#its not even a half of it and it already has like 1400 words

[foxqueen211]

My favourite part of Shadowpeach Fire Within one-shot im writing

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter- Chapter 8

A/N- This week was rough, I procrastinated this a lot. I'm so sorry, it's not the best quality :( I hope you guys like it anyway!! Thank you all so much for the support!!

Word count: 1.4k

Reader pov:

You sat down on your bed, replaying the day's events in your mind. You realized your spine was still rigid and your muscles still taut even hours after returning. You allowed yourself to relax just a little, slipping into bed and under the thin sheets. Exhaustion easing you out of the depressing grip of failure. Finally you closed your eyes.

Beep beep

But not for long enough.

You groaned as you climbed out of bed, feeling all of your joints pop, your fingers were raw from the metal of your gun. The failure of yesterday's mission still plagued you as you unwrapped your bandages to reveal where the knife had cut.

It didn't look too bad, it wasn't infected and had already started to scab over. You swiped an antiseptic wipe over it and slapped a fresh bandage on as you completed the rest of your morning routine.

Breakfast came and went, you took your unofficial assigned seat at the table, but the conversation was different. The group was solemn, it wasn't only you that was still dwelling on the mission. The six of you ate in silence before getting up from the table and heading towards the meeting room one by one.

When the last of you had arrived, Price wasted no time starting the debriefing. You willed yourself to stay awake, fighting the sleep deprived droop of your eyelids as your father explained the mishap.

"A lowly gang-" you yawned.

"Colonel bla bla bla, sent a group of yada yada," You began to tune him out.

"Survivors captured,"

"Should have been an easy in and-"

You felt a sharp pain in your shin, you looked across from you to the source of the kick. You were met with a blank stare from your lieutenant.

"What the fuck?" you mouthed at him.

"Shouldn't be falling asleep during a debriefing, valuable information to be picked up," he tsked.

You rolled your eyes but remained at attention, not wanting to feel the consequences at training later.

The meeting concluded and you left the room alongside Gaz, you were joined by Soap when he entered the hallway. Before you even had a chance to breathe or say a word to your friends, Ghost came up behind you.

"Training room 1400, every minute late is 10 pushups." He walks away before you can respond.

You sigh heavily.

"So how is training with Ghost anyway," Gaz inquires.

"Its- its work," you breathe.

Soap laughs, "He trains you half to death doesn't he?"

You let out a laugh of your own, "Sure feels like it."

"Hey, he just doesn't want to see you hurt, he wants to make you an even better soldier," Soap's demeanor turns suddenly.

You're reminded of the time in line for breakfast less than a week ago. Why is Ghost so weird about you? Why do you care?

"The guy's been through a lot, seen a lot, seen others go through some shit he doesn't want to happen to you," Gaz pipes up.

"But why does he care, why doesn't he show it?" Your getting more and more confused with each word out of their mouths.

"Alright, I know LT better than pretty much anyone, and I know that this man cares deeply about his comrades, but shiiiit- I ain't ever seen this guy act like this," Soap started.

"Act like what?" you said.

"Such a bumbling fool. Normally Ghostie is always down for a good shit talk sesh, mans has ALL the tea, lurking in the shadows has its perks I guess. But about you- well not that I was talking shit but I just wanted to know his opinion and uh- Anyways. He shut me down immediately. I couldn't even ask him his thoughts on you."

"So? he doesn't want to think about me, that's how much he despises me," You countered as you made your way through the corridors.

"Oh no, no, no," said Gaz, remembering something.

"You and Cap went out somewhere, on a run or something, and Soap, Ghost, and I were watching whatever garbage was on the evening channels, and we started talking about you- all good things of course. Butttt- I remember feeling his posture go absolutely rigid at the mention of your name, he went straight to attention, before tellin us to quit yappin," Gaz recalled.

Before you could get a word in, Soap continued, "And if there's one thing to know about Ghost, he keeps his things to himself. If he likes or cares about something, you best bet that it is staying locked down and guarded in his brain. If anyone so much as says anything about a person or thing near and dear to him, their getting shut down immediately."

"Okay, yeah sure, but I don't see how any of this pertains to me, considering how you say he cares about all of his teammates."

"Also, why am I being talked about so much behind my back?" You raise an eyebrow.

"All good things I swear," Gaz chuckles, raising his hands in surrender.

Soap interrupts as you two are laughing. "Because I've never seen him so.. protective"

"I dunno, just the way he reacted yesterday when that man had you on the ground. The way his eyes narrowed and he balled his fists. He completely lost his cool and that's highly unlike him."

You didn't take notice of that, well maybe because you were fighting for your life against a man with a knife to your throat.

"So he thinks I need protection?" You ask.

"I think he wants you to need his protection" Gaz smirked

"What are you implying," you said, fearing the worst.

"Oh you know what we mean," Soap teased.

"Oh cut it out"

"Your blushing," Gaz pointed out.

"Don't think the way you look at him goes unnoticed. Or, the way you stuck by him during the mission," Soap was having a blast teasing you.

"Shut it," you said hiding your smile.

"So you do like him"

"No, not like that. I think he's- interesting, I'd like to get to know him more." You settled for that explanation.

In reality, you'd been thinking of him more than you'd like to admit. Not in a romantic way just yet, but the thought has crossed your mind. It's more of an intrigue, you wondered about him. Wondered about where he called home, who he went home to, if anyone. Maybe once or twice you've entertained the thought of him coming home to you...

Ghost's Pov

I had one hour before I had to train Y/N, so I decided to get a quick lift in, today was a back and chest day. As I grabbed two dumbells to perform the pec-fly exercise I conjured up a plan for Y/N. Today would be a strength training day. She was defenseless against that man yesterday. If she wanted to stand a chance in the field, she would have to get stronger.

In order for her to survive, she would have to get stronger.

In order for her to survive, I would have to train her harder.

A few minutes before our scheduled time, she walks in. Perfect timing, I had just finished my workout.

"Lets start right away," I commanded.

I walked her over to a squat rack, I taught her correct form and put an adequate amount of weight on the bar. She went into the first set of squats, after about three she was already struggling. She finished the first set and stopped to stretch her quivering muscles.

"Too -gasp- heavy -gasp-" she said out of breath.

I rolled my eyes, "You did the first set, you can finish it out."

"Ghost-" she groaned

"Rest's over," was my only response.

She took her place at the rack again, slowly going down and back up. Her thighs trembled, her face scrunched in agony.

"Lower!" I yelled.

Her form went to shit on the next few reps.

"Fix your form."

She barely finished the set, "Ghost, I can't"

"Yes you can, 30 more seconds rest then right back on it!"

The next two hours were the same, Y/N got more exhausted with each exercise, I started to feel sympathetic as I watched her limp to the locker room.

But then the image of her being easily thrown about by that soldier flashed in my mind. I knew I would push her even harder tomorrow.

[slut4daviii]

character: r.sukuna

pt: 01/02

cw: grinding | degradation | humiliation | orgasm control | slight comedy | slightly ooc sukuna | hopefully funny internal dialogue

summary: “everyone’s gay until proven straight” -Albert Einstein 1994

a/n: the quote above is satire, please do not take it seriously. also, minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT [s.name] = sister name, you don’t have a sister? then your really missing out.

title: one down, one to go

wc: 1400+

────────────────────────

────────────────────────

The Itadori's estate was something that existed beyond the imagination. A large residential reserve of land tucked comfortably away in a three-way forest covered reservoir. The north, south, and east sides were completely surrounded by towering trees, rocketing higher than the eye could see.

The south side was the only actual entrance to the large building, a winding driveway that spun beautifully around a dove shaped fountain situated in the middle of a crystalline indigo-green pond.

It was passed down the family line, never losing its luster. It was usually used for casual parties: gowns and suits, champagne popping, fancy displays of money, marriage, and even the birth of heirs.

And today was no different, a party was held, yet, in contrast to the past, this was not a political party. No bow-ties or high hats.

───

music blared loudly, some teens drinking, some making out, some… conceiving other actions, and yet, some still lay passed out, enamored to the oddly comforting ground.

however, the highlight of this party came from the upstairs infinite pool. inside sat teenagers tispy and intrigued. yet, around it lay half empty bottles of all types: hennesy, schnapps, bourbon, vodka, cognac, and a magnificent magnitude of other alcohols.

a simple game of truth or dare. “a simple ‘do or don’t’ game between underage drunk teenagers” you’d say, knowing damn well it was anything but.

due to the interference of Maki Zenin, four distinct rules were cultivated to make the game much more enticing.

in her words, “the game is really simple, however, the rules make it much more complex.”

RULE ONE: the order in which everyone sits is immutable, so if you want to change your seats, I advise you do it now.

nobody thought to move, leaving the oder of participants as so: Sukuna, You, [s.name], Megumi, Nobara, Toge, Pan (Panda), Yuuji, and finally, Maki.

RULE TWO: there is a limit on how many dares and truths, if two people choose dare, then the person after them has to choose truth. and vise versa for two truths.

RULE THREE: anyone can dare anyone, nothing is off the table. however, if you pass up the dare you have to take a shot, and if you pass up a truth, you have to take two shots.

RULE FOUR: if a dare involves you, you cannot declare if you want to pass it up or not, that’s the choice of the person being dared. but, if they do decide to pass it up, then the both of you have to take three shots.

now looking back on it, you scoffed at yourself for not thinking to switch your seat. you should’ve known your sister was going to… fuck you over.

but, you can’t go back in time, and everyone had already agreed, nodding happily.

“Alright let's play.”

the game started off simple, small dares and obvious truths. the group couldn’t be sure of what to make of each other’s boundaries. but, like everything else in the world, they were pushed to their limits.

you had answered two questions and done one dare: down a whole bottle of vodka in thirty seconds. you failed. but, now, a new round had started and Yuuji was the forerunner.

“Yuuji.” [s.name] called, her voice trailing over the water like a fresh coat of paint. “truth or dare?”

the boy in question cut his eyes to her, a tension setting between them. you knew [s.name] was forming some sort of plan, but you couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

after some hesitation— mainly Yuuji objecting the question and grumbling to himself about [s.name] owning him something— he answered, meekly. “truth.”

Nobara shot up at the inclination, taking it as an invitation to mess with her boyfriend, “is it true you lost your virginity to Megumi?”

quiet reigned over the group, even you, the quiet and stoic hothead, were rendered speechless.

Yuuji on the other hand however was sputtering, his voice coming out jumbled and without full attention. “I— n— Nobara! you—you’re dating M—Megumi! how would I’ve lost my vir—virginity to him?!”

“that’s not an answer, Yuuji-kun.” she responded, lapping at the blush slowly creeping upon the pink-haired blunders face.

“n—no!”

everyone laughed, watching as Yuuji tried to shake the blush crossing his features. his entire neck was a shade of light pink.

you couldn’t care less, ‘why would you want to loose your virginity to another guy?’ now of course you kept these thoughts to yourself, not wanting to upset anyone but you just didn’t understand why or even how two guys do the do.

despite these thoughts, you still found yourself wondering how it would feel— no. you don’t care, you told yourself.

tuning back into reality, you saw Maki blushing, pointing at Toge, who was looking stoic all the same. “Just answer the question.” he edged her.

“n—no! I hate [s.name]!”

it finally clicked, Maki had a crush on your sister. you inwardly grimaced at this, not wanting to even think how two girls… ‘I mean who does the actual fucking?’ you asked yourself

“anyways, Sukuna’s turn!” [s.name] yelled, her voice laced with a malignant grin.

you looked at Sukuna, your eyes traveling over his body before locking on his thighs. ‘if I were to fuck a guy, it’d definitely be— wait, what the hell am I saying? this is Sukuna. he wouldn’t want to do it.’

it took a few seconds, but soon your words registered within your own head ‘AND NEITHER WOULD I!’

but, now that you were thinking about it, Sukuna alway seemed to be staring at you. I mean, not like a normal stare but the type of stare that you give to someone you wanna fuck. and whenever you two are together for longer than five minutes, he starts getting nervous and blushing like a horny schoolgirl.

“alright Sukuna! that’s two truths, now you’ve got to choose a dare.” [s.name] screeched. you winced slightly, rubbing you ear to rid it of your sister’s annoyance. “does anyone have a dare for Sukuna?” not even a second later, [s.name] continued, “good.” you deadpanned.

“now, Sukuna, I dare you to— your sister looked directly at you, her expression matching that of a black cat, mysterious and low— “sit in [name]’s lap. and not just sit, you have to straddle him.”

Sukuna turned a bright shade of pink, his body stiffening against the cold tiles of the pool. you looked at your sister through narrow eyes, she knew you weren’t gay. she knew you didn’t like guys but still pulled this.

“I’ll just drink—“

“that’s not your choice. it’s [name]’s”

you looked down, avoiding not only Sukuna’s but also your sister and everyone else’s gazes. you didn’t want to have him on your lap but… you also didn’t wanna take three shots.

‘fuckfuckfuckfuck.’ you were stuck, not knowing if you should weird out your best friend by telling him to sit on your dick or tell him to just drink three shots like it was nothing.

Sukuna touched your bicep, but pulled his hand back when he felt your muscles contract. “uhm— you—we can just drink. it—it’s f—fine, really [name].”

this was the first time you’d heard Sukuna stutter, was it because of the situation or just because he wanted to sit in your lap?

“[n—name]?” you shook your head and brought your hands to Sukuna’s waist. as much as you didn’t want another guy straddling your dick, there was something in you that want to know why Sukuna was stuttering all of a sudden. and if it was because of you, then how would it change things?

Sukuna slid through the water, his skin glistening against the brightly-lit moon behind his house. you pulled him onto you, slightly rubbing against the tip of your semi-hard cock. why were you hard?! was it Sukuna?! NO. no, no, no, it was because you hadn’t masturbated in over a week. yeah, yeah that’s what it was. and— and Sukuna had a really nice ass— wait! no! that came out wrong.

Sukuna had placed his legs on the sides of your thighs, steadying the both of you. ‘calm down. calm down. it’s alright, it’s your fault that you hadn’t touched yourself and Sukuna really did have a nice ass, better than some of the girls you’d dated in the past.

He wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling himself closer to you, further rubbing his ass against your cock. by this point, there was no way he hadn’t noticed your half—full—boner. but, he didn’t react, he was really quiet actually. just a small blush going across his face.

you shifted, moving yourself so that your back could support the newfound weight. this time Sukuna reacted. quite vulgarly. a moan escaped him, the sound violently sending your body into a violent malfunction.

‘fuck. that was hot. scorching even.’ you felt your cock harden even more, the tip poking at Sukuna’s clothed backside. he squandered against you before meeting your eyeline.

you almost came on the spot.

his face was flushed beyond recognition. tears pooling in the corners of his cornea, panting softly; his tongue hung slightly out his mouth, and his pupils—in your vision— had hearts in them.

he was also hard. harder than you—if possible—

his tip was pressing against your abdomen, making him squeal and squirm every time you did as much as breathe. you gulped, shifting your lower body to left to see his reaction.

he fell against your chest, suppressing his moan with his fist— oh, what you wouldn’t give to hear it— some of your friends looked at the two of you with questioning looks, but after a shrug from you, they resumed the game.

you leaned to Sukuna’s ear, his breathing labored and ragged with pleasure. you didn’t know what you were doing, you just knew it felt good, almost like lust had completely taken you over.

