#maybe I should even let one of them have an Honest Emotion instead of repressing and deflecting all the time. maybe

[flowersforthemachines]

Last Line Written

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence!

Thank you @soeasilyswayed @complikatedd @skullypettibone and @kindlyfeline for tagging me, I love being thought of <3

Arguably the best thing to come out of taking a break from Tumblr is a post-canon fic of Viago and Ghilasara solving a Problem through the power of politicking and emotionally detached behaviour. Here's the latest line from that:

It will be fun, Viago, she wants to add. Or at least entertainingly miserable.

Tagging @wardensantoineandevka @rookamell @broodwoof @dymme bc I don't believe you've done this one c: (but feel free to ignore)

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [03]

Contents: Smut, little bit of dirty talk, supernatural themes, romance, fluff, unedited.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungkook x omega!reader

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: Hello angels, sorry for the LONG wait, was so busy with school and depressing myself, but here it is, I tried to do my best and please also remember that English is not my first language be kind (😩), sorry for any grammar mistake, enjoy it and take care besties! 💖

Jungkook was insatiable, he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you, he has already fuck you senseless on the kitchen counter, the sofa, the living room floor, the restroom sink, simply everywhere, but he seem to want more and more and more, he wanted so much that you could hardly believe it.

Right now you were waking up, feeling incredibly good, feeling like everything was fine, but those emotions were gone as soon as common sense started to come back to you. Yesterday, Jungkook’s hands everywhere, that incredible first orgasm, but the one who made it happen… His scent, his bright eyes, strong arms making you feel like you can do it all, but above all the interest he had in you, what makes you feel on cloud nine it’s the way he seemed to be mesmerized by your expressions and sounds, knowing right where to touch without a doubt. Almost every space in your skin was painted by the ferocity with which he seems to love you, that marks on your skin being the carnal representation of your wonderful night but insecurities started to rise right at this moment, your mother will be mad, she will yell at you that in the pack were more suitable omegas for alpha Jungkook, the nasty glances and the possibility that some of the females in the pack may try to take what is yours, damn, the mere thought of it makes your eyes turn bright red provoked by the sudden rage coursing through your body. Immediately sensing the unpleasant feelings in you Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, wet hair and drops of water running down his body, making your mouth water, so just like magic your body and inner wolf instruct you to crawl to the end of the bed and touch him, to offer yourself to him, second thoughts completely forgotten by now so you follow your instincts and touch and admire from his hard abdomen to caressing his broad shoulders and just show him that look in your eyes, the one he knows like the back of his hand consequence of all the hours spent admiring and getting to know your body.

“Little girl woke up hungry?”

A hand of his goes to your waist and the other caress your cheek and just like fire can light up the darkest place your senses explode inside of you and once again everything feels a hundred times more, all the textures around you, you can hear the sounds of children and women playing in the distance, even the steps of the smallest animal but his deep chuckle brings you to him again and you feel like melting. Even kneeling at the edge of the bed he is much taller than you, (like a shelter for the most difficult moments in life), warm and golden skin beneath your fingertips and the delicious beating of his heart calming all your nerves and insecurities.

You look right back at him with the same intensity, different shades of golden dancing in your eyes while his are different shades of deep purple, the connection between both of you more palpable than never, trying not to break the eye contact you turn your face to his nearest scent gland, which means is his wrist, basking yourself in his delicious aroma.

“I see what you are at puppy, but I’m afraid that I can only deal with you once before I leave”

His last words hit you hard making you feel like drowning and desperate from one moment to another.

“Are you leaving?, I thought that this days… Were for us”

He can see your teary eyes making him wish he had never said that, breaking his heart a little.

“Don’t be like that baby, I will make sure to end that meeting as soon as I can to come back to your arms but you will have to be a good girl and wait here”

You know he is in a hurry but you can not help but want submit to his wonderful hands and simply seduce him to have him eating out of the palm of your hand, have him only for yourself and memorize all his features.

“You promised it, you said you were going to make me a priority always, you lied to me”

You weren’t usually like this, but when he is around your common sense flies out of the window, so while you're throwing a tantrum and moving uncontrollably under his body he grows impatient and his alpha instincts kick in, putting with undeniably force both your wrists above your head and growls, the signal he’s giving you to submit, the air in the bedroom changing its way.

“Pretty girls know how to wait and to obey their alphas, I already told you I was sorry puppy and remember that I don’t fucking owe apologies to anyone, if I knew this wasn’t important I would have told them to fuck up, you should know your place baby, but good news for you, I’m feeling like even though you have been a little bit of a bad girl you deserve to remember me all over this pretty skin while I’m gone, isn’t that what my puppy wanted, huh?”

He manhandles you until you’re comfortably seated en his strong tights, holding his gaze you can see all the things he wants you to know, all that shit that cannot be said, all the things that are not expressed in a good way by putting them into words, so instead you will use your bond and body.

“Sit on my dick slow baby, make it hurt so you have something to remember, get yourself full of my pups”

And you do as you are told, you slip right where you belong to, starting to bounce yourself slow and hard but even though it feels like heaven you feel like you’re going to die because he doesn’t touch you, he is just watching.

“Touch me please or I’m going to hit you hard”

He laughs but you know he's holding back the urge to order you around.

“I love when my little girl turns all bossy”

You wiggle your hips not exactly knowing where to look but what makes you let out a loud moan of his name is the way he thrusts his incredible hips harder than you had planned, tip of his touching the spongy spot that makes you meet god in person.

“If I’m not gonna have you for a while at least show me that fierce side of you one more time baby, gods above, look at you, bouncing tits and pretty face with an even prettier voice filling my ears of pretty sounds, fuck puppy, turn around and see yourself on the mirror”

You tell him to wait a second because you want to remember him like this, beneath your body and that playful smirk but when you do turn a little your face to see the image that bites back at you is incredible, you even smile don’t exactly recognizing you but looking damn hot on top of your man. You can’t with the feelings so the first thing that comes to your mind is to grab a hold of some of his beautiful locks of hair and tug hard, enough for him to gain some more lustful rage and suddenly slam you in the mirror that both of you were looking a moment ago with such excitement, what brings you back to reality of the pleasure that does nothing but increase is the manly hand grabbing at your jaw, making it open slightly, enough for him to spit on it. And you fucking love it.

“That’s a good mate baby, swallow it all and show me”

All this time he hasn’t stopped that sinful hips of his so at this time it’s starting to hurt and you begin to loose all your grips but you now that he will catch you anyways.

All you are feeling is incredible, you fell full, satisfied. Your throat feels hoarse but it doesn’t matter as you held gazes once again, but it’s the whole moment, your own bubble. Watching his pretty eyes you realize that you have won in live, entirely.

“You don’t have a fucking idea of how bad I want to mount you everywhere until I know you are really pregnant, hell baby I love you so fucking much”

He is right in front of your face, both of your moths open but your not kissing, now he’s the one grabbing your hair into a fist but he can do whatever he wants with you right now and all you will say is thank you.

You’re both touching the finish lines and it’s then that you wonder if this is how it will always be, hot, sweaty and just incredible.

He kiss you right at the final, where both of you have reached the peak, smiling at each other like fools but entirely living the dream.

[...]

You know that Jungkook told you to not leave the room until he was back but you were really hungry and needing some fresh air, so knowing that maybe everyone was serving him in that meeting you dared to head for the nearest kitchen to just grab something and come back. You are happy when no one approach you on the way, focusing on the task to make you a quick drink and cut up some fruit.

You feel happy and complete, at ease with the environment despite missing your alpha a bit, but your clothes and body still smell like him so that’s something for now. That’s the same reason why you don’t hear the pretty and stealthy she-wolf approaching the kitchen, watching you closely.

“It stinks in here, you must have had a very good night young lady”

You jump a little because you are not supposed to see anybody in the sensitive state in which you now find yourself.

“Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to be here”

You murmured your words shyly so low that if it were not for the incredible senses of the lycanthrope body, the girl would have miss it.

She chuckles lightly and by her smell you know that she is a rare breed of a female alpha, but right now every smell its simply too much, almost unpleasant.

“No worries baby, no one else is here but me”

She is a little intimidating to be honest and It’s evident that she knows clearly what to do to get what she wants.

“I should… Probably go”

You try to rush towards the exit in order to feel protected inside the four walls where everything smells like Jungkook but just as you are about to walk through the door the pretty girl grabs you a little hard enough to make you let out a whimper. And it’s that exact moment that lets you know that something is awfully wrong, that you should have never left the room.

“Where are you going?, let me talk to you for a moment, I never had the pleasure of knowing you formally”

You know that she can her your heart beating uncontrollably and smell the fear mixed with nerves.

“Don’t be scared pretty thing just wanted to chat with you”

There’s something strange in her, something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“This shouldn’t be happening, I’m sorry but I really should get back to-”

While interrupting you she is also forcing you to sit on the small benches that are situated in the kitchen only to bring you to a full state of discomfort and nervousness.

“Is Jungkook really into you honey?”

The sudden questions makes you blink twice and hold a breath, this seems like a pointless conversation, she didn’t even try to do some more small talk .

“Pardon…?”

“Oh my, was I too direct?”

You still don’t see the clarity of the conversation because to your eyes she looks like a lunatic, asking questions about of nowhere.

“Honey, it’s just… Have you never heard what is whispered around the pack, about him and the pretty girl of the Kim pack or even worse… The boy with the deadly beauty from the Park family”

You do have heard the rumors, they were too strong when you were younger and more naive.

“I’m afraid that… I can’t help you with anything, I should really go…”

She puts his body in front of yours so that both of her arms are locked on the wall behind you, blocking any way out.

“Damn, just listen to me for a fucking second, I thought that you knew what was best for you”

You sit still because her harsh words came out more like an alpha command and you just couldn’t fight your true nature.

“Good girl”

You would never imagined that such a mundane phrase would disgust you so much.

“I know you don’t like me wolfie but I have been very well aware of the second thoughts that run at full speed in your little head about the bond that you share with that man”

if you had one wish, you would ask to disappear from this awful situation, if only you had listened to your alpha…

“I don’t understand what you want from me, please just let me go, I’m not going to tell Jungkook”

The female alpha just laughs a little, like you have said to her the funniest thing ever.

“He and I are at the same rank honey and of course you will not tell him anything, I have something that might interest you.”

Your posture is defensive but when she says that she backs a little and you take the opportunity to relax only little bit, a new look of curiosity in your angelic and innocent features.

“I don’t want to upset you honey but look at yourself for a second and tell me if you see yourself as the perfect representation of a good mate for someone like him”

She can easily see the insecurity cross your features because if anything has been bothering you since you found out about the bond it is that.

“I have the perfect solution to all of your concerns baby, there’s someone far more suited to take your place. Look at your neck, he hasn’t even marked you, but really, don’t worry and don’t overthink it, he will be in good hands. I know someone who can make the arrangements, all safe and of course you will be having a far more suited alpha”

It’s really stupid, but you actually think about it, as if all the previous moments with him didn't matter. At the end of the day all you're looking for is his well-being and happiness, isn't it?

People are going to talk, that's for sure, but you could assure him better commentaries and a better future, even if it's not by your side, but what will happen with the few moments that both of you have shared?

“In case you were wondering… No, you will not remember, everything will be gone as soon as the bond is broken. Just think about it for a second, remember all your insecurities and the bad feelings while being his mate, that must be annoying, let yourself be happy, both of you”

You are deep in your thoughts so you miss the way her canines grow in size and that dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I… I’ll do it”

Call yourself a fool, but that tempting offer was enough for you to maybe, just maybe get yourself a better life, but above all a better life and opportunities for him… Or at least that was what your insecure brain thought.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches, @teresaisla, @anachikartadze, @jeonwiixard, @seagulljjk

Nexts update: ?

All rights reserved.

[squiddybeifong]

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

--

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

[sillyguyhotline]

17. “How is any of this ok?” with Joe and Sara maybe?

dude im gonna be completely honest i havent written anything in like a month so i think the quality isnt gonna be great but here goes nothing

God, Sara missed the feeling of home.

Every semblance of familiarity and comfort she’d once found in the town she’d grown up in, the house she’d spent her childhood running through, now felt chillingly foreign.

Perhaps it was the heavy burden of knowledge weighing fresh upon her shoulders: ASUNARO’s corruption seemed now to peer slyly around every corner, no matter where she went. She still didn’t know how much of the town had rotted away under its grasp, how much of the town its poison had pervaded… but she was probably better off not knowing.

Whatever was left of Midori, that miserable mix of pulsing blood and electronic emotion, had been ground to bits inside that coffin… but Sara couldn’t ignore the creeping fear that his burning, ever-present gaze would appear out of nowhere and terrorize her again.

But he wouldn’t. The death game was over, and they’d promised they would never hurt her or any of her loved ones again.

Most of the loved ones she still encountered day-to-day, gruesomely blood splattered and sitting like corpses propped up hastily in a corner, would be safe no matter if ASUNARO was fresh on her tail or a thousand miles away. What a cruel price to pay for safety, to never be hurt again.

They still lived on if Sara closed her eyes tight enough, if she listened to the twisting words of the hallucinations and let them convince her she was monstrous. But the second she dared to open her eyes, she knew they’d be dead again. Life worked in terrible ways, and that was all there was to it.

Joe’s house had always been a second home to her, ever since the two of them became friends. Joe was the farthest cry from Sara in terms of social interactions- it had taken at least 3 months for Sara to trust Joe enough to invite him over, but Joe had insisted she hang out at his house the very same day they became friendly enough to exchange more than a sentence with each other.

There was a certain sort of comfort to the warmth of his house, the constant scent of cooking food pervading the air and the little trinkets scattered in every corner. No surface of his house went without decoration, in its silly little way. It was full of pictures, too, some carefully framed and some dangling from the wall by pushpins, but Sara got the sense that none of the photos went unloved. Most of them were occupied by an orange-haired man, often carrying a younger Joe (back when he was still sporting that atrocious crew cut). Sara always assumed it was his dad, but thought it would be impolite to ask… particularly when the weeks stretched on and Sara had yet to meet that mysterious orange-haired man.

Eventually, pictures of Sara began to join the collage on the wall- pictures taken as she butchered yet another pop song during karaoke, or when they went out to get food, or when she mistakenly sat down on a traffic cone during gym (after many protests from Sara, he took that one down). As silly as the pictures were, and as obvious as it was that Joe had waited for the most embarrassing moments to take them, it was sort of sweet in a way.

Joe’s mother was always kind to her, though there was a constant weariness in her eyes that Sara always felt a bit uneasy about questioning. Sometimes she’d let the two of them cook things in the kitchen, but more often than not they’d go up to Joe’s room and screw around in there, with video games or music or the 50 times Joe tried to persuade Sara to climb out the window and sit on the roof with him before she finally agreed.

As rare as it was for Sara to agree to sit on the roof, it was even rarer for Joe to agree to study with her, much to Sara’s chagrin. Joe had always walked a fine line between passing and failing, but Sara had to admit he walked it well. When she did manage to convince him to study, though (usually the day before final exams), they’d sit on the cushy couch in his living room and somehow manage to bother each other as much as possible while feigning concentration.

The couch hadn’t changed after several years- Sara could tell that much the minute she sat down on it and avoided the urge to break eye contact with Joe’s mother. It was still well-worn, a couch that likely should have been replaced at least a decade ago but had never really been disposed of. Loose threads were protruding from the cover, drawn out from years of visitors fidgeting with them.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the slight motion making her sink deeper into the couch’s soft cushioning. She’d only spent one minute in the house and was already sweating, whether from the heat of the home or the thousand-yard stare of the woman sitting across from her.

Ryoko was there, too, sitting to Sara’s left and gazing listlessly at the well-trodden carpet beneath her feet. …Ryoko.

Sara cast a hesitant glance around the room, duly noting the photos covering the walls. Not a single one of hers had been taken down, but several more photos had appeared with Joe’s beaming face featuring prominently in them. Joe’s presence was always enough to fill a room even when he wasn’t speaking; it took a lot to fill in the gaps left by his absence.

God, she missed him.

The wind whistled against the window-screen; Sara had memorized the familiar creak of the wooden window frame being lifted up to welcome in the mild autumn air. Sara had always thought of autumn as a beginning- she loved summer as much as any other kid, but as the haze of the weather began to wind down she was quick to grow impatient and look forward to the school year, to being productive again. Joe had always disagreed with her.

“Fall is the literal death of fun,” he’d complained once, walking home with Sara after finishing the first week of school. “Couldn’t they have pushed back the first day of school by, like, another week? You think if we got enough people to sign a petition, they’d give us an extra week of summer?”

“Oh, come on, we both know even if you had an extra week of summer you’d just be complaining a week later,” Sara had teased back.

The death of fun. It certainly felt like that, Sara decided. She’d never feared the looming darkness of fall and winter quite so much before. But now, she supposed, there was no sunshine who’d weather it with her.

“Well… Sara?” Joe’s mother spoke up, voice hoarse with the sound of repressed tears in her throat. Sara recognized the sound all too well.

There was no resentment in the woman’s eyes when Sara made eye contact with her. No anger, no frustration, nor had there been any in her measured motions when she welcomed Sara into the home. It didn’t take any words for Sara to tell that there was no blame to be foisted upon her.

She was still Joe’s best friend.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you out here on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was weak. “I don’t know all the details of what happened, of course. Haven’t heard anything, aside from the little tidbits the police told me when I dropped by the station.”

Sara’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the police, at the idea of them pleasantly answering her questions as though they weren’t just as complicit in that tragedy as ASUNARO had been.

“And…” the woman glanced down at her hands, toughened from a lifetime of working. “I know something terrible happened to you. The circles under your eyes are darker than midnight, I know it’s so selfish of me to be dragging you out here, but… I haven’t slept a wink for weeks. Been so worried about Joe, and about you too.”

She nodded in the direction of the black-haired girl who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. “Ryoko’s been worried about the both of you, too. Your parents weren’t answering the door, so she went to me. I hope you’ll forgive the two of us for disturbing you, Sara, but… you have the answers the police won’t give us, don’t you?”

God, her gaze was piercing.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

It was taking everything in Sara’s power not to look at the vacant seat to her right. If Joe was there, he would have been laughing and lightening the mood, completing the circle that had been left so jarringly empty.

But they wouldn’t have been having this conversation if Joe was there.

Ms. Tazuna nodded slowly. “This means the world to me, Sara. Don’t forget that.”

Sara did her best to muster a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The woman gave another nod, eyes defocusing as though even now, she wasn’t quite sure why she was there. “Alright. Alright. Well, then…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Guess I should get right to the point, yeah? Is he… is… how is he…?”

So she still hadn’t quite let go of that little thread of hope, even after seeing Sara return home safe and alive with no best friend in tow. Who was Sara to judge? When hope was the only thing to cling to, it only made sense to cling to it like a lifeline.

Sara twisted her hands, the same old nervous habit she’d had for years, and wondered briefly if she’d picked it up from Ms. Tazuna. How terrible it was, to carry the news that nobody, much less any mother, ever wanted to hear.

“I… I’m sorry, Ms. Tazuna. He didn’t make it out alive.”

Sara hadn’t expected the hush that immediately fell over the room. She’d expected immediate tears, the grieving cry of a mother in pain. Instead, the room became muffled, still as a painting captured in time.

Slowly, Ryoko looked up from her bitten-down fingers, eyes rimmed red already. Ryoko had always been an emotional person, the only person Sara knew who could fluctuate from full-on sobs to cheerful giggles in less than a minute. Sara was so unused to the look that was now filling her eyes- cold, solid misery. As though there were no tears in her eyes left to cry, no more tragedies to bemoan. Just a deep and horrified comprehension of just how many things in her life had gone wrong.

And, slowly, Ms. Tazuna began to cry.

Tears had become so uncomfortable for Sara to bear witness to. Was it selfish of her to look away? It couldn’t be, not when every raw sob reminded her of the art student seeing her first (and certainly not last) death, of the broken sibling openly weeping over apologies gone unspoken, of the unknowing siblings screaming their throats out with pleas for death so the other could survive.

Especially not now. Not when every tear rang in her mind as a reminder of cold tubes piercing her best friend’s chest, of his corpse slumping and falling in a pool of blood, because oh god he wasn’t supposed to have lost so much blood, how was he supposed to live without it, of the clickclickclickclickclicking rising in volume while her attempts to save him grew feebler and feebler.

Her hands were bloodstained, no matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Those dreadful hands of hers had failed her, failed Joe, failed the women sobbing openly in front of her.

She swallowed back the apologies that always rose in her throat as Ms. Tazuna rushed to sniffle back her tears.

“I… god, I… he’s really gone?”

Sara couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please… please tell me it was a peaceful death. He didn’t… suffer too much, did he?”

The resounding wave of clicks flooded her mind. “It was as peaceful as I could make it. I… he smiled at me, right before he died. I’d… very much like to think that means he was happy when he died.”

“What happened?” Ryoko’s voice came out rough, the first of it Sara had heard in weeks. “Joe told me, after our date, that he was going to walk you home, and then neither of you showed up at school the next day. And now… it’s been three weeks? And Joe… Joe’s dead? What the hell happened, Sara?”

