breath and quickly move to side to walk past him, he let's go this time rejoice that your attempt to escape the harassing captain is successful, desperate to get away from this weird atmosphere you have created. Unfortunately for you, the universe have other plans  as he start walking behind you in the same direction you are and boy, is it awkward.

After a bit of walking you start to get a bit suspicious though. Was he following you around, waiting for you to get lost so that he could make a smartass comment about it? He is the kind of person who would find great amusement in petty bullshit like that for sure but then again you do have a tendency of assuming the worst in every situation. You decide to test this theory out by steeping to the side and make as much room as you could in the hallway and drop down to pretend fixing your shoelace. Instead of trying to walk past you he stops completely right behind you. You move as slow as you can without arising suspicion but he so kindly wait patiently behind you. When you're done "tying your shoelace" and stand up to continue your journey he follows close behind.

Oh hell no.

You can handle rudeness but this is some psychological warfare or foul play that you want no part of. No matter how handsome the guy is you will not stand for this kind of fuckery. You make a sudden halt and quickly turn around to kindly tell him to fuck off.

"Do you need something from me?" you ask with as much calm you can currently muster, irritation building up behind your customer service smile but he doesn't say anything and only look at you with the same dumb face as before. Almost like he's sizing you up before a fight. Possibly with even more disgust this time.

This Motherfucker.

When he still doesn't say anything for several seconds you just decide to be the bigger person and turn around to start walking again. Of course, with him still following you. It's better to just ignore him and he'll go away, you know where you're going. You finally reached Ikkaku's room and gather up the few items that belong to you when he finally speak up.

"You don't have a room assigned yet right?" You gave him a somewhat puzzled look. That's what he needed to know? That is why he followed you?? To ask you this???

"No? why?" You admit cautiously, almost preparing for him to start fighting you or using his power to "confiscate" one of your organs. For a brief second you could've sworn you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes you know that something bad is brewing. The cogs of evil are turning in his mind and you know that whatever comes out of his mouth next will undoubtedly mean bad news for you.

"I have an idea"

[meet-the-decoy]

Hey Decoy! What exactly is your role on the battle field?

MEET THE DECOY

Description

It isn't hard to see that she is the fairest one on the team. Decoy isn't afraid to use her feminine touch to her advantage and being on a team with mostly men has it's perks. But don't be fooled, this girl isn't as sweet as she looks. She's a babe with quite a bite.

Primary

Stock

- Duel pistols: (ammo 12/36 each)

Craft

- Boxing glove gun: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to punch an opponent with as much force as a Heavy.

- Pole vault: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy a 20% boost on acrobatics.

-Mini canon: (ammo 20) 

Is similar to Soldier's rocket launcher. Each shot takes several seconds to reload but gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down agility.

Uncrate

- Chainsaw: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage at close range. Won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Bear trap: (ammo N/A)

Traps enemies for several seconds while giving mini crits. Can only be used once every 30 seconds.

- Water pistols: (ammo 100 each)

Counteracts Pyro fires. This weapon extinguishes teammates that are ablaze as well as sapping the enemy Engineer's buildings.

Secondary

Stock

- Hand grenades: (ammo 20)

Craft

- Fireworks: (ammo 20)

This weapon creates flash bangs and blinds the enemy for several seconds and can also light enemies on fire depending on range.

- Taser: (ammo N/A)

Electrifies enemies and paralyzes them for up to 3 seconds. Effects enemies differently. Has a cool down time of 3 seconds.

- Sling shot: (ammo 20)

Let's Decoy launch grenades just as far as a Demoman, letting her throw them farther then she originally could. It can also be used to launch health kits to teammates.

- Water Balloons: (ammo 20)

Extinguishes teammates who are on fire. It also washes way Jarate from teammates who may be covered in it.

Uncrate

- Throwing knives: (ammo 12)

Allows Decoy to trick stab like a Spy but at longer distances. Can be used during acrobatics.

- Playing cards: (ammo 3 decks)

Cards can slice enemies to inflict damage. Cards can be boomeranged back to be reused if thrown correctly.

- Grappling hook: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to get to higher nesting spots with ease. Boosts acrobatics by 5%. Grapple can be shot at enemies to finish off kills.

Melee

Stock

- Bullwhip: (ammo N/A)

Craft

- Chain: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down acrobatics by 15% as a result.

- Spider net: (ammo 8)

Bounds enemies for several seconds. This also leaves the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical damage.

- Roller skates: (ammo N/A)

Allows Decoy to match the speed of that of a Scout. Decoy won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Megaphone: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's vocals and lures enemies easier.

Uncrate

- Lipstick: (ammo N/A)

Ables Decoy to give a teammate ÜberCharge for 3 seconds by kissing them. This weapon also restores a teammates health by 50%. Gives critical damage to enemies.

- Mirror: (ammo N/A)

Blinds the enemy for 3 seconds by shining light in the enemy's eyes. This weapon is most effective on Snipers.

- Ribbon wand: (ammo N/A)

Steals 15% of an enemy's ammo. Ammo can be given to other teammates or can be used personally.

- Perfume: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's lures. Perfume can also be used to disorient enemies for several seconds. No man can resist the smell of flowers and gunpowder.

PDA

Primary

- Acrobatics

Secondary

- Vocal

Special Taunts

• Song Bird

This taunt makes enemies vision blur whenever they get to close to her singing. This makes the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical hits.

• Damsel in Distress

This taunt gives Decoy the ability to make enemies hurt their own teammates. Every shot that hits a teammate will lower their health depending on distance different variables. Can only be used once every 3 minutes.

• Blowing Kisses

This taunt has the Decoy blow a kiss at the enemy. Whoever the kiss lands on receives critical damage. If the kiss lands on a teammate, it restores their health by 15%.

• Love Me, Love Me Not

This taunt has Decoy pick pedals off of a flower. If a heart appears, then the enemy walks free. If a broken heart appears then the enemy receives critical damage. This taunt gives a 50/50 chance each time it is used.

• Love Potion No.9

Can be slipped into any food or beverage. Once consumed, the enemy cannot hurt Decoy up to 10 seconds. This taunt can only be used 3 times during a match.

• Milkshake

In this taunt, Decoy pulls out a tray and proceeds to make and serve milkshakes to anyone who takes them. Decoy serves any flavor of milkshake to her teammates to boost their health level much like Heavy's Sandvich, but is far sweeter.

Achievements

• Master Maiden: Achieve over 50 'Blowing Kisses' taunt kills.

• Golden Gal: Seduce kill each class in one round.

• Lucky Lady: Dodge 5 airblasted rockets using acrobatics.

• Flirting with Death: Lure a Scout over 100 times

• Here to Save The Day: Protect a struggling teammate more than 5 times in one round.

• The Angelic Acrobat: Save a teammate over 20 times by throwing back a Demoman's grenade using acrobatics.

• Dangerous Dame: Seduce kill 500 times.

• Kiss it Better: Heal over 75 teammates using 'Blowing Kisses' taunt or by using Lipstick melee.

Domination Lines

SCOUT

"So you're the fastest man alive, huh? Is that why you can't get a date?"

"Why so red tough guy?"

"I like a guy who can make me laugh."

"Hey, my eyes are up here scooter."

"Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth."

SOLDIER

"If I threw a stick, you’d leave, right?"

"Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once in awhile, but you really abuse the privilege."

"You look good with black and blue."

"Are you always such an idiot, or do you just show off when I’m around?"

"I was hoping for a battle of wits but it would be wrong to attack someone who’s totally unarmed."

PYRO

"I AM a woman, what's your excuse?"

"Still think your on fire?"

"What in the hell? What are you supposed to be?"

"Did things get really hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Earth is full. Go home."

ENGINEER

"Whoopsie, did I do that?"

"Look at the cute little toys! Can I play with one?"

"You only annoy me when you’re breathing, really."

"Your birth certificate is an apology to your parents from the hospital."

"How impressive! You can put your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass at the same time!"

HEAVY

"So... do you name your guns because you can't get a real date or?..."

"Oh wow, this must be pretty embarrassing for you."

"Are your compensating for something?"

"Jesus christ, You’re so fat you could sell shade."

"You are the human version of period cramps."

DEMOMAN

"Sorry, but you won't be able to drink away the alcoholism."

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, you'll lose your accent."

"*sad crying that turns into cruel laughter*"

"You’ll never be the man your mom is."

