#my brain is just in a million and one places currently and trying to narrow that scope to writing is not working

[marymycete]

forgive me if I've been exceptionally slow at doing anything for the past week, my anxiety has been out of control since my seasonal job ended and I'm trying to bring it under control without falling into treating this blog like a job

[reddesires]

Magnetic

Logan Howlett x Mutant Reader

Summary: There's only one way of satisfying your undying curiosity of finding out whether or not those fridge magnets will stick to the one and only Wolverine, who just happens to have an adamantium skeleton.

A/N: There may or may not be a continuation of this, idk yet.

It first started off as mere curiosity, the fact of knowing Logan's skeleton was enveloped by pure metal on the forefront of your brain.

Your eyes would constantly wander to the fridge that was decorated by various colorful magnets by the students, the cat and and the multicolored alphabet letters, especially catching your attention.

The growing need to know if those magnets would stick to Logan or not was just too irresistible to refuse as you snatch the grumpy cat magnet from the fridge door, examining the narrowed green eyes on the face of black feline. Yeah, it reminded you very much of the rugged mean mugging man who was all too unaware of your devious intentions.

Logan was used to your teasing antics of playing with his tufts of hair whenever you got the chance or somehow discovering all the new hiding places he hides his beer in, just to hide them elsewhere (he thinks it's your sixth sense at this point). He feels as if he's always on his toes when it comes to you, your mutation aiding you in somehow bypassing his enhanced senses, you find great joy in sneaking up on him when he least expects it.

So when you casually walk in the room that he's in with your hands behind your back with a feign, innocent look on your face, his eyes narrow suspiciously. “Oh hey Lo! Didn't expect to see you here!” The lilt in your voice and the sway of your body as you walk over only cause him to tense as he sits up straight, his eyebrow raising in question.

“You know I usually sit here,” his voice trails off as his eyes trail up and down, analyzing your body movement. “You're up to something.” You grin immediately, a laugh bubbling up as you round the table as if you're trying to corner him, and he doesn't waste time standing and quickly rounding the table from you.

“Hey, don't make me spill my beer,” He says warily, holding his beer up by the neck of the bottle. You smile deviously as you slowly trail along the side of the table, still holding the mystery item behind your back and he doesn't like how you're looking at him as he mimics your movements ready to bolt to the exit any second. “Okay, we're playing that game.”

He exhales exasperatedly as he immediately swerves and runs out the door, holding his beer securely as he hears you run after him. “Logan! Get back here!” The laugh in your voice is mischievous and he doesn't trust you as the two of you run past Jean and Ororo, they look after the both of you surprised as they never expected Logan to run away from you of all people.

“Get em, girl!” Ororo cheers as they watch you round the corner after Logan, he's trying to lose you by running in front of innocent students and taking unexpected turns and it isn't long for you to have him cornered.

“Aye, have mercy.” He says your name with defeat as he clutches his beer to his chest, he somehow managed to save it from even spilling a drop during the chase and it makes you giggle as you step forward building the anticipation before getting to him, and he only watches with a close eye as you do. Only when you're within an inch from him, your face almost intimately close to his, do you notice his adam's apple bob up and down with trepidation, his eyes fluttering slightly as he's aware of how close you are to him.

You slap the magnet onto his face.

He blinks once then twice as the magnet sticks securely on to his cheek. You gasp with unadulterated joy, a cheer pulled out of you as your curiosity has finally been fulfilled.

“It does stick! Oh, this is gonna be so fun!” His face falls as he realizes what this concurs. He's become your magnetic plaything as he remembers the millions of magnets that are currently adorned on the fridge door.

“No, don't you think about it.” He grumbles as he pulls the magnet off his cheek, the crabby cat image only intensifying his dismay for your new upcoming hobby. “Oh Wolvie, it's all I can think about.” You tease as you gently squeeze his cheek, walking away feeling rejuvenated.

[alexa-fika]

Locked Database ( Mihawk x f!reader x Crocodile)

A/N yoooooo, I spent yesterday and today makind this, got stuck a lot but I was determined to make it happened. This one is darker than what you guys are used from me but I wanted feedback that part of me a little bit. Million thanks to @quinloki and @💧Anon for giving me inspiration and ideas for this 👀.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha as a place holder which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“You sure stand out, don’t you, Mr. President?” Crocodile growled, shoving the newly distributed paper on Buggy’s Throat

“It wasn’t me, I swear,” he cries

“Then how the hell do you explain it?” He said, sending a swift kick his way, ignoring the pain-filled groan that escaped him.

“I should kill you for that, clown,” he said, inching his hook closer to his neck, pausing as a knife was sent his way, passing right through his sandy body.

Mihawk continued sipping on his wine as a knife was sent his way, simply edging away slightly to avoid it, yellow irises narrowing at a woman standing before them

“Leave him alone,” she growls, a pistol drawn and pointed their way

“Dokucha” Cries Buggy

“Mr.1,” Crocodile calls, dismissedly

“Let him go,” she demanded, breath hitching as an arm wrapped around her neck, a sharp edge to it.

“Drop the weapon,” a voice grumbled behind her.

She grits her teeth, complying as the hold around her tightened, the blade digging into her skin.

“Who are you?” Crocodile asks, raising an eyebrow when his question goes unanswered.

Mihawk takes notice of this and places his wine down, and in one swift movement, takes hold of Yoru and places the sharp edge against Buggy’s neck

“Stop!” She said, trying to make a run towards him being held back by the person behind her

“Who are are you?” Mihawk Drawls

“…”

He quirks a brow at this, digging his sword closer to the Buggy, receiving a whine from the severed head

“Im his sister,” she growls

“Of this clown?” Mihawk inquires, glancing at her

“Dokucha, don’t! You moron, get out of here!” The clown pleads

“Not without you.”

“Wonder if selling you into slavery will be able to get me back all the money this one owes me.”

“Don’t touch h- Agh,” he groans as Crocodile tightens his hold on him

“Perhaps the money she gets us will be enough so we don’t have to sell you, then we can kill you here and now.”

“W-Wait” she exclaims

“You’re starting to annoy me.”

“You said you were starting a new business, right?”

He hums, gesturing to the person behind them

She sighs as the person releases her

“I'm a prodigy at statistics and economy.” She starts

“I have the ability of a devil fruit aiding me as well, makes me a human database, I can calculate in seconds, provide prognostics just as fast, I can reach valuable contacts, gather the information you can only imagine, run enough statistics to power enterprises ”she continued, getting on her knees in front of them

“I know he is an idiot, but he is still my brother; please spare him. I will work for your company; I can easily raise it and make it a formidable force, so please don’t kill my brother.” she spoke bowing her head

Mihawk takes a glance over at the begging woman

“Come here.”

She looked up at the swordsman, slowly getting up and approaching the men

“If you truly are related to this one, then you have to prove your worth,” Crocodile said, pulling out a paper and handing it to her

“These are the current funds we have. Thanks to your brother, we also have the investments we must make for the guild. Tell me how you would make it work.”

She gingerly took the paper and looked it over, her brain beginning to perform calculations, pulling information and strategies from the network, trying to find the best fit

“Well?”

“First, I would take into account the possible outcomes and expenses of these upcoming investments and create an estimated balance sheet of the income and expenses that will be generated as opposed to current investments. After that, I will assess the risk that will be involved with each expected investment and determine the expected rate of return. Additionally, I will create a comprehensive budget and forecast for expected revenues and expenses to ensure that the guild has enough resources to carry out its operations while remaining solvent. I would move funds between areas they are more needed in, I would eliminate funds given to man-power and employees to the guild; my brother has no shortage of workers, so that is something the funds should not be wasted in," she rambles

Crocodile stares at her for a few seconds until an ominous laugh escapes him

“Well, Well, seems one of the siblings is actually competent.” He stays with a grin, letting out a cloud of smoke

“Why would a smart thing like you sacrifice yourself for him?”

“Are you deaf? He is my brother, an idiot, but still my brother; I'm not leaving him to die to the likes of you.”

“That so?”

“Yes,” she growls

He hums, sending a kick to the body in front of him, the smile growing on his face at the painful whines that escaped Buggy as he did so

“Why would you do that?!” She cries, bending down to help her brother, only to stop as a sword is placed at her neck, silently urging her to rise again

She throws a glance at Mihawk as she slowly stands up again

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t appreciate the tone you are taking; if memory serves me correctly, You were the one who got on their knees begging for mercy, and we heard your plea, and in return, you insulted us?” He spoke, raising Yoru and letting a small smile as Dokucha tried to rise with it to avoid being nicked

“Don’t touch her, please! Spare her!”

Crocodile grunts, growing tired of the bluehead’s whines and sending his hook smashing to his temple, knocking him out

“Buggy!” Dokusha cried, hissing when the sword dug into her skin as she tried to step closer to her brother

“Now we can have a talk without that clown interrupting,” Crocodile spoke, letting out another train of smoke escape him

“Need I remind you that you are not the one at the advantage here, Darling?” he began leaning back

“You are outwitted, outnumbered, and outpowered; you stand no chance to leave of this unharmed, much less that brother of yours; we decided to hear your deal out but never said we would agree.”

“…”

“You certainly are an asset, and now that we know what you are capable of, we can’t allow you to leave.”

“We will spare his life; we will let him become the figurehead of crossguild, make him the scapegoat.” Mihawk continues

“A coward like him is sure to obey without complaint, especially with you in the picture. But that also brings us to you,” Crocodile spoke, looking at her mockingly. Turning to one of his subordinates and began to mutter some orders to them

“Eyes on me,” Mihawk called, pulling her attention away from the scarred man and back to him

“Seems you have more common sense and pride than him, but don’t forget where you stand.”

She grits her teeth, holding back her tongue from snapping back at him, knowing that no matter what she said, no matter what came out her mouth, he was not wrong. Her ability was the only thing keeping her alive and on their radar; she wasn’t and probably would never be a significant threat to the two Warlords.

He smiles at this

“Down,” he orders

“I ‘m not a damn mutt.”

“Yes, a dog wouldn't be this much trouble to train,” he muses

“You da-

“Down, girl,” he repeats, a firmer tone in his voice

She glares at him as she eventually does as he wants and kneels on the ground in front of them

“That will do,” she hears Crocodile mutter as the subordinate returns with something in his hands; she tries to turn to asses what the item

Was but was stopped by the sword again

“Eyes on me,” the swordsman repeats

“You have no idea what you are dealing with,” she sneers

“We do. Thanks to your pleas and little demonstration we do, and that’s why we will take precautions,” the familiar voice of Crocodile rumbles behind her; before she jad time to register his words, the sound of something snapping, and the slight weight on her shoulders answer her question

“You have quite the ability; we can’t have you trying to communicate with someone who would create a problem for us or divulging important information, so from now on, we get to decide when and how you use that devil fruit of yours.”

A feeling of dread envelops her as she tries to enter her mindscape only to be unable to find anything

“Sea stone,” Crocodile confirms

“As I said, we get to decide when and how you use it from now on, little Plover.”

“So let’s talk about what is going to happen now”

This just makes me feel some sorta waaay, what are we thinking @quinloki i, @💧anon? I am having the time of my life with this one 😂. So proud of that last part with Mihawk, really like how it turned out. Also ya’ll if that small statistic/economy talk din’t make any sense it’s because I have no idea what the hell im talking about 😂 I just used fancy words I heard my dad use, since he is a banker I figured they would fit the context.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[vocalsynth-songs]

pinned moment

hi my name is kiki! my main is @kafus which i communicate from. this is my blog for posting vocalsynth song recs... and occasionally other stuff that's in similar categories, but really mostly vocalsynth. i'm 23 years old and i've been into vocaloid since my 11 year old autistic ass clicked on hatsune miku in my youtube suggestions and it exploded my brain instantly. so i may post some really old shit sometimes. or something that came out last week. you never know! it's gacha! something may have a million views or like 5!!!

i have not been asked these questions because i just made this blog but i'm making a fake FAQ anyways just in case LOL read if ur interested and also before sending asks please

Q: why "vocalsynth"?

i know people commonly use vocaloid as an umbrella term to describe non-vocaloids as well but i'm adjusted to differentiating the two and i just prefer the word vocalsynth to be inclusive to every relevant software. also i'm a huge kafu fan and calling kafu a vocaloid feels really cursed

Q: can i submit songs?

A: yeah you can submit songs through my ask box, that doesn't mean i will post them as i'm trying to keep this blog personal to my own taste for funsies but i love hearing new songs. if i like it i might post it sometime

Q: can i ask you about other things/talk to you about vocalsynth?

yeah you might wanna do it on my main @kafus instead though LMAO BUT PLEASE DO this has been one of my two special interests for over a decade and counting

Q: how often do you post?

as of right now gonna put up two songs a day through queue however i might occasionally post something out of schedule because i'm excited about it or something. if i'm too strict about tumblr i nope out and abandon blogs so i may not be consistent foreverjdsfkfsd

Q: how do you tag?

i will always tag with both the vocalsynth(s) used, the producer name, and "song rec" except on posts that aren't song recs, where i use "asks" for asks and "kiki.txt" for personal posts

Q: can you tag (insert trigger here)?

you're free to ask but honestly if you're bothered by dark topics in music this might not be the place for you since i listen to a lot of sad or otherwise Mento Illness type music. i plan on tagging really fucked up subject matter like abuse when applicable or flashing lights in mvs but i am not perfect

Q: who is your favorite producer?

it was nekobolo for years but i have a really difficult time narrowing it down to just one these days. kanzaki iori, iyowa, harumaki gohan, guiano, mikito-p, and kairiki bear are some of my better known favorites that are still currently active, but i also love mawari, yugica, steaka, picdo, atols, the list goes on i could be here forever. as for nostalgic favorites or people who aren't active anymore, like i said there's nekobolo, but of course wowaka and siinamota (rest in peace) and yeah can you tell i have a lot of producers i like sdjfsd

Q: what's your favorite vocaloid/vocalsynth?

hime and mikoto are specifically my favorite vocaloids but if we're accounting for all of vocalsynth, kafu if it wasn't obvious lol

Q: what's your favorite vocalsynth song?

dude i have no clue. that's an impossible question. shoujo rei by mikito-p maybe?

[honeybearee]

A Mother's Touch

By the time Cameron found his way back home, the sky had dimmed enough to spark the streetlights to life, and he found no trace of Anna's car. Or Hanna or Jesse's for that matter. He breathed a sigh of relief as he neared the house, slowly climbing the front steps as he was suddenly aware of how heavy and sore his legs felt.

He'd long since worked off the anger and irritation that kept winding itself into his brain, like a fly that kept buzzing around his head. Now, he just felt exhausted and sad, and he desperately wanted to shower and climb into bed, where he could scroll endlessly online until he passed out.

However, once inside, he noticed his mother sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch, a crochet needle in hand as she worked through whatever project she had going currently. He could hardly remember a time when she wasn't crocheting in the evening -- and he'd had countless blankets and winter hats and scarves to prove it.

His father sat quietly at his desk, clacking away at the keys, and Cameron honestly had no clue what he was doing -- only that he was a million miles away and completely oblivious to his son's presence. All the more convenient for his mother, he decided, as she beckoned him to sit next to her on the couch.