“you’re such a slut.” you pulled, watching as his shaking multiplied by the dozen, and he began softly thrusting his hips against you. “oh? do you like it when I tell you how everyone sees you? like a shameless slut?” suddenly, a surge of confidence rushed through you. your thoughts were plagued with the same repetition: ‘I’m doing this. I’m the one making the bold and outrageous Sukuna feel like putty.’ truthfully, you didn’t know if this was the truth or just your ego.

speaking of him, he was panting harder, his hips scrambling against you. he was chasing an orgasm you didn’t intend to let him have. placing your hands on his waist, you stopped his movements, “do you really want everyone to see how desperate you are? see how easy it is to make you cum? Sukuna let out a quiet sob, his eyes rolling back at the taunt, or was it the idea of actually getting caught? something that you quickly voiced to him: “or is it that you wanna get caught? want everyone to see me fuck you senseless? hm, I’d expect nothing less outta a slut like you.”

“m—m’not a s—slut!” he barked back, barely above his panting. you cocked you head to the side and smirked at him

“then why are you so close to cumming without anyone touching you?” you cut your eyes around the pool, quickly catching the eyes of Sukuna’s younger twin, Yuuji Itadori and your thoughts instantly ran away from you ‘if he’s anything like his brother, he’d be a good fuck.’ you shook your head at this ‘naw, he’s definitely an innocent one, would let you do anything you wanted.’

“m’not gon’ c—cum!” Sukuna combatted, trying to bring your attention back to him.

the prolonged eye contact with Yuuji hadn’t ended yet, he was still starting at you with half-lidded eyes, clarifying his intentions with you. ‘another time. another time to take his innocence and make him as sinful as those eyes he making at me.’

you turned your attention away with a wink, bringing your free hand to Sukuna’s swin trunks. “oh you’re not? then— you gently grabbed his tip through the fabric, twitching your muscles to jerk her up and down a few times— what’s this?” you finished

Sukuna bucked into your hand, trying so hard to cum. “not here.” you brought your hand back to your side and locked eyes with the Itadori. “do you want them to see? huh S’kuna?”

like the confidence coursing through you, the nickname also came out of nowhere, shocking the both of you.

“d—d’care! I don’t c—care! just fuck me!”

you were tempted, definitely tempted, but you had something Sukuna didn’t. dignity. “not right now, S’kuna. now be a good boy and cum for me.”

the sudden raspy nature to your voice made Sukuna moan, harshly thrusting his hips against you. and within seconds he came, the white ropes being trapped in by his swimwear. “ngh! nngk! [name]!”

the moans fell on deaf ears as you looked back past him and to his twin, maintaining another long session of eye contact. he was immobilized by your gaze, not able to do anything until you broke it to look at your sister.

“your turn [name]! truth or dare!”

you looked back at Yuuji one last time, cascading your tongue along your lips.

“dare, of course.”

[myelocin]

of stars & skies | bokuto k.

Synopsis: Things sort of fall out of plan.

Genre: smut, fluff | WC: 1400+

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou

A/N: this is a commissioned piece by @hvnlydmn​

i love you more - son of cloud

commissions

If someone were to ask Bokuto Koutarou to summarize the things he feels about you, at best he’d answer with just a grin.

A grin, for now, because in the moment his thoughts are anything but coherent. He can faintly recall that it’s only sometime between four or five in the morning, and the both of you really should be asleep but that’s far from the case.

Still, it’s the feel of your fingers clawing at his thighs that make him grin. Head thrown back, groan hoarse and throat scratched, he parts his legs further apart.

It’s a nice sight, he thinks. 5ams and the dim light just barely starting to peek through from the blinds. Your hair, messy and sticking out in more places in one beneath him and the marks on his thighs in the exact shape of your fingernails painted red and angry. Bokuto knows by now that he really should be saying something before he busts a fucking nut right then and there, but you do the thing and swallow—again, and his head blanks.

You smirk; your jaw’s been aching for a while now, the skin on your knees not doing any better. When you inhale, you’re a little more careful than usual, trying to regain control.

Bokuto just arrived home from a game overseas a little over two hours ago, and you had planned for him to catch up on sleep before doing anything else—truly, but five steps through the door his tongue was shoved down your throat and his hands were behind you unclasping your bra and plans went to shit.

He groans again, hands tightening around your hair as he pushes his cock in deeper, profanities spilling from his lips. Beneath your fingers his thigh trembles, and when his grip relaxes, you take it as an opportunity to ease off of his cock, eyes locked on him.

He leans back, one elbow bent to support his weight as the other runs over the deep flush of his face at the sight of you. Bokuto had always been thick, and he’s always been more than aware of that, so it just does something to him to see you taking him whole despite looking so perfectly wrecked.

His cock twitches on your hand, and you smirk.

“Fucker,” he groans, eyes never leaving your form as you poke your tongue out and lean forward, swiping at the slick that’s gathered at the tip of his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” you hear him moan, the vibration of his voice doing its job in sending a shiver that shot through your body and right to your core.

And even though sex with Bokuto plays out like it’s some kind of routine, it’s little moments that differ from yesterday and today that makes things worth it. Much like him, you can never really get enough. The weight of his cock on your tongue is familiar, but the way his jaw tenses just a little different in today than last week’s makes your heart leap. Half lidded eyes that glimmer different every single time show you all the shades of the moon when it hangs like gold in the sky stare at you like you are the world itself, and even though your slick’s dripping down your thighs, all the feelings of love still beats in your chest.

Bokuto peers at you, words caught in his throat before he count think to say them, moans half groaned out, your name repeated like a prayer in pants.

He feels you swallow around his cock and he stills. By now he already knows that all it would probably take for him to cum was a couple more licks to his slit, and he should be focusing on that, but the dawn chooses the exact same moment to break through the sky.

Then it’s soft orange and pale yellow, filtered through the blinds. Spilling on the floor, climbing up the walls, and illuminating your eyes that stare at him.

You recognize the look too, and the timing of your lover’s sentimentality should be comedic if anything, but when his shoulders soften and you feel him pull you up and away from him, seating you on his lap, your brain blanks.

Love, like a wordless exchange in the mornings, because even if the dawn has broken through the black of the sky, you choose to let the silence linger just for a little while longer. Bokuto holds you by the waist, lifting you up and over his cock before he eases himself in with a low groan. Eyes locked towards you, from your end you see the colors of the stars while he’s awestruck, gazing at the sky.

He’s panting, and you’re shaking—a newfound presence that’s always blended itself in the atmosphere of the room even when you’re fucking enveloping the two of you like a warm blanket on a cold day.

“I love you,” he says, the truth in his words finally breaking past its earlier barriers.

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you,” Bokuto whispers, the tone of his voice half a moan and a confession, bottom lip in between his teeth as he thrusts up, and pulls your waist down to meet him halfway simultaneously.

And you feel it.

The kind of love that’s always found you ever since you met him.  

Because love—the kind that’s raw and real and present, flows better through feelings instead of words. Though when he thinks of it, he had never been exactly the type to have been much for words, so he supposes the sentiment remains.

He likes to think that love—his sort of love—has a habit of being uncovered in the mornings. Mornings like 5ams right before the dawn breaks and the world stirs. The frost from last night’s chilly air still on the windowpanes and the sun just barely waking. A world that thrives in progress and motion, the days starting with the intention to be lived before it ends. The forgiving kind of sun during sunrise, because it feels more warm than scathing on his skin.

Bokuto likes to memorize everything about you under a light like this.

He knows he’ll see all the shades of blue when you open your eyes, but for now it’s the hue of the skin on your eyelids and blush of your cheeks that he sees. Bokuto chokes out another confession that reaches you, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of your waist, his breaths labored and roughed, perfectly matching yours.  

Another inbetween makes itself known, coming as the thought that mornings have always been your sort of thing. It’s always been funny how little epiphanies of just how in love he is with you choose to unravel in moments like these, but it fits.

The sound of your voice—his name on your lips, moaned, and huffed out in short breaths fits. If you lean forward and press your chest against his, which he knows you only do when you’re getting close and wanting to bury your face somewhere—fits.

(Like a puzzle piece that clicks in place, it fits.)

Love fits, and nestles in the cracks and corners of his life, and he’s only felt fulfillment since.

You feel his hips stutter, his grip tightening even more before he slams you to him once, twice, as he buries himself to the hilt and cums.

Bokuto feels you shaking, in a way he knows is good against him, so he laughs. And he’s quiet with his words as he sounds out the vowels of your name. Hands, gentle in the way it holds you—cradles you to him, because love is like that too.

As much as it bursts and makes him feel like he’s racing through a highway, blind and breathless, and euphoric—it’s also just holding you close to him at daybreak. You allow the silence to resettle, your hands reaching forward to cup his face as you open your eyes and look at the colors of the stars again, and Bokuto’s smiling.

(You are too.)

He sniffles, as do you.

Love hangs like the vines of a plant that resurfaces into the earth again and again despite the rough hands that time never ceases to bring.

“Hey,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against his, the smell of home and him a familiar one to you.

(I love you.)

And he knows you mean to say that, so he closes your eyes and leans in to your touch, because he’s safe, and here, and home.

(The way his thumbs rub circles on the skin of your waist tells you that he means to say I love you too.)

[kuroopaisen]

10:31 pm || miya osamu

➵ osamu won’t stop making his damn onigiri. 

wc: 1400

warnings: gn!reader, the slightest bit suggestive  

a/n: @starrysamu i’ll be honest, it’s a while since i’ve written something and been happy with it. but i wanted to give you something on your birthday to say thank you for being so lovely to me :( (i know i’m technically late but shhh...) you’ve been so kind to me, and i can’t thank you enough for all the light you’ve brought into my life (both intentionally and inadvertently). and i know i’m not the only one -- you’ve brought life and laughter to so many people’s lives, and i just want you to know how loved and appreciated you are. this was originally planned as a fluffvember piece dedicated to you but Stuff Happened and it never got written and try as i might, this was the most i could drag together in celebration for remy day. i’m so sorry i couldn’t do more, but regardless i hope you had the best day possible :( i adore you

“Osamu,” you huff, butting his arm with your head.

He ignores you.

“Osamu,” you whine, a little louder this time.

He continues to ignore you, moulding a rice ball with both hands.

You duck down and pop back up between his arms.

Osamu bites back a smile this time, but once again – he ignores you.

You know he’s doing it on purpose. He’s not like his brother; he doesn’t get so lost in what he’s doing that he completely loses track of his surroundings. No, he’s doing this to wind you up. Because you’ve made it too obvious that you want his attention.

Although, you don’t usually have to fight for it.

He’s not the kind of guy to spend a lot of his free time ‘doing’ things. Time at home is time to relax. If he wants to play around with recipes, then he’ll just stay an extra hour at work. If he needs to work off some steam, he’ll go to the gym. Time at home is time to relax – or, more aptly put, time to annoy you.

But sometimes, Osamu’ll be consumed by a relentless urge to create. All he wants to do is make new combinations of ingredients, stuffing his onigiri full of stuff that you wouldn’t possibly think would go together. But Osamu seems to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing; even the strangest sounding combinations end up being surprisingly satisfying.

You’re not about to complain about this quirk of his. You’re his trusty taste-tester, the lab rat for all his new creations. That’s quite the honour – one of the benefits of being part of Osamu’s life. The whole ‘having a professional chef prepare you dinner every night’ is also pretty good.

(You joked, once, that the only reason you kept him around was because he was just so damn good at cooking.

He’d been so genuinely pouty about it that for a moment it felt like you were talking to his brother).

But tonight, that stroke of creativity had hit at nine in the evening. And honestly, you can only eat so much rice.

He’s been at it for the past hour or so, throwing together this and that while a gentle Spotify playlist provides ambient noise. It’s the sort of music you’d listen to in an attempt to wind down – something that’s certainly not doing much for your fatigue.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. He’s warm, like he always is. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep as soundly as you do with him next to you. He’s too much of a fixture in your life now. Too much of a comfort.

Osamu chuckles, his thumbs smoothing languid circles over your waist. “It’s only ten at night.”

“I know,” you whine, lifting your head up to look at him.

Frankly, he should be glad you’re tired this early. Kita’s always chided you for your erratic sleep schedule, and Osamu’s been given a talk or two about how he should be looking after you better.

“Osamu,” you huff, pouring all your menace into that one word.

It’s not very effective.

“Hm?” He sounds amused more than anything.

“Please come to bed.”

A familiar grin crosses his face. “Want me that bad, huh?”

You butt his chest with enough force to knock him backwards. “Shut up.”

He’s not wrong, but it’s certainly not what’s on your mind right now. And he knows that.

“Ah, so you’re not denying it,” he grins. Stupid relentless Osamu.

You punch him in the stomach with what might just be the world’s weakest fist.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Osamu chuckles, shaking his head.

You pout up at him, doing your best to look as pitiful as possible.

“You can’t fool me,” he grins.

It’s true. Osamu knows you well; some would say too well. But that’s what you get, being romantically involved for so long. And while he may know you well enough to save himself the burden of feeling guilty in the face of your faux misery, you also have a carefully catalogued library of every lame and embarrassing thing he’s ever said.

It’s a fair enough trade.

One song ends and another begins.

It’s similar in style to the one before – a soft tune, an indistinct voice crooning over the music, a soothing yet bittersweet tone underlying the tune.

Osamu stills, a strange tenderness melting over his face. He slips one arm around your waist, making sure that his hand stays away from your shirt. It’s still covered in the gelatinous residue of the rice.

“Didn’t this play at your sister’s wedding?” He asks softly.

You nod. He remembers that? Hell, it’d taken you a moment to rifle through your (admittedly hazy) memories of that event to try and recall if this song had even been on the playlist.

Osamu reaches for one of your hands, lacing his sticky fingers with yours. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can his other hand slips round to hold your waist.

“But my shirt,” you whine, well-aware that you’re going to have to change it before going to bed. Unless you wanted gritty bits of dried rice to work its way onto your sheets, of course.

“Just borrow one of mine,” Osamu mumbles, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

Your lips are free, but it feels like he’s sealed them shut.

Osamu isn’t a man of many words. But he is a man of gentle touches, quiet moments, little affections you might miss if you’re not watching closely enough.

He pulls you towards him, taking a step away from the kitchen countertop. You almost stumble as you let him lead you in the sway of the music. He’s a bit off beat, but he’s never been very good at keeping to one. You remember having to learn ballroom dancing in P.E.; for all his innate talent at volleyball, Osamu has none for dancing.

If he cares about that, he makes no indication. He just holds you close to him, fingers digging into your waist gently as he moves. You lean into him, resting your cheek against his chest.