“God,” Sara mumbled, mesmerizing herself with the twisting motions of her own hands. “I’m not sure if you’d even believe me if I told you. I don’t even know if I believe what happened myself.”

“I’d believe anything.” The sentence was firm. “I just want to know what happened.”

Sara nodded wearily. The familiar weight of her bright orange ponytail was notably missing- the day after she’d escaped, she’d demanded the hairdresser cut her hair short and crisp. She shuddered every time she thought about the ponytail brushing against her neck as she spent each argument screaming and protesting for her life. Even worse was the memory of how carefully Joe had styled her hair, forsaking his usual clumsiness to braid every strand with a remarkable tenderness. She didn’t want to remember any of it- even though, as the locks went cascading to the floor, she was reminded starkly of Keiji’s bleach-stained trauma response.

“For some reason, something to do with the mafia, we were kidnapped. And pulled into a death game. There were twenty of us, including me and Joe. I- I’m not going to get into all the specifics. It’s going to make me sick to my stomach if I do. But… they made us play this sadistic fucking game to narrow down the competition. Based on cards. Joe drew a bad card, and… they executed him.” Something in Sara’s throat tightened as she finished speaking, and she fell silent.

“Just like that?” His mother’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “How… how’d they kill him?”

“I’d rather not say.” There came the gushing sound of blood pulsing through the tubes. “He didn’t suffer too long” - she hoped - “but it was a gruesome way to die. I don’t want to think about it, please understand.”

It took a moment for his mother to register the words and nod, face still painted with horror.

“Why… how did the two of you even end up there in the first place?” Ryoko spoke up again. “You said something about the mafia? How the hell are you two connected with the mafia?”

“I don’t know how I am,” Sara responded immediately. “It must be something with my family. I couldn’t control any of this, I swear, but… Joe wasn’t meant to end up there at all.”

Ryoko paused. “He… he wasn’t meant to end up there?”

Sara swallowed back the lump in her throat. “The game… it was something that was being prepared for ages. There weren’t just a few ragtag kidnappers behind it, there was an entire organization. Even the police were involved. They ran AI tests, hundreds if not thousands of them, trying to calculate who’d be the most likely to win. And… when all the numbers came back, the person most likely to win… was me.”

She spread her arms wide, baring her sins and her cruelties to the world, and in that moment felt distinctly like the angel of death Keiji had branded her to be.

“They needed something to drag me down, I guess. Make the odds more balanced. So they dragged Joe into this fucking mess. I guess they thought that him being there would keep me steady enough to make everything fair.” A cold hand, dripping with tendrils of phantom blood, caressed her chin with a lethal grip. “...They were right.”

Ryoko’s gaze had gone cold again. “So Joe died just because you cared about him? What the fuck kind of death sentence is that?”

Sara shook her head numbly.

“Why did it have to be him?” The heartbreak in Ryoko’s voice was clearer than day. “So many people love you, Sara, why did it have to be him? Hell, I’m your best friend too, aren’t I? Why couldn’t it have been me? I’m a much worse person than Joe ever was, I deserved to be in his place way more. Couldn’t they have killed me instead?”

Sara winced at the growing desperation in her best friend’s voice, the raw crack she knew all too well. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me. Sara could have almost fooled herself into seeing a crisp aquamarine when Ryoko’s hair flashed into the light.

“Ryoko… it could have been.”

The girl fell silent.

“They had files on you too. They knew how close we were, they knew how much you meant to me… but Joe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And they fucking killed him for it.”

Oh, how she wished she could go back to that balmy early-autumn night, see the smile on Joe’s face and listen to his lighthearted laughter again. The desire to keep one’s friend safe had become a crime deserving of a death sentence.

Ryoko’s eyes remained locked to Sara’s, devoid of any dullness. In the look they exchanged was a deep, sinking understanding, one that had nauseated Sara to the core the first time the realization struck her.

It was by no crafty strategy that Joe had died instead of Ryoko, no favoritism biased against the kindest person either of them would ever know. It was a simple, terrible twist of fate. Ryoko could have taken his place had she done something as inconsequential as offering to walk Sara home instead.

But she hadn’t.

It took everything in Sara’s power to avoid wondering what would’ve changed if she had.

“How is any of this okay?” Ryoko broke the silence weakly. “They killed him- they could have killed me, too. He was seventeen. Seventeen. How did anybody let this happen? How did this happen, Sara?”

“I- I don’t know.” Ryoko’s wrath was simmering; even though Sara knew truly that she wasn’t the subject of the anger, she still felt scalded. “I miss him so much, Ryoko. I watched him die, and nothing in my power let me save him. I miss him, Ryoko, I miss him every waking minute of every day. We were supposed to escape together and get out safe and pretend this never happened, but…” the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of anyone, especially not over him.

“I’m going to go make some coffee,” his mother interrupted suddenly. She’d been noticeably quiet, but the still-fresh streaks of tears painted down her cheeks told the story she didn’t need to vocalize. “Some coffee, and some snacks. And we’ll keep talking from there, alright? Do you guys have your phones?”

The two girls nodded uneasily.

“Please… find any pictures you have of him. I want to make this wall as bright as possible.”

Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, and it fell to silence once more. Outside the window, the cool autumn breeze began to stir the leaves in the air, gusting forward to brush against Sara’s cheek just as the hallucination had done mere minutes ago.

And the Tazuna household began to feel more like home again.

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius was already battling with their post break-up situation. He hasn’t moved on, but maybe Remus has, after the Incident with Snape. He has been forgiven by all of the Marauders, but he still doesn’t feel like going to the Yule Ball because he loves dancing a little too much, and to watch Remus dancing with someone who isn’t him is something he won’t be able to cope. He rather he will stay in than go and deal with another heartbreak. However, Remus encourages him to go to the Yule Ball. Is he giving Sirius a chance to improve their ties?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues. 

Chapter 1

The distress was like a cold molten lava, spreading in Sirius’ chest to deepen the void that was already created inside of him. He could feel it. The hollowness around his heart, but simultaneously there was something heavy. Like a boulder, sitting at the top of his chest. There was exhaustion in his veins, plummeting his blood pressure that made him unlike the person he used to be: steady, hyperactive, and energetic. He didn’t know what he wanted, so he let life go through him. He thought he may never live, might as well survive because he was not ready to die yet. There was still hope. A newly aroused hope of getting his friends back in his life after the two and a half month of shutting out in consequential to the Incident with Severus Snape.

Three days ago, James and Peter had asked Sirius to come in the dorm when he had been sitting in the common room, literally, doing nothing but staring at the fire grates before him. All of the Marauders, including Remus, had gathered in the dorm awkwardly.

“Look, Sirius,” James had been the one to break the silence, and Sirius’ perplexity, “Whatever we have with you is just too real and close that—we cannot just see you being so…”

“Different.” Peter had said.

“Yes, different!” Sirius had never seen James so nervous, “And we know how sorry you are for what you did.” Sirius could distinctly recall that he had flinched at those words.

“So…” Remus had begun, not meeting Sirius’ eyes, “We would like to give you a chance.”

Sirius had expected himself to smile or laugh in happiness that finally his friends had decided to forgive him, but he didn’t—more like, he couldn’t. James and Peter had been staring at him with funny looks on their faces, while Remus had a tired look as if he had been forcefully asked to forgive him. Sirius didn’t even internally blame him for that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this all means to me.” Sirius had said. He knew that time was the only key to slip into normalcy, so he went with the flow.

This time of the year, Hogwarts was illuminating with more candles, and stardust in every corridor. The lavatory sections had more irises and lilies, and the Library was filled with color-changing lanterns hanging in the mid-air. All of this was because of the Triwizard Tournament was being held, and the awaited guests from other wizarding schools were welcomed to avail the chance of becoming the lucky participant in the Tournament. The students from Drumstrang, and Beauxbatons were roaming around the decorated Hogwarts.

“They should see the real face of Hogwarts, dull and old-fashioned. Not the flowery one. That’s called deception.” Marlene commented, making everyone snigger around her. She never failed to catch attention.

“That’s called hospitality, Marls. Try to be positive.” Dorcas flung her arm around her to pull her closer so she kissed her cheek. Sirius tried not to look because it painfully reminded him of his rock solid relationship with Remus Lupin, before it crashed brutally after one reckless mistake. He rubbed his eyes because he felt tried. Again. He was tired all the time, but he didn’t like being in bed in odd hours. It made him feel useless.

“So, that means I get to take you as my date for the Yule Ball?” Sirius’ ears stood alerted at Marlene’s muffled voice in the crowd.

Of course, the Yule Ball. He loved going to the balls, and waltzing with the music. If there was anything the Black family had taught and he had loved, were the dancing lessons. He had always imagined holding a certain someone close to him, and waltz with them peacefully. This was his secret. He had never displayed it. After he had realized that he had a crush on Remus, he had always pictured him in his dreams, slowly swaying through the soft music. His hand holding Remus’ while his other one on his waist, leading him. He had never enjoyed dancing with girls. They were too small and delicate to hold, except Marlene who was tall and broad.

The night befell, and everyone filed to their dormitories from the Great Hall after the dinner. Sirius was quietly walking with the Marauders, highly tensed because he was in pace with Remus who hadn’t utter a single word to him since the forgiveness. James was loudly speaking as usual, his arm around Peter’s shoulder, while craning his neck in every angle to find a certain fiery red head in the flood of students.

“Evans! You and me to the Yule Ball, how does that sounds?” He called out once he had spotted her.

“Nauseating.” She replied, causing an eruption of laughter from the sea of student around them.

“Oh come on! You won’t regret!” He continued his show of stupidity but suddenly Sirius’ hand brushed the neighboring one, accidently. He and Remus responded at the same time by flinching away their hands.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Remus was scarlet in the face, and Sirius felt liked he had touched something electric. He could still feel the burning on his fingers. They walked in their respectful distance, and Sirius started to feel the same process of hollowness in his chest. He was sad. Very sad. They were never supposed to be like this. He missed Remus, but it all seemed like he had lost him forever. Remus had forgiven him, but not by his heart. And it was nothing but heart-breaking. Sirius felt a strong surge of emotion as if he was going to have breakdown in the middle of the staircase. He held the railing of the stairs, widening the distance between him and Remus. Sirius stopped there to breathe out, hoping his friends wouldn’t notice. However, his friends were nor heedless neither heartless. Specifically, Remus wasn’t.

“Sirius? Are you okay?” Remus retreated from the crowd to stand beside him. Sirius felt heated up, and not because he had any rage reserved in the corners of his heart or mind.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He tried to act nonchalant, “You go ahead. I just need a break from the walking.”

“No, it is okay, I’ll stay with you until you are good to go.” Remus’ voice was very soft, and Sirius wished that he never leave him, even as a friend. Remus was too precious to lose. Sirius stayed silent. He kept breathing in and out, until his heartbeat became normal. Suddenly, he realized that the staircase was changing with a thud, signifying that all of the students were vanished and gone to their dorms, leaving Remus and Sirius alone.

“How are you feeling?” Remus’ wide amber eyes looked into the dull grey ones, probably for the first time in a longest while. Sirius smiled at the question. How was he feeling? He was feeling sad, useless, pathetic, sick, disappointed, and hopeless and so much that wasn’t easy to name or comprehend.

“I’m feeling better now.” He answered instead.

“Well, looks like it going to be a long detour since the staircase is leading to the third floor. Four floors away.” Remus’ mouth quirked up in an uneasy smile. Sirius smiled back at him as they both began to climb the stairs.

There was silence hanging between them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable to Sirius because he had nothing to say which made his mind a little less chaotic. He had tried saying everything to Remus; the fact how much he regretted his mistake, how much sorry he felt, how much he valued his relationship with Remus, how much unconditionally he was in love with him. All explanations had gone into vain. He decided he had nothing to say.

“Here,” Sirius looked to his side to see that Remus was offering him a goblet of water.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Just water. You need it.” Sirius wanted to slap himself. Of course, he knew it was water, then why asked?

“Thanks.” He took the goblet from his hand. His finger brushed with his that sent tingling feelings to his body.

“So, what are you planning for day after tomorrow?” Remus asked sheepishly, smiling half-heartedly, trying to make a conversation.

“What is on day after tomorrow?”

There is sudden pause, and Sirius had to look at Remus who seemed slightly taken aback.

“I thought you knew,” He mumbled under his breath, “I meant—the Ball. The Yule Ball. Are you going?”

An ugly feeling suddenly jabbed him in the stomach.

“Oh—that. I forgot, to be honest.”

Remus chuckled awkwardly.

“But—umm…” Sirius hesitated, “No, I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Oh.” Remus became silent then.

They were now on the fifth floor corridor, chasing the giant staircase to lead them to the seventh floor.

“Any particular reason?” Remus piped up, and Sirius felt his lung was lacking air.

“I don’t like dancing.” He lied. And SHIT! He lied to the wrong person. Remus stared at him for a little longer as if he was scanning him.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus said than asked.

“I don’t like dancing.” Sirius repeated, hoping that saying it again and again would become a truth.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus repeated too, under his breath but Sirius had heard him. He knew that Remus had spotted the lie, and now Sirius Black was surely labelled as a liar.

“What about you?” Sirius asked to erase the discomfort in the air. They were still chasing the staircase.

“Yeah, I think I will.” Remus replied. Sirius nodded, repressing his sad loneliness, but Remus continued, “I think you should go too. The ball is just not about dancing. You don’t have to dance, just have some fun.”

Sirius smiled at him because Remus’ voice is cheerful and encouraging. Maybe he could go. Maybe this was the chance to heal things in their relationship. Maybe Remus was giving him.

He kept thinking, quietly until they were on the seventh floor. The portrait of Gryffindor Tower was before them.

“Just think about it, you know,” Remus said gently, “Banana Fritters.”

The portrait door opened, and the common room was empty. They climbed to the dormitory when Remus slowed his pace to stop before the door.

“After everything, all of us deserve some fun,” Remus spoke tenderly again, his eyes softening and a hint of smile on his lips. Sirius returned the smile, but it was painful. He couldn’t get a word out of him. They stood there facing each other before Remus came close, and gathered him in his embrace.

Sirius felt like he became numb, all of a sudden. He was there, under Remus’ arms. Wide-eyed, his body paralyzed, and his blood racing abnormally. Trying to process how, where, why and what just happened.

Suddenly, hot tears obscured his vision before they began streaming endlessly. Sirius didn’t remember if he brought his hands up to hug him back but he was able to feel Remus tightening his embrace. He sobbed into his shoulder, and Remus let him. That was enough. It had never felt so comforting.

Chapter 2

[rin-00]

The Argument - Kieu My x Fatou

How the hell did they get to this point? In the past couple of days Fatou and her have been out of sync. First, their schedules haven’t matched up so they couldn’t see each other as often as they needed to. Then, when they did see each other it seemed like the skater girl was withholding information from her. Kieu My could practically reach out and feel the invincible walls the other girl has put up around her. Walls that she thought didn’t apply to her since she was her girlfriend after all. Every “How are you’s” are either met with a shrug, a vague answer, or a lie. She thought they were past this but apparently not.

They have been lying down on Kieu My’s bed for the past hour, watching a documentary on Netflix about sea life. If anyone were to walk in the room right now they would probably assume they were two awkward friends instead of a couple that has been together for almost a year because of the literal physical distance between them. Usually when they watch movies together, or are even in the same room together, they always have to be in each other’s orbit. Even if it was just pinkies touching. There was never more than just a thumb’s sized distance between the two. But right now? Right now there is about a foot of space between her and Fatou. A foot that manages to feel like a mile. The other girl is staring blankly at the laptop screen and Kieu My can tell that her mind is somewhere else because she herself has been staring at Fatou’s side profile for about 20 minutes now and she has yet to notice. If this was a regular day, Fatou would have turned to her with a warm smile and a slight blush painting her cheeks and teased Kieu My about how she couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. Instead there’s no smile on the girl’s face. All Kieu My sees are furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw. She wants to ask what’s wrong. In fact she has been asking for the past couple of days but she sensed a slight irritation from Fatou the last time she asked and she didn’t want to push. But she’s worried that if she doesn’t push then the distance between them will grow bigger and bigger.

Reaching over, Kieu My paused the film and turned her whole body she would be facing the other girl, “We need to talk.”

She hears Fatou let out an irritated huff, “I know what you’re going to ask, Kieu My. And I promise you I’m fine.”

She had a feeling this was going to be a long night. In fact she was wondering when this moment would come. Her and Fatou have been in a relationship for a while now and they had yet to argue (aside from the time outside her apartment complex) and she knew it would come around eventually. Every couple argues. She read somewhere that it’s part of maintaining a healthy relationship and with her and Fatou having so many differences in how they deal with conflict, she knew that the moment would definitely come. But that doesn’t mean she’s looking forward to it.

“Ok. I’ll believe your lie for now and accept that you’re fine. But something is obviously bothering you. So, what is it?”

Fatou scratches the side of her head and scrunches her nose. How cute. No, wait, Kieu My thought, now is not that the time for her to find Fatou adorable. She needs to put her foot down and tell Fatou that keeping her out of the loop isn’t okay. She’ll tell her she looks adorable once they’ve made up because she has a feeling argument might bubble over to a fight. She also has her own thoughts and feelings she has repressed and pushed aside in order to make Fatou feel comfortable. The insecure nights spent awake wondering if she was the reason the other girl has been so distant. The angry rants to Zoe about how she deserves transparency. The gut wrenching feeling that came with the thought that maybe Fatou was going to end everything.

“Kieu My, please, I really don’t want to talk about it. Okay?” Fatou stands up and walks over to the other side of the room to pace back and forth. Her fingers nervously wringing together.

What felt like a mile of distance now feels like a whole block and Kieu My has to swallow the lump in her throat before speaking, “No. not okay. You have been so distant the past week and I gave you your space. I asked and when you shut me off I didn’t push because I wanted you to come to me. I wanted you to have the space you needed. But, it seems like you’re not making any effort to open up.”

“Maybe I don’t want to open up. Maybe this is something I can figure out myself.”

“Well,” Kieu My said while walking over to the opposite side of the room. The distance between them now expanding as well as her voice level rising. “maybe I can help. I want to help you, Fatou.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

A simple sentence but it managed to open up everything inside Kieu My, “I know you didn’t ask for my help! You didn’t ask for anything! You’ve just been pouting and getting pissed off and going back to being sad for the past couple of days! At the very least, you should be able to trust me enough to be transparent with me.”

“This is something I can handle on my own! I don’t need you to try and babysit me. I can handle being sad for a couple of days.”

“I’m not trying to babysit you, I want to help you. I can help fix whatever the problem is!”

“I don’t need you to fix anything! Why can’t you just be there next to me and let me feel what I need to feel. Sometimes people just need to feel down without a need for some type of solution!”

“What, so you’re planning on just ignoring what is very obviously bothering you until it washes away? You know that’s now how the world works.”

“I don’t need you to lecture me on how the world works, Kieu My. I don’t want you to fix anything. I don’t need you to know everything! I just need you to be next to me while I figure it out the way I need to figure it out!”

“Well, it sounds like you’re asking me to just sit aside and do nothing. If that’s the case, then fine. But at the very least I need you to be honest with me about what’s going on! Are you having second thoughts about us or something?”

“What?”

“Are you having second thoughts? Are you planning on breaking up with me? Because that’s what it feels like right now.”

“No...I’m...no..”

“Then whats the fucking problem? I’m your girlfriend! I deserve more than just shrugged shoulders and a snappy response when I ask you about your life.”

“It’s not a big deal...”

“Then tell me,” thanks to Kieu My’s long legs she only needed to take 5 steps before she’s right in front of the other girl. “Please.”

Fatou’s shoulders drop and with it the walls she had up, “I have to repeat the year.”

Kneeling down so the taller girl can look at her girlfriend in the eyes, Kieu My takes Fatou’s hands in hers and tightens her hold at the sight of the skater girl’s teary face, “What do you mean?”

“I tried everything. I took tutoring lessons, I went to therapy, I did the math exercises, I even spent extra hours after school doing extra credit but it still wasn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, I’m so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. This isn’t something you can fix, Kieu My. I fucked up. A Kieu My style studying session isn’t going to fix this.”

Opening up her arms, Kieu My takes hold of Fatou and immediately felt drops of tears hit her shoulder, “You didn’t fuck up. You did your best and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sorry I was so distant,” Fatou presses a gentle kiss against Kieu My’s shoulder, “it’s just that when they told me that I have to repeat a year it’s like everything I did was for nothing. I started going back to bad habits like shutting you out. I shouldn’t have done that. I never want you to feel like I’m leaving because that’s one of the things I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about me leaving?”

“I’m worried that when you’re off to college and I have to repeat a year that you will find someone better. Someone who doesn’t test your patience or is smarter.”