"The kettle is still warm, if you want some tea," she offered as he sat down beside her, groaning softly as he did so. She smiled sympathetically as she continued to crochet.

"No, thanks. I'm probably just going to shower and head to bed."

"Well, why don't we talk for a little bit?" Mel asked, trying to keep her tone casual but Cam knew that she was far more invested in this conversation than she wanted to admit. Cameron glanced back at his father, whose gaze remain fixed on the computer screen in front of him, keys clicking rhythmically as he wrote. What on earth was he up to? Nevermind, he thought as he looked back at his mom.

"Yeah, sure. What do you want to talk about?" Cam asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew, of course, but he was going to make her ask him.

"Seems like things maybe didn't go so well with you and Anna earlier." Mel said, but she kept her eyes fixed on her project, only glancing up at the TV screen every now and again.

"No, I guess not..." Cam sighed, and he felt overwhelmed all over again. He had gone over it again and again, and he just couldn't make sense of what she had said. He never would have ignored a text from Anna. Never would have left her on read. He could see not taking a call in certain situations -- namely if Cristina was around, if he was being honest with himself -- but not outright ignoring it.

But if she said he had, then he had. Anna wasn't a liar, he knew that much hadn't changed about her.

He wound up circling back to the thought that maybe something was wrong with him. Was he suffering some weird sort of memory loss? Had he just straight up ignored people and not realized it? He had even gone through his messages and phone logs as he walked, trying to find any evidence of what she was saying, but he came up empty.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

Cam sucked in a deep breath and sighed heavily before saying, "Mom, I think I'm going crazy."

Mel's hands stilled, her hook halfway through a stitch, but she set it down in her lap, her place completely forgotten.

"What do you mean?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

"I just mean like. I must be forgetting shit or just. I don't know. Anna said that I've ignored her for years and then suddenly I just want to act like everything is normal, but like. I never really got anything from her after Cristina and I got married. She just. Stopped messaging or calling me... but maybe she did, and I just deleted them and forgot about them?" He settled back into the couch and rested his head on the back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "Maybe I've just hit my head too many times."

"I guess that's one explanation," Mel said slowly, absently picking her hook back up and then placing it back down. "Have you been having other memory issues?"

Cam shook his head slowly from side to side.

"No, not really... I have some trouble focusing, but you know, that's the norm," He smiled as they locked eyes, and Mel nodded, a grim smile on her face. He could vividly remember the way that she'd struggled to get him to sit at the kitchen table and work through his homework, and he felt guilt creep in, thinking about how difficult it must have been to have to try to understand a hyperactive child like he had been.

"So then what are some other ideas you might have?" She asked him as she picked her project back up, examining it closely to try and ascertain where she had left off.

"What do you mean?" Cam asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Like, what are some other explanations you can think of for why this might have happened?" She asked as she expertly dove back into her stitches, crocheting with quick, fluid movements that looked so subtle he didn't know what she actually did to get it to fit together so neatly. He had never been able to sit still long enough to pick it up -- unlike Anna.

"I don't know," He sighed, frustration creeping in as he suddenly felt like he was being led to a rationalization he hadn't yet figured out. He'd done it enough times, guiding his students to the correct answer through thinking out loud. He might as well play along if he had any hope of getting her to say whatever it was she was hinting at. "Maybe she messaged and called me somewhere that's not my phone number?"

"That seems easy enough to check," She answered, nodding her head toward his cellphone. Ah, true, he realized, and he quickly dove into the various apps on his phone, daunted by the sheer amount of "connection" focused apps that really just gave you another place to log in and forget about.

He'd gotten so lost in sorting through the various emails and messenger apps and social media and whatever else he could think of that people liked to use to chat these days that it was finally dark by the time he looked up from his phone. His father paused as he walked back into the living room with a fresh glass of iced tea, eyes locking with Cameron from over his phone.

"Hey kid."

"Hey Pops."

He walked past Cam and sat back down at the computer, keys clicking away once again.

"Did you find anything?" His mother side-eyed him from the end of the couch, and he shook his head at her, sitting up from the slumped position he'd sunken into as he scrolled and swiped through is phone.

"No, nothing... I mean, I guess the phone could have eaten the texts and stuff, but then why would it be working now? We were just texting a couple of days ago, no problem." He asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to puzzle his way through.

"Do you think..." Mel paused, her hands suddenly still as she chewed on her bottom lip, before darting her eyes back to her son, her face apprehensive as she cleared her through before asking, "Is it possible that maybe they were deleted by.... someone that's... not you?"

"What?" Cam asked, cocking his head to look at his mother.

"Does anyone else have access to your phone?" She suggested, trying again to feign nonchalance, but it was the anyone else that suddenly called Cristina's face to Cameron's mind.

"Well, yeah, but-" Cam's tone was immediately defensive.

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just throwing ideas out there." Mel cut in, raising a hand to try and pacify her son before they wound up in an argument, too. Cam let out a heavy breath as he crossed his arms back over his chest, sinking further back into the couch.

"I guess if I... if I'm hypothesizing, then maybe it's possible that," He stopped, suddenly feeling a stab of guilt creep in, but he pushed through, nearly hissing her name as he continued, "Cristina could have deleted them."

"Do you really think she'd do that?" The question fell out of her mouth before she realized how dismissive it must have sounded -- she was just so flabbergasted by the idea, even though she herself had been somewhat pushing him to think in that direction. Cam even uttering the words almost felt like confirmation of what she'd suspected since he'd been home -- this marriage was probably over. "I'm sorry, I just mean that it's such a... mean-spirited thing to do."

Cameron almost burst into laughter at the words mean-spirited because it was such a simple small town and yet devastating way to describe someone -- but maybe also because it really felt like a fitting way to describe who Cristina had become over the course of their marriage.

Mean-spirited.

Could she really have stooped so low as to do something so abhorrent? Of course, he'd have to confront her, and what a horrible terrifying notion to consider. He would just as soon quietly pack his things while she was at work and simply serve her papers from afar. If this was something that she'd actually done, he didn't know if he'd ever even be able to look her in the face again.

"I don't know, Mom," Cam said honestly, pushing himself to his feet. "But thanks. You've given me a lot of stuff to think about. I'm gonna shower and head to bed, though."

He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head and mumbled goodnight as he dragged himself up the stairs and into a hot shower where he could stand and hopefully not think for a while.

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[scapegrace74-blog]

Wolf Like Me

A/N So there I was, all ready to keep working on my new historical AU, when Metric Jamie and Claire barged into my brain and started making demands.  I’d been neglecting them, they said.  I hardly ever let them indulge in smut, they said.  I could only go back to writing the AU once I gave them their due.  The things I do for these two loons, man...

The title song is by TV on the Radio and doesn’t have much to do with the subject matter, except for one line which has always made me... *pulls at imaginary collar*

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.  I’m placing this new installment between Ceremonies and Lazy Dancer, so sometime during the first month or so of their physical relationship.

The light filtering into their compact kitchen was diffuse, watery and dull as the weather outside.  He went through the motions of preparing coffee, despite the fact he wasn’t working until later in the afternoon.  By all rights, he should be sound asleep.  His aching body had lifted him from the shoals of sleep and his weighty thoughts had kept him grounded there.

Carrying his mug and a reheated meat pasty over to the sofa, he lowered himself gingerly to the cushions.   He had been ridden hard and put away wet, he mused.  On the surface, this wasn’t a disagreeable state, but very little about his budding relationship with Claire could be safely interpreted on its surface.

As though summoned by his thoughts, his one-time roommate and seemingly voracious lover emerged from his room and padded down the hallway to the bathroom.  She looked like a cross between an albino gazelle and a harried hedgehog.  Even in his current mood, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.  His love for this woman was monumental, rooted deep in his soul and reaching out to span the horizons of his life.  He only had to find a way to keep it, and her, from killing him.  Piece of cake.

Frazzled hair now somewhat tamed, Claire settled gracefully next to him with her own coffee, near-translucent eyelids lowering in bliss as she took her first sip.  He wondered if she could sense to waves of tension that emanated from his skin like heat from a sunbaked street.

“So,” she murmured at last, “last night was pretty wild, huh?”

Right topic, wrong interpretation.  Still, she had brought it up, and that was the best opening he could hope for.

“Mmhmm,” he replied non-committedly.

“I thought I might have to hook you up to a saline I.V. there at the end.  What was that, four times?”  She grinned slyly at him from over the rim of her mug.

“Three,” he corrected, although he couldn’t fault her observations.  His balls were still tender.

Finally reading his mood, Claire placed her mug down deliberately on the table.  She turned to face him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

“Don’t overdo the accolades on my account.  Jesus, Jamie, you’d think I ruined your favourite rugby jersey, not rocked your world in bed.  Are you mad about the handcuffs?”

Despite everything, his cock twitched in his shorts at Claire’s mention of last night’s foray into light bondage: his, not hers.  While not a kink he’d explored before, his reaction has been far from disinterested.  No, he wasn’t mad about the handcuffs.

“Ye seem verra keen tae discuss my opinion o’ last night, Sassenach.  What I’d like tae ken is did ye like it?”

Spluttering, Claire ran her hands nervously through her hair.  He watched her carefully as she tried to navigate towards an acceptable answer.  It was a delicate operation he was undertaking.  He would need all of Claire’s surgical dexterity to broach the topic without cutting through the tender tissue of her perfectionism.

“What a ridiculous question, Jamie!” she finally said.  “I’m pretty certain our neighbours needed a cigarette by the time I was done.”  Collecting her still half-full mug, she made to rise.  He held her in place with a palm across her thigh.  Beneath his touch, her muscles were twitching.

“Aye, but were ye?”

“Was I wot?”  Her eyes were fixed on the kitchen, as though longing for escape.

“Were ye done?”  He spoke slowly, softly, tiptoeing into a minefield.

“Jamie...” she chuckled nervously.

“I want tae say somethin’ to ye, Sassenach, and I dinna want ye tae take it fer criticism...”

“Jamie,” she repeated, this time in a warning tone.

“Nah, ye need tae hear this, Claire.  I love ye, as ye ken well.  I love everything about ye, even the annoying bits.  An’ because I love ye, nothing makes me happier than tae see ye well pleased and tae ken twas I who brought ye that pleasure.  Do ye understand my meaning?”

Enormously wet eyes stared at him, a furrow between her arched brows as though she was working through a riddle.  At last, she nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’m no’ daft, Claire, nor am I sae blinded by lust that I canna see that ofttimes, when we lie t’gether, yer enthusiasm can be a wee bit.... what’s the word?  The one the Millennials throw about when a thing is designed for somebody else’s consumption?”

“Performative,” said in a bleak voice.

“Aye, performative.  And while it’s a dream come true tae bed you, t’would be a million times better if I kent ye were taking yer bliss for yerself, an’ no’ giving it tae me like some sort of gift ye dinna deserve.”

He paused, trying to read whether his words had found their mark or if she was about to pack her bags and tell him to go to hell.  He wasn’t exaggerating.  Sex with Claire was infinitely better than any other sex in his life.  And while he didn’t have some vast experience of women, he’d been with enough to know when Claire’s enthusiasm was feigned.  She wanted him, of that he was certain, but she’d never learned to take.  It would be the rarest privilege to be the one to show her, if only she would let him in. He could teach her tricks that would blow her mind.

***

“I feel foolish.”

“Whatever for, mo nighean donn?”

They were lying in his rumpled sheets, still fragrant with the previous night’s debauchery.  Rather than tear him a new asshole for his audacity, to his everlasting surprise Claire had crumpled into his side with a breathy sob.  He had carried her back to his room like a bridegroom.  There, with tender lips and winnowing fingers, he had eased her into a rare moment of emotional vulnerability.

“I’m studying to be a doctor, for Christ’s sake.  And I’m hardly a blushing virgin...”

He gritted his teeth, trying to avoid thinking of the selfish men that came before him.  They weren’t here now, holding this fierce but complicated woman in their arms, her maple eyes and molasses hair spilling all over him.  He wasn’t her first lover, but god willing, he would be her last.

“Ye’re a giver, Sassenach.  It’s who ye are, down to yer core.  Tis hardly yer fault ye were never taught that pleasure is the gift that gives.”

“Will you?  Teach me?”

A shiver ran the length of his spine, lighting his nerves like sparklers.  Even after the night they’d just spent, blood flooded to his cock like a bruise.  He’d have to be dead to not rouse at such a request from this woman.

“Aye, mo ghradh.  It would be my pleasure.”   And he meant it.

Rather than immediately strip naked, they spent a good deal of time kissing and petting, their clothed hips settling into an easy grind.  Everywhere he sampled, she was sweet and salty, sour and bitter, a smorgasbord for his tongue and his mind.  It was this variety, this seemingly endless combination of textures and moods, that captivated him.  He was certain he would never tire of her.

As things grew more heated, Claire tried to roll him on top of her, but he resisted.

“No, a nighean.  Like this.”  He pulled her on top of him until the bulge in his underwear lined up with the furrow in hers.

“Jamie!” she laughed, pulling her hair back from her eyes.

“Makes me feel like a randy lad of fifteen all over again,” he teased.  “Ye make me sae hard, Claire.”

She gasped, and he watched in fascination as her pelvis shifted from a steady rock to a deliberate, searching circle.  There was a distinct stain of moisture on the pale blue fabric of her knickers, but he couldn’t say if it came from him or her.  Both of them, most likely.

“Sae hard,” he continued in a low murmur that shook with restraint, “tae see ye take what ye need from me.”

A high pitched whine indicated his partner was growing frustrated by the ongoing torture of their almost-contact.

“Please, Jamie,” she begged.

“What is it ye want, Sassenach?”

A flash of spitfire defiance met his teasing question.

“Your cock.”  The click and suck of her pretty mouth spilling such filth was nearly his undoing.  Perhaps it was for the best that she’d nearly drained him dry only eight hours before.

“Then ye better take it, aye?”

Faster than he could have imagined, Claire dragged his boxer-briefs down past his ankles and shed her own knickers.  With the sigh of a nomad reaching an oasis in the desert, she sunk down on his length in a single, long draught.  She was so wet it oozed down to where his balls where already drawn up tight against his base.   Clenching his eyes tight, he counted slowly to ten.

“Now what?” she breathed, seemingly as stunned as he felt.

“Now ye move until ye find the place where it all clicks,” he offered with a flex of his groin.

“What about you?”

“Christ, Sassenach, can ye not feel me throbbing like a bloody split lip inside of ye?  Don’t spare a thought for me.  This is for you.”

She let out a curious hum and twisted her hips this way and that, rolling him against her inner musculature.  A slight arch of her fluted spine.  A counter-clockwise roll.  A series of rhythmic pulses, and then she found exactly what she was looking for.

“Oh.”  It was the exclamation of a prophet, having glimpsed the divine.  That of a pilgrim, having reached the mountain top.  It wasn’t like him to mingle the sacred and the profane, but the look on Claire’s face was nothing short of holy rapture.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, clawing at the bed clothing to avoid grabbing her and pounding to his own rhythm.

“Oh!  Jamie.  Oh!”

“Tell me, Claire.  Tell me,” he begged, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto on the sheer cliff of madness that suddenly yawned before him.

“I’m...  I’m fucking you, Jamie,” she whispered, like it was a secret kept in a locked diary.

