#smith I’m so sorry I wasn’t familiar with your game

[toffoliravioli]

Brendan Smith: certified elite forward

yes. yes. yes. yes…..did I say yes? cuz yes

article cred: james nichols

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Writing’s On The Wall (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We’ve finally reached... Civil War! Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Writing’s On The Wall”. Some of the actual dialogue from the film is used here with some adjustments. Let me know what you think.

Summary: How the reader and Wanda are involved in the events of Civil War. Will they be on the same side? Or will they have to fight each other?

“I want to feel love, run through my blood, tell me is this where I give it all up? For you I have to risk it all, 'cause the writing's on the wall”

Half a year had passed since you left the comfort of the Avengers tower and the path to healing had never felt more manageable. You should have known that wouldn’t last. Peace never seemed to last around you. 

You didn’t know what to expect when Fury called you out of the blue and told you to turn on the news, but it was certainly not what you saw. A quiet curse escaped your lips as you watched the news of what happened in Lagos play out before you.

For at least an hour you listened to them completely annihilate Wanda’s character and talk about her like she was a monster who couldn’t be controlled. A threat. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She made a mistake – she was trying to help. You could only imagine how she was feeling.

The news continued to pile on the next couple of days which is when you caught wind of the Sokovian accords. The information being relayed to you in the form of a demand from one Tony Stark who said you needed to sign since you were technically still an Avenger. You told him you would need time to think about it because the fact of the matter was, you didn’t agree with it. Not that you actually told him the second part. 

Shortly after your phone call with Stark, Steve also reached out. Though he was reluctant to have to ask you for help when he knew what he would be dragging you back into. You agreed within seconds. Not only was it what was right, but Steve was your first lifeline. You’d always offer him help. You’d always stand by him. You had made a promise. That’s just who you were.

Due to some loose ends, you were the last to arrive at the parking garage Steve had designated as the meeting location. 

The sight of Wanda before you after all this time shocked you and rendered you immobile for a moment. 

As if she could sense your presence, she looked over and made eye contact with you, her eyes widening ever so slightly. You shook your head, you had healed – moved on. She wasn’t your focus anymore. The look in her eyes stuck with you though, it was something you had never seen before. You could feel her eyes follow you. Even after all this time, it slightly hurt you still.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt breathless at the sight of you. The one she thought she’d never get to see again. She could feel her heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure everyone in the area could hear it. It took everything in her not to run over to you, take you in her arms and never let go. Even after all this time, she missed you still. 

“Cap, what have you gotten yourself into now?” you questioned playfully, smiling brightly when Steve turned to look at you.

Despite the circumstance, Steve was genuinely glad to see you, to physically see how much better you looked after your time away rather than just hear it in a phone call. “Y/n. I hate how this is how we’re being reunited but it’s good to see you.” He pulled you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned. 

For the first time in her life, Wanda envied Steve Rogers. 

When he released you, Steve turned and addressed everyone else. “Alright everyone, go and get ready. Time is of the essence… And I can’t imagine they’re going to let us go easily.”

Before you could walk away, Steve threw a duffle bag at you with a wink before he walked off to put on his suit. You looked into the bag and noticed a sleek black outfit with blue and white accents. New gear, you thought to yourself, nice.

“Hi, Y/n.” you heard an all too familiar voice say softly from behind you. 

With only slight hesitation, you turned. “Hello, Wanda.” You greeted neutrally, proud of yourself for not feeling as broken as you once did at the mere sight of her. 

Wanda smiled slightly at you, her nerves at an all-time high from being this close to you once again. “I’m surprised to see you here. You look… good.” She said shyly. 

An amused smile spread over your lips. “Thanks. I thought I told you I’d always be on your side.” You said with a wink. The referenced conversation felt as though it had happened in another life. 

A pink hue covered her cheeks which you took note of curiously. “I’m actually glad you are.” She admitted honestly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months and it’s made me realize that I-“

“I’m genuinely sorry to do this, ladies, but we’ve really got to go.” Steve interrupted. Looking apologetically at Wanda who appeared disheartened.

You waved your hand dismissively. Allowing yourself to get invested in even just a conversation with Wanda wasn’t something you’d allow yourself. “Not an issue at all, Cap.” You replied lightly, pretending you didn’t see the way Wanda’s looked down dejectedly. In that moment you wished you didn’t know her so well.

Once you were all gathered, Steve separated you all into teams that would be spread throughout the airport, Clint and Wanda would be together, Sam would stay with Bucky and you would be with Steve. Scott would be waiting in hiding for when the perfect opportunity presented itself. Without knowing all the variables, it was difficult to form a perfect plan, but you all worked with what you had. Once that was settled, it was time to get into position. 

“Y/n.” Wanda took hold of your hand as you were turning to leave. “Do you think we could finish that conversation later, whenever that may be?” She asked hopefully. You took note of how she was holding her breath.

“Sure, Wanda.” You eventually replied, watching the way she breathed out graciously. “I’ve got to get into position now though, Steve is already out there.” 

Wanda lightly squeezed the hand that you hadn’t realized she was still holding. Awkwardly, you pulled it away. A short look of disappointed flashed across her features. “Be careful out there, okay?”

“You too.” You replied neutrally, this conversation was veering into dangerous territory. With one final nod you took off in a sprint to get into position, not seeing the way Wanda stayed behind for a moment. 

Even just the minor action made her aware of the fact that you’d changed, you used to always look back. She looked at your retreating figure with worried eyes until it disappeared from sight.

Almost as soon as you got into position, you could hear Sam begin calling you over the coms. “Y/n, go out to Steve, give them some numbers. Remember your points and the mission.”

“Haven’t been out of the game that long, Wilson.” You replied with an eye roll before heading out to where Steve was trapped.

The end of Tony’s speech caught your attention. “… in Clint, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave, a safe place-“ His words halted as you came to a stop by Steve’s side.

For a moment Tony just looked between you and Steve, obviously surprised to see you there. “And you brought the kid back into the chaos for this? To make her a criminal? Real nice, Rogers.” Tony quipped angrily.

Steve opened his mouth to respond when you beat him to it. “I can speak for myself, thanks. Hi Tony, good to see you again.” You matched his sarcasm with a mocking wave of your fingers. “If it means I can fight for what’s right then I’ll gladly join the fray again.”

“You heard her.” Steve replied with a small chuckle. 

Wanda couldn’t help but watch you with a small smile of admiration from her position. She truly missed being able to see this version of you. Always determined to do what was right. Clint shook his head in amusement at her but didn’t say anything.

From your place you could see Tony’s frustration grow as he addressed Steve again. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You did that when you signed.” Steve replied coolly.

Tony looked away before looking back at Steve, his anger more present. “Alright, we’re done. You’re going to turn Barnes over and you’re going to come with us. Now. Because it’s us.” He paused slightly. “C’mon…” he added, and you almost felt bad for Tony.

Over your coms you could hear Sam let you both know that he had found the quinjet. That’s when chaos ensued. Your focus was keeping Rhodey back from Steve when you saw Tony begin shooting at Wanda and Clint, with a flick of your wrist Rhodey sunk into the floor, completely encased in the concrete that was once flat underneath his feet. 

The sound of his suit slowly chipping away at the defense let you know that it wasn’t too damaging as you began running towards Tony, using your powers to propel you forward. That was until a truck got thrown right in your path and exploded mere inches from you. You ducked and rolled, jumping back up. “C’mon.” you mumbled to yourself. Noticing the red wisps that surrounded you during the explosion.

You made eye contact with Wanda, who’s eyes were worried as she lowered her hands, the red wisps that were lingering around you fading. You nodded in thanks, Wanda just quirked her lips up and nodded back.

“Sorry!” Scott said sheepishly to you over coms. 

You refocused and noticed the path to the quinjet clear for you all, each of you sprinting in its direction. 

The quinjet was quickly approaching as each of you sped up even more until a beam of light cut into the ground before you, effectively stopping you all in your tracks. 

“For the collective good, you must surrender now.” Vision said, his eyes on Wanda whose expression never changed. Each member of Tony’s team formed a defensive line in front of the jet. 

Both sides were in a stand-off, and it was obvious neither was willing to back down. “What do we do, Cap?” you questioned. 

“We fight.” Steve said without a moment of hesitation, determination clear in his eyes as he began running forward. Everyone else followed suit, both teams clashing in the middle.

The scene was so frenzied, and your focus was on fighting Tony with your powers that it wasn’t until Sam spoke over coms that you focused in again. You easily agreed with the plan that not all of you could make it out. It had to be Steve and Bucky. 

The sound of Wanda’s scream distracted you, thankfully Scott had also distracted Tony just in time. 

“Wanda!” You shouted on reflex already beginning to run over when you saw her fall to the floor, clutching her head. You were able to catch the building that was falling on Steve and Bucky with your powers for a moment before allowing it to crash down behind them. 

When you turned your attention back to Wanda, you noticed Vision come to a stop beside her and take her in his arms. The conversation between them looked intimate. She looked up from her place in his arms for a moment and met your eyes. Her eyes looked as though they were trying to convey something to you when they had suddenly gone wide as you felt a strong force make contact with your head then everything went black. 

When you finally came to your head felt groggy and achy, the way it did when Hydra used to run experiments on you. You tried to lift a hand to rub at your head when you noticed resistance and something cool around your neck. Out of confusion, your eyes shot open only to feel anxiety seep into your bones when you took note of the straight jacket that you were confined in and the collar locked uncomfortably around your neck.

“Hello?” you called, hating the way fear crept into your voice.

“Y/n. You’re awake.” You heard Wanda respond, relief obvious in her voice. You looked around for a moment trying to locate her voice when you finally noticed her across a brightly lit circular sort of area, in her own straight jacket and collar. Her eyes that were so bright before the battle now dull.

Fruitlessly you tried to use your powers to manipulate the walls of the cell to no avail. “Where are we?”

“They call it the raft.” You heard Clint’s bitter voice float through the walls. “We’re criminals now.”

The anxiety you felt began to overwhelm you as flashes of being tied up in a similar manner and watching someone you loved be harmed went through your mind. “How long have we been here?”

“Three days,” Wanda began hesitantly almost as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell you more. 

Clint interrupted her. “They’ve been knocking you out each time you come to, even for a second. First, they doped you up. The last time they just hit you. They’re not big fans of Steve over here, you’re the closest they could get to him.” Anger was clear in his words. 

You thought you heard him mumble something about putting Wanda directly across from you, so she’d be forced to watch. 

Wanda looked resigned with purple bruising under her eyes. You were hesitant to ask. “What happened to you?” she shook her head.

Thankfully Sam answered for her. “They’re not big fans of her either. The one good thing Tony did was stop what they were doing to both of you.”

Before you could ask anything else, the sound of the door opening caught your attention, all of your attention it seemed. A moment later, Steve walked in, a relieved smile on his face as he took in each of you. 

“About time.” Sam said gruffly.

Without hesitation Steve began taking you each out of your cell and loaded onto the jet he had waiting. 

You were watching the prison shrink in the distance from the safety of the quinjet when you felt someone take a seat next to you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Do you think we can have that talk now?”