“Fatou..”, now sitting on the floor with Fatou in her lap, Kieu My took a moment to observe the girl. Find someone better? Than Fatou? Is that even possible? Kieu My has never been good with words. It was always Fatou who had the emotional intelligence in the relationship. She was the one who would leave notes with heartfelt words before leaving her house. She was the one who would randomly tell Kieu My why she loves her out of nowhere even in the middle of class. She was the one who knew what to say whenever she would have a fight with her parents. Hell, she was the one who managed to calm down Constantine and get through his thick head. Who else can do that? Not Kieu My. But she sure wishes she could, especially right at this moment. She wishes she can be as articulate as Fatou. She wishes she can find a way to say how much she means to her. How much it means to her whenever Fatou would just take a glance at her and immediately know what’s wrong and what would make her feel better. How much it means to her when Fatou would ask her about space or even something as mundane as her day working at the shop. How Fatou’s smile makes her heart stop. How Fatou’s voice makes life seem less chaotic. How she disliked the world a little less because they gave her the love of her life. But she can’t. So instead she tightens her hold on the smaller girl and kisses the top of her head.

“There’s nobody like you. What do you need from me, baby? What can I do to help you feel better?”

“I just need you to hold me right now.”

“Of course.”

A few moments of silence later Kieu My feels Fatou sit up right in order to look at her face to face, “I do trust you, you know. I trust you with all my heart. But, sometimes I feel like the only thing I do is lean on you. I can’t help but feel like I’m more than a burden than your girlfriend.”

“You’re not a burden. I want you to lean on me. I need you to. I need to feel you against me. I like knowing that you know I’m here for you the same way I know you’re there for me. I want you to feel loved, baby. Helping you is how I let you know that.”

“But, what if one day it’s too much? What if one day I end up messing everything up?”

“Fatou, I can never get enough of you. Like right now, you’re pressed up against me and you’re still not close enough.”

“I’m trying really hard to be the best I can be for you. And right now I feel like a failure.”

Kieu My sighs as her heart breaks at the other girl’s words. She leans forward to kiss Fatou on the lips before brushing away the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re amazing just the way you are right now.”

Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments as well as some fanfic ideas. ✨✨ this is very rough cuz I wrote it while waiting for my dog to poop.

[troddensodden]

what i immediately think of you based on your favorite fallout 4 companion:

or maybe a better title would have been what i think based on the companion you relate to the most? im not sure that just doesnt have a good ring to it

anyway

- cait: you come across as a violent, or generally brash person, but are good at heart. your violence or harsh tendencies likely have a reason behind them. you probably had something in your past where people who you trusted ended up betraying you, or someone you idolized turned out to be someone completely different. and this had an impact on you, causing you to protect yourself in the easiest way you know—pushing people away. because if you don't have anyone important to you, then you can't go through the same thing again. (or you just like her accent. valid.) just remember, even if some people have hurt you, not everyone will. there are people who care. just let them in. don't be afraid to be vulnerable, that shows that you're truly strong.

- codsworth: you're a pretty sentimental person and struggle to leave the past behind. which, while sweet, may get in your way sometimes. but generally you are a nice person. you like to help people out, but the main source of pleasure you gain from that is the satisfaction of knowing you helped someone, rather than the happiness of just knowing that person was helped. your sentimentality likely originates from some sort of loss, whether big or small. remember, you have people in your corner. you can rely on them.

- curie: either you're into science or philosophy, or you like accents. but most likely you're a pretty sweet person. you like to help people, but it probably ends up being self-sacrificial quite often even if you don't realize it. take care of yourself!! you're important too, the satisfaction of helping other people wont be enough to help you in the long run, and you need to acknowledge that. you probably help people and use that as a scapegoat for someone you weren't able to help well enough, whether that person is you or someone else, and end up overlooking your own needs. prioritize yourself first, allow yourself to be the most important person in your life.

- paladin danse: either you like the military, or you only played the brotherhood storyline so you could have him. also, you probably have some deep-rooted insecurity based in everyone seeing you as different and judging you for it, but you don't do anything to counter it and end up avoiding people as a whole because of it. you may think of other people as too much effort, or too confusing, or generally just not worth it when there are more important things to be done. you look up to those stronger than you, and look down on those weaker than you, and use that to shape yourself. you end up leaving the real you behind, so that maybe other people will think you're just as strong as the people you admire. but you don't have to be strong all the time. its okay.

- deacon: you're secretive. not because you necessarily have anything to hide, but to protect yourself. you may have opened up to someone in the past and then lost them, or been betrayed, and now find it difficult to be honest about yourself. opening up about yourself to anyone is a sign of great trust, and something that doesn't happen often, so you have a hard time doing it at all, but especially after being hurt because of it. you keep your heart close to your chest, and hide it behind humor and lies, because at least you don't have to be honest when you're cracking jokes. a lot of these jokes are probably pretty self-deprecating, a way of venting your struggle without having to truly bare yourself to anybody. but you don't have to lie to keep people around. people will love you just as much if you're true to yourself.

- dogmeat: you're a bit of a lone wolf. whether it's for a serious reason or just a dislike for people, you find it much simpler to be by yourself. you may have trouble trusting people, or even just issues working with people because of conflict. but as much as it may seem easier to just avoid people as a whole, you cant do that forever. if you let people in, and you trust them, they'll trust you too. it will help you out in the long run. (or hey! maybe you just like dogs. thats valid.)

- hancock: you're a very accepting person. you let people open up to you, make yourself a safe space for anyone who might need it. but you don't open yourself up to others, out of fear that maybe they'll see your flaws and leave you. as accepting as you are, you struggle to accept parts of yourself, and assume others wont be able to either. you struggle to think you're good enough, and so instead you make yourself a blank slate in a way, for people to interpret however they want. you disregard yourself, your personality, your past, and try to start anew without actually resolving any of your history. which may work fine for a while, but eventually it will stack up. it never left, you just tucked it away. you need to confront your past before working on the future. accept yourself and others will too.

- maccready: you're also quite a sentimental person, but in another way. you can't leave the past behind, because it changed you. you want things to go back to the way they were, so you can maybe change the way things went, change the things you did, but you can't. furthermore, you find the world immensely unfair, and it is. and as much as you may wish things were different, they arent, and theres nothing you can do now to fix it. whether you want to forget or not, the memories stick with you, and continuously remind you what you "could have done," even if you couldn't truly have changed the outcome. forgive yourself. its okay to remember, but it's not okay to dwell on the past and keep hurting yourself over it. the past happened, but the future is still being built. live your life.

- nick valentine: you're a very giving person, and enjoy helping people. however, you can hold a grudge. whether you or someone important to you was wronged, you won't forget about it until it has been resolved. depending on the severity, a well-done apology can satiate you, but if they did something serious, you won't rest until they get what you think they deserve. not necessarily in a violent sense, but in a general manner. you recognize that the world is corrupt and unfair, and see it as your role to try to bring about some fairness in the world, but sometimes end up stretching yourself too thin. be careful. it's good to care so much about others, but be sure to care for yourself too.

- piper: you likely had to grow up too fast, because of something that happened in your past. because of that, you struggle to truly let loose. you refuse to rely on other people and insist on being self-sufficient, but you also insist on trying to take care of others too, which builds up a lot of stress that you never really learned how to relieve. so instead of taking care of your stress, you absorb yourself in work. additionally, you're very headstrong, and while being persistent is a good thing, it comes back to bite you once in a while. so make sure to be cautious. you need to protect yourself, but you don't need to always be on guard. relax, let loose. you're still young and have life ahead of you.

- preston: you've been at the lowest point in your life and back up again. this low point, though, changed you. the way you thought, the way you acted, the way you cared for people. it changed you, positively and negatively. you've seen and experienced a lot of struggle, and that made you stronger, but it also made you afraid. not afraid of getting hurt, but afraid of not being able to protect those you care about from the strife that you've seen cause the downfall of so many people. you see it as your role to protect people, as something that brings you purpose. you've probably felt that way for a long time though. someone you admired may have gotten hurt and you weren't able to protect them, and you try to make up for it by protecting everyone else. but it's not your responsibility to protect everyone. it's not your fault if you can't. protect yourself first, and find self-worth outside of your work. focus out the present, and everything else will fall into place. its okay to take a break.

- strong: you prioritize yourself over others, to the point where you may end up disregarding other peoples thoughts or feelings because you think yours are more "important." because of this, you are generally a bit judgmental and only think something is worthwhile if it will benefit you. this may originate from some sort of neglect or similar treatment in the past, where you were forces to be self-sufficient. but it is important to be able to prioritize yourself while still being kind to other people. you look down on people who you think are weak, because you were forced to be strong enough to protect yourself. but you should allow yourself to listen to other people, because they'll care about you if you care too. relationships are valuable and important, even if you have only a few of them. be more open to other people, it won't hurt you.

- x6-88: similarly, you may feel a sense of superiority over some people. however, this is likely because you were frequently admired and praised for not showing vulnerability, whether in a physical or emotional sense. you may tend to repress your emotions, out of convenience or fear of having them used against you, which ends up affecting you negatively in the long run for a variety of reasons. for one, emotions will build up, causing stress and general struggle. but also, refusing to open up can harm interpersonal relationships, causing issues with trust, honesty, and more. you may feel relationships aren't worth it, but having people in your corner in a way that's mutually beneficial is very important. vulnerability is a sign of strength, but you were likely taught the opposite, and it's hard to shake something so deeply ingrained. it's a process, but it's worth it. allow yourself to be vulnerable, allow yourself to be protected. you won't disappoint people, it's alright.

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

It’s that time again!

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2019 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out! 

25.) Foolishy Laying Our Hearts on the Table by @runaway-train-works (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

24.) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers (126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

23.) all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie (310k)

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

--

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

22.) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2 (25k)

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

21.) You Have to Retreat to Advance by @2tiedships2 (18k)

“What am I going to do, Perrie? I can’t go on this retreat by myself. My boss literally said he wants to meet my omega.” Harry paused. “Okay, not literally but he definitely expects me to be bringing him.”

“Don’t people go on these things by themselves?” Perrie asked.

Harry shrugged. “Of course but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“My boss is expecting to meet my omega! I don’t have an omega!”

“Is this a paying gig?” Perrie asked.

“You mean paying an omega to spend the weekend with me? I’m sure the resort has nice amenities. Does that count?”

“I take that as a no,” Perrie said with an eye roll. “It’s okay, Louis might be willing to do it for free.”

“Who’s Louis?”

Or the one where Harry is expected to bring his longterm omega to the company's mountain retreat. Since he hadn't told anyone that they'd broken up months ago, he now has to find someone willing to play the part.

20.) A Darker Shade of Love by LittleSpoonStyles94 (750k)

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

19.) You Still Make Sense to Me by @amories (37k)

Harry, Louis, and their family navigate life together through the years.

18.) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon (119k)

“I’m sorry your highness, I think I misheard you, did you really say that you are hoping to meet your husband?” Oh god, Louis panicked. Was Prince Harry gay? Was he even allowed to be gay? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed to have a selection from a group of men, right?

Prince Harry looked partly like he wanted to laugh, but also very, very nervous about what he had just admitted, “Yes, sir, you heard correctly”

Or Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

17.) waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds (59k)

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

16.) Call Answered by @vondrostes (249k)

The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

15.) Counterbalance by @louandhazaf (44k)

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

14.) Everywhere and Nowhere by @2tiedships2 (16k)

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

13.) Swallow The Knife by whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

12.) and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in woe by ihavetoomuchfreetime (70k)

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

11.) thinking about the t-shirt you slept in by @absoloutenonsense (52k)

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

10.) Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

9.) Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo (76k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

*

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

8.) Pain makes people change by Deidei (113k)

An organization called Canis Lupus existed solely for changing humans imprisoned in their wolf form back to their human form. Some people after experiencing some traumatic event can only ‘’protect’’ themselves from the pain by forgetting everything. To do that, to feel safe, they shift into their wolf form.

Which they'll be stuck in forever should no one intervene.

Louis Tomlison went through a traumatic experience at the age of twelve in which he lost his mother, to make the pain go away he shifted into a wolf and fled. He survived in the wild as a wolf for five years until Canis Lupis caught him... Though he wasn't alone, he had a pup at his side.

7.) Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (113k)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

6.) Enemies with benefits by ssii8 (267k)

Where Harry is captain of basketball team and Louis is captain of football team and they hate each other. But somehow this doesn't stop them from having sex.

And everything is perfect until they start to feel something more.

5.) Ready To Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

4.) Close to Nowhere by @angelichl (34k)

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

3.) Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl (40k)

They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

2.) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

1.) All My Colours by IceQueenRia (267k)

Green… yellow… red. Red! RED!!!

Some people were born Dominant and others submissive. Sixteen year old Louis Tomlinson was a submissive and was proud to be so… until he was forced to his knees for the first time. The man before him was every subs nightmare, an abusive Dom, the kind who didn’t believe in the colour ‘red’ unless it was in the form of blood.

There were others, but Louis was the ‘favourite’ and he was the one the Dom liked to ‘play with’ the most. In fact, when the rescue team arrived, Louis was the one currently providing ‘service’ to the Dom.

Or

Louis, Zayn and Niall are abused subs. Liam Payne is their devoted new Guidance Counsellor who just wants to make Niall smile and hear Zayn speak. As for Louis, he knows his guidance won’t be enough to help the boy heal. No, Louis Tomlinson needs something very special and very specific. He needs Harry Styles.

[magpiemorality]

Moceit pt 2, A Kiss With A Twist

This is the sequel to THIS oneshot that was written for @croftersgamer, make sure to read that first! Since the end of that first part Patton has indulged in a spot of deception on a semi-regular basis, as I wrote in the replies on the first part. It begins small but spirals quickly... 

First | AO3

***

“Morality, I ca-” Deceit is frazzled and dishevelled when he pops up in Patton’s room, but he barely gets a word out before the side in question pulls him in by his cape and kisses him enthusiastically. When they surface for air, Deceit is panting softly and Patton is grinning like the cat who got the cream, eyes glinting with an a fervent intensity. He may or may not be obsessed, or at the very least addicted. Deceit is only slightly concerned. 

“You’re late, I told Logan that lie almost two minutes ago,” Patton pouts, stroking the wrinkles out where he’d gripped the black fabric. Deceit pushes away from him to pace, eyes wild. 

“Look, we can’t keep doing this! I’m- I have other things to do than show up wherever you want for a snog, Morality! I can’t just be at your beck and call night and day- the other day I had to cut short a very important discussion with Thomas about changing his performers CV and now-” He groans, taking his hat and gloves off to run his hands through his wavy hair and collapse into Patton’s comfortable armchair out of sheer exhaustion. “You’re insatiable. I regret ever giving you this power, I swear to Thomas.” 

Patton slips off the bed with a gentle smile, settling over Deceit’s lap and cupping his face. “Now who’s the liar?” He murmurs, bending to steal yet another kiss, and their total has to be somewhere in the hundreds by now, maybe even past the thousand mark. 

Annoyingly he’s right. Deceit only came up with the kissing idea to push Patton’s buttons in the first place and it had spectacularly backfired and also worked out wonderfully for them both. Unfortunately, there were a few other issues that had arisen as a consequence. 

“Wait, I was definitely trying to make a point, stop distracting me,” Deceit grumbles, his hands falling to Patton’s waist to support his weight. “Something about- oh right about the lying.” 

“What about it?” Patton asks, playing with the clasps of Deceit’s cape. 

It’s very distracting, like everything about Patton. But Deceit soldiers on gamely. “Something’s changed. You’re- you’re summoning me even when you haven’t lied. I can’t leave you when we’re done. I don’t think it’s just the silly little lies you’re telling by keeping us- this- a secret that’s drawing me in anymore.” 

Patton stills and blinks at him. They blink at each other. And then Patton snorts and has to cover his hand to stifle his laughter. Deceit is very confused. 

Luckily Patton takes pity on him and kisses the tip of his grumpily wrinkled nose. “Oh dear, you’re making it sound like a love story. But this is... I’m having a lot of fun and I can stop if you like, but that’s all!” 

Ah, and there goes that same feeling again. Pinging around his chest and head. Deceit sits up sharply, catching Patton just before he can topple over backwards, and their chests are suddenly pressed close together and he can see every faint freckle on Patton’s cheeks. “I felt it. When you said that. It wasn’t a lie, well it was but it was more than that- you’re lying to yourself.” 

The panic sets in in Patton’s eyes, and he stumbles up onto his feet and back away from the other side, creating some distance. “Now that’s definitely not true.” 

“But it is! You’re repressing, Morality, you’re telling yourself-” Deceit stares at him as things click together in his mind, forming a very odd but appealing picture. “You like me. You actually like me!” 

“No! You’re a dark side, you’re bad and not good for Thomas and-”

“And you don’t really believe that anymore. And you like me and it’s confusing you and, oh Patton, did you even realise you were making me hide that from you every time you brought me here? That’s...” 

Patton is close to tears. “It’s not true it’s not!” He pleads, but when Deceit opens his arms he stumbles in without a single moment of hesitation, trembling against his chest. “Everything is so different now,” Patton whimpers, soaking up the warm scent of Truth woven into Deceit’s clothes and skin. “I don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore. It used to be so clear.”

“That’s... a problem for a different time, I think. But you should know that it’s not been so easy for any of us, either.” He holds Patton gently, feeling him curl to the shape of his own body. “But this that we’re doing, if you’re doing it to hide the truth from yourself? That’s not right no matter how you see things. I guess I’m to blame too, huh, for enabling you this whole time?” 

Patton makes a soft, wounded noise, but doesn’t disagree and it makes Deceit’s heart sink. “Gosh. Guess I’m losing my touch if I was so easily distracted by kisses. By your kisses...” He has to let go and leaves Patton in the centre of the bedroom while he retreats back to the chair, picking up his hat to turn round and round in his hands. “Um, so, I think it’s best we have a bit of a break.”

The resulting wave of emotion is followed so swiftly by the overpowering stink of repression that Deceit sways in the chair. Patton’s expression is murderous and then carefully neutral in the space of a heartbeat, but by the wary pinch around his eyes it’s clear he knows he’s been caught. And dammit but Deceit is getting pissed off now. Patton was supposed to be the honest one out of the two of them, and he was supposed to keep things simple, but of course where Patton and emotions are concerned things are anything but simple for long. 

He stands to leave. It’s time. 

“It’s been wonderful, truly wonderful, but I’ll go now. I’m sorry it has to end like this but I’m just not going to do your dirty work anymore!” The hat and gloves go back on and that same feeling of needing to stay don’t leave him stay stay stay comes back full force as he gets to the door. When he glances back Patton is already across the room and pushing him back against the wood to kiss him, full of emotions that are finally, gloriously shared, instead of discarded. Deceit can literally taste the difference. 

They stand there and kiss for what feels like an age, fiercely blazing fire cooling to a soft, gentle glow of embers. 

“Wow,” Deceit whispers, making Patton giggle quietly, a beautiful musical sound that he wants to capture and keep in a jar to cherish forever. “So that was... honest kissing. Who knew it was so much better?” They share a smile, before Patton’s turns apologetic. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it to myself. I was just so scared by all the changes and at least I could control this and kinda... experiment with not being so good, for a change. And it was kinda sucky, really.

“I do like you. You’re the most surprising thing in my life and I mean that in such a good way. You work hard, and you’re caring and loyal and you’re pretty darn good too, you know.

“That’s not a bribe to get you to forgive me, I swear! But, I like you. I would really like to kiss you without an excuse, sometime. Maybe even when other people can see, in fact. What do you say?” With an achingly hopeful smile, Patton gazes at Deceit. 

Deceit just smiles back. “Honestly, that sounds great.” 

Patton appreciates the pun. He proceeds to show Deceit exactly how much. 

(It only gets better from there)

They do have one other little scare when Deceit finally goes to leave, only to find that the same powerful impulse to stay is still going strong, but calamity is avoided when Patton suggests that maybe, just maybe, some of it is actually just Deceit’s own heart joining the party? 

He feels a little bit silly for not realising sooner, but Patton seems so pleased by the proof of Deceit’s equally strong feelings for him that well; maybe he doesn’t actually have to leave for a while longer. The urge in his chest certainly seems to agree...

--

Next

[vasoula]

The Peepshow (chapter three)

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and  Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time  together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a  special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

You can also read it on ffnet and Ao3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's notes: The grand finale of my three way saga ends here with a bang! Beware this chapter is hard M, lots of naughty things happening here ;) This monster is almost 10k on its own XD BTW this is the only chapter my friend strawberrycreampiefluff has not read, even though this is a collab between us and the story was her inspo, so this is a surprise for her also. I hope everybody enjoys this fic, comment your thoughts. Ah, I didn't know which way to end it because this is quite self indulgent and the main theme of the fic was teasing so the ending is similar. One day, maybe, I will write a continuation. Thank you everyone for your love and support!

“Act three: Jealousy will drive you mad”

With two powerful stomps and a determined expression on her face, Sakura reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

Sasuke does indeed greet her in the doorway. It is obvious from the casual attire he has put on that he was also about to go to bed; his toned physique is adorned with gray sweatpants and a light blue shirt.

The pink haired woman has no clue what riles her up the most. Is the way those simple clothes cling onto him like second skin emphasizing his fit body or is it the way he is staring her with those bewitching mismatched eyes of his? She cannot wait to find out.

"Sakura," he says in the usual lethargic timbre he uses to pronounce her name.

She blinks her eyes at him fast in response to make sure she is seeing right.

"What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun?", Sakura asks, "It's late."

She casually points out it is time for sleep and not time for late night conversations in her room the two of them alone, together. It does the trick because Sasuke seems to realize a few things about their current situation. His eyes lose focus and start their slow descend, carefully scrutinizing what she is wearing.