The song ambles on, an offbeat soundtrack to this tiny tenderness.

You pull your head back and look up to him.

He’s smiling.

It’s not his usual smile, that lazy, sardonic half-smirk. It’s gentle, fond, loving. It’s a smile you don’t get to see often – and one you certainly don’t get to see in public. But it’s another tiny sign that he loves you; a sign that he trusts you with all his vulnerability, even if he can’t put it into words.

He leans in and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear.

“What about the mess?” You ask, turning to look at the kitchen as if he hadn’t just made your heart race.

There’s rice everywhere, wrapped in seaweed and in bowls and in flecks all over the counter. You’re sure you’ve never seen this much rice before in your whole entire life – and you’ve cooked for Osamu’s high school volleyball team before.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” Osamu says, totally unbothered.

“But ants,” you pout, eyes anxiously scanning the wide variety of perishables strewn over the kitchen. Something’s going to go off by the morning. And that isn’t even accounting for the hoard of uneaten onigiri stacked up in a Tupperware container.

“It’ll be fine,” Osamu shrugs, tugging you out of the kitchen.

“No, it won’t!”

“We haven’t had ants yet.”

“You still shouldn’t leave food out overnight—”

Osamu chuckles, sealing your lips with a kiss. It’s not just any kiss, either; he kisses you exactly how you like to be kissed, in the way that always makes you tick. Unfortunately, it’s an effective way of shutting you up.

Stupid Osamu and his underhanded tricks. He knows just what makes you tick, just how to get under your skin.

But being known is a part of being loved. It means having every little thing about you tucked neatly in someone else’s memory, regardless of if you want it to be or not. Words barely matter. In most cases, they don’t.

It’s a fact you just have to come to terms with.

Osamu already has.

[magdaclaire]

to forgive is not to forget and sometimes you cannot do either

read on ao3

Oh no, oh no. There’s only like five ways that this conversation is going to go, and if someone raises a fucking pinky finger to his Tony, Rhodey is going to lose it. He’s going to completely lose it. 

When the good Captain starts raising his voice, Rhodey starts rising out of his seat, completely out of his control. He’s sat down again, however, by the fact that Tony grabs his wrist, pulling him back down to the Earth in more ways than one. Instead of letting him fly off the handle, Tony laces their fingers calmly, keeping both himself and Rhodey hemmed in off of the edges of anger and disparity as to not lose their collective minds in the middle of this mixed company. Instead of losing it, Rhodey zones out for a minute, checking his recently painted nails (peach, because Riri had picked it out and decided it looked great for their skin tone) and looking occasionally at his phone. 

That is, until Steve Rogers stands his happy ass up. 

“Captain,” Rhodey interrupts, crisp and clear and still polite despite the beginning of his sentence interrupting the middle of the Captain’s. Rogers looks at him with raised brows, though he gives the natural submission of an officer so clearly outranked; Colonel James Rhodes had at least earned his colonelcy, come to think. 

“Yes, Colonel?” Rogers asks, looking at Tony and Rhodey’s linked hands before moving back to the Colonel’s face. Rhodey will remember that. 

“You no longer preside over the Avengers Initiative in any fashion. Captain Danvers is the new Captain of the Avengers, and I have the military authority liaison position. What actions you perceive as right and wrong, whether this is an official meeting or not, are no longer relevant. Keep them to yourself,” Rhodey instructs, level toned and frustrated, to which Rogers’s face screws into an expression of displeasure. Rhodey holds his gaze. 

“I’m not the leader anymore so I don’t get to have an opinion?” Rogers asks, high and offended, but Rhodey doesn’t roll his eyes, which he thinks someone should be proud of. Tony squeezes his hand, but still Rhodey continues. 

“Was anyone allowed an opinion during your tenure as leader?” Rhodey asks rhetorically. Tony’s hand slips out of his, grabbing onto his arm with more tenacity, more strength. Rhodey ignores it. “I don’t think it much matters what you think anyway. Your probationary period has not reached its end, and thus your vote isn’t one that needs to be taken into consideration. Your presence in these meetings is a privilege and can be revoked, should I or Captain Danvers choose to revoke it. Don’t tempt me, Captain Rogers.” 

“Well, then why don’t you revoke it, Colonel? You seem to be damn well tempted enough,” Rogers shoots back, temper tested as he rises completely to his feet, Barnes looking alarmed and yet cowed next to him. By Rhodey’s guess, he doesn’t want to be here at all. His attention is pulled away by Tony’s hand on his arm once again. 

“I think we need a moment’s recess, if we could have it. I think it would be good for everyone. Captain Danvers?” Tony suggests, looking desperately between Carol and his usual corralling partner, Agent Sharon Carter. They both nod, though Captain Danvers is the one to reply aloud. 

“I was about to suggest the same thing. How about we take twenty minutes, agents? Come back at 1400, and come back without the chips on shoulders, if you don’t mind?” Carol clips with her eyebrow raised, not a suggestion at all. Rogers purses his lips but gives her a tight nod, taking the south exit with his half of the team in tow. Tony, who has always reminded him of a Chihuahua when he’s upset with him, is nearly vibrating when he drags Rhodey into an empty office, shoving Rhodey into a chair. Rhodey crosses his arms and waits for the fire to start, because if he gets the first word in, this is not going to go well. 

“What the fuck was that, Rhodes?” Tony asks, 

“Rogers is a bag of fucking microaggressions in a freedom suit and I’m not gonna deal with it - he disrespects you and argues with you whenever you open your mouth and puts you down and undercuts your arguments, and it’s counterproductive!” Rhodey argues, the steam nearly coming out of his ears, and he isn’t angry at Tony, he shouldn’t be expressing it at Tony, but Tony won’t let him throw shit at Steve Rogers for some reason, so this is what he’s got. Tony crosses his arms and leans against the wall opposite him. 

“I can deal with Steve Rogers. What I can’t deal with is my best friend ruining the groundwork that I’ve put down for pardoning and forgiving Steve Rogers and his merry band so that we can get them back into the fold. That’s what I can’t deal with,” Tony says, but there’s one thing that Rhodey has to stick on, because what.

“He doesn’t deserve your fucking forgiveness, Tony!” he insists, uncrossing his arms to scrub his hands across his skull. Maybe he’s overprotective of Tony, and maybe that comes from a couple of decades of being in love with him and not doing a fucking thing about it, but maybe that’s no one’s goddamn business either. That doesn’t mean Steve Rogers deserves to be forgiven for lying to him and trying to kill him either. Like Tony hasn’t been lied to for his entire life. Like most of the people Tony has trusted his entire life haven’t betrayed him. But he looks up and Tony looks stricken and he’s getting closer and Rhodey isn’t expecting - Tony sputters. 

“But you forgave me!” 

Silence settles. Rhodey racks his mind for whatever the fuck Tony means, tries to do whatever mental math that Tony’s guilt complex has conjured, but he can’t come up with whatever Tony thinks he did. Whatever he thinks Rhodey forgave him for. So he asks. 

“Forgave you for what, Tones?” Tony crumbles. 

“I didn’t catch you. The suit didn’t catch you. Nothing I did, everything I did failed, I should have been able to - platypus I failed you. And you acted like it was nothing. You just came right back to me and acted like we were fine, and you’re still my best friend and you still love me and everything is fine and you’re not gonna leave me,” he rambles, falling to his knees between Rhodey’s own, and Rhodey just wants to hold him. So he does. He gathers Tony into the well of his chest and holds him against himself and just lets him cry for a minute because that’s what he needs. 

“Tony, none of that was your fault. It’s not your fault. I’m never gonna leave. We’ve been together for decades, Tony Stark. I’m yours, and you’re mine, in every way that matters. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing to forgive,” he promises, stroking Tony’s hair. Tony’s sobs subside eventually, and the tears dry too. 

Carol doesn’t come get them. 

“I think we might be doing this wrong, you know,” Tony says eventually, when they’ve been sitting like this way too long for his knees to still be in good condition. Rhodey hums a questioning hum. “I’ve been halfway in love with you since I was fifteen years old.” 

Rhodey chokes on clean air, and then he’s coughing, and Tony has to get off of his chest, killing their intimacy. But, Rhodey has the idea that they’re just getting started on that side of things. 

“I was twenty-two. Coming home from my first tour. When I figured it out about you. Too scared of DADT to do anything I guess, or maybe that was a good excuse, was too scared of you not wanting me back too. But I knew I loved you. Always knew,” he says, not quite looking at Tony, because even though Tony’s already said it, he has near thirty year old fear in the back of his mind making his teeth ache. Tony catches him by the jaw. 

“I love you,” Tony says, a confession and a benediction and a completion. Rhodey breathes, and his chest feels clear. 

“I love you too,” and it feels like forgiveness. 

[crimson-snowfall]

Like You Better Like This

Theo Route Announcement Celebratory Fic

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Theo x Arthur (Theocona)

Genre: NSFW ModernAU (Detective!Theo x Vigilante!Arthur)

Warnings: BL, gunplay, blowjob. Please note that this fic focuses on a suitor x suitor pairing, and this is your friendly reminder that warnings exist for a reason and that you are responsible for the content you choose to consume.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts in wait for Theo’s route announcement for quite some time now, and I haven’t written BL smut for like 2 or 3 years now and this is my first attempt on a modern AU... so yeah, I hope it just turned out okay at least?

The investigation department broke out in mayhem as reports of the sabotage of two privately-owned armored trucks came in-- this would make it the third incident within a span of a month. Theo kicked under his desk, burying his face into his palms as he mentally cursed the perpetrator that he unfortunately knew all too well, but couldn't do anything about.

That's why he'd chosen not to get involved in these cases, and as a result, since most of his colleagues were more interested and invested in the recent sabotage cases, Theo had been working overtime for weeks now on the regular cases that no one else was interested in.

"That klootzak is so dead to me," the detective grumbled under his breath as he sorted through the pile of cases stacked on his desk, the thought of the long work weeks ahead of him already wearing him out.

It was already past midnight when Theo trudged into his apartment unit-- which, under normal circumstances, he should be the lone occupant of, but the television noises coming from the living room made it evident that he wasn't alone that night. Considering the recent turn of events and the fact that his beloved brother would never be so rude as to enter his unit uninvited, Theo didn't hesitate in throwing his briefcase over the couch he just knew this uninvited guest was lounging at, and hearing the ensuing yelp of pain made him wish he had another suitcase he could hurl at the man who'd peeked at him from couch.

"Long day at work?" Arthur asked whilst soothing the side of his head where Theo's briefcase had hit him.

"You're really asking me?" Theo's sharp retort cut through the living room, but as always, it didn't have the intended effect on the other man.

Arthur approached Theo with a mischievous grin, and although the latter had been scowling so hard at the former that his brows were practically touching, he made no effort to stop the other man from taking off his coat.

"I brought some pudding. It's on the fridge," Arthur casually revealed as he made his way to hang Theo's coat on the coat rack. The detective obviously didn't appreciate the change of topic, but he was starving at the same time. He opened the fridge and saw that one compartment was filled with what may be a couple of week's worth of his favorite pudding and other desserts.

"I've told you countless times that I can buy these on my own," Theo grumbled as he dug in on a blueberry pudding.

"You're welcome, my dear Theo. I see that you like your compensation as always?" The comment earned Arthur a cold, hard glare from Theo, one that he met with his own unwavering convictions.

Their history goes all the way back to their high school days, and ever since then, they have been inseparable as they even ended up pursuing the same career. Somewhere along the way though, Arthur had become severely disillusioned with the 'flawed, inefficient  justice system that actually bred more social inequality,' and after years of failed attempts to convict those who had cheated society but had the wealth to evade punishment for their crimes, Arthur finally quit the job.

Nowadays, he masquerades as a forensic biologist while he's actually involved with the top brass of one of the largest vigilante groups that target those who had risen into wealth and power through illegal means.

"You were the one who behind this operation, weren't you?" Theo firmly inquired, cup of pudding neglected on his hands as his glare bore holes into Arthur. 

"What gives?" Arthur asked in amusement as he snatched the half-eaten pudding away from the grumpy detective.

"That man was on the last case you were on before you left, and I know you've had your sights set on him since then. Also, that's my pudding," Theo tried to retrieve his dessert, but the ex-detective had other plans. Taking in a spoonful of the pudding, Arthur swiftly closed the distance between them, capturing Theo's lips with his own, parting them with his tongue and feeding him the pudding in his mouth.

"What are you talking about, Theo? I've never had my eyes set on anyone else but you," Arthur's eyes shimmered with need and longing; their conflicting situations had put a strain on their pre-existing relationship to the extent that they could only meet like this every once in a while.

"Quit it, Arthur. You know what I'm talking about."

Arthur snorted derisively. "Then are you mad at me?"

"All I know is that you're better than this."

"So do I, Theo. That's why it's a wonder how you could put up with that sorry excuse for a--"

"Like I said, it's not up to you or anyone to do these kinds of things!" Theo roared in aggravation, leaving Arthur speechless for a moment. After a while, he quipped back with a cocky smile,

"...You say that, my dear Theo, but then, isn't it up to people like you to capture and turn in people like me who take matters into their hands?"

"Seriously, why are you-"

"I wonder why, oh dear detective," Arthur's hands began to wander all over Theo, finding their way to undo his tie, "...if you hate what I'm doing so much, then why don't you--"

And just as when Arthur was about to bind Theo's wrists with his tie, Theo had pinned him down on the couch and rammed the barrel of his pistol into his mouth.

"Shut up," Theo sternly warned, his own eyes burning with a pent-up medley of desire and frustration. He's been feeling conflicted enough as it is, and the last thing he needed was Arthur rubbing it on his face that the reason why he's feeling as such is that because they're madly in love with each other.

The novel look of shock on Arthur's expression only lasted for several seconds, though Theo had already committed it to his memory. He didn't exactly dislike the perverted, masochistic glint in those eyes that were only a few hues brighter than his own. Rather, he actually found it an alluring sight to behold, watching it spiral from eagerness to desperation as the night goes deeper.

With one hand keeping the pistol's barrel in Arthur's mouth, Theo proceeded to grind their clothed erections against each other.

"Keep your mouth shut, and I'll show you exactly the answer you're looking for," Theo's voice rasped as he built-up the pleasure between them, and Arthur purred in approval.

Slowly, the buttons on Arthur's shirt came undone in the wake of Theo's feverish exploration, and the former bit down on the barrel in his mouth as the latter flicked his hardened nipples.

"What a manwhore," Theo taunted him as he hastily freed his own erection, retrieving and tossing the pistol aside in favor of shoving his cock inside the other man's mouth.

They held each other's heated gazes as they partook in their debauched, mutual pleasure. Theo held no reservations as he vigorously rammed his cock into that familiar warmth of Arthur's mouth, and as he always does, Arthur skillfully massaged his tongue over the bulging veins of Theo's thick, hard length.

"Yes, that's right, you damned klootzak," Theo hissed as he firmly gripped on Arthur's hair, "I like you the best when you can't run this filthy mouth of yours because it's filled with my cock, did you know that?"