"Nice onesie, does it come in men's?"

"Aww, Do you need me to kiss your boo-boo better?"

MEDIC

"Excuse me nurse, could you take a look at this for me?"

"They took your license away for a reason doctor."

"Oh! I like your dress!"

"If laughter is the best medicine, your face must be curing the world."

SNIPER

"That's disgusting."

"Isn’t there a bullet somewhere you could be jumping in front of?"

"Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you need to act like one."

"I’ve been called worse by better."

"There’s no doubt about it. Your father should have pulled out earlier."

SPY

"Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey croissant, your fly’s undone."

"If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."

"Acting like a prick doesn’t make yours grow bigger."

"Je n'ai jamais pensé rencontrer un homme sans couilles."

DECOY

"You're not cute sweetheart."

"See, this is why the men don't take us seriously."

"Nice outfit. I bet if you stood on a street corner, you’d make some money."

"Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because your boyfriend thinks so."

"I’ve seen your kind before…but last time, I had to pay admission.

Backstory

Decoy (Delilah Lou Rose) was born April 1st, 1941 in a backstage tent and grew up as a acrobatic clown in the Canadian Circus.

She was brought to the Administrator's attention when she slaughtered a total of 12 men with ease during a break in and attempted assault. A meeting with Saxton Hale eventually led to a job offer. Needing the money, she takes a job with the Gravel wars, thinking it was a show. Once she realizes that it is in fact not a show, but a place where men kill each other, it's too late.

Delilah Lou became a new class called the Decoy, where she would lure unsuspecting men to their death. It wasn't long before she fell in love with the job and grew strong friendships with her coworkers.

[livesincerely]

invisible strings (tying you to me)

Also on Ao3. Rated E. 

Disclaimer, this is an A/B/O fic, which I recognize is not everyone’s cup of tea, so skip over this one if that’s not something you’re a fan of. <3

00000

It’s the smell that catches Jack’s attention first⁠—a citrusy sweet scent that drifts into Newsies Square with the morning breeze. Jack tilts his head, glancing up and down the street for the source, wondering if he can afford to spare a few cents for a morning pastry because he needs a bite of whatever that is, can already feel his mouth watering in anticipation… and then he sees Les and Davey break through the crowd. 

Les is oddly subdued, staying close to his brother’s side, and Davey looks off, somehow, in a way that Jack can’t quite but his finger on, his mouth pursed and his eyes bright with irritation and… and…

There’s another gust of wind and that delicious smell hits again, even stronger this time, and holy shit, that’s Davey.

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stands on end.

“Hi, Jack,” Les greets quickly, before peeling off to go join the littles in their daily pre-work game of marbles.

“Hey, bud,” Jack responds, a few seconds too late for Les to hear him, his eyes fixed unerringly on Davey. Now that he’s closer Jack can see how flushed he is⁠—his eyes a touch glassy and his face and neck shaded pink with fever⁠—which is far more distracting than it has any right to be. “Uh, Dave? You doin’ alright?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I’m in pre-heat,” Davey says, and the edge of sarcasm in his voice does nothing to dull the way those words hit Jack like a punch to the gut. “Then, yes, I’m in pre-heat.”

“And that’s… okay?” Jack says, trying to find a delicate way to ask if it’s good idea for Davey to be out and about in this state.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Davey says, in a tone that indicates that he’s already had this conversation a few times this morning. “Just because my cycle’s coming up doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to—” He cuts off abruptly, nostrils flaring, but Jack hears the rest of that sentence loud and clear: Doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to knot me. 

Which is an image that Jack really didn’t need put in his head.

“I know it doesn’t,” Jack says carefully, dragging his wandering mind back to the present. “I’m not sayin’ anythin’ of the sort. But Racer gets cramps like you wouldn’t believe and Blink’s nose gets so sensitive he can’t hardly stand to be out in the city, let alone hawk papes all day. I guess I’m jus’ sayin’...” He pauses, searching for a way to put this into words without invoking any more of Davey’s ire. “I jus’ wanted to check, ya know? Check and...”

Davey looks at him, and then the defensive set of his shoulders relaxes slightly. 

“...You just wanted to make sure,” Davey finishes softly. “Of course you did, you’re Jack, you don’t know how to be anything but stupidly overprotective.” He shakes his head and sighs, then continues, “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you, but it’s already been a rough morning and I’m a little on edge. But I’m okay, honestly, just feeling a bit achy and, well, irritable, as you can see.”

“Fair enough,” Jack says. “I hadta ask, but if ya say it’s fine, then I believe ya. I mean, you’re the one that’d know, right?”

Jack feels like he’s working with only half of his brain, just standing there stating the obvious like a goddamn moron and trying not to breathe too deeply lest the cloud of Davey scent send him into a complete tailspin, but Davey smiles at him like he’s said something incredible.

“Right,” Davey agrees, his scent cresting even sweeter as his expression lifts. “Exactly.” 

They stare at each other, the moment stretching on and on. 

Davey takes a step back and clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Well, we should probably get going.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jack agrees, giving himself a little shake⁠—like that might clear some of Davey’s scent from his nose. It doesn’t, of course, but a fella can hope. “Sure, of course. “

“So, um, how many more days do you think you’ll be able to work?” Jack asks as they get in line for their papes⁠—not wanting to push but needing to know what he’s in for. “Before it, uh, hits for real?”

“My cycles tend to be pretty mild, so maybe another couple of days at least?” Davey says, nonchalant, and Jack’s brain stutters like an engine misfiring. “I can’t really afford to miss too many days of work, so I’m going to try and wait it out for as long as I can. But I’ll play it by ear.”

Jack swallows heavily. Davey already smells goddamn delicious, like spiced citrus and orange blossoms, all surrounded by a heady honey-sweetness, and it’s only going to get stronger. If this is what counts as mild, then Jack’s not sure he’ll survive for another two days.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “Sure, that makes sense.”

They move steadily up the line. Jack knows that Davey is talking to him but he’s having a hard time paying attention⁠ to the conversation—even harder than usual. Everything about Davey seems especially enticing today: Jack finds his gaze lingering on the swell of his lower lip, plump and pink, on the gentle flutter of his lashes, perfectly framed around those big blue eyes, on the long, lean line of his throat, and of course, there’s still that intoxicating scent. 

Jack realizes that Davey’s asked him a question and has been waiting several seconds for an answer, quickly stammering out, “Uh, yeah, definitely.”

Davey frowns. Jack panics.

“Hey, Kelly, Jacobs,” Morris DeLancey calls, annoyed, and Jack’s never been grateful for a DeLancey in his life, but apparently there’s a first for everything. “Are ya buyin’ your papes or what? You’re holdin’ us up.”

Jack fishes in his pockets with fumbling hands, hurriedly handing over the money while Davey collects the papes.

“Hey, Oscar,” Davey says after thumbing through the stack, passing them to Jack once he’s through counting them. “We’re one short.”

DeLancey shrugs⁠—like he couldn’t care less about cheating them out of a pape⁠, the bastard—and goes to hand Davey another one, but then he pauses, head cocked and nose twitching as he catches a scent. He snatches the pape back just as Davey reaches for it. 

“Sure you wanna be hittin’ the streets there, Jacobs?” he says with a smirk, a dark glint in his eye. “You’re smellin’ a little… ripe for the takin’, if ya know what I mean. Might wanna⁠—”

Davey’s scent goes pungently bitter⁠—to the point that Jack staggers back a little at the strength of it. He pins DeLancey with a glare so withering that he falters mid word.

“Give me my fucking newspaper,” Davey bites out, his voice absolutely dripping with contempt.

There’s a distinct note of fear threading through the air as DeLancey holds the pape out again. Davey rips it from his hand so violently that the thing nearly tears in half, then stalks away, fuming.

“You really don’t got a single lick of sense, do ya, DeLancey?” Jack says with a sneer, then hurries after him.

“That fucking asshole,” Davey spits out when Jack catches up to him, almost too furious to speak. “Fucking DeLancey and his alpha posturing bullshit.”

“You wanna go back over there and punch him?” Jack offers, and he keeps his tone light but he’s deadly serious. “I’ll hold his arms for ya.”

Davey takes in a breath, then lets it out slowly, visibly straining for calm. 

“No,” he eventually grits out. “No, it’s not worth it.”

“Do ya need a second?”