His gaze stops his inspection the moment it reaches her chest, zeroing on her breathing pattern and the way some parts of her body stand out thanks to the chilly weather. Sasuke's impassive face instantly changes, his cheeks and ears coloring in a nice red hue.

Then, without much thought, his observation continues and he bites his lip at the display of her bare legs so up close.

For the life of her, Sakura cannot fathom that Sasuke Uchiha is blatantly checking her out.

Feeling self conscious, she hugs herself and steps sideways to allow the man to come into the room. Her blush matches his in response.

Sasuke finally – finally moves from his position and steps into her territory.

Putting a few loose pink strands behind her ear, Sakura closes the door quietly and props her body on it, hands coming to rest between her backside and the wood.

She lets the silence hang on for a few minutes allowing Sasuke to take his time to make up his mind.

"I came here to apologize," he speaks after a while, "I am sorry."

Sasuke peers at her from his spot in the middle of room, shuffling his feet unconsciously.

He looks down, "I shouldn't have interfered with your mission," and spins around to face her bed instead. "It was brash and uncharacteristic of me."

His apology sounds genuine enough, but that still does not excuse the fact he acted out of the ordinary for no reason.

Sakura has had it with this man. Even though she feels beyond furious with him, the girl prefers not to argue with him.

"Apology accepted." She announces curtly. "Still doesn't explain the reason you decided to interfere, Sasuke."

The lack of honorific translates to failure in Sasuke's book of apologies. He tries to take another route. Although he came inside her room prepared and resolute to be honest with her, it seems his pride and ego are still in the way.

"Sakura, you know I am not good at this," He deflates in frustration, "I am not good -"

Sasuke pauses abruptly, not capable of continuing his next sentence. Why is it so hard for him to confess his feelings? How does Sakura do it? Why can he not be more like her when it comes to matters like these?

The lone Uchiha knows how he feels about her, his heart hammering in his chest is that much of a clue. Since he was a young boy- he has always known -what he felt towards her. There is a special connection, even the most logical part of his brain cannot grasp it enough to explain it. It should not make sense how strongly he feels about her without him even comprehending it when growing up.

It has been building up since the start, those emotions have been lying dormant for years, slowly but surely pestering inside his heart. His mind always conjuring up images of her lovely smiles and her healing words. Her confessions and trials towards him whispering hotly in his ears and driveling his mind mad into oblivion.

For such a foolish little game she was playing, her opinion is sure important and sufficient to have him questioning his moralities; her words festering inside his heart and poisoning his mind with good prospects in life like love and family. Who is he to deny her anything when at times he was ready to sacrifice everything he thrived for just to keep her safe? He can try but ignoring his feelings like he used to do in the past is no solution anymore.

Sasuke recalls everything about her until now and comes to one realization.

Sakura was, is and will always be precious to him.

"What?" The woman, plaguing his thoughts, asks defeated. She pushes herself off the wooden door and takes a big step forward.

Thinking what he can possibly do to make things better, he comes up with an idea.

Following along, Sasuke moves closer to her, leaning the right side of his body to a pillar next to him. He is right across her now.

"I am more of a man of action-", he starts trying to redeem himself with his compensatory qualities.

"Then do something -", she explodes, interrupting him mid sentence.

Sakura puts her foot down hard, literally stumping it to the ground. With her fists balled to her sides and a snarl on her face, she feels her patience running out.

The woman looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something – anything.

Sasuke's ears are roaring, his pulse skyrocketing. He is breathing hard now, his gaze penetrating as he surveys every aspect of Sakura's face. From her rosy cheeks, to her heated eyes and at last to her luscious, red lips.

She hears him before she sees him react. A hard punch to the pillar he has been leaning on signals he too has reached his limit.

With two fast strides, in speed only Sasuke is capable of, he pushes her against the door with his body. His right hand comes up and he tangles his fingers in her hair, cradling her upper half in urgency.

His stump meets her waist halfway in an attempt to hold her.

"I am losing my mind here, Sakura," He confesses unabashedly, looking at her straight in the eye.

The girl in question glances up at him, his sudden embrace unexpected, but welcome nevertheless. Both of her hands are at his torso, her clenched fists clasping his shirt tightly and crumpling it in the process. Thanks to the position of her grip, she feels his heart beating fast inside his chest – a sign that rings true to his earlier statement.

Searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort and finding none, she makes it easier for both of them and inches closer; her mouth a breath away from his lips.

Sasuke's eyes open and close languidly in response, her glittering irises and pampered freckles on her nose the last thing he sees before he leans in to kiss her.

Sakura spots stars behind her closed eyelids the moment their lips finally touch. It is nothing more than their mouths caressing each other in slow strokes, but the implications of that innocent kiss are more than enough for the two of them.

Feeling brave, the pink haired woman wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. Her heart is about to jump off her chest, aware of his hard yet lean body flash against her. They do not have any prior experience to this, but with their instincts leading them on, they are matching each other just right.

Sasuke feels something inside his head clicking into place, like a puzzle being completed; the repressed emotions inside of him exploding into a thousand pieces. The way he loves and displays it might be crooked, but when he has the woman he adores in his arms, he knows, he can conquer any emotional disadvantage he may encounter.

It seems everything that happens next plays out like it is in slow motion.

Grabbing her by the hip, Sasuke begins to move. Sakura arches into him, their kiss turning deeper. With the tall man leading them on, the couple turns around, mirroring their previous position, but with Sakura on top this time.

"Lift your legs," Sasuke quietly orders with his back against the door. Sakura obliges wordlessly and jumps slightly. Putting pressure on his shoulders, Sakura breaks their kiss for a split second and wraps her thighs around his waist, locking them tightly.

Sasuke's lone arm comes and finds its position snugly under her backside, palm open on her butt cheeks. Without so much a strain, years of physical exertion being put into work, Sasuke lifts her off the ground easily.

Sakura, still preoccupied with Sasuke's soft lips, does not realize their compromising position. Gently coursing her hands through his hair, she caresses his scalp while kissing him tenderly.

With his limbs busy and his vision limited, Sasuke takes a few cautious steps forward. With the bed as final destination, he carefully maneuvers them through the room. A few centimeters away, the mattress lies warm and inviting.

Their kiss stops abruptly when Sasuke's foot comes in contact with outpost of the bed. Lips breaking apart and breaths mingling, they stare silently into one another.

Realizing where the course of their situation is taking them, both of them pause.

Sakura searches his eyes and sees the lust mirrored in them similar to her own. With a determined expression, she grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him down with her the moment she lets herself fall back into the mattress.

Trying to stop his body from crushing her, Sasuke's arm goes forward and he places his hand next to her head. He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his face fall into the soft cushions of her breasts.

"Sakura," he mumbles incoherently. In response, the girl in question lets out a sigh of pleasure and relief.

She knows the implications and relishes in them. No dream or fantasy could counter that moment in her mind.

Sasuke hesitantly looks up, face heating up slowly. Then, feeling suddenly nervous, he glances sideways, a scowl forming.

Being on top of Sakura, her body body pliant underneath him and her lips bruised from their intense kissing had him feeling some type of way. But, god, her face is what made him look away. Nothing prepared him for this.

Sakura makes a sound in the back of her throat, her teeth biting hard her plump bottom lip. She bats her eyes at him, light pink eyelashes fanning against her rosy cheeks prettily. Sasuke pretends to ignore her, even though he keeps stealing glances at her.

Sakura cannot believe there would come a day where the great Sasuke Uchiha, the infamous avenger, would be shy with her.

Hot stares and naughty smirks are more his thing than awkward and fleeting looks.

Sasuke is nervous, no one taught him how to handle situations like these.

Love is a new, unknown part in his life, and he is quite unprepared.

Wordlessly, she lifts her hand and touches the right side of his face.

He looks gorgeous like this, all strong bone structure and pale white skin. His aristocratic nose scrunching up in distaste, because he dislikes the fact he has no control.

"What?" The Uchiha finally looks at her and asks. He purses his lips and drags his body forward a little bit.

Sasuke is snugly on top of her now, their chests pressed together closely.

Sakura starts caressing his cheek, staring lovingly into his eyes.

"I thought I couldn't love you more than I do," she takes a shuddering breath, her eyes watering slightly. "But, I do."

Sasuke takes the whispered confession in, his throat bobbing. He feels so emotional right now, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He clutches at her words, her proclamation consuming him like it did in the past.

The inner turmoil inside him makes his eyes burn. He struggles to find the words to express what he feels for her. The capacity to love and care endless, unlimited for her. A never ending waterfall of emotions washing his wrongdoings away.

The power coursing through his veins is nothing in comparison to the power she has over him. She could bend him all she wants, mold his being all the way to nothingness and put his pieces right back to their rightful place. No darkness inside of him is strong enough to overcome him as long as she loves him. Her light nourishing him and making him feel alive again.

So many thoughts plaguing his mind, but no words are enough to describe his admiration for her. He wants to convey though, he has to try. For her, going forward in life, he has to try.

"You make me feel alive," he shares with her, "I need you close to me,"

Sasuke utters in a mere whisper, but with each syllable his drive to confess grows tenfold. "I love you," he breaks, voice cracking in the end.

He closes his eyes to get his bearings for a second and hears Sakura's breath hitch.

Sakura feels her soul quivering in her chest; she went to heaven and back.

Before anymore tears could escape her eyes however, she quickly shuts them close. This is no reason for her to cry, for this is a happy moment. She sniffles and opens her jade orbs again. The sight that greets her makes her feel like her entire being is being consumed by hot molten lava. The man of her dreams is staring at her, his eyes intense – an endless inferno of feelings exposed for her to cherish.

Her throat bobs in anticipation at the prospect of him acting out what his eyes are conveying.

"Sakura," he says and nudges her chin with his nose.

Sasuke senses her shiver underneath him even though the temperature of the room is far from low. No matter, he is starting to sweat so he decides to undress. Knowing where this is leading them, he pushes himself up and straddles her, knees on either side of her body. Using his lone hand he grabs the outer part of his cotton shirt from behind and lifts it forward over his head.

Sakura gasps beneath him, eyeing him up and down in appreciation. That escalated way better than what she had in mind. Years of need, aching deep within her.

Her hands twitch and she tries to think clearly despite the situation.

"W-what are you doing Sasuke-kun?", she mumbles worriedly.

After finishing his task, the man in question looks down at her. The left side of mouth lifts in haughty grin before he can stop himself. Now, now what a nice view, he thinks.

Sakura's hair has created a beautiful pink halo around her head, matching her flaming, flushed cheeks. Those unique eyes of her sparkle in the dark, passion shining through clearly in them. Her lips part sensually in silent plea for him to claim her.

She wants this as much he does.

"Hot," he answers. The sensation of her, needy, under him or the room temperature are either correct interpretations.

He knows she likes what she sees. His athletic, lean body is no secret, but for him to display it so proudly to her strokes his ego in all the right places. No woman can appreciate him the way she does. Her pure devotion fascinates him, her hungry stares excite him. Only she has that effect on him. She may be the one to yearn for him since the beginning, but he is the one that has been suffering in silence for so long.

She has been loud, clear, but he has been repressed and tortured with his own fondness right along with her. He wants to toy with her a little more, tease her with some scalding remarks until she is dripping wet with fervor, but alas his patience is running out.

His arm stretches out and his hand reaches her throat, her eyes following along his every movement. His fingertips tenderly graze her pulse point, her skin alight with heat.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, his touch creating thousand fires along her neck. He is stalling, they both know it. But, she continues to stay pliant under him allowing him to continue his ministrations.

His eyes burn in a hankering frenzy, analyzing every little reaction he can get out of her before she turns the tables on him.

She closes her eyes in pleasure, throat stretching out and torso lifting, baring more surface for him to please.

Sakura breaths heavily, legs squeezing shut. She cannot believe this kind of simple form of touch brings forth this much twisted pleasure out of her. This is too light for it to be even considered foreplay, yet...she can get off just to the thought of him even touching her.

"N-no…" she tries to halt the upcoming teasing.

She is weak and needy and she knows he will abuse this knowledge to the fullest. He has always been a person to test her limits. Sasuke loves having the upper hand.

His hand slowly goes down and it reaches her ribcage, right at the center. Her nipples harden in response and she feels Sasuke shift above her.

When something hard grazes her stomach, her insides quiver. She is affecting him even though she is doing nothing to him in return.

Sasuke's movements stop abruptly when he realizes his body has been reacting quite positively to the display. He feels himself confined in his loose pants, the underwear straining against his hard length. Apparently, the object of his desires noticed it too.

This is where he loses the battle it seems.

Sakura opens her eyes slowly, her hands reaching her torso. Both of her palms lay flat on top of his hand – trapping him there. She takes it and starts to move it around her body, showing him just where she would enjoy for him to touch her.

When it reaches her right breast, she lets it loose. Sasuke keeping eye contact with her starts to massage her mound; first tenderly and then more roughly.

Depending on the reactions he gets out of her, his fingers play with her hardened nub, her thin t-shit an extra layer of teasing against her sensitive skin there.

Not knowing what to do with her free arms, she decides to test her power. She splays them flat on top of her lover's chest without so much a thought. His skin is a little cold and damp from sweat, his nervousness slipping through bodily fluids rather than expressions. Going up and down with each hand, she caresses his taught stomach, abs prominent against his skin.

Sasuke hums in response, an appreciative tone somewhere hidden in there.

Sakura makes it her mission to get more reactions out him before he finds out just how wet he has made her down there. His chest is there, pecs hard and her fingers skim over his nipples with a feather like touch.

His eyes clump shut and his body leans forward a little bit. He bites his lip and lets out a small sigh. Sakura smiles triumphantly knowing she is staring to push his buttons. Her hands descend lower, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

Sakura looks from where her hands are, the bulge obvious and near to collision with the inside of her left wrist. She purses her lips and risks glancing up at him. He is breathing harder now, his hair falling like a curtain, his side bang hiding half of his face.

"Don't," comes out the strained response.

His jaw is taught, the angles of it sharp, someone would think he is mad.

He is mad alright, mad with desire.

Sasuke has been thinking a lot about these kind of moments the last few months, his mind conjuring up scenarios and positions – dirty, dirty little longing.

Nothing has prepared him for this sensation. He is powerless against her, needing her to feed his solicitude with ardor. Still though, greedy for her as he is, he struggles to shred his shyness away.

She sees right through him and pauses. "Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

In an abrupt movement, he grabs her hand, grip strong on her wrist and slams it right back at the bed, near her head. An act of dominance will not hinder Sakura obedient so soon. She fights right back, seeing Sasuke struggle to keep her hand in place.

Sakura huffs and smiles smugly up at him. His face stays impassive, but his eyes glint dangerously.

Thinking she has won this round, the woman prepares a trotting remark. However, Sasuke renders her speechless with his next move. Abandoning his place above her, he straightens up and pushes his knee right between her legs, just below her searing heat. His lone arm reaches out and grips her left thigh roughly, pinning it backwards and spreading her legs apart in an instant.

Sasuke smirks devilishly at her.

The new position and attitude leaves her all hot and bothered.

Then, his hand finds its place just below her belly button. Leaning forward, he grabs one side of her shorts and starts pulling it towards him. Stunned, she allows him to take them off her.

Sakura wants, needs...she craves to see just how much further he can take it.

But despite all the excitement to see Sasuke's walls fall apart in front of her, she cannot help it when she tries to hide her half naked body from him. Only a thin layer of underwear is keep them apart. Feeling shy now is useless, but god these feelings in her heart are so intense and Sasuke acting out all her desires does not help her at all.

Sakura squeezes her legs shut, thighs pressed deliciously together and stomach taught - straining to keep her lower body hidden from his hungry eyes as much as she can.

In a way, Sakura muses, she is teasing him further by denying him access. Sasuke hates disobedience as much as he hates not getting what he wants.

As always impressed by her strength – even in bed – he clasps her knee and tries pushing it apart. "You don't have to ever hide from me." Sasuke says heatedly.

"I-I," Sakura struggles to find the right words, her blushing cheeks a hot flame on her face. "Sasuke-kun, please," she tries to prolong the inevitable.

How can he be so cool about this when they both know how reserved they are? Be that as it may, they both covet each others' touch and they have been doing so since their younger years.

Knowing she can hide herself no more and she is willing to give all of herself to him, all her scars and her invisible wounds, the pink haired beauty spreads her legs apart, baring her womanly figure to him.

It occurs to her that Sasuke is about to say something to her, but decides against it and prefers to speak with his body instead. With more space now free, the man finds himself snugly between her legs.

Before Sakura could realize what is exactly happening and what his next move is going to be, Sasuke surprises her yet again. Rather than mirroring his previous position on top of her, he chooses to cascade down gently with an objective in mind.

Continuing his ministrations, he smoothly lifts her shirt and scrunches it up towards her chest. With that out of the way, Sasuke starts peppering her belly with soft, open-mouthed kisses. It tickles a tiny bit, but the heat pooling between her legs is a tell-tale sign just how much this is affecting her.

When his hot breath fans above her damp underwear, she knows exactly what he is planning on doing to her. Then, Sasuke pauses and looks up at her questioningly as if to confirm if this okay with her.

To answer his unspoken query, Sakura sits up slightly and crosses her arms grabbing her white blouse by each side. She takes it off in one swift movement and quickly lies down, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

Sakura bites her lip, her hands finding themselves near his nape and fondling his shoulders in an attempt to clear any doubts in Sasuke's head that she may not be ready for this. No words need to be exchanged between them, Sasuke could tell even from the way she breathed if this kind of loving was unwanted from her.

She still feels coy, but, Sasuke knows how to handle her. His hand grips one thigh gently, putting slight pressure on it. He bends down and starts pressing delicate kisses right below her belly button and going lower. When his teeth graze the top of her baby pink, lacy panties, she lets out a tiny whimper. He bites the cute bow and pulls down; his eyes are closed and his fingers are digging into her supple skin, a sweet pressure pulling her back to reality.

Her feet trash a little bit, the covers of the bed becoming a mess in her wake.

Sakura unconsciously lifts her butt up when his hand places under her leg. Taking that as his cue, Sasuke grabs the underside of her lingerie and takes it off her.

With that out of the way, her legs spread apart and he leans back to take a good at her. So many thoughts are running through his head, too many things he wants to say to her. Compliment her beauty and ravishing body; even the most hidden parts of herself are pretty to him.

She looks gorgeous like this, all docile and yielding for him. Sasuke wants to worship her body and treat her with fairness; kiss every scar and caress every curve of her. Every little thing he cannot confess to her, he wants to convey it through every action he does just to please her.

The raven haired man wants to clear any doubts she might have in her head. He needs to make her his, claim her and show her how much she means to him. But first, he has to make sure she knows just how much he wishes to satisfy her.

Sasuke bends down once again, his head between her legs and his arm under thigh, his lone hand holding her captive.

Sakura puts her hands over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her upcoming reactions. When his hot breath fans over her wet folds, she loses it.

He hums thoughtfully as if he is pondering something and then his lips are on her most intimate area. First, a gentle kiss on her clit and then his lips part and he is consuming her wholly. Sasuke uses his tongue skillfully, parting her nether folds and lapping at her entrance. The skill he is displaying has the woman questioning her sanity.

He is very meticulous with her, going as far as using the sounds she makes as guidance. His mouth works in wicked ways and she is making embarrassing, loud noises.

When he pauses to take a breather, Sakura whines. The loss of this endless satisfaction turning her bratty.

"So wet, already," Sasuke says with pride.

Sakura wants to punch his face to the next dimension for that snarky comment, but he has her putty in his hands.

Her face is a little damp from sweat and she pushes a few loose pastel strands away from her sticky cheeks and forehead.

"Don't tease me," she pouts and she slaps his arm lightly – a warning.

Sasuke smirks as if expecting that reaction and then his hand leaves her thigh, a slight bruise already forming on her skin where he had been grabbing her.

Sakura's toes curl in anticipation, her hands settling flat at her sides.

At the same time, Sasuke's exploration begins once more, his mouth finding its place on her needy point. Her heart hammers in her chest and she feels her pleasure reach new heights when his fingers join his tongue.

He strokes her dutifully with his tongue while his two long digits spread her wet folds further apart, providing him with more access. Sakura moans in response, her legs unconsciously lifting with her feet landing gently on his shoulder blades.

Her eyes stop staring at ceiling and she watches as the man she desires has his face all up in her pussy, eating her out like she is the most delicious meal.

"A-ah, please," she keens, anything to lead him on.

Suddenly, he is sucking her clit benevolently, his eyes opening slowly when he senses her staring at him.

Sasuke's prowess activates committing this particularly sensual moment to his memory along with many others to come. Her green eyes are shining brightly and her skin glows; the color of her hair matching her skin, splashes of unique shades of pink intensifying her beauty to the next level. She is shaking slightly, trying fruitlessly to suppress her upcoming orgasm from reaching her too soon.

He itches to make her cum more than once, but his main mission for tonight is to make sure she remembers this night forever... just as he will.

Next thing Sakura knows, a finger is added to the mix and now both his tongue and this are hitting different pleasure points inside her.

Too soon, he suddenly stops and sighs against her quivering entrance. "Fuck, Sakura."

