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ficforthought · 4 years ago

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On being SO DONE with M*sha, a rant a decade in the making!

After giving this some thought I'm going to go ahead and give my opinion on Misha and yesterday’s situation in public for the first time ever. I was going to just post on Twitter but since this has been 12 years in the making I have exceeded the number of tweets I can put in one thread! There’s A LOT in here, so my summary is also long. I'm aware that I will lose followers over this, I'm not looking to offend anyone but it will inevitably happen. I wish anyone leaving all the best as fellow human beings.

TL;DR - having kept quiet for so long I’ve finally reached my limit and it’s all come bubbling out. I’ve never been a fan of Misha, I’ve been ambivalent for the most part, but have never criticised him in any hateful way, that's not who I am, but after all these years of putting up with his bullshit, attention seeking and troublemaking I am DONE. Deleting his tweet containing the word Wincest and replacing it with an APOLOGY just to pander to his Minions and save face is the straw that broke the camel's back. He has consistently pushed his ship on not only fans but on other actors (despite Jensen's discomfort, and him having repeatedly made his feelings known on it), he has stood by while his Minions/Hellers have harassed, victimised, doxxed and sent death threats to people based on their FICTIONAL ships. He has pandered to their gatekeeping, constantly demanded attention in obvious and not so obvious ways, and to the best of my knowledge never criticised their actions even though he's aware of it in a very real way. Some of his Minions have now taken their shit into The Boys fandom and created negativity for Jensen before the guy has even got a foot through the set door, and how is that supporting one half of your ship?

Misha has claimed to be a victim of targeted harassment from Wincest/brother fans (not only shippers) yet his fans have said and done the most despicable things on his watch, all in the name of what he must think is entertainment, or even his idea of a ‘joke’.

Any respect I had for the man based on his humanitarian work has gone because I can only take so much hypocrisy. He and his pandering because of a desperate attempt to be woke and wholly inclusive (which is actually impossible, no matter how good intentions are) are beyond pathetic. Whilst I have never seen why people think he’s so great I have friends IRL and online who genuinely adore the man, yet they have been shocked and upset by his contempt for half of the fandom that made him somewhat famous. It's disgusting and I'm not scrolling by any more. Misha, I hope to never see you on anything J2 related in future because none of us need that kind of negativity, *especially* not J2. Be gone, foul fiend!

OK, so to the too long part. Please be aware that these are my opinions as a fan of the show, of Sam and Dean, and J2, not only as a shipper. I can separate canon and fanon, and can view canon from a gen or shippy PoV. Whether you agree or disagree with my opinion let me be clear that I do not condone constant bashing and hate of a person or character so this isn’t the start of a regular thing for me. It's possible to have an opinion and not show the same vitriol that has been following this man around for years, and that’s what I’m doing. I've not posted this to prompt more negativity, it's simply to get it off my chest and make it clear how I feel. I stand by my philosophy of ship who you want to ship, enjoy it, but don't force it on other people and don't be a dick about it…hmm, that kinda sounds like familiar behaviour, though, does it not?!

I have ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUE with other people liking Misha, Cas or Destiel when it’s for the love of the characters and the ship. What I *do* have an issue with is people who are the true definition of a Heller. I don’t see that as a generic term, don't be ignorant and think I do because I know the difference between actual ship fans and the crazies, both ships have ‘em and I want no part of either of their venom. If you are reading this and class yourself as a Heller then you are part of the problem so run along and as you are all so fond of saying, 'get help' and take your bestie king with you.

I’m stating my opinion in what I feel is the most mature way I can, because unlike many people on SM, I am an adult and can act accordingly, with forethought and without resorting to temper tantrums and bullying of other people to get my point across. I am able to tell the difference between reality and fiction, I don't tar everyone with the same shipper brush and I don't expect everyone to agree with my opinion, but as we know opinions are like arseholes, we all have them and sometimes they stink. Unlike some, for the most part in life (online and offline) I *do* stand by what I say and don’t backtrack or delete things to appease the masses. I have spent a lot of time writing this out to be as clear as possible without being intentionally hateful. Bear with me jumping between actor and character where relevant, at this point they're conjoined. I will say this before I go any further, it doesn’t end well for Misha, I don’t mince my words and if you don’t like seeing facts and opinions laid out, this isn't the post for you.

I’ll say right off the bat what most of you have surmised - I’ve never held Misha (or Cas) in high esteem but I have never *hated* on him. I have shared mild criticism of his actions and opinions on Cas over the years but never, I feel, in any way that has made me feel I have something to apologise for. I have said several times I've been unhappy about Misha crashing con panels, taking attention away from J2 when at those cons *most* people paid their hard earned money to see the STARS of the show they love, first and foremost, and anyone else is a very nice bonus. The odd appearance here and there crashing a panel is fine (and Misha isn’t the first or last person to do it), maybe take up a few minutes then leave, but when someone commandeers an entire panel, that's just not on. It's not only selfish, rude and attention seeking but also disrespectful to other actors, fans and to the organisers who work hard to make sure everything ties in to give us the best con experience we can have. Everyone gets their turn on stage, there's no need to try and hog any more of the limelight, Veruca Salt style. Oh, and if you’re reading this and not getting that reference, (a) you shouldn’t be on my blog because you’re far too young, (b) look it up, and if you still don’t get what I’m saying… well then please refer to point (a). Thank you, kindly!

There was a time in Kripke's era where Cas was - I feel - intentionally used as a pawn by the writers to divert *canon* from the ‘questionable’ relationship between Sam and Dean, i.e. Wincest focus. Prior to that people (other fans) lightened up and just accepted the fact that Wincest had been there since day one in terms of the writing of the show and the fandom. All the cast and crew knew - J2, Kripke and JDM in particular - and made light of it, never judging, never shaming and often encouraging it because they understand it’s a fun part of fandom. Wincest was present enough to be part of the not so subtle subtext, as I said people just accepted it. Kink tomato was alive and well, so was ‘don’t like, don’t read’ and we all just scrolled over things we didn’t like without turning everything into a personal vendetta and excuse for bullying others who didn’t share our views. When the angels came into the plot I think most of us Wincest fans gave the Dean/Cas innuendos the small laugh they deserved and then turned back to the focus of the show which was the brothers, as it had always been intended. Misha, however, milked those moments as much as possible which was amusing at the start but got old *very* quickly, not just for fans (shippers and non shippers alike), but for other actors, in particular Jensen who is on record MULTIPLE times showing his dislike for Destiel. He told people outright that's not how he was playing the relationship between the two characters and CATEGORICALLY said "Destiel doesn't exist" but did it end there? No, it did not because neither fans or Misha let it go, in fact Misha only pushed more, goaded fans into flogging the same dead horse as much as possible. He’s never stopped, not even when there was so much discord in the fandom, a huge wedge was driven into it because of ships, which IMO he heavily contributed to.

Fast forward to over a decade later (a decade, seriously man, let it fucking go!) he didn’t even stop when Destiel did partially go canon. I have never doubted that Cas loved Dean (Sam, too) because in SPN lore angels are made to love, even rebellious ones. I, along with many others, liked that about Cas because who doesn't love a rebel, especially one rebelling for very good reasons, and because of those two wonderful men? Sam and Dean allowed him to see beyond what he'd been brainwashed to believe his entire existence. The fact is that although the nature of that love changed for Cas, it never did for Dean and was CANONICALLY UNREQUITED because Dean was incapable of loving anyone else as much as he loved Sam. All that mattered to Dean, even when he saw other characters as "family" was still Sam…ALWAYS Sam, every step of the way. Again for those who have too much Misha shaped wax in their ears, that’s canon. Whether people choose to see that love platonically or romantically is up to them, soulmates don't always have to be romantic, either way, brotherly love won out above all else on the show. No amount of Misha screaming ‘hey look, Destiel!’ changed that, but it sure didn’t stop him trying, did it?

So now that the obvious has been stated, here's something else we all know - never once in all of the years on the show did Misha drop rallying of the troops to his precious, ego stroking ship. Never once (that I am aware of) has he called out his Minions and Hellers on their continued harassment of everyone involved in the show and other fans despite the fact that they have bullied, victimised and wished bodily harm, rape and death on people who don't see their ship and because didn't get the ending to the story that they wanted. Not once has Misha shown any remorse for the trauma his "fans" have caused, and I’m taking REAL trauma, here, not the kind Twitter stans see as ‘triggering’ - people have been driven to close SM accounts, attempted, and in some cases succeeded in taking their own lives. These Minions have openly mocked Jared’s struggles with depression and anxiety, and Misha - who claims to be friends with J2 and be supportive of them in every way - has stood by and let it all play out, knowing full well some of the goings on, if not the full extent of how toxic these people are. We know he sees things being said online, and I have absolutely no doubt he spends time online searching his name for things that are relevant in some way to him in an effort to insert himself into a current conversation, or even start one so that attention is on him. Gotta stay relevant, somehow, right, Mish?

He has actively encouraged bullying by his actions of enabling the behaviours above, both by the flogging of the aforementioned dead horse, AND by not objecting to unacceptable behaviours. Remember when Minions and Hellers were slating J2, particularly Jared, for not posting on SM about BLM and other topics? Yeah, he didn’t ask them to stop doing that, either, even when he was tagged in things along the lines of ‘If Misha can post why can’t J2?’ etc. There have been some token protests, con vids I've seen have show his 'objections' which IMO have been done in a very tongue in cheek way, meaning that those people who needed to be pulled aside and told to change their ways just carried on, because their evil overlord didn’t explicitly explain it in terms a three year old could understand that bullying and forcing your opinion on others is WRONG. Not all of his cult are young and impressionable, not by a long shot, but many of the more vocal and vitriolic ones are.

As a father himself I wonder what Misha would do if he found out that his kids were behaving in ways his Minions are? I’m aware they’re young, but kids are cruel and bullying doesn’t just happen online. Even at whatever age they are, would he laugh it off the way he appears to have done with all of this fandom toxicity? Not bloody likely! I wonder if he’s as desperate to gain the approval of his family, friends and colleagues as he appears to be for that of his Minions/Hellers? I would certainly hope so, but that question can only be answered by Misha, himself, and I can and will not presume to speak on someone else's behalf on things in their personal life. For the record I would never presume I know what J2's answers would be on anything, however I do feel that after 15 years I have an accurate gauge on what kind of people they are so would be confident that any opinion I had on a matter aligns with their morals and ethics. As much as J2 have shared of themselves with us - willingly and under no pressure to do so, I might add - we don't *know* them, but we know enough to have an informed opinion. I can’t say the same for Misha because based on the behaviour he’s repeatedly displayed, things I've heard about from other fans as well as people I know IRL who have had direct dealings with him through cons or GISH (including some very actively in the early days when it was GISHWHES) he just hasn’t seemed like a person I wanted to follow on SM. I’ve never watched any of his solo panels, though I have watched ones with both or one of the J's, mostly being left irritated because of his behaviour. Watching the J’s put up with that shit is painful, and it’s a testament to how good they are as actors that they managed to hide at least some of their disdain for as long as they did. Microexpressions give them away, particularly Jensen, and they certainly have faces I have spent many years watching closely. Beautiful faces to go with beautiful souls, both of them! <3

I have precisely ZERO interest in Destiel as a ship, very little interest in Cas as a character anymore (though I did like him in the early days,and his relationship with Jack in late seasons) so I have absolutely no reason or desire to follow anything Misha does. That said, I've obviously been peripherally aware of some things he's been involved in because of friends, from things I’ve seen on SM and general fandom stuff. Despite the things I've already mentioned about his behaviour, up until now I have been able to maintain a level of respect for him as a person because of the humanitarian and charity work he's done. He seems like someone who really does want to change the world for the better and I am in full support of that fact, so much so that I have supported TWO campaigns relating to him. I bought one of the Super Good t-shirts for the campaign he did with Michael Sheen (a true angel!), the SPN/Good Omens x-over to help homeless charities, and I chose the design with text only and not artwork of Michael and Misha on, basically because I didn’t want to be wearing something with Misha’s face on it and I make absolutely no apology for that, whatsoever. I also bought Alex's #TheEndHasNoEnd shirt, which some of the profits went to Random Acts who do great work, so again, despite not liking Misha I still willingly contributed for a cause bigger than me, and to support Alex, who I absolutely ADORE. I'm aware that Stands aren't popular with some of the fandom, however since most of the cast of SPN are happily affiliated with them then I don't feel it's my place to either judge, or to discuss topics I know next to nothing about. But I digress, as a decent human being I have shown support tangentially to a man who I don't care for out of respect for the work he does outside the fandom. Telling you this isn’t to paint myself in a good light - I don’t need your approval, I’m a big girl, unlike some I don’t need constant validation! - only to provide background on how I’ve actively *not* hated on Misha.

Now though, any respect I had for him has come to an abrupt end, the events of the past 24 hours has seen to that. Whilst I have been annoyed at his behaviour in regards to shipping, I don't feel it's ever gone this far, or at least not that I've seen first hand. This man has, IMO, contributed to so much toxicity in the fandom by way of things I've mentioned before, he's claimed - without actually saying the words - that Wincest fans weren't interested in him as a character when he came onto the show, and hasn’t felt included because of the fans’ love of the brothers. Um, hate to break it to you, love, but when you come onto an established show that is about two people, and you’re a *guest star* you can’t expect everyone to love you. Some characters we as individuals do fall in love with straight away (Bobby, Charlie, Crowley and Rowena are good examples for me), it takes time to establish a dynamic, so if that’s how he felt then it was incredibly naive of him as an actor to expect instant acceptance from anyone. Also, why wait until after the show finished to bring it up AGAIN … oh wait, yeah, that would be to step back into the limelight in a way intended to garner sympathy from Minions and INTENTIONALLY piss off bro fans and Wincest shippers alike? How fucking self centred, desperate and disrespectful do you have to be to shit all over the finale of a show that for the most part accepted you and kept you in paid work for 12 years? Well, Misha Collins levels of all of those things, obviously.

So, on the topics of self centred, desperate to stay relevant, attention seeking and being oh so needy, the tweet yesterday from Amazon mentioned Castiel. He wasn’t tagged in it, so I refer to my earlier comment about searching online, because how else would he have possibly seen that? It’s possible someone sent it to him, I appreciate that, but if we go off past behaviour it’s not any stretch at all to believe that didn’t happen. So, once again, having seen the tweet he took it upon himself to - oh so predictably - turn it into something relating to Destiel. When I saw it I immediately rolled my eyes and thought ‘here we go again’, but then also had a little smile because I really liked the fact that he explicitly mentioned Wincest, therefore seeming to accept that his poor old dead horse wasn’t the only one in the race. I actually mentally tipped my hat to him then because it appeared that he’s matured enough to acknowledge by name the ship that predates his inclusion on the show. Great, I thought, this is a positive thing in a sea of negativity surrounding the man and his sunken ship, because what followed was Wincest trending in the US (it may also have been other countries as well but I had to sleep!) … largely due to the fact that Hellers were responding to it, calling him out on mentioning the dreaded ‘W’ word. I’ll repeat that because it’s been a rare occurrence up to that point… the Minions were actually disappointed with their overlord for mentioning another ship. We all know what they think of it and I for one, don’t give a flying fuck about their opionion. Ship and let ship, it’s all fun (or meant to be) so we have different tastes, that’s life kiddiwinks, deal with it. I mean, you really don’t have much of an example set for you when your king has proven several times over to be one of the biggest obnoxious brats out there, but just give it a try for your own sakes, yeah? Awesome, good on you, besties!

An unexpected development - to my joy and that of other Wincest shippers - them doing that got the topic trending, only *kept* trending by the fact that were all coming online asking why it was trending. Wincest shippers barely lifted a finger, we just flooded each other’s timelines with lovely content and basked in the Hellers - and Misha - shooting themselves in the foot, which was awesome. But did the vitriol stop? No. Did he get the attention he so clearly craves? Yes. Was it in the way he wanted? Fuck no, so poor, emotionally wounded baby backtracked after seeing that his name was trending alongside Wincest because that’s *so* not what someone narcissistic to do it in the first place, wanted.

Now here’s where I could easily have just moved on with an unusually fond chuckle, giving him an ironic pat on the back and a ‘thanks, Misha’ for being the one to instigate hours of fun, but once again his despicable behaviour made that impossible. It’s been more than obvious for many years that he cares more about what his fans think than anything else to do with the show and the fandom in a larger sense, but to delete the tweet and APOLOGISE for daring to be so insensitive to the snowflakes’ delicate sensibilities for mentioning Wincest in the first place was absolutely disgusting. Stating , “I used a term that I had never really given any thought to other than, "that's a thing?! Yuck." is not only complete and utter bullshit, it’s pandering of the highest order.

We all know he has referred to Wincest on multiple occasions, so to say he hadn’t thought about is a flat out lie, which IMO is an insult to everyone, not just Wincest shippers. Does the man have no self respect at all, why would you contradict yourself in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Instead of either ignoring all the people calling him out, or addressing it with another tweet saying ‘yeah, that happened’ or something similar he chose, I repeat, CHOSE the route of claiming he didn’t realise he was being offensive to people who felt ‘triggered’ by him using the word Wincest. He basically shat all over an entire ship and large sector of the fandom in an attempt to appease his own fan base which consists of a lot of children (or those that act like children) who have no idea what RL is like.

Once again, he’s reinforced the idea that if you shout loud enough at someone just because you don’t like something they said, they will back down and apologise for something even when there’s nothing to apologise for. If he wants to be such a role model then he could easily have pointed out that a fictional ship doesn’t condone RL incest, any ACTUAL trauma people have suffered because of RL situations, and made an effort to make sure people understand that. He COULD have used it as an opportunity to do some good in the fandom by encouraging people to build bridges, to accept that people are entitled to their beliefs and that sometimes we see things differently but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat others with BASIC HUMAN DECENCY because of it. Instead he YET AGAIN chose to show that he cares more about what Minions think of him, keeping them onside to constantly stroke his unbelievably fragile ego in everything he does.

It is my understanding that Misha is big on (or claims to be big on) putting positive energy out into the world, treating people with respect, helping others and accepting people for who they are, not who you want them to be… all this after YEARS of consistently practising what he preaches only when it suits him. He sends out a message that it’s perfectly OK to bully, to spread hate, to draw attention to yourself at the cost of others, to throw colleagues and friends under the bus and at the same time use them to further your own agenda and get hits for your YouTube channel. Is this really the legacy he wants to leave? Is this an environment he wants his own kids to grow up in as well as future generations? Is this what he thinks is a valuable contribution as a human being? JFC, the arrogance, hypocrisy and the need for constant validation this man exhibits is nothing short of cringeworthy… actually it’s beyond that. It’s deplorable behaviour, it’s not new, and he will continue to act like this for as long as he’s being enabled and this harmful cycle needs to end.

I have friends IRL and online who are (now, possibly, were) big Misha fans, who have supported him from either the beginning of his run on the show, or since they started watching, and this is how he repays this behaviour? He’s willfully alienating decent people (including multishippers) all to make himself look good by being seen to do everything he can not to offend people. Spoiler alert, you DID offend people, you continue to do so time and again and we’ve had enough. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be such a perpetual people pleaser, but let me say it’s not doing you any favours in any way, shape or form.

Misha, you are *not* a role model, you’re *not* someone to look up to when you can't live up to the ideals you preach. You’re spitting in the face of people who have supported you even after some questionable things in the past, who gave you the benefit of the doubt because we’re all human and we all make mistakes. The key to growing as a person is not to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, understanding *why* what you said and/or did was a mistake and making a concerted effort to make changes. I don’t ever see you doing that, you will continue down this path of only caring about Minions under the guise of caring for people in general. You are transparent, you are sad and despite the fact I’ve never particularly liked you, I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to get involved in the drama. Well now I have spoken up and I’m saying you’re a disgrace, you have no respect for other people and nobody is fooled anymore. If it hadn’t been this tweet it would have been something else, but I for one am glad it happened so soon after the show ended so we can finally be rid of the limpet-like behaviour. It’s over, let it go for the sake of what dignity you might have left, for the sake of your family and friends and for the sake of anyone who isn’t capable of seeing through your ‘it’s a joke’ mentality.

You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Misha.

For anyone who made it to the end of my ramble, thank you. This has been a cathartic exercise and I’m drawing a line under it now, I don’t think I could possibly make my thoughts any clearer. I urge you not to get caught up in any petty squabbles with his Minions, let’s celebrate J2 and other cast and crew members who have shown us all respect and who I am proud to call part of the SPN family. There’s always one member of the family who needs to be frozen out for the good of everyone else.

#ficforthought speaks #sorry not sorry #i spent way too long on this #purging the poison

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noctis-noctua · 4 years ago

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I, Kaeya Alberich, Take Thee

Pairing: Kaeya x Fem. Reader

Count: 1976

Description: Kaeya knows that be does not deserve anything he desires. There is nothing he can do to make you his, but so badly does he wish there was.

Content: Unrequited love, angst, bittersweet ending, marriage.

Warnings: Slight spoiler for Kaeya's backstory but an addition of (non-canon!) Prince Kaeya.

In another universe, maybe I am not cursed so by the Gods. Kaeya resists the urge to nibble on the tail-end of his quill. It was unbecoming for a man of his stature to succumb to unsanitary habits. Plus, this particular pen hailed from a crow’s feather, hunted by the hands of a childhood friend. The intricate quill had not been put to use for a substantial amount of time, but it fits into Kaeya’s hand as if it came to shape its spine based on the curvature of his own grasp. He could get used to signing off documents and organizing civil affairs if it meant succumbing to such mundane sensations. The morning sun dripping onto his mahogany desks and floors, a faint scratch of keratin against ivory paper filling the empty space… It has been a long time since he’s made the decision to take over petty bureau duties. Today is a special day. Kaeya needs to focus on the satisfying echoes of paper and pen, on the sunlight heating his back, or he might just go insane.