In response, Arthur swallowed the entire length of Theo's cock-- or at least, he had made the attempt to do so given that it was physically impossible due to its impressive size. He didn't really have to wait that long either before his mouth was overflowing with Theo's rich, warm essence as he felt the fierce throbbing of the cock in his mouth, and Arthur made sure not to waste not even a single drop as he licked every inch of it clean on its way out of his mouth.

"What now, Theo? There's nothing keeping me from running my mouth now," Arthur taunted with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then I'll just have to make sure to keep you occupied until I can kick you out in the morning, right?"

True to his words, Theo had kept Arthur thoroughly occupied all night long until dawn.

I don’t know who wants to hear this but I always feed Ikevamp KR Theo with the blueberry pudding because he always seems to like it. So yea fun fact KR Theo likes blueberry pudding.

[minmotl]

Chapter 59: Sui Zhou Forbids Tang Fan From Hiding More Money

Context: 洛水古棺案 The Luo Shui Ancient Coffin Case - This happens after Tang Fan’s promotion and is his first major case after he successfully deals with people who don’t like him at his new job. The case happens at a riverside city called Bei Song (Northern Song). To the North of the city it faces Luo Shui (Luo River), and further up they will see the Yellow River. The town is built near the tomb of the Song Emperor, and while the town and tomb have to frequently deal with tomb raiders, everything is still pretty manageable and peaceful.

Recently, however, things have taken a turn for the stranger, and the courts have put Sui Zhou and Tang Fan on the case.

Before they embark on their next case together, however, some things have to first be ironed out, for example, the royalties from writing that Tang Fan gets but secretly hides from Sui Zhou.

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Since a year ago, every day when it hits midnight, the civilians living nearby would hear some strange noises coming from Yong Hou Tomb and Yong Shao Tomb. At first, they thought it was the sound of the wind, but listening to it closely, they realised that those were crying sounds.

Yong Hou Tomb is where Song Ying Emperor Zhao Shu rests, and Yong Shao where Zong Ren Emperor Zhao Zhen rests.

Zhao Shu was Zhao Zhen’s successor, but he was not Zhao Zhen’s biological son, because all of Zhao Zhen’s sons died then, which left him with no choice but to take on Zhao Shu, who was from the royal family, as a charge.

These are not important, however. The question is, in the middle of the night, why would there be crying sounds from the royal tombs?

It has been so many years since the emperors from Song dynasty passed away and there are no longer any filial children or virtuous grandchildren. And even if there were, who would choose to cry for these lost souls in the middle of the night?

This is really strange.

The civilians in nearby villages have the responsibility of guarding and watching the tombs, and so after hearing the cries for a few consecutive nights, a few villagers went ahead to Yong Hou Tomb to investigate.

In the end, the people who went, never came back again.

It was only then that the village chief realised something was amiss - he urged other villagers to head forth to locate the missing people on one hand, and on the other, reported this to the Gong County Magistrate Court. Officials sent some men over and also searched thoroughly, but did not manage to find the people who disappeared. The royal tombs are built right next to the Luo River, and officials guessed that these people could have accidentally fallen into the river when they returned in the night.

With this conclusion, the case was wrapped up as well.

After that for a long time, the cries were never heard again. The village seemed to have its peace restored. Aside from those villagers who lost their loved ones, everyone slowly forgot about this incident.

But just half a year ago, those chilling wails emerged again and were louder than before, seemingly accompanied by the roar of thunder. The village chief did not dare to be careless about this and anxiously reported this to the courts again. The Gong County Magistrate thought that the village chief was making a fuss over something small, coming off the previous incident, and so did not think much of this. However, because the royal tombs are located there, he still got some of his officers to bring some men to the village and investigate.

This time, they found three tomb raiding holes near both the tombs of Yong Hou and Yong Shao. It seemed that tomb raiders had their eyes on these two emperors’ resting places, and came for a visit. Regarding the royal tomb being stolen from, the magistrate did not dare to be careless either. And so, he ordered the officers and also six of the strongest and younger men from the village to stake out the royal tombs nearby, hoping to catch the tomb raiders.

Everything was quiet in the surroundings of the royal tombs as the first day passed. The moonlight was like water, and next to them, aside from the sound of the Luo River water flowing, nothing else was heard. Everything was peaceful. The same happened on the second day.

And on the third day, crisis struck.

Three officers, six villagers and the village chief, when they went, they were 10 people in total.

At the end, only two returned.

One of them was an officer, and the other was the village chief.

The first went mad, and the second turned dumb.

The one who went mad was the officer. The village chief and he ran back from nearby the royal tombs, one after the other, and he was incoherent. Whoever he saw, he would try to hit, not to mention saying anything while being in a clear state of mind. The village chief’s expression was filled with horror, and his body drenched in fresh blood. His state of mind was almost that of the officer’s.

After the prognosis of the physician, he concluded that the officer has probably been frightened to the point of insanity. He would probably like this for the rest of his life as there is no cure for it. Although the village chief is old and of dwindling strength, he did experience more things in life and instead, was more resilient than the young officer. After a period of rest, his mental state slowly improved.

However, whenever the happenings of that night were mentioned, the village chief could not be more silent and reluctant to say anything more. It was not until the magistrate himself came over to question him that the man began repeatedly chanting ‘it’s a ghost’ and ‘there’s a monster’ - words related to that. No matter how much they asked, they could not get anything substantive out of him.

The magistrate was out of ideas but also felt that this situation was strange, and so had no choice but to get the investigation reported to higher authorities until it reached Jing city.

“Ghost? Monster?”

In their small courtyard, Tang Fan considers both words and asks, “Could it be the tomb raiders pretending to be ghosts?”

Sui Zhou shakes his head, “I’ve also only just gotten this case. It’s very difficult to ascertain the accuracy of the magistrate’s report just by his words, we will have to head down there personally to make judgement. This happened in the jurisdiction of Henan, and I suspect it will be handed to the Department of Justice for an investigation, and then after that, it’ll also land on the head of the Henan’s Qing Li Si.

Tang Fan laughs bitterly, “That seems like a definite possibility.”

He stretches lazily, “Might as well. Anyway, I naturally have fidgety bones and cannot bear to be so leisurely. I’ve gotten tired of sitting in the courts, and if given the chance, I’d rather go out for a walk!”

Sui Zhou says in a low voice, “I also plan to go personally.”

Tang Fan is flattered, “It cannot be, Sui zhenfushi would like to fight by my side? This is truly this lowly official’s honour!”

Although Sui Zhou is officially only a qianhu, he has become the boss of the Northern Administrative Court in reality. Any higher up than him would be Yuan Bin, so between officials, everyone is already used to calling him “Sui zhenfushi”.

Of course, hearing Tang Fan call him that, the title sounds a little more like (light teasing) mockery than anything else.

Sui Zhou leans into the chair, and taking the cup of buckwheat tea from Ah Dong, he says lightly, “Fighting side by side, maybe not so much. Since I am the zhenfushi, I naturally have to handle all matters. For a small Rank Five official like you, you’ll have to listen to my commands then too.”

Of course, these words are coloured with mirth, as he says it like a joke.

Tang Fan laughs, “Then I’ll have to fight for that with you. You’re a Rank Five army official, and I’m a Rank Five civil official. Since the Ming dynasty came into being, it is always civil officials commanding army officials. If we follow the principle of a Rank Five civil official being allowed to command a Rank Four army official, even if your big boss Yuan came, I’m afraid he would still have to listen to my orders. Otherwise, for someone who as physically unfit as me, what will I do if I go? I can’t possibly head up personally to catch the criminals myself, right?”

He winks at Ah Dong, “Isn’t that right, sister?”

Ah Dong nods, “Yes.”

Tang Fan puts up his leg and proudly says to Sui Zhou, “It’s really good to have a sister, see how considerate my Ah Dong is!”

Ah Dong goes, “I’m saying that Sui-dage is right.”

Tang Fan is dissatisfied, “Why do you always favour the outsider?!”

“Of course I have to side with the outsider. Da-ge, all your money is now in Sui-dage’s hands. Without him, we’d both be homeless!!” she laughs.

Tang Fan retorts, “What do you mean by all?! I only gave him half, don’t I still give you grocery cash every month?!”

Sui Zhou then asks, “So tell us how much money you have on hand right now?”

With both of them staring at him with their four eyes, Tang Fan stammers, “A man’s savings is a secret, you can’t just ask like that!”

Ah Dong then asks Sui Zhou, “Sui-dage, how much money do you have?”

Sui Zhou doesn’t say that she cannot ask, and very honestly says, “I helped him to save 30 taels last year, and then together with the 350 taels he gave me previously, that’s 380 taels. I also have some savings from before, and together it totals up to 1400 taels.”

Ah Dong gaps, “Sui-dage you’re so rich!”

Tang Fan huffs twice in awkward laughter, “The weather is really great today! That dumpling dish has been left alone for too long and it’s waiting for us to eat then. How low class is it to speak about money, our mouths full of the stench of copper!”

Ah Dong covers her mouth as she laughs, “You hid your writing royalties under your pillows and did not submit it. And here I was wondering how long you’d hide it for, but in a flash, you went to buy another stack of useless novels!”

Tang Fan, embarrassed, says, “What do you mean useless books! That is Spring and Autumn, a Song dynasty publication that people can’t buy even if they have money. I only got it after looking out for the book of so long!”

Ah Dong blinks, “Well, there’s another one called The Legend of Chun Chao.”

Sui Zhou frowns, “Why does that name sound a little strange?”

“That’s a proper book on demons, don’t think so much!” he says, guilty.

If he didn’t say anything, that would still be okay, but the more he explains, the stranger it sounds.

“Give it to me so I can have a look later,” Sui Zhou says.

Ah Dong sticks out her tongue at Tang Fan, “I want to see it too!”

Tang-daren feels immense pain, “You took the manuscript for Aspirations of War previously and you haven’t returned it to me yet!”

Although Tang-daren does spend his free time writing fiction books as a way to pass the time and also to get some writing royalties as well, to say that all he writes is erotica fiction, this is truly an injustice to him. Take Aspirations of War for example, he reflected the history of the years of war during the Eastern Zhou period, but because the content is complex, he often does not have time to write it. Only now does he have two-thirds of it finished.

Innocently, Sui Zhou says, “I’m not done reading it yet, I’ll return it to you when I’m done.”

“And when will you finish it?”

“When you promise not to secretly hide your royalties,” Sui Zhou answers.

Tang-daren is so angry right now that he feels like he is capable of doing anything, as he expresses his objections and dissatisfaction at these unfair standards.

“Well you didn’t give me the money either!”

“But I don’t have a habit of spending money unnecessarily,” Sui Zhou’s explanation ends the argument.

“…”

His pride slides to the ground and shatters.

He’s rising up in the ranks as an official, but when he comes home, his status gets increasingly lower! Let him live!

He wants to run away from home…

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Tang-daren’s face is filled with tears.

===

Notes:

*胳膊往外拐 ge bo wang wai guai

Literally means using your elbow to reach out and hook onto someone else - As a metaphor it means to side with outsiders instead of your closest friends or family.

*满嘴铜臭味 man zui tong chou wei

Literally means for one’s mouth to smell like the rotten stench of copper - as a metaphor it means that it is not good practice or manners to speak about money the way they are talking to each other.

*春潮记 chun chao ji

Sui Zhou is so scandalized when Ah Dong mentions this book - The Legend of Chun Chao, and that’s because when you break the characters down: Spring (chun), tide (chao) and legend/records (ji)

chun also can mean youth or a time of canoodling of sorts

chao can also have a sexual connotation, i.e. to climax

And that’s why he is like “that sounds strange” when Ah Dong reads the title out, and this book is in fact an old story about demons, but the more Tang Fan denies it, the more guilty he sounds basically.

[queenofmoons67]

If you're still taking in prompts, I saw this and immediately thought of Nie bros:"The Rough Character Holding The Injured Soft Character Gently And Breaking Down Over Them"\

number one way to trick me into writing almost 1400 words is, apparently, to ask for NMJ caring for NHS. i hope you like it!

Nie Mingjue crouched low on his saber, eyes squinting against the wind as it whipped past him. The sound of the wind covered everything else, from the calls of the Nie cultivators slowly falling behind his breakneck pace, to any screams that might be echoing on the horizon.

But no matter how painful keeping his eyes open became, he kept them open. He couldn’t crash. Couldn’t lose any more time. And, perhaps most importantly—if the Wens had set fire to the Unclean Realm, as they had to Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses, the sight of smoke on the horizon would be his first clue.

As Nie Mingjue got close enough to see his home peaking over the treetops, though, the churning in his gut that had pushed him so far became more frantic.

They had received word early that morning that a small force of Wens had been spotted heading toward the Unclean Realm. Unsure what their purpose was, but positive that this was Wen Ruohan’s response to Nie Mingjue killing Wen Xu, Nie Mingjue had gathered his fastest cultivators and set out immediately.

After Nie Mingjue had killed Wen Xu, the Wens had retreated far enough that the Unclean Realm was guarded only by Nie Huaisang and a thin force of cultivators. There wasn’t supposed to be any Wens between the Nie frontline and the Unclean Realm. But then there had been the missive. And yet...

Squinting even more against the harsh wind, Nie Mingjue struggled to make out more details. Everything seemed fine. There were no hints of burning, or invasion, or—

Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrowed on a small figure taking off from the courtyard and bolting in his direction.

It only took a minute more for them to meet, and Nie Mingjue, knowing they were both moving too fast for him to reach out and grab the man, instead snapped a loud, “Follow me!”

The figure staggered in midair, but did as he said. Nie Mingjue glanced at him, and cursed silently when he realized it was the fastest cultivator he had left with Nie Huaisang.

The instant they landed, Nie Mingjue whirled on the man.

“What—”

“Please follow me, Zongzhu!” the cultivator cried, already moving towards the entrance. “Nie-er-gongzi has been attacked!”

Nie Mingjue stumbled, but quickly recovered and ran after the cultivator. A-Sang had been attacked. Not the Unclean Realm, but A-Sang, and Nie Mingjue hated how much that made sense, and he hated that he hadn’t seen it coming, and that he hadn’t seen fit to fortify his brother’s personal guard more than he already had.

An eye for an eye was exactly the kind of punishment that Wen Ruohan would find suitable. With Nie Mingjue lacking a son, of course the man had targeted his little brother instead. Nie Mingjue had been blind in his certainty that the Unclean Realm couldn’t be breached, and now it might cost him the only family he had left.

Ahead of Nie Mingjue, the cultivator skidded to a stop at the door to A-Sang’s rooms. Nie Mingjue didn’t bother doing the same: He threw the door wide open and barged in, mouth already open and ready to demand to know what was happening, only for him to halt at the sight of the room.

The first thing that caught his eye was the blood. It had splattered all over the walls and floor, mixing its bright red with the paints that A-Sang had had out. There were more than a few fans and paintings that Nie Mingjue already knew would have to be thrown out; there was no saving them.