Those last few seconds were such a delicious sensation, she never wants him to stop until she is completely spent. Before she could prod him to continue, the woman feels his index entering her.

Sakura trembles when two fingers start going in and out of her in a fast pace, the intrusion welcome and needed. Then, as if this is not enough, his hand curls and his thumb starts teasing her clit simultaneously whenever possible.

Unable to do anything other than shake in his grasp, Sakura courses her hands roughly through his black hair needing to hold on to something. Her waist bends like a feline in heat, her chest heaving up and down and her breaths coming out in quick pants.

Sakura knows she might be hurting him with how much she is pulling on his hair, but she is unable to care at the moment. He deserves it for turning her in to this tiny, needy monster.

"Don't stop," she moans, face contorted in bliss. Her eyes are closed and her brows are furrowed in concentration. Sakura's mouth parts in a silent plea, her red lips shiny with spit.

She is so close, yet so far away.

Sasuke bites his lip, changes his position and moves to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He feels his member leaking precum inside his boxers and he tries to keep it together.

The man is listening intensely to all the beautiful sounds she is making and breathing hard. His pace is relentless and the muscle in his bicep is straining against his skin from the exertion he is putting it through.

Sasuke grits his teeth when Sakura's walls clench around his fingers, signaling she is close – he cannot stop now.

Sakura's arms loop around his neck and she hugs him close, their bodies sticking to each other. The position is not the most comfortable for him, but damn him if he does not love the way she feels around him. A few of her stiletto pointed nails dig into his skin, leaving angry marks on his back, but the pain just adds fuel to the fire.

"S-Sasuke-kun," she sobs into his neck, reaching euphoria finally. Her body spasms around him, his fingers getting coated with her juices.

Sasuke lets out a pleased sound, something akin to a quiet moan and rests his body on her, his hand coming at a stop and pulling out of her.

Sakura lies spent beneath him with her eyes closed and breaths shallow.

The black haired male feels immense pleasure and pride knowing he made her orgasm just with his fingers and his ego swells at her satisfaction. He has been wishing to be the only one to make her a hot mess like this.

Moreover, the discomfort he is experiencing right now because of her is distracting him from teasing her further, even though he truly enjoys watching her blush and squirm under his penetrating gaze and vexing comments.

His cock is solid hard and aching. It is borderline painful not only because he wishes to get his release soon, but also the whole stimulation confined in his pants is a dire situation that needs to be fixed immediately.

When she shifts underneath him, his boner brushes against her hipbone firmly. Sakura pauses, and peaks at him cautiously, her eyes burning with desire once again.

Not wanting her to make her uncomfortable, he tries to untangle himself from her, but the woman in his arms has other plans.

"You are…" Her voice speaks with purpose, however, her tone is light and shy.

Sasuke flushes and stays still as a rigid board, not wishing to discuss his rather big problem down there. He swears if she tries anything, he will lose control fully.

He is like a wild animal caged and untamed, but about to be set free.

The tall man starts to sit up on his knees in order to avoid the impending confrontation, but his member stands proud and obvious to the eyes. His hand, still wet from her peak, lies limply at his side. He swallows hard and blushes, turning to look the other way and avoiding her ignited stare.

Sakura's mouth waters at the sight displaying before her. Her beautiful lover has never looked hotter than this moment. His skin glistens slightly from perspiration, adding a nice glow to his body and accentuating his toned physique. Sasuke's bangs are tinted at the tips, damp from sweat.

His trousers, along with his boxers, hang low past his waistline and his pelvic bones peak out bringing attention to his happy trail and the prominent bulge in his pants. A vein is popping out in his bicep and Sakura catches a glimpse of his arm flexing, probably to ease up the muscle there.

Sasuke tries hard to compose himself in front of her, but his expression gives out and exposes how clearly turned on he is by this – as if his body has not showcased it enough to her.

It is her turn to command him, it seems.

Sakura decides to take the initiative since Sasuke has not moved from his spot. She approaches him cautiously, slowly sitting up on her elbows and regarding him. He murmurs something inaudible and glares at the mattress if it is the source of all his problems. Sakura takes his silence and his stagnant form as her cue and raises completely from the bed, her core still sore from his intense loving.

"Let me,"she whispers to him immediately upon kneeling in front of him. She almost does not recognize her own voice, with how seductive her tone sounds.

The moment the words come out of her mouth, Sasuke gets alert and his eyes widen a fraction. His lips part, ready to say something, probably to stop her, but he does not have the power to do so. She notices his sharingan is deactivated now, but the look he is giving her makes her resolute with her decision.

It incites her motivation to please him and show him how much she appreciates him and all of his efforts towards her. After that amazing orgasm he gave her, the talented man deserves to feel some kind of pleasure too. Besides, she cannot let him handle all that by himself, she thinks cheekily.

"Sasuke-kun," Sakura uses the best authoritative voice she can master at a time like this.

He instantly glances up at her, contemplating his options inside his head. Everything points to her with his dick in her mouth. Fuck him and his traitorous body. The most collected part of his brain melts at the thought of her even touching him.

Sakura's hand reaches forward and she palms him roughly through the layers of fabric, face set with a purpose in mind. Sasuke in return short circuits.

He allows himself to be completely overtaken by her.

His senses are overcome by the sheer desire coursing through his veins. Every fantasy, every touch, every word that has to do with her replaying like a broken mantra in his mind. He feels everything tenfold, the emotions consuming him like the black fire he commands to destroy.

Sasuke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, his cheeks aflame and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His path to redemption has reached its final destination.

To become hers, wholly.

Sakura begins to massage him based on his repressed reactions like a twitch of his lip or the fluttering of his eyelashes. She starts gently, then she adds more pressure as she goes on. When the woman feels like she has had enough, she grabs the hem of his trousers and pulls down. The same process follows gradually for his boxers too. His cock stands proud and thick, complementing his already perfect figure.

Meanwhile, Sasuke, not knowing what to do, tries to minimize his reactions, preferring to stay reserved yet. His introverted nature makes him hesitant when he is the one on the receiving end. Despite that, he knows Sakura, being perceptive when it comes to him, will catch on quickly and she will accommodate herself to get customized to his still reluctant attitude.

Sakura understands why Sasuke acts so averse since he has yet to come to terms with that fact that it is alright to feel emotional. It is okay to express love and feel it consume you. He is afraid that if he lets himself go, he will never be able to stand even the thought of losing her.

When the outer part of her index finger starts to tenderly caress his hipbone, he shallows hard and opens his eyes to look at her.

The look she is giving him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Her expressive light green eyes shine with so much genuine adoration and her smile is sweet and warm; her whole aura feels inviting and secure.

"Sakura, I-" Sasuke begins, the tremor in his voice startling him.

"It's okay," Sakura says kindly and her other hand lifts, her palm laying flat atop of his heart. She soothes him with her next words, "It's okay to feel like this."

Sasuke studies her carefully, appreciating how much she cares for his comfort. She knows him so well and they are not even an item yet. He cannot wait to spend more time with her and learn each others' habits and quirks.

He lets out an affirmative hum and nods at her.

The powerful shinobi observes her as she continues her ministrations. Her left hand joins her right down there. She breathes out heartily, something akin to a laugh and an awkward smile etches across her face. Obviously, she has not done this before.

Then, Sakura purses her lips and with determined expression on her face, her right hand descends smoothly on his rock hard cock. The head is angry, red in color, his shaft one shade darker than the rest of his body. The girl inspects it as discreetly as possible and with two swift motions, her fingers circle around him and she begins to stroke him gently.

Sasuke lets out a hiss, unprepared for the foreign contact. He has touched himself before thinking of her, but nothing compares to this new, real sensation.

Her left hand stays still, clasping firmly his left hipbone to steady her movements. Sakura peers at him from underneath her pastel eyelashes, jade orbs shining innocently just as she bends down and places her bruised, scarlet lips right before his manhood.

Sasuke gulps down the saliva stuck in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. Sakura breathes out hotly on it, blinks at him and her tongue comes out to lick him.

The first swipe of her cute tongue against his shaft makes him let out a quiet moan. Unconsciously, his lone hand grabs a fistful of her hair, tangling his fingers in her soft tresses. He tags her forward a little bit, her mouth and nose bumping on his hardness, urging her to take him into her mouth.

Sakura, realizing she needs to step her game up, opens up and pushes his cock inside her mouth. She starts to suck him, creating a steady rhythm in tandem with her right hand. Half of his member is inside her crevice, her jaw stretching and aching pleasantly because of his girth while her hand strokes the other half that she cannot fit in her mouth yet. His size is above average and hard to handle, but it is nothing Sakura cannot learn to master with Sasuke as her teacher.

In time, she swears, Sakura will learn to please him so good, she will have him begging for more.

The woman picks up the pace, and her taste buds feel a salty essence on her tongue. He is starting leak precum already and her suspicions are further confirmed when he commences to panting.

Sasuke is rougher with her now, pushing her forward and making her cheeks hollow out. Her jaw hurts, but the pain is welcome. She gags a little bit, but she does not relent, wishing to deep throat him further.

"F-fuck, Sakura," he curses, his pleasured groans music to her ears. Sasuke sees white behind his closed eyelids, and he grits his teeth trying to hold on longer to the feeling.

The air smells like sex, and the hormones releasing from Sasuke's body makes his manly musk even more intense as Sakura tries to breath through her nose since her mouth is busy.

She moans loudly at a rather harsh tag against her scalp, and the vibrations it creates against his dick cause Sasuke to buckle suddenly. Her fingernails dig into his skin anew and it stimulates him even more, his orgasm approaching at an alarming rate.

Her strokes become uneven, but faster. At that moment, he decides to look down at her, and seeing her like this, on her knees for him doing everything she can in order to satisfy him enhances his experience even further.

"S-Sakura," Sasuke tries to warn her, albeit late. "—I am going to-"

Before he can get any more words out of his mouth, his climax hits him and his hand grips her hair hard, holding on for dear life.

"A-ah," Sasuke lets out a racy moan; a foreign sound when it comes to him. His eyes close in satisfaction and he leans forward slightly, riding out the remnants of his orgasm inside her mouth.

The image that greets him is enough to make him hard again.

Despite being unprepared, Sakura took his cock well, his semen filling her up and quenching her thirst to please him. She shallows everything he has to offer, like its sweet wine pouring down her throat.

He releases her hair finally, and in return she lets out his member fall out of her mouth with a loud pop. At the same time her left arm abandons its place at his hip and steadies herself on the bed instead. Her lips are bruised and swollen, while her hair is wild and untamed, the endeavor clearly leaving her disheveled. Her chin is shiny with spit and some of the excess fluids that must have spilled out.

As if this is not erotic or sensual enough, her fingers come forth and tap on her coated lips and chin to capture any sticky residue that has escaped. She glances up at him from her spot on all fours before him and puts her fingertips in her mouth, savoring every drop of him. Sakura smirks mischievously up at him, putting his infamous sneers to shame.

Sasuke almost gives in, ready to act out all his shameful thoughts away.

Sakura's core still burns deliciously and Sasuke's reactions to her has made her a little wet, in need of attention again, but she does not voice anything out loud and chooses to let this moment pass. They have all the time in the world, after all. The beautiful woman sits on her knees, her palms resting flat on her thick thighs and she lets out a content sigh.

And just like that, their lust infused spell is broken, their awkwardness and shyness returning back, reverting to their usual selves.

The man seems to have a similar thought process, because he relaxes and following her lead, he sits down on the bed.

They exchange a few fleeting glances, unspoken naughty thoughts going back and forth between them; the newly made couple stays put instead.

A few minutes pass, and then Sakura is getting up. She is fully naked, but she is not ashamed anymore, flashing her gorgeous naked body to him.

"We should probably wash up," she comments as casually as possible to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Unconsciously, the girl scratches her head and puts a few pink locks behind her ears.

In an act of bravery, Sakura adds a proposition.

"Join me?" she asks and extends her hand out.

"Aa." Sasuke nods and gets up from the bed in all his naked glory, leaving his trousers and boxers behind.

Sakura clasps their hands together and leads him to her private bathroom.

Sakura steps inside the shower stall, Sasuke following close behind and joining her, just as she opens the tap. She alters it from faucet to shower head and together they let themselves be washed by the hot steam. His lone hand grabs her by the hip, aligning her thick behind to his still semi hard length. Sakura bends over a little bit, both palms laying flat on the shower wall, probing him further to sensually rub against her. They stay like this for awhile, their aftermath of their hot desire still prominent, influencing their movements.

Sasuke leans in close and hugs her, his hand continuing its journey and draping over her tummy, bringing her adjacent to his chest in an intimate embrace. Then, he kisses her neck and closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. His black hair is fully wet, sticking to his face and obscuring the left side of it completely.

The pink haired beauty, enjoying the warmth provided by her lover, exhales in quick gasps, her lips parting – tasting the water on her tongue, quenching her imaginary thirst. Her pastel locks stick to every part of her face, the hair transforming under the influence of the humidity and turning one shade darker, a close mix of hot pink and coral.

Deciding she has had enough, and this could lead them further into an endless inferno of love and sex, Sakura grabs the nearest bottle of soap and pours some of it into her open palm. Noting the new development, Sasuke lets go of her and allows the woman in his arms to turn around. She starts to wash his hair, standing on her tip toes. To help her out, Sasuke tries to shorten his height by buckling his knees a tiny bit and minimizing the distance between them.

He inclines forward, favoring her gentle touch, her caresses soothing him. The man pulls her into his chest, his arm circling around her waist and hugging her close. Her fingers tend to his scalp, her nails scratching him and creating a pleasurable, fuzzy effect.

Finishing her task, Sakura washes the soap suds off his head with the help of the flowing water, creating bubbles in her wake.

To return the favor to herself, Sakura pours another patch of soap straight atop of her head and turns around. "My turn," she says, giddy.

"Sure, darling." Sasuke says ironically to tease her, smirking lazily. Not counting the implications of such endearment, they both brush it off as a joke for the time being.

He stars to tend to her locks, coursing his fingers through her hair and smothering the soap everywhere, washing her up. Sakura stays still, humming in appreciation at the gentle touch of her menacing warrior, marveling at the fact he is becoming this soft with her.

When his hand descends lower and starts massaging her nape, Sakura lets out a whimper, feeling her knots loosen under his skillful fondling; the stress leaves out of her in a whoosh.

Sakura relaxes under his ministrations, not minding him caressing her body, from her shoulder blades down to her backside. Stopping just above her perky butt, Sasuke halts abruptly, not wanting to be tempted to do more. Paying attention to his struggle, the woman turns around and gives him a chaste peck on the lips.

After that small show of affection, the beauty does not waste anymore time and pours soap all over his body in a rush. He grimaces instantly at the sudden assault, but she does not relent, giggling heartily at his reaction. With the steam volume lowered, she gets her chance to wash his body clean, helping him out and lending a hand wherever it deems necessary.

Busy as he is, Sakura begins her own cleaning process. Using her hands quickly, she gives herself a throughout bath, paying extra attention to her nether regions. Always preppy and careful, Sasuke makes a good use of his lone hand and he washes up nicely, leaving no spot unattended.

They both finish around the same time, and Sakura adjusts the temperature and flow to fit their needs. Splashes of hot water come out strongly, rinsing their foamy bodies fully.

With that out of the way, Sakura grabs the nearest towels she can find; one for her and one for her lover. She lends it to Sasuke who steps out of the stall, giving her more space. The material feels fluffy as she brushes the towel against her body, wiping any excess water.

Sasuke swipes his black locks behind, the purple of his rinnegan glimmering in the low dimmed lights of the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from humidity so his reflection is blurry, a haze of skin in contrast to his glowing eye and dark hair. Sakura's pink halo comes to view, the rose to his black abyss; the contradiction of their permanent colors a poem of its own.

He uses the towel she gave him to wipe away most of the wetness on his skin, tapping gently everywhere. Meanwhile, Sakura struggles to squeeze all the water out of her hair, the towel moving along her scalp to make her strands as dry as possible. Sasuke follows her steps and uses his own towel to dampen his locks just enough so it is not dripping on his shoulders anymore.

After that, they both take a few minutes of their time to finish some extra bathroom businesses respectively and they exit the room. Clean and fresh, the couple lies on the bed; the fact that Sasuke has his own separate room across the hall left unsaid.

Sakura turns to her side to look at him, her body slightly curling to adjust to her favorite sleeping position. Sasuke lies on his stomach, his head turned to his left, staring at her silently. It feels quite domestic like this, Sakura almost muses out loud.

"Good night, Sasuke-kun," she says sweetly, a toothy grin on her face.

She is happy, Sasuke thinks. He blinks slowly, savoring every second he is looking at her.

"Goodnight," the man responds, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

His eyes speak way more volumes than his words are. The night may be small, but their love is forever. Both content, they let the need to sleep overtake them.

Knock, knock, knock.

What an awful background noise for the nice dream she is having; Sakura stirs in her sleep, her brows furrowing as she tries to hang on to the sleepless state. The imaginary images stop and her mind draws a blank.

She feels a little drool on her lips and her hand unconsciously wipes it away.

Sakura-chan!

Ah, yes, Naruto of course, Sakura thinks, exasperated.

Then, the weirdest thing happens. The woman hears mumbling next to her, more specifically grumbling. This person must be quite grumpy in the morning, because next thing she knows, someone curses.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this!" The blond is desperate, his fist banging against the wooden door loudly.

"Wake up Sakura-chan!" Naruto bellows, frustration clear in his voice, "That bastard, Sasuke, had the audacity to leave before us!"

This piques Sakura's interest, because she clearly recalls being the last one to see Sasuke last night. Just when she was enjoying her sleep, her overly excited friend had to come and remind her about her problem.

But wait a minute…

The culprit came to her room last night.

"Shut up," a male voice mumbles hoarsely, the grouchy tone awfully familiar.

Sakura's eyes widen instantly and the sight that greets her makes her breath hitch.

Sasuke is on his back, his lone arm resting on top of his eyes, trying to prevent the sunlight from peeking through his closed eyelids. His chest is rising up and down, the blanket barely covering his naked torso.

"Open up, already, Sakura, don't keep me waiting!" The blue eyed man shouts desperately. He is ready to barge into Kakashi's room if his friend does not show signs of waking up anytime soon. Sasuke has obviously left the building since his room is empty, no sign of him found anywhere when the blond barged into his room.

His options are limited here, and he thought since Sakura usually wakes up early, she would be the one to keep him company until they meet up with Kakashi.

Sakura is about to have a quarter life crisis here. She cannot believe she woke up to this. First, she felt annoyed at being woken up so abruptly, and now, as she stares at Sasuke's good looking side profile, she feels like someone is trying to torture her.

Then, in flash, her memory floods back and Sakura remembers exactly what went down last night. More specifically, how Sasuke went down on her.

Her loins burn and her core aches in a gratifying sense.

"Oh my god," Sakura whispers, trying to keep her voice down. In any other circumstances, she would be shouting. The woman puts her palms upon her heated cheeks, gaping at her lover who seems to be clueless as to what is going on.

"Okay fine," Naruto announces dejectedly, his voice a tad lower this time. With one last look at the door, the young man finally leaves.

Sakura lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. Sasuke seems to be wide awake, although his attitude leaves no room for discussion. He is still quite sleepy, and Naruto's wake up call was not the best to start the day with.

"Finally," The man besides her mutters. Sakura pokes his arm, curious to see his reaction to their predicament.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, processing everything in. When his stare softens, Sakura greets him breathlessly. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun."

She gazes at him lovingly, remembering how his words left searing marks on her heart, how his lips felt against her skin, making her his.

"Morning," he mumbles and turns to his side, bringing her lithe form close in an intimate hug. Sakura fits herself into his embrace instantly when she realizes what his intentions are.

The couple snuggles silently for a while, their soft exhalations the only sound in the room. The birds are lightly chirping outside, creating a nice cicada in the quiet morning.

"The idiot can be quite a hassle in the morning," Sasuke murmurs suddenly as if commenting about the weather.

He pulls her closer, basking in her scent. His gentle touch, a huge contrast to his past self who was selfish and harsh. She is making him kind again, bringing forth the child like innocence he used to have. The man sighs against her, his heartbeat calm and his mind clear from any insidious thoughts.

The only thing important in his life is in front of him, right in his arms.

Sakura laughs, a beautiful sound and it rings inside him like a bell signaling happiness.

"Yes, always," Sakura responds, a teasing smile on her lips. "But he is our idiot and I wouldn't trade him for the world."

"Sure," Sasuke sneers, mirth somewhere hidden in there.

"Should we..?" Sakura suddenly asks, the implications clear. She gazes up at him seriously, awaiting for his opinion, making sure he is comfortable with all this.

"Let them figure it out on their own," Sasuke says, his eyes sincere. "Besides it will be funnier that way," the black haired man smirks, enjoying immensely the possibility of Kakashi and especially Naruto struggling.

"Hm, fine," Sakura smiles, her eyes glinting evilly. He is becoming a bad influence to her, but she will not lie and pretend that she will not be enjoying torturing those two – their funny comments about her beloved Sasuke-kun had teased her far enough.