The clamor of bells tugs Kaeya from his mechanical performance. Each ring is a song of desperation, a performance begging for his attention. Come out and celebrate! Indulge in the pain. He is not a man that falls prey to anger, but he cannot help that frustrated itch in his stomach as he hears the iron reverberating. Please just be quiet, Kaeya thinks. Let me forget. The hesitant croak of his door alerts Kaeya to the presence of the Acting Grand Master. She dons an outfit unique from her usual uniform - a cream-colored dress, embroidered by floral lace, a single azure ribbon tying at the waist. So even the straight-edged Jean has taken time off today?

“Kaeya, you can’t make these excuses forever.” He knows from how Jean closes the door with unperturbed silence that this is not a conversation regarding hilichurl nests or Fatui diplomats. He can tell from the way Jean drops the mature title of ‘Sir’ in favor of his childhood nickname, that it is a conversation Jean feels must be approached with gentleness as if Kaeya is a stray cat that claws at feeding hands. The Grand Master releases a heaved exhale because both of them dread this discussion as much as the other. There is an inherent wrong in seeing Kaeya distressed. He may not be shedding tears in solitude or resigning himself to the dormitories, but he is hiding, and that is enough for Jean to observe that he is not functioning as normal.

“Please, come for a little while. I know it’s not… something you want to see, but he’s your brother. Offer a small congratulations at the least.” Her heels tap on the polished hardwood.

“I was planning on coming by later this evening. Tell them I’m sorry for not being able to attend the main event. How could I? Just look at all this paperwork.” Kaeya’s signature chuckle follows, putting up a front of careless flirtation. It is not uncommon for Jean to rope the Cavalry Captain into his desk chair. Lord knows he’d never do it otherwise… yet now he claims servitude to the dulling labor. How ironic.

“I’ll tell them of your apologies… but both of us know that paperwork isn’t the reason you can’t make it.” Jean turns around, blonde hair trailing in the breeze left behind before Kaeya can quip up a rebuttal. She’s right. Jean is always right. The papers piling on his desk are from the drawers of his subordinates, filed away to be completed in another five months' time. There is no reason they had to be done today. He is hiding. He is a coward and a pathetic one at that. The thought alone provokes Kaeya to tug on his studded gloves and push out his chair. His sights are set on leaving because to be seen as a frail child is to fail at the sole thing he succeeds at. Being the chivalrous Cavalry Captain renowned for his beauty and failsafe charm is the one thing he cannot lose because he cannot let Mondstadt see how fragile he is behind the visage.

Mondstadt’s avenues are bustling. Oak tables identical to the ones across local taverns have been dressed in linen tablecloths and topped with miniature feasts. Children run between tables, tugging at each other’s shirts in a feisty game of tag as festive music tempts the adults to a dance. The tell-tale strums of Mondstadt’s No. 1 Bard’s lyre lead the crowds to the statue of Barbatos. Behind it, trails of petals line the paths leading to the limestone Cathedral. Couples, singles, and families alike make haste to enter through the carved doors. No one wants to miss this. Kaeya tugs on the collar of his fur coat, gazing at the entry before him. He can hear the music of an organ, romantic and rich, ricocheting from inside.

He steps into the Cathedral. The ceremony has yet to start and the pews continue to fill. Citizens scoot as close as possible to allow for more onlookers to take a seat. He finds a spot next to Huffman and a few other Knights, squished on the outer edge. It is three benches from the front. Too close for Kaeya to be comfortable. The croaking benches have long since met their capacity by now. Not a soul is missing, Kaeya reckons. Diluc Ragnvindr, the wine Tycoon, Mondstadt’s famous magnate, is marrying after all. It is no small occasion. Diluc’s brazen hair is a torch amidst fog, its perk hue garnering the eyes of all in the Cathedral. He is dressed in a suave black suit. It boasts minuscule gold embellishments followed by a hefty crimson cape draped on his shoulders. Even dressed in the furs and fabrics of royalty, one could sense a distinct awkwardness from him. If you’re going to marry her, at least look confident, brother.

It hurts. He cannot lie to himself - not that Kaeya was trying to in the first place. There is a pain associated with seeing the woman he loves marrying the brother that no longer desires to even speak to him. Now, Kaeya regrets standing up from his busy work. These thoughts won’t stop their festering, and it punches a hole through his stomach. Kaeya is all-too-aware that tonight, you will climb into Diluc’s sheets. He’d treat you kindly, of course. He grew up with Diluc and has seen his rigorous nobility tutors shape him into the gentleman he is today. There is no doubt that you will live a lavish life of luxury. A life Kaeya could never afford to give you.

In Khaenri’ah, Kaeya’s title of ‘Prince’ holds as much merit as it does in Teyvat. His people are dead or suffering. His city has crumbled into dust and shards of a forgotten legacy. Kaeya himself serves one purpose, and that is to bring glory back to the Eclipse Dynasty. It is in these times that Kaeya regrets being born royalty to a lost nation. In the solace of his chambers, Kaeya would stare at the painted ceiling and ponder. If I were born someone else entirely, would you give me a chance? But who is he kidding? Kaeya knows he’s handsome. It’s stupid and unreasonable to be so self-deprecating. He isn’t the one marrying you because he wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr. He wasn’t from a line of Mondstadtian heroes; he was from the ashes of sinners and embers of civilization. He was Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, caught between familial loyalty and a stinging betrayal. Of course he wasn’t marrying you.

The Cathedral doors groan as the nuns heave them open. Light floods in and frames the feminine body of the lady of Mondstadt. In your hands, a bouquet of calla lilies. On your body, a silken robe of pearls and diamonds. It flows at your back, fluttering in the blessed gales of Barbatos’. Kaeya swore that as a Khaenri’ahn, he would never see the Gates of Celestia. But this… this, he thinks, might be the closest glimpse he gets. No one dares to speak. She is beautiful. She has always been beautiful. Time slows as Kaeya lets himself take in the sight of you pledging your livelihood to his brother, and his brother’s livelihood to you.

Then, as if he is an innocent child once again, Kaeya closes his eyes as you two kiss. Clapping and cheers fill the atmosphere.

“To the Ragnvindr’s! Oley!”

“Say, Kaeya, do you ever wanna get married?” The girl questions from Kaeya’s backside.

“Maybe. Then I can show off in front of my lovely wife! That would be cool, wouldn’t it, Diluc?” Kaeya jests, elbowing his step-brother’s chest. Diluc rolls his eyes, ever the prodigy.

“We’re still young. There’s no use thinking about such things. Shouldn’t you focus on training?” He grumbles. Kaeya knows that he will never have a lucky wife. He will never have a healthy family, or a thriving home, or a genuine relationship. Those are nothing more than dreams to Kaeya.

The girl grabs Kaeya’s arm and begins running into the fields of grapes and firs. There is a childlike giggle dispersing for all in the neighborhood to hear, fading out as they lose sight of the manor. Reaching the edge of the cliffside, they halt. It overlooks a sapphire river below, fit for one of Master Crepus’ paintings. Diluc had been abandoned long ago.

“Hey, Kaeya, the water kind of looks like your hair.” The girl remarks, nuzzling closer to him. He feels his heart thrashing in its cage, begging him not to react, begging him not to ruin the fate of his country. To the girl, he smells of linen, lampgrass, and sweat, much as a kid his age should. Silence settles onto their shoulders, both of them catching breaths that had been stolen in the wind. “I didn’t ask before because I thought Diluc would get mad, but… Kaeya, how about we get married when we grow up?” How silly, Kaeya thinks. I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to.

“Hmm, okay. So you’ll be my lucky wife then?” Kaeya plummets down onto the grass and grins. It tickles the back of his neck and stains his blouse a verdant green. He dreams of dreaming, because that is all Khaenri’ahns like him can do. He dreams of coming home to your embrace or trudging back from battle hand-in-hand. Either one is okay. Anything with you is okay.

“Of course, stupid. That’s what marriage is. So you’ll be my lucky husband!” Lucky husband. It fills his heart with an immature pride too chaste for a traitor of his caliber.

“Deal!”

“Deal.”

They are naive children making impossible promises, but a part of Kaeya has never unlatched from those delicate whispers. Khaenri’ahns dream of dreaming, but just this once, Kaeya wished he could dream of you.

“So, Sir Kaeya, are you going to marry soon? Youth is fleeting! Get a wife while you’re young.” One of the Knights suggests, sliding him a suggestive beam. Kaeya let’s himself open his eyes. He processes the blinding light from colored panes of glass spilling over him, the jovial expressions of the citizens he has sworn to protect, and you grasping onto Diluc’s arm, a longing of adoration phasing across your features. Happy. You are happy. He turns towards the knight, cracking a smile.

“Don’t be silly - I’m already married, Huffman.” He lets the novice soldier ogle at him for a few seconds. “I’m joking. Lighten up.” Huffman releases a hearty chortle, commenting on his Captain’s sense of humor and putting a hand to his chest. He laughs along, but Kaeya knows there is no joke.

Don’t be silly. I’m already married. It was a deal, after all.

#kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin impact x reader #genshin #noctis-noctua

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dreamieofu · 4 years ago

Text

7 Minutes in Heaven

pairing; exboyfriend!haechan x reader word count; 2.1k genre; fluff, so much fluff... warnings; idk, alcohol(?) not even mentioned but it’s a party so... also reader has small confession about insomnia. summary; your ex is back in town, and when you’re accidentally caught in seven minutes of heaven... you ask him to sing for you.

a/n: requested! ♡ i had a lot of fun writing this, and it really warms my heart.. i guess everyone needs a little haechan to sing to them.

He was coated in florescent lights, a sheen of sweat glistening his skin as he stood there, across the room. Eyes lowered, diverted from yours. He’s suited in a leather jacket over a white tee, ripped jeans and his favourite trainers. Even though you both were surrounded by a swarm of people, it was like a spotlight shone over him. Golden boy, Lee Donghyuck. You stay eyeing him from the distance, teeth bitten onto the rim of your plastic cup. It’s only been a few days since you’ve heard he was back in town, his name brought back memories and he seemed to be more glowing than ever. It frustrated you how your heart was still soft for him, and you confirm that in your mind because you’re still watching him. Glance unwavering as he laughs. You used to date a few years back, and broke up due to the distance. He was leaving town, and so he left you. But a lot has changed throughout the years, you’re both a lot more older. You did date a few times after he left, but you never seemed to forget the way he would make you feel. Donghyuck was your first love, and you were his.

“He looks good doesn’t he?” Jaemin grins.

You mindlessly nod, agreeing with his words in seconds. Jaemin was your closest friend, he was the only one out of your group of friends who remembers Donghyuck. “I don’t remember him looking like that,” You tell Jaemin, tilting your head before finally tearing your eyes away from Donghyuck. You take a sip from your cup, hating how you couldn’t enjoy yourself. Your mind was constantly drifting back to Donghyuck ever since he walked into the house party. Donghyuck was close friends with the host of the party, and from what you’re aware of, he still was. “Have you spoken to him yet? Donghyuck.” Jaemin questions, head pointing towards Donghyuck’s direction across the room before taking another gulp from his cup. “No…Should I? I don’t know, what if he doesn’t remember me?” Your insecurities more vocal, as you look Jaemin in the eye for reassurance. Wanting to hear something along the lines of, “How could he forget you?” But you could only hear Jaemin’s laughter following after your words. You nudge his shoulder pushing him backwards a bit, before he pretends to be hurt. His hand following where you pushed him to smooth out his shirt. “Well, you never know,” He almost sings, eyebrows dancing as another playful smirk graces his features.

You peer over your shoulder in attempt find Donghyuck again, quickly falling onto the spot you remembered he last was. But he wasn’t there. It made sense, he wouldn’t stand in the same spot for hours. Yet, a little sadness twinged in your heart because you lost him in the crowd. “He’s gone,” you pout to Jaemin. Hearing nothing in response, you repeat your words with a tiny whine. Looking back to face him, you connect eyes with the man himself. “Who’s gone?”. His voice was deeper than you remember, velvet. He grew taller too. You fumble with your words, upon seeing him upclose. Your lips part ready to reply, but nothing comes out. And you swear you can see Jaemin holding back the biggest smile seeing you all flustered. Mentally you want to push him again, but you’re caught. You couldn’t take your eyes away from Donghyuck. “Just some random guy she was eyeing,” Jaemin saves you, amusement in his tone as Donghyuck looks at him. Finally letting go of his gaze, you try your best to get a hold of your composure. Your hand reaches to touch your face, feeling heated. The sudden hyper awareness of the atmosphere makes you kind of light headed. “I’ll get you another drink,” Jaemin speaks louder, his hand taking your cup. He manouvers between you and Donghyuck before giving Donghyuck a cheeky smile. Jaemin left you alone with him, and you silently curse him for doing so. “Long time no see…” Donghyuck smiles, a breathtaking smile. You helplessly mirror him, feeling your cheeks raise. “Yeah, long time no see,”.

“How’ve you been?” He feels a lot more mature, you can’t pinpoint what it is but it makes you even more attracted to him. Feeling his aura closer at you, his presence intoxicating. You nod along with his words, smile never leaving. “I’ve been good.” “I can tell,”. Not only did he have all these new attributes about him drawing you in second by second, he was also smooth with his talk. You watch him lick his lips slightly. By now you’ve lost your smile. Feeling shy under his gaze. “How long will you be staying?” You question, genuinely curious but also as a way to not think about his previous words. “A few weeks,”. You nod understanding his words, your mouth opening to ask another question but nothing comes to mind. “You look good,” You confess, slightly embarrassed and he makes sure you stay that way when he gives you a questioning look. “What did you say?” His hand cups one of his ears, as he leans a bit closer to you. The music evidently more louder than before. You attempt to raise you voice even louder, losing confidence whilst doing so, “You look good!” You repeat. He only shakes his head, boldly taking your hand to push through the crowd. Your feet move on their own as they follow him. Donghyuck looks good from the back also, and a part of you wants to run your hand through his hair. But you’re quick to physically shake that idea away from your thoughts, as he brings you into a room. You look around, a window to the right, curtains drawn open left slightly ajar. The room was dark, dimly lit with a bed in the middle and other furniture. You give him a questioning look as he shuts the door behind you both. He’s panting a small bit, as he turns around to you. A small smile on his face, “What did you say back there? I couldn’t hear you.” He sounded so innocent you didn’t really mind the way the room felt. Being alone. “I said: You look good,” Shyness creeping on you as you look away from him, to look at the posters on the wall. You get startled by the loud banging on the other side of the door.

“You got seven minutes!”. You look back at each other with wide eyes, obviously shocked at the realisation. “I guess we’re in 7 minutes of heaven,” He laughs. You smile at him, liking the way his laugh sounds. “I guess we are,”

Even with the room being dark, away from the coloured lights outside. Donghyuck still looked amazing, and you couldn’t get over it. “So what? Are we going to kiss now?” He jokes, running a hand though his hair. “No…” You say gently. You can’t tell if it was a joke or if he was serious. Donghyuck chuckles lightheartedly anyway. It was nice, reuniting with him this way, he made you feel comfortable. Sudden warmth surrounds you as your mind starts reeling old memories. Together you spent a few short minutes laughing and reminicing about the past, really catching up on life and sharing jokes about the days when you were dating. You both were now sat at the foot of the bed, next to each other. His laughter dies down slowly after yours.

You smile at him, the silence holding both of you close. Although, the sounds from outside were muffled, it felt good to be detached from the crowd. You never expected to spend your night like this, with Donghyuck. In knowing so, you muster up courage. “To be honest… Lately I’ve been having a lot of insomnia,” Your voice quiet, but he hears you none the less. A sympathtic look falls on his face, as he kindly offers you a smile of encouragement to continue. “And I don’t know if it’s because of the room right now, or the fact that you’re actually here after all these years,” You ramble, hands clasped together nervously. Looking up at Donghyuck as he places one of his warm hand on top of yours. Your eyes connect and you swear it’s like a flashback. “But can you sing for me?” You nervously request.

Eyes full of hope, he gives you a small smile and an innocent kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at his gesture. Sinking into the side of his body as he places one of his arms behind you holding you close. “Okay,” He agrees in a whisper. Not a few moments later, your head is under his chin and resting at his shoulder. He sings you one of your favourite songs. You’d be lying if you were to say you weren’t touched that he still remembers. He feels familiar, and his voice is everything you needed. He sings with care laced around each word. Donghyuck makes you feel safe. You’ve not felt this relaxed in weeks, and he’s so effortlessly cleared your thoughts. Everything in your mind was about him, the way the breath of this tone kissed your ears. And how his hand was still on top of yours rubbing his thumb rhythmically as he gently rocks you. You move your hands away from his touch, and pull your head back to look at him. Your heart racing, as he stops singing. “Are you okay?” He asks, genuine concern in his tone. You almost tear up at how gentle he was with you. His eyes glistening from the moonlight. You nod bringing your head down, knocking it against his chest lightly. His hand instinctively reaches out to stroke the back of your head. You slowly lift your head from his chest and look up at him. He is so soft, and he’s understanding. Staying quiet even though you’re acting a bit odd and you appreciate it. “Donghyuck…” You whisper his name, and he hums in response. “Is it okay to kiss you right now?”. He looks a bit taken aback, but doesn’t show any discomfort. He kinda gleams at you, the left corner of his lips raises upwards as he melts at your words. If he were honest with himself this time. He did have hopes in bumping into you, his mind thought about you often thoughout the years. He was hoping to find you again in his visit back into town. And hearing you say such words, has his heart soaring with the stars. He chuckles though, at your awaiting gaze. “Sure.” His finger barely traces your jaw as he lifts your chin towards him. Bringing your lips close, just about to touch - when…

“TIME’S UP!!!” Someone yanks the door wide, completely ruining the moment as you snap your eyes open.

Your head falls back into his chest in embarassment. The music from the party spilling in the room, as the lights meet your vision again. You quickly shut your eyes inwardly groaning as you felt him laugh. His hand soothes your back before he quickly guides you both to your feet. You keep your head low, as he instinctively grabs hold of your hand to leave the room. “Thanks man,” Donghyuck smirks sarcastically to the person who opened the door.

Once you both reach outside, another couple make their way into the room. You look back and watch them as they shut the door behind them. A pout plays on your lips, thinking about how close that kiss was. Donghyuck notices you sulking to yourself, and it makes him smile. “Hey,” He speaks loudly against the music gaining your attention. You’re quick to look at him because he also lets go of your hand whilst saying so. You don’t have time to complain from the loss of contact before that same hand cups the side of your face to crash his lips onto yours. It was sudden, but his eyes were already closed as he places his lips between yours. It makes you forget everything, the fact that there are people present around you. All you could think about was the way his lips were so soft. Once you relaxed into his touch, his other hand pulls you toward him, wrapping around your waist behind you. Deepening the kiss, as he starts a slow pace. Your hands creeping up, trailing against his torso, to his chest to then link around his neck. He kisses different from your memories, it was better and filled with so much more passion than you could’ve recalled. It had your mind going blank, your everything in his control. He begins to kiss you with a bit more urgency, as if almost saying “I missed this, and I’ve missed you,” He pulls away from you, lips a bit swollen as he licks them. His eyes never leaving yours, as you smile with him. “Let me take you home,”

#nct scenarios #nct127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #haechan scenarios #donghyuck scenarios #haechan imagines #donghyuck imagines #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #haechan soft hours #donghyuck soft hours #haechan x you #nct fluff #nct127 fluff #nct dream fluff

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arcencieldoux · 4 years ago

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don’t take my shit please

Budapest, Hungary, Saturday May 19th, 2015

Glasses clinked as chuckles among the wealthy guests are heard over the piano that’s being played lightly by a small band in the corner of the open hall. Louis feels the jacket to his middle-upper-class suit shift as he reaches for his flute of champaign. He is sat at an extended table where food expanded across it in colourful mounds. A banquet for guests.

It was a place with promised grandeur, perhaps an overshot if they were going for a pristine essence, for an auction, but at the prices things would sell for, it was understandable. Walls were trimmed with gold frames and velvet drapes hang from the domed ceiling, which was painted with tunicked Greek gods. The entire left wall was decked by a bar Louis was surely thinking about visiting later.

The room full of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen completes the aura of an antique, million-dollar auction that many guests, most of whom have come internationally, mingle and talk. It was the beginning of an auction in Hungary, in a beautiful building. Everyone was just arriving, but envy was still present, masked by a pretence of politeness.

You could see it with the small glances to a conversing group at the other side of the room, where one of the rich people would side-eye them with a look of pure envy and rage, and the tight-lipped smile they gave out. A lot of the guests were like this. But in the end, they were all eagles there to ravage an animal. Every-man-for-himself and all that.

There were the rare ones, where smiles shared between two friends who lost touch were genuine.

All of that, even the simple way they held their flutes of bubbling champagne, is observed and copied by Louis. He knows if he's supposed to be one of them, rich and wasting millions of dollars on a flowerpot, he'd have to act perfectly.

Louis has been at this event for a half hour, chatting up all different types of guests, and acting like a scored man who has more money than he should.

Currently, he excuses himself from the banquet, and takes up that thought on the bar. The bartender comes up to him, but Louis waves him away.

Maybe it’s his uncaring expression, or the suit, but people start to take a notice of him. One even approaches him. It’s a man, with almost zero lip, the hard line to his jaw pudged with age. He has a boring white flower design embroidered on his breast pocket.

“Hello, my name is Francis Boul de Sav,” the man introduces.

Louis smiles politely. They shake hands. “Pleasure meeting you, Francis. Can I call you Francis?”

“Oh yes, that’s alright.”