“I just want to get this day over with,” Davey admits, expression torn between frustration and weariness.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jack promises. He can’t pull Davey into a hug the way he wants to⁠—that will put his nose a little too close to Davey’s neck and he doesn’t trust himself not to just press his face against Davey’s scent gland and inhale⁠—so he settles for a simple pat on the back. “Let’s grab Les and shake a leg.”

For a second it feels like Davey sways on his feet, leaning ever so slightly into the contact, but the moment passes so quickly that Jack can’t be sure it ain’t just wishful thinking on his part. They start heading over to Les, but then a sudden thought occurs to him.

“Jackie?” Davey questions, when he notices that Jack’s stopped walking.

“One sec,” Jack says, turning back towards the distribution line. “I wanna see if one of the fellas can come with us today.”

He tries to say this as casually as possible, but of course Davey sees right through him, hitting Jack with a look—the one that says he thinks Jack’s being ridiculous.

“We don’t need a chaperone, Jackie,” he says firmly, like even just offering the possibility is absurd. “You’re nothing like Oscar DeLancey, you’re not going to hurt me.”

Something in Jack preens at this statement, impossibly pleased at Davey’s faith in him. But this isn’t something Jack’s willing to budge on.

“It’d make me feel better to have someone else watchin’ your back. Someone that for sure won’t get caught up in any ‘alpha posturing bullshit,’” he says, mimicking Davey’s tone from before.

“Fine,” Davey says, rolling his eyes even as a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “If that’s what you want. But I really don’t think that would’ve been an issue.”

Jack thinks that Davey’s giving him far too much credit, or is just drastically underestimating how good he smells. But he doesn’t say any of that, instead continuing to scan through the throng of Newsies that haven’t set off yet, searching for someone who’d be down to accompany them.

“Hey, Racer,” Jack calls when he spots him, waving to get his attention. “Come sellin’ with us?”

Racetrack wanders over, glances between Jack and Davey and then back to Jack, and catches onto the crux of the matter immediately. “Yeah, sure,” he agrees. “No such thing as too much back up.”

“Race, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Davey says, “helping me team up against Jack, not the other way around. Where’s the omega solidarity?”

“Ain’t you the one always tellin’ me to stop taking stupid risks?” Racer asks, somewhat absently, looking over Davey with a critical eye. “Hey, Davey, can I give you a hug? You look like ya need one.”

Davey opens his arms immediately. “Oh my god, yes, please.”

Racer is several inches shorter, but he makes a valiant attempt at wrapping Davey up in his arms. A rush of seething jealousy hits Jack like a wave breaking against the rocks, but he fights it down as best he can because he knows he’s being an idiot.

Jack doesn’t need to step between them, doesn’t need to tear Davey from Race’s grasp, doesn’t need to bare his teeth at him for daring to put his hands on Jack’s— 

Jack doesn’t need to do any of that. Jack doesn’t need to do anything at all, except find a nice dark hole to drop himself into, or maybe run headlong into a brick wall and spend the rest of Davey’s heat blissfully unconscious, because he doesn’t know how else he’s gonna make it through.

Race curls his fingers around the nape of Davey’s neck, Davey let out a soft, contented noise, sinking further into the embrace, and Jack has to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out for him.

He is so fucked.

00000

It’s ain’t the worst morning Jack’s ever had, but it’s damn sure up there. He’d spent the walk out talking with Les⁠—or, really, letting Les chatter at him a mile-a-minute and very carefully not looking at where Racetrack and Davey are walking arm in arm, heads tipped together as they whisper and laugh.

But it’s when they actually start working that things really take a turn for the worse. Jack’s only putting the barest bit of effort into sellin’ his papes, most of his attention focused on where Race and Davey are selling just down the street. Davey seems like he’s doing okay to begin with, but as the morning rush continues, Jack notices that he’s getting a lot of... unwanted attention, to say the least. He and Race look like they have it well in hand, but by midday Davey is visibly tense, shoulders hunched up around his ears and looking like he might beat the next person that so much as looks at him wrong bloody with a rolled up newspaper.

Jack foists one last pape off to a random passerby, barely even waiting long enough to take their coin, then makes his way over. As he approaches, he sees Race and Davey exchange a few words, with Davey disappearing into a nearby alley for what looks like a well-deserved breather. 

“How is he?” Jack asks quietly, nodding his head towards where Davey is pacing and muttering to himself, incensed.

“He could be doin’ better,” Race admits, running a hand through his hair, brow furrowed with concern. “It feels like every other person that passes has got somethin’ smart to say. Asshole customers ain’t nothin’ new, but he’s gettin’ harassed pretty bad and he ain’t in any kinda mindset to put up with it.”

“You think someone’s gonna try somethin’?” Jack asks seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know they ain’t exactly the same, but you can usually make it to at least your second day of pre-heat before anyone gets handsy.”

“I ain’t worried about that, his scent ain’t anywhere close to peaking,” Race says, shaking his head. “Though, I guess anythin’s possible. I’m more worried that the next person that sniffs too hard is gonna get their lights punched out.”

Jack considers this. Pre-heat can come with a variety of symptoms, and different omegas are prone to different ones. Racetrack tends to get horribly painful cramps and turns into an absolute cuddle monster, crawling all over anyone who will sit still and pet his hair for a few minutes. Blink’s senses get super sensitive, usually sending him into the safety of a nest for several days, refusing to let anyone touch him unless they’ve washed the stink of the streets from their skin. Davey, it seems, is the type that runs hot, both his fever and his temper, which is such a departure from his usual disposition that it’s almost comical. 

Because Davey is normally as steady as an oak tree, impossibly patient and put together. His anger is like water in a dam⁠—carefully contained and difficult to surmount, but with a hard limit nonetheless. But now with his heat coming on, that dam seems like it’s dangerously close to bursting.

“Let’s try and keep it from gettin’ that far,” Jack says with a wince. “The last thing Davey needs is to get arrested for murder.”

“So you’re gonna talk him into goin’ home?” Race asks, looking relieved at the prospect. 

“I’m gonna try.”

Jack steps over to where Davey is pacing up and down the alley. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles showing white through the skin, and his citrusy-sweet scent gone almost acidic with aggression. 

“Hey, Davey,” Jack says gently as he approaches. “Maybe you should just go ahead and call it quits for the day.”

Davey whirls around, eyes on fire. “I am just fine—!”

“You are not fine,” Jack says calmly. “And I’m not even talking about your heat, though I’m sure that ain’t making things any easier on you.” 

He steps forward, running a hand soothingly along Davey’s arm, then catching his wrist in his palm and squeezing it lightly. “Querido, you smell like you’re two seconds from kicking someone’s teeth in, and that’s from a block and a half away. You’re fucking miserable.”

Davey deflates, his head hanging low. “I could keep selling,” he says, but it’s a weak protest. “I could.”

I know you could, if ya had to,” Jack assures him. “But ya don’t have to. You don’t got nothin’ to prove to nobody, you hear me? People are dicks, that ain’t your fault.”

“Newsies code: if you’re walking, you’re working,” Davey counters stubbornly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “I’m walking, so I should be working.”

“I never shoulda told ya about that stupid code,” Jack says softly, shaking his head. “All ya do is use it as a excuse to work yourself into the ground.” He steps closer, tapping at Davey’s chin with his forefinger until he meets his eyes. “Davey, it’s okay to need a day. All of us need a day every now and then⁠⁠—this ain’t no different than those times when Crutchie needs a break to rest his leg or last month when Albert had that bad cold that knocked him on his ass. It happens. So stop bein’ so hard headed and take care of yourself for once, yeah?”

Davey huffs out a laugh. “You’re one to talk about being hard headed, Jackie,” he says, deflecting, and maybe some other time Jack would let him shrug his concerns aside, but not this time.

“Dave, I’m serious,” Jack says. “We got your back, okay? We’ll keep an eye on Les, split up your usual share of papes between the lot of us, and sell as many as we can. It’ll all work out⁠; just let us help you, alright?”

“Alright,” Davey finally agrees. 

“Thank you, Dave,” Jack says, and he pulls him into a hug.

Davey comes easily into the embrace, hooking his chin over Jack’s shoulder and leaning into him with a soft sigh. Then he lets out a tiny, startled noise and all but collapses against Jack’s chest.

“Dave!” Jack yelps, hands flying to Davey’s waist to steady him. He’s gone completely limp, his knees buckling out from under him, eyes glazed over. “Davey, what⁠—?”