Having decided that, the couple gets up and starts preparing for their day. Sasuke collects last night's clothes and wears them again. He bids Sakura a soft kiss goodbye on the forehead and heads to his room to finish up getting ready. Sakura blushes and stares at this retreating back fondly, a huge grin forming on her lips.

When he is out of the room, Sakura punches the bed in excitement, letting out a muffled cry, "Shannaro!".

Half an hour later, all members of Team seven meet up at the hotel lobby. Naruto's reaction is instant, proclaiming how he is going punch Sasuke's lights out for disappearing. The man explains, cool and collected, how it was none of the blond's business where he went. This arises some suspicions and some raised eyebrows as to where Sasuke could have went.

Sakura is trying to be subtle, really, but she is having too much fun. She giggles every now and then, throwing fleeting glances at her lover who is avoiding answering any questions about his whereabouts, probing the curious men even further to try and understand what could have possibly went down between the full of tension – not yet or so they thought – couple.

"I am going to find out what what is going on here and when I do, I will never let you guys leave it down," Naruto swears – an oath he is bound to regret really, really soon...

[nastyburger]

What are your thoughts on Cores? Are they all a type of element? (i.e Ice, Fire, Plant, Electric, etc) Could they be based one some kind of temperature slider? What kind of core would the Lunch Lady have? Would she have a simple hot/fire Core? Or would she have a sort of strange “Meat” Core? Idk I’m asking you

i love the concept of cores! i like to think cores are like the ghost’s mind and heart (but rolled into one and put in their chest) with the “mind” half being their obsession and the “heart” half being their element. i like to think theyre all elemental like fire ice and all that! i feel a core merely fuels the ghost, and the element is just a minor detail dictating certain features (do they feel more hot or cold to the touch? is their image slightly more fuzzed out like fire or pulsing with electricity? are they more rigid yet see through like ice? ect. though these traits are hard to see unless your looking really closely or have a good eye like frostbite taking one look at danny and knowing he has an ice core). like its more how the ghost is comprised/holding its ectoplasm together so i dont believe it dictates what their literal powers are.

hmmmmm think about it like atla nations! like sokka is very clearly water tribe with his clothes, culture, weapons, and natural inclination to the cold but that doesnt mean he’s a waterbender. i think about cores like that basically if that makes any sense! a good example of core not equaling power would be ember, she would have a fire core but her powers is clearly based on sound and music despite the aesthetic! which brings us to our next point..........

im very inclined to the idea that obsessions are wrapped up along in the core. its essentially the gas tank to the whole operation. the more a ghost indulges their obsession the more powerful they become and this is where their true power comes from. the actual elemental part is just the outer shell glue holding everything together and only particularly powerful ghosts, ghosts fortunate enough to have their element and obsession align, or ones simply smart enough to figure out how to tap in would learn their element and use it outwardly.

lets use danny as an example of “a powerful ghost using his core”, danny’s power was building so much that he physically felt freezing no what temperature it was or how much he bundled up. even in ghost form he was constantly shivering. danny’s core was literally freezing him from the inside out and needed to release the excess energy, he had no choice but to learn how to do this and just use ice powers. on the other hand though, this means he can use his ice powers far more frequently and exclusively as his main mode of attack if he wanted to. basically ghosts in this category have no choice but to use their elemental core lest they become a ticking time bomb of repression to themselves (i also like to believe tapping into ones core is very difficult to do hence danny needing to be taught instead of like accidentally releasing it or something, many ghosts born with the POTENTIAL to have this really powerful core ability often cease to exist because it destroys themselves from the inside out. thats why theres not many of them). other examples of this category would be frostbite and undergrowth.

contenders for the “fortunate enough to have their element and obsession align” would be technus. electricity is probably the most common type of element for this category in all honesty. technus is obsessed with technology, and while i would say most of his powers are “possessing” technology with his basic package of ghost powers theres no denying the dude definitely has some sparks flying. i feel like if your obsession is already close to your element then its only reasonable you stumble upon a natural way to use it. but heres the key difference between a ghost like technus and a ghost like danny: if technus can use electricity all the time then why bother possessing electronics? simple answer is thats just not sustainable. danny is literally overfilling with energy, he has so much excess its spilling over and will literally kill him if he doesnt blast off a couple of ice beams here and there. technus is pulling energy from his core, its not excess, hes just tapping into this extra reservoir of power, but if he uses it TOO much he will have the exact opposite problem of danny. basically expending too much of your own battery that you die from lack of power. unless you are the first category of ghosts, tapping into your core at all should be used sparingly.

“simply smart enough to figure out how to tap into their core” would be ghosts like ember and skulker. a musician pop star would have nothing to do with fire, likewise a hunter with electricity, but these two are able to minorly use their element abilities. “smart” probably isnt the right word to use here, but more or less for one reason or another, these ghosts figured it out and are now using their cores. thats basically all there is to it. though i will say, having a core strong enough in general to have power to tap into in the first place is another deciding factor for all three of these categories. with that, lets move on to the last set of ghosts.

going aaaaaaaall the way back to your original question of whether or not a ghost like the lunch lady would have a “meat core” or something like that, the final group of ghost are ones that simply dont use their elemental core at all. they instead lean into their obsessions. ghosts in this category can be here for a number of reasons, perhaps the shell of their core is very minor and weak and they cant use that elemental power no matter how hard they try, perhaps theyre so focused on their obsession they may not even need their elemental, perhaps they just simply cant learn how to tap into their core at all because they dont have enough sentience.

i would say the lunch lady and the box ghost are the “too weak to use their elements” ghosts, but that doesnt mean they are powerless! i like to think all ghosts have a “basic package of ghost powers” with levitation/telekinesis being one of them, the only difference among the ghosts is how their obsessions dictate their natural affinity towards certain things. so while the lunch lady doesnt LITERALLY have a meat core, her obsession gives her the natural inclination towards food and meat. she can control these things with the most accuracy and power, it allows her to do things like making the meat suit and whatnot, its just what she’s best at controlling. regardless, these ghosts can never learn how to use their elemental core but thats okay. their obsessions is just a different path to take. speaking of which........

“so focused on their obsession they dont even need their elemental core” is clockwork. hes just so powerful on his own, why would he need to use that? does he even have an elemental core to control? who knows and who cares because the dude can LITERALLY CONTROL TIME. another example would be desiree, maybe even the ghost writer. these guys already gain so much power from their obsession it doesnt matter whether or not they have the ability to use them or not. thats sorta the beauty in this category! because you know who else can fit in here? TUE box ghost. thats right, just because your elemental core is too weak to tap into doesn’t mean youre weak. in the ultimate enemy, the future box ghost is genuinely powerful. his abilities to control boxes extend beyond just levitating and throwing them around, he can make these pink plasma boxes and hes a genuine threat to behold. he leaned into his obsession and it developed enough to this point of power. again, loop this back to the atla comparison i was making earlier, just because someone is a nonbender doesnt make them weak! those nonbenders lean into learning different skill sets until mastery and become very formidable foes. just because youre not born with it doesn’t mean you cant git gud. on the other hand......

the very last kind of ghosts are the “cant learn how to use their core because theyre not sentient/intelligent enough”. these are ghosts like the blob ghosts, ectopusses, maybe even cujo and other animal ghosts if we’re being honest. using your core doesnt come naturally, it needs to be taught and learned, you have to actually train to use it. so in cases like these ghosts, they just dont have the thought process to do this. hell, some of them like the blobbies may not even have fully formed obsessions. their more scribbles, raw ideas, pure emotion giving sentience to ectoplasm. with cujo (assuming he has an elemental shell strong enough), you could argue that you can train him to use his core like its a dog trick, but in all honesty this would be very very difficult to do and whether or not cujo can use it on his own is debatable.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 122: The Centaur and the Sneak

At first they all thought they landed outside again, which would have been a welcome relief considering the last time they'd been in open air it had not been a good night. This little clearing was dappled with light, the tree canopy just enough shade for them all to breath in the fresh air dancing about, the floor was soft spring grass that was at least a more tolerable landing than most places.

Peter knew better first though, as he seemed to have knocked over a wastepaper bin. Sirius had landed upside down against a stump, so he spotted a door for what it was instead of an oddly shaped bit of wood through a gap in the trees, and went over to pull it curiously, though it refused to open.

"Guess we're in Firenze's classroom," James said excitedly, twisting this way and that in the light, it really had been too long since they'd just lounged out by the lake. Even the last bit of fresh air they'd really had without having to worry about Moony had been a miserable time up in the owlery.

He waited only a moment more to appraise Evans one last time, but she was brushing furiously at her face and trying to pretend like nothing was wrong, and he could respect that. He summoned the book to him, and declared the chapter title.

Remus gave a slow, sarcastic clap at how proud he seemed of himself. "Congratulations Prongs, even Sirius could have made that leap in logic."

"I think calling it a leap is too kind," Peter grinned, "more like a hop."

Regulus busted out laughing in surprise, and he wasn't the only one. James and Sirius exchanged a fond smile as even Alice and Longbottom got a snicker at their expense, only Evans seemed to be trying to repress her smile, and she really wasn't trying that hard.

"I do wonder who the sneak will be though," Sirius said loudly with an exaggerated eyeroll for his 'hurt' feelings. "Maybe Harry? He can be pretty sneaky when he likes."

"You've won the last two bets, I'm certainly not going against you," Peter raised his hands up in surrender.

"A miracle in itself really, your luck must be changing for the better Padfoot," Remus grinned.

"I've got all the luck I need Moony," Sirius proudly declared.

James didn't even want to start reading as he watched, the book held loosely in one hand as he lazed back against a tree. He could have thrown himself to the ground and closed his eyes, and it really would be like none of this had even happened, they were all just laughing and ribbing at each other like old times.

Then Regulus came over and asked Peter for one of those sandwiches, and Sirius got that shifty look back in place and retreated slightly. It was better than him going and picking a fight like James would have thought he'd do by now, so even he couldn't deny things really were changing.

Someone finally cleared their throat impatiently, and he sighed deeply and sheepishly went back to the book, mostly aware there wasn't a real bathroom in here so he couldn't pretend this would go on forever.

It only took a quick conversation from Parvati and Lavender before Harry was being brought in here, and the place was pointlessly described again, but he read about Firenze with honest curiosity. Of the few centaurs they'd bothered to talk to in the forest, it was never very long, let alone getting on a first name basis with them.

"I was shocked there even were centaurs in the Forbidden Forest," Longbottom said casually enough. Not so loud as if he expected everyone to listen, but not quietly either, just chatting with Alice. "This really does sound unprecedented. I've read about them, and it's so rare for them to talk to humans really, let alone what's now going on at Hogwarts."

"I think we've all had more than enough of what he's read," Sirius huffed behind him, grabbing Remus' wrist and pulling him to the back of the classroom nearly out of sight. He knew he shouldn't now, but this wasn't an impulse he'd try to stop even when James did know, and it's not like he was going to have that conversation here. It could only be a good thing to keep Moony out of a fight as well, and otherwise distracted, he assured himself.*

James sighed in exhaustion but let the two leave, it probably was best to put some distance there, even if Longbottom actually looked apologetic for a moment. That was new at least, but clearly their plan to seem more approachable to the others was at least going to be put on hold, if not trashed all together, considering recent events.

The lesson itself wasn't really that interesting, the same nonsense Trelawney had been going on about, but now even Firenze was instructing that this was all theoretical and unpredictable. At least he was honest about his hogwash.

Sirius seemed to at least like the idea though and had to jump nearly twice his height, but finally caught a low hanging branch, and when he came down with it, they were now all glinting in starlight instead.

James made a chuffed noise at the idiot and repositioned to get the book in some better light so he could keep going.

The end of the class came with some sort of new details on Hagrid's issue this year, and he'd saved this centaur from his own heard in the meantime. He sighed and glanced back, but Sirius and Remus were now completely hidden in shadows, and Peter and Regulus were having their own whispered conversation about Hagrid's newest 'attempt.'

He could have joined them, it's not like there was anything really stopping him, just the odd idea in general of talking to Sirius' little brother. He hadn't even known the kid existed until his sorting, and Sirius had not spoken a word about him sense. James had some questions about him, but none he could bring himself asking of either, especially not now. He chanced a glance at Evans again, but she was clearly still in no mood to talk to anyone. She'd sat herself in a patch of sun, but even now that it was stars shining down she just kept fidgeting with her hair, her knees still to her chest. At least it hid her red rimmed eyes better.

When he tried to keep going and talk just turned to OWL's, he pushed away his misgivings. This was just getting ridiculous, and James Potter did not mope. He strode over and plopped himself down beside the two as Peter was saying, "and it was this gray centaur with a beard as long as Dumbledore's, and we'd caught him at a bad time cleaning his hooves so he was really short with us and-"

"That's the centaur story you went with?" James scoffed at him. "How about the time we saw this pinto one that must have been out hunting, and when he spotted Moony, he shot an arrow at him; and I do mean Moony. So he growls a warning and rears up right, all eight feet of him, and-"

"Excuse you," Regulus scowled. "It's sort of rude to be interrupting one story with another, isn't it?"

James scowled right back. "You'd know all about etiquette."

Peter cleared his throat softly and gave James a beseeching look, and he huffed. He didn't understand why Peter was clearly trying to hide a smile, maybe Sirius' little brothers idiocies was rubbing off on him. "It was a boring story," he added petulantly. He'd never gotten to tell any werewolf stories before, and this one involved both, why should Peter get all the fun?

He didn't want to pick another fight with Wormtail though, especially not over something so stupid, so took his obvious hint of eyeing the book and kept going.

At least their coming OWL's weren't forced into his consciousness long, as instead talk turned to Dumbledore's Army, and Harry teaching them all the Patronus charm!

"I've meant to yell at you about this for ages," Evans' voice sounded a little shotty, but it got better as she easily directed at him with that old irritated tone again. "You lot lied! All four of you can produce a patronus, can't you!" Nobody really wanted to be reminded of their time in Azkaban enough to bring it up before now.

"Yep," James' tone reached an impressive level of smug as he looked at her. "There's been studies done on the correlation of animagus' and patronus' and we all did them before hand to see. Would have been pointless doing all that work just to not get any good animals from the bunch."

"I've never heard that," Regulus sounded genuinely curious as he looked from him to Peter.

"McGonagall got us onto the idea," Peter nodded, "we were asking her some questions about the whole thing and if there was any way to tell-"

"As subtly as possible of course," he interrupted with a smirk.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept going, "and she mentioned it, seemed happy to actually have a reason for us hanging back in class for once without issuing a detention."

"That's really cool," Regulus actually grinned, and he didn't look half as pompous as usual while doing so. He got to his feet, took the precious time to brush the grass from his pants, but drew his wand and tried again.

Like before though, it came out very bright and solid, but still vanished before it could solidify. Regulus huffed in frustration and glared at his wand like it had done him a great personal harm.

"It really does take a lot of practice and concentration, not just one burst of energy," Peter happily coached. "You have to really feel the happy emotion you're going for, and keep it in mind for a long stretch of time-"

"We only did it around dementors that one time," James uneasily agreed, "and that was the hardest it's ever been. It still took us months of effort."

Regulus still looked annoyed every time James spoke even when he was agreeing with Peter now, but the other three all gave it goes again, with the same results as last time to all of their agitation.

Remus and Sirius finally came back over to grace them with their presence much to his relief. They looked like they'd been chasing each other around back there, a twig was even stuck in Sirius' hair and they looked a little flushed even in the dim lighting, but when they saw what was going on they looked almost pleased enough not to go running off again.

Sirius made his dog appear with pride, and it went bounding around everyone just as smug as its castor, even darting right through Longbottom before stopping at his feet once more before vanishing.

Remus just rolled his eyes at the display and quickly asked him to keep going, though James understood why, Moony hated showing off his wolf patronus and he didn't want anyone to ask for it.

As several students guardian animal was described, Regulus leaned very close to Peter so Potter couldn't hear and whispered, "if you don't tell him to stop that, he never will."

"He doesn't mean anything by it," Peter sighed. His heart stumbled unevenly though as he thought about it again, it had only started annoying him recently, he was used to not getting a word in edge wise with those two loud mouthed idiots, but if he did just keep letting them do it would the resentment return?

They all stopped their own little tasks as if a dementor had showed up anyways though, when Dobby came in and delivered the news they'd all feared since the beginning. She knew.

Alice and Frank sat up abruptly, their wands in hand and an almost terrifying look in place. Harry had gone so long without a detention, and the mark had still been mentioned to be on his hand. Would they now forever have to picture Neville the same? He'd been doing so well, they didn't even get to hear what his animal would be!

Lily scowled and wished for the millionth time she could blow that woman up as Harry had once done to Marge and send her into the stratosphere, they were learning for crying out loud! And now these kids were running for the lives!

James looked as if he were reading the death of a dear friend as his son was forced to abandon his group and make a run for it, but not fast enough. He couldn't sit still as Umbridge began hauling him off, though at least it was to the headmasters office rather than her own for another round of torture.

He was pacing in frustration and kept kicking a nearby bush on his path as he went through the rest of the other unexpected guests to this, the Minister and Percy were back! Along with two aurors?! Just what was going to happen to his son, were they really going to haul him off to Azkaban for this!

At least one of them was Kingsley, and Mcgonagall was there too, it couldn't be that bad, right?

It got almost that bad. They couldn't even laugh at the expense of the girl.

"I found our sneak," Sirius said viciously as Marietta was dragged in, James was almost in a flying temper for Harry having no way to talk himself out of this because someone in his group ratted him out.

Then he winced at his own choice of phrase and glanced at Peter, who was ducking low and trying to pretend he wasn't even there even as his fists kept tensing up in frustration for this situation same as them.

The Marauders were all trying to move past that instance now, but it was of some comfort to Sirius if Peter did still blame himself. He just wasn't sure how to tell him it was okay to forgive, but not forget, he was still working on that himself.

Remus was distracted enough though when Dumbledore got a new animal association, a scapegoat! What was he doing, pinning the whole thing on himself? He half wished James was just making all this up as Marietta began actually confirming the story, and Fudge sent Percy off to get orders ready to send Albus Dumbledore to Azkaban!

Dumbledore at least kept his head better than James was, who kept cursing fluently at this in between reading to nobodies protest, as he dispatched anyone who dared raise a wand against him, made one last cryptic remark to Harry about those merlin-awful occlumency lessons, and left in style.

HPHPHPHPHP

The others aren't ever going to be able to do patronus' in fic, I'm really not trying to make these guys all elite students who can do anything and the DA was apparently practicing since January to get this far, it's mid-March in the books when this happens, so here's what I imagine their patronus' would have been-

Lily- Adder Snake/ Until she fell in love with James, then the Doe

Alice- Elephant/ Thesteral

Frank- Kangaroo Mouse/ Thesteral

Regulus- Lion (think Scar)

Personal headcanon on top of these headcanon picks, none of their patronuses' would have taken shape even if they had been practicing long enough to do them, because they're all in the most in between moments of their life. Their animal can't form, because they're not even sure of who they are right now.

Last thing of note, I imagine Neville's is a honey badger. Let me know your thoughts on all of these, especially if you disagree and imagined different animals for any of them!

* The excluded scene will appear in a separate post

[thatsamericano]

In Gin and Whiskey, There is Truth

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano, brief appearance of Lithuania at the beginning.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen. Mentions/implications of sexual activity, alcohol use, discussions of the consent issues surrounding hooking up while one person is more drunk than the other (though nothing remotely non-consensual happens in this story).

Word Count: 2524

Summary: America has too much to drink at the speakeasy, and he’s more honest and forward with Romano than he would normally be. Romano, who’s been harboring a crush on his idiot housemate for a while, tries to avoid taking advantage of America while he’s drunk.

Notes: Written for @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent Day 4 prompt “What was the mistake? The alcohol or us?”. Title adapted from the Latin saying “In Vino Veritas.”

America wasn’t as old as Romano or Lithuania, and he probably hadn’t been exposed to alcohol as much in the course of his relatively short life as a nation. That was why, despite being taller and bigger than both of them, he was much more drunk from the evening they’d spent at the speakeasy than either of his housemates. While Tolys and Savino were merely tipsy, Alfred was absolutely blotto.

America needed help from both of them to get back home, so Lithuania and Romano were on either side of him. His arms fell heavy across both of their shoulders, but his swaying steps tended to lean a little more to the right, so he ended up pressing against Savino a few times. At one point, Alfred even tipped his head down, nuzzled into the top of Savino’s hair, and told him that his hair smelled amazing. Savino called him an idiot and tried to ignore the heat creeping up his neck, and he also ignored Tolys’s chuckles at his expense.

Lithuania used his key to get into the house, and then they both helped a very intoxicated America climb up the staircase. It was a risky proposition, but they went slowly, and they managed to successfully navigate the staircase and only stumbled a couple of times.

Tolys’s bedroom was closer to the end of the hallway, so he slipped out from under Alfred’s arm and walked over to his bedroom door. America slumped into his side, and Romano grimaced at him.

“You’re way too fucking heavy for me to keep upright like this, idiota.”

“Mmm, sorry Vinny. But you’re real, real comfortable.” The arm that had been around his shoulders moved down to loosely embrace his waist, and Romano practically had a heart attack.