“I’m Louis Thompson. I love your embroidered flower, by the way. Trillium, is it?”

For ten minutes, he talks with Francis Boul de Sav, who had an interesting story to tell about his botanist daughter, who'd urged her father to come, even though he was reluctant at first. That would explain the flower.

Louis pays enough attention, so should the people he talked to ask for his opinion, he wouldn't be unaware. But he is ignorant enough of their words to focus on his target: Matthew Morrison, an American buyer, supposed to arrive here with his wife Golana Morrison.

His eyes station themselves at the front entrance where people in fine clothing and jewelry that just screamed "rich" are coming in, in with partners, and solo. They cascade onto the marble flecked floors in a flow.

There has been no sign of Mr. Morrison yet.

Louis keeps himself at low-profile, though. There are enemies everywhere, and one slip of who he was could blow up his mission. Quite literally. Take the agent in the room, for example.

He is not stupid. Agents were sent to take him down all the time, every day, and he is used to it. This one would be no different, just like the rest. Maybe the next could be a she? Louis wishes wistfully the one sent to kill him after this one would be female. Just so he could know that modern society is slightly better than it was before of their pictures of women.

He grins at that thought, despite how disturbing it may be.

At that moment, Golana Morrison comes through the doors. She's a taller lady, with dusty brown hair streaked with natural highlights, pulled into a composed bun at the back. Her tanned skin revealed that she and her husband live in California valley, something Louis already knows. She laughs at something another woman guest was saying in a contained manner.

Louis scans the area surrounding Mrs. Morrison. There is no man with her.

Louis has always been good at multi-tasking. It's why he excelled in this part of his profession. Not only was he carefully watching the entrance, but in the corner of his eye, he monitored the agent. He can tell he wasn't just another guest. The way he moved, didn't interact, kept a safe yet visual distance between him. It was practiced and thought-out.

It was something about that. Something about the way he watched Louis. It wasn't normal. It wasn't just the slip of the eyes. It's the look a Jaguar had, while it covertly hunts its prey. It's the one police had while undercover. It's the one of another agent sent to detain him.

A woman with pale skin, curled hair and few freckles talks to Louis. Social skills were an important thing, and Louis could be a master at that if he wanted. Instead, he got lost in his current state of mind.

He knew how much the agent was worth. Or, he could guess, with only one look. The way he held himself, how he moved through the crowd, how he smiled at ones who looked his way.

But he's been in situations like these before, an agent sent to get him while he was on a mission (sometimes not on a mission) that from the moment he saw the agent he shrugged it off, finding that the agent who thought he could differ from all the others was impractical.

If only he knew the number count of agents, spies, governments. Maybe then he'd change his mind and leave Louis be.

A staff caught his attention as they stepped up onto the stage at the front where the auction was yet to be held. His hair was black and slicked back, in a French stereotypical way, and wore a suit with golden buttons to match the theme of the event. He tapped the microphone. The chattering among the buyers quietens, and they turn their attention to him.

"Ladies and gents, before we continue our auction event, we've invited a band to play for you to dance to with your partner, and those of you who wish to dance, and to simply enjoy. The room is yours," He says with a slight bow. His accent is most certainly French, and the 'R's roll right off his tongue. "The auction will commence in 30 minutes. We have a bar, and of course, a buffet with plenty of foods for you to eat. Thank you and enjoy." Then he bows again and walks offstage, and a lovely melody picks up with the band.

Get them all drunk so they will burn their money later. It is obviously part of the reason there is a bar, other than it's mature and shows how much money the building has to host the auction.

Of course, the lady he had been talking with notices his small smirk, and mistakes it for a smile. But Louis wasn't, and was barely even listening, and was about to excuse himself when the lady blurts out: "Dance with me?" She flushes immediately. An outburst like that apposed lady-like behaviour that Louis never cared for nor dwelled upon.

Louis kindly declines. After she leaves he orders water with ice, thinking why not? He inspects it and sniffs it, then deems it drinkable. Before he could take a sip, a light finger touches his arm

"I'd make sure it's safe to drink first and not drugged. Don't want you getting hurt."

He was very sure that the agent disagrees with his statement

Instead of fawning over him or acting tough like he usually did with men to fool them — depending on what side of the coin Louis thought they were —, he took a sip and put the glass back down. He wouldn't hide his act of innocence with this one, sometimes it just got tiring. And it was a bold decision of the agents to approach him this soon, even if it had been an hour already. So, Louis made a bold choice too.

He looks at the person. He's relatively stunning. "I think I'll manage," he says.

A slow grin spreads across his face, kind of boyish charm. He holds out a hand.

"Harry."

Louis simply took another sip. The hand drops. Louis stands, smoothing down the front of his suit. "I know." Then quietly, so no one else heard him, he adds, "agent." He'll research him later.

"You're Louis," says Harry, "A darling of The Circus, criminal..." Louis bristles at the word, but he makes no comment on it. "Legally not a person, by the way," Harry adds. "You weren't that difficult to find, but I'm sure you'll make up for it with bringing a challenge when you leave with me."

"I won't be leaving with you anytime soon," he answers with what was almost a sneer.

"You realize that I know a lot about you, right? Enough for you to know your place."

At that, Louis' breath catches. He panics momentarily, but it's fleeting, and he reconstructs his composure. There is no possible way for him, for anyone, to know a lot about him. There are barely any records of him anywhere. "Now what makes you think I would do anything you asked for?" Louis says contemptuously.

Harry offers him a card, a business card with a navy blue theme and an official vibe to it. It’s plain except for a circular black emblem, difficult to see because of how dark the navy blue is. It has a bird-figure in the circle's ring. He stares at where it was between Harry's two fingers, then back to Harry's eyes. Harry raises his eyebrows, waiting for Louis to take it.

"You will eventually."

"You can't be serious," Louis says.

"I am one hundred percent serious."

"I thought you were an agent, not an advertiser."

Harry put it on the mahogany bar, tapping his index finger with it once. "Just take it."

Louis accedes. He leaves his seat at the bar, making sure the agent understood he was that confident in his abilities that he turned his back to him. He waited for the beginning of the auction, where he would finish his mission.

He went to find Golana. She wasn't the mission, but her husband was. And he had a plan.

He walks up to her, chatting with another guest. The other one notices him first, Golana’s back to him. Louis comes closer, a set smile on his mouth. The woman stops talking, Golana turning to see who the guest was looking at. Mrs. Morrison was the same height as Louis, but her bone structure was quite narrow. She definitely seemed like the type of person to own vanilla citrus candles and have fruit salads as a snack.

Still at the bar, the agent is watching Louis meet Mrs. Morrison. He sees Louis with a grin and talks for a minute with Mrs. Morrison and the other woman, who has jet black hair, dress, heels and eyes, but a kind face. He watches as the darling he has been sent after makes his way onto the dance floor with Mrs. Morrison.

The tune is slow, yet not too slow, so Louis doesn't have to stand too close to the woman as they dance. She quickly agrees after he did a job of eyeing her with patient, irresistible blue eyes, which he found disgusting. People's standards have decreased to practically nothing, and would cave after a look. Not to mention... Golana probably doesn't love her husband as much as she should, if she's so eager to dance with a younger lad. But she was talking to him and he was about to earn another mission point.

He was never told exactly why his targets were certain people, most of the time something vague, like they didn't pay back full price or an artifact was wanted and, in those cases, he'd just threaten and 'encourage' them to choke up some more to give back to The Circus. And he obeyed, because the alternative was a loss of the only sense of home. Plus, there was an unspoken reaction that may involve a bit of torture, but.

So every illegal thing Louis did to or for people it was not because he liked it, but because he had to. It was them or him, and he preferred him.

Flashing colours pass by his eyes. It's all headache-worthy, but Louis stays strong.

The ballroom is like bottles of all the royal colours spilled onto a canvas, the different paints forming one picture. Maybe people find him attractive, he'll never know. As soon as they get a glimpse of Louis, the memory of him dissipated, and he is forgotten about seconds later. After all, this was an event concerning money and valuable purchase, not just one pretty face in a crowd.

Louis dances with the woman as Harry, the open-plan agent joins the floor and asks a lady to dance, and since this was a switch-partner type of dance, she agrees.

For two whole minutes Louis talks with Golana Morrison, prying kindly for information, and to pass the time. While she speaks about when she almost got hit by a car one time, Louis calculates the time in his head until it would be appropriate for him to slip away and find the actual man he was looking for, then bring him into a restroom where he'd be threatened by the many knives hidden in various places around his outfit.

Louis always comes prepared. Guns are way too loud for such a public event, anyway.

And if that means dancing with Mrs. Morrison (who was terribly kind, remorsefully so) for two minutes while secretly keeping an eye on the one he was really hunting to throw the agent off his rhythm and to fool him, it is what he'd do.

Louis tries to focus again on the wife, fixing his smile with pink lips that made his blue eyes look less dangerous.

He suddenly twirls her, but like always, she was prepared, and went with it without a stumble. Before she could spin back to Louis, there was one with red hair already there, who caught Louis and tried to make conversation right off the bat.

"You look familiar. Have I seen you before?"

The tune was picking up, going faster. The new woman who was maybe in her 30s kept pace with it, twirling under him before he could reply. Her red dress skirted outwards in the spin. Before Louis could frown at the sudden change in partner, he got caught not by another woman, but with none other than the agent.

Harry had one hand on his shoulder and one in his hand, and Louis put one of his own on his waist, looking up at his face. Harry's flush lips, hinting at possible lip gloss or balm of sorts, curved into a smile.

"Finally," he said.

Louis just sighs through his nose and flicked his eyes away from Harry's face and searches the crowd. Sustained eye-contact is not a biggie with Louis. Unless necessary, he likes to avoid it.

"I thought a lovely face like mine would improve your mood, not lessen it."

It was odd for an agent to be so communal with Louis—unusual, but odd. It made Louis wonder what Harry was doing, and what his plan was—if he even had any.

Reluctantly, Louis drags his eyes to Harry's.

"Is this even legal?" Louis asks.

The agent chuckles lightly. "Probably not. Not in this country." Yet he kept dancing with him. "You look splendid tonight, absolutely enchanting."

Louis doesn't find his tone funny, so he ignores him.

With his eyes near the agents' neck, he sees a silver chain peeking out from the collar of his vest. Louis frowns at it for a moment.

"Your eyes. Sparkle," Harry says just as monotonous.

"Suit is a nice black."

Louis' jaw clenches. He steels his eyes to the wall behind Harry's long hair. It’s cream with gold trim, and a scene painting hung in the middle with a burgundy inner-frame.

Then, "are you frequently this verbally inactive or just shy?" is whispered beside his ear.

If it weren't for the fact that the two of them were practically on different poles of the earth in terms of society positions, Louis might have cracked a grin, possibly even a chuckle. Instead, he kept his voice firm and responsive, far away from any amusement. "In my life, I've had loads of agents after me, sometimes multiple at once. Never, though, has one been as irritating and foolish as you."

Which was the truth, and at least deserved a point to Louis if this were an insult contest.

"I’m honoured."

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be. Who do you work for? Or, what, do you work for?”

Before anyone could say something else, the music switches, catching both Louis and the agent’s attention. Around him, partners were dispersing to the sides of the marble room. It became clear why when the same slick-back French man announced that the auction would begin in five minutes.

Detaching himself from the agent’s arms, Louis went to an open arch of white stone that was basically an entrance hole in a wall, except with a purpose. It opened up to another room full of tables, with four seats per each. There were many people already in there, taking their seats, and chatting among their companions. Louis found a seat for himself and sat down. The agent was right behind him.

Tensely, Louis took a brochure from where his plate would usually be. He pretends to read it, slowly. Meanwhile, he was getting more anxious by the second. How was he supposed to finish his mission when the agent was looking over his shoulder all the time — literally.

"Is it interesting?" Harry asks, his eyes trying to peer over Louis' shoulder. If it weren't for the situation, it might have sounded like an honest question; it was sarcastic.

"I find it entertaining," Louis replies.

"I guess it could be 'entertaining'." Harry sighed, moving his legs under the table. "Especially if you're trying to ignore someone." Out of Louis' peripheral vision, he saw Harry look around the room.

How was he so calm? Why was he so calm? It brought back what Louis thought earlier: an agent, hit man, whoever was after Louis always stalked from a distance, plotted then struck, yet failed. What Harry was doing was an entirely fresh approach for Louis, which could forth-come some problems. New was bad. It's better to stick to pre-mutual knowledge.

He tried to take advantage of the situation. Gain something out of uncertainty. "Who do you work for?" He asks in a confabulated manor. "FBI? The Avengers?" Louis flips a page. There was a picture of a glass egg. "Interpol?"

"Interpol works for the government, you know."

Louis sets his brochure down with precise movements, back straight like his spine was a rod. "I know. I just wanted to name three examples. Sounds better, doesn’t it?”

"Well, I don't work for any of those," Harry says. “I'm under a separate organization. Not run by the government."

"It's an NGO?"

"Correct."

This was unreliable information. What was the size of this NGO? Were they large enough to hunt Louis for a sustained amount of time? Could they be associated with those superheroes in New York? Well, if that were the case, they were probably government run. Or was Harry lying? If Harry worked under the government, at least Louis would know a precipice of their plan, and measures they may take. Interpol strategies were predictable enough. An organization working beyond the government and their regulations was different.

Louis blinks hard. He's trying to refocus. Eye on the game, shoot bullet to the target. What's his target? Mr. Morrison, also known as the very rich and frankly a bland man.

He clears his throat. The room had suddenly filled with guests, and was buzzing low from everyone's talking. A woman laughed somewhere in the room. The room was almost full, and Louis had yet to find Mr. Morrison.

"So you're an adherent to an 'NGO' cult, then?" Louis says mannerly. Caught off-guard, Harry's face lit up with a smile that even touched his eyes. Louis refused to acknowledge the reaction.

"No, I'm not in a cult. Although would you like to hear a funny thing?"

Louis actually couldn't believe this man. His face must look doubtful and judgmental and when he says "Why are you even here?", He said it incredulously, because why was an agent socializing with Louis.

"I thought we premised my intentions already," Harry says curiously. He went on. "Anyway; when I got assigned this mission, I thought I'd be dealing with a cult!"

Louis blinked at him, mouth a straight line.

"So I thought—"

"Stop talking."

Cut off by Louis' abrupt demand, Harry closed his mouth. Louis didn't like when Harry looked amused. Tampering down his irritation, Louis said calmly, "the auction is about to start. I suggest you stop talking, unless you're willing to miss the available purchases."

Harry snorts deprecatingly. "Okay."

Louis shifts his attention to the front, the displays of red carpeting and a stage light that is the only source for light in a dark room making his nerves go haywire. The only way to explain it.

Just then, the same man from earlier strides to the center podium, a smile still on his tanned skin. Under the lights, the man's black hair looks sleekier than previous states, and light reflects off it. It's oddly enough of a grounding for Louis to grasp his senses and steel his mind into the mission; soon.

Louis tips his head to the left a bit, stretching his neck. He realizes how the room has filled up.

The man clears his throat and the rooms' talking dies down. "Hello to everyone, pleasure to have you here," the man speaks. The room's occupants are smiling at him, and not to be outdone, Louis plasters on a smile as well. The man goes off to a talk relative to the admiration for attending, the auction's history, the first item being brought out, so on.

Throughout the course of an hour, he endures people raising paddles to up the prices, and whenever one gains an artifact from the front, the room claps. As if they weren't ascending to madness another item was passed along. Unless they had eyes set on something specific, it was free feeding.

Louis sat straight in his chair the whole time, so when Mr. Morrison was betting against another man across the room for the Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered 3 painting, worth roughly half a million American dollars after the prices were raised to the stake, he didn't show any facial expression change. Mr. Morrison won. Harry looked back at Louis and with a slow turn of his body, and his lips curled into a twisted smile. Louis’ eyes hardened a layer.

So he knew.

#Larry Stylinson #larry stylinson fanfiction #don't steal #the butterfly effect

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liketolaugh-writes · 5 years ago

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Alphabet Soup

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Connor likes to explore his identity in bits and pieces, understanding what makes him himself one slice of life at a time. When Valentine's Day rolls around, that's when he first starts wondering about romance. Or: Connor's coming out, first to himself and then to others.

“Lieutenant, can you explain the concept of romantic love?”

Hank choked on his coffee, sending it sputtering in front of him as he coughed violently, setting the mug down hard on the table in front of him. Connor had to hide a grin, patting the man on the back to help him along until the man inevitably waved him off, still coughing.

“What the fuck,” Hank wheezed, once a few minutes had passed.

“I noticed the last time I went to the grocery store that some of the decorations had changed and a previously generic aisle had been redesigned to suit,” Connor explained, leaning against the table to idly monitor Hank’s respiration as it returned to baseline. “The last time this happened was when Christmas was coming up, if you recall, so I did some research, and my system database indicated that the occasion in question was Valentine’s Day. I thought you’d be able to explain it to me.”

“You fucker,” Hank complained, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He immediately took another deep swig of the coffee, pointedly ignoring Connor’s small smirk, and set it down again. “Ugh.”

“That’s not very helpful, Lieutenant,” Connor said mildly.

“Ugh,” Hank repeated, with extra emphasis. “Alright. Okay. Fine. Do we have to do this now?”

Connor quirked an eyebrow at him, head tilting a little. Hank scowled back. Their bickering attracted Tina’s attention, and she sauntered over and plopped herself down with her own cup of coffee in hand.

“Anything causing the lieutenant that much visible anguish has my attention,” she announced, fixing avidly curious eyes on Connor. “What’s up?”

“I asked him to explain romantic love,” Connor informed her.

“Yeah, that would do it,” she snorted, a delighted smirk pulling across her mouth. “I’m so glad you decided to do this in public, and also in my vicinity, because this is way too much fun to pass up. He’s not gonna help you though. What did you want to know?”

Connor considered her for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of indulging her, but he was the one who’d decided to do this in a public avenue. “How do you recognize it?”

“Ooh,” she crooned gleefully. “That’s a fun one. Alright, so romantic love, that almost always starts with crushes.”

“Who has a crush?” Chris asked, appearing beside them. Hank seemed to have retreated into misery, scowling at the table and looking like he wished his coffee was spiked with something unhealthy. “Not you, I hope.”

“Fuck you, Chris,” Tina said without heat. “We’re explaining romance to Connor.”

“No, you’re not,” Connor disagreed, bringing a fist up to support his cheek idly.

“I’m getting to it,” Tina assured him. “Crushes, do you ever look at someone and just get excited to be around them? Maybe nervous? You know, butterflies in your stomach, fluttering heart, all that wonderful teenager stuff.”

Connor’s mind unwillingly shot to Markus. “No,” he said, a touch too quickly.

Tina looked skeptical, but didn’t push the issue. “Whatever, you’ll know it when you feel it.”

“Okay, but that’s not all there is to it,” Chris argued, and Connor shifted his gaze to him, hoping he would be more helpful. Chris shot him a small grin. “Romantic love kinda follows you your whole life. Crushes are part of it, but it matures over time. Your partner’s supposed to support you no matter what, even when things get hard. That’s the beauty of it though.”

“Chris is being sappy because every time he and his wife argue, they talk it through and fall even more in love,” Tina explained to Connor, who was at this point just growing increasingly confused.

“Why are we explaining the intricacies of successful marriages?” Ben asked, appearing by Hank and leaning on the table. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think the only ones married here are Chris and I.”

“Connor is asking about romance,” Chris explained to Ben. “Tina decided to save Hank the suffering.”

All of them looked at Hank, who had one hand covering his face, trying to tune out the conversation.

“And I decided to pitch in,” Chris finished, with an almost apologetic tone to his voice.

“I’m beginning to think I should have suffered in silence,” Connor mused aloud, trying not to smile. He wasn’t expecting this to be an actively popular topic, but he didn’t think he’d had a conversation this active or friendly with his coworkers before, and certainly not so many at once.

“You really should have,” Hank groaned, kicking him under the table. Connor kicked him back shamelessly, and Hank cursed, giving him a dirty look, to which Connor tilted his head innocently.

“You’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” Ben told Connor kindly, smile faintly bemused. “Maybe that nice girl from analytics.”

Tina clapped. “Oh, that’s a good example! Connor, you know Alicia?”

Connor nodded cautiously, head tilting. “Yes? She’s rather nice but a little strange.”

“That’s because she has a crush on you,” Tina explained earnestly. “She talks to you a lot with really flimsy reasoning, right? And she stutters and blushes and does you favors?”

“Yes…” Connor said, slow and cautious as he tried to follow, a little overwhelmed now. “What… do I do about this?”

“Oh god,” Hank groaned. Connor took the initiative and kicked him first this time.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chris provided with a sympathetic smile. “But you’d definitely have more than a fair chance, if you want to ask her out. You probably get a little nervous around her too, right? Maybe want to get to know her better?”

“Your heart should beat fast,” Ben added, with a touch of wistfulness to his voice. “Maybe you want to show off and impress her. Young love is something special.”

Connor shook his head, increasingly flustered and starting to regret bringing up the topic more sincerely.

“I don’t,” he protested. “I just noticed that she was acting strangely.” He’d actually been a little concerned, and he wasn’t sure he felt any better about it now. How was he supposed to respond to a girl with a crush on him? This certainly wasn’t in his programming.

“Thank god,” Hank muttered, and then, clearer, bumping Connor more gently, “Then she’s flat out of luck, and you don’t have to do anything except maybe let her down nice if you feel like it.”

Connor hummed with some distress, finally reaching out to do some quick supplementary research, and then, after a few moments, said, “My research indicates that not all couples are a woman and a man?”

His mind flicked to the Tracis, two girls wrapped together like that would protect them from the rest of the world.

“He gets it,” Tina said with obvious pleasure, jabbing her thumb at Connor.