Part 8! Don’t worry there’s more to come, I’m just releasing one title ahead at a time. This part was semi-difficult to write because I didn’t want to add too much of the fight scene because then it would be extremely long and this was more of a set-up chapter for Wanda and the readers story. To establish where they are after separating and bring them back into each others lives. Anyway, as always, hope you all enjoyed! Comments and thoughts always welcome. :) (bonus points if you can tell me what part was referenced in this chapter ;)

[oliviayamaoka]

Heartfelt Deception Continuation (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

Joey x Reader Angst!!!!!!

Hi! I’ve been busy working and getting ready for university but I’ve been DYING to finish requests! I wanna put my heart and soul into the requests so sorry if it takes long! Working on finishing the Doctor stuff after this!

Anyways, general plot is you see Joey again but your reunion is short lived!

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the Entity’s realm at this point. It felt like years but must’ve been a few months. It feared you apart on the inside thinking about all those you left behind. What terrified you most was the thought of you actually being dead. Were you just a husk being punished in this purgatory? This hell? What the hell did you even do to deserve this? You sighed deeply and looked upwards.

You awaited the trial. It had been almost two weeks since you were chosen to participate in a trial. You cherished every moment not being in those twisted games. A shudder ran through your spine remembering your last trial. You awoke in a bathroom with Kate Denson. There were devices on your heads and the voice of a man spoke, telling you that he wanted to play a game. While you and Kate played that awful game, the other two were doing generators. You got the trap off of your head but Kate wasn’t so lucky. It was terrifying but you couldn’t forget the image of the woman in red. The woman who wore a pig’s head as she chased you.

“Y/N?” A guy said to you as you jumped. You recognized the guy as Quentin Smith. He was around your age and you two talked before.

“Oh, hey.” You said with a smile, a nervous one.

“Are you, like… alright?” He asked you as you nodded.

“Just nervous.” You said to him.

Quentin was friendly but he looked extremely tired. He came the same time as the dream demon? You hadn’t personally fought this demon but you hated what you heard about him. But, you did remember where they came from. Elm Street, was it? Despite the atrocities that occurred here, you loved hearing about where all these mysterious people came from. He nodded in response and looked around.

“Yeah, me too. I, uh, heard that we might be fighting that ogre…” He said. You saw the fear in his eyes when he began to remember his own trauma fighting these creatures and murderers.

“Which one?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood as he chuckled quietly.

“The samurai one.” He said as you nodded. Y/N only fought him once. A hulking samurai who beat her down in an instant. You cringed, remembering the blunt force trauma on your back. Quentin noticed how uncomfortable you looked and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, yeah… it’s just gonna be me, you, Bill, and… Ace? I dunno, they’re old so I don’t really know how to talk to them.” He shrugged.

“Well, I have faith we’ll be fine. Bill might look old but you should see him in action.” You said with a grin. Bill once refused to leave you behind, carrying you on his back and throwing you out the exit gate once. Since then, you admired him and always had his back.

“Yeah, he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” Quentin asked as he yawned. You were about to say something but the familiar, cold fog surrounded you guys.

“Come find me.” He quickly said to you as the fog completely engulfed you.

You shut your eyes tightly, opening them again when you were sure you were in one of the realms. Your hair blew slightly when you looked around. This place seemed foreign to you. It was a hospital of some sort? Not Crotus Prenn. Y/N looked around, crossing her arms tightly. The hallway looked old, dirty, and bloody. In one of the many rooms were chairs and bathrooms?

Y/N shivered and peaked down the hallways. You didn’t see any of your teammates. As you walked into the waiting room, you saw a paper on the ground. You kneeled down and picked it up.

“Leary’s Memorial Institute exposé.” You mumbled, instantly lighting up when you realized this must’ve been the realm that belonged to the infamous Doctor. You didn’t fight him yet but you heard how he fought survivors. Electric blasts? The place seemed massive and long. You then remembered what you heard your friend say. ‘Come find me.’

“Quentin?” You called out, not too loudly in fear that the killer was around. When you got no response, you just began to quietly speed walk to the generator you spotted down the hallway.

You kneeled down, wasting no time in getting to work on it. The repairs came naturally to you. And when you were so focused on survival, you were determined on fixing this generator. The generator sparked and as you continued to fix it, it became more and more loud. At this point, you didn’t care if the killer heard you. You just wanted this generator to be completed.

Or at least you thought so, anyways. Your concentration broke when you heard a scream nearby, it must’ve been Ace? Your finger slipped and the generator blew up. Y/N covered her face as she rapidly stood up. You felt dazed for a moment and heard something sprinting towards you, you quickly turned around. You gasped loudly, holding your arms up in defence as you felt something slash through your forearm.

You let out a scream as the figure immediately stopped. Y/N stumbled a bit, panicking at the slash on your arm. The killer had been one of the Legion members. You immediately forgot about the rapid bleeding from the wound when you looked at the killer. It was Joey. He seemed frozen in place, immediately regretting his actions. He held his knife as he stared at you, breathing heavily from the fatigue he got from his frenzy. Joey wasn’t thinking straight earlier, he always had a temporary migraine whenever he finished his frenzy.

As he was about to reach out, a chair was thrown at him. It was Ace. He had a slash on his back from Joey’s knife. With confidence, he spread his arms out. Ace seemed somewhat pissed off too. Joey grunted and snapped his eyes to his direction.

“Come pick on someone your own size, pal.” He said as Joey switched the way he held his knife.

“Run, kid!” Ace yelled at you.

You looked at Joey before nodding and quickly breaking into a sprint. Joey watched you, feeling frustrated at his situation. He quickly began to chase Ace, wanting to hook him and find you as fast as possible. Y/N continued running and vaulting into random rooms. You held your forearm, losing more and more blood. Y/N eventually stopped running, feeling exhausted and lightheaded.

You kneeled down, biting your lip hard as you pressed your forearm into your shirt. It stung and the sight of your own blood was making you panic. In fact, you didn’t even realize how much sound you were making, breathing heavily and crying. When you heard footsteps beside you, you basically shrieked but quickly realized it was just Bill.

“Ah, shit.” He said, throwing his cigarette to the side. He kneeled down beside you and looked at your wound.

“Quentin, get your ass over here!” He yelled. You covered your mouth with your other hand as Quentin entered the room, carrying a medkit he must’ve found. How did he always manage to find a medkit? You didn’t care right now.

“Are you okay? I mean, obviously not but…” Quentin said, quickly opening the medkit for Bill.

“It stings.” You said.

“Who was it?” Bill asked, taking your wrist as he began to quickly clean your wound and mend you. You shook your head.

“I-I don’t know… he’s after Ace right now.” You said. The three of you heard the familiar scream of Ace in the distance. He must’ve been hooked.

“Not anymore.” Bill huffed as he wrapped a bandage around your arm.

“There was no alcohol or stuff in it, sorry.” Quentin said as you nodded.

“He’s one of the faster ones, though.” You said as Bill helped you up. He has his usual mean mug.

“We best split up and work on seperate gene. If you see the bastard, you better man the hell up and run for the sake of the rest of us. I’ll get Ace. You kids work on fixing these godddamn machines.” Bill said in his usual gruff tone.

“Yeah…” Quentin said nervously.

“Okay… got it.” You said as the three of you quickly ran in seperate directions. There was no need for small talk with no generators completed yet.

You ignored the pain of the wound. Not because of your objective but because he was here? What the hell were the odds of seeing him again? Why didn’t he just kill you in Ormond? Maybe, it was a deception trick? You didn’t know and it was starting you drive you crazy. He even shows you his face. His face! You never forgot what he looked like. You also never forgot how he felt, sitting so close to you and comforting you? You felt your face heat up at the thought but got angry thinking about how it just could’ve been a lie.

You walked back to your generator, quickly going back to work on it. As you kneeled down, you yelped as you were pried off of the generator. Y/N panicked as the gloved hand covered her mouth.

“Please don’t scream!” You heard the familiar voice of Joey say to you. You struggled but quickly stopped, curiosity getting the better of you.

You quickly ripped away from him when he let you go. You turned around, eyes wide and your posture tense. Joey tilted his head, taking in your features as his shoulders loosened. It felt so intoxicating for him to finally see you again. He pulled his hood back and took off his mask. You still felt on edge when he did so. Joey knew he didn’t deserve to act so friendly but still, he smiled seeing you again.

“Look… I know things look bad right now.” He began as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Bad…?!” You whisper shouted.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean to…! The Entity makes me and my friends go into this weird ass bloodlust state where we want you just stab everything in sight, I stopped as soon as I recognized you!” He explained, rambling a bit.

“Stopped, huh?” You questioned, mad about your wound. It was pretty deep. He sighed deeply, holding his head in frustration.

“Look, I could’ve done so much worse than that, okay…? I just, I’m sorry, okay?” He said.

“You don’t sound that sorry.” Y/N replied, you crossed your arms.

“Man, just bare with me, aight? I’m not used to saying stuff like that.” He said, clearly flustered.

You let your guard down and stared at him. Of course, you still felt extremely scared knowing he was one of the killers but he felt so… relatable? Funny, almost. Why was Joey even a killer? What did he even do?

“It’s okay.” You said after a few silent moments. He looked at you.

“Really…?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah… it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” You mumbled awkardly as he stood up straight again, putting his knife away.

“I doubt that but still… it’s nice seeing you again.” He said with a geeky smile. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held your worst to your chest, looking around.

“I-um… why aren’t you trying to kill me…?” You asked in a quiet, awkward voice. It felt so strange speaking to other people your age. Quentin was fine but this was Joey.

Joey stared at you for a second. Not even he knew the answer to that question yet. Well, he didn’t but he didn’t want you outright tell you that he had a crush on you. He scratched the back of his neck and nervously looked around. He wanted to shoot his shot since he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again for a long time but he didn’t want to rush things and make you uncomfortable. Not that he cared, if this thing between you two was possible then he’d be as patient and respectful as he could.

“I think you’re cool.” He replied as you stared at him. You blinked a few times in both shock.

“You think I’m cool…?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah… you don’t like that?” He asked.

“No, I do, but… you’re a killer.” You said, your eyes wide with fear subconsciously as you looked at him.

Joey felt a sting in his chest with the way you were looking at him. But, you were right. He was indeed a killer. Fucking Frank, he thought to himself. If it weren’t for him and Julie pretending to be so badass, he wouldn’t be here. Although, he probably wouldn’t have met you. He deserved to be here for helping them kill that janitor. Joey knew it deep down but he wanted to preserve the image of himself he wished he had. A geeky Canadian teenager. Something he once was before he hung out with the wrong crowd.

“I know I’m a goddamn murderer, okay?! I wish I wasn’t but I had no choice!” He snapped. You seemed taken aback by his sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, I…” Y/N stammered as he shook his head, sighing deeply.

“No, it’s fine… my bad. I’m just used to getting mad easily ‘cause of my friends. I dunno, you just miss social cues when you hang out with the same three fuckers.” He said.

You fumbled with your hands nervously and looked towards the waiting room. You thought for a second before clearing your throat.

“Um… wanna sit…?” You asked nervously as you pointed towards the waiting room. Joey stared blankly before looking at you, surprised by the suggestion.