“Are you guys going to be okay on your own?” Tolys asked. His voice sounded concerned, and his face was drawn into a worried little frown.

“I can handle Al,” Savino assured him. “Go ahead and get some sleep.”

Lithuania nodded and entered his room, shutting the door behind him. America turned his head to smile at Romano with something he might have interpreted as lust if the idiot hadn’t been so wasted.

“So, we’re alone now.”

Savino narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you trying to say, bastardo?”

“Nothing bad.” Alfred giggled. “Well, maybe a little bad. I like being alone with you. I’ve wanted to be alone with you for a long, long time, honey.”

Romano swallowed heavily at the endearment, even though he knew it probably didn’t mean anything. America’s Southern accent tended to come out more when he was tired, and he was probably exhausted from all the drinks he’d consumed earlier. “That’s, umm…”

“I think you’re the bee’s knees.” Alfred squeezed his waist, and warning sirens went off in Savino’s head. “The things I’ve thought about doing with you, well… let’s just say they’d make a petting party look like a Sunday church gathering by comparison.”

Savino coughed and began to shuffle them down the hallway. “Let’s just get you back to your bedroom, okay?” He’d heard about those “petting parties,” and the last thing he needed was to imagine doing anything with Alfred that could make them seem as innocuous as church services. That was way too fucking distracting, and it’s not like he could act on any of those thoughts, especially not right now. America was so drunk that he was saying things he didn’t mean and would certainly regret in the morning, once the gin and whiskey wore off.

Alfred nodded and walked in step with him. “Makes sense. It would be a little odd to do that in the hallway right outside Lithuania’s bedroom.” America started laughing loudly at the idea, which was apparently hilarious to him.

Romano scowled. “That’s not what I meant, dipshit.”

Unfortunately, he must have said that too quietly for his drunken idiot of a friend to hear him. Because as soon as Romano opened the door, America eagerly pulled him inside and slammed the door shut with one hand. Before he could even get a syllable out to ask Alfred what the hell he was doing, Alfred pinned him up against the wall and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of him.

Savino should have instantly pushed Alfred away, but he didn’t. Because Alfred may have unceremoniously shoved his tongue in his mouth without warning, but he was a damn good kisser. Even his alcohol-soaked breath didn’t make Savino recoil, because he had been repressing the desire to kiss Alfred for years now, ever since that dumbass had taken the time to break down Savino’s walls and tried his best to help him feel useful and capable at a time when he really needed that. Once Romano had let America be his friend, wanting him as something more than a friend didn’t take very long.

So instead of shoving Alfred away as he should have, Savino let Alfred kiss him and whimpered pathetically into his mouth. His hands fisted the fabric of America’s suit jacket, but they unconsciously drew America closer instead of pushing him away.

It was only when America pressed his thigh in between Romano’s legs, way, way too close to his crotch, that Romano snapped back to his senses. He pushed Alfred away from him, and America stumbled backwards. America stared at him with a dazed expression, and his lips were parted in a way that probably wasn’t meant to be seductive, but still incredibly frustrating. Romano felt a turbulent cocktail of emotions, and they all came out as anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole?!”

America looked hurt. “I thought… when you said you’d take me back to my bedroom…”

“I meant I was taking you back here to sleep. Did you really think I was gonna have sex with you?! Why is that the only thing you can think about?!”

“It isn’t the only thing I can think about!” America was yelling, but there were tears in his eyes, and he sounded more heartbroken than angry. Romano felt like a shit heel. “But I really like you, and for a minute there I thought you liked me too! If I’d known how much you’d hate kissing me, I would’ve never tried to do that!”

Romano softened towards him. “I never said I hated it, Fredo.” In fact, he’d enjoyed kissing Alfred a lot more than he should have. But it didn’t matter how much Savino liked kissing him. It would be wrong to take advantage of Alfred when he was too drunk to think clearly and make decisions based on what he actually wanted.

America sniffled. “You didn’t have to say it. You made your feelings really, really clear. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.” He sat down on the edge of his bed, clasped his hands together, and bent his head like he was struggling not to cry.

Romano sighed and walked over to the bed to sit down next to him. “I know I call you an idiota sometimes, but I don’t mean that as a real insult. I don’t think you’re dumb, and I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression.”

“That’s not it. It’s just… I’m pretty young compared to you, and it’s not like I know what I’m doing when it comes to sex and all that stuff. I’ve never even done it with anybody before.”

Romano could feel himself blushing at the turn this conversation had taken. “If you’re a virgin, then why the hell were you so eager to have sex with me?”

“Because I like you. And not just ‘cause you’re gorgeous, though that’s definitely part of it. I think you’re funny, and smart, and way more talented than you give yourself credit for. And you’re one of my best friends. You mean so much to me, Savi.”

Savino still had his doubts. “You’re not just saying this because you’re wasted?”

America shook his head. “Nah. I just didn’t say it before ‘cause I was pretty sure you didn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.” He laughed hollowly. “Guess I’ve screwed that up, huh?”

Savino reached over to place his hand on top of Alfred’s. “It’s not your fault, caro. I wasn’t exactly being clear myself.” He paused, internally wrestling with his conscience, and then he decided to come clean to Alfred. “I don’t mind the idea of sleeping with you, and I did like kissing you. But I don’t want to hurt you by taking advantage of you when you’re like this. It wouldn’t be right.”

“But if I hadn’t been drinking?”

Romano squeezed his eyes shut. “If you hadn’t been drinking, I wouldn’t have stopped you, and it could’ve gone a lot further than kissing. I like you too, Alfredo.”

Alfred laughed, and when Savino opened his eyes, he could see his bright, stupidly beautiful grin. It didn’t seem like America would be crying any time soon. “I’m so happy right now. I thought for sure you were gonna hate me forever.”

“Well, I don’t.” Hating Alfred was the last thing on his mind.

Alfred bit his lower lip and glanced away from him. “I know you don’t want to do stuff with me when I’m drunk, but how do you feel about spending the night with me?”

“Spending the night with you?” Romano asked. He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing.

“Like sleeping in the same bed, with maybe some cuddling. Not that I don’t want to do other stuff, but to be honest, I’m too tired anyway.” Alfred yawned, which aptly demonstrated his point.

Romano rolled his eyes. “Won’t you freak out in the morning when I wake up in bed with you and you can’t remember why?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll probably just think I’m dreaming about you. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Romano sighed. “Alright. I’ll sleep in the same bed with you. But I’m only taking off my shoes.”

“Oh, yeah. I should probably do that too.”

Savino bent down to remove his shoes, and Alfred managed to kick his off without assistance. After shrugging off his suit jacket, Savino laid down on Alfred’s bed and stared up at him. Alfred quickly got out of his suit jacket and placed his glasses on the night stand. As soon as he laid down, America pulled him into a tight hug, and Romano chuckled into his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you’d be this clingy.”

Alfred dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “I just really like holding you, Vinny.”

“I like being held,” Savino admitted quietly. “At least when it’s you.” Normally, he would be reluctant to admit to feeling something so sappy, but he was safe here with Alfred. He relaxed enough to let his eyes drift closed.

“Well, good night, I guess. Love you.” Alfred took a deep breath, and then he began snoring lightly. He must have gone to sleep immediately after saying good night.

Romano hesitantly peeked his eyes open, and sure enough, America’s eyes were closed. Romano smiled to himself and closed his eyes too.

“Ti amo, Alfredo.” Within a couple of minutes, he dozed off in Alfred’s arms.

The next morning, Romano woke up in a different position. Apparently, they had shifted around in their sleep, and America was now spooning him. Somehow, America was still holding onto him just as tightly as he had when he’d fallen asleep the night before. Even moving around in the middle of the night couldn’t keep Alfred from snuggling him.

Alfred groaned from behind him. “Ugh, my head. Did I clear out the entire speakeasy’s bar last night?”

Savino snorted. “Hardly. You’re just a lightweight.”

“Vinny? What are you doing here?”

Alfred let go of him, and Savino shifted around to face him. But he seemed more confused than panicky. “I’m probably dreaming, right? I should check.” America pinched his arm and frowned afterwards. “Huh, that’s weird. It actually hurt.”

Romano smiled at him uneasily. “How much do you remember about last night?”

Alfred squinted at him. “Uhh, I’m pretty sure I tried to kiss you, and then you yelled at me. I’m not sure how that led to me waking up in the same bed with you.”

“I told you I had feelings for you too, but I didn’t want to take advantage of you while you were drunk. We didn’t have sex, but you did ask me to spend the night with you. All we did was cuddle, after you promised me you wouldn’t freak out when I woke up in the same bed with you. You’re not freaking out right now, are you?”

Alfred shook his head. “Nah, just kinda surprised.” He grinned. “Wait, did you just say you have feelings for me?”

“I… I think I might love you.” God, it was so nerve-wracking to tell America that while he was awake and sober.

“You’re so adorable when you blush like that! I love you too!” He started to lean in, and then he stopped about an inch away from Savino’s mouth. “Wait, are you cool with me kissing you when I’ve got morning breath?”

Savino cupped the back of Alfred’s neck and kissed him. He wrinkled his nose a little at both his and America’s morning breath, which wasn’t ideal, but at this point, Romano really didn’t care about stupid things like that. He kissed America just as thoroughly as he had been kissed yesterday, and when he pulled away, America looked absolutely wrecked by the kiss, which was a flattering and wonderful thing to see.

Alfred licked his lips. His voice came out gravelly. “You know, if you’re… uh, worried about taking advantage of me, I’m pretty sure I’m not drunk anymore. Just hungover. So if you wanted to, we could…” He trailed off, gaze going towards the bed.

Savino swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Are you sure? I mean, if you’re hungover, wouldn’t you rather have coffee? A shower?”

America smiled, and a blush spread down over his face down to the collar of his shirt. It might have gone down further, but at the moment, Romano couldn’t see.

“If I did take a shower, I don’t see why you couldn’t join me.”

While Romano was struggling to respond (because after what Alfred had said, he was struggling to breathe, damn it), America casually got out of the bed and started walking towards his adjoining bathroom suite. He began removing his shirt on the way, and Savino came to his senses and scrambled out of the bed and followed after Alfred.

If America didn’t see any reason why he should shower alone, then Romano didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t join him. He had avoided taking advantage of Alfred when he was intoxicated because he tried to be a decent human being, but he wasn’t going to pass up America handing him an opportunity like this on a silver platter. Alfred smirked at him over his shoulder, and Savino knew he had made the right decision.

[sunflowers-heart]

October 20th – Haunted Building

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Tauriel x Reader

Word count: 1,914

Warnings: None

Author’s note: I have literally no idea what happened here, this story practically wrote itself. :) Also, it takes place in modern setting!

You could still recall the excitement flowing through your veins like a molten gold, the sweet buzzing in your heart and the warm squeeze in your stomach when you finally heard the words you were dreaming about for so long now. It was hard to comprehend that they were not part of your wild imagination, nor another made up scenario you created in your head right before falling asleep—those were actually real. Her offer was honest and it was no kind of joke, you did not misunderstand anything from the very direct and simple invitation, it was no mistake.

Tauriel truly asked you to join her in the amusement park next Tuesday.

However, right when the very first wave of bliss eventually faded away, you started to worry and as the time passed, the anxiety growing in your mind seemed to expand, almost completely blinding the previous joy. Countless questions piled, one more ridiculous than another but every single one of them occupying your thoughts for longer than you would want it to. It was enough to be stressed about meeting with the prettiest, the most talented and charismatic girl in your university—or so you considered her—worrying about any other, more or less possible scenario happening during that day was unnecessary for your already cluttered head.

What if she did not mean only you two, but some of her other friends also? There were always people surrounding her, two particularly handsome and apparently polar opposite boys accompanying her more often than the others. What if it was supposed to be simply a group meeting? What if you would make a fool of yourself one way or another? And most importantly, what if she did not see you the same way you saw her?

You barely managed to fall asleep for the whole hour at least during the night before, now nowhere near excited but rather scared of what was coming up. It was either the best opportunity to finally start talking to her about something less trivial or to prove her that you were not worth her time. Your worry increased as the inevitable hour was getting closer and closer and it peaked when you were standing at the amusement park’s main gate.

Although the afternoon was chilly, there was a lot of people on the carousels, buying deliciously smelling snacks and running from one attraction to another in a hurry. The sky became dark some time ago but it only made all the decorations and lanterns light more brightly, the variety of sounds and colours surrounding you from every direction. Fallen leaves rustled on the wind, the trees reached their branches up like a shadowy claws of some nightmare creatures and the overwhelming aura of upcoming Halloween was visible in every single corner of the fair.

Still, all you could think of was her. What are you going to talk about? Will Legolas be there, too? Perhaps you should eat something before going out, your stomach was starting to grumble but the stress prevented you from eating anything quite successfully. You were present few minutes ahead of time (speaking of making a good first impression) and you felt like waiting for her will be the worst part of it all. Once you start to talk, things should go smooth from that point.

Right…?

“There you are!” Tauriel’s voice cut through the cacophony of mechanical melodies, children’s giggling and screams of those who dared to try the hammer ride, and it was both the most breath-taking and frightening moment of your life. Slowly, you spun around to face her and saw the gentle smile on her sharp features. “I started to worry you won’t come.”

Quick peek over her shoulder proved you that she had no company this time. Just you and her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You sighed with relief after your recent discovery. “I told you I’ll be here. Besides, I’d let you know beforehand if something happened.”

“I’m glad it didn’t then.” She looked at the booth you were standing next to and eyed the spooky themed candies before continuing. “Should we head to the main attraction of the day or do you want to buy something?”

Even though you liked the bat-shaped lollipop, you have forgotten about it already and agreed to go with her. The screams of those stuck on the rollercoaster did not create the most romantic mood but all you could think of was how picturesque her long hair looked in this peculiar scenery, ginger colour fitting her green blouse perfectly.

You wondered how would it feel to run your fingers through them.

The house of mirrors was an excellent choice for the first attraction to attend to, and you were proud that it was your idea to try it out. It was not as extreme as some rides and you had an opportunity to hear Tauriel laugh out loud, which happened to be yet another of her many advantages—her voice so carefree and fresh like a spring morning. Or maybe, you were simply growing too poetical around her.

“The labyrinth was fun,” she stated once you were out of the hall. “But I have to admit I lost the tracks at some point.”

“And why didn’t you tell me so? I told you I can find a way out just fine.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the great first impression. Plus, I was supposed to be the guide, right?” She winked at you.

“Next time I’m going to be the guide. No getting lost and certainly no mirrors which make your face look like a smashed potato.”

Tauriel chuckled and agreed with your words.

“Certainly. But you have to admit, the one which made us really tall was interesting. I suppose I could get used to being that tall.”

“It would suit you well,” you nodded and felt the next sentence leave past your lips before you managed to stop it. “And your adorable pointy ears.”

Tauriel suddenly stood still and reached her ears with the hands, replying to you before the wave of embarrassment managed to drown you completely:

“Do you really think they’re pointy?” She touched the tips, her expression unreadable.

Vaguely gesturing, you tried to desperately think of an answer which would not discredit you in her eyes.

“I think they’re pretty. A little bit pointy, yes, but I always thought it gives you this mystical look. Like an elf or something...” With every next word, your tone was becoming quieter, until you finished your sentence with a forced smile, hoping that you managed to convince her that you meant no harm.

For a moment, she did not answer you, instead tilting her head to the side and then lightening up, before saying:

“Well then, thank you for the compliment. Still, I believe they’re not even partly as ravishing as your eyes, my dear.”

Contrary to the previous idea, the one Tauriel came up with appeared as more concerning in your opinion. It was not the matter of being scared per se, but rather the possibility of doing something reckless in front of her. You wanted her to like you, to think of you as no less interesting than all the boys she was surrounded with, and even though you knew that you cared about her opinion way more than you should, it was impossible to stop. Not now, when your repressed feelings were finally finding a way out. It could be the only one opportunity to impress her and you were certainly not going to waste it on anxiety.

Or so you thought.

“It’s a really, really bad idea,” you whispered after crossing yet another corridor in the haunted house. “I don’t like it at all, it’s way too quiet.”

“It can only mean one thing,” Tauriel pointed out matter-of-factly. “Soon we’ll witness something spooky.”

Holding your breath, you did your best to not let the heart jump out of your ribcage. You were as close to Tauriel as possible, naturally, keeping in mind to not cross the line of her personal space. As much as you wanted to hold her hand, you were not sure if she would approve it. The corridor, on the other hand, seemed to be endless, decorated in fake webs, some splattered blood and other remotely disturbing decorations, none of which jumped on you all of a sudden.

The booth with candies was much more entertaining but right now there was no coming back, nor time to complain.

Tauriel stopped abruptly and placed a finger to her lips, only then pointing at the closed door you reached to. There was no way it was going to be simply a part of decorations, you admitted bitterly, surely you were being watched and had to experience a pitiful attempt to frighten you based on primal, human instincts and yet—

You did not expect for the hairy monster to jump at you so suddenly but even less did you expect Tauriel to grab your hand, shield you with her body and pull you after herself further into the corridor. From the perspective of running, all the stuffed creatures were not as scary as they could be if you paid the whole attention to them and even if you did, Tauriel’s fingers closed on your wrist were enough to make you focus on something completely, completely different.

She was holding your hand, Tauriel was holding your cold, clammy hand as you both ran through the haunted house, avoiding the jump scares and traps and laughing so hard that your stomach started to hurt. Maybe it was the nerves which made you act so ridiculously or maybe in that moment you were ironically the happiest person on the whole planet, when nothing but you two mattered—you, your connected hands and the silly run through the corridor full of plastic figures and eerie sounds.

No kind of love tunnel could bring as much adoration from you as the haunted house on that windy, autumn afternoon.

When you finally managed to find a way out, you noticed how Tauriel’s cheeks were slightly redden from the effort and emotions but the smile on her face still lasted and the spark of joy present in her gaze as she looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked and let go of your hand, muttering. “Sorry for your sleeve.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I suppose I’ve had enough for one day.”

“And for the rest of my life, too,” she admitted and noticing your puzzled expression, quickly added. “I’m not really fond of those places, you know. But I can’t say this idea wasn’t successful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing your knight in shining armour against that bear-like-whatever was quite entertaining.”

This time you were more than sure that she winked at you, there was no mistake, her playful expression proved that well.

“Oh…” you were speechless. “Well then, I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because next time I’m going to use my marvellous skills with a bow and arrow to slay the dragon. But first, what would my princess say for a cup of mulled wine?”

You allowed her fingers to meet yours in a delicate grasp, when you slowly headed back to the food booths, all the anxiety leaving you as soon as you felt the cold air on your skin and Tauriel’s hand upon yours once again.

“She’d like that,” you nodded. “Very much so.”

[eryiss]

Chapter Seven - The Shutdown

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. There's descriptions of emotional repression in this chapter, so be aware of that. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Seven – The Shutdown

This was pathetic, and Freed knew it.

He was a grown man. He was a lawyer. He was a well-respected member of society who had earned his place on multiple occasions. And yet, apparently, this was what he had resorted to. Switching off his phone while glaring at it, locking himself in his apartment, and refusing to speak to anyone who might want to talk. He had shut himself off completely, like a fucking teenager who didn't know how to handle his emotions.

Which, other than him not being a teenager, was accurate. Because all of this ridiculous behaviour that Freed hated himself for doing – that he couldn't stop himself from doing – was all because he didn't know what to do about what he was feeling.

And he was feeling. He was feeling a lot.

It was something that only added to his annoyance because Freed wasn't an overly emotional person. He was pragmatic, and allowed his feelings to be put to the side to focus on greater tasks. He'd lived his entire life that way, and had done so to great success and happiness, and yet now he felt as though he was fucking drowning in these feelings. In the feelings that he couldn't quantify or push to the side or ignore. And the pure amount of them, the ferocity with which they had hit him, and range of different feelings was just so awful. He couldn't deal with it.

So, he did what he always did when he was overwhelmed. It didn't happen often, and usually only when he was taking on a case that was more troublesome than he had expected, but he had techniques in place that usually helped. He wrote a list of everything that was overwhelming him.

Confusion – He had always lived in Era, and his life resolved around the city. It was confusing to feel so drawn to Magnolia, a place so contrasting to what he knew.

Annoyance – He knew that he wanted Magnolia to be a larger part of his life, but wouldn't say it out loud. His pride was getting in the way, but he couldn't push past it to be honest about his wants.

Anger – He should have spoken to Laxus. He shouldn't have let him go after… what had happened. Because they hadn't spoken since Laxus had left, two weeks ago. And he missed him, more than he could admit to himself. He missed him so much.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have goaded Laxus into a flirtatious competition.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have left the house and gone to the carnival to see Laxus.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have gotten allowed his stupid crush to become more than that.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have let Laxus be anything other than a workman to him.

Anger – Because why couldn't he speak his goddamn mind when it came what he was feeling?

He sighed, slamming his pen onto his desk, and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. He looked down at the list with an annoyed expression because it had done exactly what it was meant to do. It had highlighted the greater problem that was worrying Freed, and it was all very clear as to what was actually troubling him. As he always did after finishing a list, he wrote a final point to clarify what was actually happening, and he sighed at his own words.