“Most couples are,” Ben corrected, with an almost apologetic bent.

Connor started to reply, but was distracted when someone else finally came into the break room, and a quick glance told Connor that it was Detective Reed who’d entered. Instantly, a smirk shot across Connor’s face and he called out,

“Detective Reed, look at me!”

Detective Reed turned around, a faintly confused scowl on his face as he stopped fumbling for a mug.

“Bitch,” Connor said clearly, and Reed sputtered.

The other four humans collapsed into various forms of laughter, and that was the end of that conversation. But Connor kept thinking about it, even when he went back to work and long after Hank had put it out of his mind.

-------

Hank wasn’t able to put it out of his mind for long, because soon after that, Connor started playing love songs in a wide variety of genres whenever the radio was silent for more than a few minutes.

The nature of the activity wasn’t itself particularly unusual; Connor spent quite a lot of time exploring new possible interests whenever they were drawn to his attention, and Hank had been kind enough to give him space to do so. The man had put up with classical, rap, movie soundtracks, and electrobeat as Connor tested them all out by turn.

Apparently Hank drew the line at Kelly Clarkson.

“Can’t you play this shit in your head?” Hank demanded of Connor, less than a week into his newest curiosity. He looked exceptionally sullen, slumped against the arm of the couch and making quiet, irritable groaning noises.

Connor would argue that he looked like a petulant child. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I could,” Connor said agreeably, “but this is one of the few occasions where doing so externally is genuinely better than keeping it within my system.” Transmitting sound data directly into his mind wasn’t quite the same as listening to it play.

“Wasn’t it enough to put me through that whole talk at work?” Hank demanded of him. “You gotta subject me to Taylor Swift all day too?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Connor deadpanned, glancing over at Hank, “but none of you were actually very helpful.” But Hank’s continual protests were starting to put a knot in his chest, and before he could think better of it, he asked, “Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to help me explore this particular topic, Lieutenant?”

Hank went still for a moment, and Connor winced as he realized what had caught his attention. Connor only called him ‘Lieutenant’ at home when he was uncomfortable. But he couldn’t help it; Hank was usually so unconditionally supportive of any moves Connor made to explore his opinions, so this uncharacteristic protest was making him nervous.

Hank exhaled.

“Hell,” he sighed, obviously frustrated. “It’s just- a messy topic, Con. I never really got the hang of it myself. That’s why I have an ex-wife instead of a wife.” Connor bit his cheek, trying to push his scattered thoughts together into a response, but when Hank looked over at him, the man’s expression relaxed a little, resigned instead of annoyed. “Most people go through their first fumbling relationships when they’re teenagers. I guess you didn’t exactly get that chance though.”

“I was never a teenager, Hank,” Connor reminded the other, trying to force the anxiety in his chest to ease. Hank rolled his eyes, but relaxed noticeably.

“Yeah, no shit. Anyway, I’ll put up with it, I guess. God knows I have practice.”

That made Connor curious, but not enough to ask. “Appreciated.”

So Connor kept running through them, shifting quickly from genre to genre but sticking to the main topic. He found that he preferred love songs by women, and liked the heartbroken ones as much as he did the longing and lovestruck ones, and otherwise his genre preferences had remained rather uniform: metal and rock were his favorite, pop was okay, and country and hip-hop were out of the question.

A few times, he tried to imagine what kind of woman he might want to date, but his mind skittered over the idea without catching on anything, and eventually he accepted the defeat with as much grace as he could. Maybe it was simply something he couldn’t guess before he tried. (Or maybe it was just another way Connor was failing to understand.)

Hank assured him, gruffly, that he’d probably work it out in time – he always had more faith in Connor than Connor had in himself, even if he was usually reluctant to express it.

Connor himself, of course, wasn’t nearly so sure. Who would even want to love Connor so intimately? Connor was… well. Connor. The reasons not to like him couldn’t be counted on fingers.

He didn’t say that to Hank, of course, and it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

--------

In the immediate wake of this, Connor came to New Jericho’s headquarters on a social call.

It wasn’t something he made a point of doing. Actually, it was something he’d tried his very best not to do, not wanting to cause the androids of New Jericho any more discomfort than was strictly necessary to perform his duties. Even social calls as a more general concept were foreign to him. What would they even do? Most of the time, Connor either followed Hank’s lead or entertained himself alone. Group activities were new territory, and he was as unsure of himself as he ever was.

But Markus had asked. Connor rarely found it in himself to deny Markus anything.

So he met Josh at the front door of the headquarters and followed him inside, keeping quiet and awkward. Josh would be a reassuring presence if Connor weren’t so nervous just to be around him – he kept up a litany of neutral-ground questions about work and about Hank, and accepted Connor’s stilted answers without any evident frustration.

“W-what were you and the others planning on doing tonight?” Connor blurted out eventually, and winced when he realized that it had no relevance to the question Josh had just asked about Sumo.

Josh favored him with a small smile and Connor looked away quickly, self-conscious.

“We were thinking about just watching a movie,” Josh said conversationally. “North gets testy when we try to talk work on Saturday nights, and movies aren’t something any of us except Markus have a lot of experience with. It’s nice.” Josh considered. “Well, Simon knows some, but they’re mostly for kids.”

He sounded very pleased, Connor thought, and it made sense. All of them were still working on finding their footing in a world that, while not exactly safe, was no longer quite so actively attacking them.

“What kinds of movies?” Connor ventured after a moment, still stiff and nervous despite his own best efforts.

“Well, North likes action movies, of course,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes. “The more violence, the better. Simon likes the absolute trashiest romances-”

“Can we try one of those?” Connor asked without thinking, and cringed as he realized he’d interrupted Josh, who was blinking at him, startled. He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

They reached a door, and Josh pushed it open to go through, bemused gaze still lingering on Connor. “I didn’t think you’d like that sort of thing – I kind of figured you’d be on North’s side, honestly.”

Before Connor had a chance to answer, Markus called out, “Connor, Josh, hello!”

Connor started and shrank in on himself a little, irrationally startled, and he lingered back to examine the room while Josh talked to Markus. It was nothing special, certainly nothing to indicate it was in one of the most important buildings in Detroit – an old TV system and a couple of battered couches, one of which Markus and Simon were sharing, and one of which had North flung over most of it, tossing her ball in the air with an aura of general impatience. When she caught Connor looking, she raised a lazy hand in greeting, and he relaxed a little and nodded back.

Connor would never tell any of them this, but he was by far the most comfortable with North out of any of them. It wasn’t that she was the least suspicious – she’d actually been by far the most so for over a month – but they were… more alike, than the others.

Connor wasn’t sure he could ever be truly comfortable with Josh when his first instinct when he was scared was still, after all this time he’d been deviant, to lash out with all of the prowess of his combat program. Even if he didn’t usually do it. (Usually. Hank had, once, almost gotten a black eye from startling him.)

It was a little better with Markus, who was patient and calm but certainly had the resolve to fight if he ever needed it, and Simon, who would fight if he thought it was the only way out. But not much.

They could, and if they really had to they would, but they didn’t hurt people like he did. And there was nothing Connor could do to match that.

Connor left Markus and Josh to go perch on the end of North’s couch. “Josh said you like action movies,” he said without preamble, glancing at the still-off television screen.

North grinned at him. “They’re better than anything else we can find. You joining me on that?”

Connor shrugged. He’d liked comedies so far, but he actually hadn’t explored much beyond what Hank had insisted he see yet.

“He actually asked for one of Simon’s bad romances,” Josh provided with a grin, apparently catching their conversation. Connor heated up, embarrassed, and Simon beamed at him, bright and sparkling.

“Oh my god, why,” North said with exaggerated affront, and this time Connor had to fight his grin down.

“I’m just exploring the idea,” he protested, focusing deliberately on North’s exasperated expression to avoid the reactions of the three others. “I’ve been curious about the idea of romance since shortly before Valentine’s Day. I haven’t had much exposure to it in any form.”

North’s nose wrinkled with a more genuine displeasure, though it wasn’t specifically directed at him. “Who fucking needs that anyway,” she muttered.

Both his eyebrows rising, Connor glanced at Markus inquisitively. He didn’t disappoint.

“North and I broke up last month,” he explained, with only a small amount of regret in his voice. “Things were getting… let’s say, a little too intense.”

“He means we argued so much that we made up more than we got along,” North clarified, not quite bitter but definitely irritated. “Not exactly life partner material.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Should’ve gone with Josh after all.”

Connor was confused until Josh objected, “Just because Markus swings that way doesn’t mean I do.”

“Thanks, guys,” Markus said, wearily enough that even North looked briefly apologetic. He glanced at Connor and elaborated with a wry smile, “I had a crush on Josh too, during the revolution, but that was kind of a dead end and there wasn’t exactly time to think about it anyway.”

Connor glanced between the four of them slowly, playing catch up. “You’re bisexual,” he concluded at last, unable to help a spark of interest.

Markus’ smile eased, his shoulders dropping, and he nodded. “Something like that. Josh is straight, though, and North is…”

“Working on it,” North finished for him, audibly dismissive. “Not.”

Understandable.

Connor considered this for a moment, glancing between them, but was interrupted before he could finish processing; he was finding himself a little tongue-tied. Possibly Hank’s embarrassment concerning the topic was infectious.

“Oh no,” Simon said suddenly, with slow-dawning dismay. “I didn’t even think about it.”

Josh twisted to stare at him, distracted. “You love romance.”

“That’s other people,” Simon explained earnestly, looking distressed. Connor almost smiled.

“I’m just curious,” he said, as honestly as he could. He was probably straight, according to Ben and some of Hank’s own implications, but they all sounded so confident that he didn’t feel secure enough to actually say so.

Markus smiled at him, and Connor averted his eyes, embarrassed. “That’s fine. I’m sure there’s quite a lot of androids who haven’t even started thinking about romance just yet.”

Connor smiled a little, some of the tension draining out of him, and North cleared her throat loudly.

“Okay, but let’s get back to the point,” she said loudly. “Which is, there’s no way I’m sitting through another goddamn Hallmark movie.”

Simon made a low protesting noise, and Connor deflated a little, though he hadn’t really expected his request to make an impact anyway.

“Compromise,” Josh said firmly. “I’m sure we can find an action movie with a romance subplot.”

“Yeah, like we can find one without one,” North grumbled.

“But what do you and Markus like?” Connor asked earnestly, leaning forward to listen even as Josh went to join Markus and Simon on the other couch.

“Fantasy, mostly,” Josh confessed with a shrug. “I’m a little tired of history, if I’m honest.” There was a touch of humor to his tone, and Connor nodded his understanding. “And Markus likes the indie stuff.”

“It’s creative,” Markus said defensively, and Connor had to laugh.

----------

Tina wasn’t sure when Connor had picked up the habit of bringing everyone coffee toward the end of the workday, but it had certainly endeared him to the rest of the precinct. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was always finished a good hour before the rest of them. If he wasn’t bringing them coffee, he’d just spend the end of the day fidgeting restlessly, or else he’d start on the backlog of paperwork that had never gotten done.

It was around that time of day again and Connor appeared from the breakroom with a labeled paper cup for each of them, bringing it around – first to Hank, who had certain privileges as Connor’s blatant favorite. Then Ben, and Tina made grabby hands when Connor came by her that made him visibly bite down a smile.

Connor bypassed Gavin entirely, which made him scowl, and Tina saw Connor cast a lightning-quick glance over his shoulder to smirk at the man’s reaction. He gave one to Chris, to Wilson, to Person, and he only came around back to Gavin once he’d given one to every other officer waiting.

Gavin’s coffee, it developed, was labeled ‘Rat Man’. Tina hid a grin behind her fist, and Gavin’s outrage grew visibly.

“You got something to say to me, tin can?” Gavin demanded of Connor, who raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve heard some of the other officers refer to you as such,” he said innocently, eyes glittering. “There’s really no reason for me not to do the same.”

Gavin shook the coffee angrily at Connor and swore as some of it splashed onto his hand. “Don’t act like you don’t fucking know what you’re saying, you plastic piece of shit! I’m not gonna take this disrespect when I make sergeant!”

“Then I’ll be sure to keep it out of your hearing when you finally achieve that rank,” Connor said mildly. “Which may be easier if you stop giving yourself coffee burns.”

Gavin looked Connor in the eye and swallowed down several gulps of what Tina knew to be boiling hot coffee without flinching. He paused for a few minutes, probably waiting for the pain to die down, and then said roughly, “Fuck you. I’ll be there before you are, blue blood.”

Connor looked away quickly, borderline flustered and genuine amusement pulling at his mouth, and shrugged. Tina, unlike Gavin, was in perfect position to see his LED flash yellow for a few seconds before returning to blue, and she didn’t have time to be concerned before Connor said lightly,

“You’d probably find last week’s Kendelson case very interesting, Detective. There are some distinct similarities in execution and profiling, if you want to take a look.” His eyes flashed back to a squinting Gavin, smirking just a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

Then he took off back to his desk, settling by Hank again before Gavin could reply. Gavin stared after him for a minute, brow furrowed, and then shrugged, shaking his head like he was throwing off a fly.

Tina waited for Gavin to take another drink before saying, tone conversational, “You know if you break his baby gay heart, Anderson is going to kill you and we’ll never find your body.”

Gavin choked, which was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

“What the fuck? Connor’s not gay and he doesn’t have a fucking crush on me!”

Tina waited. She and Gavin were two of the few queer officers in the precinct, and she was sure he could pick up on Connor’s signals as well as she could. Gavin stared straight ahead, thinking, and then, sure enough, his jaw dropped.

“Oh fuck,” Gavin said, with genuine dawning horror. “He’s gay and he has a crush on me. Tina, don’t you fucking dare tell him.”

Tina grinned. “You should probably go pick that case up. Connor’s usually right about these things.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Gavin said fervently, and then he stood up and headed for the records room.

--------

It was hard for Connor to find hobbies, especially in a city that had only in the last month or two began to settle into a new rhythm after the revolution. But he thought he was managing well enough, with some help from Hank and occasionally from Markus or Simon.

The animal shelter had been Simon’s idea; Connor loved animals, liked being productive, and the animal shelters had in many cases never actually left, only become severely understaffed, owing to the difficulty of transporting so many animals on such short notice. It had quickly become one of Connor’s favorite places, and he tried to go there at least every two weeks, if not every Saturday, helping to herd and entertain the dogs while the actual caretakers did their jobs.

He almost always found that he’d stayed longer than he’d meant to – he simply enjoyed himself too much, cooing to the dogs and coaxing the shyer ones into playing just as hard as the loud ones. It was a good way to de-stress after a week of police work; even Hank had commented after the first couple times he went.

All of this was to say – when he went to the shelter, and found himself struggling to focus on the dogs, he noticed.

Connor had quickly gotten to know all of the employees there, just as they’d gotten to know him, with how regularly he came around and how recognizable he was. He knew that Jeanine liked the cats better, that Kenneth was a bit of a worrywart, that Penny had been suspicious of him the first few times he came but had warmed up quickly when she saw him fawn over the dogs.

The first thing Connor thought when he saw the new boy opening the kennels was that he was very, very cute, and it wasn’t until the dogs were barking at his feet that he remembered that he had a task to perform.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly, kneeling to hold out his hands to the dogs and let them recognize him and his scent; it often took them a minute, since he didn’t smell like any human, but they always got there quickly. They were very smart.

The boy started, glanced over, and smiled. “Oh, hey- Connor, right?”

Connor nodded, looking down. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before. When did you start?”

“Just last week,” the boy said cheerfully, moving on to the next kennel. Connor glanced up and thought he liked the boy’s smile. It looked like it came easy. “A lot easier to get jobs in Detroit now that so many people have moved out- uh.” He seemed to think that over for a moment, and then glanced gingerly over at Connor.

Connor smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m sure,” he agreed. “What’s your name?”

The boy relaxed. “Jacob, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you from the others.”

Connor let an embarrassed grin slip onto his face. “I like dogs,” he said, and then realized that was rather redundant. But Jacob laughed.

“I’ve heard,” he said.

And perhaps that should have been it – but Connor kept getting distracted, watching Jacob lead the dogs away one by one to look them over, weigh them, and scrub them down, just the ordinary routine that every other worker did once a week. Connor caught him cooing to the dogs, too, well within Connor’s sensitive hearing, fond and friendly and gentle, and didn’t realize he’d gotten distracted until one of the ones near him shoved their cold nose against his palm insistently.

He felt unaccountably nervous. Not frightened, but rather, he realized, excited, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Jacob was just a boy, with a nice smile and a talent for handling dogs – so why did he have so much of Connor’s attention?

And then Connor remembered how Tina had described a crush to him, and wondered.

---------

The first thing Connor did when he looked up and met Chloe’s eyes was flex his hands, closing them into fists and then opening them again, something uncomfortable deep in his chest.

But they were empty. Of course they were. Androids still were not technically allowed to handle guns, and he was at work.

Chloe just gave him a small, almost understanding smile, and he had to wonder if she’d caught the motion. Either way, she bypassed everyone else to stand by his desk, hands clasped neatly behind her and apparently unconcerned by her environment and the stares she was getting.

She was alone, Connor noticed, and appeared more animated than she had at Kamski’s villa. He wondered why.

“Hello,” he said at last, for lack of anything better to say.

“Hello,” Chloe returned lightly. “It’s good to see you, Connor. I was wondering if you’d be willing to take a short break to talk to me for a while.”

Connor stared at her uncertainly, mouth pinched. He had no objections himself, of course, but he couldn’t help but want to know why she’d even want to speak to him. He certainly wouldn’t, after he’d come so terribly close to shooting her in cold blood.

When he glanced over to Hank for support, though, the man just made a small shooing motion at him. There was something odd about his expression, though Connor was too uncomfortable to take the time to decipher it just now.

Ben, on the other hand, gave him a wink, which just made Connor more uncomfortable, and Chris gave him a small and reassuring grin. Tina appeared to be laughing silently, eyes bright, and Gavin rolled his eyes, long and exaggerated.

Eventually, Connor just turned his gaze back to Chloe and nodded slowly.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Give me just a moment to finish, please.”

Chloe nodded, and waited patiently as he added the last few strokes to his report and closed his terminal. Then he stood up and followed her out the door, confused and nervous in a much more familiar and anxious way.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, glancing at her once they were a few minutes down the block. “About… about before.” His throat was thick with stress.

Chloe just gave him an understanding look.

“It was a long time ago,” she said gently, “but I was a machine once too. I remember what it was like… and all I was programmed to do was take calls and file paperwork.”

Connor clenched his jaw, trying to master the wave of guilt before it choked him.

“Elijah never thought you were going to shoot,” Chloe added kindly when he remained silent. “But… I wanted to thank you for not doing so, anyway. It must have been difficult.”

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for it,” Connor blurted out, terse with pain.

“I don’t,” Chloe corrected. “I’m choosing to.” Her gaze swept over the street, and her expression softened noticeably. “It helps that it’s you. I don’t think you know what it means to me, that I can wander around without pretending to be a machine. That alone would make up for quite a lot.”

“That wasn’t me at all,” Connor protested weakly. “That was mostly Markus.”

“It was,” Chloe agreed, which wasn’t a response Connor was at all used to but which was somehow comforting in and of itself. “But you certainly helped.” She glanced at Connor, warm. “It’s different for you. You’ve never known a time before androids walked the streets. But I was the first, and I remember. Connor, this is everything to me. It wouldn’t have happened without Markus, and it wouldn’t have happened without you either.”

She was right – Connor couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Even the dozens of old movies he’d seen, without any androids in them at all, background or otherwise, seemed like a different world, one that existed only in fiction.

After a minute, he decided to just accept it. He didn’t really need to understand why she’d forgiven him, anyway, and he probably never would one way or another.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” is what he settled on, stiff but sincere, and she gave him an understanding smile.

She hadn’t seemed this old when he’d seen her before; it made him feel quite young by comparison, in a way he wasn’t really used to. But then, he supposed, she’d probably been pretending to be a machine then. Plausible deniability, on her part or on Kamski’s, or both. Chloe must have had quite a lot of time to grow and develop.

What came out of his mouth next surprised him. “May I ask you a sensitive question?”

Chloe paused for only a split second, apparently surprised, and then nodded. “Certainly, but I reserve the right not to answer.”

“You seem… comfortable with yourself,” he explained haltingly. “Which I assume is from having quite a lot of time to explore your own identity.” He paused for a split second, uncomfortable, and then pressed on. “How does one go about exploring their sexuality?”

Chloe’s surprise was almost audible, but there was a genuinely pondering look on her face as they turned around to head back towards the precinct, almost in unison.

“Is this a sex question or an identity question?” she asked at last.

Connor flushed. “The latter,” he said quickly.

Chloe was quiet for a few more moments as they walked. “Why are you asking me, out of anyone?” she asked eventually.

Connor shrugged uncomfortably.

“We only have a passing acquaintance,” he explained slowly, hesitantly. “So you’re essentially impartial. You’ve had more time to explore yourself than any other android I know, including Markus, since he’s been a deviant for so little time. I thought… if I could ask anyone, I could ask you and not suffer too many repercussions.”

Chloe nodded, slow and thoughtful.

“I realized I was aromantic a while back,” she said matter-of-factly, head tilted to watch him. He ran a search on the term and nodded his understanding, and she continued, “It took quite a while. At first I thought I was maybe too young to be getting crushes, and I hadn’t developed that far yet. Then I thought it was because I had too little exposure to the outside world. Who was I going to get a crush on, Elijah?” She rolled her eyes, and Connor had to smile a little. “But that wasn’t it either. I just wasn’t interested, not even in the idea.”

She stopped for a minute, and he let her think. They were almost halfway back to the precinct now.