“Aye, ye are, a nighean.  Dinna stop.  Dinna stop, Claire.”

Wispy noises and half-formed words began to slip from her mouth.  These weren’t the orchestrated moans and cries of the night before, and they aroused him a hundredfold more.  If he had to guess, she wasn’t even aware she was making them.  

“Can’t...” she breathed after endless moments, neck straining as she titled her chin skywards, slim hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Aye, ye can,” he urged, though he doubted she heard him.  

What only minutes before had looked like budding ecstasy was quickly turning to frustration as her head began to thrash from side to side, whipping her hair across her cheeks.

“Can’tcan’tcan’t,” she chanted almost to herself.

She was teetering on the knife edge between heaven and hell, that much was clear.  Half mad with agonized bliss himself, he sought frantically through the atlas of her labyrinthine mind, searching up dark hallways and around blind corners for an answer that would help release her from her self-made snare.

“Take what ye need, Claire,” he panted, offering himself up to be consumed.  Then, gambling boldly, he added “Be a good girl an’ take it.”

He knew she’d heard him by her sudden stillness.  He held his breath.  There was a tremor that started where he was buried inside of her and spread across her surface like wind across a pond, given voice as a rapturous sigh when it reached her face.

She began to move again, a pinched look of determination on her beatific face.  A set of dainty fingers sank to where their flesh met, so wet that it burned, bursting full and yet cavernously empty, begging to be drowned.  He couldn’t look away, curling up on his spine for a better view, slack-jawed and mesmerized by her practiced movements.

“I’m...  I’m... oh my god, Jamie, I’m going to...”

He couldn’t have stopped himself then for all the money in the world.  Teeth set, eyes fixed on nothingness, he spun away from gravity just as she let out an otherworldly howl and bore down on him like a wolf ravishing a lamb.  Lava rushed down his veins and through his cock in bolts of heat, the whipcrack of release shimmering like electricity across his skin.

Claire folded down over his chest, her arms crossed over her head like she waiting for a bomb to drop from the sky.  She still rode him languidly, wrenching ever last drop of pleasure he had to give.  Her shoulders shook in some strange cocktail of gasping, laughing and sobbing.  At long last, she was still.  She had yet to meet his eyes, and he felt unaccountably nervous.

Pushing strands of hair away from where they had stuck to her face, she rested her chin in her stacked hands.  Her face was equal parts awestruck and adoring, and he allowed his tense muscles to relax.  Seemingly at a loss for words, she placed a lingering kiss on his sternum and rested her cheek once again on her hands, exhaling deeply.

“Sassenach?” he asked, once his breathing was once again under his control.

“Hmmm?”

“I ken ye were only kidding about the I.V., but...”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 18

First

Previous

Next

~~~

The entire bat family looked surprised.

“But -- but you didn’t try and kill Hawkmoth!” Said Red Robin after a few minutes of giving her a wide-eyed stare.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because I couldn’t. We’re pretty much indestructible in these suits and Chat wasn’t able to bring himself to cataclysm him. It took four years, do you really think I wouldn’t have preferred to just take out a gun and fu --.”

“Y’know, just once I’d like one of my future children to say ‘oh, hey, actually I think murder is a bad thing’. Is that too much to ask?” Batman said, squeezing his eyes shut.

She raised her eyebrows. “’Future children’? I don’t want to be adopte --.”

Nightwing rested a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh, it’s going to end up happening, it’s better if you just accept it.”

“I love her,” said Red Hood with a wide grin. “Lay off of her guys. I’m mentoring this one.”

Red Robin sighed. “Not happening.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Marinette said, shrugging the hand off of her shoulder and rubbing where it had been for a bug of some sort. Nothing. At least they weren’t that bad. “It’s the best option.”

Batman held his hands up for silence, and then turned to her and spoke slowly, as if hoping it would stick better if he enunciated every letter: “If we kill him then we’ll be just as bad as him.”

She stared at him for a long time after this, doing mental gymnastics to figure out just what his perspective could be. “Okay, first of all, Kant --.”

“Don’t bother with bats,” said Red Hood, striding over and slinging his arm around her shoulders. “He’s not going to listen.”

Robin seemed especially bitter about the whole ordeal, stewing between Nightwing and Batman, until he finally snapped his fingers. “Oh! But you didn’t kill Hawkmoth when you took his miraculous!”

The bat family reeled back in shock and stared at their youngest like he’d grown a second head.

Red Hood seemed particularly offended. “Did bats get to you, too?”

Robin shook his head. “I just think she’s being inconsistent and a hypocrite.”

“Alright. First of all: the reason I didn’t bother with killing him afterward is because the guy relied so much on his miraculous that it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to do anything. If he broke out of jail he’d have a little bit of fight training and a secretary. Second of all: screw you!”

Red Hood pretended to wipe away a tear. “Best new sister yet.”

She grinned and finally leaned into him. “Thanks. I try.” Her smile dropped as she looked at the rest of the bat family. “As the only one to permanently defeat anyone, don’t you think I should get a bigger say in this?”

Robin raised his eyebrows and gave her the first smile she’d ever gotten from him, though it was gone quickly. Nightwing brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. Red Robin wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was laughing.

Batman seemed less amused, eyes narrowed. “How about we put it to a vote. Everyone who agrees with Ladybug, stand next to her. Everyone who agrees with me, stand here.”

Red Hood remained at her side, but Nightwing and Red Robin stepped closer to their father. Everyone’s eyes fell on Robin, who was looking between the two sides with a conflicted expression.

Then he took a spot by Red Hood.

Three on three. Great.

Marinette sighed. “This is why you don’t do votes with even numbers.”

They all looked at each other awkwardly. What do you do when you say you’re going to vote and then tie? It doesn’t really happen a lot, and even less so when it came to topics such as murder.

She sighed. “Fine, fine. If you can give an actually good option that doesn’t involve murder, I’d love to hear it.”

“We throw him in Arkham.”

“Arkham?”

“Yes.”

“The asylum where he’s broken out of a million times?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great idea, but maybe we need something more permanent.”

“It’s not going to work, Ladybug,” said Nightwing with a shrug. “Man always comes back. I killed Joker myself once, Batman saved him, you just kind of have to accept that the man isn’t going to die.”

“Well, maybe if he didn’t save him --!” she began.

“We won’t be killing him and that’s final!” Said Batman.

All the kids looked at each other warily. The man’s voice had a dangerous sense of finality to it.

Marinette sighed and bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. If we do it your way we’d have to lock up every major criminal in Gotham to make sure he couldn’t get out. Do you have some sort of plan for it?”

Red Robin raised his hand. “I do. You’re pretty new and no rogues have any clue what you sound, or even really look, like.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My ladybug costume is pretty recognizable.”

“True, no one else would wear something that tacky,” said Robin.

She stared at him for a second, anger flickering in her eyes. “Have you seen yourself, Mr. Traffic Light?”

Before they could argue any more, Red Robin cut in: “You mentioned taking Hawkmoth and Mayura’s miraculi. Try using one of those instead.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Those were notoriously hard to corrupt and use for evil, and she didn’t want to put them through that again so soon. “I’ll think of something else, but fine. I’m going to become someone else so I can... have a different outfit?”

“We want you to get close to the Rogues.”

After another hour of going through their plans, then an extra few minutes to make sure everyone jotted it down, they finally knew what they were going to do.

Then she was handed a small black object. She blinked and looked up at Batman. “Um...?”

“It’s a way to communicate with us. Just press down and we’ll hear both you and whatever you’re hearing.”

“Is it bugged?”

“No. Nightwing tried, but if you want your privacy then you’re allowed it.”

She spun the small orb between her fingers and slowly placed it in her ear. She pressed down. “TESTING!” She yelled and watched everyone wince and hold their own ears. She smirked. “Great, I love it, thanks.”

“I don’t know what you were talking about, Robin, she’s great,” said Red Hood with an even wider grin once his head had stopped twanging painfully.

“Aw, he talks about me?” She cooed, resting a hand over her heart.

Red Robin grinned, still rubbing his temples a little bit, but he would never miss out on a chance to mess with his brother, so he spoke up: “Hardly ever stops, to be honest.”

“Ladybug this, Ladybug that. It got annoying,” said Nightwing with a small smirk playing across his face.

Then everyone finally broke into laughter as the poor kid began to flush bright red. “That’s just because she sucks! Stop making it sound like that!”

Needless to say, they only laughed harder.

With that they began to break off into groups. Red Robin and Robin went to arguing over who knows what. Nightwing and Batman were discussing the logistics of their plan. Now she was alone with Red Hood, who’s smile didn’t waver.

She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Gun?”

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. “Gun.”

~~~

My brain at 3am: Miraculous But Actually Good

My current fic: ??

~

Taglist

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[marmosa]

oi, is it hot in here?

Fred x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: my best friend came over yesterday and showed me a snippet of one of her george fics and then immediately hyped me up to write this one. girls and gays i present the aquamenti spell, enjoy ;) (this is so out of pocket, could you tell i was going thru it). also if anyone wants more george content please let me know, i’m a fred girl through and through, but i have no shame in showing some love to george <3

***

“Fred, just because we’re allowed to legally use magic now, doesn’t mean we’re legally obliged to,” [y/n] mumbled, flat out glaring at him as he pouted at her from across the library table, trying once again to convince her to duel with him.

“Just because we’re not required to, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be tons of fun. Come on [y/n], you know just as well as I do that you’re dying to try out some new spells,” Fred pleaded, reaching across the table and pushing the book she was using to shield her face from his relentless puppy dog eyes down.

“Even so Weasley, you’re going to get yourself in a spot of trouble you’re not going to know how to get out of. Just because I play coy doesn’t mean I wouldn’t absolutely smoke your arse if we did duel,” she hummed surely, straightening her posture to emphasize her sudden breath of confidence.

“Win? I doubt that,” Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a mischievous idea bubbling to the surface of his mind, “No, you’re not bold enough to win.”

“I- me? Not bold enough?” [y/n] sputtered, incredibly offended at his insinuation but still trying her best to stand her ground, “I know what you’re trying to do y’know and I know you’re also full of shit. You wouldn’t last a second against me.”  

Fred glanced over at her, a smartass look on his face, “I think I could last at least two seconds, maybe five, maybe six, maybe a million, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud to find out.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just smart enough to not let myself get dragged into your chaos- as fun as it is sometimes,” [y/n] mumbled the last bit, trying not to inflate his ego anymore than he needed, despite feeling no shame in admitting that his antics were usually paired with an inescapable rush of adrenaline.

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” Fred rolled his eyes, missing the quick crack in [y/n]’s composure at the pet name that practically rolled off his tongue with ease, “just don’t come crying to me when you get bored one afternoon and need someone to duel.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and felt her competitive need finally snap, “Listen here you dim-wit, if you want a duel so bad you’ll get a duel, but don't you come crying to me when I hand you your arse on a silver-lined platter.”

Fred sat up excitedly, tapping his fingers against the table, “See, there’s that competitive [y/n] I was hoping for. I appreciate the threat, but you might want to save that fire for the duel, you’re gonna need it.”

“You’re a twat, you know that?” [y/n] grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair.

“Only for you,” Fred winked, a shit-eating grin plaster on his face, “see you at the dueling grounds.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” [y/n] waved him off, biting back a smile.

***

“Aha! So you showed up in the end,” Fred cheered, dashing over and scooping [y/n] up in his arms, swinging her from side to side as she hung on for dear life.

As soon as he set her down she glared up at him like he’d just forced her to ride the worlds most dangerous roller coaster, “just because I was reluctant, doesn’t mean I’m a downer. I’m always true to my word Freddie.”

“Ahh,” He hummed low, crossing his arms and shrugging, tapping his chin inquisitively, “I suppose so. But what about that one time when you promised me that we’d go up to the tower and then you bailed-,”

“I had a potions exam to study for and my brain felt like it was melting, don’t you dare turn one on me. Last time I checked you were the one who bailed on me when we planned to go rob Filch of his-,” [y/n] started but was cut off when Fred pressed one of his hands against her mouth, shushing her with the other.

“You don’t want anyone to hear do you? That could get us in an enormous amount of trOUBLE- EW!” Fred hacked and jumped backwards, wiping his hand furiously against his jeans, “you’re a sick, sick woman.”

[y/n] grinned triumphantly, wiggling her eyebrows at his disgusted expression, “don’t lie, you loved it. Now come on, we came to duel, didn’t we?”

“You’re really testing my patience, [y/l/n],” Fred chuckled lowly, “but you’re right, get into position so I can completely ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” [y/n] hummed, winking at Fred as she shuffled into her spot, drawing her wand and bobbing it in her hand.

The duel began and the two made no waste of time jumping at each other, throwing charm after hex at one another, testing out every single spell in their arsenal (well the one’s that wouldn’t painfully injure or kill either of them anyway). It was electric, the wild passion for their craft buzzing excitedly behind their eyes, present in the way they danced around each other, avoiding spells and quickly returning them.

[y/n] felt a laugh bubble out of her chest when Fred disarmed her, dashing off to retrieve her tool, ducking as he fired another spell right over the top of her head. Fred couldn’t help but follow suit in laughter as she turned around and flung a disarming spell of her own, managing to hit him and send his wand flying farther away than he probably would’ve liked.

“Come on now, [y/n], you wouldn’t harm a totally helpless boy,” Fred pleaded teasingly, inching to the side while trying to maintain eye-contact with her, mostly for his own safety than showmanship.

“I told you when we started this Weasley, I wasn’t going to go easy on you,” [y/n] called out, jerking out her arm, “Aquamenti!”

Water sprung forth from her wand, shooting directly at Fred and knocking him clean to the floor, positively soaking him from head to toe. He sat up immediately, his mouth hanging open in shock, still processing what entirely had just happened.

“I won,” [y/n] muttered, cheer surging through her in unexpected waves, “I won!”

“Shut up!” Fred groaned from his spot on the floor, pushing himself up off the floor, the cold slowly but surely seeping into his bones, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

[y/n] bit back a smug grin, crossing her arms across her chest and tipping her head back as if she had just won a crown far too heavy for her head, “Sorry, what was that about me losing?”

Fred glared back at her, his narrowed eyes nearly on the brink of being completely shut, “Shut. Up,” he repeated, enunciating his pauses.

“Aww, is someone sad with the outcome,” [y/n] cooed, spinning around to face him as soon as she had retrieved his wand, her triumphant spirit being shoved aside as a more uncomfortable emotion took hold.

“Shut up and hand me my wand ya git,” Fred mumbled, snatching his wand back from her, “we get it, you won.”

[y/n] couldn’t help the heat that was crawling up her neck, suddenly hyperaware of the situation she was currently in. Why’d she chose that spell? Why’d she chose that spell in this random room, away from others, when he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that was now clinging to him like a second skin- god she could see so much.

Fred glanced over at her with creased brows, confused at the sudden spot of silence, wondering what had gotten little miss triumphant to go so quiet. When he saw her shuffling through her book bag, an amused little smile wormed its way onto his face- oh he was going to have fun with this.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden, sweetheart?” Fred drawled, biting back a grin at the way she tensed her shoulders.