“Uh, yeah, definitely.” He nodded eagerly as he followed after you.

You walked into the room and sat down on one of the chair, putting one leg over the other. Joey seemed much more confident when sitting, getting comfortable with his arms crossed and legs spread. You didn’t know why but you smiled at how comfortable he quickly got. Joey was a mystery, an interesting one to say the least. Y/N looked around at the walls.

“So… how are you…?” You say.

“Chilling, I guess… you?” He asked.

“Surviving.” You joke as he chuckled lightly.

“Sorry, I gotta ask… what do you survivors even do after the trials? When I first got here, I thought you would all be dead permanently.” He said to you.

“Oh, uh, there’s like a campsite? We get our own tents and supplies. We kinda just explore the woods and dreadfully wait for the Entity to choose the unlucky four.” You explained.

“Unlucky four, huh? Why are you here?” He asked you. Y/N shrugged lightly.

“Honestly, I don’t know… I was happy and free until the fog came. I’m starting to lose track of the days.” You said.

“Me too.” Joey said with a deep sigh.

“Why are you here…?” You asked nervously.

“Me? Uh… fuck. Look, I’ve been doing some self-reflection and getting in touch with like, emotions and shit. I know what I did was wrong but it was Frank’s fault. And Julie influenced his dumbass… if only they didn’t think they were fucking Harley and Joker.” He muttered.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“I—or we, killed a janitor… it was some older dude. Me and Susie didn’t want to but I dunno, I never thought peer pressure was real but… I guess I was just scared shitless when I saw Frank with that knife…” He said. You could hear the guilt in his voice as he leaned forward.

“And it could’ve been something we could’ve easily redeemed ourselves for but… that’s when the Fog came. I dunno… ever since I met you, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” Joey said.

“Me?” You ask as he looked at you.

“Yeah… not in a weird way but, you’re cool and normal… something I don’t find often nowadays.” He shrugged as you nodded, your heart thumping from how flustered you’d become.

“So, who’s this Frank?”

“Frank? Well, he’s my bro. My best friend, as you people would say. I dunno, he was kind of a loser now that I think of it but ride or die, amirite? Anyways, I always knew he was kind of crazy. And Julie too. I never liked her too much, she was always kinda bossy. Especially towards Susie.” Joey explained.

“Anyways, we formed the Legion. It was us four against the world for a bit. Quite literally now that I think about it. I think the Entity changed Frank… he’s more… violent now? Literally doesn’t even listen to reason anymore.” He said.

“Sounds like an asshole, sorry.” You said as he smiled.

“He is, don’t worry.” Joey said.

“So, that’s why you’re here? You got scared and were forced to do something? That’s such bullshit.” You said, looking at him.

“Yeah, I guess so…. I’m really nothing to be scared of.” Joey said before falling silent, holding his head for a second when he heard whispers in his head.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

Joey felt the Entity’s anger with him. At times, it was scary. He remembered what happened to Susie when she didn’t comply with what it wanted her to do. It just twisted her even more and made Frank into a complete monster. He shut his eyes tightly. Joey wasn’t making an effort to sacrifice anybody and the Entity was growing tired and bored with this trial.

“I’m fine, just fatigue is all…” He lied.

“But, um… yeah, thank you for opening up to me about that stuff… and for your gloves.” You said, smiling warmly. He looked towards you.

“You remember that?” He asked.

“How could I not? You’re still my friend. A good one, at that.” You say, grabbing his hands softly and standing him up. Joey wished he didn’t have his other set of gloves on so he could feel your skin.

“I was gonna suggest you drink some water slowly but… there’s none.” You said to him.

“Real smart.” He sarcastically laughed with a grin. You smiled too.

“Please, I literally forgot we were in hell.” You said.

“Oh, this is hell?” He asked, becoming a bit more bold when it came to flirting with you.

“Maybe.” You replied with a smile.

You frowned when he held his head again. Joey grunted at the sudden sharp pain in his head, a migraine worse than when the frenzy ended. You put your hand on his shoulder, watching him with concern as he grit his teeth. Why they hell was this happening now? Why the fuck did the Entity suddenly care so much? Joey knew what it wanted. It wanted it to hurt her.

“Y/N…” He muttered.

“Uh, what’s up…?” You asked in concern.

“I don’t think it wants us to waste anymore time.” Joey said, wincing from the pain and becoming more overwhelmed when the whispers grew louder. Y/N couldn’t hear anything.

“What? The Entity?” You asked.

“Listen, you should just… run, okay? Go do a generator or something.” He said before he cried out in pain after finishing his sentence.

“Joey?!” You asked with panic in your voice.

“Fuck…! Quit it, you motherfucker!” Joey yelled at the Entity, holding his head. You rubbed his back, totally unsure of what to do.

“I-It’s okay…! Don’t listen to it!” You said to him.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Joey said to you when you suddenly felt a sharp pain plunge into your stomach. Your eyes widened as Joey stood tall, aggressively twisting the knife before pulling it away.

You coughed out blood onto his chest, clinging to his shoulders when you felt yourself lose blood rapidly. Joey pushed you back, slashing again at your chest. In that moment, he felt rage, anger, sadness, regret, shame, and guilt. But, the bloodlust he felt was even stronger than what the frenzy made him feel. He couldn’t control it. The Entity did. You wailed as you curled up, not expecting anything that just happened. Joey cleaned his knife off, putting his mask back on and lifting his hood.

Joey didn’t speak. He couldn’t even look at you when he picked you up. It made him feel even worse at how weakly you were wiggling. You punched at his back as hard as you could but you were ready to faint at any given moment due to the extreme blood loss. Joey shut his eyes tightly once he got to the hook, hoisting you off of his shoulder onto it. Your eyes shot wide open at the hooked sensation. The hook shot adrenaline through your body as you tried lifting yourself up, letting out a scream as you hung there.

He couldn’t even bare to look at you. Even in his crazed state of mind, he seemed ready to just kill himself. Why did the Entity do what it did? He just turned and walked away as fast as he could. Due to the amount of time you wasted with Joey, the Entity just decided to kill you then and there. It didn’t want to wait for any of your fellow survivors to come and get you. It was bored and hungry. Joey began his frenzy once he heard the Entity finish you off, deciding to take his anger out on the remaining survivors.

You slowly opened your eyes to see Yui watching you intently. She seemed surprised you were awake and brushed your forehead. Beside her was Claudette who made sure you were okay.

“You’re awake.” She said.

“Yui…?” You asked, disorientated.

“You did not last long, at all.” She jokingly said as you sat up. Claudette seemed too shy to tell you not to sit up. You winced.

Usually, it would take a few days for all wounds to completely heal.

“You guys must have had a rough trial.” Laurie said as she kneeled down beside you. You looked towards the other three.

Quentin, Bill, and Ace seemed to be in a worse condition than you. Multiple bandages and bloodied wounds. Your mind immediately went to Joey. What had happened? You winced at the pain in your stomach.

“It’s a really deep wound. Just sit back and relax.” Laurie said to you as you nodded.

You thought about Joey. You remembered your last interaction with him, how he seemed unwilling to kill you. What did the Entity do to him? Would he be like that forever? You teared up at the thought of it. Joey didn’t deserve to be here, he was just like you and Quentin. He was normal. You shut your eyes and hopes that maybe you’d see him again. There was a sense of heartache within you when you thought of him now.

“Heard you had an amazing fucken trial.” Frank said to Joey, congratulating him but Joey wasn’t having any of it.

“Fuck off, Frank.” He growled at him as Frank held his hands up jokingly.

“Too much palettes dropped on your tiny brain, Joe?” Julie asked sarcastically, sitting close to the fire inside the lodge in Ormond.

“The Entity seemed happy with your trial, Joey. Maybe we won’t have to do one for a while.” Susie suggested, twirling her knife.

“Probably for the fucking best.” Joey muttered as Frank stood up, tilting his head.

“Why are you so riled up, man?” He asked.

“Just leave it, Frank. Joey’s becoming soft.” Julie said, rolling her eyes.

“And you’re not? We’re in a whole different fucking dimension!” Joey snapped.

“Why would I be? We get to do whatever we want.” Julie shrugged.

“I thought that way too… when I was a fucking kid.” Joey said to her as she glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank questioned him.

“You guys are still so fuckcing delusional… we can do whatever we want, really?! Even if we weren’t in his shit hole, we wouldn’t have had money, jobs, or a place to stay. I can’t believe I was that fucking childish to think this was paradise.” He said to them.

“Where the fuck is this coming from then, huh?! You just had a good fucking kill sesh and now here you are bitching like a fucking pansy.” Frank said to him.

“Kill sesh? Maybe, I am a fucking pansy for not wanting to be cool and edgy for killing innocent people.” Joey said, inches away from each other’s faces.

“Innocent people, huh? Who’d you see there, Joey?” Julie asked, a grin on her face. She seemed excited from the anger.

“Nobody.” He quickly replied.

“Was it somebody from school?” She asked.

“I didn’t see nobody, now fuck off.” He said.

“Ever since that one Ormond trial, you’ve been acting so fucken soft. We all noticed, Joey. You feel bad for one of those survivors, don’t you?” Julie said to him.

“They’re not worth feeling sorry for, Joey. They’re here for a reason and we have to punish them.” Frank said to him.

“How the fuck do you know that? Did that janitor deserve it?! Did Susie deserve this?! They sure as hell didn’t and neither did Y/N!” Joey yelled at them. Susie’s face lightened a bit. She also missed her old life but was often bullied by Julie.

“Y/N, huh? Must be one of those newer gals. You like her, Joey?” Julie asked him.

“Skip of the tongue, bitch.” Joey muttered.

“Awe, you finally found a girl. Frank and I were starting to think you’d be a virgin for eternity.” Julie said to him with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joey said angrily.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it. She’ll probably end up as the Entity’s lunch by next week. Sometimes it kills survivors for good. Just imagine what it would do to somebody one of the killers cared for.” Frank said, smiling when the realization hit Joey.

“Awe, Joey’s showing emotion for once.” Julie teased. Joey felt scared for the first time in forever. Was it true? Would it kill Y/N because he cares for her in that way?

“Leave him alone, guys. You act like you’re not a couple.” Susie said to them.

“Oh, shut up. That’s different, we’re a group.” Julie rolled her eyes.

“Fuck you guys.” Joey said as he stormed off, leaving the other three. He needed to check up on Y/N somehow.

[xhisokas-harleyx]

okay but imagine hisoka and fem!reader going for an undercover mission, in a ball (well this gives me an excuse for hisoka in a suit with his hair down looking kinda normal yk aaaaa) and he and reader are waltzing across the ballroom, with the mutual pining, the flirting back and forth, constantly one upping each other without making it too crudely sexual while maintaining eye contact no matter what (bonus points if reader doesnt get flustered outwardly) <333

I’m sorry this took so long! Vacation and a few other things happened. I took a little creative liberty with this one I think... Hope you enjoy! 😊

Part 2 is out, link at the bottom :)

I’m getting to the other requests soon!