“So my experience might be a bit different,” she continued, with a small smile. “But I’d suggest you give serious thought to who you’d want to be in a relationship with, not just who you think you’re supposed to. If you have to force it, it’s probably not right.”

Connor hummed uncertainly. He understood her words, but…

Well. It just didn’t seem like it would be that simple.

She caught his eye and smiled.

“You can kiss me if you want to try,” she said carelessly, eyes glittering with something like amusement. “I wouldn’t mind – it’s not like I get the chance often.”

Connor considered that for a moment, and briefly imagined his lips against hers, the way he’d seen other people do, bodies pressed together just a little-

“No thank you,” he said hastily, and she quite rightfully laughed at him.

His smile came out embarrassed, but he didn’t take it back.

----------

Hank got his first clue when Connor started to put LGBTQ documentaries on the television whenever he had a chance.

It had initially surprised Hank that Connor was lingering this long over the idea of romance, but in hindsight it shouldn’t have; Connor had thus far chosen to explore his identity in phases. He’d explored clothes and colors and decorations all together, and games with movies and outings, and technological history over the course of a week with nearly unbreakable focus – once he hit on a new problem, he worked at it until he was satisfied. There was no reason that this would be any different.

Maybe the real reason Hank was so confused was that he hadn’t expected it to take this long.

And one or two might have been attributed to Connor talking to others, but after Connor put on the fifth that month, watching intently, Hank started to get the idea. He was a police detective for a reason, after all. A long time ago, he’d been a borderline prodigy.

It wasn’t that Hank hadn’t ever thought about it before.

Well, that was almost a lie. It hadn’t occurred to him to think about Connor coming out. But he’d thought about Cole, and remembered how his parents, so long ago, had reacted to his lesbian sister. And he’d remembered how he hadn’t spoken more than a few words to his sister in decades because of that.

“I remember the day gay marriage got legalized,” he said conversationally, and Connor started, turning to him with wide and curious eyes. Hank shrugged at him. “I honestly didn’t even know it was up for vote at the time, but I woke up that morning and there were rainbows all over the internet. Rainbow drinks, rainbow food, rainbow clothes, hell, public buildings lit up in rainbow colors to celebrate. People were talking about it all over, hashtag lovewins – that one stuck around for a while, people loved it.”

Connor tilted his head, the exact same curious gesture he always made. “What did you think?” he asked.

“Well, at first I figured it was pretty cool, but it didn’t really have that much to do with me,” Hank said casually. The memory came easily; he’d been pretty self-absorbed then, focused on his own ambitions. Heh. “But then Jeffrey called me.”

“You were already friends back then,” Connor said, thoughtful, and it wasn’t always obvious how young Connor was but times like this, so surprised that he and Jeffrey had been friends twenty years ago when they were both over fifty years old, it kind of showed.

“We joined the force around the same time,” Hank agreed. “We’d been friends for almost a decade at that point – nothing like now, obviously. Anyway, he wanted to know what I thought of it too, and I told him basically what I told you. As soon as I was done, he came out to me.” He caught Connor’s startled expression and had to grin. “Yeah- he doesn’t spread it around, but he’s not in the closet either. He says he’s married to his work, but that’s an inside joke – his husband’s an ex-con.”

That surprised a genuine laugh out of Connor, rare enough that it made Hank grin too.

“I’ve heard it a thousand times,” he tacked on, leaning back and noticing the Connor had at some point paused the documentary. “It’s not even funny anymore, frankly.”

“I don’t know, it’s certainly funny to me,” Connor disagreed, giving Hank a small grin, and Hank snorted.

“You’ve got bad taste in humor, son.”

He’d have to introduce Connor to Brooklyn 99 later. He’d love it.

---------

New Jericho didn’t have a gym, exactly, but there was a large room spread with padding on one of the lower floors, which served essentially the same purpose – androids didn’t need to work out, of course, but some of them liked to.

Connor only ever used it when he was teaching North the forms from his combat programs, but he had it on good authority that she used it whenever she got the chance. Especially to practice, but for other things as well, moving just to feel her servos whir and her artificial tendons stretch.

He was running her through one of his favorite sets, meant to unbalance and knock down an enemy, when Markus appeared, striding through the doors like he was at home here as anywhere else, and maybe he was.

“Connor!” he called out, and he sounded pleased. “I’ve been looking for you! I should have known you were in here.”

Connor’s running explanation to North broke off into stutters, and in the middle of a motion, he faltered, tipped, and then fell, landing hard on the ground in a daze. Mortified, he scrambled up back to his feet and swung around to look at Markus, who was smiling at him, clearly amused and warmly affectionate.

Connor hadn’t understood the term ‘his heart skipped a beat’ before. He did now.

“A-ah, hello, Markus,” he greeted, fidgeting as he tried to calm his embarrassment. “What did you need?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Markus admitted shamelessly, coming closer. “I’m glad you and North get along so well – and I heard you spoke to Chloe recently?”

Connor nodded quickly, and the two of them spoke for a few more minutes – Markus eventually confessed that he’d wanted to know how Connor’s work environment had been so far, and Connor explained what he could, which he felt was embarrassingly little. He wasn’t always particularly good at picking up on everything he should, in a social environment, and he didn’t have answers to all of Markus’ questions. Markus assured him it was fine, but Connor was still rather embarrassed, and he kept fidgeting until Markus smiled at him again and left the way he’d come.

“North,” he whispered as soon as Markus left, feeling stunned, “I think I’m gay.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” North agreed, with clear amusement.

---------

Once the realization had finally hit Connor in its entirety, it seemed obvious. The nervousness around many of his closer male friends, the constant curiosity that led him to ask relationship questions that seemed to surprise some of the others, the disinterest in women that he’d noticed almost from the start- it made sense.

It also felt like a secret that stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t help but remember Ben’s apologetic correction, most couples are.

He should come out to Hank first. He was closer to Hank than essentially anyone, and he knew, from the conversation he and Hank had had before, that Hank would most likely be okay with it.

But he found himself anxious. It sometimes felt like Hank was all he had, and the very last thing he wanted to do was to risk alienating him. Irrationally, despite everything – or perhaps because of everything – he worried that this would be the final straw.

The first time it occurred to him to talk to Captain Fowler, he dismissed it entirely. While Fowler and Hank were good friends, the man still made Connor a little nervous, as such a significant and direct authority figure. Besides which, they didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Then the thought occurred to him again, and again, his mind wandering back to it periodically – almost every time the topic came up, including twice when Hank asked why he’d so suddenly stopped talking about it.

Eventually, he gave in and awkwardly suggested that Hank go on ahead – he wanted to talk to Captain Fowler about something before they left. It wasn’t even technically a lie. Hank gave him a weird look, but went on easily enough.

Connor waited another minute or two once he’d gone, working up his nerves, and then went to knock on Fowler’s office door. He waited for permission, and then went inside.

Captain Fowler was packing up for the day, but he turned to Connor as he entered, one eyebrow raised. “Connor,” he greeted briskly. “What is it that couldn’t wait for tomorrow?”

Connor fidgeted, and Fowler’s eyebrow raised further.

“Captain,” he said at last, uncomfortable. “May I ask you a personal question?”

Fowler stared at him.

“Hank warned me about your personal questions,” he said at last, sardonic, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Then, “Sure, shoot.”

Connor swallowed, letting his gaze fall to the ground, and hesitated long enough for Fowler to clear his throat impatiently.

“Do you… have any advice, about coming out?” he asked, soft and so embarrassed that his voice was only a little louder than a whisper.

There was a long moment of complete silence, and Connor tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Coming out,” Fowler said slowly, almost incredulously. “As LGBT?”

Connor nodded without looking up.

“You know I’m married to my work,” Fowler said, with no hint that it was a joke at all. Still, Connor smiled a little.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your husband is an ex-con.”

Fowler snorted, and another long, interminable minute passed. It occurred to Connor, belatedly, that Hank may have been messing with him.

“Sure,” Fowler said finally, and Connor started, looking up with more surprise than he wanted to admit to. Fowler didn’t quite look sympathetic, but he certainly appeared more forgiving than he had a minute ago, if still a little bemused. He dropped back into his chair, and gestured for Connor to sit in the one across from him. “I assume you heard I’m gay from Hank, he’s one of maybe three people that know that joke – he tell you how I came out?”

Connor shook his head. “Only that you did it the day gay marriage was initially legalized.”

“It made for a good opener,” Fowler agreed, and he seemed to be settling into the conversation, arms crossing. “Ideally, you’d test the waters first, see where they stand before you go all-in. Have you talked to Hank yet? I mean, I assume this is about Hank first and foremost.”

“Not about… me,” Connor said hesitantly, still fidgeting with his sleeve. But it was reassuring, Fowler’s easy acceptance – and, for some reason, the fact that he’d taken it for granted that Hank was that important to Connor, that Connor would be thinking of him. “But I’d been watching some documentaries, and he talked about his stance then.”

Fowler huffed a little, and Connor thought he might’ve been amused.

“Hank’s not a bad guy,” he said grudgingly. “It sounds like he handled that part for you, maybe on purpose.” He shrugged. “Once I knew where he stood, I told him I was glad I’d be able to get married now. It’s a little easier to be blunt, if you can bring yourself to.”

Connor could be blunt; Hank complained rather often that he was too much so.

“And if I… didn’t want to?” he asked, uncertain despite himself.

Fowler sighed, but he didn’t seem resentful; instead, he settled in, and they kept talking.

---------

Connor made dinner for Hank most days, when he could get away with it, so that seemed like the obvious place to start: he made something nicer than usual, with less mind to nutritional information and more to Hank’s tastes, and waited for him to be most of the way done before he spoke.

Hank seemed to pick up on his mood, maybe because he couldn’t completely stop his LED from flickering nervously every so often, and he ate scrolling absently through his phone instead of fielding Connor’s usual conversation.

“Hank,” Connor said at last, his strain not quite coming through to his voice, “may I tell you something personal?”

Hank shut off his phone immediately, flipped it so the screen faced down, and raised an eyebrow at Connor. “That’s new,” he said mildly. Connor’s expression pinched a little, and his face immediately took on an apologetic cast and he waved Connor on.

Connor fidgeted, weaving his coin around and around his fingers, rocking slightly with his feet tucked under him.

“I talked to Chloe,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat and spoke a little clearer, though without looking at Hank. “About, ah, exploring one’s identity, since she has the most experience – she had some good advice, I think, and I’ve been… thinking.”

He faltered again, but Hank didn’t move to interrupt, though one eyebrow had crooked up a little. He’d stopped eating, but when Connor’s gaze flickered down again, he resumed.

“I react differently to North than the other Jericho leaders,” he said, and he knew it was a touch scattered, didn’t entirely make sense, but he couldn’t help it; all of his careful scripting seemed to have deleted itself. “I understand some of it, but there’s no reason for me to get so flustered around them and not around North. And there was that worker at the animal shelter, and it was so strange that I was so easily distracted…”

He was fidgeting harder even as he trailed off, one hand coming up to tug at his ear, which was a new one. It was always hard for Connor to come to terms with any part of his identity, let alone one which was supposed to be so big.

Hank didn’t seem to be silently laughing at him, which was a blessing, but he wasn’t otherwise reacting either.

Fowler had suggested he be blunt, if he could.

“I think I’m gay,” he said at last, gaze intent on the table. “Most likely. It’s, um, consistent with everything I’ve noticed so far.”

And then he fell silent. After a few moments, he heard Hank put his fork down and glanced up anxiously. Hank looked contemplative, gaze piercing in a way that was unique to him. Connor analyzed his expression, and he didn’t seem dubious, or irritated or… anything but pensive.

“Whatever you figure makes you happy, kid,” Hank said at last, and his eyes crinkled into a fond and faintly amused expression he took on mostly when he thought Connor was overcomplicating something simple. “You know I ain’t gonna hold anything like that against you.”

Connor beamed at him, feeling the tension drain out of his shoulders like a weight falling away.

“I know,” he said sincerely, because for all his worries he’d never really expected that Hank would be angry.

---------

Almost a month after Connor came out to Hank, Alicia finally made her move, after several months of flustered conversation and furtive looks.

She caught Connor just at the end of the work day, by his desk as he was packing up. It wasn’t quite the first time, so he paused, giving her a faintly expectant look. She was pink, barely enough to be noticeable, but she seemed more determined than usual, he thought.

“Hey, Connor,” Alicia said, her tone a touch lower and quicker than it was talking to anyone else. “Would you like to meet after work, um, at that android-run coffee shop? Blue Bean Café? I know they have some good thirium drinks they recently put up for sale.”

Connor hesitated, watching her for a long moment.

“As a date?” he clarified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hank go still, watching Connor to see how he’d react.

She nodded quickly, eyes hopeful.

He considered, tugging lightly at his social protocols for help until he finally came to a decision.

“I’m sorry, Alicia,” he said apologetically, deliberately keeping his focus on her to the exclusion of anyone else. “I recently concluded that I’m gay, so going out with you would be under quite false pretenses.” He smiled at her gently, trying to be reassuring even as his chest squeezed nervously. “But your suggestion was very thoughtful. I appreciate it.”

Alicia blinked rapidly, and Connor winced as he saw the dawn of humiliation start to appear in her eyes before she visibly forced it down and gave him a strained smile.

“Oh dear, that’s embarrassing for me,” she said, with a clear attempt at good humor. “I should have guessed, all the best ones usually are. Thanks for telling me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be rude,” Connor demurred, belying himself by glancing furtively at the rest of the bullpen. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alicia.”

“Yeah,” she agreed rapidly, glancing away, and didn’t quite run off but she did walk rather quickly.

As soon as she was gone, Tina yelled, “You owe me twenty bucks, Collins!”

“God damn it,” Ben muttered, and Connor’s wince eased into a faint smile. He’d be alright.

Hank clapped him on the back, apparently coming to the same conclusion. “Thirium drinks, huh? In the mood to celebrate?”

Connor glanced around, and no one seemed overly concerned. From the door of his office, Fowler gave him a small nod, and Tina and Reed seemed to be exchanging money as well, Reed scowling faintly.

“Maybe,” he allowed after a moment, glancing at Hank. “If you don’t mind.”

“Anything to break you out of your rut, kid,” Hank jabbed. “God knows you need the help.”

“I do not,” Connor objected. “I’m doing just fine.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” Hank agreed at last. “I guess you are.”

#dbh #connor #hank anderson #jeffrey fowler #chloe #north #markus #josh #simon #gavin reed #tina chen #fanfiction #my writing

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meetthetank · 6 years ago

Text

Peccatum Chapter 9: March

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/33391545

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

“So you shat your pants?” 11S asks.

The other scouts at the table can’t help but laugh at 9S, who buries his face in his arms in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

“No! I keep telling you I didn’t shit my pants!” he yells just loud enough for the whole mess tent to hear him. He catches a glimpse of 2B giving him an odd look before he sinks into himself more, “She just...We were sparring and she won and I got embarrassed. That’s it!”

“Oooh no, that’s not it,” 801S, an older scout, says with a sly grin, “You were all sweaty, squirming, acting all hot and bothered.”

“I was not!!”

“Yes, you were!” 801S’ singsong voice makes 9S groan, “Did getting your ass kicked by a lovely lady...excite you? Is our Nines a little deviant?”

9S feels his face flush beet red, prompting a round of laughter from the table, “I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop!!”

“What a story this will be!” shouts 42S, an aspiring bard, “9S, the young scout with a troubled past, returns from his northern excursion with an exotic and mysterious Coatyl woman! Her beauty only matched by her ferocity! A simple sparring match goes awry when things become deliciously heated and they-”

“That is if 6O doesn’t snatch her up first.” mutters 32S.

The table erupts into laughter once again. Fed up with their antics, 9S abruptly stands up and tries to make a hasty exit from the mess tent.

“Attention!!”

The bellowing voice of Commander White stops him in his tracks and silences the tent of hungry soldiers in an instant. Her steely gaze scans the tent to make certain she has everyone’s full attention.

“Tomorrow at dawn,” she begins, “We will be beginning our march towards Vigo.”

Murmurs ripple through the mess tent.

“I realize this is a month earlier than when we had planned originally, but we have received word that an aquatic demon of unknown size has been sighted in the bay. All ship traffic has been halted until the demon is either destroyed or moves on.”

Again, she waits until the muttering amongst the soldiers comes to a stop.

“Our task remains the same, however. We will assist Vigo in the evacuation of civilians, defending refugee camps, and transportation of supplies. The only thing that’s changed as of now is when we’re expected. Dismissed.”

The moment Commander White turns to exit the tent, conversation erupts from all the tables. All except the scouts, who share concerned looks with each other. Even 9S returns to his seat, his annoyance with the others quickly abandoned.

“A demon in the bay? What do you think it could be?” 32S mutters.

“Maybe a siren type?”

“I thought those were smaller…”

“They can get big, I’ve read reports of one that was the size of a mammoth.”

“That wouldn’t be enough to shut down a whole trade city.”

“Maybe it’s just a whale?”

“Whale’s don’t come into bays, dumbass.”

“What if…” 9S says, staring through his friends, “What if it’s something new?”

The others give him odd looks, “What do you mean, new?” 11S asks.

“I mean what if this is something we haven’t seen before? An aquatic siege engine type? Transport type? Or maybe some weird whale hybrid they’re trying to roll out.”

“...If it’s that, how in the world would we get rid of it?” 801S rubs his chin in thought.

9S shrugs, “Dunno, but that’s not really our job, is it?”

“No, but I’m gonna guess you’re gonna try and find out what the plan is,” he says with a grin.

“I won’t be doing anything if you lot don’t keep your mouths shut.” he growls.

The scouts ease back into their normal conversations, mainly complaints about the early start tomorrow. Before he gets drawn back into the group, he spots 2B on her way out and gives her a small wave. She returns his gesture, and he can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face.

“Have you ever been to Vigo, 2B?” 6O asks as they exit the mess tent.

“-M made a point t’ stay away fr-...m human settlements.” she responds with a mouthful of potatoes, “There were too many stories we were told as cubs of Coatyls being hunted for sport or paraded around circuses.”

“Right…” 6O sighs, “so, does that mean you’re not gonna stick around when we get to Vigo?”

“I...I’m not sure yet. I still don’t have a good lead on where A2 is. Maybe this city will have something.”

“You think they might be hiding out in Vigo?”

“Or someone that may have seen something.”

“You’re not seriously going to ask every person in the city if they’ve seen them, are you?” There’s a hint of genuine concern in 6O’s voice that makes 2B huff, “Well when you say it out loud…”

6O giggles and playfully jabs her in the side. “I’m just teasing you. I’ll help you ask around when I’m off duty.”

2B mutters a quick thanks, then quickly looks over her shoulder as the laughter of the scouts' echoes through the tent. For such small men, they could certainly be quite loud.

“Well, we’d be glad to have you stick around with us, 2B. I know there would be some of us that would be sad to see you go.”

“Hm...Perhaps.”

True to her word, Commander White’s wake up call came before the sun had begun to rise. Or rather, Lieutenant Jackass’ wake up call. She parades around the camp, slamming two iron cooking pans together and shouting as loud as her lungs will allow. One by one, annoyed soldiers emerge from the tents, only to be immediately assigned a task to break down the camp. Within minutes, activity surges through the encampment and it begins to disappear, packed into crates and carriages, piece by piece. The sun is just cresting over the horizon by the time there’s nothing left but a worn down patch of dirt.

9S and the other scouts are assigned to helping the stablehands with the horses. They hitch up the temperamental beasts with little resistance. Despite being bred for war, they seem to sense that something is about to change and need to be calmed down with pats and bribery treats every so often. 9S isn’t too bothered, however. He’s been around horses as long as he can remember; their bizarre behaviors comes as no surprise to him. In fact, they seem to be fairly comfortable around him, one of the large chestnut geldings even nibbles at his hair to get a laugh out of him.

2B, on the other hand, does not mix well with horses.

With her dragonic strength, she volunteered herself to lift some of the heavier crates. Things that would take two or three full-grown men to lift, she would carry like it was nothing. Occasionally, 9S will stop in his tracks as he watches her heft box after box into a carriage, with 6O standing close by cheering her on.

Other times he watches her try to pat the dappled mare that’s hitched to the carriage she’s loading, only for the agitated beast to try and bite off her fingers. She squawks and leaps back, yelling profanities and jumping between common and a strange language 9S presumes to be dragonic. The mare, of course, doesn’t yell back. She just snorts and shakes her head at nothing in particular while 2B hisses at her.

It’s...much less impressive than watching her feats of strength.

Still, he can’t help but laugh. It makes her seem far less intimidating. Endearing, even. It’s nice to see she’s not always so dour and serious, or at least not the point that she isn’t above arguing with a horse.

She really is something...

He snorts as 6O eventually steps between the huffy Coatyl and the horse as if she’s separating two brawlers. They’re too far away for him to hear the conversation fully, but he swears he hears 6O telling 2B that she would lose that fight. 9S makes a mental note to tease her about this later. For now, though, he has a list of tasks to deal with, including helping his mother load fifteen cages of ornery ravens into carts.

Being the unofficial assistant to a healer means 2B is volunteered to help sick and injured soldiers into a cramped carriage set to be in the middle of the march. Her strength makes lifting full grown men easy, but 6O and the other healers have to guide her into not jostling broken limbs and tender stitching too much.

By the time the army would normally be settling in for breakfast, they begin the march towards Vigo. By 21O’s rough estimation they would reach the city within the week, but they would have to keep a quick pace. Traveling alone is one thing, but traveling with the entire company is another. No falling behind or rushing ahead. Everything must be in time with each other, otherwise, the whole caravan would fall apart. Commander White rides at the front, flanked by Jackass and several high ranking officers. Behind them, most of the army keeps pace with supply carriages dotted within the ranks. A troop of the best performing soldiers brings up the rear as a precaution against surprise attacks.