“No particular reason, just felt bad about rubbing in my victory s’all,” [y/n] replied, still shuffling through her bag for a, uh, pack of gum she could have sworn she had had earlier.

“You? Feel bad? About a dueling victory against me? Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” He shook his head, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her to her feet, “There’s something else.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, straining to avoid glancing down at his toned chest, “There is absolutely nothing else. Scout’s honor.”

Fred sported a smug grin as he leaned down to be eye level with her, his eyes raking over her face, noting her balled up fists shaking at her sides and her abnormally wide eyes, “Are you sure, you look awfully tense.”  

“I’m not tense,” she waved him off, feeling near the verge of combustion trying to control herself. It didn’t particularly help that he was staring at her like that while her mind raced through the hundreds of ways this interaction could go, her heart hammering in her chest at the suggestiveness of her thoughts.

“Come on, you can tell me, I won’t say anything out of line,” he bargained, trying his best to coax her out of whatever dumb act she was playing at.

“Again, I am completely fine,” she reassured him, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to subtly put some space between them.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Fred lilted, titling his head to the side slightly, “what, is something about me bothering you?”

[y/n] felt her stomach drop, so he did know, of course he knew, she wasn’t particularly inconspicuous about her dilemma, but she refused to let up now, “There is nothing about you that’s bothering me, Freddie.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is that you like what you see?” he teased, darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I-wait, now hold a minute-,” she began only to lose her voice as he backed her into one of the many pillars in that room, her palms pressing flat against the cool stone.

“See, I still don’t quite believe you,” he whispered, pressing his forearm over her head, placing the other on his hip as the water he’d been drenched in had practically sealed his pockets shut.

“And why not?” [y/n] struggled to maintain her composure, her resolve diminishing by the second.

“Because someone who’d didn’t like the view wouldn’t be staring at it so plainly,” He concluded, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

[y/n] didn’t know if she wanted to curl up into a ball and die or yank him down by his collar and let him absolutely ravish her then and there, her mind was too clouded to pick one. Luckily, Fred seemed to be significantly more level-headed than she currently, which meant he made no waste of time taking the reigns of the situation.

“So, what if I did agree with you what then,” [y/n] muttered, looking down at her shoes, trying her best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’d say that you’re in luck because,” he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it back upwards, forcing her to look at him, “I’m enjoying my view just as much.”

“Well then, what’re you gonna do about it?” she quipped, shamelessly darting her eyes between his eyes and lips.

“I’d say kiss you, but only if you want it,” he replied, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.

“I do. I do want it, please Fred,” she pleaded, not even caring if she sounded desperate anymore, throwing her pride to the wind.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Fred leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her off the pillar and into him. It quickly became something desperate, longing, all their pent up tension finally spilling out of their overfilled cup. [y/n] felt up his chest, smiling to herself as she concluded that it did feel as nice as it looked.

He made quick work of hoisting her up, linking his arms under her thighs and pressing her back against the wall, relishing in finally being able to touch her the way he so desperately wanted to for all those years. She did the same, tangling her fingers into the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, basking in the warmth coming from him despite his soaking wet clothing.

“Do you want to stop?” Fred asked softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her jaw and neck, “we don’t have to go any further.”

“As lovely as continuing sounds,” she breathed, smoothing his hair out of his face, “I don’t think we’re geared for that right now. And you need to get changed of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Good lord you sound like my mother,” Fred groaned, knocking his forehead on her shoulder.

“Did you really just bring up your mother right now,” [y/n] asked incredulously, wiggling her way out of his grip and back onto her own two feet, “that’s weird man.”

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t bring up my need of a change of clothes!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point, “Besides, who’s fault is that?”

“Someone stupid probably,” [y/n] shrugged, picking up her robes and tossing them square at him, “wear those so you don’t get colder, if someone asks, you took a dip in the lake.”

“That’s even more unbelievable than just telling someone straight up what we were doing,” Fred replied, flat out, pulling on the robes that we’re obviously too short for him.

“Well too bad, loser of the duel has to follow the winner’s rules,” [y/n] shrugged, offering him a smug smile.

“Can we go back to a couple minutes ago when I’d managed to shut you up?” Fred quipped, crossing his arms as he pouted at her.

“Nope, no can do, you kissed me Weasley which means I have nothing more to be embarrassed about,” [y/n] sang, taking his hands and swinging them along with hers.

“Well I take it back!”

“Please no,” she frowned, sinking her shoulders.

Fred sighed and pulled her into a hug, his words muffled against her hair as he mumbled softly, “I could never say no to that face.”  

[shesawriter39049]

|UNWRAP ME| M|

Pairing : Jimin X Reader (Ft a lil Tae)

“There’s a bow on my panties because my ass is a present!”

About- Honestly, you were just trying to prep gift bags for your company’s holiday party! But Jimins stressed, and needs a little brain reset sooo….I guess we’re prepping gift bags later!

Or- The company has quite a few deadlines to hit before you guys close for the holiday! Jimin’s in charge of talent and everybody’s fucking up…but in your line of work it’s a domino affect! So if his crew falls behind ultimately everybody’s behind! Hints Jimin’s stress and frustration....

WC: Sneak peek (1k)

WARNINGS: (FULL THING): Teasing, light edging, dirty talk, top/bottom OC, top/power bottom Jimin, hand restraints, unprotected sex, over stimulation, fingering (F receiving), biting/marking kink, VERY light degration kink (he playfully calls her a “little bitch/slut” once) light come play, light spanking

FINAL NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

*Pierced Jimin/Red haired “Dope” Era Jimin meets 2020 Jimin!?

*Also it should go without being said but Jimin, IS Westernized, he’s from LA in this ffs!

*In true Rocki fashion I decided to do holidy prompts late af & did not finish in time for the main Holiday but w/e! Note, there is some backstory here bc this was set to be the 1st of 3 holiday prompts!** ___________________________________________________

Sunday, December 14TH, 4PM 

“Alright, so you wanna hear some bullshit?!”

K, well that’s apparently Jimin, musing around a mouth full of fries! I love how no one even bothers to knock, give notice they just show the fuck up! Whenever...

Cute.

I swear it sounds like your running a damn liquor store because there’s an obnoxious amount of bells and mistletoe hanging above the door almost acting as a doorbell at this point. Just casually Fa-la-laing together, echoing throughout your entire apartment every damn time the door opens! Honestly, your slowly regretting giving Jin and Tae free reign with decorations because that shits annoying as all hell!

Gaze still focused on your original task, not even looking in his direction “Don’t trip over the-“ There's a loud thud, followed by an obscene groan, accompanied by an even louder “Fuckkk!” Which solidified he did in fact trip over the ....

“....Box with Jin’s other Christmas tree in it ...” The words kinda died off your tongue at this point because well, clearly the warning did not fare well! “If anything’s broken I’m totally snitching just so we’re clear” Sassing over a half empty glass of spiked eggnog.

Now that you’ve finally looked at him, you find yourself hiding a smirk behind your cocktail as well! The boy is fine, you’d give him that! Looking like a model off duty, in his low cut white v, neck hidden beneath a distressed leather jacket! Topping off the look with a pair of chunky combats and disrespectfully tight dark wash denim jeans! I swear they damn near looked painted on, aviators resting on the bridge of his nose! Gucci backpack slung over his shoulder, Starbucks in one hand, and some brown bag full of grease in the other! Jimin recently went back red, looking dangerously close to the same 18 year old you met, at UCLA almost years ago now!  Just a boujier version, it’s like this Jimin’s from Calabasas instead of the Bay! Though your down for both options if we’re being real!

Not that Jimin’s not equally as good of company as well, you were honestly just expecting Tae! The two of you were starting to put together the gift bags for next week's holiday party! Hints the hot ass mess all over the floor of your living room, it’s a disgusting pile of shopping bags and boxes! Everything from Amazon to Saks Fifth, at this point you aren’t even sure where the fuck your floor starts or ends! One thing you do know for damn sure is Hobi’s going to have an aneurysm If he sees it! Sooo, hopefully Tae shows up sooner than later...

It’s become a tradition, or at least since the companies been profitable enough to do so! First off, you’re love language has always been a combination of “Gifts” and “Acts of service, so shit like this is essentially second nature!

However, quality time has slowly slipped its way into the mix over the past couple of years as well! Especially considering it’s almost a luxury for the seven of you at this point but you try not to complain! I mean Namjoon and yourself just did an interview last week for Forbes 30 under 30 for fucks sake! But anyway, like I was originally saying this little party is your way of trying to give your staff a combination of all 3 said love languages!

Above everything else you all work your asses off well, aware this is far from a 9-5, yet they give you their best constantly! Yeah, it was built on the backs of you and your boys but it wouldn’t be were it is now without everyone else! So, with that being said the schedule is as follows! 

1.Bust ass and hit all of your year end deadlines by December 22nd. 

2.The holiday party is on the 23rd...

3. Thennnnnn....after that the companies closed until the 2nd of January! 

Well kinda, if we’re being real the 7 of you never fully stop working, but you damn sure plan to try! I guess it’s the beauty and the curse of having damn near everything accessible on your phone! I swear this morning Joon was washing your back whilst you read him the latest profit/loss update from Jin soooo......that’s that!

Everyone else however....off duty with pay!

Which brings us back to the original task at hand before Jimin showed up,prepping the gift bags that get handed out at said holiday party! The invite list is pretty exclusive honestly,outside of your staff, and there plus one, the other guests are typically the immediate crew/ talent used throughout the year on various productions! Oh, there’s also special little packages mailed out to a couple of the company's sponsors as well! So all together were looking at at least 100 gift bags give or take! Of course at this stage you guys go all out but that’s not what it’s about! It’s legitimately the thought that counts!

Little gestures like this just remind people that you care,that they’re on your mind even if they aren’t currently doing you a favor! That’s what sets Onyx apart, all the little things you do without even thinking about it! Coffee, donuts, catering on set for long shoots,or even the little kits Jimin brings with him to set for the models! Fully stocked with soothing cream, heating pads, the full nine! It’s actually sad how much of a rarity it is in your line of work! 

Obviously, it goes without saying that those types of gestures aren’t feasible for everyone....However there’s companies worth more than you that do amples less!

But anyway back to Jimin and Tae! As I mentioned when the door originally opened you were expecting a mop of silver locks as opposed to red! Baby boy ran out to pick up the custom gift bags from this Indie vendor in WeHo. Hint’s why you were expecting Tae instead, now, why Jimins here I have no damn idea! Clearly we’re about to find out and apparently it’s “Some Bullshit!”

Honestly outside of checking his OOTD you didn't truly look at him. Far too busy propped on top of your oversized dining room table sorting through a manusery of  “Thank you” cards!

Eyes flicking to the left ever so slightly as you hear him shuffle closer “I-yeah sure what bullsh-wait are you eating my DoorDash?!”

It’s the way you constantly have to remind yourself that jail will not be like Orange is in the new black! Because I swear you damn near chucked this martini glass at that fire engine red dome of his!

Jimin just shrugs, a little nonchalant and unenthusiastic, almost as if he’s inconvenienced actually...

“Mmm, depends on perspective” He deadass just stuffed two more fires in his mouth! You're literally going to strangle him! It’s borderline painful how hard  your jaw tick, eyes narrowed in his direction!

Brows arched so damn high your gonna end up needing Botox from the permanent crease embedding within your skin. “Perspect-your literally eating-“

Holding a solitary finger in your direction “Tae just text me and said look at your phone and text him back...with like, a million pouty faces. Also, different note, who changed the decorations I placed on the mantle?! “

Jimin’s hand is now resting on his hip, legitimately angry about these damn decorations! I think his neck even did a couple rolls in the process, and I’m willing to bet,before he leaves they will be swapped out again!

A frustrated groan attempts to leave your throat  though it goes unacknowledged as your lacking any ounce or bite! Far too fond of both of your boys to truly be agitated at the moment! Actually that’s a lie, you high key wanna punch Jimin but it’s fine ....

“That, would be Jin, he said they clashed with the table decor” Pointing to all of the gold, and maroon colored decorations donning the marble coffee table “So, if your pissed go curse him out because I could give less than a damn! Now where the fuck is my phoneeee”

Hopping off the table causing your oversized UCLA Alum hoodie to hike over your ass. Said ass is covered or barely covered considering your cheeky, red, ruffle little panties are in fact assless! A cute little bow perched right on top of your tailbone, as if to direct the eye where to go….

Jimin is now choking on stolen fires and yeah there’s a smirk on your face as you grab your phone!

Mmmmhmmmm...and to think, maybe if he wasn’t being such a brat you’d let him unwrap one of his gifts a little early!

“Baby now he’s calling meeee” Anddddd he’s whining, wiggling his phone like it’s on fire! Ya know, moments like these in fact remind you that Tae and Jimin are the youngest!

“Oh for fucks sake!” Huffing in his direction snatching the phone and bag of Five Guys away in the process!

“Yes baby?” It’s actually terrifying how quickly your tone, and entire demeanor just switched! Somewhat reminiscent to how you’d see a mom scold one child then baby talk another all in the same breath! 

Jimin without a doubt noticed too, lip jutting out in a pout and no matter how many times you roll your eyes you still find yourself leaning forward kissing it right off! He moans into it and you Instantly taste the tangy seasoning from your fries, especially once he tries to swipe his tongue past the seam of your lips. The feeling of that tiny piece of metal playing in his mouth almost distracted you, but alas...the notion immediately reminds you why you were irked to begin with! Without even thinking you lean back into nipping at his bottom lip, though...this is Jimin we’re dealing with here! So whatever you thought you’d achieve is now dead, because a needy little whine just rustled in the back of his throat 

Speaking of love languages,there’s another called “Physical Touch” which has the words Jimin Park written all over it. So with that being said you really should’ve already been prepared for whatever’s about to unfold.

It’s subconscious at this point, head dropping down to the crook of your neck, nosing up a vein like a neglected puppy! Squeezing your waist hard enough to damn near engrave his thumb print in against your hip bones! Well, clearly he doesn’t want you going anywhere anytime soon!   

So what do you do instead? Place the bag of food on the bar, hold the phone in one hand and bring the other up to play in his freshly dyed locks! I swear this man is a second away from purring so maybe he’s not a puppy after all. Suddenly his ring clanned fingers trickle down your spine heading south, flexing his palm to squeeze down around the swell of your ass! Shifting you forward so your chest to chest...

So, here you are trying to cater to both of your boys at once...lord help you!