And then Jack smells it. 

Jesus Christ does he smell it.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I thought you said ya had a couple more days before it hit?” Jack exclaims, shifting Davey around until he can cradle him against his chest. He can feel the heat pouring off of Davey even through his layers of clothes, sweat starting to bead fresh at his temple.

“I do,” Davey says, but it comes out as more of a moan, tucking his nose right against Jack’s scent gland and inhaling shakily. Jack’s fingers tighten around his waist of their own accord. “I… It never hits early, it always comes… exactly… on time.”

But it’s undeniable. Davey’s blown right through the early stages and is revving up into a full-blown heat: right here, right now. 

Davey’s hands find the front of Jack’s shirt, clenching the fabric tight between his fists, his breaths coming in short, desperate pants. His scent has kicked up tenfold, saturating the air with citrus-sugar-honey-spice, and Jack can feel himself starting to lose it, his own scent spiking as he starts to spiral. 

Jack wants him. Wants to pin him up against the nearest flat surface and lick him all over. Wants to press his teeth against all that pretty, perfect skin until he’s covered in Jack’s scent and Jack’s marks. Wants to claim. Wants to make Davey his.

“Race!” Jack calls out. He tries to focus, tries breathing through his mouth instead, but it does absolute fuck all to help⁠—now he can taste Davey on his tongue. “Racetrack!”

Race comes running, skidding to a stop just inside the mouth of the alley, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, alarmed.

“Help,” Jack pleads, struggling to think rationally under the onslaught of Davey, but it’s like walking against the tide. His hands sit heavy on Davey’s hips, just barely resisting the urge to pull him closer, but also unable to push him away. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out. “Tony, help.”

Racetrack takes a cautious step forward.

“Okay, Jack, how about we just⁠—” Racetrack puts his hand on Jack’s arm, trying to coax him into letting go, and Davey fucking growls, his lip curling back in a full-on snarl, an unmistakable declaration of back the fuck off, which is possibly the hottest thing Jack’s ever seen in his life. 

“Or not!” Race yelps, quickly backing away, both hands raised in surrender. “Not is fine too, holy shit.”

“Fuck, Race, I’m so sorry,” Davey says, groaning in embarrassment, head falling against Jack’s chest. “I didn’t mean to⁠— What is wrong with me?”

“You’re in heat,” Race says, like that isn’t obvious at this point. “Your instincts are takin’ over.”

“But it’s never…” Davey struggles to find the words, starting to succumb to the heat haze once again. “It’s never like this.”

Race inches forward once again, this time moving towards Davey; Davey stiffens at his approach but manages to keep his head, standing stock still in the circle of Jack’s arms.

“Let go of Jack, Davey,” Race murmurs, tugging lightly at the bottom of Davey’s vest. Davey’s hands fist even tighter in the fabric of Jack’s shirt, a low whine building steadily somewhere in the back of his throat. It takes everything Jack has not to react to the sound of it, to keep his grip open and loose instead of pulling Davey in tight like every fiber of his being is screaming at him to. “You gotta let him go.” 

Davey trembles, his scent souring with distress, and that’s even worse somehow⁠—like a shot straight to the heart. Jack clenches his jaw, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he doesn’t move.

Racetrack says, “Davey, let go.”

There’s an infinitely long pause. Then, with a pained whimper, Davey’s hands drop back to his sides. Jack forces himself take a step back, and then another, and then another⁠—until Davey is safely out of arm’s reach⁠.

“Take him home,” Jack pants out, because if he doesn’t say it now he’s not sure he’ll be able to get the words out at all. It feels like someone’s sent an electric current up his spine⁠, liquid fire spreading through his veins: scorchingly hot and and almost painfully strong. “Racetrack, get him home.”

Racetrack cups a hand around Davey’s elbow, helping him lean against a stack of shipping pallets. Then he looks back over at Jack.

“Go get Les,” Race instructs him. “Tell him what’s going on. Then swing by West Avenue and find Specs, he should be closest, and send him this way.”

“Okay,” Jack says, but he doesn’t move. He’s still staring at Davey, at the furrow between his brow and the tense line of his shoulders, at the sweat beading across his forehead and unhappy set of his mouth. Every inch of him is screaming hurtdangerprotecthelpfix to Jack frazzled instincts.

Jack wants to have him, hold him, comfort him, protect him. He needs to protect him, needs to with a sort of all-encompassing intensity that makes his fucking bones ache. Just the thought of leaving him feels like tearing his own heart out of his chest.

“Jack,” Racetrack insists. “You need to go, okay? You being here is only gonna make it worse.”

But the first thing he needs protection from is Jack, and that understanding is what finally gives Jack the strength to stagger away, to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from Davey. 

“Jack?” Davey whimpers, and Jack can’t. He can’t. He can’t leave him, he can’t leave him here, Davey needs him, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. “Jack.”

But somehow, Jack does.

00000

Jack is absolutely impossible to live with for the next couple of days, and even though he knows it, recognizes that he’s stalking around the Lodging House like a particularly pissed off bear, he can’t make himself stop.

All he can think about is Davey⁠: the look on his face, the bright blue of his eyes, the way he felt in Jack’s arms, and that unforgettable scent. 

Jack’s not an idiot, he knows what Davey’s doing right now⁠. Imagines the long expanse of flushed, sweaty skin, spread deliciously across his bed. Eyes closed and lips parted, head thrown back. Muscles flexing, fingers clenching, hips working.

Jack presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, like that might stop the endless stream of images flickering through his mind, trying to will away his erection before it can fully form because if he has to jack it any more today his dick might actually fall off.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Davey like this. It’s rude and demeaning and perverted all kinds of other adjectives that basically add up to this: Davey is his best friend and Jack is a fucking asshole, no better than any other knot-head alpha on the street, completely losing control of himself like some sort of animal. 

He doesn’t have any claim to Davey, he doesn’t⁠—not that his heart or his instincts are willing to accept the truth of that fact. Davey deserves better, deserves to be treated with all the respect and care in the world, deserves someone that will be able to keep up with that sharp mind and sharper tongue, someone that can give him stability and comfort and a good life.

Someone better than Jack.

But even just thinking about Davey with some hypothetical somebody sets Jack’s teeth on edge, makes his eyes flash red and a growl rumble through his chest. He throws himself back against the rooftop with a groan, angry and embarrassed and aroused and guilty. God—fucking⁠—damn it.

There’s a knock on the rooftop door, and then Crutchie’s head peeks out.

“Hey, Jack,” he says, voice gentle the way all of the Newsies’ voices have been the last couple of days, Jack’s fluctuating scent putting everyone on edge. Another wave of guilt rises up in him but Jack works to choke it back, trying not to let anything seep out. No one else should have to deal with Jack’s issues. “Uh, don’t freak out, but Sarah’s downstairs. She says she needs to talk to you, and it sounds like it’s serious.”

Jack jolts to his feet, heart in his throat. Because he knows, he knows, that this is about Davey.

Something’s wrong, a voice whispers in Jack’s ear, wronghurthelpwherefix. 

Someone, maybe Racer or Finch, has lead Sarah to the side room just off the main hall. She smells agitated, her long hair thrown up in a messy bun and her nails bitten down to the quick, fiddling with a loose string on her blouse. She looks up when she hears them enter and her eyes are shaded dark with worry; Jack’s heart kicks into double time.

“I’ll give you the room,” Crutchie says, going to leave.

“Actually, Crutchie,” Sarah interjects, biting her lip. “Would you mind staying? I think that would probably be for the best.”

Jack goes stiff. He doesn’t like the implications of that request⁠—that whatever she’s about to tell him is so bad that she thinks he’ll need Crutchie for support.

“Jack,” Crutchie says, rubbing at his nose. “At least let her talk before you start freakin’ out.”

Jack nods and makes a concerted effort to tamp down his scent, knowing that the crazy, distressed alpha pheromones he’s putting out aren’t pleasant for anyone. 

He’ll let Sarah talk. He’ll be calm. It’ll be okay.

“What’s wrong?” Jack blurts out. “What’s⁠— Is it Davey? Is he okay?”