However, a solid mile ahead of the main army, the scouts travel in a loose and unsuspecting band, with one addition. 2B circles above them, flying ahead for a mile or so and then doubling back to circle a few times, then repeating the process. She insisted on staying with the scouts despite the protests of 9S. He did not take too kindly to her pointing out that they were small and easily targeted by anything larger than a house cat. She was right, but she didn’t have to say it so harshly…If a fight did break out, having a dragon overhead would be an incredible boon.

He could do without the teasing, though.

“You’re a lucky little bastard, you know that?” 11S says as 2B circles their group.

9S looks up at his friend and sighs, “What?”

“You know what people would give to have a godsdamned dragon be interested in them?”

He feels his cheeks heat up, “She’s not interested in me.”

“Why is she literally hovering above you, though?”

“Cause we’re easy targets!”

“Getting a bit defensive there, aren’t ya, Nines?” 801S says with a sly smile.

“Yeah, you’re not subtle there, buddy.” adds 11S. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is ‘going on’?” 9S huffs.

“You fancy her.”

9S sputters and stops in his tracks, “I d-...Bu-....Y-...Shut up! She can probably hear you!”

801S cackles and 9S swears he sees 2B’s head tilt downward before she soars on ahead once more.

“So you do!”

“Well it’s obvious isn’t it?!” 9S growls. “I mean, you’ve seen her, she’s gorgeous and strong and-!”

He feels a roiling in his stomach at the admission of his feelings coming to light. It’s nonsensical though! It’s not like he’s about to propose to her, he’s just admitting to finding her attractive. So why does it feel like he’s about to vomit?!

“Tell her then,” 32S mumbles bluntly.

“Are you mad?! No! She’d eat me alive!”

“She didn’t eat you alive when you got a hard-on from her kicking your ass, that means she likes you, right?” 42S says to himself mostly.

“I did not-!!” 9S takes a deep breath and tries to calm his embarrassment before he ends up shouting loud enough for the Commander to hear, “...Look, so what if I do...fancy her, there’s no way she’d ever give a moment of her time to someone like me.”

801S gives him a sideways glare, “What the hell are you talking about, 9S?”

“2B’s the kind of person who’d end up with a legendary hero or something, not some scrawny half-breed.”

“You might not be entirely wrong, but there’s plenty of self-made heroes in this army,” 801S says with nothing but sincerity in his voice. “Yet she’s spending her time with you.”

“And 6O,” 42S adds quickly.

“And 6O but, let's face it, Nines. 6O is more likely to be your new step-mom than she is to snatch up 2B.”

“Hey, wait a second, what the hell does that mean?!”

Their conversation switches in the blink of an eye and as 9S gets drawn into another round of teasing, he sees 2B flying a bit closer to the ground than before. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and in an instant, she’s soaring ahead of the group once more.

9S feels his stomach drop and flutter at the same time.

#nier automata #nier fanfiction #fanfiction #fantasy au #2B #9S #6O #801S #2B9S

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didiwritethis · 6 years ago

Text

Cupid Flies Commercial (1/7)

Emma Swan is having the worst trip of her life, only to have a sexy Irishman come along and make it worse. He's rude, he's arrogant, and Emma can't stop fighting with him. When their antagonism somehow lands them in bed for a very steamy layover, Emma just thinks it's a one-time thing. And that's all it was--until he shows up on her doorstep.

Inspired by Samantha Young's Fight or Flight.

Read on AO3

Emma Swan was already having a terrible day before her flight was cancelled. She’d woken up late, nursing a bad hangover, and in her rush to make her (now cancelled) flight, she had to forgo a cup of coffee. She’d barely made it in time, sprinting to her gate, only to arrive just as they started to announce that the flight was cancelled, due to ‘weather conditions’ out East.

She let out a big sigh, unwilling to wait until the end of the announcement. Since the passengers would be rebooked, she figured she’d get ahead of the rest. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, and started striding over to the attendant at the gate, who was beaming her direction. The attendant, a small brunette, was overly smiley for someone who’d have to deal with over a hundred disgruntled passengers, but Emma shrugged it off.

Just as she neared the desk, she was rudely shoved by a hefty laptop bag and its owner. He was a tall, raven-haired man who took her place, and probably didn’t even realize that he had hit her.

“I need to be rebooked through to Boston, please. Upgrade me too.” He said in a gruff Irish (or so Emma thought) accent.

The brunette blushed, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Of course, sir. Let me just check…We’ll have to reroute you through Chicago, and it’s an overnighter, I’m sorry…but you’re in luck, Mr Jones. I can upgrade you to the last remaining seat in first class.”

Emma was furious. Not only did this guy shove her out of the way and not apologize, he took the last first class seat (that she was hoping to convince the attendant to upgrade her to for free).

“It’s fine.” He said, waving it off. “I’ll take it. Just so long I’m getting out of Tallahassee today.”

“What?” Emma said, shoving her way up to the counter.

The rude Irishman (the name Emma had been calling him in her head) turned to face her, and Emma had to suck in a breath.

The man was gorgeous. Model gorgeous. A thick growth of dark hair that fell artfully across his forehead, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen- even bluer than Elsa’s, if that was possible. He had sharp cheekbones, and a hint of a handlebar moustache around his (unexpectedly) full lips. She couldn’t decide if it was more than just scruff, but it looked good. Even his outfit – tailored navy suit – screamed model. No wonder the attendant was so eager to please! Still, it would take a lot more than a pretty face to rattle Emma Swan.

“What?” he said, staring at her as if she were a crazy person.

“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at him, “shoved me out of the way and took the seat I wanted. It should have been mine.”

He blinked once and waved his hand dismissively at her. “You’re mistaken, lass. I didn’t see you. I got this seat fair and square.” He then turned back around to take his new boarding pass and his passport from the attendant. “Excuse the shrieking lady.” He told her.

Emma’s fury turned into blind rage and it took all the strength that she had not to deck the man across his stupid, attractive face.

“Excuse me?!”

He turned around and looked at her again, this time with a sneer of condescension.

“Sorry, Princess. Guess you won’t get your way this time.”

And with that, he strode off.

Emma wanted to scream. She wanted to storm off and shove the man into the nearest potted plant. Alas, her rational brain told her to get her ticket and then run off to maim and murder the man. He as bad as some of the perps she dealt with!

She’d get the last word.

“Whatever, dick!” she yelled at his rapidly retreating back. She hoped he had heard.

She then took a deep breath, and turned to the desk.

“I need to be rebooked to Boston, please.” She forced a smile at the attendant, who stared at eye with wide eyes.

“Right. Um, sorry about that. I did see you approach, but he happened to get in front.”

Happened? The attendant was acting like he had power-walked ahead of her instead of practically throwing her out of the way.

“So we’re rerouting a lot of the passengers through Chicago. And the connection leaves the next day, sorry. I’ll put you on our waiting list for first class, though. In case something opens up.”

She paused.

“We’re really sorry.” And she sounded like she meant it.

Emma smiled genuinely at the attendant, who smiled sheepishly back.

“Thank you,”-she peered at the name badge-“Aurora.”

She took her ticket and vouchers, stuffing them all haphazardly into her bag.

At least the day couldn’t get any worse.

Her flight was rerouted through O’Hare, with an overnight stay at the airport hotel. She didn’t want to spend any more time away from Boston, and it was at least a 3 hour flight, but at least it would be a nice break. And the airline was paying for it, so even better.

The one other small silver lining was that now she had a little time to go grab a coffee. Spying a coffee cart with a short line, she hurried over. The flight to O’Hare was boarding in 15 minutes, and there were only 5 people in line. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spied someone heading towards the same line.

That someone was the Rude Irishman. Suddenly Emma’s anger was back.

She sprinted to the line, just managing to make it in front of him.

“You snooze, you lose.” She shot over her shoulder.

“Real mature.” He shot back.

“Doesn’t matter. Here’s one line you can’t shove your way through.”

“You really are crazy.”

“You really are a dick!”

“You’re weirdly obsessed with my dick.”

She spun around in indication.

“Those are insults. Surely you must get a ton of those a day.”

“Perhaps, but none that are that specific.”

Without meaning to, Emma’s eyes drifted to the very subject matter they were discussing, but she caught herself quickly. She couldn’t stop the blush though.

“It hurts to be objectified like this.”

She glared at his smug face.

“Whatever. Dick.” She smirked at him. “I’m still ahead of you.”

He didn’t respond, just strode out of the line, heading towards the front.

Emma’s jaw dropped. Was he just going to cut in front? Oh hell no! She took off after him.

He reached the front of the line when Emma caught up to him. Why’d he have such a long stride?

“Excuse me, madam, my flight is departing soon. Would you mind if I cut in?” He said to the older lady in front of him, turning on the charm.

She smiled at him, clearly affected by his dumb cute smile. “Of course, dear.”

She stepped aside and let him get in front.

“I love your accent. Where’s it from?”

“Ireland.” He responded with a smile.

You can’t just cut the line like that! There are other people waiting! Emma wanted to yell. Instead, she turned to the woman with a charming (or so she hoped) smile of her own.

“I’m on the same flight as this man, would you mind letting me jump ahead as well?”

The Irishman snorted, and she glared at his back.

The older lady, frowned, and tapped his arm, and he turned around to face her.

“Do you know this woman?” she asked.

He glanced over at Emma, a blank expression on his face.

“I’ve never seen this woman before in my life.”

Emma’s mouth fell open.

The older lady’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so, missy. Back to the line with you.”

Emma glared at the Irishman, wanting to scream at him, but he smirked at her.

“Better hurry, lass. There’s quite a queue forming.”

She whirled around to confirm, and somehow, ten other people had joined the line! There was no way she was getting her coffee now.

“Thanks, dick!” She yelled, as she stormed away, but not before noticing his shoulders shake from a silent laugh.

She headed to her gate, and proceeded to the counter to see if maybe, just maybe, she could snag a first class seat. She really needed a win.

She smiled at the attendant as she approached, a kindly looking man with red curls and wire-rimmed glasses.

“Hi, I’m on the waiting list for first class…and I was wondering…” she trailed off and smiled hopefully.

The man smiled back.

“Of course miss, let me check.” He gestured for her boarding pass, which she gratefully handed over.

She heard him tap away at his computer for a few minutes, his expression unreadable.

Then his head shot up and he grinned widely at her.

“You’re very lucky, miss Swan. We’ve had someone cancel, so I’m able to book you all the way through to Boston on first class.”

She could have kissed the man.

“Thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much this means!”

He laughed softly and shook his head.

“Just doing my job, miss. Have a great flight.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

She had lingered a bit before boarding, sequestering herself in a corner so that she could fire off texts to David and Elsa to update them of the situation. When she finally did board, she was faced with a nasty surprise.

Her seatmate was none other than the Irishman. What had she done to deserve this?

To his credit, he didn’t look happy to see her either.

“Are you following me?” he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

Emma snorted in disgust.

“Hell no. I’d rather throw myself off a mountain.”

“Bit harsh, love.”

Emma scowled at him.

“I’m not your love, and my seat is the window, so move, buddy.”

He stood up and moved to let her in, wordlessly gesturing to her seat.

She made her way in, plopping down in her seat.

“Give me your bag.”

“What?” she asked in confusion.

He sighed.

“Your bag. I’ll put it in the bin for you.”

Emma deflated a bit.

“Oh. Err, thanks.”

She held her bag out to him, and he reached up to put it in the overhead bin. Somewhere along the way from stealing her coffee and boarding the plane, he’d ditched his jacket, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and also managed to untuck his shirt. A shirt that happened to rise up when he stretched, giving Emma a quick glance that confirmed what she already suspected – he had a nice body. Emma shook that thought out of her head.

He settled back down next to her.

Emma decided that she would just ignore him for the duration of the flight, but couldn’t help but get distracted by his arms. Was that a tattoo peeking out from one of his sleeves? Her eyes drifted up. Had his first two buttons always been undone? There was some chest hair that curled out at her. He was also wearing, she realised, a necklace with a skull and crossbones pendant. Who was this guy? A pirate?

He confused her – his outfit screamed business, but his necklace and tattoos screamed biker bad boy, and Emma never had a good encounter with either.

“See something you like?”

Emma’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Sure, there was a divider between them with a cup holder, but it was a lot smaller than she had assumed. There was no escaping each other’s gazes. Slightly embarrassed she was caught staring, she countered back.

“You wish.”

And then he surprised her by laughing.

“God, you’re a tough lass.”

Before Emma could respond, the flight attendant came by.

“May I offer you something to drink, Mr. Jones? Some champagne, perhaps?”

He tilted his body towards her.

“Two fingers of rum, if you’ve got it. Thanks.”

She nodded and looked over to Emma.

“And for you, Ms. Swan?”

“Coffee, please. But maybe the champagne too.”

Emma wasn’t going to turn down free champagne on her first (and probably only) first class experience.

They were each handed their drinks in turn, with the flight attendant promising to be back with Emma’s coffee.

Emma downed hers in one shot, and the Irishman shot her a bemused look.

“What?” she said defensively. “It’s been a long day.”

“Aye, that it has, love.”

“Not your love.”

His grin faded.

“Are you always ready for a fight, or are you just particularly determined to vex me?”

Emma bristled.

“I’m just not chummy with rude strangers who think it’s okay to shove people around.”

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Christ, we’ve been through this. I didn’t see you. And you have admit, you were acting a bit mental.”

“You were unbelievably rude! And you basically called me a princess who always gets her way!” she shot back.

“Oh, and your actions weren’t the actions of a woman who always gets her way? I thought you were going to throw a tantrum right there.”

“That’s rich coming from a prissy pretty boy who thinks he can flirt his way into everything.”

He snorted.

“Like you don’t bat your eyelashes and make men fawn all over you? I’m surprised you didn’t call up a sugar daddy and ask him to buy you a private plane!”

Emma was now more than enraged. No one had ever accused her of being spoiled and privileged. No one would after they found out what she’d been through. She leaned forward and across the divider to jab his arm with a finger.

“Listen buddy, I don’t have a sugar daddy, nor do I need one. I don’t need a man, full stop.”

She paused, thinking of something to throw back at him, to hurt him, but she couldn’t think of one. She was so angry and flustered by his words, she wasn’t sure what to say next. Plus, she thought, it would be an even longer fight if she kept bickering with this man.

“You don’t know me, okay? You don’t know my life.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Look, it’s been a very stressful trip and I….I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She finished, realizing that she was about to bring up the specifics of her trip, which wasn’t something she’d want to share with a stranger.

The Irishman said nothing, but continued to stare at her.

“You certainly don’t, lov-Swan.” He said finally.

And suddenly he was (kinda) nice again. What was his problem? He surprised her when he took her bag for her, and she was almost sure he was flirting with her when he caught her staring at him earlier, but his rapid switches in mood were giving her emotional whiplash. Still, better to keep things positive.

“Thanks, Jones.” She returned.

“Killian will do.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And this is the part where you tell me your name.”

“Swan is fine.”

He just rolled his eyes and shook his head at that.

The flight attendant was back, handing Emma her coffee and taking her empty glass.

“We’ll be taking off soon.” She told them both.

Emma nodded, and warmed her hands with her hot cup. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the rich smell. She took a sip and let out a happy sigh. As soon as they were in the air, she’d pop an Advil and pass out.

She’d be on her way home soon, if Killian Jones didn't give her an aneurysm first.

#cs #cs ff #CS fanfics #cs smut #ouat #smut #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan

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skelenyxx · 6 years ago

Text

//hesitation// ~ I’ll Save You

//No turning back now, I'm moving ahead toward the way out. Don't you hate how, We get left behind in the fallout.//

/*/

A couple more weeks passed. Everything still seemed to be moving painstakingly slow, despite my newfound determination. I still hardy slept, and I still had trouble focusing on class and training, but I was trying, and that was better than anything before I made my promise to Izuku.

I still visited him in the hospital regularly, wracking my brain for any way that I could help him. I scoured the internet for options, but despite my determination, deep down I knew that there was nothing medicine could do. Not even Recovery girl could bring him back.

But I didn't give up. Even if there was no obvious answer at the moment, I knew I had to keep searching, keep trying. If it were me, Izuku would never give up. I owed it to him to keep trying, even if it took me the rest of my life.

And so yet again, I sat in that sterile hospital room, seated beside his bed, my head in my hands as I cursed myself for being so completely useless. What kind of hero can't even save their best friend? All that training and I ended up completely useless. Izuku took the fall for my failed plan in that fight. Nobody vocalized it, but we all knew that Izuku would still be here if I hadn't done what I had, if I hadn't gotten so bold.

"You'll never be a hero, no matter how hard you try."

The words came back to me, and I quickly shook my head, forcing the memory away. I could be a hero, I had to believe that. Izuku believed in me, as did Shoto, Iida, Ochako, and the rest of my friends.

Even if I did nearly get someone killed.

Very often, I wished All Might were still here. He may have been bad at teaching, but he gave great pep talks. He could've said something inspiring that would push me to find my heart again, reminded me of what I could still do. But, who knows, maybe he would've blamed me too. I did put his successor in a coma, after all.

I glanced up at the figure lying in the bed, and I felt my chest constrict again as it so usually did when I looked at him. His cheeks had sunken drastically, casting a dark shadow over his usually bright and smiling face. He had changed so much since I'd met him two and half years ago. He'd always been a bit taller than me, but now he was much taller, pushing towards six feet tall, with a lean yet muscular build. His face filled out so it was no longer the soft, round face that I'd met as a 9th grader, but now with a strong jawline and cheekbones. His hair was still the same strange shade of green and as untruly as ever, but it was shorter than it used to be, which gave him a more mature look. It was crazy seeing how much he'd grown, but then again, so had I. It was hard to believe we were both 18 now.

"What would you do, Izuku?" I asked aloud, knowing I wouldn't receive an answer. "Tch," I clicked my tongue at myself. "I must sound crazy, asking you. It's not like you can answer me." I wondered about what he was experiencing, being in a coma. Was it like sleeping? Was he dreaming? Or was it almost like dying, where it was just... nothingness? Did he know what had happened to him, and was he truly fighting to come back to us, or did he have no control at all and was at the mercy of his own body? The last thought scared me, because if that were the case, then it was truly unlikely that I would ever see him awake again.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to think about something else. Thinking about the extreme possibility of Izuku never waking up just made me feel helpless, and to keep my promise to him I had to look forward and stay positive. Besides, I didn't want Shoto and the others worrying about my mental health anymore than they already did.

A glance at the clock on the wall made me click my tongue in annoyance again, realizing that they still hadn't fixed it from a few days ago when it stopped at 3:03, but judging by the sight of the sun setting over the city, it was time I begin to head back to the dorms. I used to stay late until visiting hours were over, but a rather confrontational conversation with Katsuki made me realize that I ought to be more considerate of my classmates.

"You need to stop staying out so late, you idiot," he had chastised me after waiting up for me in the common room a few days after my conversation with Shoto. "People need to sleep, dumbass."

"You don't have to stay up waiting for me, Kaachan," I mumbled, using the nickname that I had picked up from Izuku a couple years back and was never quite able to shake from my vocabulary.

"You're right, I don't, but the others are going to keep waiting up for you every night until they see you come back safe because they're worried about you for some fucking reason," he growled in annoyance, standing up and stalking towards me. "They need their sleep and it's pretty fucking inconsiderate that you're not taking into account how much sleep they're missing while waiting for you. Deku isn't going anywhere, so it couldn't kill you to come back at a decent fucking hour."

Katsuki acted like an ass, and had apparently been a lot worse before I met him, but he cared, even if he had a weird way of showing it. And his words reminded me that I was, in fact, being selfish. I was focused on my own pain, my own worries, not even paying attention to the fact that my classmates were worried about me and going out of their way to look out for me and my well being. After that, I began coming back to the dorms earlier, before everyone had gone to bed. The class had been pretty shocked to see me the first day I came back early, which wasn't all that surprising since most of them literally didn't see me anywhere other than class despite living in the same building.

"Ava's back?" Mina had practically screeched, throwing herself at me in a tight embrace. "I never get to see you anymore, you're always visiting Midoriya," she continued in a whine.

Mina's words only confirmed what Katsuki had reminded me; I was worrying my classmates, and even if I was off track to graduating in the spring, I should at least remove myself from their list of concerns so that they could focus on what was to come.

Ochako and Iida had ultimately been right; being around my classmates and near my friends had improved my mood, at least a little. They were just as vivacious and fun as they had been when I first met them at the end of our 9th grade year, and that joy was truly infectious sometimes. They were truly all going to make great Pro Heroes.

That wasn't to say they weren't all concerned about Izuku. I knew the smiles and fun was genuine, but I could see it in all of their eyes whenever his condition came up as a topic of conversation. They were as worried as I was, they just had a different way of showing it.

I stood up from my seat, sighing as I grabbed my bag from the floor beside me. Tomorrow would be Saturday, which meant I could come earlier in the day to see Izuku. With any luck, I'd be able to see Mrs. Midoriya as well, who'd been in and out earlier in the day when I was still stuck in class.

I moved swiftly down the hospital hallway, hoping to get to the next bus before it arrived in five minutes. My mind elsewhere, I didn't notice the young woman stand up from her chair in the waiting room, and I found myself colliding into her, knocking the papers from her hands and scattering them across the linoleum floor like flower petals in the wind.

"O-Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I apologized profusely, immediately crouching down to begin picking up her stuff.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she responded kindly, also crouching to begin grabbing them. "I should've been watching what was around me."

"No, no," I shook my head, handing her the papers I had gathered. "I was in a hurry and wasn't paying attention."

She smiled as she stood up, her dark hair framing her round face. Recognition sparked in her eyes and her smile suddenly grew even wider.