“No, of course I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just busy-yes Tae. You wanna put what in a what,Now?”

~~~~~

Hiii, as I mentioned above this was kinda last minute, I wrote out prompts on the 21st, then adult life kicked in. I actually had my own little office Christmas party to plan (Nothing on this scale obviously because well, we know the way the real world is rn) However because of that I couldn’t truly work on this until the 24th. However it’s been a long time since I wrote/wanted to write so I opted to just post it anyway! Hopefully the full thing will be up by the 28th at the latest.

I have also attached the overall masterlist for this AU!

7 DEEP 

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

[sjjdkdkwo]

For the prompt list! Ironstrange and 24, where Sephen's physical appearance alters (up to you in what way and how though I was thinking something monstery). He's kinda insecure about it, trying to figure out how he's going to reveal his appearance to Tony.

One of his tentacles twitched in indignation and Stephen fought to urge to shudder as it moved of its own accord. Of all the current changes, he supposed the new germination of tentaculum had been the least offensive amongst them. But something about the way they slithered and squelched loudly against each other like a pile of larvae nearly always made Stephen gag in repugnance. One of the mouths on his stomach heaved anyway. Stephen prayed that it couldn’t be heard in the suffocating silence, but if the look of disconcertment on the other mans face was anything go by, it had. He’d never thanked the Vishanti as strongly as then for having taken the time to learn glamour spells.

 Tony-no, not Tony, Stark. He was Stark again; because this was the future where Stark abhorred him after all was said and done. The one where he hadn’t forgiven Stephen for being left in a storm of ash and bereavement back on Titan. But it was the one where he was still alive, and to Stephen that was enough. And now Stark stood in front of him and Stephen was grateful that his mind didn’t process him as the mess of seared flesh and open wounds and rot, it often did when his memories blurred together in a mosaic of failed alternate futures. Small blessings. Still, it wasn’t enough to settle the accumulation of uncertainty and dejection at the sight of him.

 Finally Stark spoke.

 “Strange.” He said, bobbing his head a little in greeting as he shifted his feet. A paper bag appeared from somewhere behind his back and he presented it in front Stephen like a prize. “Brought you a cheeseburger. Wasn’t sure if you ate this kind of stuff or not but hey, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

 What?

 “What?” Stephen said, all three hundred and five eyes blinking simultaneously. (He’d counted.)

 Stark flung the bag at him without warning and Stephen caught it with one of his tentacles. Under the guise of the spell though he caught it with one shaky hand.

 “Anyways, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by and say hi. Maybe go over some stuff from the last mission.” Somewhere between the words Stark had wandered off and now stood in front of the relics, face scrunched up in thought. “Brought over some of the paper work you forgot to fill out from last time-“

 “I didn’t forget.” Stephen cut him off, agitation bleeding through his tone. “I’m not avenger remember?”

 Stark said nothing at that, instead turning to study Stephen with a face of impassiveness. But Stephen new better, could see the thoughts of perturbation, circumspect and general unease that were always swarming from behind his eyes and burrowing deep into the crevices of his mind. Stephen hated that he’d only added to them during their short time knowing each other.

 “No, your not.” Tony said. More serious now. “But you were there, that means you can’t just leave whenever you want.”

 The last words were sharp and dangerous, and they threatened to strike at any moment should Stephen misstep. Stark wasn’t referring to avengers business then and Stephen didn’t need a time stone to draw that conclusion. He remembered the aftermath well enough. All of Starks friends and allies had been crowding him then, checking to see if he was all right, and enveloping him in reassurances and gratitude. Stephen had never felt so foreign before then, so out of place, and unwarranted and wrong. Like an ugly smudge over the beautiful picture of love and relief and warmth that they’d all made. So he had left, Wong following close behind once he’d dismissed the other sorcerers. He told himself he’d misheard the shout of his name just before he portalled away and tried to ignore the thought that it had sounded suspiciously like Stark, it didn’t matter anymore. They’d won; so all Stephen could do was return to his duties, living off borrowed time and the deep unwavering sense of bliss that the universe was safe for one more day.

 “I wasn’t aware I had to seek out permission before going about my own life, Stark.” He said, trying to shadow his adoration for the other man under false aversion.

 This wasn’t that kind of future.  

 “Yeah well, maybe not. But you could at least let someone know before you do.” Stark said, inching forward slowly, almost predatory like. “Instead of leaving the rest of us to wonder what the hell happened, why you just left without a goddamned word! Did you ever stop to think that someone was looking for you then!? We didn’t even know where you lived for fucks sake-we thought…I thought…”

 Stark was breathing heavily then, every gulp of air shuddering through him and causing his body to tremble uncontrollably. Stephen watched him gasp out before he swallowed and closed his eyes and counted under his breath. Stephen reached out for him before remembering that the spell could only affect the way people saw him, not felt him.

 “I looked for you.” Stark said, something fragile in his voice and Stephen’s chest ached then as guilt swirled deep within his stomach. “But you were gone. And no one could tell me where you were and I thought you were dead…”

 “Stark I’m-“

 “Tony. You called me Tony before.” He whispered.

 Stephen willed himself to swallow the accretion of emotions that had stemmed from fourteen million six hundred and five futures then. No matter how much he longed to reach out and touch, to breath in Tony until his lungs drowned in the essence of his very being. Because Stephen was a monster, and for a moment he didn’t know in what way he meant that.

 “Tony” Stephen sighed. “I’m sorry.”

 Tony barked out a harsh laugh then, cutting Stephen in places he hadn’t thought possible.

 “Fuck you, Stephen. Fuck I-“ Stephen watched him straighten back out, little tremors running along his edges like he was a an image glitching before his eyes and Stephen worried he’d been a hallucination after all. “Please. I just want to talk.”

 “Okay.”

 Tony nodded and moved forward to grab his shoulder before Stephen could stop him, and the act startled Stephen enough that his concentration on the spell faltered for a moment. Stephen let out a sharp breath when his form was revealed to Tony in the sickening image of a mass of limbs and eyes and mouths. Showed him the boils that had been growing along Stephen’s sides that popped out pointed sharp little legs when they burst, and the mass of sharp teeth that now overtook most of Stephen’s face. He watched Tony do the only logically thing anyone would do in that moment. Scream.

 “Holy fuck!” Before he knew it the familiar glow of a repulsor was shining over his face, and Stephen fought back the onslaught of memories that flittered through his mind of all the time’s Tony had blasted his head into a splatter of blood and brain matter. “Stephen what the fuck was that!?”

 Stephen held up his hands in surrender and breathed through the panic that had surfaced. His tendrils quivered in trepidation and his extra mouths moaned and groaned through his worriment. “Please, put that way.”

 “Yeah, fuck no.” Tony said, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Not until you explain what the hell that was, Shoggoth. I swear to God if you’re not Stephen Strange, if you so much as hurt one hair on his head, I’ll blast you to the next dimension over.”

 You already did once. Stephen can’t help but think.

 “I can assure you, I am myself and no one else.” Stephen scoffed, a little offended that Tony thought he’d let himself be overpowered in such a way. “This is merely the result of negligence on my part during a trip off world. Please. Don’t be afraid.”

 It had been. He shouldn’t have touched that dog really, but it was a dog and Stephen adored dogs. It definitely hadn’t been his fault no matter what anyone said. Wong could reprimand him all he wanted, he hadn’t seen how adorable it’d been. Tony only furrowed his brows further.

 “Little hard to do that when the crawling eye is staring back at me.” He said. “It’s really you?”

 “If it wasn’t I can assure you, Wong would’ve dealt with me by now.” Stephen rolled his eyes.

 Tony reluctantly lowered his hand, repulsor disappearing. The look of uncertainty had softened a bit but still sat firm on Tony’s face. He tilted his head a bit in question and finally Stephen gave up and decided to release the spell. He tried not to let the look of terror that flashed briefly over Tony get to him. But it still hurt when the other man subconsciously stepped back in fear. He stopped just a few steps behind, before he lets his eyes roam over Stephen’s gruesome form. Stephen saw him linger on his tentacles and tried not to feel self-conscious when Stark pursed his lips at the head growing from the side of his neck.

 “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Stark asked after a moment, something soft and almost pitiful in his voice. “Shit. Stephen, how long have you been like this? Have you been hiding this since…?”

 “No, it happened after Titan.” Stephen clarified. “Quite recently actually.”

 “Right.” Tony said, and something odd settled on his face. “Does it…is it hurting you?”

 Stephen frowned. Of all the things he’d expected Stark to ask, this hadn’t been one of them. Still he couldn’t deny the small thrill that ran through him when Tony got closer, and he had to force the tendrils still so they didn’t reach for him.

 “Not anymore, no.” Tony frowned at that. “It’s fine. Wong is looking for solution as we speak. The issue will be resolved soon.”

 Hopefully.

 “So what? Your just suppose to answer the call of Cthulhu till then?” Tony asked.

 “Very clever.” Stephen rolled his eyes again. “There’s nothing else that can be done. Besides it’s not like it hinders my magic in any way so you don’t have to worry.”

 “Yeah that’s great and all but are you, you know?” Tony waved his hand. “Okay?”

 Suddenly it was too much. Stephen couldn’t stand to look at Tony anymore, not when he was regarding him with concern and some semblance of fondness. Like he cared for Stephen, like he mattered. So he pushed him back.

 “You don’t have to pretend you care about this you know?” Stephen said softly.

 “What?”

 “It’s fine. You came here to ask questions about Titan and the stone. I’ll answer them.” Stephen said, “I know you dislike me, you don’t have to care about me and my personal matters, really-”

 Stephen startled when a loud groan from Tony rang through the air and interrupted him.

 “For someone so smart you can really be stupid sometimes.”

 Stephen didn’t get the chance to retort because suddenly Tony’s hand had reached up to cup his face. The eyes on his cheeks snapped shut under Tony’s touch and Stephen could feel the other man’s fingers twitch in response before settling back down. And then Tony’s mouth was over his, firm and warm, edging on gentle possessives, like he was fearful Stephen would disappear otherwise. And Stephen couldn’t help the feeling of elation that ran through him, desire and excitement coursing through his veins, and love, so much love that he’d kept so carefully hidden that it threatened to burst through him and obliterate him under detonation of pleasure and jubilation. But then he couldn’t help the soft gasp that slipped through him when Tony’s tongue slipped out to prod his mouth open and before he knew it Tony had pulled back with a look of astonishment. He paused for a minute before speaking.

 “How many tongues do you have?” he asked, voice cracking a little in what could either be unresolved glee or horror.

 “Five.”

 “Jesus, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.” Tony mumbled lowering his gaze and laughing softly to himself. “Fuck, Stephen what the hell are you doing to me.”

 “To be fair, I wasn’t aware I had done anything to begin with.” Stephen breathed out.

 Tony chuckled then, and one of Stephen’s tendrils reached up to stroke his face. Tony flinched before relaxing and let his gaze roam over the red appendage. Then to Stephen’s abject horror he ran his tongue over it before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it softly. Stephen shuddered, a breathy moan making its way out of him as something carnal stirred within him. He bit his lip, knowing well that his face was flushed and his eyes were blown wide with arousal and need. Finally Tony slipped out the tendril from his mouth to study Stephen pensively. Stephen whined under his fervent gaze and tried to look away but Tony’s hands were firm and unyielding, so he closed his eyes instead.

 “Stephen, look at me.” Tony commanded gently.

 Stephen opened his eyes, face scrunched up as he regarded Tony.

 “There you are.” Tony said before smiling and Stephen’s breath hitched as he took it in. For the first time since arriving Tony’s face was relaxed and comfortable and Stephen had no idea what to do now that the warmth of it was directed at him. “I found you, after all.”

 They would talk more after, about lot things. Would discuss Stephen’s current ghastly appearance further, and Tony would insist that it didn’t bother him (it really didn’t). And they’d talk about Stephen’s decisions on titan, about what he saw and why he had left. Maybe not all in one sitting, but they would. Because they had all the time in the world, Stephen had made sure of it. But for now, they would enjoy each other here, along with Stephen’s many faces and eyes and whatever. And Stephen would let himself enjoy it for just a second.

 Because Stephen wasn’t a monster after all.

 “Yes, you did.”

 And Tony knew that too.

[wolf-and-bard]

@winter-fir: Sofia, my darling, this was written as a birthday present and with you in mind. Thank you for being such a delightful, funny, mad scientist genius friend, I love you. I wanted to give you some Arnaghad/Erland fluff and it didn’t turn out fluffy at all, it’s a rambly mess and I’m sorry. It did turn into a continuation and a prompt fill, I hope you don’t mind. 😂 I also hope you ate a lot of cake today ❤

Steal My Heart Again

Prompt: Isolation

Relationships: Arnaghad/Erland of Larvik

Rating: E

Content Warnings: apocalypse-appropriate sentiments (aka hopelessness), explicit sexual content, swear words, minor character death (past)

Summary: This is a sequel to Drown With Me If You Can. Erland and Arnaghad have made it to the safety of Kaer Seren’s cellars and have to face life during the apocalypse. They cope in different ways. In which: Erland wallows some more and Arnaghad wants cuddles. 

Word Count: ~3k

AO3 Link I @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

In the latter years of the 1130s, a conflict between the Northern Realms of Redania, Kaedwen, and Kovir and Poviss sprouted up in which Kovir and Poviss petitioned to gain sovereignty.

Erland pauses to ponder his next words and in that pause, becomes aware of something stirring.

Witchers usually sniff and listen before something breeches their line of sight, but with his beloved bear, it’s even more intense. Erland can hear the giant’s footsteps pound in tune with his own heart as soon as Arnaghad rises from his meditative perch at least four rooms down the hallway. Erland can smell the endorphins that chase each other through Arnaghad’s bloodstream as soon as he calls out for Erland, still far away. They have a different scent for every person and witcher picking up on them.

For Erland, Arnaghad’s contentedness smells like toasted white bread and strawberry jam. Conversely, Arnaghad is reminded of the concoction of oils and herbs he treats his old bearskin with so that it retains its texture whenever Erland smiles. Everything about Arnaghad is intense, as is the emotional knot Erland carries tucked between his lungs, the one that is made up of strings of the past and present that have become inevitably entangled. There is no easy emotion here and so Erland shoves them all aside in favour of putting down his next lines.

It came to pass that, under the supervision of the Hierarch of Novigrad, then Walter Beda, the rulers of the three countries met to negotiate the agreement. King Radovid III of Redania and King Benda of Kaedwen sailed on the Redanian flagship Alata to Lan Exeter where Gedovius Troyden, then Earl and later King of Kovir, met them, accompanied by his wife Gemma. Thus, the First Treaty of Lan Exeter was forged, and Kovir and Poviss gained the right to call themselves a kingdom.

Erland blows on the ink and the smell intensifies so much that his mouth waters. He glances to the side to see the bear appear in the hallway.

“There you are,” Arnaghad rumbles when he arrives at Erland’s small chamber which used to be a storage for barrels in need of repair. He shoulders through the narrow doorway without knocks or ceremony, and his bare feet slap against the stone, warmed by an underground pool of water which is suffused by heat from the earth’s core. With the White Frost raging outside the keep of Kaer Seren - in whose basement they currently reside in - even that heat will fade and freeze, but it has not been touched yet. They have not been touched yet, they made it to the safety of this hidden hearth and it nearly cost them their lives. “What are you doing, birdie?”