“He’s… not doing great,” Sarah quietly admits, and a spike of fear hits Jack so strongly that he goes dizzy with it.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“This heat hit him really hard,” Sarah says, and there’s a tiniest hint of a tremor in her voice, which for Sarah might as well be a wave of tears. “I’ve never seen him like this. He can’t sleep, can’t keep any food or water down, and he’s burning hot and nothing we try can get the fever to break. We asked the nurse who lives downstairs to come look at him, and she thinks it’s the result of some kind of incomplete scent bond⁠—that Davey’s body thinks he has an alpha, has found his mate, and the heat won’t be soothed without them.”

“Okay,” Jack says, raking a hand through his hair, feeling a little like he might shake out of his skin. “Okay, well, does Davey know who he’s scent bonded to? A scent bond only happens ‘cause of a courtship, right? So he must know who it is.”

Jack’s stomach churns. He can’t imagine how he’s missed the signs of a courtship, or why Davey wouldn’t have told him about it. 

Unless, Jack realizes, heart sinking, unless he figured it out. Unless he found out about Jack’s feelings and chose not to tell him about his suitor. About the person he actually wants. The person he wants to mat⁠—

Jack staggers to the nearest wall and leans against it. “Who is it?” he grits out. “Who…?”

Sarah and Crutchie exchange a glance, one full of shared understanding. Jack has a brief moment of betrayal, outraged that Crutchie knows who Davey’s been courting with too, that maybe it’s some kind of shared secret that everyone else knows about but Jack⁠—

“It’s you,” Sarah says. “Jack, it’s you.”

“What?” Jack breathes.

“It’s you,” Sarah repeats. “Of course it’s you. Jack, who else would it be?”

Jack blinks, then blinks again. He’s hearing her words but it’s like he can’t internalize what she’s saying, the information hitting his ears, then bouncing away without sticking.

“....Me?”

“Yes,” Sarah says, the tone of her voice starting to edge towards exasperated. “Davey’s instincts think you’re his mate, that’s why his heat flared up early when he was with you and why it’s been so bad.”

But that’s impossible, Jack thinks, and he tells her as much. “We ain’t even courting, there can’t be a scent bond.”

“Maybe you haven’t said the words, ‘hey, can I court you?’” Sarah disagrees, shaking her head. “But you’ve definitely been treating him like he’s an omega you’re courting.”

Jack stares at her. Sarah heaves a massive sigh.

“Jack, the two of you are so mated it’s disgusting,” she informs him. “You practically live in each other’s pockets, scenting each other, sharing food and clothes, super protective and possessive of each other. The only surprising part about all this is that you’re not mated already.”

“You look at Davey like he’s the center of your world, Jack,” Crutchie chimes in. “He’s the only one that’s always able to calm you down, the only one that’s always allowed into your space. We’ve all been waiting for you to get together for ages.”

Jack’s thoughts whirl and whirl. 

“Okay, fine,” he eventually says, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s no big secret that I’m in love with Davey, but are you sure I’m the one he’s scent bonded to? Just ‘cause I want him doesn’t mean he wants me back⁠⁠—maybe he’s got some kinda private courtship thing goin’ on that he jus’ hasn’t told us about⁠⁠.”

“It’s you,” Sarah says flatly.

“Okay, then are ya sure that it’s a mating thing?” Jack asks. “Because yeah, I’m enough of an lovestruck idiot that I’ll buy that I was accidentally courting Davey⁠—” He can feel the back of his neck heating up in mortification even as he says it. “—but are you sure Davey actually wants this, that it ain’t just his heat talking? Maybe he didn’t mean to… reciprocate or whatever, and the scent bond was an accident. Maybe he don’t actually want me⁠—”

Sarah reaches out and slaps him over the head. “Ow, Sarah, what⁠—?”

“Stupid, overprotective alphas,” she says with a scoff. “Always thinking they know best. Davey’s asking for you, okay? He wants you. If you’re not ready to take the next step, not brave enough to admit how you feel then, fine, whatever, but at least have the guts to come out and say it instead of pretending like Davey doesn’t know what he wants just because he’s in heat⁠—”

“Wait,” Jack interrupts, dumbfounded, because there’s no way he just heard Sarah say what he thinks she said. “He actually said he wanted me? He asked for me, specifically?”

“Davey’s in love with you,” Sarah says, with the strong implication of ‘you goddamn moron’ underneath. “Of course he asked for you.”

The ground shifts and spins beneath Jack’s feet. Oh.

Sarah seems to take Jack’s stunned silence for hesitation. 

“Look, if you’re really that against it⁠—if it’s making you uncomfortable⁠—then you don’t have to help,” she says, starting to worry the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “But, the nurse told us that if the alpha he’s bonded to can’t help him, then the only other option is to take him to a heat clinic.”

Jack’s vision blurs red. He must lose a few seconds because the next thing he’s aware of is Sarah’s furrowed brow, her eyes darting worriedly between Jack and Crutchie, who’s startled away. Jack doesn’t have to look at him to know that Crutchie has covered his nose and mouth with his hand in a futile attempt to block out Jack’s scent, which has gone absolutely acrid in response to this statement.

Sarah’s nose wrinkles, and then she sneezes twice in quick succession. “I’m guessing you’d rather not let that happen?” she delicately asks.

“No,” Jack says, his voice rumbling somewhere low in his chest. “No, not if he’s… Not if he really…” He stares at Sarah again, expression hard. “You swear this is what he asked for?” he demands. “You’re sure he wants me?”

“I’m sure,” Sarah says, gently, like she knows how important it is for Jack to hear it. “Jack, he’s been asking for you since his heat started. He begged for me to come get you. I’m sure.”

Jack swallows, then lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.”

00000

“Wait here,” Sarah says. Jack blinks, then realizes that between one moment and the next they’ve made it all the way to the Jacobs’ building. “It’s just Mama and Davey upstairs, but I’ll tell them you’re here.”

Jack gives a jerky nod and Sarah disappears inside, returning some twenty minutes later with Mrs. Jacobs and a suitcase.

“How’s he doin’?’” Jack asks, skin tight with worry and anticipation.

Sarah shakes her head. “Not great,” she says. “It’s a good thing you came, I don’t think he could’ve handled much more of this.”

“Hello, Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, and she looks exhausted but her scent is tinged with relief. “Did Sarah tell you everything?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack says. “I⁠—”

Jack tenses, nostrils flaring, and he whips around just as a third person exits the Jacobs’ building. Jack manages to keep from growling at the unfamiliar person but only just barely, and it’s a good thing he does. Because this alpha is older, at least fifteen or twenty years older than Davey’s mother, and is so obviously not any kind of romantic competition that Jack feels more than a bit stupid for letting his senses get away from him.

As if she knows exactly what he’s thinking, the other Alpha lets out a dismissive snort, pinning him with a look that’s thoroughly unimpressed, and Jack feels something inside him stand at attention. She might not be competition, but Jack has no doubt that she could still lay him out on the concrete if she wanted to.

“This is the one?” she barks out.

“Yes, Mrs. Lansdon, this is Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs confirms with a nod. “He’s the boy Davey’s bonded to.”

“And what on Earth possessed you to court and scent bond with an omega, only to abandon him when he needs you most?” Mrs. Lansdon asks him, raising an eyebrow. 

Jack forces himself not to rise to this bait. “I didn’t know that’s what I was doin’,” he grits out, in a voice he hopes is at least approaching calm. “I didn’t realize what’d happened until just a while ago, when Sarah told me.”

“You’re saying you accidentally scent bonded to an omega?” Her tone of voice tells Jack exactly what she thinks of this idea. 

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…” Mrs. Lansdon turns back to Davey’s mother. “Esther, far be it from me it insert myself in all of this, but are you sure this is wise? It’s not too late to make an appointment with the heat clinic. I’ll escort you myself if that’s what you’re concerned about…” She trails off mid-sentence, both eyebrows shooting up high on her wrinkled forehead⁠—no doubt in response to the distressed, frantic alpha scent that’s rolling off of Jack in waves.

“No,” Jack chokes out, his whole body clenching up at the thought. “Not if Davey’s asking for me. Not if this is still what he wants.”

“I thought you said it was an accident?”

“It was, but⁠—” Jack pauses, struggling to articulate himself in the face of this unexpected scrutiny, his every instinct urging him to just shoulder his way up the stairs and find Davey. “—But that don’t mean this ain’t important to me, that Davey ain’t important to me. Because he is. He’s everythin’ to me.”

Mrs. Lansdon hits him with a shrewd, evaluating look, then her expression seems to soften ever so slightly.