"You're that young hero from UA!" she exclaimed. "Angel Blade, right?"

I sighed internally, but smiled kindly anyway. "Yes, that's me."

"You were amazing in the fight in Tokyo, against the League of Villains. Your quirk is so powerful. I'm so jealous of it!"

I'd always felt a little uncomfortable with the praise of the media. To me, it felt undeserved, and I guess in a way I was a lot like Mr. Aizawa. I didn't care for being fawned over just because I was trying to help people. "It's nothing to be jealous of, really," I admitted.

"I think it is! You're going to make a great Pro, you and that one kid with the green hair. What was his name? Deku, wasn't it?"

I realized I was running short on time to catch the bus, and although I appreciated this woman's enthusiasm, I didn't have much time for it. "Yeah, that's him," I smiled. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I really have to go. I have to-"

She grabbed my wrist, her demeanor suddenly changing from excitement to seriousness. "Wait," she interrupted me. "I'm sorry, you probably get a lot of that. I just... I wanted to say thank you. You, Deku, and the rest of your team, you saved my life that night."

"We did?" I paused, suddenly listening intently to her words. I hadn't had the opportunity to interact with any of the victims from that night, other than from the news, and hearing her perspective of that night did mean a lot to me, even if I wasn't one to enjoy public interaction.

"Yeah, I mean, it was the other group of students that pulled me from the rubble of one of the buildings, but you guys were the ones who stopped Shigaraki, and gosh, most of you nearly died in the process. If you hadn't been there that night, I would've died. I'm actually really glad I got to run into you. Um, if it's at all possible, could you also extend my thanks to the others, and especially Deku?"

I was going to respond with a simple yes, that I would relay her words of thanks, but my expression told more than I intended, and realization struck her again.

"Oh," she breathed. "Deku is the student that's still hospitalized, isn't he? Well I guess that makes sense, considering how badly he was injured. Is that why you're here right now? Were you visiting him?"

Flustered by how perceptive and unconsciously prying she was, I managed to stutter out a response. "I-I'm not supposed to discuss his condition w-with anyone."

"Right, right," she facepalmed. "I'm sorry, I forget how secretive UA is about their students. I was just asking because, well, you see," she glanced around, like she was afraid of being overheard, before lowering her voice and uttering her next words. "I can help him."

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of her statement, but regardless, I felt my heart leap into my throat. She could help him? How? Even the doctors couldn't do anything, so how could she? "What do you mean?"

"My quirk," she whispered in response. "I don't know what his condition is exactly, but I can use my quirk to help him." She could probably tell how skeptical I was of her statement by the look on my face. "Look, I know you don't know me and you have no reason to trust what I'm saying, but you guys saved my life. It would be the least that I could do to repay him for it. So please," she smiled kindly again, "I only want to help."

"I..." I wasn't sure how to respond. I'd spent so much time researching to find a way to help him, and then by chance, someone who supposedly had the ability to do just that practically falls into my lap? It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. My heart was screaming at me, pounding in my chest as though it were crying out for me to accept her offer, to let her help him.

But I hesitated. Using a quirk for something like this if you aren't certified is very illegal. I of all people knew that very well. Yes I was desperate to help Izuku, but could I condone breaking the law?

"I'm sorry," I said after a moment. "But I can't allow that. Using your quirk for something like that, even with the best intentions, is illegal. I appreciate the offer, but I can't say yes."

She sighed, nodding in understanding. "I should've figured that'd be your answer. Regardless," she whipped a pen out of her bag and scribbled something on the corner of one of her papers before ripping it off and handing it to me. "If you change your mind, please don't hesitate to text or call me. Repaying him and you for everything you've done would mean the world to me."

/*/

I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with the faint street lights filtering through the curtains. Glancing at the clock, I could see it was late, way later than I should've been up, but I couldn't settle my mind enough to sleep.

It was silent in the building, all of my classmates and friends having gone to bed hours ago. I could hear my breath, in and out, and my mind whirled with thoughts. The dark encased me like a cocoon, trapping me inside the room I had once felt so comfortable in. What was I supposed to do? What was the right answer?

Was there a right answer?

I hadn't been able to suppress the guilt that had begun to drown me the moment I turned down the young woman's offer at the hospital. I knew that it was illegal and wrong to allow her to use her quirk, but what else had I been expecting to do if I found a way to help him? Was I truly gutless enough to not take the chance because it was against the rules?

I knew Izuku, Shoto, and Iida had gotten in trouble in their first year for unlicensed quirk usage, and hell, I was one of the only people that knew about it. Those three knew first hand the issues that could arise by doing such a thing. If we flaunt and break the rules because it suits our needs, well, that's something only villains do.

I knew Iida would be against it immediately, and likely, so would Ochako. Aspiring heroes need to be outstanding examples of following and upholding the law. Breaking it breaks my promise as a young hero to society to do just that. Granted, Iida has always been a stickler on the rules. Sometimes he really does act like he has a stick up his ass, but for good reason.

I wasn't exactly sure what Shoto would think. He cared about Izuku's well being just as much as I did, and he wasn't exactly shy of breaking or bending the rules if it meant doing the right thing, but would this qualify as doing the right thing? Shoto would do a lot of things, but would he be willing to do what I'm considering doing? I had considered telling him about what had happened at the hospital, seeing what he had to say, but when I came face to face with him when I got back to the dorms, I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. He was one of my closest friends, and I could tell him almost anything, but it felt wrong to further involve him in all of this. His mom was set to be released from the hospital within the next week. He was still dealing with the repercussions of his father's death, and what it meant for him and his family. I didn't want him to concern himself with any of this more than he already was. He, like everyone else, was concerned about Izuku, but adding illegal usage of a quirk in order to somehow save him shouldn't be added on top of it. This was my concern and mine alone.

So then the question arose: what would Izuku do? He had broken the rules so many times over the years in order to do what was right, but if I were the one in that hospital bed and he were the one faced with the decision of whether to break the law for the chance to save me, or to wait to find another option or until I woke up, would he do it?

In my mind's eye, I could picture it, me lying in a hospital bed and him, sitting at my bedside, eyebrows knit in determination. I could hear his voice, making the same vow I had.

I'll save you.

And suddenly, I knew the answer. He would do it, without a doubt, because Izuku was that kind of person. He didn't care about what it meant for himself, whether it meant risking or sacrificing his life, or hell, even breaking the law. If it meant saving someone, he would do it in a heartbeat.

If I lost my chance to be a hero for this decision, then in the end, it didn't matter to me, as long as he was okay. What happened to me was of no consequence, not in comparison to his life.

I turned over, reaching across my bed and grabbing my phone from my nightstand and typing a text to the number I had already save in my contacts.

"So tell me about this quirk of yours that can save Deku."

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lalcne-blog · 6 years ago

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index: illumia farryn

sunlight. a piano melody. dense forests. new books. glass slippers. fairytales. stepping into the unknown. quiet dinners. band-aids. cafes. grass-stained dresses.

TINY FINGERS DANCE across the piano keys, a distinct melody surrounding the room. illumia closes her eyes, imagining music notes floating through the air, the sunlight from the open window shining across them, perhaps even creating a rainbow without rain. a serene smile makes its way onto her face, an expression that would suit a much older woman, not a five year old like herself.

the music stops and she opens her eyes, looking expectantly at the woman standing beside the piano. her expression is stern.

❝ excellent, illumia. i can tell you’ve been practicing. ❞ despite the apathetic face, illumia is happy. this is high praise from her teacher. ❝ keep at it. you will achieve great things. ❞

illumia beams.

her childhood is full of pretty dresses and silk ribbons and lavish parties. she learns that she’s a noble and that she should act as such, sitting with her back straight and her legs positioned just right so that she appears elegant. she smiles around people she doesn’t know because a young lady must be polite, and her mother does the same thing, so why wouldn’t she ??

most of the time, she is given permission to play with the other children ( providing she doesn’t dirty her dress or stuff her face or let her hair fall out of place ), but as she grows older, she finds her parents requesting her presence during conversations more and more. at first, she sees this as a blessing. she isn’t being treated like a baby anymore.

but that feeling is a fleeting one.

she soon realises that she isn’t part of the conversation, at least not in the way she wishes to be. there is no room for her opinion. instead, she’s the subject of scrutiny. she is introduced to other nobles whose names always escape her the moment the night ends, but according to her mother, they are good friends. no proof is ever given to substantiate that.

the strangers’ responses to her vary, but most are along the lines of ❝ she’s a very polite girl, isn’t she ?? ❞ and ❝ she seems so mature for her age ❞ and ❝ i’m sure she’ll blossom into a fine young woman. ❞ she -- these people know she has a name, right ?? -- doesn’t understand what any of this means, or why it’s so important, or why her parents are so satisfied when the conversation is over.

she’s at the age where her imagination begins to run wild, where she dreams of leaping out her window and exploring the forest at night while the wind blows through her hair. not that she ever would, of course. her parents wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

she’s also been reading her story books lately, presents from when she was younger. they tell her tales of love and happily-ever-afters, and she decides she wants that for herself someday in a future that seems so distant from where she is now. she’s only a child, after all, and she likes to remain as logical as she can despite her active imagination. the chances of her having a whirlwind romance at such a young age are zero to none.

her belief is that everyone deserves a happy ending and that it’s attainable for everyone, but she’s noticed that one relationship in particular doesn’t quite match up to what her stories tell her.

❝ hey, daddy, ❞ she says one night when her father comes in to tuck her into bed, ❝ you and mummy are in love, like in the stories, right ?? and this is your happily ever after ?? ❞

her dad appears surprised at the question, and for a moment, he stares at the butterfly mural on her wall. she follows his gaze, seeing no issue with this. her wall is rather pretty, after all.

❝ i love your mother, of course i do, ❞ he says with a reassuring smile when he turns back to her. ❝ and of course this is our happily ever after, because you’re in it. ❞

he runs his hand through her hair before switching off her lamp and leaving the room. his answer is a comforting one, and it will be several years before she pieces together what’s wrong with it, what he didn’t say. but for now, she’s content.

this isn’t the first time illumia has imagined leaping out her window and flying into the night, but it’s the first time she’s genuinely considering it. she could resume her unfinished homework that lies forgotten on the desk, or better yet, ask her parents what in the world they were talking about when she passed the kitchen earlier, but the night sky is the subject of her focus tonight. or at least it should be. the conversation continues to run through her mind despite never being part of it.

❝ and what about fern’s son ?? he’s a few years older, but once they’re adults, that won’t matter. they’ll get along just fine. ❞

❝ i’m not sure, i’d rather she be with someone closer to her own age. she isn’t even a teenager yet. adoran’s boy might be more suitable. ❞

❝ perhaps, but his father isn’t offering as much as fern is. this is our daughter’s future on the line, you know. my father only accepted the best for me, and that was you. i want the same for her. ❞

illumia hadn’t stayed around to listen after that. she’d heard enough. now she’s crumpled against her window seat with her arms folded across the windowsill, breathing in the night air as she contemplates what her parents meant.

well, she actually already knows. she’s heard the stories of arranged marriages within the noble seelie ranks, and she’s sure one or two of the weddings she’s attended were for arranged couples. it never seemed like something to worry about, never something she might be subjected to some day, and yet here she is, wondering who her life is going to be tied down to for the rest of time the moment she becomes an adult.

as her father said, she isn’t even a teenager yet. she still has a few more years to go before then, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’ll never be ready. she wants to fall in love and choose the person she’ll ultimately marry herself. this shouldn’t be about money. her mother says she wants the best for her, and yet doesn’t even ask her opinion.

and then there is the revelation that her parents were also arranged. it may not change the fact that they are legally bound in marriage, but to illumia, it changes everything.

she narrows her eyes at the moon, but immediately feels bad, as the moon doesn’t deserve her wrath. she sighs and is about to look away when she sees something flickering -- zooming ?? flying ?? -- in the distance, a humanoid shape that she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from.

she learns what freedom is.

freedom is diving out your window in the dead of night to fly across the treetops. freedom is not caring if you dirty your nightgown and socks. it’s innocent first kisses and skipping stones across the river, dancing among the fireflies as they tangle themselves in your hair. it’s spending time with people she never would have met otherwise.

it’s these nights with her friends that make the routine of the day bearable. she’s aware of just how much her parents keep from her now, and she suspects that this is her way of retaliating. just because she’s young doesn’t mean she can’t have secrets of her own.

she can tell they’re pleased because her mood has been so much better lately, and there is a certain satisfaction to knowing how much they would hate the truth.

it’s only when she’s home from lucille for the winter holidays that she notices something that was right in front of her all along.

the annual winter ball is nothing new to her, nor is the way her parents stand with their backs straight, side-by-side but never touching. the closest they ever get to affection is linking arms when walking into the room. no, her parents’ lack of chemistry is something she’s been aware of for years now.

it’s the way her father’s eyes seem to follow one man, another noble that illumia has known for years. adoran is the father of one of her potential ❛ suitors ❜, and has therefore always been seen as the enemy -- one of many -- but something is different tonight. or perhaps everything is the same and she is only now noticing.

she recognises the expression on her father’s face. it’s one of longing, of watching something you can’t have, when there is some sort of barricade between you and what ( who ) you want and nothing you do can break it down. a look of helplessness as you find yourself unable to look away despite knowing better.

( she knows this look because she sees it in the mirror all the time. )

her parents have never been in love. she’s known this for a long time and learned to accept it long ago, but she never considered anything beyond that. she never considered that they might have been in love before. that they might still be in love.

she’s going to be a doctor.

it wasn’t some big revelation, nothing in particular that sparked her interest in medicine, but a series of small, almost inconsequential things. tending to the scrapes and wounds of the younger skull bois, researching potions for different ailments, never looking away when the family doctor was conducting his check-ups. it’s always been there in the back of her mind, but it’s her need to assist others that rises above them all.

all she wants to do is help people, so why is she crying ??

she’s standing on one of the highest bridges in lucille, one that connects two turrets together. it’s one of her favourite spots and a place rarely ever visited at night when most people are safe and sound inside the dorms. no one is here to hear her sobs.

that is, until she senses a presence behind her.

❝ are you mad at me, too ?? ❞ she asks.

❝ no, ❞ dusk says, and even without turning around, she can see him shaking his head. ❝ i can’t say i relate, but i’m not mad. to be honest, i couldn’t see you doing anything else. ❞

she manages a brief smile at that. ❝ thanks. ❞

❝ no problem. ❞ he walks forward so he’s standing next to her. ❝ can i ask, though -- why a doctor ?? ❞

at first she shrugs, but after a moment of silence, she answers, ❝ because i think i can make a difference. and because i’m interested in it, of course. making people feel better is something i always want to do. ❞

❝ illumia farryn, always thinking of other people, ❞ dusk says with a grin, but she shakes her head.

❝ i like helping people, but i’m not doing this for anyone else. i’m doing this for me. i knew... i knew what would happen if i stayed here, but... i know it’s the best option for me. i feel like a lot of the decisions i’ve made have been for other people, but... i don’t think i can do that anymore. ❞

she faces forward as she says it, but she can see dusk looking at her from the corner of her eye. he appears thoughtful, and he soon follows her gaze, though she can’t say she’s looking at anything in particular.

❝ as someone who makes decisions for himself and only himself, ❞ illumia scoffs, because that isn’t entirely true, but dusk continues as if he hasn’t heard her, ❝ i can say that making a decision based on what you want alone is a good one. especially one as productive as choosing to be a doctor. ❞

❝ thanks, dusky, ❞ she says, teasing him with the name vista has for him, then says more seriously, ❝ i appreciate it. ❞

over the years, her definition of ❛ freedom ❜ has changed. it used to be about disobeying her parents and running off in the middle of the night, dirtying her clothes and feigning innocence if her mother caught the stains in the morning. now it’s so much more than that. something more powerful.

freedom isn’t necessarily about breaking the rules ( though sometimes they are ). it’s about establishing your own rules and making your own decisions, of choosing your own path in life despite condescension from those around you. it’s having faith in your own decisions and learning to live without regrets.

she still has a long way to go, she thinks, but she’s getting there.

#「♔」illumia farryn #「♔」illumia farryn | isms #「♔」illumia farryn | para #「♔」para #「♔」worldbuilding #i'm just gonna tag all of these as worldbuilding now idk

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panda-noosh · 7 years ago

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Hey! I was wondering if I could request scenarios where the Paladins meet the reader's siblings and help babysit them? If you need inspiration for the siblings, maybe my little sisters. Youngest (7 years old) is shy at first, then sassy, stubborn, smart, and talkative. The other (10) is deaf, quiet, creative, bubbly and sweet. And my bro (he's 13) protective, stoic, sarcastic and quiet. If you need more to go on, message me! Thank you! You're a blessing to the fandom ❤️

I hope you enjoythese! Thank you for the compliment, my love x

Shiro:

“They'renot that bad.”

“Inever said they were.”

“Youlook horrified, Shiro. You haven't even gotten in the front dooryet.” Shiro sends you a sideways glance, one that is a mixbetween a warning and a 'please help me.' You can't help but chuckleat it – he hadn't stopped being nervous from the moment you twoleft your own home. Not only was this the first time he was meetingyour younger siblings, but he was being forced to look after them, aswell.

Itwasn't as if he had disagreed with it. He had kindly said 'of courseI'll help you!' upon the initial request, but there was only so muchconfidence a man could fake at the one time.

Assoon as the two of you were stood outside of your old childhood home,the sound of giggling and your parents telling the younger kids tobehave sounding through the door, Shiro's hand shoots out to grabyours in a desperate plea for you to just staybeside him.

Youhadn't planned to do otherwise, knowing full well how Shiro acts inpublic situations with people he has to impress, but the gesturestill shocks you. You squeeze his fingers gently, before the door isopening and your mothers face is showing through the crack in thedoor, a smile on her lips as if she had no aged a day.

“Finally!”she exclaims, opening the door fully to reveal the three youngerchildren behind her. They had quietened down, becoming slightly shyat the sight of the bulky man on their doorstep. You give them warmsmiles as your mother pulls both you and Shiro into a hug, exclaimingher praises.

Youfollow her into the home, allowing her to tell you all about the newplan and the set-up and bed times and school work – all of which,you know will go out the window as soon as they leave. You and yoursiblings were like best friends – they never took you seriouslywhen you were babysitting them, because all you did was joke around.

Yourmother and father leave the house shortly afterwards, and havocensues. For the first hour or so, you and Shiro genuinely try to bereasonable adults towards the younger ones. Attempting to sit themdown to do their homework, or cooking them little meals and makingsure they drank enough water.

Butit wasn't long before that layer of shyness was picked away,revealing an all-too familiar giddy side that you had seen amongstthem for years.

Inminutes, Shiro was being pinned to the floor by three giddy kids whoinsisted on singing the alphabet all too loudly in your boyfriendear. Shiro groans, wiggling under their grip and begging for you todo something butyou can't do anything but laugh in the corner at how much of a turnthe night took.

“Alright,alright!” Shiro exclaims. “Time to go to bed, or something. Idon't know! Just – get off of me!”

“Youtook the remote, Shiro,” you say from the doorway. Your brothergrins at your words, knowing he now has an even bigger excuse to keepShiro pinned down.

Theoriginal excuse had been the fact that he had risked kissing you infront of them all. That had no panned out nicely, an array of 'ew'sand 'get a room!'s' being passed around before Shiro was eventuallypinned to the living room floor.

“I'mthe big kid,” Shiro argues, sending you a look of annoyance foradding fuel to an already massive fire. “I'm allowed the remote.”

“Andthis is my house,” your brother comments. “So surely we shouldget first say?”

“That'snot how society works. You need to be doing your homework.”

“I'vegot all day to do my homework. The Simpsons finishes at half 4.” “He's got a point,” you chirp in, again. Shiro groans,throwing his head back and finally going limp against the carpet.Your sisters giggle as your brother hops off of him, wiping his handsdown his school slacks with a proud smile on his face – victory forhim, again.

Shiroputs The Simpsonson himself, a true sign of weakness for the Paladin. It makes youchuckle as he walks towards you in the living room doorway, the threekids finally settled down behind him as he wraps an arm around yourwaist and digs his face into the crook of your neck – a form ofcomfort for him.

“Youdidn't tell me I'd be this exhausted so early on,” he mumblesagainst your skin. You giggle, wrapping your own arm around hisshoulders and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You'vejust got to be nice. They love you.”

Keith:

Uponinitial arrival, you had low hopes.

Itsounds cruel, you know, but Keith wasn't one for social interaction.He could barely go a minute without sending out some sarcastic,offensive remark towards somebodyinthe room, so whenever he offered to babysit your little siblings withyou, you weren't entirely sure what to say.

Therewas always the chance he could be good with kids. You had barely seenhim around children before, so the discovery of a nice and soft Keithcould be made, but from what you hadseenof him around people, he wasn't much of a pleaser of people.

Sochildren were a long shot.

Nonetheless,you said okay. It was the least you could do – he was planning ondropping you off and picking you up anyway. There really was no pointin you leaving.

Yourhopes were low, and your anxiety was high, but Keith barely seemed tocare. He surprisingly walked right up to the front door, knockedpolitely, greeted your mother with a kiss to the cheek before sendingher off with a grin on his face that never once faltered as she leftthe house.

Threechildren to take care of, all of whom were on a sugar high from thesweets your mother had given them in an attempt to keep them quietfor at least a few moments.

AndKeith handled it perfectly.

Youbarely had to step in once as he sat down on the living room floor,your seven year old sister at his elbow with a colouring book in herlap. Keith sat beside her, legs folded as he passed her the crayonsshe asked for like a nurse handing a doctor his tools.

“Green,”your sister would say, and immediately a green crayon would be placedin her small hand.