“Writing,” Erland says absent-mindedly and growls when Arnaghad’s hulking form blots out the light of half the torches as he approaches the makeshift desk. It’s a splintered plank of wood propped up on two empty barrels, a third one – overturned – functioning as the chair. The rest of the room is bare save for the rusted grates in which the torches reside and a wicker basket full of half-rotten corks. The griffins used to collect them to fashion floormats for the baths with. The griffins that now lay buried under rubble, only a story or two above Erland’s and Arnaghad’s heads. He tries not to think about that as he writes, writes, writes.

“Why, thank you dearest beloved, I had not figured that out for myself.”

Erland shrugs and bends further over his page. He is halfway through his account and he has to keep going while the words still come easily and his hand hasn’t cramped up. It tends to do that a lot these days, whether from writing, shovelling endless masses of snow or from stroking Arnaghad’s oversized cock. The first one is a need to preserve what might otherwise get lost, the second a necessity so their one exit from Kaer Seren doesn’t get blocked completely. The third activity is all pleasure and indulgence and re-learning the body of a man he thought lost to him for so long.

Arnaghad, the obnoxious idiot, steps closer and squints over Erland’s shoulder which truly sucks up the rest of the flickering illumination. His burly hand comes to rest on Erland’s head – now freshly shaven into his preferred undercut again with his hair woven into complex patterns Arnaghad yet remembers from his home – and his chin presses against Erland’s temple.

“’Kovir’s Independence and the First Treaty of Lan Exeter’,” Arnaghad reads out loud from the top of the page. “The fuck does this have to do with you? Are you trying to write a world history?”

“You forget where we are,” Erland murmurs and finishes his sentence, placing a small asterisk with a number ten atop the last word for yet another footnote.

“I haven’t.” Arnaghad plucks the feather from Erland’s hand and rises a little, takes the bent fingers into his own and strokes along them to straighten them out, one by one. Erland sighs and sags against the bear, letting fatigue wash over him, wash away his ambition for the day. “You forget where you are. Who you are and who you are with.”

“I might have,” he admits sheepishly and closes his eyes, listens to the faint gurgle of Arnaghad’s stomach. It’s a simple, well-crafted lie. Erland never forgets and how could he?

“I understood the journal,” Arnaghad says. “Well, I wasn’t willing to give my life for it as you were, but I understood why you wrote it. The ice might melt, the beasts might return and for that, whoever is to inhabit this world may need the information you captured. But this is unfathomable.”

“Of course, it would be to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” Erland says and melts as Arnaghad’s hands let go of his to gently massage his shoulders. It’s only when the static pain slowly ebbs away that Erland realizes just how long he’s been sitting hunched over his notes. Each word an investment with so little parchment leftover.

“Then what? Why are you doing this?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Erland sighs and ducks out of his lover’s grip to get up and pop his joints. Avoiding Arnaghad’s gaze, Erland extinguishes the torches with a flurry of precise Aards and makes to leave the room.

The bear wouldn’t understand in a million years why Erland writes the chronicle, would probably call it a waste of energy and resources. There is utility in writing a bestiary, there is only sentiment in writing a history. And perhaps a flicker of hope that whatever civilization rises from the rubble of the Ice Age will not repeat their forebearer’s mistakes. Except no. Erland may be an idealist at heart, but not enough that this hope has a chance of threading through the fabric of his motivation.

His motivation is woven in entirely selfish materials. It’s distraction, it’s occupation, it’s indulging in self-pity and nostalgia, melancholy and pride. It’s to keep himself from spiralling into depression and forgetfulness, to keep his brain from deterioration. Between fucking and eating and sleeping, Erland needs mental stimulation more than exercise.

Arnaghad, on the other hand, spends his hours in meditation and weapon-less drills, doing push-ups by the hundreds, handstands by the hours, pull-ups by the thousands. His massive body, in spite of the lethargy and sluggishness his form might suggest, needs constant movement. To prevent muscle atrophy and to keep himself alert and strong for whatever they have to face.

For now, what they have to face is endless isolation. Just the two of them, a slowly but steadily dwindling supply of dried meats and herbs, pickled vegetables and fruit, and barrels upon barrels of ale. Most of them brewed with the recipe Keldar perfected over decades of teaching young griffins to hold their alcohol alongside their swords.

Keldar.

Erland tries not to think of the old griffin master, especially tries not to think about how they found his body, a frozen statue before the crumpled gates of Kaer Seren, half-buried in snow by the time that Arnaghad and Erland fought their way to the keep. He’d survived the avalanche, had stayed at the school, and Erland had abandoned him. Him too.

Dear old Keldar, dutiful to his last moments. It was what every griffin would have done, every one except for Erland it seemed.

“Birdie,” Arnaghad says, tapping the side of Erland’s skull where his griffin tattoo decorates his shaved skin. They walk side by side, down the endless winding corridors of Kaer Seren’s basement system towards the centre where the heat is the most intense. It’s also where they set up their meagre bedroll, a heap of old linens with Erland’s quilt and Arnaghad’s bearskin on top. “You’re getting lost in your thoughts again.”

“What were you saying?” Erland asks and pushes open the door to their bedroom. Slap, slap, go Arnaghad’s feet as he enters while Erland’s follows after him. He wears both their socks, still more prone to the cold even down here.

“Nothing,” Arnaghad says. He stops in the middle of their room – all grey brick cast in flame from the torches Erland managed to keep perpetually burning. It’s a trick he perfected back when the signs where first developed where he can attach the power of a sign to an object. So, he tethered an Igni to each of the torches, and he did not tell Arnaghad that this constantly pulls on his own energy. The bear would worry and call that too a waste of resources. But Erland would rather be tired by firelight than wide-awake in perpetual darkness, calculating in his head the days that remain to them. “Come here, you look fatigued.”

Erland catches Arnaghad’s steady gaze, darkened by his heavy brow and chiselled face, a small smile tugging on his oh so stoic lips. His hair is neatly bound at the base of his skull, two ceremonial mini-braids framing his cheeks to either side. He wears naught but a simple set of beige linen clothes these days, linens that tug and pull at his bulging muscles. He’s more than a brick wall, he’s as unmoving as the very ground they stand on. Arnaghad cannot be taken apart with brute force, it takes more subtler means of attack to undo him. Erland knows them all intimately and perhaps that is exactly why Arnaghad opens his arms to him then. Erland sighs. He has the rest of Radovid III’s reign to chronicle and his stomach is still on fast-mode. The only reason he came here in the first place was… to… Erland sneezes and the torches flicker. He knows when he’s defeated.

“I am tired,” he admits and crosses the distance between them. If ever there is such a space, unbridgeable at times, invisible at others, it is because Erland put it there. Not intentionally and not always happily, but if things went Arnaghad’s way, they would be close always. The man that envelops Erland in a tight hug has a constant hunger for touch and affection, and Erland has trouble having that piece slide into the greater mosaic he has constructed of his lover over the past centuries.

‘You’re getting old and sappy,’ Erland said to him once, three orgasms into the night and Arnaghad still insisted on holding him close. ‘Sappy and cuddly. I do not recognize you.’

‘Nor I myself,’ Arnaghad replied. If they were other people they might have attributed it to love, how it had overcome everything, how, here at the end of all things, it was them against the apocalypse. How they needed to hold onto each other for there was nothing else to hold onto. But Erland is an idealist, not a romantic, and Arnaghad a pragmatist, not an intellectual, and so that was where the conversation died then.

“You should rest more,” Arnaghad says.

“What a waste of time,” Erland replies and rises to the tips of his toes, uses Arnaghad’s bull neck for purchase to pull himself up. They’re barely eye to eye, but that doesn’t matter when he can finally tilt his head and kiss the tiny frown from Arnaghad’s face. It’s a matter of last resort as well as personal pleasure. Erland is in no mood to argue about his newfound hobby and he does want. Wants so much, so deeply it aches to the core of his bones. They’re still working through their differences – and that, he suspects, will take longer than any written history might – but with each day, Erland can allow himself a little more. He can allow himself to slot their lips together and push his tongue deeply into Arnaghad’s mouth, can allow himself to melt into his bear’s arms and let his rumbling groan rattle his skeleton. Erland smiles at the zealous manner in which Arnaghad’s whole body responds to the kiss. His hands, splayed across Erland’s shoulder blades, tighten, his cock stirs when Erland licks and sucks and adds a moan of his own, his shoulders rise. He’s so passionate, has so much to give, something that Erland has trouble keeping up with.

If half of this witcher had been the one leading the bear school, where could it have climbed to? What could it have accomplished if the abysses between its members hadn’t been quite so gaping? Erland tries not to wonder, tries not to rewrite the course of time in endless thought spirals, but it’s so hard. It’s another reason why he has to focus on the actual past. Because if he doesn’t remind himself that it is set in stone, if he doesn’t capture it with his own words, he starts to trail down the paths of forgotten ‘what ifs’, of unforgettable ‘what ifs’, of the ‘what ifs’ that are neither forgotten nor unforgettable, that are too daring to even consider. Erland loses himself in thought and it is then perhaps a blessing that he can lose himself in Arnaghad’s embrace instead.

“Do you think we could have dinner tonight?” Arnaghad asks after they part, even though he knows the answer. It’s worrying, a true sign that not even Arnaghad has an endless reservoir of energy. His hunger is much more vicious than Erland’s and it’s getting harder and harder for him to wait the intervals they settled on in order to stretch the food as long as they can. Usually, he doesn’t ask. Usually, his voice doesn’t sound so small. Fuck. It’s heart-breaking.

“Not yet, big bear, I’m sorry,” Erland sighs and noses along Arnaghad’s jaw, then sinks back down to his feet and presses his face into the crook of his neck. Wraps his arms around Arnaghad’s middle. Is proud when he doesn’t do the mental math right then and there. No, he won’t torment himself and he won’t succumb to the slight growl Arnaghad gives. Whether it’s from his throat or his stomach doesn’t really matter. The sound pierces Erland’s armour, but it doesn’t shatter. He’s still strong. Can still be strong. “Do you want me to distract you?”

“Ah, birdie, didn’t we just talk about how you’re tired?”

“I’d make a joke about being hungry myself,” Erland mutters, then licks over Arnaghad’s pulse point insistently. “But last I checked, your sense of humour is still as barren as the Korath desert.”

Arnaghad chuckles and the motion slightly shakes Erland where he rests against the bear’s chest. He lets his hand slide down to gingerly palm across Arnaghad’s half-hard cock and it rises to the touch, firms up. He closes his eyes and sucks on his own bottom lip. So easy to please.

“Says the man who thinks fun is a torture device,” Arnaghad retorts on a sigh and as such, it lacks an edge. Erland deftly plucks at the fastenings of the linen trousers and slips his hand into them. Arnaghad’s flesh is hot and solid, too big to wrap his fingers around.

“Alas,” Erland murmurs against the skin of Arnaghad’s neck, cranes his own to nibble on the bear’s jawbone, tracing it with his tongue. “My hand is tried from writing all morning.”

“All day more like,” Arnaghad grumbles.

“Even worse. It’s of no use now.” And with that, he gently guides Arnaghad to the corner where their makeshift bed is, bids him to sit down and takes his own place in Arnaghad’s lap with his belly pressed to the warm floor. Propped up on his elbows, Erland peers up at Arnaghad. From this low, the man seems taller than a mountain, his eyes far away, half-lidded and hazy and Erland smiles. He is tired, yes, so very tired, and that means he is sloppy. Sloppy as he descends over the head of Arnaghad’s massive cock which tastes salty and musky and he laps it all up he goes with lazy drags of his tongue. His lips are loose and his hands looser as they fondle Arnaghad’s cock at the base, toy with his balls.

Before long, spit leaks out of the corners of his mouth and runs down Arnaghad’s length and the low moans of the bear thunder through the hall, echo off the walls, loud enough to raise the dead, Erland thinks sometimes. He wishes he could revive his brothers and sons by cock-sucking alone, but the world has never been that simple. And it won’t ever be now. But if he can give Arnaghad pleasure and himself something to get distracted by then that should be enough.

Erland gets drunk on Arnaghad’s cock, chokes on it as he ruts into the floor without shame. They come within seconds of each other and Erland drinks up what he can, lets the rest spill over Arnaghad’s lap, then cleans that with his tongue too. After, he falls asleep there, curled into a ball in Arnaghad’s lap and it is enough. For now.

[bevvydraws]

Sweet Justice (cont.)

1, 2, 3

Chapter 4

Chat Noir almost wanted to groan at his current predicament. Tied up by a rope that the knights had managed to scrounge up somewhere, unable to move and a million thoughts racing through his head. 

Ladybug is--was--Marinette. 

Marinette is now akumatized. 

Chat Noir loves Ladybug. 

Adrien loves Marinette.

Adrien didn’t see that Marinette was struggling. He didn’t see that she needed help. He wasn’t there for her as a friend or as a partner. He had failed. She probably got akumatized because she felt she couldn’t trust anyone, even him. Even Chat Noir. 

Chat Noir began panicking slightly, feeling overwhelmed by the new information and not sure where to go from here. This would normally be the part where Ladybug would tell him her plan and he would see it through with her. But Ladybug wasn’t here. And she wouldn’t be showing up any time soon. He looked around at his classmates, all turned into knights ready to follow Princess Justice to the ends of the Earth if she asked. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset at them, because he could only imagine the guilt they must have felt before succumbing to her powers. 

He had to figure out how to escape without hurting any of them. Chat Noir sat quietly, gently chewing on his lip as he racked his brain with ideas. His baton was just out of reach, no one taking it since Princess Justice hadn’t told them to. If he could just stretch his leg out far enough to get his baton back, he’d feel a lot more prepared to make another move. Chat Noir tried to subtly stretch his leg out, scooting forward a little bit in order to get the toe of his boot around the baton. He had almost had it back to him when the classroom door opened. 

In walked Ivan and Kim, the two knights who had carried Lila to outside to be publicly humiliated in her stocks. In the back of his mind, Chat Noir was pleased with that knowledge. Behind Ivan and Kim, however, walked a third knight that Chat didn’t recognize. As the knight marched to him, Chat scooted himself backwards as far against the wall as he could, his baton forgotten. Normally, Chat wouldn’t have acted so cowardly in front of a villain. 

But these weren’t villains. These were good people protecting someone dear to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel right now. 

The knight stopped in front of him, extending a hand out to show that they were holding a letter. Chat looked up at them, and trying to sound as normal as possible, said, “Now I can’t very well take that letter with my arms behind my back, now can I?”

While this was meant to be sarcastic, the knights looked at each other pensively. 

“Her Royal Highness told me to deliver this letter to him,” the knight holding the letter said, “and to only let him read it.” 

Nino looked at him, glazed over eyes narrowed in contemplation. Alya spoke up, “If Her Royal Highness wants him to read it, then we have no choice but to untie him long enough to let him do so.” 

“You’re right,” Nino nodded, before forcing Chat Noir to stand up and beginning to untie him, “No funny business, cat.” Chat tried not to think too hard about how the voice coming out of his best friend was Nino’s voice, but at the same time sounded nothing like him. 

“Cat’s honor,” Chat replied smoothly, forcing his usual confident attitude. Once he was untied, he took the letter from the knight and read over the letter as the knights were on guard, expecting him to try and escape. 

“Dear Chat Noir,” the letter started, “You have no obligation to trust me, but I have no intention of giving Hawkmoth what he wants. I have a plan, but I need you to help in order for things to go in our favor. I know where his lair is. I was right before to suspect Gabriel Agreste. I know this will be hard on you… given your identity, but I trust that you will help me on my quest to make things right once and for all.” Chat felt tears well up in his eyes, not sure whether to cry over the fact his father was Hawkmoth afterall, or over the fact that Marinette said she trusted him even now. Wiping his tears away before they could even fall, he continued reading, “I need you to remain a prisoner for now, and trust me.” At the bottom of the letter the name Princess Justice was signed in regal, swooping letters, but it was obvious that she wrote this in a hurry. 