The second thing Nie Mingjue noticed was the ring of doctors surrounding a body lying, unconscious, on the floor. It was cloaked in Nie robes and still clutching a fan, despite the arrows in his side and shoulder. Nie Mingjue’s mind shuddered as he took in the sight, but he didn’t allow himself to cry. He couldn’t, not when there was so much to do.

Nie Mingjue pushed his way through the doctors and squatted by his brother’s head. He palmed his cheek once—reassuring A-Sang that da-ge was there. Reassuring himself that A-Sang, no matter how pale his face was or how blood-matted his hair was, was still alive and fighting.

And then Nie Mingjue stood, and he walked away. He didn’t let himself look back.

The doctors would do their job. It was time Nie Mingjue did his.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue spent the next several hours directing his people to and fro. A half-dozen cultivators were stationed in A-Sang’s rooms, and a half-dozen more were stationed at its doors and windows. The Unclean Realm as a whole had to be swept from to bottom, to ensure the assassins hadn’t decided to hide instead of running, even while Nie Mingjue sent cultivators out to search the surrounding area in the case that the assassins had run instead of hiding. He told the kitchens to make the most hearty meals an injured person could stomach, dictated messages to the other sects and his own frontline, and then sent those messages out.

And then, just when Nie Mingjue started to flag enough that thoughts of A-Sang began to sink in again, the doctors filed into his office and told him that A-Sang had been moved to his bed. He would live.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue reached A-Sang’s rooms as fast as he could. Entering, he reminded himself that he would have to have servants come in and clean soon; it wouldn’t do for A-Sang to find his living space covered in blood. His brother was in the bedroom, though, which hadn’t been affected. The other room could stay for now.

Nie Mingjue nodded to the cultivators guarding his brother, but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. They filed out of the bedroom, and when he closed the door behind them, he and his brother were left alone and Nie Mingjue could finally allow himself to feel.

He padded over to the bed, noted the bandages around A-Sang’s torso, and decided that the head was probably the best place for him to sit. He just sat on the edge at first, looking down at his brother—and then he brought his legs up, crossed them, and gently eased his brother’s head onto his lap.

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue murmured, bending over him. “A-Sang, I’m here. Da-ge’s here.”

There was no response. A-Sang’s eyes were closed, his cheeks still pale, though his features had relaxed and Nie Mingjue assumed the doctors gave him medicine for the pain. But his brother didn’t wake. His fingers didn’t even twitch.

“I’m sorry, A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue whispered, breathing through the knot in his throat and the cold settling in his head and stomach. “I never should have left you alone.”

Nie Mingjue cupped his little brother’s cheek and smoothed his thumb over it. With his other hand, he gathered A-Sang’s hair, absently noting that someone had tried to wash the blood out. They had done a decent job, but A-Sang’s hair was even more knotted now.

Slowly, Nie Mingjue sectioned his brother’s hair and started combing it, easing his fingers through the strands.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue stirred at the sound of moaning. He had apparently slumped forward at some point, falling asleep right where he sat while he combed A-Sang’s hair.

“Da-ge,” a familiar voice whimpered, and Nie Mingjue jolted, blinking rapidly to focus on the sight below him. A-Sang’s eyes were filing with tears, already red and crinkled, but they were open.

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue gasped. He rubbed his thumb against his brother’s cheek, wiping away a tear, and then twisted and yelled, “Fetch a doctor! Nie Huaisang is awake!”

There was a clatter from the other room, but Nie Mingjue paid it no mind and turned back to his brother. He squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Never again,” he said. “I’m doubling your guard. Permanently.”

A-Sang giggled, but then moaned in pain and clutched at his side. Wincing, Nie Mingjue reached out and took his hand in his own.

“Don’t laugh right now,” he said. “You had several arrows in you; you’ll be sore for awhile.”

And A-Sang smiled, though his face was still twisted in pain, and whispered, “Yes, Da-ge.”

Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters!

[dnarez]

Chapter 14 - Sports Festival Part 4

"ALL RIGHT, HAVE YOU ALL FORMED YOUR LITTLE TEAMS!!? WELL, YOU BETTER HAVE!!" Mic was screaming like always "LET'S DO IT!! LET'S STAR THE COUNTDOWN TO THIS VICIOUS CLASH!!"

"We can do it guys! I need all of you to trust me when it comes to escaping, try to focus each one on each side" Y/n toke a deep breath and closed her eyes felling each person and their position, she adjusted the headband to her eyes. "I can do this"

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

(On the other side of the city)

Hawks was on his agency doing paper work bored out of his mind when one of his sidekicks came running.

"Hawks sir! Look at this!" the sidekick turned on the T.V. that was on Hawks's office and changed the channel to the Sports festival "There is some interesting people here, including Endeavor's son and those from class 1-A that had survived the League attack, there may be some interesting people for you sir"

Hawks nodded and smiled "thank you it had totally escaped my mind that today was the day for the Sport Festival" the sidekick smiled back, bowed and got out of his office.

The moment he closed the door Hawks slammed his head on the table, he actually had forgotten about today, he should be there helping his little sis, he took a deep breath thinking how to apologize, that was when he looked at the screen and almost fell from his chair, he saw his little sis being chased by all the other teams.

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

"We've got an assault approaching from the gate. ...and first we have two teams to contend with. This is the fate of the hunted... make your choice Y/n!" Tokoyami and Dark Shadow were looking  at her the best they could without lowing their guard.

"Let's put Midoriya's plan in action!" but before they could do anything they started sinking on the floor.

"We're sinking! It must be that kid's quirk!" the three of them were sinking.

"MIDORIYA, URARAKA AND TOKOYAMI! HOLD ON TIGHT!" Y/n took off her jacket with the gadget showing that she was with only a top under it (like Momo), she opened her wings that were orange with the tip neon orange, and with only one flap of wings she flew up out of harms way, she let one feather for each one of them helping them to keep up with her flying.

"THAT BITCH CAN FLY?!" Bakugo was pissed at that.

"Y/N LEARNED HOW TO FLY??!!" Kirishima was stunned by that

"YOU KNOW THAT BITCH SHITTY-HAIR?!"

Someone shouted "JIROU!"

Jirou tried to reach them but Y/n noticed it before"Dark Shadow! From behind and down!" Dark Shadow blocked it.

"Good work Dark Shadow, always watch over our blind spot."

"Aye aye!"

"You two are awesome! Keep up the good work!" Y/n even if she couldn't see she was still feeling everything around her.

"Holy crap man! Y/n how did you see that???"

She giggled "I didn't" she turned to him, and he saw that she was with the headband on top of her eyes, he looked at her like she was crazy.

"You and Tokoyami both are just the defensive bulwark we were lacking... too cool, bro!! Yours quirks are more than enough to defend us from all directions, at that!! I can't praise you enough, Tokoyami, Y/n!!"

"You all picked me and planned it out." Y/n's wings got slightly pink from the compliment

"We need to land!" Uraraka shouted.

Y/n complied, landing she put her feathers back in place when they stepped on the ground. "How are you all doing?"

"With the help of your feathers and Uraraka helping us float it was easy! We just need to keep it up!" Midoriya was pumped up now

"I'm glad!" Y/n's wings were now full yellow and the tip was golden.

"HAVE A LOOK, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES HAVE ELAPSED AND ALREADY WE HAVE A MELEE OF TUMULTUOUS PROPORTIONS ON OUR HANDS! ANYWHERE YOU REST YOUR EYES. THERE'RE TWO TEAMS VYING FOR AND STEALING EACH OTHER'S HEADBANDS!! AFTER ALL. IT'S A FINE STRATEGY TO AIM FOR 2ND TO 4TH PLACE HEADBANDS INSTEAD OF THE BIG 10,000,000!!"

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

(With Hawk's again)

"FUCKING CAMERAMEN!!! FOCUS ON MY LIL' SIS!!!!!!! FUCK IT I'M GOING THERE!" Hawks went out of his office and to the reception "I'm going to U.A." he adjusted his gear, got outside and started to flew in U.A's direction.

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

"Hahahahaha! "Stealing each other's headbands?" you think this is some kinda headband exchange...? No, I assure you this'll be... A ONE-SIDED PLUNDERING!!"

"Shouji!? But why are you alone?? This is a cavalry battle, remember!?" Izuku screamed.

"DON'T BE FOOLED MIDORIYA! THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE HIDING INSIDE THERE!!" Y/n shouted.

Midoriya nodded "LET'S PUT SOME DISTANCE BETWEEN US! IN A FIELD WITH MULTIPLE ENEMIES, IT'S NEVER A GOOD IDEA TO REMAIN IDLE ANYWAY!"

"My foot is stuck on the ground! It's one of Mineta's thingies!! Where did he chuck it from..." Uraraka was slightly in panic.

"From here Midoriya~..." Mineta said from his hiding place

"WAAAAAH Y/N-CHAN WAS RIGHT!!!" Midoriya saw Asui's tongue coming out of their cocoon "Caution Y/-!"

Before he could finish Y/n had already evaded her tongue and slightly cut it with one of her feathers.

"I WILL CUT YOUR TONGUE OFF NEXT TIME!" Y/n had a dark aura around her "I. HATE. FROGS!"

"TEAM MINETA HAS MADE A GOOD USE OF THE STARTLING DIFFERENCE IN ITS MEMBERS' BODY TYPES! THEY MIGHT AS WELL BE A WAR TANK! TEAM TAKAMI CAN'T HELP BUT FLY AWAY"

Y/n used her feathers to release Uraraka's foot from the sticky ball and flew away extremely fast.

"Wow! Thank you, Y/n-chan you sure are awesome!" Uraraka shouted as they were on the sky.

But from nowhere Bakugo appeared from behind flying on their direction taking all them by surprise.

"RIDING REAL HIGH AND MIGHTY, AIN'TCHA, YA LIL BITCH CHICKEN!" But when he was a few centimeters from snatching her headband his face was meet with a foot.

Y/n had kicked him with all her strength "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" her wings now were full red and full of rage "YOU WON'T STEAL MY CHANCE OF BECOMING A HERO!" he got pissed and tried to explode her but Dark Shadow protected her sending Bakugo flying back who was caught by Sero's tape, taking that as advantage Y/n got back on the floor with them.

"WHAT DO WE SEE HEEEEEREEEEEE!???" THE RIDE CAN DETACH FROM THE HORSE!? THAT'S ALLOWED!!?"

"It's only a technical, so it's okay!! The rider's just not allowed to plant his feet on the ground!" Midnight gave a thumbs up.

"THAT'S RIGHT, WHETHER IT'S THE GIRL IN FIRST PLACE WHO'S BEING CHASED OR THE REST OF CLASS A. NOW DOING THE CHASING, THIS HERE'S A VERITABLE CONGREGATION OF THE TOP DOGS! LET'S BRIEFLY CONFIRM THAT BY CHECKING THEIR CURRENT POINT VALUES... SEVEN MINUTES HAVE PASSED, SO LET'S PUT THEIR SCORES UP ON THE BIG BOARD FOR ALL TO SEE!"

Team Takami was on 1st, Todoroki on 5st and Bakugo on 7st, mostly the class B was with the points.

".... WHOA, DAMN!!? WAIT JUST ONE GOSH DARN SECOND...! YOU MEAN CLASS A AREN'T TAKING BY A MILE... WELL, APART FROM TAKAMI OF COURSE. AND HOLEY MOLEY, BAKUGO WHAT HAPPENED...!?"

'Class B are smart but... no, now is not the time to think about others... we can't forget that we are on a battle ground where anything can happen' Y/n was focused on every little feeling that was around her.

"Guys evasion should be pretty easy from now on-" before Midoriya could finish Y/n interrupted him "DON'T LET YOUR GUARD DOWN GUYS, WE HAVE GUESTS!"

"NOW THERE IS LESS THAN HALF A MINUTE ON THE CLOCK!!" Mic screamed

Team Todoroki appeared a few meters away from them. "The time has come. I'm taking it" Todoroki said looking at the headband that was on top of Y/n's eyes.

She smiled sweetly at him "Hello again Half n Half boy"

"I though that I would have the chance to get back on Midoriya for the last time... but it's just you..." Todoroki stared at Midoriya.

"Sorry but this time I can't help you this time... This is not only my victory but my friend's victory! So come on and try your all Todoroki Shoto!" she pulled her headband down to her forehead revealing her shinny e/c eyes as she smiled at him "Please be my friend if I win! But... if you win... I still will want to be your friend Todoroki-kun!" Y/n opened her wings that were almost full golden n yellow, they weren't full yet just for the bit of pink on the tips.

"I AM NOT HERE TO MAKE FRIENDS!" Todoroki shouted at Y/n getting pissed at her for those foolish words.

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

Hawks now was helping the police with some villains that had attacked some civilians and a supermarket, he was trying to be fast enough, so he could go see his sister in action but the world wasn't allowing him to do so.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

________________________________________________________________________________

SURPRISE!

Yoh! So... I was dead set on this being an shotoXreader, I even put the tag and everything, but after a few comments maybe it will actually be a katsukiXreader? I don't know... You all can change my mind until next Friday(not this one since I just posted this earlier)

Some of you may have noticed that I am actually accompanying the manga, so... yeah... lov u see u next time<3

THIS FRIDAY WON'T HAVE UPDATES

1400 words

[dweetwise]

day 6: myths

prompt from: cocktober pairing: felix x ace notes: the merman au nobody asked for warnings: suggestive language, drowning mention, teeth mention word count: 1400

Ace is walking back to his hotel in the small hours of the morning, stumbling a little bit from having had one too many drinks over the course of the night. His pockets feel much emptier than before he hit the casino, but he tries not to let it bother him too much; surely, his luck will turn back around for this evening.

The sun is already starting to rise but the beach remains empty, the sun worshippers either safely tucked in their hotel beds or out partying in the nightlife that never seems to quiet down.

A glimmer in the corner of his eye catches Ace's attention, and he sees a man emerging from the stillness of the ocean.

The sun peeking over the horizon casts a golden glow to the man's smooth skin, and Ace watches, enraptured, as he runs a hand through his equally golden hair to smooth the wet locks out of his face.

And holy shit, what a face that is.

Ace engages in a split-second internal fight in what he thinks is his rational side trying once again to curb his impulsiveness.

Fuck it, he's going for a swim.

He approaches the man who doesn't seem to notice him, opting instead to observe the sunrise.

“Out for a morning swim, huh?” Ace asks when he's within earshot, the man flinching in surprise and turning around to face him.

God, that jawline is to die for, and his body—

“Mind if I join you?” he adds, quickly snapping his eyes back to the man’s face.

The handsome stranger regards him silently, and Ace tries not to fidget under the scrutiny.

“Be my guest,” the man says, and holy shit, even his voice is perfect, like silk caressing Ace's ears.

For some reason, despite the liquid courage still buzzing through his veins, Ace feels nervous when he starts removing his clothes. So he resorts to what he does best; run his mouth until something sticks.