Song Inspiration: Fire on Fire; Sam Smith

Word Count: 2700

Hisoka x Fem Reader: Fire x Fire

You sigh as you look up at the clock that acts as a guardian for the entry hall you are sitting in. As of now, you’ve been waiting for Hisoka to enter the room for about 45 minutes. You have finished your hair, your makeup, and dressed accordingly, which took a decent amount of time- however, your male counterpart for the evening is still not ready.

“Hisoka… how much longer?!” You call to the upstairs bathroom, and you sigh melodramatically. You’d have thought he was ditching you if it wasn’t in fact a mission that HE himself had invited you to. “We’re going to be late, and that will attract attention!” You groan.

“Speaking of attracting attention…” A smooth, low voice coos from behind you, and you jolt up from your seat on the bottom of the stairs and wheel around. “…You call that undercover?” He says, as his tongue flashes across his bottom lip, a sinful gaze in his golden irises.

~Because I, for one, can’t keep my eyes off of you.~ He refrains from saying that last part.

There Hisoka stands, with a raised eyebrow, admiring you with a smirk as he plays with one of his cufflinks. His pink hair is down, covering his eyes only slightly, but not enough that you can’t see the hungry look in his golden irises. He doesn’t have any makeup on, and he is wearing a clean white suit with a tie and napkin that matches the color of your dress.

Quickly, you close your mouth, fighting to regain your composure and not allow him to see your reaction to his appearance. This mission was going to be hard enough without him distracting you throughout…

Little do you know, Hisoka is currently appraising your appearance as he strolls slowly down the stairs. Your sleek (f/c) dress hugs your curves perfectly, covered in sequins that catch the light of the chandelier at random intervals. Both of your outfits are a bit flamboyant- but honestly, could you expect any less from this efficient duo?

“It’s all about catching them off guard, hiding in plain sight.” You say to him, tipping your chin upward and placing a hand confidently on your hip. “The more attention we attract, the better chance we have of fooling those around us and identifying our target early.” You smirk as you meet his witty remark with your own explanation.

Hisoka lets out a small chuckle before he opens the door for you. “You know as well as I that that logic makes no sense.” He points out with a coy smile.

“Sounds good though, doesn’t it?” You retort, walking past him without so much as a glance.

“As does everything that comes from your lips.” He says it in a deep and yearning tone that catches you by surprise, even for Hisoka.

You fight the urge to tense up- this party hasn’t even begun yet, and Hisoka is already trying to get under your skin as you’d suspected he might. Luckily, you know exactly how to bat him off.

“Hurry up.” You order, completely ignoring him; it was phase one of your plan. Much to your chagrin, this pursuit only excites Hisoka, his eyes twinkling as he watches you get into the limo that will take you to the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your way to the ball, Hisoka watches you silently as you look out the window, the stars flying by as you speed to the event. You don’t even notice, until you feel that familiar bloodlust rising from his direction.

“You’re going to have to control- that – if we are going to stay undercover. We don’t know how many Nen users are going to be here.” You say nonchalantly, looking to him.

In the low light, Hisoka doesn’t speak at first, almost as if you’ve caught him looking when you weren’t supposed to. He notices how well your makeup is done- and how much care you have taken in styling your hair tonight. He loves those golden earrings you are wearing and makes a note to steal them from you later.

You notice his silence. “Hey, Hisok-“

“We are almost there, madam.” The driver tells you, interrupting your snapping to bring the pink haired man’s attention back to you… even though it hasn’t left you he saw you sitting on those stairs.

You thank the man, and you take this opportunity to affix your knife under your dress, rolling the long fabric up to your thigh and strapping it around your leg. You know exactly what this will do to Hisoka; and yet, you do it anyway, deciding to fight fire with fire.

Hisoka’s eyes widen under his bangs, and he stifles a soft moan. He does his best to look away, knowing that, despite this game you two play… he must control himself around you. Because, somewhere deep inside, he is amazed that you even agreed to come with him tonight, and he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Luckily, you are very determined to stay unabashed.

Still, his bloodlust peaks at the sight, and you use this as an opportunity to order him again.

“Nen off. Now.” You demand, dropping your skirt back to its normal position and flashing him a side glance as the limo stops.

“Oh, is that an order?” He questions, kicking an eyebrow and biting the inside of his lip, fully expecting to trip you up. He just can’t help himself. He can’t resist the urge to play this game with you, and is so impressed with the fact that you willingly (and expertly) play it too.

“Absolutely.” You reply without missing a beat. His eyes focus on you, unsure how to take your hot and cold attitude, and your apparent disinterest in his flirtation. Still, he obeys, and clears his throat, exiting the limo and moving to your side to open the door for you.

You get out gracefully, refusing the hand he is holding out to you, which both infuriates and encourages him.

“The target is an older Nen user with blue hair. Rich guy. Tons of ladies. Right?” You whisper to Hisoka, trying to confirm the details so you can begin to scout for your victim. “Conjurer?”

Hisoka doesn’t answer you for a moment, and instead, seems distracted before coming back to his senses.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Conjurer. Those women he hangs with are replicas of the prostitutes he’s said to have murdered. Perhaps talking to them could be our key to finding him.” You weren’t questioning how he knew all of this, but glance at him.

“So you’re going to use this as a speed dating service.” You state, rolling your eyes, though your comment is meant to be more funny than mean. Hisoka, however, looks to you with a confused expression.

“You wound me!” He chuckles in response, dramatically clutching his chest, but taking great care not to reveal the actual hurt underneath. Is that what you saw him as?

There is an awkward silence between the two of you, but as you walk into the entryway of the mansion, you put on your acting expressions and begin to scout out the crowd. There are hundreds of people, live music, drinks, and conversations happening all over the large abode, and in an instant, you feel a bit overwhelmed.

“We should split up.” You suggest. Not that you wanted to leave his side, but wouldn’t it be easier to find the target this way?