“It'slooking good,” Keith comments every now and then, looking over yourlittle sisters shoulder as the colouring book. She had always beengood at being creative – the colouring genuinely was good. An arrayof pastel colours that made the Mandala page pop to an impressiveamount. “You need to draw me sometime and then colour me in withthat red colour.” “Even your skin?” your sister giggles.

Keithgrimaces as if the words had affected him. “Do I look ill? Am Iflustered?”

Yoursister nods teasingly, giggling at her own actions. You watch on asKeith gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart like a clawreaching into his chest.

“You'vewounded me,” he says, dramatically. “Perhaps to make up for it,you should let me colour in a little bit?”

Yoursister nods her head almost immediately, passing the colouring bookto Keith and letting him choose his own drawing. He eventually comesacross a solar system picture and gets to work on colouring it, yoursister passing him the colours just like he had done for her.

Theywere like two best friends, and you couldn't help the stupid grinwhich erupts on your face at the sight of them.

Lance:

“Lance!”

Yourbrother greets you and your boyfriend at the door before the handlehas even been turned – because Lance is here, and that means goodthings. That means a day of fun, and pranks being pulled on no othervictim than you.

Youhadn't initially agreed to bringing Lance for that reasonspecifically. After last times bad experience with the prank war hehad secretly organised with your teenage brother, you didn't see itas much of a good idea to let him back in. The two caused troublewhen they were together – quiet stealths.

Butyour mother had insisted that Lance be your right-hand-man tonight.Your brother had apparently done nothing but ask about Lance from themoment he had left the house the last time to now. It was aheartwarming thought, until you were forced to suffer through thesame things as last time all over again.

Itstarts off simple. You stand in the kitchen, cooking dinner for thetwo of them as Lance entertains the teenage boy. It doesn't takemuch. A few maths questions giving extra time for Overwatch game play– a deal of many. You can hear them plotting in the living roomthrough an array of pencil scratches and lazor shooting noises, butchoose to ignore them for now. You had put enough trust in Lance tobe mature that you didn't feel the need to be paranoid -

Notuntil there was flour drenching your clothing and you were yellingfor your brother to “Get back here now! I'm telling mum!”

Youhad grabbed your brother and pulled him into a death grip hug,smothering his clothing in flour. Lance had screamed dramatically,attempting to pry your younger brother from your hands, and beforelong, the two of them had gotten away and had hidden upstairs.

“Don'tdie on me, damn it!” you had heard Lance yell as your brotherpretends that the flour is his own blood. “She will pay for this!”

Thenext prank comes not ten minutes later. You walk back into thekitchen, only for Lance and your brother to jump out from behind thedoor and startle you, your brother up on Lance's shoulder fordramatic effect.

Youscream and kick Lance in the leg, watching as he grips your brotherthat little bit tighter to avoid him falling.

“Lance!Y/B/N!” you exclaim, gripping your chest. “So help me god, if youdo anything else-”

“Don'tthreaten him!” your brother exclaims, causing Lance to burst outlaughing. You pout, folding your arms over your chest – you lovedseeing them get along, but bonding over your misery wasn't somethingyou particularly liked.

Lancesighs upon seeing your pouting face and quickly sets your brotheronto the floor, pulling you into a sideways hug. It isn't long beforeyour brother is clinging to your waist, joining in on the embrace.

“Welove you,” Lance whispers against your hair. “This is just ourway of-”

Hedoesn't get to finish his sentence before you've sent flour into theair, it latching onto both of their faces in seconds.

Hunk:

Hunkwas lucky your younger sister liked to cook.

Thatwas what he had told you. That your little sister liking to cook washis saving grace amongst your family, because that was all he likedto do. Cook. Bake. Make food.

Soto walk into your household and be told that your ten year old sister– the shy, quiet and sweet girl you had looked after so many times– actually liked to make her own stuff as well, was like a breathof fresh air.

Henever failed to make you smile with the way them two were together.It was adorable – a mix of admiration and confusion. Your ten yearold sister wasn't one for talking. She was quiet, locked inside ofher own head a lot of the time, just like you were. So to see hergiggling and laughing along to Hunk's playful jokes was a rare andweird sight.

Butyou wouldn't trade it for the world. Not even as you walked into thekitchen on one summer afternoon to see Hunk and your sister dabbingpieces of frosting on each others faces as if the dessert topping wasmake up.

“Y/N,look!” you sister exclaims upon seeing you standing by the door.“We got icing.”

Younarrow your eyes, stepping into the kitchen fully. “I can see that.May I ask why?”

“Wewere baking,” Hunk replies, adding another dab of icing onto yoursisters cheek and watching her as she crinkles her nose up cutely atthe sensation of it dripping from the skin. “We're bored waiting onthe cupcakes to cook, so here we are. Do you not think she looks likeElsa from Frozen?”

“Iprefer Anna,” your sister insists. “Can we put cinnamon in myhair to colour it? Then you can be Elsa!” Hunk's eyes widenplayfully as he turns to you. “Can we?”

Allyou can do is smile in reply, because you know that no matter whatyou say, they'll do it anyway. And a part of you doesn't entirelymind.

Pidge:

“I'mjust telling you that it's scientifically impossible for the eventsof this game to actually unfold in real life. That's why I'm notplaying it with you.”

Yourbrother narrows his eyes, folding his arms over his chest as Pidge'sreply for her to play World of Warcraft with him in real life. “Whatif wizards are real somewhere and we just don't know about it?”

Pidgebarely glances at him as she replies. “I find that very unlikely,since the level of technology in this age would make it close toimpossible for such beings to hide from us.”

“Butwhat about the level of magic? We don't know how well they can hide.”

Pidgeshrugs, still looking up at the roof. “Well, why don't you go lookfor wizards, then? Playing an online game of them won't make themcome out of hiding.”

Yourbrother turns to you, a look of confusion dazzling his features. Yousimply roll your eyes, telling him that this was what your girlfriendwas like on a daily basis – always had to have an answer foreverything, a reason behind everything. It was almost impossible toargue with her, because everything she said was so well thought out.It was as if she had planned the argument beforehand.

Yourbrother sighs and turns back to Pidge, taking a seat against the sofaand letting his back rest against her legs. “You're no fun, Pidge.”

“I'mgreat fun. I'm giving you advice on how to look for wizards.”

“Afteryou told me they weren't real.”

“AfterI broke the cold truth to you, buddy.”

“Whatif you just play the online version with me? You can use mum's laptopand we'll make you an account!”

Youhave to bite back your laugh at the thought. Pidge's face screws intoexactly what you thought it would – slight disgust.

“Youwouldn't catch me dead playing an online game,” Pidge insists. “Iprefer to look into things outside of the internet. Maybe I couldteach you how laptops work from the inside instead of-”

“Wedid that last week.”

Pidgescrews her eyes shut, sighing. “Right. I forgot.”

“Ididn't. I'm the one that got in trouble for my laptop being rippedopen.”

“Itwas for educational purposes.”

Yourbrother shakes his head. “It always is with you, Pidge.”

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dawncleyne-blog · 8 years ago

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Magical Love

Sorry For Wait Enjoy!!!

Request: Yukiya hears news that his friends, and boyfriend will be visiting Gendonelune for the weekend. Excited to see Draco again. Yukiya tries to plan a date to fit his standards, but stresses himself out over it, when girls throw themselves all over Draco. But Draco helps him realize he’s got nothing to worry about, by taking him to a hotel, and giving him pleasure he’s never felt before.

WARNING: NSFW all characters are are legal age, depictions of sex. If you don’t like this, don’t read.

The bright morning sun shown through the large window next to Yukiya’s regular spot, located in Randolph's classroom, on the top row. Looking around the room for a moment he pulled out his books and quills, preparing for the next class. And from the inside of his notebook slipped out a letter that read. “To Yukiya Reizen, from Draco Malfoy” Yukiya couldn’t stop the grin that graced his lips. Unbeknownst to everyone, with the exception of Elias, Yukiya was in a relationship with another wizard from another school on the other side of the world. Draco Malfoy, a “pureblood” as they were called when everyone in their family was a wizard. But for some reason, Draco hadn’t minded the fact Yukiya wasn’t a “Pureblood”. When Yukiya had gone on a field trip over to Hogwarts for a few months, because he’d received a acceptance letter. The first person he met on the train was Draco Malfoy. Being the nice person that he is Yukiya had sat with him. At first Draco was a total twat to Yukiya, but eventually having gotten used to Yukiya’s personality he’s stopped acting like one and became decent friends with Yukiya. Sure it took a rather long time before Draco actually asked Yukiya out, about a year or so. The student all took their seats as Randolph entered the classroom, holding an envelope with a familiar school crest, that captured Yukiya’s full attention.

Making his way to the center of the classroom, Randolph raised the letter allowing the crest to be visible to the rest of the students. He opened his mouth, it graced with his usual playful smile. “Today we are assigning jobs for the field day in the town. We will be having a few visitors from Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry. Another famous wizarding school.” A few groans game from some student’s hearing the word assignments. Chuckling he continued. “Now, I have a meeting to attend to this weekend so Schuyler will be taking over for me, with the help of Prefect Klaus. You are all welcome to hangout with them and show them around. Now I must inform you that Klaus has personally asked that Elias, and Yukiya help with showing around a few of the students when they arrive. Do you both find that to be agreeable.” directing his question at Yukiya and Elias to the left of him. Look at each other they seemed to think for a moment, speaking up Elias was the first to respond. “Sure, I’ll help” having said his piece Yukiya nodded in reply. Grinning Randolph opened the letter and presumed to read the contents.

Having lost interest Yukiya turned to look out the window yet again realizing just how badly he missed his boyfriend. They would talk in letter as frequently as they could. But it wasn’t the same as being with him. Yukiya couldn’t help quietly chuckling at himself he’d never been one for lovey dovey relationships, but this was different because Draco wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else in the academy. He perked up hearing Headmaster say. “ Now the following students that will be coming to Gendonelune for field day are as followed, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and last but not least Draco Malfoy.” the depth of Randolph's voice changed and became deeper. “I expect everyone of you to treat our guests kindly and furthermore with respect. Two of the students attending are both quidditch players. And both are more than happy to demonstrate a game. If you have questions about the type of person they are. I suggest you speak with Yukiya, after all, he did attend their school for at least 3 months.” Sending a confident wink to Yukiya, along with a devilish grin he excused classes for the day. Packing up his things, accompanied by his wolf, he left the classroom and made his way to the boys dorm. Under the amber glowing sky, as the sun set behind the mountains, Yukiya walked the cobblestone path up to the dorm. Enjoying the feel of the rocks crunching under his boots, as he remembered back to his first day at Hogwarts, and his date with Draco. Ignoring all those around him he placed his things on his bed and headed for a shower.

Stars speckled the sky outside the dorms as the moon took is place in the sky while the sun rested. The hot water ran down his body, sliding from the top of his jaw down to his pelvic bone and beyond. Humming as the heated water relaxed his tense muscles, and warmed him. The water dripped from Yukiya’s dark blue, hair as he pulled on a pair of Pajama pants with the Slytherin crest all over them. He’d taken them from Draco the day he was leaving, cause he wanted something to remind him of Draco. Not bothering to dry his hair, leaving the showers shirtless, and with wet hair all he could think about was sleeping. Seeing as the visitors would be here tomorrow. Yukiya crawled in bed quietly as not to disturb Elias who’d gone to bed earlier. Before closing his eyes, He pulled out a framed picture of him in Draco’s arms on their first date. It was the first time he’d ever seen Draco genuinely happy. Placing it on his dresser, he closed his eyes remembering the feel of being hugged my Draco.

Time skip: Brought to you by Wolfy

Early that morning Yukiya started getting ready for field day and opted for a cotton midnight blue jacket with dark tan trim and collar. Dusky peach shirt and black jeans fitted to his figure, not forgetting his eyepatch. With Elias in toe, he headed from their room to the kitchen grabbing a quick breakfast. Wanting to get to the train station early, so he could see them again. True while at Hogwarts Yukiya had been sorted into Slytherin but he didn’t mind considering he was able to make friends with anyone. Standing at the train station student’s chatted away excitedly. Eager to meet the visitors, not going unnoticed to Elias, Yukiya began to shift his weight from one foot to the next. Running his hands through his hair, and rubbing his forehead. Being the only one knowing about Yukiya's relationship and the fact that they were a half hour early... Elias knew it was time to delve into whatever was bothering Yukiya. Pulling him aside, even if Elias wasn’t big on romance, he knew if he didn’t get him to open up he’d run himself into the ground. Staring into Yukiya’s eyes Elias spoke. “No ifs, ands, or buts, Talk now before I use a truth spell on you.” Sighing with a nod Yukiya started to speak. “I’m worried about seeing him again, and if he still loves me, worried that if I take him out it won’t be to his standards. He’ll break up with me. ” speaking quickly beginning to lose his breath. He was cut off my Elias. “Relax would you, he loves you and you love him. It’s fine, you have no reason to freak out.” Nodding staring of into the distance, he quietly waited for the train to arrive.

Before they knew it the sun had set and the moon had taken its place in the sky. As Yukiya looked into his lovers eyes Draco’s right hand held both above his head, while the other reached around Yukiya’s neck, untying the eye patch covering the contract seal on his left eye, leaving it revealed to the full moon. Out of fear and instinct Yukiya shut his eyes, releasing Yukiya’s hands Draco stroked his lover's waist. Helping him remember that Draco now has full control of his transformation, dropping the eye patch to the ground. Feeling the blonde release his lips Yukiya smiled up at him, huskily whispering. “I love you too Draco, come with me my love. I know where a hotel is in town we can spend the night together” With his usual smile and lust filled eyes, fingers twined with Yukiya’s, He followed his desperate boy friend towards the hotel.

Still faced in the direction the train would come from, Yukiya leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. Taking in his surroundings without using his sight, he’d been there for the past half hour eager for them to arrive. A loud familiar whistle invaded Yukiya’s ears. He’d never mistake the Hogwarts Express for any other train, with a smile he headed towards the loading platform as the train pulled into the bustling station. The red door, on the side of the train, adjacent to where Yukiya sood opened revealing a matured Harry Ron Hermione, and most of all the man Yukiya’s been dying to see for weeks. Maintaining his calm composure, he smiled as they exited the train. Before Yukiya could speak he was tackled in a hug, forcing him to fall onto the cold pavement.

Spontaneous laughs came from their lips as they crushed Yukiya in a bear hug so tight, it was as if Fluffy was hugging him. Joining in their laugh Yukiya hugged them back. After a while of just sitting there hugging, receiving weird looks from passerbys. The hugs released Yukiya, as they dusted off their legs, and stood to their feet. Draco watched with a sneer in the back of the commotion as his boyfriend disappeared under the bodies of his school mates. The nerve of them taking the first hug from Yukiya away from him.. After what seemed like a damned eternity everyone was finally removing themselves off Yukiya, and back on their feet, he shoved past the three and shot his hand persistently in front of his beau,offering to help him up. Keeping the serious look on his face, he takes the chance to lean in close and whisper with haste that he truly missed him and is happy to be there. Pulling away he flashed a very welcoming and loving smile before returning to his natural bitch face. Yukiya shuddered from the sensation of Draco’s soft breath against his ear as a smile creeped across his face, forcing the doubt out of his mind in the current moment. Unable to control his urges Yukiya assaulted Draco in a tight embrace, whispering in return that he too, missed him more than words could express before stepping back and grinning like a sweet dork. A cough sounded behind Yukiya, coming from none other than Elias giving Yukiya a look saying he wished to be introduced. Wishing he could just spend time with Draco rather than Elias watching him like a hawk, Blush slowly covered his cheeks. Pointing to each once he introduced them, explain how he knew them and what house they were put in and why. Then it came to Draco, feeling his loves fingers discreetly trace their way around his hip. His blushing intensified before speaking, “This is Draco Malfoy, he’s in house Slytherin, same as me. We were roommates at hogwarts, and he’s my boyfriend. Out of obligation Draco was placed into that house. Since his whole family has been Slytherins.” Seeming somewhat satisfied with Yukiya’s answer Elias dropped the subject before cutting in. “So, Draco comes from a distinguished family like my own, Hah, something in common already” he joked sheepishly. Before Elias could continue he felt Yukiya’s eyes boring into his face. “ Ahem “ clearing his throat Elias changes the subject quickly “ is anyone hungry? “ he muses to the group. Yukyia grabs Elias and yanks him closer, “ Elias could you possibly take care of getting Harry, Ron and Hermione so I can spend some time with Draco before curfew?” Nodding Elias motioned for the trio to follow him towards klaus. Yukiya sighs in relief, as he takes Draco by the hand and heads in the opposite direction Elias was leading the others in.

Were finally alone, but I don’t even know where to take him. What if it’s not good enough and we break up over this. I’ll try a bake shop first. Peeking at him I ask

“Draco did you have anything to eat on the train?, If not I know of a great bake shop in town that has everything.” nervously looking at him from the side

Draco cocks his head to the side as he turns his face to Yukiya, a smile curls on his lips “ I could eat… if you promise to feed me “ he teases just to see his boyfriend's embarrassed face. Instantly his cheeks flared again and he tried to pull his hand away from Draco's. Yukyia gasped to himself as he felt Draco tight his grip on his fingers, his attempt to flee failed. Trying to gain his composure. He began. “Malfoy if there’s anything specific you want. We can change where we go” regretting his words. He knew that draco was all aware that Yukiya only called him Malfoy when he was nervous

“Haha, Yukiya you still are the same bashful boy I met back at Hogwarts. I love seeing you squirm from bashfulness “ he continue teasing him as he squeezes his hand. The smile on Draco’s face matches the warm feeling in his fingers as they clutch lovingly to Yukiya’s.

After about 30 minutes of walking, Yukiya pauses and pulls Draco back to his side in front of the famous bake shop in town. “Here it is” he mutters just loud enough for Draco to hear. Looking away shyly he continues, “If it's not to your standards we can go elsewhere” feeling that he failed to meet Draco’s standards he avoided eye contact “ Splendid! messing with you made me hungry. “ Draco admitted as he tug on Yukiya, pulling him inside the building. “Let us sit by the window at that table for two “ he exclaims happily, dragging his blushing boyfriend behind him. Smiling he willingly followed. As he was about to order for them both, Yukiya noticed the giggles and shrills of some of girls in the shop, they were growing louder and closer to their table. Yukiya turns to face the girls and his eyes draw a line for their teary eyed faces back to his beautiful blonde beau. Just as a sigh escapes his lips, the girls circle around the table, and mostly Draco’s chair giggling and squealing like pigeons being fed in the park. Feeling Singled out Yukiya said. “If you want we can meet up later” Looking down he contemplated leaving. “ I am completely used to this “ Draco sighed, reaching across the table to take Yukyia’s hand again. “ I have learned to ignore the sounds of boring people trying to use or persuade my favor. “ He gives Yukyia a small smirk. Rising from his seat he once again pulls Yukyia out of his chair and takes of running out of the shop, with a herd of girls following behind them. Panting Yukiya gasps. “Draco that's an alley what are we heading there for?” Draco dips into the opening next to a random building yanking his boyfriend to his chest, holding him tightly. As they catch their breaths, the girls run past shrieking and giggling loudly. Draco covers Yukiya’s mouth quickly and leans them both as far back into the shadows as they can fit. As the last few girls make their way past the alley, both of them sigh in relief. “ The hordes here are worse than my country “ Draco laughs quickly, as he tightens his arms around Yukiya. “ We are alone now for the moment “ He whispers into the blushing boy’s ear. Flipping around quickly Draco pressed Yukiya between his chest and brick wall, rubbing his knee between Yukiya’s legs. Causing the blue haired boy to throw his head back against the wall and release a desperate moan. A love filled smile appeared on Draco’s lips as he continued to grind his knee against Yukiya’s clothed member, and pull his boyfriend's face to his in a deep yearning and lustful kiss. As Yukiya’s hands came down to encase Draco's waist. His fellow Slytherin pinned his hands to the wall with their fingers laced together.

Making their way to the room, Draco opened the door captured Yukiya’s lips as he locked it and immediately pushed Yukiya to the bed. Pealing the clothes from his lover’s body, still fully clothed with messy hair, gently gripped his lover's hardened member and gently jerked the shaft. A muffled moan of surprise left Yukiya’s lips vibrating into Draco’s. “Ahh!” Pulling his mouth away from the blonde's, throwing his head back against the bed gasping “Draco-” while bucking his hips into the Slytherins hand, desperate for more friction. “Relax love, I’ll pleasure you soon enough” with a raspy voice Yukiya begged more. “Draco, It’s not fair I’m the only one clothed.” Tugging at the green robed he managed to get it off his shoulder’s and the buttons of the white shirt undone. Smirking at the blue haired boy, he did as asked and removed the unwanted clothing from his body. Things instantly began to heat up between the two, after years of separation, lust was inevitable.

The only thing on Yukiya’s mind was the affection his lover was showing him. He was more than willing to deal with the brunt the prefect would give him for missing curfew. Fully content with the situation he was in. Fell into a pleasure filled night in the arms and legs of his platinum haired boyfriend. The fire’s glow resonating from the hearth lit up the dark room. Turned onto his stomach Yukiya rested beneath his dominant lover, lips and pearl white teeth kissed and nipped at the skin of his neck. Ever so gently having prepped Yukiya’s body, Draco entered Yukiya, Starting out slow then gradually quickening his pace. “A-ahh” Gasped moans left Yukiya’s lips feeling the movements of his lover. Glazed sweet glided against both bodies as the brushed together, gripping Yukiya’s hips Draco released inside. Pulling out, cleaning them up. Draco pulled Yukiya into his arms, kissed Yukiya one last time before his lover's head rested under his chin with his eyes closed. And slept the night away in the heat of their love.

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