“How's the water today?” he asks while shrugging out of his shirt, pretending like he swims even somewhat regularly.

“It's pleasant,” the man hums. “Not too warm, even on the surface.”

Ace thinks that's kind of a weird way to describe the temperature, not knowing anyone who would consider ocean water too warm under any circumstances. But he shoves the thought back, not wanting to be rude.

“Not sure you picked the right place to vacation, if oppressing heat isn’t your thing,” he jokes as he slides his pants down, idly wondering why anyone would visit the sunny beach destination if not to enjoy the climate.

“My family lives here,” the man says, and Ace didn’t expect an explanation but he’s happy the hottie seems content to go along with his small talk nonetheless.

“Ah, the age old answer to why we obediently keep doing shit we hate,” Ace jokes, and it might be too far, maybe the man is one of the few lucky souls who actually has a good relationship with his relatives.

Fortunately he doesn’t seem phased, giving a small one-shoulder shrug and letting Ace focus back on undressing himself.

And then he immediately runs into a problem; his boxers. On one hand, he's far from self-conscious and would rather go skinny dipping than soak the clothing and make the walk back to his hotel uncomfortable. But on the other, he doesn't want to freak out his companion, even though he thinks his intentions are pretty obvious at this point.

He leaves the garment on and takes the first step into the ocean.

And promptly hisses from the sting of cold shooting up his foot. Damn, “not warm” was an understatement!

If it wasn't for the gorgeous man watching him with a challenging little smirk, Ace would nope out of the water real quick and go back to his room to warm up with some whiskey from the mini bar.

But alas, dick prevails over brain, even as said dick isn't a fan of the shift in temperature and starts shriveling up as soon as the water comes up to his knees. In retrospect, the boxers were a great idea.

“How is the water?” the man echoes his earlier question, gauging his reaction and probably seeing right through him.

“It's v-very… refreshing!” Ace manages without his teeth clattering too much, his breath hitching when the water laps at his belly.

Goddamnit, the things he will do to get laid.

When he's finally, finally neck-deep and does a few experimental swim strokes, trying to see if he's going to die from hypothermia or not, his companion smiles in approval.

“Stubborn,” the man offers, and Ace can't help but bark out a laugh.

“You don't know the half of it.”

They swim in silence for a little while as Ace tries to get his body temperature up and his thoughts in order.

“Any particular reason for the swim?” Ace finally manages.

“Hmm,” the man hums in thought, and the simple sound is almost a melody of its own. “Just trying to clear my head.”

There are so many things that are clearly off with this dude, but Ace doesn't care. Besides, isn't he the weird one, seeing a random guy swimming in the middle of the night and deciding to join him?

…Not to mention flirt with him.

“I assume from questions like ‘am I too beautiful for this world’?” he says, and it's definitely not one of his best lines, but it makes his companion perk up in surprise. "By the way, the answer to that is ‘yes’,” he adds, because why the hell not?

And then the beautiful man gives him a beautiful little smile.

“What's your name?” the man asks and Ace almost fails to mask the surprise on his face. That line actually worked?

“Ace,” he says, already prepared to make the familiar speech of how his mother always knew he'd be destined for the cards.

But the man is swimming closer, and Ace suddenly can’t remember any of his well-rehearsed story when the stunning stranger gets right up in his personal space.

“Ace,” he's saying his name in that voice, and he looks even better up close, high cheekbones and shimmering blue eyes— “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Ace says lamely instead of coming up with a witty one-liner, too focused on the man clasping his hands in his own, and they're weirdly cold but incredibly soft and wow, there's really no question of where this is going anymore. He's probably going to ask to take him home—

“Do you know what a siren is?”

The question takes Ace completely off guard, snapping his gaze up from their intertwined hands to look at the man's face.

Just in time to see the cute blue eyes and small smile morph into slit pupils and a toothy smirk showing off fangs that are definitely not human.

He yelps as something wraps around his legs, slimy and scaly and holy fucking shit it's the man's tail, a fish tail, he's heard the legends but he never believed them, but he sure as hell does now, but it’s too late and he's going to drown—

Except he's not sinking. The siren has his legs and arms immobilized, but he's keeping them both afloat, even though he could just dive underwater with Ace and he'd be helpless to stop it.

And despite the weird pupils and sharp teeth, he's looking at Ace almost curiously, as if to gauge his reaction again.

So Ace does what he does second best; defuse with humor.

“At least take me out to dinner before you tie me up.”

Yup, that will definitely either get him killed or thrown back on the beach in disgust.

But the creature merely blinks in confusion, seeming to process the words, and then he huffs out a laugh.

“You're lucky you're cute," the man simply offers, and then he leans in and Ace idly wonders if he's going to eat him. But instead there's a quick, chilly peck on his cheek, followed by a splash of water as the creature releases him and dives back underwater.

And Ace just floats there, staring stupidly at the small ripples formed by the splash, slowly bringing his hand up to his cheek to where the cold lips were just a moment ago.

“Same time tomorrow?” he calls out across the water, a grin spreading over his face when he hears a melodious laugh echoing from somewhere between the waves.

[talkfastromance4]

Snowed In (a.i)

A snow storm is happening where I live now and this sprung to life plus I love winter and I’d love to spend a day in with Ashton. *le sigh 

Word count: 1400

Warnings: fluffy snow fun ;) with a sprinkle of sexy time. i can’t help myself i’m sorry

Masterlist

••••

The weatherman said it would be a record breaking snowstorm and advised the public to stay off the roads until about afternoon the next day when the snow would stop falling. You and Ashton have rented out a cabin in Colorado for a little winter getaway before the craziness of album promos and interviews stormed it’s way in next. 

Ashton brushed it off and planned a whole day to walk the main street and check out all the little gift shops. You warned him profusely that that wasn’t going to happen while making sure you had enough food to last you a day and a half and called the front desk of the lodging to make sure there was a backup generator. There was. 

The next morning Ashton woke you up gently with soft kisses and back rubs (the best way to wake you up honestly, you weren’t a morning person like him) still excited about your shopping day. 

“Have you looked outside yet?” you asks rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“It’ll be fine, angel, it’s a little bit of snow,” he chuckles pulling on gray sweatpants. 

“Yeah?” you raise your eyebrows then glance at the closed curtains. “Take a look then weatherman.”

He cracks open the curtains then opens them wider. 

“Holy fuck!” he exclaims staring out at the white winter tundra. 

Everything was covered with snow while more still flurried in the wind, creating small snow tornadoes scattered about the ground. You giggle as he presses his head to the glass trying to peer up and down the length of the cabin. 

“Told you,” you giggle slipping from the bed and pull on his hoodie. The heat is on but there’s still a draft from the frozen world outside. “Let’s make coffee and snuggle.”

He doesn’t follow you into the kitchen so you work silently putting the Keurig cup in the maker and pull out two mugs. You get the creamer and sugar adding what you like in yours and what Ashton likes in his coffee before padding back into the bedroom. Ashton is still staring outside but instead of his head pressed to the glass, his arms are crossed on his chest. 

You set the mugs down gently on the dresser retrieving your phone and snapping a picture of him, you’ll post it later. You walk up behind him wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his back through his shirt.

“It’s so pretty,” he says twisting his torso so he can hold you against him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you nod admiring it for a moment. You grew up used to harsh winter days so while it was beautiful, you didn’t have to admire it for too long. 

“Come back to bed, I made you coffee,” you say kissing his chest. 

He rubs your back a few times, kisses your head then retreats from the window and back into the stale warmth of your bed. You hand him his mug then turn on the TV scrolling to Netflix and pick a random movie you’ve both seen. 

After your short movie time, Ashton wanted to go outside and explore the snow a little bit. He even wanted to attempt to make a snowman which you knew wouldn’t be possible because it wasn’t packing snow. But the way his eyes lit up who were you to crush that childish spirit?

You both donned your winter attire, happy you forced him to bring boots, and trekked outside. The silence of winter welcomed you with a soft whistle from the wind as it danced through the trees. Ashton took your mitten covered hand in his and you stomped through the snow to the edge of the woods. 

“Let’s try making Olaf,” he grins at you. His nose is already turning a light shade of pink and he looks too damn cute. 

You don’t know how long you struggled but by some miracle the snow stayed packed together into the shape of what could only be described as Olaf’s ugly brother. Ashton trudged to the end of the wood and gathered sticks but as soon as he put them in Olaf, he fell apart.

“No! I killed him!” he shouts causing his voice to echo loudly in the wintry air. 

“He lived a meaningful life,” you console, “no matter how short.”

Ashton looks at you with a pout but then giggles. 

“You have snow on your eyelashes,” he giggles trying to wipe them away. But the snow on his glove goes all over your face and you gasp at the sudden coldness to your skin. “Oops.”

“Oh yeah, ‘oops’ you jerk!” you laugh bending down to pick up some snow and chuck it at him.

It hits his face with a soft ‘fwump’ and he sputters it out of his mouth. A snow fight  ensues until he grabs your waist and you both fall into the powdery snow. You’re both covered from head to toe in the white fluff. Ashton looks too cute and snowy for you to pass up pressing your lips to his.

“You kissed my chin,” he laughs.

“I’m cold! I can’t feel anything!” you laugh back falling off him struggling to get up. 

“Let’s go back, I’m frozen, too.”

The warmth of the cabin washes over you but then brings attention to how cold you really are. Smacking your gloves together and stripping out of your snow things as fast as you can with Ashton following your moves, you can’t wait to get into that hot tub in the master bathroom. 

“I’ll get the tub started, come on,” he pulls your shaking body into the bathroom. He turns on the water then rushes into the bathroom to get warm and dry clothes. You’re still trembling when he returns and he grabs your hands pulling them to his mouth. He blows his breath on your hands.

“You’re s-so sweet b-but I c-can’t feel th-that,” you chatter. 

“I’m sorry, baby we shouldn’t have gone outside,” he apologizes checking the water. It’s almost at the watermark and he turns the jets on and makes sure the heat is set to a hot yet comfortable temperature. “All right, it’s ready.”

With frozen limbs you pull off your wet clothes with Ashton’s help and he holds your hand as you step into the tub. The water pierces your skin like a thousand knives but it’s a welcomed pain. You sit down fast, body still trembling as Ashton climbs in with you. 

He pulls you to his chest, his body heat transferring to yours instantly. You press your lips to his naked chest enjoying getting the feeling back in your lips. 

“How are you so warm all the time?” you ask lifting your head to look at him. 

“You make me warm, angel,” he pecks your nose. “We won’t go outside tomorrow. We’ll stay inside until it’s stopped snowing.”

“I told you so.”

He groans. “You’re making me feel like the worst fucking boyfriend.”

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” you smile climbing onto his lap. The hot water has done its job as you have feeling back in your fingers and toes but now you’re craving a different kind of heat. 

“Oh really? Care to share?”

“I think you can figure it out,” you smirk rubbing your core against his dick. You feel it harden beneath you. 

“You might have to tell me my little snow bunny,” he licks his lips before ducking his head to wrap his mouth around your breast. He sucks and licks, teeth grazing your sensitive area as you gasp out. 

“My mouth is frozen, I can’t,” you sigh. 

He releases your breast with a pop then moves to the next one while you grind impatiently against his hardened member. You let out a whimper at the mere idea of sliding down on him, having him fill you completely. He’s sucking on your breast probably attempting to leave a mark when he releases it with another pop. 

“I’ll let it slide this time, bunny,” he sighs situating you on his lap. He pushes himself into you and you gasp as you slip down him so easily. “But you’re going to tell me everything you want me to do to you when we get out of this tub.”

Being snowed in for another day won’t be the worst thing in the world.

[yeojaa]

SUGAR HIGH, chapter v. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary.  You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags.  angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional baggage, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~1400

chapter 5.  It’s Like Twilight

He's loved you since you were kids.  You're sure you've loved him for even longer.  Too bad you're too blinded by each other's light to realize you're standing on the precipice together.

Their return home doesn't go unnoticed - especially when they're holding coffees.

"Yah - where's mine!"  Dressed in his blue and white striped apron, spatula in one hand and hair sticking out in all directions, Seokjin looks like something straight out of a comic strip.  The eldest has all but launched himself across the kitchen counter, nearly sending his previously cradled mixing bowl to the ground.  

"Didn't know who would be up."  Taunting spreads like wildfire, licking across his lips as Jungkook takes a long, appreciative pull of the iced Americano that's causing such a fuss.  "Sorry, hyung."

Except, he doesn't look sorry at all, that little shit-eating grin making a home in the curl of his mouth and the way he languidly drops into the nearest seat, backpack deposited at his feet.  He's relaxing into the cushions, clearly very pleased with himself as he exhales a long yawn.  He'll make it up to Seokjin later, when they're exhausted from meetings and buzzing for some liquid gold in the form of espresso. 

Bemused laughter gives way - dragged off by something that sounds like 'ungrateful little maknae' - and Jungkook allows himself to sink further into the chair, arm thrown across his eyes.  He shifts this way and that, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, as he chases comfort like a dog on the hunt. 

A nap sounded really, really good right now.

"Everything okay?"  The voice comes from just above him and to the left.  Namjoon, of course.

'Or not,' he thinks, not unkindly.

"Yeah."  His response is muffled by the crook of his elbow, rumbling out of his chest and disappearing against sinew and bone.  It fills the silence for only a moment before he's realizing it's inadequate.  Straightening up and facing his leader head-on, he offers a smile that brims with unspoken gratitude.  "Everything's good."

Namjoon doesn't push further.  He never does.  He always trusts his members.  "Okay."

By the time everyone has woken up - or been drawn to the kitchen by the smell of cocoa and cinnamon - Jungkook's already showered and found his seat at the imposing dining table.  A leg is hiked up, foot flat against the inside of his ankle, as he tears into a still-warm waffle, careful not to coat his fingers in syrup.

He's humming to himself and scrolling through his phone with his free hand, seemingly lost in thought.

Really, he's making note of which photos to edit and which will never see the light of day.  

There's the shot of the '95ers, Taehyung's frame cradled by the smaller dancer's.  It's hard to tell whose limbs are whose, where one's hair ends and the other begins.  They're two halves of a whole, the same easy laughter radiating off them in waves.

There's Namjoon, framed against the skyline, his profile a stark contrast to the way orange flares across the horizon, devouring the bell-flower blue and leaving violet in its wake.

There's one of Hoseok, palms facing the camera as he'd leapt into a sudden reenactment of some of their latest choreography.  His face is barely visible, just a brilliant, all-encompassing smile.

And then there's you, sputtering around a mouthful of toothpaste.  You're together under the fluorescent light of your bathroom, his elbow resting on your shoulder as you make funny faces at each other in the mirror. 

"How's Soomi?"  The question draws him from his careful consideration, dragging his attention instead to the zombie come to life that's just dropped into the seat beside him. 

He wonders, briefly, who had to drag Yoongi out of bed this time.  He's glad it wasn't him. 