“I suppose it’s not a crime to be young and foolish,” she concedes. “You aren’t the first alpha to have his instincts gallop off with his heart and you won’t be the last.” She turns back to Mrs. Jacobs and says, “Your boy will be perfectly safe, Esther, don’t you worry. All of the other tenants are betas, and if I see any strange alphas roaming around, chasing after a scent knot-first, I’ll shoot them.” 

She says all of this very mildly, as if simply commenting on the weather. Sarah’s brow furrows and Mrs. Jacobs gives a nervous smile, like neither are sure if this is a joke or not, but Jack is under no such delusions. Mrs. Lansdon is utterly serious.

“Thank you,” Jack says, truly meaning it. 

Mrs. Lansdon looks at him again, and that judgmental exterior thaws out even further. “Well, you just get on up there and take care of your omega,” she says gruffly. “It won’t do to keep him waiting. Let us sort out all the rest of it.”

“I will,” he promises, to Mrs. Lansdon, to Mrs. Jacobs, to Sarah, and to himself. “I’ll take care of him.”

“There’s bread and turkey in the kitchen for sandwiches,” Sarah tells him. “Plus a bag of apples and a good supply of water. We just did laundry, so there are plenty of linens and clean clothes in the wardrobe.”

“Make sure you keep him hydrated,” Mrs. Jacobs says, hefting her purse more securely over her shoulder. “And see if you can get him to eat something. We’re staying just up the road with another family from our synagogue, I left the number for you in case there’s an emergency.”

“Just follow your instincts and you’ll be fine,” Mrs. Lansdon advises. 

“Oh, and Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, just before he goes to head inside, her expression serious. “There’s a package of alpha sheathes on the kitchen table. I expect you to use them.”

Jack feels his face turn red. “Right,” he squeaks out. “Right, of course. Understood, ma’am.”

He hurries inside, rushing up the stairs two and three at a time.

Jack can smell Davey the moment he reaches the floor for his apartment, a hint of sweetness in the air that makes Jack’s mouth water before he even gets the front door open. He finds the sheathes right where Mrs. Jacobs said he would, and though he’s mortified at the thought of her or Davey’s father going out and buying them, he’s also grateful for their foresight. A pregnancy is the last thing either Jack or Davey needs.

The further he walks into the apartment, the stronger that incredible scent becomes. It’s already doing things to him⁠—making his brain cloudy and his heart race, his dick starting to strain against the front of his pants⁠—growing stronger and stronger until all Jack can smell is Davey.

He pauses just outside of Davey’s bedroom, grasping the doorknob in unsteady hands; that spiced-sugar-citrus smell is so heavy in the air that if feels like it’s coating the inside of his mouth. He pushes open the door.

Jack’s eyes go wide, his brain skidding to a screeching halt. The sheathes fall from his suddenly slackened grip, hitting the floor and bouncing away, but that’s not important right now. Nothing’s more important than what’s in front of him.

Davey is draped across his bed, gloriously naked with a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, and the sight and smell of him is like nothing Jack’s ever dreamed. His hair, usually combed neatly across his forehead, is sticking up in every direction and his eyes are glassy with fevered desire. His hips are moving in tight, tiny circles, but he’s rocking into open air⁠—not an active attempt to get off, but like he just can’t help himself⁠—and his chest is heaving, all that bare skin flushed and rosy from his heat. 

He tips his head back, giving Jack an unobstructed view of the long, lovely line of his unmarked throat, then turns to face him. As their eyes meet something in Jack’s chest stills and centers, some baser instinct prowling in the back of his mind whispering, ‘Oh. Oh, that’s mine.’

“Jack,” Davey moans, and the sound of it is like a siren’s call. Jack’s stripped off his shirt and vest before he realizes that he’s moved. “Jack.”

“Jesus Christ, Davey,” Jack growls, fumbling for his fly, stepping out of his pants as he moves closer. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

“Where have you been?” Davey demands, nonsensically, and Jack’s just found out about all this, came almost immediately once he understood what was going on, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s wondering the same thing. Where has he been?

“I’m here, now, sweetheart,” Jack says, climbing onto the bed and settling between Davey’s legs, right where he’s supposed to be. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Jack runs a soothing hand along Davey’s stomach and hips, then spreads his cheeks nice and wide, uncovering the perfect, rosy furl of Davey’s hole. He’s slick with need, all glossy and pink, but nowhere near as stretched as Jack had expected him to be after nearly two days of heat.

“Haven’t you been…?” Jack asks as he runs a finger through the delicious mess of slick glistening around Davey’s entrance, because he can’t imagine Davey getting to this point⁠—all strung out and panting and aching with it⁠—and not doing anything to quell the fire.

But Davey shakes his head. “I tried at first…” he whines, unspeakably frustrated, canting his hips up into Jack’s touch and letting his thighs fall open that much more, beckoning Jack to explore further. “But it wasn’t helping, it wasn’t ever enough, and that was worse than not touching myself at all.”

Jack nips possessively at Davey’s inner thigh, watching the skin there bloom red under his ministrations, then lowers himself down, pressing his nose right to where that intoxicating scent is strongest. He lingers there for a moment, just basking in the heady scent of Davey, and perfect, and mine, mine, mine, then licks him right where he’s wettest, lapping up every last drop of that thick, honey-sweetness. It’s absolutely incredible⁠—the taste of him is better than anything Jack could’ve ever imagined⁠—and he can’t help but groan, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey gasps, and his hands go tight in Jack’s hair, pulling him closer. Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, pressing his tongue deep inside, working him open with every swirl and flick and thrust. Davey is hot, searingly hot under his hands and on his lips, and Jack understands why the Jacobs’ were so worried, because there’s no way this is a regular heat. But the thought slips away as quickly as it arrived because this is everything, this is where Jack belongs⁠—eating Davey out until he’s trembling and desperate for it, just as wet from Jack’s tongue as he is from his slick.

“Jack,” Davey begs, nails digging into Jack’s scalp. “Jackie, please, I need more.”

“You’re not ready yet,” Jack says. He pulls off Davey’s hole just enough so that he can slide two fingers into him, and Davey cries out, a throaty, guttural noise that sends a bolt of want shooting straight to Jack’s dick.

“Jackie⁠—”

“I said, you’re not ready yet,” Jack growls, adding another finger and crooking them up, and Davey moans, back arching up off the bed. “You gotta trust me, sweetheart. You gotta let me help you.”

Davey quivers beneath his hands. “I can’t,” he sobs. “It’s not enough⁠— I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, cielito,” Jack murmurs, working his fingers even deeper. Davey tears at his sheets, scrabbling for some kind of anchor, then one of his hands comes up to wrap around his cock, jacking it hard and fast in his fist. “That’s it, Dave, c’mon. I wanna see you. I wanna watch you come on my fingers.”

“Jack,” Davey mewls, and he’s soaking, dripping all over Jack’s hand, pretty and perfect and so, so close. “Jack, I need… I want… Jack.”

“Give it up for me, David,” Jack commands. He twists his hand, scissors his fingers, finds that little spot inside and presses it hard, over and over again. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

Davey’s voice breaks on a scream, his body locking up and his muscles clamping down around Jack’s fingers like a vice. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure, come striping his belly as he twitches in Jack’s arms, and it’s like something reaches into Jack’s chest and pulls, shifting the landscape of his heart around until Jack can barely breathe around the discovery of Davey, Davey, always Davey that ripples through him in time with his pulse.

“God, Davey, you are fucking gorgeous like this,” Jack says, eyes raking greedily over Davey’s form. “Tan bonito, tan guapo, y es todo para mi.” 

Jack leans over him, biting and kissing at every bit of skin he can get at as he works his way up the long lines of Davey’s body. Davey’s even prettier in this moment just after: that edge of burning desire bordering on pain soothed away, leaving only sweet satisfaction behind… and with a plea for more simmering just underneath. Jack can’t do anything except oblige.

“Jack,” Davey moans when Jack’s lips find one of his nipples, his hands threading through Jack’s hair once again. “Oh my… mnh.”

“Tell me what you need, Davey,” Jack rasps against that fever-hot skin, moving over to give the other nipple the same attention, swirling his tongue around it until it pebbles in his mouth. “Let me give you what you need.”