Unbeknownst to you, your suggestion slightly upsets Hisoka. He had hoped you would stay together, but he doesn’t protest; he nods, and you two go your separate ways. However, you find yourself glancing in his direction as he slips through the crowd, a pang of guilt stabbing your heart.

~~~~~~~~~

An hour or so later, you have still had no luck locating this bastard, and have decided to stop at the bar for a drink. You know that you’re supposed to be working, but how can you relax at all without a break? You order a drink from the bartender, and promptly begin to down it, leaning on the bar and analyzing the crowd. You can’t help but think of Hisoka, and how handsome he looked in his proper outfit which was so different than what you normally saw him in.

Often, you wondered if his flirtation was just that and nothing else; or whether there could be a chance that he feels morefor you. There were times when he could be so caring toward you… but he did have the tendency to be fickle and dishonest with his emotions.

As much as you hated to admit it… you felt morefor him. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, you liked that about him. You had the ability to see through his apathetic exterior to the human underneath. You didn’t know whether that made you a hopeless romantic, or just plain crazy.

Suddenly, you see a flash of pink hair in the far distance, breaking your fantasy. It is Hisoka, shining like a diamond just next to the dance floor. A wave of relief washes over you briefly, and you set down your drink to make your way toward him, quicker than you’d imagined.

However, the sight you see there before you made your stomach flip, and you question the flirtation you’d just fantasized about. Through the crowd of people, you can see Hisoka talking to a bunch of nicely dressed ladies, a drink perched in his hand like he was some aristocrat. They seem to be laughing at just about everything he said, and one of them has the audacity to playfully touch his lapel, which set you off.

Now you were disobeying your own advice as your bloodlust piqued. Your fists clench and you begin to trudge toward the large magician, who doesn’t seem to notice your presence. That could not be more false, however, and he smirks to himself as he feels your approach, parting the crowd and traversing the ballroom dance floor.

Your high heels, however, have another idea: to ruin your night.

Your heel twists, and you trip over your own feet, a few people gasping as your body flies toward the floor. However, your momentum is stopped by the stern body of your audacious savior.

Hisoka pulls your arm past his neck, his strong arm wrapping around your waist and holding you flush against his body. A few of the people clap at the display, the women especially noting how dashing this charismatic man is, and how lucky the woman in his arms must be.

Obviously, they didn’t know the real Hisoka…

“If you wanted to dance, you could have just asked.” Hisoka notes softly, with a hubristic undertone. The way he holds you, however, is soft and careful, his fingers spread along your waist as he pulls you to your feet. You scoff, and look away, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from his pleasing embrace. Still, you’re mad at him, and you don’t show your flustered expression outwardly.

Without your permission, Hisoka begins to move your body in tandem with his, guiding your hips to the beat of the new song playing in the ballroom.

“You look angry, (Y/N).” He notices your expression and rigidity but doesn’t stop moving his feet. It’s a rather timid tune at first, however, at the bridge of the song the tempo began to pick up, and you easily accommodated. You two begin to tango across the floor, much to the delight of the people watching your display in awe.

“We’re supposed to be working, and you’re over there flirting.” You scold yourself inwardly as you realize he’s going to have a heyday roasting your obvious jealousy.

“Ah, and you were working at the bar when you were sipping your cocktail?” He retorts fluently, surprising you. He has been watching you this whole time and was perfectly willing to never let you know it!

Hisoka whips his hair out of his eyes, his bangs parting just long enough to reveal to you a flash of his enchanted yellow eyes. Somehow, that hungry, almost pleading look behind his irises melts away your fear that he doesn’t feel anything for you. And from that moment on, you can’t break eye contact with him, as if he’s holding you under some sort of spell.

~God, that was hot.~ You think, but you are determined to keep your cool and not show all your cards, so you shoot him an equally suggestive look that makes his blood boil. Your eyes make him go crazy. He can’t take that look in your eyes, the way you encapsulate your emotions within them makes Hisoka lose his breath and feel a little weak in the knees (not something he’s used to). Both of you are too caught up in each other to realize how much you are both leaking bloodlust.

“Jealousy looks good on you.” He smirks, twirling your body around him, and catching you in his arms.

“Hm.” You smile, beginning to have fun with this performance. “I look good on you, wouldn’t you say?” You retort boldly, not expecting Hisoka to take it quite so seriously. His smile fades, and as you twirl back to him, the song dies down, and Hisoka bends you over his knee, hanging your body in his balance.

His gilded eyes have never looked more intense and sincere. Your comment seems to have uprooted his act, and his forehead presses to yours as it seems he is devouring your soul with his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more, y/n.” He breathes against your lips at the closing note of the ballad, hoping that you’ll confirm his hopes and take the leap of faith he needs you to in that moment.

Your heart begins to skip beats, and you can’t hold your act any longer. Your cheeks are painted with a deep red shade, and your neck begins to crane. Somehow, on the fly, you are unsure. What would all of this lead to?

Your thoughts of leaving Hisoka hanging are interrupted by the annoying screech of one of the women from before, spewing a slurred, “Way to go, Mr. Horatio!”

Horrible fake name aside, this makes your jealousy skyrocket as you realize she’s talking about your white knight.

You turn back to him with the fire of Hell in your eyes, and meld your lips with Hisoka’s with such ferocity that it takes him off guard, and for a moment he is completely star struck. The taste of your lips ignites such a passion within him that his hand moves to your hair, tilting your head back with a gentle tug to allow him better access to your sensitive parts. His obsession for you is on full display, and he doesn’t care who sees it.

As you break for air, his lips move excitably to your neck, the both of you completely forgetting that you are in the middle of a mission and a whole crowd of people. Neither of you seem to care, and if Hisoka has his way you’ll end this party with a bang.

The guards have a different plan.

“The Magician! I’d recognize that Bloodlust anywhere!” Someone shouts, sending a force of guards your way. Hisoka can’t help but smirk in that general direction, and without a thought, he unleashes the full weight of his bloodlust, and scoops you into his arms protectively. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, darling. Let’s head out.” He purrs. Somehow, even being chased by a force of guards, which he could easily annihilate, he is as enticing with his voice as ever. You have not the power nor will to disobey that honey-like, nuanced voice that turns your resolve to ash. Instead, you are content with the view of his hair flying in the wind as he gracefully bursts out of the mansion, running with you in his arms.

You’re completely enthralled with him, and he knows it; he feels the same about you. But as the house vanishes from your sight, your eyes widen as you remember one key detail.

“Hisoka… WE DIDN’T KILL THE TARGET!” You panic, as he slows; you’re far enough away to be safe now.

Hisoka chuckles warmly, which confuses you.

“Not to worry, y/n. I killed him days ago.” He says matter-of-factly, anticipating your reaction at hearing that the party was completely unnecessary. “My place?” He skips past it like it’s a minor detail.

Your body tenses.

“Hold on…YOU WHAT?!”

~FIN~

…I could see a very NSFW Part Two for this... -///-

Part two is here!!

https://xhisokas-harleyx.tumblr.com/post/660568203654774784/in-x-this-x-moment-hisoka-x-reader-pt2-to-fire

I loved this prompt. So cute. Hope you all liked it! <3

[blue-knightshade]

Triforce of Balance Chapter 3 (Linked Universe X Female!Reader AU)

Tw: blood

“Hey, did you just see that strange girl take off with the Traveler?” Legend asked, looking towards the dense forest surrounding the Chain and their threat. “Yeah, she’s fine. She helped out the Champion earlier before ya got here. I’m sure Traveler’s fine, too. It‘s better someone managed to help ‘im.” Twilight said, waiting for the Lynel to make it’s next move.

”But do you really think we can trust her?” Legend said, skeptically.

"If the Ranch-Hand can trust her, so can you, Vet. Besides, you should’a seen her earlier, it was nuts. Even I have to admit, she’s quite the fighter.“ Warriors said from the other side of the Lynel.

“That’s a lot comin’ from you.” Twilight said while smirking.

Warriors rolled his eyes. “Part of being a warrior is acknowledging other people’s strength—“

”Boys.” Time called from across the battlefield. “We’re in the middle of a battle, it’s not time for conversation.”

”Right, sorry!” Twilight called out hastily. Suddenly, Four ran up to the beast from behind Twilight. “Smith?! What’re ya’ doin’?!” Twilight exclaimed.

”I‘m tired of just standing around and talking!“ He said. “I’m taking a move.”

Four ran up to the monster and slid underneath it, slicing it’s ankles with the four sword. He jumped and performed an upward slash on the other side, spilling black blood from the creature‘s side onto the forest floor. The Lynel roared and spun around, swinging it’s fierce weapon. Four barely had any time to block before he was hit. It was a miracle that his small wooden shield wasn’t chopped clean in half by that blow.

”Oh my Goddesses, are you alright??” Sky asked, helping the blacksmith up.

”Haha, yeah im fine, thanks.” Four replied. He looked back up at the Lynel. “But this thing is stronger than I thought.”

****

”How’s your arm feeling?” You asked the Traveler. You had just given him one of your Hearty Elixers. It wasn’t nearly as powerful as a healing potion, but it was all you had. But if worst came to worst, you knew a little healing magic, but it saps your energy very quickly, and this isn’t a great time to rest.

”It’s feeling much better. Thanks for helping me out.” He said, with a smile on his face. “I just hope the others are doing ok…”

“I’m sure they’re alright. From what you’ve told me, you’re all legendary heroes. They should be fine.” You reassured. “Besides, It’s just a Lynel, even if it IS infected. It should be no match for some of the greatest warriors in Hyrule’s history!”

”I guess you’re right…but still, I want to get back on the battlefield as soon as possible, and my arm is virtually back to normal.” He said, getting up from his seat against the tree.

”If you say so.”

You both gathered your stuff and jogged back to the battleground. You looked over at his arm warily. “Just try not to put too much strain on that arm, ok?” “Don’t worry, I know.” He chuckled.

You looked at the others. Along with the Traveler, there had seemed to be two other swordsmen that came for backup while you weren’t looking: the first one looked much older than the others and had heavy armour and a huge sword, which you recognized immediately as the Biggoron Sword. And his face markings, too, were familiar. The second one was about the same height as Traveler, with a bright red tunic, a blue hat…and pink hair?? You stood there for a second, staring at him.

‘That’s got to be the Hero of Legend, right? I didn’t know his hair was actually pink?? I thought it was just in the game to make his hair stand out more——‘

“LOOK OUT!!” someone yelled from across the battlefield. You looked up, and there was that huge Lynel sword again, just inches from your face. Everything seemingly went into slow motion. You dodged out of the way, and mounted the beast just as the blue knight had done before. Only this time, you stood up, gripping it’s mane tightly, and ground your sword into the beast’s skull. Its thick, dark blood trickled down its face as it roared. It started to collapse underneath your feet, so you jumped off of its corpse, leaving your sword stuck in its head.

All was silent.

You sighed in relief, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. You jumped when you saw blood dripping down your wrist, but chuckled at yourself when you saw that it was just the Lynel‘s. You must have looked like a mess.

”Holy crap, that was brutal.” Said the guy with the red tunic.

Someone ran up to you. It was the knight from before with the white cape. Your heart wrenched at the sight of his sword. It was the Master Sword…a blade you hadn’t seen since the….incident.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked. You looked at him and smiled.

”Yes, I’m fine, thank you. You’re the Hero of the Sky, I presume? I’m (Y/N).” You held out your hand with the least amount of blood on it.

He looked surprised that you knew who he was, but shook your hand joyfully anyway.

“Y-Yes, that’s actually right! You have a very nice name, (Y/N). You can just call me Sky.” He said with a warm smile on his face.

Suddenly, the younger one from before appeared right next to you. You jumped at his sudden entrance.

”Those were some cool moves, lady! Were did you learn how to do them??”

“Oh! I uh-“

“Sailor, give her some space.” The older one said, walking up to you. Your eyes brightened up at the sight of him.

“And you must be the Legendary Hero of Time!!” You exclaimed, grabbing his hand and shaking it eagerly.

”Uh, how did you know that?” He asked, eyeing you.

“You‘re very famous, you know.“ You said. “People around here are just too busy studying the ancient Sheikah tech to give a damn about Hyrule’s actual history right now. It’s like these people have forgotten who they used to be!” You crossed your arms, looking past the heroes into the forest. “Yeah, before they started relying on that dumb Sheikah stuff to do it for them!” You looked back at the heroes.

“……Buuuuut that’s just my opinion.” You said, letting your arms fall back down to your sides.

”But is that not a Sheikah Slate on your hip there?” Said the Knight in Blue from before. You stared at him. He looked almost identical tyou old friend...You shook it off.