Chat Noir folded the letter up and stuck it in the pocket of his suit before holding his hands out in surrender. “Alright, you can tie me back up now.” 

--------

“It’s odd that Ladybug hasn’t shown up yet,” Princess Justice mused out loud, feigning concern. “Maybe she doesn’t care about her little kitten as much as she previously let on.” She mostly said this out loud for Hawkmoth’s benefit, as she had come to realize that Hawkmoth couldn’t read her thoughts, only hear what she was saying. Even the view he had from her eyes seemed to be limited, as he hadn’t said anything about the note she had written to Chat Noir. 

Now all Princess Justice had to do was act busy as she assembled her army. She could feel her ranks growing, a single thought resonating clearly throughout everyone’s minds: to seek justice. To free Paris of the plague it had been cursed with for so long. It was time to set things right. 

As she moved through the streets, she had a flock of knights surrounding her at all times. She was more than capable of defending herself, and she was confident no one would try and attack her, but she had to save face before Hawkmoth became too suspicious of her. “Set up a throne for me in the school courtyard. I have a few declarations to make. Our army is just about large enough.” 

-------

It didn’t take long for everything to be set up in the gym. A makeshift throne was quickly built by dismantling various furniture around the school. It wasn’t perfect, but Princess Justice found herself fond of it anyways. It was situated on the upper floor of the school overlooking the rest of the courtyard. Princess Justice was already settled into place on her throne, Alya and Nino on either side of her as her most trusted and dearest knights. 

Of course, when she had approached the school she had seen Lila in her stocks, no longer screaming but begging desperately to be released. She whined and complained about her wrists being sore, and her back hurting from her awkward standing position. Princess Justice was barely able to contain her laughter, finding humor in the situation. Because for once, Lila was being honest about her ailments. But despite that, she did not stop to give Lila any attention and simply brushed passed her like she wasn’t there. 

Now that she was away from Lila, however, she allowed her amused smirk to grace her lips as she looked down at the courtyard. Slowly, the area below was being filled by knights. One by one, or sometimes in small groups, they would march in and automatically fall into formation. They stared ahead at nothing, on standby until their Princess addressed them. Princess Justice turned to Alya, “How did our kitten behave?” she asked, keeping things cryptic enough to where Hawkmoth would not understand what she was actually asking. 

“He seemed dejected the entire time, Highness,” Alya responded, “but he did not put up a fight.” 

“Excellent,” Princess Justiced said, with a little too much relief in her tone. She coughed quietly and looked to Nino, “Get someone to bring him out here to me. I want him right at my feet.” In a flash, Nino was gone, and a moment later he and Kim were bringing Chat Noir to her. Chat didn’t struggle even the slightest bit, his gaze fixed to the floor as he was forced to sit on the ground right next to her feet. 

“Oh kitty,” Princess Justice crooned sweetly, her fingers slightly ruffling his hair, “I know how hard it must be for you, not knowing where your spotted heroine is. You must feel so abandoned and alone.” She knew she would have to play up her role as someone on Hawkmoth’s side, but she prayed her kitten would be able to read between the lines. 

“I know my Lady hasn’t abandoned me,” Chat whispered, “She’s never let me down before. I don’t believe she’d start now.” 

Princess Justice was touched, but wouldn’t let it show. Taking advantage of Hawkmoth’s limited sight through her eyes, she gently tilted Chat Noir’s face up to look at her and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. Chat’s eyes were watery, and he sniffled the tiniest bit, but he still grinned at her. The same grin he always gave Ladybug. 

But there was something more to it now. The innocence and trust in his eyes, even behind the mask, reminded Princess Justice so much of Adrien. Chat Noir was so naive in most things, despite his obvious intelligence and competence as a hero. He flirted clumsily, as if he were the protagonist in a cheesy rom-com, but it was obviously genuine. He made poorly timed jokes, like someone who hadn’t been taught to read a room, but he never had ill intentions. 

Yes, it was obvious to Princess Justice now, that Adrien and Chat Noir were one and the same, and briefly she wondered why she had never put two and two together before. But she knew the answer. She was afraid of knowing. Afraid that once the secrets were gone she would be forced to open up more of herself to him, something she wasn’t sure she could do. Her fear of showing weakness to one of the most important people in her life, even though he’d never given her reason to fear opening up to him, crippled her to the point where she wasn’t able to see the answer right in front of her. 

Literally, he sat right in front of her. And she never noticed. 

If Hawkmoth knew that the owner of one of the miraculouses he was so desperately hunting was his son, would he stop? Would he feel guilt or remorse? Princess Justice sincerely doubted it, and the thought made her heart break. 

“Ladybug won’t show,” Princess Justice whispered, “Obviously she’s too much of a coward.” 

“You and I must be talking about different Ladybugs,” came Chat’s quick response. 

Princess Justice wanted to argue, but it would do no good. She had a mission to accomplish. Slipping another note to Chat Noir, detailing her plan to take down Hawkmoth, she stood from her throne and made her way to the railing. Instantly all eyes below were on her, their attention focused entirely on the powerful presence before them. 

“My dear knights. Today is a day that will go down in history. Today, you shall protect me on my journey to escort Chat Noir to Hawkmoth personally. Should anyone stand in our way, I trust you will take care of them quickly and with grace. Our aim is not to harm anyone, because violence only breeds more violence,” her voice rang out into the courtyard, her words like a magic spell. Which, technically, was true for the knights. But it was likely that even those untouched by the macarons would have followed her anyways. “There is no time like the present, and since Ladybug is nowhere to be found, we’ll take Chat Noir first and then go bug hunting after!” 

The crowd of knights let out a resounding cheer, ready to serve their Princess. She smiled down at the sea of supporters, and felt a sense of relief. Everything was going to be okay. She would be able to pull this off. No one was going to get in the way of her justice. 

The only warning signs before the attack was the sound of soft footfall on the school roof behind her. Princess Justice barely had time to process as she ungracefully leapt out of the way. A red flash whirred by her before the shape retreated back towards the roof. She would recognize that sound anywhere. 

It was her yoyo. 

Someone had donned her old earrings. 

“Ladybug?”

-----------

taglist:  @fandom-trapped-03 , @justafanwarrior , @ultimatetornshipper , @lunadensmidnightprowl​ , @starpony999​ , @minth0l-illness , @the-bollywood-miraculous-girl​ , @akioshiwarrior​ ,  @queencommonsense ,  @id-dance-with-draco ,  @all-mights-asscheeks , 

Author’s note: so this will probably be the last chapter for a few days (i have exams until the 16th so ~fun~). But! There will hopefully be some artwork and doodles that i can post between now and the next chapter. 

Thank you for the support on this story so far! I’m glad everyone seems to be enjoying it and I’m excited to keep working on it! 

[hopeymchope]

The Pre-Valentine’s Meeting: A Danganronpa Fic

Summary: Leon Kuwata calls together the men of Hope's Peak's 78th class in an attempt to learn who is expecting to receive Valentine's chocolate from which of their female classmates.

Links:

The Pre-Valentine’s Meeting on AO3

The Pre-Valentine’s Meeting on FF.Net

Or you can read it below the cut if you like.

"What's up, my dudes?" Leon Kuwata said as he strolled into the dining hall. He was addressing the longest table in the hall, where all of the other openly male members of the 78th class were currently seated.

In contrast to Leon's jovial attitude, Byakuya Togami looked deeply irritated. "We should be the ones asking that," he said irritably, "Since this meeting was at your insistence."

"This gathering is an important opportunity regardless of why Kuwata-kun requested it," Kiyotaka Ishimaru declared proudly, directing his comments towards Byakuya. "We must make the most of this chance to maximize our bonds as men!"

"I suppose I'm down with what bro said," Mondo Owada offered, "But does it gotta happen so late?"

"I'd never have guessed you're the early-to-bed type, Owada-kun," Makoto Naegi said with a light laugh.

Before Mondo could respond, Hifumi Yamada interjected: "It's only midnight! I'd normally be working until at least 2 a.m. on my latest doujin!"

"I ain't against a late night," Mondo said to Makoto. "But we gotta be real here, man — it's only Thursday."

"Exactly!" Leon replied, still standing. "It's basically already the weekend! Besides, don't tell me that your gang never got up to anything on Thursday nights."

"Not this late," Mondo told him. He smiled as he added, "Gotta save that energy so we can really tear it up on Friday night, y'know?"

"I do hold reservations about whether this will negatively impact our performance tomorrow," Taka said. "However, as there are no tests scheduled for this Friday, I believe the benefits of this male bonding time will outweigh the possible blowback!"

"Whatever, thanks for that," Leon said dismissively. "Let's get down to business," he said, pivoting to something that put much more passion in his voice. "We're a week and a half out from V-Day, and I am here to find out who among us is expecting Valentine's chocolate from which ladies!"

Makoto closed his eyes and hung his head. Mondo audbily groaned.

Yasuhiro Hagakure, on the other hand, grinned. "If that's all ya wanna know, I'll be happy to peer into the future for you!" he told Leon. "I've got a special Valentine deal going: Just 100 million yen!"

Now everyone at the table groaned. Makoto leaned over and gently told Hiro, "Ah, nobody here is gonna go for that. Sorry."

Byakuya Togami stood up. "If there's nothing else... " he muttered, then pivoted to face the door.

"Please, Togami-kun!" Taka said, reaching out with an open palm. "Without the full complement of our brethren, this male-bonding activity will be incomplete!"

Togami gave him a withering look. "I couldn't possibly care about that," he said. "I only came here to this gathering in the first place to satisfy my mild curiosity about what Kuwata considered so urgent." He moved his attention to Leon. "I admit that I didn't expect much, but you actually surprised me, Kuwata."

"How's that?" Leon said.

Byakuya smirked. "This was an even more foolish waste of time than I anticipated." He turned away once more. "Don't bother me again." With that, he walked out.

Taka looked crestfallen, but Leon didn't even visibly react to the insult. "Whatever," he said, shrugging. "He's only gonna get chocolate from Fukawa anyway."

Hifumi rubbed his chin. "Even if that's true, wouldn't her dual nature mean he'll get two gifts?"

"Dude, who even cares about that?" Leon responded. He pointed a finger at the side of his head. "Are you brain dead or something? It's not about how much chocolate you get — it's about the ladies you get it from!"

Hifumi gently adjusted his glasses with one hand. "Speak for yourself," he said back. "3D women mean nothing to me."

Mondo chuckled a little. "So nobody in our class is good enough for ya?" he prodded. "That the size of it?"

"Nothing so entitled," Hifumi said. "3D women are just too complicated, too... messy. With my 2D girls, I always know where I stand. The flags for instigating romance are always obvious, and in most cases, the ladies respond positively to those flags regardless of any other factors."

"Sure," Leon said, unconvinced. He finally sat down, slipping into a chair across from Hifumi, then leaning forward to bring himself closer. Hifumi instinctively leaned away. "Are you really gonna sit there and pretend there's not a single girl in the class who's even got you a little interested in the real thing?" Leon pressed.

Hifumi began to sweat. "We-well, I... I suppose... " He placed his forefinger across his lips and looked downward. "I mean... I guess I wouldn't mind if Chihiro Fujisaki-dono g-gave me some chocolate... "

Mondo glanced sideways and pursed his lips. "Huh," he muttered.

Leon rubbed the hair hanging off his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he looked at Hifumi skeptically. "But is that, uh... likely?"

Hifumi looked dubious, but he managed a smile. "We've enjoyed working together on some projects in the past. Perhaps some Friend Chocolate... ?"

Leon shook his head. "Man, that's the worst kind of chocolate," he said.

"Philistine!" Hifumi suddenly declared. He thrust forward one hand, pointing dramatically at Leon as he bellowed, "All chocolate is precious!"

Leon folded his arms and leaned his head back. "Don't get all high-and-mighty with me. You know damn well the kinda chocolate I wanna hear about, man!"

"Well both of you shut the hell up?!" Mondo yelled, slamming a fist on the table. Everyone jerked backwards. Hifumi let out a small yelp of surprise. Makoto flailed his arms a bit. Unphased, Mondo continued, "Your dumbass argument doesn't matter!"

After an awkward beat of silence from the group, Taka was the first one to lean back into position. Sitting beside Mondo, he sternly said, "Bro, you know that kind of language is-"

Mondo waved him off. "Yeah, I know, I know. Sorry, bro."

Leon swallowed and tried to hold his ground. "Well, it still matters to me what kind of chocolate it is."

"That's not even what I was talkin' about," Mondo grumbled, looking away.

Taka's brow furrowed. "Then what did you mean by saying that it 'doesn't matter'?"

Mondo looked at him with irritation. "Just that... look, Fujisaki... " He paused and cleared his throat, then looked down at the floor. "They ain't plannin' to give anybody anything more than Friend Chocolate, okay?!"

There was another moment of silence that was soon interrupted by a loud gasp from Hiro. "This is awful!" he shouted. "Owada-chi! How come you never told me you're a psychic, too?!"

Before Mondo could protest, Taka stepped in. "That is not what bro is saying!" Taka told Hiro confidently. "Clearly, he learned this because he and Fujisaki-kun discuss workout tips!"

Makoto looked at Mondo with an expression of surprise on his face that transitioned into something else as he narrowed his eyes. He said, "So Owada-kun, are you saying that you just... asked her?"

Mondo eyes locked with his so quickly that Makoto flinched. "Hell no!" Mondo replied. "They just said so, okay?!"

This inspired a chuckle from Leon. "Maybe she was trying to keep you from getting your hopes up," he said, smiling.

Now it was Leon's turn to be on the receiving end of Mondo's glare. "God dammit, it ain't like that!" Mondo said.

"C-can we just move on from Fujisaki-dono already?" Hifumi said as visible sweat beaded upon his face. "Leon Kuwata-dono — why don't you volunteer information on the chocolate you expect to receive? You were the one to initiate this meeting, after all."

Letting out a fake sigh, Leon grinned as he said, "I get it. Everybody wants to know what Valentine's Day looks like for a real ladies' man. And yes, I'm sure I'll be getting chocolate from many of my fans."

Mondo let out a guffaw. "Is one of those 'fans' your cousin?" he teased.

Leon rolled his eyes. "I mean... she'll probably send me some too, but no, I meant-"

"I was asking about our classmates," Hifumi interrupted, pointing at Leon. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the rim of his glasses. "Are any of them your 'fans'?"

At this, Leon frowned a little. "Well... I'm hoping to receive some from somebody, but I kinda think she might have her eyes on somebody else... " His gaze drifted over to Makoto.

Makoto smiled nervously, holding up his hands in defense. "Hey now... I'm not expecting chocolate from anybody." At that, the entire rest of the table burst into laughter. Makoto looked around at everyone in confusion. "What?!" he demanded. "What'd I say?!"

As he stopped chuckling, Mondo bowed his head. "Dude, you really are clueless."

Makoto threw up his hands. "About what?"

"For starters, Maizono-chan is constantly by your side," Leon pointed out.

"She's a good friend!" Makoto insisted. "And that's all!"

Taka spoke up next. "I have noticed that Ikusaba-kun speaks with you more than most of our classmates."

Makoto shook his head rapidly. "Ikusaba-san is a friend, too! She's not, like... into me or anything like that."

"You and the detective girl seem pretty close," Hifumi observed.

Makoto looked away. "Kirigiri-san is... uh, sh-she wouldn't be interested in someone like me... " he said softly.

"Like I said," Mondo remarked. "You're clueless."

"You've got it wrong!" Makoto exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He pointed one hand dramatically around the table as he said, "Just because I'm friends with these girls doesn't mean they want to be my girlfriend!"

"And what about you?" Leon pressed. "Do you want to date any of them?"