“You, Jackie,” Davey says, arching up into Jack’s mouth with a breathy sigh, his knees coming up to bracket Jack’s hips. “Just you. Always you.”

“No,” Jack says, pulling away and bracing himself with his hands on either side of Davey’s head, forcing Davey to hold his gaze. “Tell me, David. I need you to tell me.”

Davey looks utterly debauched lying underneath him, mouth open and panting, pupils blown wide and eyelashes fluttering against the rosy flush of his cheekbones, but his voice is steady and serious when he says, “I need you, Jackie. I need you to fuck me, I need your knot. Please, alpha.”

Jack’s whole body shudders at these words, his heartbeat a deafening roar in his ears. “You have me,” he breathes. “I’ll give it to you, you’ll have me, omega.” Then he closes that whisper of space between them and kisses him.

It’s hot and deep and a little frantic. Davey groans, his lips parting eagerly to his own, and then Jack’s licking into his mouth, needing to lay claim to every inch of him. Because Davey is his, that lush mouth and those bright eyes are Jack’s, those soft little keens of pleasure and the spike of sugar sweetness in the air are all for Jack, only for Jack. He takes Davey’s lower lip between his teeth and sucks, swallows down Davey’s answering moan and keeps on kissing him, starving for more of him, and it’s only then that Jack realizes that he’s growling, actually growling into Davey’s mouth, the vibrations rumbling through the both of them from where they’re pressed together. 

Davey looks stunned, just absolutely amazed and overwhelmed, and he reaches up with trembling hands to cup around either side of Jack’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over Jack’s cheekbones. “Jack?” he asks, voice hushed with reverence. 

“I know, Davey,” Jack replies, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as he tries to regain some semblance of control. “I’m right there with you.”

Because he’d understood the explanation, he’d known, distantly, what a scent bond meant, but that’s nothing compared to this⁠—this feeling of perfectly matched pieces finally slotting into place, of home and right and mate. Of yours and mine, and mine, but yours.

Davey squirms in Jack’s hold, his eyes starting to smolder and his scent surging with a fresh wave of arousal, and Jack latches onto it, uses it to ground himself. Davey needs him, that’s what matters. Everything else can wait. 

Jack kisses him again, then leans over to grab a sheath from where he dropped them on the floor, rolling it on with shaky hands. 

“This still what you want?” Jack asks.

“Yes, but⁠,” Davey bites his lip, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I want⁠ to⁠... Can we⁠...?”

Davey flips over onto his stomach, lifts up on his hands and knees, and presents, just like that. Jack inhales sharply, feeling his eyes bleed red. 

He’s only human. And Davey is everything.

Jack’s instincts take over. He kneels behind Davey, curls his hands around his hips and tilts his pelvis up, gets a perfect view of shiny, slick-covered thighs and a dripping wet hole, then lines himself up and pushes in, pressing forward until his hips are seated right against Davey’s ass.

Hot, scorchingly hot, hot enough to burn Jack from the inside out, and devastatingly tight. Jack can’t breathe, can’t think, his spine stiff as he fights against the urge to just take and take and take. Davey makes a noise that’s all startled pleasure, spreads his knees even wider, then tries to fuck himself on Jack’s dick, desperate and clumsy with it. Jack tightens his grip on Davey’s hips⁠—an unspoken command to settle, to let Jack lead⁠—and then takes over, fucking into him in long, powerful strokes.

It’s a rush of sensations. Jack feels completely in control and two seconds from losing it, pulled out to sea by the rip current of Davey, of how Davey feels, a tight silken paradise clenching around him, of how he sounds, the little gasps and grunts that tear out of his throat punctuated by the slap of skin against skin, of how Davey smells, that heady sweetness tempered by Jack’s own scent blending and melding with it.

Jack grinds in deep, pulls out slow, then picks up the pace, driven by some primal need to claim, to wreck Davey like no one ever has before, to possess everything Davey can give him and then give himself right back in return, until they’re so tangled together that they can’t be torn apart. Mine, but yours.

Davey is fucking gorgeous beneath Jack’s hands, head hanging down and his back bowed in beautiful submission, clutching at the sheets as he mewls and sobs. Jack presses a hand to the nape of his neck, then works an arm underneath him and hauls him upright so that they’re pressed together, back to chest, and the change in angle makes them both cry out. 

“Fuck, Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Oh, god, right there.”

It’s so good and yet not enough. Jack can feel his knot starting to swell, catching on Davey’s rim each time he pulls out, and the hot, wet sound of it is driving the possessive, alpha side of him absolutely crazy. He’s distantly aware of mouthing at Davey’s throat, lapping up the salt and sugar there and murmuring a stream of praise against his pulse: some in English, some in Spanish, and some that just comes out as indistinct growls, their meaning lost to a rush of primal instinct. 

Because Davey might be the one in heat but Jack feels like he’s about to shatter right along with him, every thrust of his hips dragging him closer and closer to his breaking point. It’s push and pull, give and take, each brush of skin and wisp of breath shared between them stitching them together: two halves of a whole. That’s what they are now, or maybe that’s what they’ve always been, and now that Jack’s found it, now that he’s figured it out, there’s no chance in hell he’s letting it go. Yours and mine and ours.

Jack’s not going to last much longer, his knot starting to fill out in earnest. From the sounds he’s making, Davey can’t be far behind. Jack presses in hard, then rolls his hips into his next several thrusts, trying to give Davey that last push over the edge. His hand slides down to sit low on Davey’s stomach, as if he could somehow pull him closer, somehow take him deeper, and he works a mark into the space behind Davey’s ear, thrilling in the wrecked little moan that leaves his lips as Jack stakes his claim.

Jack nips and bites his way down Davey’s throat, setting his teeth right against that perfect spot where Davey’s neck meets his shoulder, and Davey lets out a noise of pure want and tilts his head to the side, baring even more of his throat to him.

“Alpha,” Davey begs. “Yes, Jack, please, bite me, Alpha, bite me, pleaseohfuckyes⁠—”

It’s with the last fraying thread of his control that Jack manages not to follow through with this request.

“David,” he grits out, fingers digging into Davey’s hips to the point that he has to be leaving bruises. “Dave, are you sure? You gotta be sure, sweetheart, ‘cause we can’t come back from this.”

“We already can’t come back from this,” Davey says, and it’s true. They’re already changed. “I want this, Jackie, please. Please.”

“Mine,” Jack growls, grinding in one last time as his knot fully pops. “My omega. Mine.” He places one last kiss to Davey’s neck, then bites down, hard, and comes.

Davey locks down around him like a vice, his body jerking and twitching as he rides out his own orgasm, panting through the sharp pleasure-pain of Jack’s teeth breaking skin. It feels like nothing else, this moment of togetherness and completion⁠—like he’s found a piece of himself that he hadn’t realized was missing until it fit itself neatly back into place. 

Davey. Mate. Forever.

When Jack comes back to himself, it’s like floating back into his body after the most incredible dream. There’s the decadent warmth of skin pressed all along his front, the steady thump of Davey’s heartbeat against his chest, the comforting weight of him in Jack’s arms. He shifts them around so they can lay on their sides, careful to keep from jostling Davey too much with the motion, hands settling securely around his waist. He swipes his tongue along the rapidly healing mating mark, then tucks his nose into the space behind Davey’s ear and inhales, something settling smugly in his chest when all he scents is deep satisfaction and a blossom of happiness⁠—no undercurrent of pain or discomfort. 

He feels Davey curl back into him with a quiet, contented noise, limbs heavy with exhaustion and relief. Jack opens his mouth to ask him how he feels, if he needs anything, if he’s okay. What he actually says is, in a raspy whisper right next to Davey’s ear, “I love you.”

Davey shivers. He lifts one of Jack’s hand up and kisses his palm, then weaves their fingers together, their hands clasped right over Davey’s heart. 

He says “I know you do, Jackie. You wouldn’t’ve come if you didn’t.” Another kiss, this one to Jack’s knuckles. “I love you, too.”

“You’re mine now,” Jack says, half amazement, half promise, drawing Davey more tightly against the curve of his body. “All mine.”

Jack feels more than hears Davey’s answering smile. 

“Oh, Jackie, love,” he says tenderly, perfectly relaxed in Jack’s embrace. “I was already yours.”

[nikibogwater]

The Norse Chaos Chronicles: Chapter Four--In which by some Easter miracle, the Incompetent Vikings defeat the Elder

Been a few days since my last update in regards to Team Bogwater’s exploits in the world of Valheim. This is mostly because we actually had a couple of play sessions that were relatively calm.