Attraction – He was drawn to Laxus in a way that he couldn't control. He didn't know what to do with this attraction, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was trapped by it.

And for Freed, a man whose emotions had never been an issue, it was concerning.

Worse still, a lot of their time spent together seemed to be cast in a new light now. All of Freed's insistence that Laxus teach him new skills, perhaps that was just a way to get closer to him more often. Their shared meal and the private revelations of their childhoods, maybe that was how Freed was making his relationship with Laxus more personal. The time they spent at the carnival, before the incident after the dunk tank, might have been Freed getting a date from Laxus without even knowing it.

It all made Freed feel rather sick.

One worrisome thought was that he might have manipulated Laxus into friendship unknowingly. But Laxus wasn't that good of an actor, and he seemed to genuinely like Freed. Though that could be because Freed was his boss, and he wanted to get a good reference at the end of their working relationship.

A sharp nocking sound echoed through Freed's empty apartment, cutting off that thought.

He didn't move to answer it, of course. With seemingly a million and one random and predominantly negative thoughts hitting him every second, he wasn't in the mood to greet visitors. The idea of pretending to be happy sounded exhausting, and Freed would much rather gather his thoughts on his own. Though, in reality he would probably try and fail to gather his thoughts, only to be angry at himself for failing, and he'd end up sleeping while enraged.

"If you are not dead in there, I will kill you!" Evergreen yelled, slamming the door again.

"That means she's worried," Another voice followed, lighter sounding than Evergreen's. Bickslow. "But also kinda murderous, so open the door."

Freed sighed, moving from his desk and walking towards the door. Out of everyone he knew, Freed would feel the least amount of guilt for not being polite and engaged with the two of them. And it was entirely possible that if Freed didn't open the door quickly, Evergreen would take it off its hinges. He didn't even know how they'd gotten into the building without having him buzz the door open.

When he opened it, he felt a small flush of guilt overtake him. Bickslow, who was normally grinning wider than Freed thought possible, had a concerned expression. Evergreen was hovering between anger and worry. Freed almost didn't understand the expression, but Evergreen made it easy for him.

By punching him in the chest, then hugging him.

"Motherfucker," She grunted into Freed's chest, and he looked down at her with a frown. He considered speaking, but thought against it. "I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because you've been missing for like four days, man," Bickslow said as he walked into Freed's apartment and closed the door; apparently they were staying. "You wouldn't answer your phone or any emails. Normally it feels like you reply to things before we manage to send them," He shrugged. "We wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Well," Freed said slowly. "I am."

"Then I can punch you again," Evergreen grunted, removing herself from Freed's body and slamming her fist into his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Freed turned and walked back to his desk. "You know I'm okay, so is there anything else you need?"

Freed knew his friends well, and even though he had turned his back away from them, he knew they'd be exchanging looks in place of a conversation, and it annoyed Freed when his suspicions were confirmed in the window's reflection. He understood that they were worried, and he understood that they were probably angry at him for how he was acting now that they knew he was okay, but they could at least be subtle.

And why were they treating him like a child? He had known and worked with them both for years, and surely he'd proven himself to be a capable adult hundreds of times by now. For heavens sake, when they'd all been in the same office, Freed had always been the project manager. Self-appointed too. But apparently wanting some time alone meant the respect that he had earned had completely gone, and instead had been replaced by a patronising level of care from his friends. His friends who had barged their way into his house uninvited, and were now clearly talking about him behind his back, expecting him to be okay with it.

"I'd like to be left alone," Freed stated, turning to face his friends again. "So if you're going to act like I'm not here, then you might as well leave."

"Come on Freed," Bickslow sighed, and Freed stiffened slightly.

His tone was almost exhausted, as if this was a regular and tedious occurrence. Which it wasn't. This was abnormal, something that Freed had never done before, and he would hope that his friends might respect his wishes about the situation. He was about to voice this annoyance when Evergreen spoke.

"Laxus texted me," She stated, and his eyes flickered over to her.

"Saying what, exactly?" He said slowly, the demand clear. He didn't know what Laxus had thought of the situation, whether he had noticed Freed slightly leaning in when they were face to face, and frankly he was a little scared of what Evergreen was about to say.

"That you didn't leave on the best terms, and that you didn't go back to Magnolia over the weekend," She said, sitting on Freed's sofa and staring him down. "He said you didn't fight, but you've been ignoring his calls. So, what happened?"

"I don't see why I should tell you," Freed walked to his kitchen. He got himself a glass of water, not offering anything to the two of them. He hoped they would understand the passive-aggressive message behind it.

"Because it's making you act like an-"

"What she means is," Bickslow interrupted. "That if you tell us what happened, then we might be able to help out with it. Make you feel a little better."

"I don't need you to make me feel better."

"You need something, baby," Bickslow sighed, looking at Freed with an annoyingly honest smile. It cracked a little at Freed's anger, as Bickslow mostly was exaggerative with his emotions, not honest. "Because, whatever you're doing right now, it's not like you. And it doesn't look very healthy."

Freed looked to where Bickslow was looking, and huffed. It was his trash can, around which were discarded remains of takeout food.

"So I'm no longer allowed to order food for myself?" He snapped.

"Of course you are," Evergreen placated him. "But you always cook for yourself, you always have. It'd be weird for you if you ordered takeout once a week, and this is a lot more than once a week," She sighed as she caught Freed's rolled eyes. "Look, we know it's only a little thing. But you're isolating yourself and not dealing with whatever the problem is, and that's not like you. And if something's affecting you that much, then we just thought that maybe we could help you with it. Even if it's just talking it out together."

"And we can go, if you want," Bickslow continued. "But I think it'd be best if we stayed."

Freed was silent, then huffed quietly. "Tea or coffee?"

After he had prepared them their drinks, and some further light convincing from the two of them, he began to explain what had happened. He only described what he needed to: that he had slowly been getting closer to Laxus over their time together, and that he had been developing a crush. That he felt a draw to Laxus that he couldn't understand, and it was sometimes making things uncomfortable for him.

Then he explained what had happened at the carnival. How he'd been angry, and he'd instinctively gone to Laxus to change that. How they'd spent the afternoon together, doing something very close to flirting. How he'd challenged Laxus to a ridiculous game, and what had happened because of it.

How they'd nearly kissed.

How Laxus had basically fled.

"So," Evergreen spoke up again after Freed had finished. "You did something you regret, and you're embarrassed?"

"Yes, because I'm a child" Freed agreed sarcastically.

"Everyone gets embarrassed Freed, not just kids," Bickslow sighed. "But I don't think that's why you're acting like this. I think the real issue is that you were embarrassed, but it didn't bother you as much as it normally would," Freed's brow furrowed slightly, and Bickslow continued. "You almost forgot to be embarrassed because it didn't matter. You were more worried about the things you did than the situation itself. You only felt embarrassed about it when you had time to think, and that's not normal for you."

"When did you become a psychologist?" Evergreen mumbled.

"Sorry, I just spent a lot of time around them now, with work. It's interesting stuff," Bickslow chuckled to himself, patting Freed's leg. "What I'm trying to say is, I think this is one of the first time's you've kind of wanted to be vulnerable for someone. That you've actually felt that it might be worth it, and it's messing you up a bit."

"I," Freed said slowly. "I suppose that might be possible. It's true that relationships aren't an area of expertise. It's possible that might be a… contributing factor."

"You should talk to him," Evergreen suggested. "It's probably the best way to get past this."

"We nearly kissed one another, and we haven't spoken to each other since then," Freed deflected at the idea, hand wrapping tightly around the mug of tea in his hand. "And he walked away from me the moment it happened. He's hardly enthusiastic about the situation."

"He was overwhelmed," Evergreen exclaimed. "I had to stop him from taking the train up here when he found out we hadn't heard from you for days," Freed scoffed a little at that. "Freed, did it really not occur to you that he might be just as crappy with his emotions as you, he just sucks in a different, more subtle way?"

Freed didn't answer that.

With his lack of an answer, the room fell into an uncomfortable quiet. Freed was now glaring down at his tea, gripping it tightly as a rush of annoyance ran over him. Because, not only had Evergreen and Bickslow acted as if they knew his mind better than he did, but they were also trying to tell him that Laxus might have nearly kissed him as well. It was angering, because even if it was true, they were missing the point.

Laxus wasn't someone Freed could get into a relationship with; he just wasn't. Not only was the man his employee, and therefore dating him would be a large conflict of interest, but he also lived three hours away in a place that was the direct antithesis of Era. As cliché as it was, they were from different worlds.

He had a feeling that, if he said any of that out loud, they'd say he was making excuses.

Maybe he was.

"There's something else we want to talk to you about, too," Evergreen spoke again, and her voice had a cautious edge to it that caught Freed's attention. Pre-emptively, he found himself getting defensive. "We've been talking, and we know it's not your favourite thing to talk about but…"

"The last time we saw you acting like this," Bickslow continued. "It was when your dad died."

"What are you implying?" Freed asked sharply.

"We just thought that maybe the reason you've become so," Evergreen thought for a moment, clearly trying to think of a word that wouldn't antagonise Freed. It probably wouldn't work. "Closed off might be because you don't know how to deal with the fact that she's… gone."

"For god's sake," Freed grunted. "Why are you both so insistent that her death is going to destroy me in some way? I am fine."

And he was. He was perfectly fine. Yes, his mother had died a few months ago, but that didn't mean that Freed had to become an inconsolable mess. That wasn't going to happen with Freed, especially considering how he and his mother had been drifting apart, more so after his father had died. And even if they hadn't separated from one another, it didn't mean that Freed was going to have some kind of break down months after the event. That wasn't something that more emotional people went through, so why the hell did they think Freed would?

It was infuriating to think about, now that he was. The fact that the people closest to him in the world were now trying to instil some kind of grief as an explanation for his behaviour. His behaviour that, in his mind, wasn't even that bad. There had been a bad situation, he took a step back from it and tried to calm himself down. If they thought it was an unhealthy way to deal with it, that was their issue.

"We're worried that you're refusing to talk about something," Bickslow insisted. "We don't want you to be dealing with something bad on your own."

"Well that would be quite difficult given you don't seem to be leaving me alone," Freed snapped.

"Come on man," Bickslow sighed. "You don't need to get-"

"So, just allow me to clarify what's happening," Freed spoke quickly, standing up and pacing. He needed to move. "You came here after speaking to Laxus about me behind my back. Now you're here, with your own ideas about why I'm behaving in a way that you believe is antisocial and unhealthy. You then make me explain the situation in detail, then essentially explain my own feelings to me despite the fact neither of you have a damn clue about what's happening in my mind," Freed was breathing hard now, finger running over his palm and jaw tight. "And now you're ignoring all of that, and trying to bring attention to my mother's death for some reason, despite the fact that you've heard me say that I am fine multiple times."

"Freed," Evergreen said patiently – as if he were a child. Why were they treating him like this! "Maybe you should take a few minutes to-"

"You'd already concluded that my supposed 'shut down' was because of my mother's death, correct? You'd probably spoke about it together before coming here," Freed continued, anger rising still. "So why even mention Laxus? Is it just so you can continue the trend of being overly invasive in my life? The moment you realised I was befriending someone around my age who happened to be my type, you started asking pointless questions and making irritating jokes. Perhaps you just wanted more gossip and saw an opportunity."

"Okay, you're not in the best of moods, I understand," Bickslow sighed, standing up. "Maybe we should go."

"You should," Freed snapped.

"Fine," Evergreen muttered, seemingly annoyed herself now. "But turn your fucking phone on, and if Laxus calls you again then answer, because he's worried," She walked to the door, but turned before leaving. "And when you wanna call us and apologise for that last remark, I'll be waiting."

She left the apartment, huffing. Bickslow sighed, patted Freed on the shoulder with a promise of texting him later, before leaving as well.

Freed deflated slightly, falling into his desk chair while his leg jumped up and down with anxious energy. He ran a hand over his face and spun towards his desk, only to be confronted with the sight of the list he had wrote down earlier. And now, after what his friends had said, it was painfully clear that he had missed one thing that he was feeling more than anything else.

'Fear – I don't want to be alone.'

~~~

He'd fallen asleep not long after, curling onto his leather sofa, and drifting off with ease. The sudden rush of adrenaline that had accompanied his anger had deflated not soon after Bickslow and Evergreen had left. It was interesting to know that, after a volatile emotional outburst, you had an overwhelming urge to sleep.

In this situation, you also felt an overwhelming urge to apologise.

Because Bickslow and Evergreen were his friends, and always had been. They weren't the type of people to conspire against him, especially not for something as small as a damn piece of gossip about his relationship with Laxus.

In retrospect, this was entirely obvious. They were good people, and clearly had his best interests at heart. They'd come to his apartment because they were worried about him and they wanted to make sure he was okay, find out what was bothering him, and offer their advice. But, in the moment, he had felt almost attacked by the two of them, as if they were ganging up on him. He had gotten defensive and fought back against what he considered an attack on him.

Now, it felt stupid. And he felt guilty.

Phoning Evergreen would have been the first thing he did after waking up, had it not been his ringing phone being the reason he woke. He took a few second to realise what the sound was, and reached out for his phone from his coffee table; he'd turned the device back on after Evergreen and Bickslow had left. He'd seen a lot of missed texts and calls from his friends when he had.

Incoming Call: Laxus Dreyar

He reached for the mug on the table, drinking down the remainder of his now very cold tea. It woke him up slightly, and he answered the call with a small amount of nervousness filling him. They hadn't spoke since the carnival, and Freed didn't know how to deal with the situation.

"Oh, hey," Laxus voice filled Freed's ears. He sounded worried, and Freed frowned. It wasn't nice to know that he was probably to blame for that. "I didn't expect you to answer."

"Well, Evergreen said you were worried," Freed murmured, looking out his window. It was late evening now.

"Yeah, I was," Laxus agreed.

Freed almost sighed, wondering if he would have been able to admit that so openly. With Laxus, maybe he could have.

"She texted me earlier," He continued, and Freed heard a slight shifting from the phone. He absently wondered what he was doing. A ridiculous thought made worse because, if it weren't for his pride, he would have been with Laxus at that moment. "Apparently when she and Bickslow went to your place to talk to you, you kinda exploded at them."

He said that with a slight laugh in his voice, and it grated on Freed's nerves. "I don't appreciate the fact you're talking about me behind my back."

"You kicked your best friends out of your apartment," Laxus said tiredly. "We're just-"

"How did your even get her phone number?" Freed spoke over him, standing up again. "She came to Magnolia once and you spoke for about five minutes at the most."

"She added me on Facebook," Laxus explained.

"So you're not actually texting, then, are you?" Freed demanded, unaware as to why exactly he was so bothered by this little detail. But he was, and the whispered 'fucks sake' from the other side of the phone didn't help his mood. "You're actually using the messenger app, aren't you? Not the texting app. So you haven't been texting one another, you've been messaging each other. Which is a different thing."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it does, everything matters," Freed snapped. "Details are important to me, Laxus. I need to know the entire story before I can get involved. And if you-"

"Fucks sake," Laxus spoke loudly. "Will you stop fucking talking."

And he did.

"Look, I get that you ain't in a good mood, and that you probably don't wanna deal with me right now. But tough shit. You kept saying you're okay, and that you don't wanna be treated with kid gloves right?" Laxus demanded, and stupidly Freed nodded. "Well that's what I'm gonna do. So we're gonna talk, we're gonna discuss what happened, and I'm gonna make sure you get over it somehow. Because I wasn't happy when you started avoiding me, and I'm sure as hell not letting you ghost your friends and yell at them if it's because of something I did."

"I don't wish to speak about it."

"Well too fucking bad," Laxus retorted. "We're talking about it. So whenever you're ready, we're gonna start."

Despite his annoyed tone, Freed felt that Laxus was allowing him a kindness by letting him start the conversation. At least this way, he was allowed to frame the events in what way he wanted. He was also allowed some time to think, which he desperately needed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and gathered his thoughts before speaking again.

He needed to be honest. Bickslow had been right in that he felt inexplicably comfortable being vulnerable around Laxus, and he needed to take advantage of that.

"I can be obtuse, at times," Freed confessed. "And sometimes I feel compelled to do things that some people might consider… abnormal. For the most part I'm rather strict about it, but with you, I don't know, you sort of have an effect on this filter I've made. Most of the time you probably won't notice, but I doubt I would have asked to be taught plumbing and electrics from anybody else."

"There's nothing wrong with following your instincts," Laxus said calmly, and Freed felt a little struck by the sudden comfort in his voice. "Especially when it comes to what you wanna do."

"Perhaps," Freed agreed, slightly unwillingly. "But, with what happened between us, it shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have…"

Freed paused. He had to say it. Had to say that he shouldn't have leant in to kiss Laxus. He shouldn't have flirted with him for an afternoon. He shouldn't have gotten so close to him despite knowing both his growing feelings and that a relationship between the two of them would be inappropriate and perhaps impossible.

"…I shouldn't have made you play the game when you clearly didn't want to. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes, angry at himself now. Why could be not just say what he felt!

"Okay," Laxus said softly, almost as if to himself. "You don't need to feel guilty; about anything that happened. I mean, I wanted to do it too, even if I didn't make it obvious on the day."

The way Laxus was speaking, putting emphasis on certain words, made Freed pay attention. Laxus had perhaps understood that what Freed had meant to apologise for wasn't what he actually said. If that was true, then Laxus had decided that he was going to spare Freed the embarrassment of the situation and instead use the dunk tank as a metaphor. Freed was incredibly thankful, and also almost touched, by the gesture.

"I feel like I pressured you into it," Freed confessed. "That you might have thought I'd actually hold my position against you if you didn't do what I said."

"Freed, I ain't the kind of guy to be intimidated like that. If I thought you were genuinely doing that, I probably would have punched you or something," Laxus said, voice serious enough to calm Freed slightly. "And the fact is, I got up there myself, nobody forced me to do it. I knew the risks and didn't care about it. That was my choice."

A flashed memory of Laxus and Freed's faces being so close, so tantalisingly close flashed into Freed's mind. He reddened slightly at the thought.

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, needing confirmation.

"The only thing about that day that I regretted was leaving the way I did," Laxus said, with honesty in his voice. He then let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe I regret not seeing that the guy running the dunk tank had a towel that I could have used."

"I probably should have told you about that," Freed chuckled quietly.

"You saw it?" Laxus sounded aghast, probably exaggerating his annoyance to calm Freed "Bastard."

"I suppose so," Freed nodded, self-deprecatingly.

"So, are you gonna stop beating yourself up about this now that you know my side?" Laxus asked, voice sounding hopeful now. "Because you've been freaking me out not being here, I've had almost two weeks without smartass comments coming from you," He laughed, before adding honestly. "I missed ya."

"I missed you too," Freed confessed. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to worry you again."

"You don't need to apologise," Laxus assured him. "Well, not to me. Ever might disagree with that."

Freed laughed softly at that, knowing full well that he would have to apologise profusely to his friend very soon. It would most likely be accompanied by a large amount of sucking up to her, to get her favour again. Which of course he would do, because he loved the woman, as antagonising and gossipy as she could be. Though he would have to talk to her about her conversations about him behind his back, as Freed still felt like that was quite invasive.

"Can I- d'you mind if I say something that might be outta line?" Laxus spoke again.

"Of course," Freed said, frowning to himself.

"I think you should move to Magnolia," Laxus rushed his words out slightly, and spoke again before Freed could process what he said. "Not permanently, but maybe until the house is done. I mean you have a place to live there, so it won't cost anything, and I think it could be good to you to get away from Era for a few months."

"You… want me to move to Magnolia?" Freed echoed.

"I know you don't like talking about this, but I think it'll be the only way to come to terms with what happened with your mother," Laxus continued, and Freed went to speak. Laxus got there first. "I get you don't want sympathy, and I'm not giving it to you. But I get what it's like to lose your mother, and have everyone around you expecting you to act in a certain way. It's like they want you to feel sad all the time, and it's like your failing at grief if you're not. People don't get that, but I do."

Freed understood that. Peoples expectations of his grief had bothered him for months.

"W my mom died, I didn't wanna be the sad kid with a dead mom," Laxus sighed. "I did everything I could not to be that kid. But I didn't know what the hell to do, so I just kept going like I was normal. I went to school, I cussed out teachers, I beat kids up. I thought I was fine because everything I was doing was what I normally did. And when I got kicked out, and I lost that structure, I had to get used to who I was now, without her. I couldn't pretend I was who I was before losing her, and had to deal with it."

"So," Freed said after a moment's thinking. "You believe that it would be best for me to leave my normal life so I can… come to terms with her death," He surmised. "Doesn't that seem like I'm running away from the problem?"

"You ain't running away from anything. You're not the type," Laxus had a small smile in his voice. "What you'd be doing is letting yourself grow into the person you are without her, rather than clinging to who you were before."

Freed was silent for a moment, before letting out a single laugh. "You therapist was smart, wasn't she?"

"She was," Laxus agreed.

"Annoying though," Freed continued.

"Definitely," Laxus laughed, before speaking softly. "You're gonna consider it then?"

"I will," Freed nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good," Laxus smiled. "Now, let's talk about you not mentioning the towel to me."

With the joke, Freed felt his relationship to Laxus normalise again. He could almost cry with the relief that flooded through him.