“Yes…yes it is. Queen Zelda gave it to me after my…er, the war. She isn’t into researching Sheikah tech anymore, not that she had the time for it after her coronation.”

”Your Zelda’s a queen??“ The Sailor gaped.

”Most of our Zeldas are queens, Sailor.” The one with the blue scarf said.

“Not really! Only yours and the Old Man’s.”

”Who?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

”Oh yeah, we call him the Old Man.” Sailor said, pointing at the Hero of Time as if he were a creature of some sort. He didn’t look amused.

You giggled. “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Old Man.”

He sighed.

”While we’re at it, why don’t we all introduce ourselves?” Sailor said, and started pointing at everyone and saying what you presumed to be nicknames before anyone could even say anything.

”This is Champion,” he said, pointing at the blue knight. He smiled brightly at you, and you bit the inside of your cheek and forced a smile back.

”This is Smith,” he pointed at a short person with a multicoloured tunic and straight blonde hair with a green head band. You hadn’t noticed him before. You recognized the sword on his back as the Four Sword. He waved at you and you waved back.

Sailor then pointed at the person with the red tunic. “That’s Vet.”

”Veteran” he retorted. His arms were crossed, and he was eyeing you suspiciously. You smiled awkwardly at him before Sailor could move on.

”This is Captain.” He said with his arms stretched out wide, as if he were proudly displaying a trophy. Captain went along with it. He put his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and winked at you. Vet rolled his eyes. You cringed.

”And last, but not least—“

”I sure hope not,” the man with the pelt muttered, tending to his horse.

”…This is Ranch-Hand.” Sailor said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the rancher. He looked up from what he was doing, and said,

”That was some pretty good fightin’ back there. You helped us out a lot. I’ve got to thank ya’.“

”Oh, it was no problem at all.“ you said. “I‘m honoured to be of assistance to Hyrule’s legendary heroes!”

”About that…” The Old Man spoke up. “We are looking for an individual from this era that has the Spirit of the Hero. Have you heard of anyone like that?”

Your stomach turned upside down.

”U-Um, n-no, but I can take you to the castle to talk t-to the queen,” you forced out.

“Yeah, that should be fine,” the Captain said. “How far is it?”

”Castle Town is just beyond this forest.” You said, pointing in the vague direction with a shaky finger. “I was going to head there anyway to get cleaned up.”

”Perfect, thank you.” The Old Man said. “I promise we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we find the hero.”

“Uh, yup, ok!” You said, your forehead sweating.

No one seemed to notice how pale you were.

[lovelylogans]

puppy love

roger: do you want another cup of marriage? anita: excuse me? roger: tea? another cup of tea? anita: you said marriage. roger: uh, marriage? anita: yes, that’s what you said. i—i mean, you meant to say tea... but it—it came out marriage. roger: oh, i’m sorry. uh—do you want another cup of... tea?

—101 dalmatians

warnings: misbehaving dog, misunderstanding that might cause secondhand embarrassment, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, offscreen patton/janus

word count: 2,732

notes: this is for day four of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “alternate universe” and i have decided to write a "i think my dog likes your dog” au, based off the introduction of anita and roger in 101 dalmatians! please enjoy!

⁂

Logan would have named his dog Tesla if the name had not already become popular due to the brand and if he did not have a deep-seated dislike of Elon Musk, but as it has, and as he does, his dog’s name is Nikola instead. He had finally given in and adopted her after his brother, Patton, had been wheedling him to adopt or foster one of the animals for years from the shelter he serves as veterinarian.

Nikola is a very intelligent dog. In the two-and-a-half years he has had her since she was a puppy, he has taught her a variety of tricks—the usual things, like sit, shake, stay, but also more unusual tricks like fetching him water bottles or tissues or any number of things that she knows the name of and is within her reach. She is a mix of two intelligent breeds—rottweiler and German shepherd—and as such learning and practicing tricks helps keep her from being bored. 

She has a surplus of enrichment toys. She never rips up shoes or furniture. She keeps an obedient trot at his side on hikes and runs ahead if he tells her to. She waits after he throws something for her to fetch until he says to run, and she has learned to sit before they cross the street. She is a very well-trained dog. 

Which is why it is so surprising when, as soon as he crouches to unleash her at the dog park they go to on Sundays, weather permitting, she snatches his baseball cap meant to keep the spring sun out of his eyes, and goes running off as if he has told her to fetch a tennis ball.

“Nikola!” He calls, out of being startled more than anything, before he starts to jog after her.

Nikola runs, just a black-and-brown streak of fur with the navy blue of his cap clamped between her teeth, and Logan is really quite fortunate that he spends most Saturdays, weather permitting, hiking, and weekday mornings on jogs besides. This habit has kept him in shape, however, it has also contributed to keeping Nikola in shape, and as such she is a very fast and athletic dog. He wonders briefly if he’ll catch her before he makes too much a fool of himself.

But just as suddenly as she’d started running, she stops at one of the benches installed around the dog park, dropping his cap on the bench and then immediately moving to the dog sitting beside her owner, Nikola wagging her tail and panting and looking quite pleased with herself, with eyes only for the other dog. The other dog, all black excepting the white splotch on her chest, looks at Nikola curiously, but does not crouch in a playful posture or otherwise react.

“Nikola, really,” he scolds, picking up his cap and jamming it back on his head. Then he looks to the man sitting on the bench with the dog that Nikola now seems enamored with, intent on apologizing for disturbing him or his dog, but his mouth goes dry almost immediately.

The man with the dog sitting calmly at his side is very handsome. 

He’s brown-skinned and black-haired—he’s Latino, Logan thinks—and in the middle of reading a book. Logan isn’t sure what book, based on the way his hands are placed, his long, elegant fingers covering the title. He’s also listening to music, as evidenced by the white wireless earbuds placed in his ears.

It’s likely that Nikola’s tomfoolery hasn’t disturbed him at all. The man only gives Logan a look—his eyes, which are a stunning shade of brown so dark they’re practically black—and returns his attention to his novel.

Logan clears his throat awkwardly, jams his cap back on his head, and turns to Nikola, who is still trotting around them, seeming very pleased with herself, wagging her tail, looking every inch a pompous showdog.

Sometime in the middle of watching Nikola, the exceptionally handsome man has closed his book and stood up, and Logan tries his best not to pay him any mind as he walks away.

“Helena, come,” he says, with a deep, lovely voice that hits Logan somewhere in the sternum. He has an accent—Spanish, maybe? Portuguese? Logan isn’t very familiar with romantic languages outside of English, other than the Latin he took throughout high school and college. Nikola is still looking very excited, but the black dog—Helena—stands and follows after the man.

“Nikola, really,” he repeats weakly, and crouches before her, gathering her leash in hand and preparing to let her loose so they can, perhaps, play a game of fetch, or something that does not involve Logan running after her like a madman.

But of course not. Whatever mood Nikola’s in persists, as she suddenly pulls forward, forcing Logan to get up off the ground lest he be dragged in her wake, and he really does not want to be dragged along the ground at the dog park, so he does, scrambling after her and trying to regain his balance.

He doesn’t notice she’s looping her leash around the man’s knees until it’s too late.

Which brings him to notice that she is also backtracking to loop around his knees.

He cannot help but notice when Nikola pulls tight and it brings Logan and the man colliding forcefully, chest-to-chest.

“Oh!” The man grunts. His chest is warm and broad. Logan would quite like to curl up under a nearby rock and never come out and also, if Nikola understood human terms, she would be so grounded. As it is he is absolutely revoking treats for her behavior today, even if the man is now putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder and it radiates warmth through his shirt.

“I beg your pardon,” Logan splutters, “I’m so sorry, please excuse me, I’ve no idea what’s gotten into her—”

At the same time, the man is saying “What the hell, oh my God, what—” and trying to push them apart, Logan stumbling with it.

Which makes the man stumble, which makes Logan stumble a little more, and very suddenly, they’re overbalancing, and Logan lands on top of him, the man wheezing as his back meets the ground, surely knocking the wind out of him. Even with that, he puts a hand at Logan’s waist to keep him from falling off of him into the dirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan gasps, and looks over—Nikola and Helena are side by side, Helena still haughty, Nikola still seeming very self-congratulatory.

“Nikola, bad girl,” he scolds. She doesn’t even have the decency to look chastened. “I swear she’s never like this, I really am so sorry—”

Logan manages to loosen the leash from around their knees and rolls off the man, apologizing all the while.

The man manages to sit up, eyes wide, and promptly Helena comes trotting over to him, leaning heavily into his side. 

“Uh, that’s,” the man coughs, “that’s okay. It—it wasn’t your fault. Um.”

He threads his fingers throughout Helena’s long fur, and Logan whistles sharply. Nikola at least has the good sense to return to his side.

“I am very sorry,” he repeats and stands, offering a hand to the man. The man hesitates before he releases Helena and takes it, allowing Logan to pull him to his feet.

Logan picks up the book—oh, he’s handsome and he has good taste, too, he’s reading On Beauty by Zaydie Smith, of course he had to go and look like an absolute buffoon in front of him—and holding it out for him.

The man takes his book back, eyes wide, before he looks to the dogs.

And then, of all the things to do, he starts to laugh.

Logan looks, too, and he feels his face crack into a grin.

Nikola is wagging her tail eagerly, staring at Helena, and Helena, at last, seems to look back at her. Her tail, almost grudgingly, starts to wag, too.

“I think your dog has a crush on my dog,” the man says, amused.

“I can’t deny that observation,” Logan admits. Sure, Nikola will play with other dogs, but she’s never been so sweet to another dog before. Even if he is irritated with her for running off, he can’t quite hold onto his sense of annoyance as Nikola makes doe-eyes at Helena.

“Like a regular Romeo,” the man says, then makes a face. “No, scratch that. Um—”

“She’d be a Juliet, regardless,” Logan interrupts.

He relaxes his shoulders. “Good. Romeo’s overused.”

He catches Logan’s confused eye, and explains, “My brother’s name is Roman. He crushes on people a lot. It was an easy joke growing up.”

“Ah,” Logan says, waits a beat, before he says, “It’s odd I know your dog’s name and your brother’s name before I know yours?”

“I have another brother named Remus,” he offers. “And, now that you know my family tree except me, I’m Virgil.”

“Well, I have a brother named Patton, and a brother-in-law named Janus,” Logan says. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil’s brow crinkles up. “Not Janus Ophidian?”

“The same,” Logan says.

“Small world,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “He’s a pain in my ass.”

He immediately blushes, as if he did not mean to say that, but Logan laughs before he can stop himself. Virgil blushes deeper.

“Uh, sorry,” Virgil says. “Sorry, he’s your—”

“No, you’re quite right,” Logan says affably. “He is a pain in the ass, he’d be proud to hear you say it. How do you know him?”

“Coworkers, of a sort,” Virgil says.

“So you’re a lawyer?” Logan says curiously.

“No,” Virgil says. “He’s in immigration law, right?”

“Correct.”

“I’m a translator,” Virgil says. “They hire me on retainer, sometimes, for clients who speak Spanish or Portuguese and not as much English. Or Catalan, or Aromanian, or Asturian, but those are way less common.”

“Interesting,” Logan says. “You’re a polyglot?”

“Six languages fluently, and three enough to make conversation,” Virgil says, then, “Aw, look at that.”

Nikola is nosing at Helena, and, after waiting a moment, Helena noses her back, their muzzles pressing together in a facsimile of a kiss.

“Well,” Logan says, unsure of what to really say to that, because it really is quite adorable. Then, “I suppose they’d like to spend time together. Would you like to sit back down on the bench to talk?”

Virgil smiles at him, more a quirk of his mouth than anything, and Logan’s heart flutters in his chest.

Please be single, please be single, he prays to no one in particular as they sit down together.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Virgil asks, ensuring that he has marked the page (his bookmark advertises for a small, local independent bookshop) and closing it, setting it aside.

“Oh,” Logan says, then, because his actual job title is quite long and unwieldy, he says, “I’m an astrochemist.”

“An astrochemist,” Virgil repeats, sounding intrigued. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that. What do you do all day?”

Logan brightens. “Well,” he begins, and off he goes.

He knows he can be something of a rambler, especially when it comes to topics he’s passionate about, and especially when it comes to astrochemistry, a combination of his two most favorite scientific disciplines of study. It only takes someone five minutes of listening to him ramble to discover he’s passionate about his work and the discoveries they make.

But he can’t help it. It’s the best thing in the universe, what he gets to do—use radio telescopes to detect the electromagnetic radiation that’s given off by objects in space, establishing what substances are in space and in what quantities, which can potentially come to tell the story of how the universe was made. 