"She's fine."  Jungkook's response is noncommittal like the shrug he offers up.  It isn't his place to say.

"I'm surprised she got over it that quickly."

This stirs something in the younger's gut, his hand stilling mid-grab of a waffle.  Long enough for Yoongi to notice on his right and for Taehyung to steal said waffle on his left.  "You knew?"  He hates the way the question sounds, shocked and surprised and maybe just a little bit sullen.

"You're not the only one she talks to."  It's a reprimand framed around a mouthful of toast, edge of reproach softened by the way their eyes meet.  "I've known for a while.  She tries too hard to hide things when she's upset."

Jungkook knew that.  You'd always trip over your own two feet in your haste to come up with another excuse as to why you were upset, or why your Discord's Listening To was suddenly filled with heartbreaking songs.  You'd never admit something was eating you up inside;  you'd rather deflect with some terrible joke or another meme you'd found on Naver.  

"I didn't know it was that bad."  When Jungkook finally manages a response, he's keenly aware of how bad it sounds. 

But he'd been so busy - so wrapped up in preparing for their new release.  Their comeback had meant everything to him.  Not that you'd blame him, of course.  You wanted this, just as much as he did.  Anything for him.

"It's not a big deal,"  Yoongi mirrors the younger's earlier movement, narrow shoulders shifting beneath the cotton of his long sleeve.  He's spreading butter over another piece of toast as he speaks, quiet beneath the din of other voices.  "She was going to tell you eventually.  It just happened faster than she thought it would."  A bite and thoughtful chewing.  "Probably for the best, anyway."

It was no secret how little any of the seven men around the table liked your ex-boyfriend.

To them, it was strikingly evident you were as different as night and day.  Where you shone like the sun, he eclipsed the stars.  You'd always insisted the night sky was beautiful in its own way but you'd never realized those things kept secret and shameful at night would never compare to the glory of another morning.

"Yeah, for the best," Jungkook echoes.

"Your hair looks good, unnie,"  Yejin chirps as you approach the table, tray loaded with goodies from the pastry case. 

You beam from ear to ear as you sit down, pushing the offerings to your friend.  You'd managed to get in to see your stylist shortly after Jungkook had left, nearly begging him on the phone.  You had to admit - he'd done a phenomenal job.  

Sure, you knew you were never supposed to make any drastic style changes after a breakup but this felt right.

"Thank you."  

Picking apart a croissant - almond, your favourite - you allow silence to settle between the two of you.  It feels good to be out of the house for the first time in days.  Normal, almost.

You remind yourself it's only been 72 hours.

"So, Jungkook’s back?" 

You'd been waiting for the question, partially relieved when Yejin gets it out of the way so quickly.  You'd always appreciated that about her.  She was no-nonsense. 

"Yeah.  I'm not sure for how long, though."  Because no matter what it was never long enough.  One of the downfalls of being famous, you supposed.  Though, really - you didn't mind.  It kept your friendship strong, forcing you through bouts of silence and the sound of his voice only through the airwaves.

"You're finally going to tell him, right?"  She's expectant, tearing you apart with her eyes like you're doing to your croissant.

You snort, the sound unflattering and decidedly childish.  "There's nothing to tell."

"You're kidding me."  Yejin is the queen of making you feel like a freshman about to get hazed, brows darting high in what can only be described as disapproval.  Perhaps exasperation, too, and a sprinkle of love.  

"I'm serious.  We're friends."

It's her turn to snort, the sound derisive and cutting.  You know it's all in good fun, so you let it go. 

"If I had a friend that looked like that, we'd be more than friends."

"I'm telling Kihoon you said that."  Kihoon being her boyfriend of seven years and the reason you still believed in true love.  They were just so disgustingly perfect together.  

"Go ahead - he'll agree with me."

You know she's right so you stuff the rest of your croissant in your mouth, nearly choking when she rolls her eyes and mimes shooting herself straight through the head. 

Drama queen.

notes.   i accidentally refreshed my page while halfway through this chapter and that folks, is why you don't write in anything but Word (or the equivalent). big ol' fml. 

i apologize if this chapter was a little lackluster (and short!).  rewriting was awful.  the next chapter will be better, though. i think. i hope. 

also, listen to the classic BUDDY mix of ATEEZ's "twilight" if you want some real feels.

[plus-size-reader]

Weakness pt. 3

Ivar the Boneless x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1400 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Ivar sees the reader again, this time with the rest of his brother’s in attendance. He has to come to terms with the unfortunate truth...He is in love. 

———————————————————————————————————

It had been quite some time since that day in the great hall, and Ivar hadn’t seen you, even once. However, he couldn’t get you out of your head. 

Your heartbeat hammering against your chest, your breath fanning his face as your fingers lightly brushed along the bridge of his nose and his jaw. Every second was ingrained in his brain, playing on a loop on his eyelids, each time he closed them. 

You had done something to him on that day, and he wasn’t truly sure what it was. Perhaps you had cast a spell on him, that made it impossible for him to forget your face. 

Whatever it was, he couldn’t wait to see you again. In fact, he had been aimlessly wandering around Kattegat for days, hoping to find you. If he made it look like coincidence, he didn’t have to feel so pathetic. 

After all, he was a son of Ragnar and chasing after a girl wasn’t his way. 

If anything, the girls should have been swarming him...not that he’d be paying much attention. 

Ivar had never felt the way he felt about you for another person. You were unique, special and everyone who met you knew it. 

Now he just had to find you so that he could tell you in person.

~ 

Ivar had been wandering around outside for hours, and by this point, he looked crazy. 

Crazy enough for each of his brothers to stop what they were doing, just to watch him. Between the three of them, they couldn’t figure out what he was doing, hobbling around on his crutch.  

“What are you doing brother?” Hvitserk finally asked, leaving his brothers behind to approach Ivar. He was a strange man at all times, but this was something different. 

Never in his life had Hvitserk seen him act this way. 

The younger man groaned, clearly inconvenienced by the whole conversation, though he didn’t really have a reason to be. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be confused. 

“Nothing, leave me be” he ordered, knowing full well that Hvitserk was going to ignore him. Instead, he just stood there, waiting for some kind of development. 

Leaving Ivar to pout never really worked out in anyone’s favor. 

Hvitserk eventually sighed, leaning down to come face to face with his brother’s blue eyes.

That was when he put it all together. 

He had seen that look before. Not in Ivar’s eyes, but in Ubbe’s, ever time he looked at Margrethe. 

...Ivar was in love. 

“There’s a girl, tell me-what is her name?” he asked, a grin snaking its way onto his face. Hvitserk felt the need to tease the other man, deep in his gut, but resisted the urge. 

Instead, he was going to use this opportunity to get as much information out of his little brother as possible. 

If he had caught him off guard enough, perhaps he would tell Hvitserk what he wanted to know. 

“Why would I tell you? So you could track her down and deflower her?” Ivar spit, knowing his brother better than anyone. Hvitserk had quite a reputation with free women and thralls alone, and Ivar wasn’t going to let him steal you away.

Surely between the two of them, you would choose Hvitserk, just like the rest always did. 

No, he wasn’t going to tell him. Ivar had already made up his mind. 

“I would not do that to you brother, I would just like to know her name,” he assured, laughing at the implication of his brother’s jealousy. Whoever you were, he was sure that you were quite the woman. 

None of his brother’s had ever seen Ivar act this way. 

However, before Ivar could tell him, he saw you across the way. 

You were walking through the farmer’s spread, looking for fresh apples so that you could make a pie. They had always been your mother’s favorite and with harvest quickly approaching in Kattegat, this was the perfect time to get them. 

In fact, you were so preoccupied with the produce that you didn’t even realize that four grown men all had their eyes on you. 

You had an agreement with the owner of the orchard. He would hold back a few of his best apples, in exchange for fresh bread, which you also liked to bake. 

You gathered the basket he had for you, thanked him and then went on your way. You knew the way back to your home by heart, so you didn’t ever worry about getting lost. 

“Y/N!”

You stopped in your tracks as soon as you heard him. 

It was Ivar, though you had no idea where he was. Unlike the closed quarters of the great hall, there was too much noise in the middle of the street for you to figure out where the sound had come from. 

“Ivar? Where are you?” you wondered, your free hand feeling around a bit, assuming that he was near you. Little did you know, he and his audience were on the other side of the trail. 

It was around this time that Hvitserk and the rest of his brother’s put the pieces together. 

They had never seen a blind person in real life before, aside from the seer of course, and didn’t know what to do. After all, there had to be some kind of protocol for dealing with a woman who couldn’t see them. 

Ivar’s attention was fully poised on you, so much so that he didn’t even realize when Ubbe stepped forward to help you. He only smiled at his brother as he approached you, letting him know that he meant well. 

“Hello, my name is Ubbe, I’m going to help you over to Ivar, if that’s okay?” He greeted, instantly flustering you. You had never met any of the other princes but this was quite the way to do so. 

You only nodded, feeling his arm loop around your own, helped you toward where you assumed Ivar was. 

Ivar was grateful for the help, though he wanted nothing more than to help you himself. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t do that for you, he could hardly stand himself, led alone lead you around on top of that. 

“Thank you, my Prince” you hummed, feeling him let go after bringing you over to where his brother had been waiting. 

This time, when you reached out, you found the familiar leather of Ivar’s wrist braces beneath your fingers. 

If there was any question in their minds over whether you were the girl or not, that had all gone now. Ivar had this dreamy look on his face, that he was glad you couldn’t see. 

He likely would never hear the end of this, but in the moment, he couldn’t care less. 

All he could think about was you. 

“Hello Y/N” he smiled, taking your hands in his own, your skin so much smoother in comparison to his. Everything about you was smooth and gentle, so different than everything else in his world. 

You were perfect, in every way and he only wished that he could tell you. 

“Hello Ivar, how are you?” you wondered, sort of confused as to why you were just standing there in silence. Little did you know, he was struggling to gain his confidence to speak to you. 

Never had he felt this way before, like there was some sort of creature in the pit of his stomach, clawing to get out. It was both terrifying and amazing all at once. 

“I am alright, happy to see you” he allowed, feeling silly as he said it, though he didn’t want to admit it. Everything about how he was feeling right now was wrong. 

He hated it but somehow, he couldn’t get enough. 

It didn’t matter to him in the moment that his brother’s were likely going to make fun of him forever over this. All he could think about in this moment was how beautiful you looked. 

“Why don’t you invite your friend to have dinner with us Ivar?” Ubbe suggested, only half kidding. He was teasing but it wasn’t a terrible idea. 

Ivar just struggled to focus with you so close to him. However, prompting from his brother did wonders to help. Now he just hoped that you would agree. 

Because whether he liked you or not, Ivar wasn’t a patient man.

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter One

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.

[Chapter Two]

It's a straightforward kind of situation, as their kind of situations usually go. John's been up in the Comm sphere three hours now, monitoring the reconstruction of an old, 2040s satellite. No rescue call yet but John was grim faced and bleak as he reported to his brothers that it was only a matter of time, and that when things go wrong in space, things tend to go wrong fast - so it's best to be prepared. It's not far out from Five though; he and Star can handle anything that might arise, but Alan downstairs has got Three idling on Standby just in case.

Speaking of Star, the station's resident jailbird is making her way up from the galley, a plastic, lidded mug of hot tea and a bagel in hand - because lord knows John-beanpole-Tracy doesn't have the sense to go get such things for himself when he's all mission focused like this. 

Star is bored, and John is busy. She knows this, but she also knows it’s been too long since he’s eaten, and he’d been awake before she had, so she was well within her rights to start working her way into his space. The 2040s satellite gives Star the creeps, and she’d much rather it be over and done with so they can go back to their usual menu of natural disasters and idiot brothers… things she can help with… things that don’t mean disaster if things go tits up.

“Oi, John,” Star calls into the Comm Sphere, hovering in the doorway. “I have food and tea, which you are going to eat. You wanna do it up there or are you gonna come down here?” 

His head turns toward her, surprised to find an invader in his little bubble. His hair, that's grown out a little longer than he usually keeps it, bounces around his head in the OG. It's been a busy week. 

"Ah, thanks Star." He flicks a schematic away, long fingers dissolving it into blue particles, evidently of no more use to him. Like this, he seems as much a part of the sphere as his floating blue holograms are. "We've got some suspicious activity around the station. I've been unable to find an official statement or licence for its reconstruction, though my readings have had two heat signatures working over there since 1400 Eastern Standard."

Not many people have the funding or means to re-build a space station for the fun of it though, so it seems likely that it's a perfectly innocent endeavour. A lot of the old, 2040s materials the station was originally built with remain a cause for concern though. Especially as John hasn’t been able to identify the boarders to find out if they have a licence to handle them safely. It's easy to see why him suspects something could go wrong. The GDF have been alerted, but Colonel Casey has yet to get back to him about it. 

Pressing his worries down to focus on the present, John kicks off the side and glides gracefully over to Star like it's nothing, taking the tea mug with a warm, grateful smile.

Star pulls a face at John’s suspicion, relinquishing her hold on the tea and food absently, as if the news had put her on autopilot. She knows where the other brothers are, and where they themselves sit in the universe, and it is an undeniable fact that if something were to go wrong -under suspicious circumstances or not- she and John would be the next closest people to go and help. Star has a love-hate relationship with space rescues. On one hand; sure International Rescue is there to save everyone, but on the other… this isn’t a natural disaster or an accident. If anyone is dumb enough to be out of atmosphere, that was their call. She’s definitely gotten better at space, several spacewalks now tucked under her belt from various repairs (including the infamous one in which John broke his arm) and the general sightseeing she let the red-headed astronaut drag her on from time to time. If she was being honest, she’d do it any time he asked, if only for the way his eyes light up, in awe of the stars. 

“John, that is the exact opposite of what I want to hear up here,” she moans, peering over his shoulder at the glowing red-orange-yellow of two people in a sea of cold blue. She tears her eyes away to give John a once over -dark under-eyes and too long hair and all. “What exactly are you worried about? What could go wrong?”  

"What would I do without you?" He jokes, "I'd better stay up here and keep and eye on it," he takes a large mouthful of tea, eyelashes fluttering as the caffeine hits his system. "Mmmm, perfect."

“You’d starve,” she tells him, not for the first time. And it’s true. 

John gives her a more amused hum, already leaving the lidded mug floating in OG beside him so that his hands are free to card through his schematics. The bagel makes its way to his mouth, though it almost seems like he forgets it’s there as he plunges his fingers back into the world of glowing blues and green and lines and data and the little triangular logos that warn him about everything going on in the world, anything that could be a situation. There’s at least a hundred of them, and it’s a quiet day. Just because a situation has the potential to turn dangerous though, doesn’t mean it will.

So it’s strange that John seems to have fixated on this one.

“Unclear.” He rolls his shoulders back, unconsciously trying to relive some of the tension in them. “I have a…” His nose wrinkles, unhappy, “Mm, don’t tell Gordon, I don’t want to confirm his squid sense thing, but I’ve just got a feeling about it, is all.”