Makoto opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His face reddened, and he slowly slumped back into his seat. "I'll... deal with that on White Day," he finally murmured.

Leon leaned back and and raised an eyebrow at Makoto. "Yeah, about White Day... Do I gotta get your permission before I give any of those girls chocolate?"

Raising his forefinger to the side of his mouth, Makoto scratched at his cheek and said, "No no, you're fine!" After a momentary pause, he added, "Uh, I assume you're talking about Maizono-san?"

Leon visibly cringed. "If you know that I'm into her, does that mean Maizono-chan knows?"

Makoto nodded a couple times. "She does have really good intuition," he said, smiling sympathetically.

Hiro rubbed his head sheepishly as he told Leon, "Actually, I knew you're gunning for her, too."

"Crap," Leon said emphatically. "If you could tell, everybody must know!"

"Hey — not everybody has my psychic power!" Hiro protested.

Mondo bowed his head a bit and countered, "Kuwata's got a point, man. I mean, I already knew."

Leon put his head in his hands. "And here I was already working out a grand romantic gesture for White Day," he grumbled.

Taka clenched his fist. "You can still do that!" he declared. "It need not be a complete surprise!"

Closing one eye tight, Leon looked upwards with the other as he considered that. "It loses some impact, but... yeah, maybe." He sat upright once more to look at Taka and Mondo, who were seated beside one another. “Let's just move on," Leon said quickly. "This is about the V-Day, not White Day. So what about you two?"

Mondo and Taka exchanged look, then simultaneously turned back to Leon. "What about us?" Mondo asked.

With exasperation, Leon asked, "What girls do you think you'll get chocolate from?"

Confused, Taka and Mondo looked at each other for a long moment. Then, slowly, they began to laugh.

As the two of them burst into hysterics, Leon threw up his hands in a shrug. "Am I missing something?"

Mondo gradually stopped laughing. "Who needs chocolate from girls?" he said. Throwing an arm around Taka, he grinned as he continued, "All I need is some chocolate from my bro here, and I'm set!"

Blushing, Taka put an arm around Mondo and exclaimed, "Same here!"

Leon closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, this is turning into a real bust," he grumbled.

"Perhaps the problem is that no one can truly know what to expect," Hifumi offered.

"Yeah," Hiro agreed. "None of us are in relationships, and I mean... when it comes to girls, most of us are just as clueless as Naegi-chi!"

"Hey!" Makoto protested.

Ignoring Makoto, a dismayed Leon acknowledged Hiro's remark. "Yeah, I'm getting that impression." Looking around at the group, he said, "Maybe I should've waited to ask for everyone's White Day plans. At least then it's all up to the guys."

Taka gave a swift nod to that. "It is easiest to know future events when you are the one who controls them," he stated.

Makoto frowned at Hiro. "You know, somehow it hurts more when you call me clueless... "

Hiro shrugged at him by way of apology. "My offer still stands for anyone interested, by the way," Hiro told the table. "Step right up and get your fortune told — learn which ladies will love you today!"

A variety of negative replies emerged from the rest of the table. "Not interested." "No, thank you." "Not a chance." "N-no, sorry." "Nuh-uh."

[bakugou-jpg]

Cherry wine || Single dad!Tsukishima

So hello! This is something i’ve been planning on posting for awhile now. Idk if i like it or not and Tsukishima might be a bit OOC since i haven’t been in the Haikyuu fandom for very long but oh well. Tomorrow i’ll try and post the masterlist for it and how many chapters it’ll have!

-Prologue-

“I’m pregnant”

The silence that fell over the room became deafening, not a single sound except for the distant students outside of the dorm building chatting and laughing together. The fan in the corner of the room buzzed, rotating left and right and rustling some papers on the desk. The wind softly blew through his hair, making the heat more bearable than it was before but at that very moment his thoughts and gone completely blank.

The girl in front of him leaned onto the desk that was placed behind her and knitted her eyebrows together, not in anger but purely because she had been lost in thought. Her arms were crossed and she looked at the boy's feet, biting her bottom lip while doing so.

To say it was a shock, was simply too lightly. I mean, yes, the two of them hadn't exactly done much to prevent it that night so it had been quite the possibility but it had never crossed his mind. She was pregnant, something he did. The clumb of cells that was currently busy forming into a little human was because of him.

"Tsukishima"

Tsukishima's head snapped up and for a moment his eyes widened slightly. They held eye contact for a moment, neither of them breaking it. They were both, confused. Neither of them knowing what to do know and neither of them knowing what to say.

The boy adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. He folded his hands together and fiddled around with them, something he unconciously did when he was nervous. "..Oh"

Its all he could think of at that moment. Tsukishima,  a man who always knew how to respond to whatever situation with either a logic answer or a cocky remark now felt silent. He was a rational person, but now it seemed that his brain short circuited.

The girl sighed, her eyes falling down to the ground once again. She moved one of her hands to rub over her face and then started biting her thumb nail. "I found out on Sunday. I..wanted to think about it myself a bit first. Hope you understand" She said, her voice trailing off.

Tsukishima nodded. "Of course."

Another silence.

There was one question he was dying to ask, of course, the most obvious one. He was a strong believer of the belief that it was her body and her choice and that he didn't have ANY saying in what she wanted to do, but he was still curious. At that moment he didn't even know which decision he wanted or preferred. Would it be bad if he asked? Or was it too soon?

"What do you- " "I-"

They both fell silent, not wanting to interrupt one another. Tsukishima excused himself and nodded towards her. "Sorry, go on".

The girl in front of her looked a little anxious and bit her lip before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes to calm her nerves. She breathed out and locked eyes with the boy standing in front of her. "I've thought about it..and decided what choice i wanted to make and i hope you can support me in that."

Tsukishima quickly nodded and waved his hand. "Your body your choice. Whatever decision you make i will respect it so do not rely on my approval" He said, something which made her worried expression relax. It felt as if there had bee a weight lifted off of her shoulders.

She nodded, letting her eyes roam around the room for a second trying to figure out how to put it into words.

"For the longest time i've planned out what i wanted to do with my life, with my future. Go to college, study to become an archeologist and become succesful and travel around..A baby can't fit into that plan, not yet."

Understandable. Tsukishima understood what she meant, for he too had a plan of what he wanted to do in the future. Work in a museum, it was something that he loved the idea of ever since he was a kid. She wanted to become something bigger, so of course a baby would only get in the way.

She cleared her throat and fiddled her hands. "I do, however, want to give it a chance of being able to live. For him or her to find out what joys life can gift to you and how wonderful the world can be..So i'm going to give them up for adop-"

"I'll raise them"

What.

The girl's eyes widened and she looked at Tsukishima in shock.

Tsukishima pushed himself off of the wall and looked at her for a second before taking a step closer to her. "I'll take responsibility and raise them."

What was he saying?

The girl blinked in surprise, her mouth slightly agape from the sudden response one that she had not expected in a million years. Tsukishima's eyebrows were slightly knitted, something which showed he was dear serious over this. "..please"

Why was he saying this?

The girl snapped out of her daze and ran her fingers through her hair, her other hand cupping her still flat stomach. "I-..Wh- Tsukishima..are you serious?" She asked in disbelieve, still taken aback from the reaction. "With all due respect, Tsukishima, but i really hope you understand i am not planning on raising this baby alongside you nor am i planning to hop in at a later age. I just-"

"I don't care for that. You won't have to be involved in any way, i'll make my own money, buy my own two bedroom apartment, raise my own kid. I'll work it out, if you want i'll cover half of all your medical bills" Tsukishima said while leaning back again, looking at her with his usual stoic expression again. Yet, his golden brown eyes held a mixture of confusion and fear. But that was something she would never be able to catch onto.

God what the fuck was he saying

The girl sighed and shook her head a little, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. "I mean..Medical bills won't be a problem, my family's wealthy enough to be able to cover that without a problem..I just..I thought you were passionate about this college course and wanting to succeed? Its not some kind of puppy you raise, can leave at home for the day and to come back at the end of the day and feed it and sometimes throw a stick around, Tsuki-"

"Do i look like an idiot to you?" Tsukishima said with narrowed eyebrows, tapping his finger on his other arm impatiently. Surely, he fooled around with her, but Tsukishima couldn't stand the way she thought she was better and smarter than him.

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. "You know what i mean" She snapped back. "Its gonna be a big responsibility, its gonna get in the way of you making it big out there."

Once again, a silence fell over the dorm.

Tsukishima's thoughts were screaming at him. Telling him this decision was an impulsive one, how he had to think it through first and asking him over and over again what he was thinking. He knitted his eyebrows together and stared at the ground, slowly nodding.

"I know what i'm doing"

No he did not

The girl nodded and shrugged, her eyes glancing to the clock hanging on his wall. She looked back at Tsukishima and hummed, pushing herself off of the desk. "Well, okay then. I've got class in ten minutes, we'll discuss the details later on. Take care" She said, pushing herself off of the desk. Her hand reached out for Tsukishima's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, something which made Tsukishima just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

He didn't even say anything, simply too caught up with the sea of a void that suddenly washed over him. It numbed all of his thoughts, all of his surroundings as the thumping of his own heartbeat echoed in his ear.

The click of his dorm room falling back into its lock flew past him, not even having noticed the girl had left. Tsukishima stood there for about 10 minutes until he was pulled back to the surface, something which made him fall back onto his bed. He put his elbows on his knees, his hands raking through his hair as he looked at his ground with slightly panicked eyes.

He let out a long sigh, his hand running over his face as he threw his head back and leaned it against the wall. It was already dark, the only people outside being the ones going to their night classes. It was cold, after all it was October and the weather hadn't been exactly the nicest out.

Tsukishima glanced out of his window, his eyes following the form of the girl who was just left his dorm and was now running outside to arrive at her class in time. His eyes were locked onto her until she had turned a corner, now out of sight.

What did he just agree to?

He let his eyes slowly slide down from his window to his bed, a place where his phone was resting. Without really thinking about it, he reached out for the phone, pressing a few buttons before bringing it up to his ear.

"..Tadashi? I..i fucked up"

Nine months felt a lot longer than it usually did. While a school year usually felt like it flew by rather quickly to Tsukishima, these past few months felt like as if there was a chain with a heavy ball chained to his ankles. Every minute, every second felt like it took forever.

As the trees lost their leaves, the snow covered the ground. As the snow melted away, the flowers started blooming again. As the flowers grew higher, the temperature did too. With every transmission, Tsukishima's feet grew heavier and heavier. It all lead up to that one moment. One moment that would change his life forever, a moment he'd remember till' the day he'd die.

As the seconds ticked by, they turned into minutes. As the small hand of the clock moved forward made a full circle, the hours started moving by. Slow, very slowly. Tsukishima lost sense of time, sitting in that chair waiting for someone to give him a sign and to inform him of the slightest bit of news. Anything.

His thoughts even stopped at some point. Surely he was panicking internally and the fact that his phone kept buzzing in his pocket, his family and Yamaguchi repeatedly asking him how it was going, didn't make it any better. Hell, the fact Yamaguchi managed to leak the information to his old teammates didn't soothen the buzz in his pockets at all. But he just stared at a wall.

The ticking of the clock, the water that dripped from the tap, the foot steps from the nurses, the distant screams of agony and the phone that rang every 15 minutes in the nurses office started to feel like a pattern. A never ending pattern that had repeated itself almost a million times already.

"Mr. Tsukishima?"

Fuck

Tsukishima's head snapped up and his eyes met the one of an older woman who was wearing a long blue cover up and a mask hanging next to the side of her head. She wore a smile on her face, a tired one, but a happy one. She had discarded the gloves she wore and Tsukishima noticed some light blood smears on the gown she was wearing.

"He's here"

He

In the past 9 months that had passed, Tsukishima had never thought that his feet could feel more heavier. But in that moment it felt as if Medusa herself had locked eyes with him and stared into his golden brown eyes, drinking in his beauty before stiffening his body and turning it into stone.

He didn't notice how his lanky long body had gotten up from the chair he had been sitting at for the past few hours and how he was now silently walking behind the doctor, following in her footsteps as she lead him to a room.

"The mother told me to inform you she didn't want to see your son and that she'd appreciate it if you stayed away for a little while" The nurse said while holding the door for him open.

His son

Tsukishima looked around the room, noticing how extremely empty and silent it was. The beds that were there were empty, waiting for a new patient to arrive. The blind were closed, but it let the slightest bit of light through cascading down onto to the little bin standing in the middle of it, surrounded by two other nurses that were busy with what was inside of it.

The two nurses looked up at him and smiled, one of them walking towards the exit of the room while the other reached out for the bundle of blankets inside of the little bed. She picked it up, stepping towards Tsukishima with a very kind small. One he didn't notice, for his eyes were only focused on the very small baby she held in her hands. "Meet your son" She said while holding the baby out for him, adjusting his hands just slightly so he'd make the baby feel comfortable.

He held out his hands, taking the bundle of blankets into his arms and immediately holding him close to his body. Tsukishima made sure to support his head, remembering all the things he read in a book his mother gifted him after having announced the news. He wouldn't dare to cause the baby any discomfort, it felt as if he was made out of the thinnest porcelain in the world.

"We'll give you a moment, we'll be next door if u need us" Tsukishima heard the older nurse say before the door shut behind her, leaving both him and his son alone in the room.

The baby slightly moved around in his blanket, one of his tiny arms poking through and stretching out towards Tsukishima's face before returning back into the comfort of his warm cocoon. A small yawn left the baby's mouth, a sight that made Tsukishima's eyes soften.

"Someone's pretty tired, huh? Nine months of sleep ain't enough for you, buddy?" He whispered, peering into the little eyes that were slowly opening up revealing a very familar pair of golden brown ones although his appeared to be just a bit more darker. It also didn't Tsukishima long before he noticed the dark blonde hairs poking out of his hat, ones that almost matched his own but just being a shade darker than his own.

He grinned and stroked the baby's cheek, taking in every detail of his face. "Aren't you just a sight for sore eyes, like i'm looking into a mirror." Tsukishima said with a short snicker.

In that very moment, Tsukishima felt his feet get lighter. The heavy chain on his feet he carried around for months that got heavier and heavier broke, just by the single stare the boy had on him. He didn't care anymore, about what he was gonna do in the future. He didn't care about if he'd still be able to finish college or if he was gonna be able to pull through.

Every thing he did, was gonna be for him. Every decision he made, was gonna be with him in the back of his mind. Every thing decent nice thing he did, he did hoping he could be somewhat proud of his old man.

And so, from 7 years from that moment, on Tsukishima was going to have a succesful career. One he had achieved after graduating from college, something he couldn't of have done without the motivation he had after his son was born and he was going to make sure his son was always first with whatever he did.

"Welcome to the world, Kaoru"