He gestures frequently with his hands, his voice rising in volume as he talks about the significance of his work, the knowledge he’s helped discover, the theories they have. He sweeps a wide, expansive gesture to the sky, and points in the approximate direction of the various planets and stars of study. All the while, Helena and Nikola move to chase each other in circles, and all the while, Virgil alternates between watching the dogs with a soft look, and then looking back to Logan with genuine interest shining in his eyes, along with something Logan can’t quite name—well, he did just meet this man, he supposes that isn’t unreasonable.

Whatever the look is, though, it increases the excitement of lecturing about something he loves to someone who wants to learn, something in his stomach fluttering, his heart beating loud in his ears.

He’s about to start explaining the use use theoretical models as well as computer visualizations to help them explain their observations in terms of known physical and chemical principles, and how it helps them study the origins of extraterrestrial bodies and the chemical processes that have shaped their present forms when he stops, abruptly aware of how long he has been talking.

“Goodness,” Logan says, suddenly shy, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just talked away a good portion of your afternoon. Um. That’s the—that’s the sum of what I do on a daily basis. Which is what you asked.”

Virgil has that same quirk to his mouth as before, and that look in his eyes that had made Logan so eager in the first place.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, I don’t drink coffee, ‘cause I have anxiety—Helena’s my emotional support dog, actually—”

Her stillness and calmness at the start of the whole debacle makes sense, then.

“—but, um. There’s a café nearby with outdoor seating, would you wanna maybe go... get a cup of marriage?”

Logan blinks at him, mouth agape.

“Excuse me?” He manages to squeak out.

Virgil blinks right back.

“Tea?” He clarifies, as if he was unsure if Logan heard him over the sound of other dogs and humans in the park. Goodness, there’s other dogs and people in the park, when did that happen? When did it get so crowded? “Would you want to maybe go get a cup of tea?”

“You,” Logan says, certain that his face is flaming red. “You said marriage.”

Virgil blushes then. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, and at last he says, “Marriage?”

“Yes,” Logan says. “You—you said marriage. I mean, you meant to say tea, but it—it came out marriage.”

Virgil’s brow furrows. He thinks for a few moments. Then it seems to click, and he buries his face into his hands.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Virgil groans. “It was nice to meet you and you’re very attractive and also you were so excited about your work so I have started liking you in a friendly way but also in a I’d like to date you way but I just proposed marriage barely an hour after we met, so I’m going to go fling myself into the creek so I never have to see you again, I can’t believe I said that.”

Helena has untangled herself from Nikola and is currently butting up against Virgil’s shins, seemingly in an attempt to get him to calm down.

“No! No,” Logan says hastily. “No. Oh, please don’t do that, um. Tea sounds great. Tea sounds lovely. I also think you’re very attractive and like you in both a friendly and romantic sense!”

Virgil peeks out from between his fingers. “Really?”

“Really,” Logan promises. “In fact, would you like to go get a cup of tea with me? Right now? As a date?”

Virgil grins at him weakly. “I guess a date sounds more reasonable than marriage right off the bat, doesn’t it?”

Logan smiles back at him, as encouragingly as he can. “It does. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Virgil’s grin strengthens. “Great! Okay. Okay. Um—follow me, then?”

They both pause to leash their dogs, sharing a bashful smile with each other, and Logan follows Virgil and Helena to the gate of the dog park.

Nikola’s strange sense of mischief has worn off; she’s trotting obediently at his side again. To think, he’d thought Nikola had just caused all this trouble for nothing, and now he’s going on a date with a handsome, intelligent man. 

He sneaks her a treat as they exit the park, on the way to the café just down the street.

⁂

logan’s dog, nikola virgil’s dog, helena

[sloppyplanetary]

Holding On to Fate, Chapter One

rating: mature (smut later), pairing: rick sanchez/morty smith, tags: memory loss, angst, summer knows, intergalactic road trip, content warnings: drinking, puking implied,

Morty groaned, face contorting into a grimace as he slowly woke up to a pounding headache. Sleep dragged at his eyelids, protesting the morning light shining through his bedroom window. He really didn't want to wake up- he was having such a good dream. The dream was already fading from his memory, but the warmth of a body, the feeling of security, and lingering rough fingers drawing patterns on his back remained, a much better alternative to Morty's current dry mouth and throbbing head.

But, all good things must come to an end. His mom opened his door and softly called his name.

"Morty? You awake?"

He rubbed his face and cracked open his eyes begrudgingly. "Barely." 

Beth's brow was pinched, face displaying a rare level of concern. She opened the door wider, and spoke quietly. "Hey, if you want to take today off from school, you can." She paused, seeming to debate her next words. "You don't have to talk about it. But remember, I know how it feels." 

Morty held in a snort as she left the room. He doesn't remember much of anything that happened last night, but his hangover made it obvious. Of course she knows how it feels, with all the wine she drinks. 

Morty felt a wave of bitterness. It was nice of her to not bug him about school, but she didn't even question why her sixteen year old son got drunk last night. Wait- why did he get drunk? He tried to remember what happened yesterday, but was hit with a fresh wave of nausea, barely jerking out of his bed and into his bathroom on time. 

Fifteen minutes later, he padded downstairs with a freshly brushed mouth in search of advil. The family was seated at the kitchen table, and their conversation abruptly stopped as soon as he rounded the corner. They all looked up at him, Summer off of her phone. 

"W-what?" Morty demanded, his patience wearing thin from dealing with his pounding head.

Summer raised her eyebrows. "Surprised you're still here."

"Where else would I- would I be? Mom gave me the day off of school." He took a seat across from Summer, noticing for the first time how big the kitchen table was. Surely they didn't need that many chairs- it was only the four of them, after all.

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Beth hissing her name. Summer shot her a glare, and Jerry, sensing the rising tension, spoke up. 

"Well I, for one, am glad you're okay, you’re doing okay. Have some pancakes,” he said, gesturing to the stack on the table.

Morty glanced between Beth and Summer, who were still having an argument through facial expressions only, but he was too tired to deal with this. He grabbed a few pancakes and started eating them, tuning out the room. His mind wandered back to yesterday, trying to grab onto the last thing he remembered, but his head still hurt too much. Suddenly, the chair next to him being empty made him uneasy. He really just wanted to go lay back down and nap. Sighing, he pushed his half-eaten plate away and stood up.

“Wait,” Beth said. She went to the kitchen and returned with a blue gatorade and two small pills, holding it out to him. “Take these and drink this, it’ll help.”

Morty stared at it, a pit in his stomach telling him not to drink it, the color making his head swim worse. “Do we have any other flavors?”

Beth retracted her hand in surprise. “This is your favorite type. It has been for years.”

“Sometimes thing just- they just change,” Morty replied with a shrug.

Beth nodded and switched it out for a purple one. This time, Morty accepted it, and chugged half of it in one go. “Thanks, Mom. I’m going back to bed.” He slowly made his way back up the stairs, pulled his curtains shut, and fell into bed, only to land on something hard. He shook his blanket out to discover a strange small metal flask, the sight of which triggered another throb of his head. The empty flask got tossed across the room into the dirty clothes pile, and Morty finally laid down, sleep quickly reclaiming him.

*****

Morty still couldn’t remember what happened that day, and it made him a bit uneasy, but he wrote it off as getting black-out drunk. His headache faded, and he was back at school, going through the classes on rote. His nights were spent playing video games and watching t.v., but the feeling that something was missing from his routine lingered each night as he tried to sleep. Sleep was hard to come by, and his dreams kept repeating, fading as soon as he woke up but leaving those same feelings of comfort.

Summer was back to normal, Jerry was Jerry (albeit seeming happier for some reason), but Beth seemed like she was constantly tip-toeing around Morty. Her bottles of wine still made appearances at night, and occasionally, Morty would be the cause of an abrupt conversation end just by showing up in the room. It was frustrating, but he tried to ignore it.

One night, Beth cornered him, already a few glasses of wine in. "Listen, I know you don't want to talk about Rick leaving, but it hurt me too. At least he told you to your face, instead of leaving a note."

"What? W-who?" Morty asked, suddenly lightheaded.

Beth just laughed, an airy laugh that felt out of place. "Right. 'Just don't think about it'." She patted his head and walked off, still giggling.

Morty shook his head and retreated to his room. Beth's confusing behavior was worrying him a bit, and he had no clue who she was talking about, but his recurring minor headaches were worrying him more at the moment. It seems like they randomly come and go, without any obvious reason, and he was sick of it.

As he sat on his bed, his eyes landed across the room on the strange silver flask he found in his bed. His headache worsened, but this time he was angry, and stomped across the room the grab the stupid thing. He jerked it up and a splash sounded- it wasn't completely empty like he thought it was.

Curiously, he screwed open and sniffed it. It didn't smell like any alcohol he's ever smelled before, or anything familiar at all, really. It smelled like a thousand things that he's smelled before but couldn't identify now, even though he knew he hadn't. His head throbbed, but he didn't care. He had to taste it

Morty pressed his tongue to the opening and tilted it up, just looking for a drop. He quickly moved his tongue and chugged the rest of the flask when liquid practically melted on his tongue, tasting sweet and warm and comforting and almost immediately making his head stop pounding. He smiled, feeling at ease for the first time in two weeks, and laid on his pillow, empty flask in hand.

*****

Last night after the flask incident he actually got a full amount of sleep, and was staying after school in the library today, when Jessica approached him.

“Hey, Morty,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, J-Jessica! Hi.” Morty shut his book and stood up, waving at her. Maybe it was just a part of getting older, but recently, he hadn’t been getting the same waves of butterflies in his stomach that he used to get any time she came near. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’m free tomorrow, and that new science fiction movie is coming out, and I know you're like, into that stuff."

Morty nodded, confused, not remembering when he'd given her that assumption but rolling with it.

"So anyway, me and a bunch of friends are going to it, and we wanted to invite you."

A weird feeling spread through his body. It wasn't the same giddy anticipation he would've gotten a year ago, and the change threw him off. Did his crush just… go away?

"Earth to Morty," Jessica prompted.

"Haha, sorry, was trying to- to remember if I had something planned for-for tomorrow or not," Morty lied. "But I don't, so, sounds good!"

"Alright, cool! Well, I have your number, so I'll text you the deets later."

"You do?" Morty asked.

Jessica looked at him strangely. "Yeah, don't you remember that whole Healthy Morty situation?"

He didn't, but didn't want to make Jessica think he was dumb, so he nodded and laughed. "Oh yeah, that's good then! Yeah, just call- just text me whenever. Bye!" 

She waved and left the library. Morty's smile faded as she disappeared out of sight. Healthy Morty? Sci-fi enthusiast? Beth avoiding him, her saying something about someone named Rick, the strange flask, whatever Summer was going to say on that first day before she got cut off- his growing feeling of unease over the past two weeks peaked, leaving only one conclusion.

Something was wrong. Something was missing from his memories, and Beth knew what it was. Probably Summer, too. Jerry was debatable, but Morty figured his best bet was to ask Summer first. 

He grabbed his bag and nearly ran out of the library, eager to get answers.

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

Teenage Dreams

The one where someone disrespects Emily and Jack remedies it by punching them in the face.

Read on AO3

Emily was a great Mom.

Despite the fact that they weren't related by blood, she was the only mom he truly ever know. He never really knew his actual Mom since she had died so long ago now. He had snippets of memories, barely threads now since it's been over a decade since she passed, and the stories that his Dad would tell him. About how they first met in the Pirates of Penzance play in high school, how she supported him through law school and the Academy, and how she loved strawberry ice cream and will always love him.

But Emily had always been around, on the sidelines of his soccer games and baseball tournaments, wiping his tears and kissing his bandages when he scraped his knee or slammed his finger in the car door. They had gotten married almost five years ago now and it was only in the last three that Jack had insisted on calling her Mom.

"You're the only Mom I have." He had said when she was stunned into silence as he tested the moniker on his lips on a Wednesday afternoon. He doesn't think he'd ever seen Emily cry so hard before.

The only thing Jack Hotchner didn't really like about his mom, is all the snide comments and half whispers among his friends whenever they came over. He was aware that Emily was beautiful, if the way his Dad always told her was any indication.

It was after school and Mom had come to pick him up after his first soccer practice, his friends quickly starting to elbow each other as his Mom made his way towards them, still dressed from work with her FBI badge hanging off the side of her blazer.

"Hi sweetie." Emily greets. She smiled brilliantly at all his friends, some of whom quickly averted their eyes at the sight of her.