John is the last Tracy who’d ever run on pure feeling alone, but a Tracy’s a Tracy and all of them have good instincts, at the core of it. Squidsense or otherwise.

He grabs the tea mug again, eyes still scanning the screens, for something to do with his hands more than anything. 

Star chews on her lip while he takes a drag of the tea and finishes his mouthful of bagel and- John is looking at her. Star see’s the red-flashing warning in his Comm Sphere before he does, moments before what could only be an alarm starts blaring through the speakers. 

John reacts like lighting - it’s perhaps the fastest she’s ever seen him move. One jumble of holographic letters gets shoved out the way and another one is pulled up in its place, then another, then another, all in rapid succession. He skim reads everything so quickly that it makes Star’s eyes hurt, and then he’s discarding his tea and the rest of his bagel in favour of grabbing his helmet. 

Star is still hovering, watching him with her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, searching for words her brain can’t seem to catch before they skitter away. In the end, she settles for swearing. John reaches for his helmet, and Star is suddenly very aware that she is (as usual) not in her uniform, the cool recycled air raising goosepimples on her arms and legs, bare of her pyjamas. 

“We’ve got a situation.” John announces to whoever he’s got listening, brusque and professional, “Eos, update Tracy Island for me will you? Me and Star are gonna take the gear and go EVA to…” He pauses for a second, and the actuality of things seems to catch up with him, “Uh... you ok with that?” He checks, looking back over his shoulder, as if he’s suddenly realised that she might not want to go out there, to a dangerous, unknown station right in the middle of bloody open space. At some point, he seems to have gotten so accustomed to having her at his side, he’s started taking it for granted. He looks guilty about that.

“It’d be good to have two of us out there,” He backpedals, worried she won’t agree to come with him, “You know, for if either of the workers on board have been injured, or if they become hostile. I mean, I don’t think they’re up to anything legal… but if they’re in danger then, well, we’re International Rescue, right?” He says, like everyone possesses the same mad heroism the Tracy’s do. He shines her one of those sweet, spaceman smiles of his for good measure, though he’s got no idea how goddamn effective those really are. Boy doesn’t know the power he wields. “Our scanners picked up some kind of explosion over on that old space station,” John goes on, “it looked pretty severe and, if these readings are right, she’s still got a belly of old, radioactive fuel that could be a problem. It’s definitely not the kind of stuff we want leaking out into orbit. Could pose a threat to everyone up here.” He says, like that’s the reason she’d go with him.

He’s really impressively oblivious to the fact he needs someone looking out for his ass.

It’s right then and there that Star comes to the realisation that she much prefers it when John doesn’t ask. Following blindly is easy, going along with whatever half-baked plan he’s got in his head to make sure it doesn’t end in tears, or at the very least, John comes out of it alive. Star’s good at that, the sudden appearance of a disaster, a problem that needs to be solved, and she can ride her way out of it on a wave of adrenaline, sarcasm, and the need to make sure John’s dumb ass is alright. It’s an expectation that is relatively easy to live up to. 

Choice, though… that is something else. Star doesn’t understand what’s flashing across the screens, but it is an awful lot of red and urgency and its

space

. She doesn’t know if there will be artificial atmosphere in the station in need, or if it will be little more than a dead hull haunting the universe like a ghostship, but she can’t even think about it because the empty expanse of

nothing

between it and them makes her want to curl up and hide. The rabbit-fast thudding of her heart in her chest threatens to choke her, but it doesn’t matter. 

There was never really a choice. She’s not ever going to leave John alone. 

“What kind of a question is that,” she murmurs, trying to force a full breath of air into her lungs. “What do you think I’m going to do, sit here and watch?” 

 “I just need to…” Star gestures to what she’s wearing. “I think I’m going to need my spacesuit.” 

John barks out a laugh at that, startled and sweet, and he’s smiling as he waves her away.

“Thanks Star. Suit up, quick as you can.” He’s already running a pre-flight safety check of both his and Star's Exosuits, “Make sure you grab a full O2 tank.”

While he’s waiting for her he discards multiple alarms and pulls up the schematics for the station they’re hopping across to. Screens show a large portion of her aft hull blown open and the fuel tanks are giving off enough cosmic background radiation to confirm his theory that they're probably leaky. John checks his tool belt, finding the small, compact welder securely in its place, ready for use. He doesn’t anticipate any problems sealing the tanks back up, just as long as whoever’s on board over there allows him to do his job. Hopefully they listen to reason. If not… well that’s what he’s got Star for, right?

Star shimmies into her spacesuit, still reluctant about owning the damn thing, despite the fact it clearly comes in handy. She keeps her NASA shirt on underneath, soft and too big which probably means it's actually John's, but he’s long since given up trying to reclaim his clothing. From across the station, she can hear John talking to EOS, professional words sprinkled with tolerant laughter that manages to rub Star’s already prickly temper up the wrong way. But she’s ready in no time, standing in front of John covered neck to toe in the strange wetsuit looking spacesuit, her helmet tucked under one arm. The oxygen tank was already sitting with the suit when she put it on, the little dial as close to ‘full’ as it was going to get. 

“Anything else you need me to bring?” she asks him, noting his little stash of tools. It makes her feel strangely naked, like she’s forgetting something. She coaxes her head at the screens behind him. “Anything I should know? About what we’re walking into?” 

John runs his eyes over her speculatively, considering. She looks small and skinny in her spacesuit, all nobbly knees and elbows and even the deep, navy blue sash doesn't help bulk her out like John's does for him.

Instead of the thick stripe of sunny orange John's got, Star's is thinner and flatter, with a different method of strapping around her littler torso. It's a much lighter, easier thing to carry around but still, like John's toolkit, it has enough pockets and pouches for anything they might need: pressure resistant emergency suit patches, super strength glue, a small medikit and a whole bunch of pliers and zip ties and thingamabobs and there's even a small hammer, tucked into a zipped seam opening. She's not got the same wires and solder and electronics communications gear that John's got, her design is far more streamlined - stripped to the essentials. 

"Here," John tosses her three small grapple pack cable cartridges, knowing just how bad it can be to run out mid EVA and have no way to propel yourself across the void and wanting to prevent that for her.

Star catches the packs… barely. Her fingers are clumsy and uncoordinated in the confines of her space suit. She can see what John is doing, always stocking her up with the tools to escape, but he doesn’t know about the knife she’s got tucked away in an extremely reinforced pocket of her sash, the pocket she tries to keep conveniently turned away from him as she stands patiently and lets him check her over. She just hopes he’s prepared himself as well as he has her.

He spares a second to safety check her suit seals and helmet, but they have little more time to spare and so he's pushing off the floor of the Comm Sphere and gliding up toward the hatch for the Exosuit assembly rig, talking as he goes.

"The station is an old Xz197 craft, decommissioned following the Global Conflict after the upsurgence of the green energy movement. There's no place in space for nuclear energy these days." He smiles warmly down at her as the assembly rig snaps the pieces of the Exosuit on around him. "It was deemed far too dangerous for them to send anyone up to clean it out, which begs the question, why is it inhabited now, and what are they doing aboard when I can't seem to find any kind of permit for them to be there?" It's clear this has been bothering him for hours, but without a good excuse for Colonel Casey, like an explosion apparently, he could do nothing but watch.

Star raises an eyebrow at that, waiting as John gets himself into the exosuit. Her breath makes a little circle of condensation in her helmet, a constant reminder that she’s alive in her peripheral vision; that space hasn’t gotten her yet.

‘And how would you feel about me bringing a crowbar along?’ She asks, and it’s only half a joke. She’s a barely useful second pair of hands in a repair situation, being half decent security is the least she can do. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got some kind of scanner, so we’ll be able to tell what’s radioactive when we get out there? So we’re not flying blind?’ 

Star grew up with criminals, she knows whoever these people are, their cooperation is unlikely. It brings her heart rate back down to a reasonable level. People, she can deal with, she can protect John from. 

Before she knows it they’re in the airlock, and Star has never hated EOS’ voice more than when she is counting down the door opening. Then, just like that… what Star has only ever been able to think of as freefall into the great unknown.

John quirks a ginger brow at her, uncertain if the crowbar thing is a joke or not.

“If you think we’ll need one.” He concedes, though he’s fairly certain there’s no such thing onboard. “Scanner’s on your wrist,” John takes a moment to demonstrate, sliding two fingers along the black panel that takes up half the length of the back of his forearm, so that it lights up with schematics. “I’d never leave you to fly blind.” A quick flick of his wrist to the left and the jumble turns into a simple meter, green at the moment, though with the potential to rise through the traffic light to a bright, alarming red, the more radiation is detected. “Don’t worry,” He tries to reassure, “Our suits will protect us as long as the radiation level doesn’t exceed the dark orange. And we won’t be over there long enough for that to be a problem.” He sounds very certain about that. A simple in-and-out rescue. 

As if anything for them ever stays simple.

[breathinginthevapor]

Falling

Summary: You miss Tom after your breakup. Based on falling by Harry Styles

A/N: Falling is my favourite on Harry’s amazing album, and I just had to write something based upon it!

Word count: 1400+

T/W: mentions of alcohol, hinting at cheating

Masterlist

//

The silky lining is cool against your skin, serving as yet another reminder of the missing presence beside you. You have gotten so used to the warmth of his body that no matter how many covers you lay under, there’s always a kiss of icy cold when he’s not there.

You bury your head in your pillow, but its rosy colour resembles the one on his cheeks when he blushes, and the images of his face wrapped up in despair becomes clearer when you close your eyes. 

So, you sit up and lean against the bedframe, gazing out of the window to the dark streets of London where drunk girls who look all too young to be out at this time of the night stumbles home, the lucky ones clinging to each other while the less fortunate hugs their jackets closer to their bodies and tries not to fall because they know that nobody is there to catch them.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you look at one girl, illuminated by a flickering streetlight. Her shoulders shake, and it looks like she’s crying as she walks only a few steps behind a couple other girls laughing loudly. You wonder why they don’t turn around and ask her to join the conversation, or at least ask if she’s alright, if she needs anything.

But then again, you, of all people, would know why; It’s way too easy to get wrapped up in the thrill and excitement of the moment and forget about everything and everyone else.

The lonely girl takes a left turn and disappears out of your field of vision along with the chatty group that enters an apartment complex, and soon, the street is empty. Unusual for a Friday night in London, but you shouldn’t be surprised that even strangers avoid being near you.

And you don’t blame them, don’t blame your friends that have grown tired of you or Tom who has left you because of those terrible things you’ve done, this awful person you’ve become.

Truth be told, you are beginning to question whether you’d want yourself around.

You’ve always thought you were a good person. Not the rainbow-out-your-ass type of good, but a supportive friend, a caring daughter, a gentle lover.

But good persons don’t do what you’ve done.

Today was the second time you’ve seen him after the break-up. The first time, just a couple weeks after your split, he was standing outside your flat with a big cardboard box.

//

“Don’t want your stuff lying around anymore,” he said, coldly, his face in an emotionless expression, like cut in stone. He held the box out for you and waited for you to grab it, but you didn’t, you couldn’t, you just stared at him and soaked up every small thing about him, from the acne scars on his chin to the tilt of his eyebrow to the dark brown colour of his eyes.

He dropped the box to the floor and turned around, taking a few steps down the stairs.

“Stay, please, I- I haven’t slept since you left, I don’t know what to do without you, I’m so sorry, Tom, please, I-“ you begged him.

He paused, shoulders raised, before he ran down the remaining stairs, the door slamming behind him.

//

The box he handed you that day seems to be mocking you from its place beside your cabinet. It’s been months, and still, you can’t unpack it. You don’t want to know which things he has put in there, like whether or not he has kept the picture you painted together on your second anniversary or the Spiderman T-shirt you gave him for his last birthday.

Thankfully, he had been kinder today. Softer around the edges, forgiveness braided into his tone. He was doing good, he told you while you were standing in the line. Was working on a new film he was really excited about, something about royalty and a heist, and he had had this charming grin on his face and his eyes had lit up, hands gesturing wildly to mimic explosions.

And you think that it made it worse, that you would have preferred him to be mad, to still not have gotten over the what you had done because at least it would mean that he hadn’t gotten wholly over you either.

And you suppose that makes you selfish, and that you should want him to be happy, and you do, but you wish he could be happy with you again.

It hadn’t been your usual barista today, and maybe that was good because the small café close to his parents’ house already held too many memories.

You had sat at your usual table, and out of habit, he had ordered the usual for both of you. You were surprised he remembered, honestly, but when the barista came to your table with only one cinnamon bun, it had gotten quite awkward.

“Do you remember that first time?” you had asked him before thinking it through. “I thought it was so romantic that we shared.”

He had chuckled and broken the cake in half, just like he always did, giving you the bigger half.

“How could I forget. That was our thing.”

And he had nudged you gently with his shoulder and pushed his glasses up his nose, and you had hated yourself for hurting him.

Perhaps he had felt that, because he looked at you worriedly and asked you how you were doing.

“Do you care?” you had asked him.

“Of course I care, Y/N.”

And he had taken your hand, and you had tried to blink away tears, but to no use. Drying them off with the back of your hand, you had told him that you missed him.

“I miss you, too. Terribly so. But this is for the best.”

“Not for me,” you had sobbed.

You had immediately regretted saying it, but of course, there was no way to take it back. Still, you cursed yourself far away for continuing to be so damn selfish.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he had said, gently, and his gaze had pierced your eyes in what felt like a silent declaration of love.

And you had known right there that the two of you had run out of things to say. That everything beyond this point wouldn’t change a single thing or offer any of you more consolation.

Still, you had small-talked a bit, and he had told you a funny story about Sam, and you had laughed in that whole-hearted, head-tilted-back kind of way that you only did with him. And he had asked you about your job, and you had complained to him about your stupid boss, and the whole time you just sat there and thought that this was ok. That having him here beside you, not as a lover but maybe as a friend, was better than nothing, because gosh, you might not want yourself around anymore, but if it was up to you, he’d always be a constant figure in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” he had asked you.

“I think you’re the best person I know,” you had said, honestly, and watched conflicting emotions playing on his features.

“Thank you,” he had said, and it had sounded like he meant it. But then, he had smiled apologetically, “I have to go, sorry.”

He had stood up and shrugged on his jacket, blue denim sitting tight on his broad shoulders and a black beanie hiding his unruly curls. Giving you a quick hug, he had left a few bills to pay for the coffee and then turned around.

He had taken a few steps before turning back, crooked smile and sad eyes making it out for contrast on his face.

“Don’t be a stranger, ok?”

“Ok,” you had promised with a brittle voice.

But you wondered if you already were.

And now, lying in a bed meant for two under covers you never would have bought for yourself, it feels like falling, like a wake-up call. It’s time to be responsible, you figure, time to turn your life around and ensure that you can be someone you’d like. And the first step is unpacking that box from Tom.

You eye the cardboard as if it’s a dangerous animal, trying to figure out if it will go after you before you decide that unpacking is a task for another day.

You have to hit the ground first.