We actually did manage to expand to the Black Forest across the sea and set up a functioning base there, where we lived in somewhat cramped quarters for a while until we had gathered enough minerals to enter the Bronze Age (and by cramped, I mean all three of us were crammed into what was basically a single king-sized bed because we failed to make the house big enough to accommodate a reasonable amount of space between each of our beds--clearly some home renovations are in order).

I, being a very kind and responsible sister, spent some time on the server by myself making our base more secure with Stake Walls, setting up a sufficient space for storage, and gathering food, all tasks that the others didn’t seem too excited to take care of. I was expecting the boys to notice and at least tell me that my additions were helpful.

I know for a fact that they at least noticed, because when I joined them for this most recent play session, Gustav had decided that what our base needed now was a spike pit around the front gate, which I know wouldn’t have occurred to him if I hadn’t put up the spiky walls. I was never told that my additions were helpful or appreciated, but considering that there were far fewer deaths happening close to our base, I suspect they were nonetheless. 

Niki: ...Is....Do we really need the spike trap? Like, is it necessary? Gustav: How could you even ask something like that?! I have never been more upset in my life.  Niki: It’s just...like, there’s a bridge that goes right over it. Gustav: Yeah. So we can get across it. Niki: Right but so could the Greydwarves. Gustav: Greydwarves aren’t that smart. (20 minutes later) Gustav, trying and failing to shove a Greydwarf into the pit: You guys, I may have overestimated how unintelligent Greydwarves are.

Gustav got exactly one (1) Greydwarf to fall into the pit and die. The only other thing he caught was Tripe. 

Okay, well, he did manage to get a Troll to walk into the spikes, but then it just smashed them all to pieces. It was at this point that Gustav finally accepted the reality of the fact that a spike pit was completely useless to us in this particular area.

Gustav, filling in the pit with rocks: Man, why didn’t one of you guys warn me that the spike trap was a dumb idea? Niki and Tripe: Yeah, that was our bad. 🙄 (10 minutes later) Niki, just peacefully mining copper in the forest: Wait, so where did the Troll go- *gets slammed by the Troll before I can even finish voicing the question* GUSTAV, WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL IT?!

Tripe and Gustav upgraded to Bronze Gear and Troll Hide (I brought mine over from my single player world to save time and resources). I was still trying to gather up enough Bronze to make a Cultivator so we could eat something other than Cooked Meat and Queen’s Jam, when suddenly I was informed that we were getting into a boat (we upgraded from the raft, finally) and going to kill the Elder.

Tripe: Get in losers, we’re going to kill the next boss. Gustav: *jumps in without any hesitation* Niki: Wait what?! That’s a terrible idea! (5 minutes later) Niki, sulking in the front of the boat: Did I mention this is a really bad idea? Gustav and Tripe: It’s fine. How bad can it possibly be?

Horrible. Absolutely horrible. That’s how bad it was. 

We had rather unlucky RNG with our world generation, and the Elder’s altar was a good 1,000 miles away from us. Which meant a significant portion of this play session was actually just sitting in the boat and watching the scenery pass. 

It sounds like a pleasant time, but I was absolutely terrified the whole way there. 

Gustav: ...Oh hey, we discovered the ocean. Niki, who has seen videos of Sea Serpents absolutely wrecking well-equipped players: BACK TO THE SHORE. GO BACK. DO NOT MOVE INTO OPEN WATERS. GUSTAV, FOR THE LOVE, GO BACK TO THE SHORELINE! (Passing a Plains biome) Niki: ...Did you guys know there are one-hit death bugs in the Plains Gustav and Tripe: Will you please calm down

We happened to run across Haldur the merchant shortly before reaching our destination. Since Valheim doesn’t tie your inventory to individual worlds, I went ahead and bought a few things to bring back to my single-player world (namely the fishing gear). I hopped off the server for a minute to transfer the items, and while I was in my world, I grabbed some extra food (the boys are terrible about keeping food in their inventories) and, since I figured we’d need all the help we could get, grabbed a few jugs of mead without really paying attention to what effects they gave.

When I came back into the server, Tripe and Gustav were setting up our temporary base so we could reset our spawn points. Right. Smack. Dab. Next to the altar. As in, when the Elder spawned, he was going to basically be standing directly on top of it. 

Niki: ...You guys that seems like a poorly-conceived plan. Gustav and Tripe: No, it’s fine. Stop worrying. 

At this point, I was pretty resigned to the disaster that was inevitably going to unfold, so I just grabbed some wood and set up my own shack a decent ways away without making any further attempts to convince the other two. 

Gustav: Niki, where are you? We’re all ready. Niki: I just...I’ll be there in a minute, hold on. Tripe: What are you doing? Niki: ...I’m building a house. Gustav: YOU ARE BUILDING YOUR OWN HOUSE WHEN WE HAVE A PERFECTLY GOOD ONE RIGHT HERE?! RUDE! Niki: I DON’T WANNA RESPAWN AND THEN JUST IMMEDIATELY BE SQUISHED AGAIN, ALRIGHT?!

Houses built and weapons readied, we all gathered at the altar. I chucked the Ancient Seeds into the flame and immediately booked it out of the vicinity as fast as my meaty Vikings legs could carry me, frantically downing a jug of mead as I went. The Elder spawned in and within seconds, absolute carnage reigned supreme.

Gustav died within the first two minutes and spent the next ten trying to make it back to his grave. Which he couldn’t really do because his respawn point was right next to the Elder, and emerging from the house naked of all armor and gear was basically an instant death sentence.

Gustav: I’ve died six times trying to get my gear back. We really shouldn’t have built the house this close to the altar. Niki, why didn’t you warn us? Niki, fleeing from the massive thorny vines that the Elder is trying to impale her on: I hate you guys so much right now.

I was hanging back as much as I could, dealing damage with my Finewood Bow, but the Elder has a huge range of attack, and it had me down to single digits in health within less than a minute. And it was at this point that I realized I had majorly screwed up.

The mead that I had been frantically chugging in hopes of gaining better health regen? It was actually slowing my health regen and only increasing my stamina.

Niki: YOU GUYS THE MEAD WAS A MISTAKE. OH MY GOSH, IT’S MINUS FIFTY HEALTH REGEN, NOT PLUS! OH CRAP CRAP CRAP--I’M LITERALLY SLOSHED OVER HERE! Gustav: WAIT, NIKI CAME INTO THIS FIGHT DRUNK?! Niki: I DIDN’T NOTICE THE MINUS SIGN!!!! *yeets the rest of the mead into the ocean before meeting my first demise at the hands of the Elder*

Miraculously, I only died twice during the fight (again, mostly because my respawn point was away from the altar, meaning I had a clearer path back to my graves when I respawned). I have no idea how many times the other two died. Towards the end we were also being bombarded by hoards of Greydwarves, which only made things ten times worse.

Gustav: Have either of you seen my corpse? I mean, I have several lying around here at this point. 

I don’t even know how we managed it, but we did finally take out the Elder and received our Swamp Keys. We all stood around the scene of destruction for a minute, just kind of collecting ourselves. 

Tripe: ...I feel like that could’ve gone better. Gustav: Yeah.  It’s just, Niki goes and does all this research and watches videos and then she doesn’t bother to tell us not to put our house so close to the- Niki: *punches him*

The trip home was blessedly uneventful. Tripe did decide to cut across the ocean instead of following the shoreline in order to save time. I was 90% certain we were all going to be eaten by a Serpent, but we were fine. 

We made it back to our camp only to find a Greydwarf Shaman mucking around in our front yard.

Gustav: What is he--is he barfing on our house...? NO, HE’S SMASHING THE CART! OH YOU SON OF A-- *takes a flying leap out of the boat and tears through the shallows, furiously waving his spear*

The Shaman poisoned Tripe, who had a mild panic attack because his respawn point was still back at the Elder’s Altar, and if he died now he would have to walk all the way back here. 

Tripe, with 1 HP left: NO I’M NOT DYING LIKE THIS! *dives headfirst into the nearest bed*

So yes. That is what I was doing this weekend, in case any of you were wondering where I disappeared to. I am hoping to spend some time working on ToA stuff today, but I again, I think it is important to record these events for posterity...and perhaps as a cautionary tale for others.