"Hey Mom. These are my teammates." He says, introducing her to the gangly group of teenagers who were either outright staring or doing everything in their power to not make any eye contact.

"I just need to go grab my stuff from the locker room. I'll meet you at the car?" Emily nods, knowing that now that Jack was getting older he was starting to enter the phase where everything his parents did embarrassed him, even if it was just something as simple as picking him up from practice. If Emily were a betting woman, she would wager a large amount of money that Jack wanted her to park down the street so his friends never saw her.

If only she knew exactly why Jack was keeping his friends far away from her.

His friends immediately start whispering to themselves as Emily makes her way back towards the parking lot to wait for Jack.

"That's his mom?"

"Holy shit."

"That is a MILF if I've ever seen one." Jack is quick to shoot an angry glare at his teammate, who at the stern look in Jack's eye, had the decency to look embarrassed before they made their way into the locker room.

Jack could still hear the rumblings among his friends, catching the words sexy and red from the direction of the showers. He tries to block it out, but he can feel the tips of his ears go read as his teammates swapped remarks about their list of hottest Moms and somehow, his own makes it on the list.

He's still bright red when he hops into the car, Mom with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright, Jack? You're not catching a fever, are you?" She frowns, checking his temperature with the back of his hand as he swats her away.

"Mom, I'm fine. It's nothing." Emily tuts, Jack's tone toeing the boundary between upset and disrespectful.

"Jack, you know that as a profiler I can tell when you're lying to me, right?" She says, her eyebrow raised and Jack grumbles to himself. Emily smiles at the muttered words, but for her benefit, she asks him to speak up.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said yes ma'am, I am well-aware."

"And you also know that I won't force you to talk about anything unless you want to talk about it?"

A small smile breaks on Jack's lips. Mom never did push him to talk about anything, always just letting him know that she was available when he eventually did want to. Her only condition was that he would talk to her eventually, no matter how long that took. It was one of Jack's favorite things about her, since she could really calm his Dad down when he had that vein bulging from his neck whenever information was withheld from him.

"I'm aware of that too."

"As long as you know." She says, before turning up the radio and singing in an off-tune pitch to the latest pop song on the radio, clearly unaware of the actual lyrics or which key the song is supposed to be in.

Okay, maybe there were two things he didn't like about her.

--

The next time someone makes a comment about his Mom, they make it to Jack's face.

Dennis Smith was one of those kids you'd consider an outcast in school. Always dressed in torn jeans and black, followed by thin cronies who were too afraid to stand-up to the kids who picked on them so they ended up hiding behind a larger bully. He had been taunting Elliot, Jack's lab partner, for the past three weeks. Elliot had run into class that day, his shirt torn and bag half-opened as he rushed to sit next to Jack.

"Dude, what happened?" Jack asked when he spotted the torn pocket and the hastily stuffed belongings in his backpack. Some of his books were wet and if Jack had to guess, they had roughed him up in the boy's bathroom.

"Dennis." Elliot just mumbles, pulling out his notebook and cursing when he realizes that they took his wallet.

No one was going to pick on his friends if he could do something about it.

At least, that's what his Dad taught him.

So when Chemistry ends, he stalks Dennis and finds him bent over a water fountain, his friends chatting away while leaning on the locker next to him. Jack reaches over and taps him on the shoulder, a bewildered expression on Dennis' face.

"What do you want, Hotchner?" He spit out, puffing his chest to make him seem bigger than he actually was. Dennis didn't like him, since he was one of the only ones who wasn't scared of the bully. Jack found it hard to be scared of him, considering the fact that both of his parents were in the FBI and dealt with much scarier things than insecure teenage boys with an anger issue.

Jack crosses his arms, Elliot hiding behind him as he stares Dennis down.

"What's your problem with Elliot?" He asks flatly, interested in getting to the bottom of this. The hallway slowly starts to flood with students exiting their classes and the commotion causes a small crowd to form. In the corner of his eye, Jack can see cellphones being pulled out and aimed right at them.

"My problem is that little pipsqueak told Ms. Gardner that I was cheating." The bully stares directly at Elliot, who cowers further behind Jack despite the fact that Jack was only a few inches taller than him.

"But you were cheating."

"Well, if he learned to mind his own business, then maybe we wouldn't pick on him so much." Jack sizes Dennis up - he notices the muddy state of his shoes and pants that dangle just above his ankles, clearly too short for him. He smells faintly of body odor and some form of energy drink and if Jack had to guess, no one was providing him parental supervision at home.

He was angry, and had no one to direct that anger towards except for a student who was just doing his due diligence.

"Look, Dennis. I get it - your parents don't spend enough time with you, they leave you alone a lot, and you're angry about it. Can't you find something better to do with your time? Like actually studying so you don't need to cheat?"

Dennis flushes bright red and Jack turns and motions for Elliot to follow him. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop them from bullying Elliot. It's only then that he hears what Dennis mutters under his breath.

"Not all of us have a hot ass stepmom to tend to our every need. If I had a stepmom like that-"

Jack's fist connects with his nose, his knuckles flashing in pain at the contact. He feels a white hot rage spark under his skin, directed at anyone who would think to badmouth his family. The crowd gasps as Dennis falls to the floor, clutching his nose and yelping in pain. Jack flexes his knuckles and winces at the dull ache that settled in his joints. He freezes when he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

"Jack Hotchner!" Jack's eyes close and hopes that it isn't who he thinks it is.

He plasters a smile on his face and turns around, hiding his swollen hand behind his back.

"Hi Principal Gibbons."

--

"You are grounded for at least three months." Aaron says, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. It was just his luck that his Dad would be the one to pick him up. Apparently, Mom was off on a case with the BAU and Jack had a feeling she would be more understanding of him breaking Dennis' nose after fifth period.

After all, she was the one who signed him up for self-defense classes.

"What were you thinking Jack? Breaking a kid's nose?" His Dad had been furious upon arriving at the Principal's office. To the normal outsider, he looked calm, but Jack knew the fury that lay underneath. Dad had an excellent poker face and he managed to keep his anger under wraps until they got back into the car.

"He was being a dick."

"Language." His Dad warns and Jack sighs, knowing that swearing probably wasn't going to save him from the thin ice he was already on.

"Look, he was bullying my friend Elliot and I stood up to him."

"So, instead of talking it out, you punched him." Aaron says in disbelief and Jack shakes his head in frustration.

"No, I told him that his parents weren't around and that he was angry, so instead of picking on Elliot, he should just study."

There's a beat of silence.

"You profiled him?" Aaron curses the pride that blooms at the realization, not wanting Jack to get off that easy. After all, he did get suspended for three days and had to visit the school counselor with Dennis upon his return for 'mediation'.

"I did. Then I walked away."

"Then why did you punch him?"

"Because he said something about Emily." Jack's arms cross, his gaze out the window and Aaron sighs. He had been ecstatic when Emily came to him with tears in her eyes because Jack wanted to start calling her Mom. It was a decision that Aaron always left entirely up to Jack, not wanting to force him into feeling like they were replacing Haley since they were getting married. She had always been perfectly fine at being called Emily, not wanting to infringe on Jack's view of Haley. Jack only reverted back to calling her 'Emily' when he wanted to distinguish Emily and Haley.

Aaron lets the silence sit for a minute, his anger deflating. "What did he say?" He eventually asks.

"That not everyone had a hot ass stepmom to tend to their every need."

A different flash of anger runs through Aaron, his grip around the steering wheel tightening a little bit and his knuckles flashing white.

"That's why I punched him. I don't want anyone to talk about Mom like that."

Aaron lets out a breath, the last of his anger dissipating with Jack's words. He had always taught Jack to stand-up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves and he did just that. He stood up for Elliot and he stood up for Emily as well, not tolerating any disrespect for the people he cared about.

"Hot ass stepmom?" Aaron asks, a curious eyebrow raised.

"Oh Dad, you have no idea."

--

Emily comes back home to the angry marks on Jack's hand settling into purple and yellow bruises.

"You did what?"

"He punched a kid at school. He'll be suspended until tomorrow." Emily crossed her arms, disappointment in her expression. "Did this kid attempt to hit you first?"

Jack shook his head, hung low from the stare his Mom was baring into him. Aaron chuckles, rescuing Jack from what he is sure is a tongue lashing with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.

"He was actually defending a friend." Mom's stance softens ever so slightly and eventually, she uncrosses her arms and sighs.

"As long as it was for the right reasons. But I still don't condone the violence and you're grounded until next week." Jack nods, knowing that it was a lenient punishment considering he spent the last month grounded because he had snuck out to see a girl.

Later, when Jack is in bed, Aaron tells Emily the true reason why he had gotten in trouble. Her heart swells with pride and an absolute adoration for the boy she's watched grow up and felt honored that he would defend her from his peers.

"Hot ass stepmom, huh?" She teases as Aaron bristles. She loved that even after years together, he still got jealous. Many cops and detectives have been the end of the Hotchner glare when he caught them checking her out and somehow, it doesn't surprise her that a few harmless teenage crushes would cause his heckles to rise.

"Oh sweetheart." She coos, snaking her arms around his neck as his hands land on her hips. She doesn't miss the way his grip is just a little tighter and giggles as he grunts in acknowledgement.

"You don't need to worry about a bunch of teenage boys stealing me away."

"Who says I'm worried?"

Emily just laughs, smoothing the frown on his forehead.

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

--

Later that week, when Jack's friends come over before they head to the high school football game, Emily comes home from her run. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, her sweat slick on her skin and her running shorts hugging her behind tightly. Aaron walks into the living room to greet her to see two pairs of eyes glued to Emily's form as she walks into the kitchen to get some water.

He throws them a death glare and doesn't fight the smirk on his face when Emily presses a kiss to his lips in greeting.

--

[kasey-writes-stuff]

hi can u do a sap x reader where the reader is streaming or doing something on their computer and sap comes in w a ler mood and starts wrecking them

Sorry this took so long I hope you enjoy it!

Minecraft challenge

You were about an hour into stream when suddenly you hear a knock on your bedroom door, you mute and turn your camera off for a second to tell them to come in and the door opens to reveal your best friend sapnap!

“Oh hey sap what’s up?” He smiles softly at you “hi y/n! Well not much it’s just I’m in a bit of a mood and Dream and George are out shopping and Karl Quackity don’t get here until tomorrow so that leaves you to help me with my mood!” You blushed softly immediately understanding what he meant “but sap I’m streaming right now” he smirks softly “that’s fine that’s fine I mean as long as you’re okay with it I can just wreck you on stream right?” You blush even more at the thought of thousands of people seeing you get wrecked live I mean sure during Q&A’s with the boys they had seen you get tickled a little bit here and there but a full wrecking? You weren’t too sure about that… “I uh… I don’t know can we find some way to make it not obvious that you’re just wrecking me out of nowhere like can you come play Minecraft with me for a bit and then maybe accidentally tickle me or something at one point which leads to you wrecking me? Ya know just so it’s not quite as flustering and embarrassing for me…” he smiles excitedly as he nods “yea yea yea that sounds great!”

You smile softly as you turn back to stream and Sapnap quickly grabs the spare chair pulling it up next to yours. You quickly unmute and turn your camera back on “sorry about that everyone but as you can see we now have a guest! Not a very good one but a guest nonetheless” you giggle softly teasing sapnap light heartedly, he scoffs in mock offense playfully poking you in the side making you squeak and jump “I think the reason I’m not a very good guest is because I am in fact the beat guest” he smirked softly looking proud as he says it, you roll your eyes softly a small smile on your lips as you gasp dramatically “You’re Quackity now?! Oh my gosh Quackity! I’ve been waiting so long!” His mouth gapes open as he says “oh that’s it! Come here you!” You giggle as you try and roll your chair back but he’s quick to stop it before you can get too far!

He slowly pulls it back into frame and then quickly begins squeezing at your sides, you squeal as you begin giggling “EEEP SAHhahahhahpppyyy!” He grime smugly “what’s wrong y/n? Why are you all giggly? Oh that’s right I’m tickling you and you’re really really ticklish aren’t you? Aweee” Your cheeks light up red as you shake your head “shahhappp plhehehahahssshehe” he smirks softly “awe does knowing you’re live make it all worse? Hmm does it make it more flustery?” You nod shyly and softly as you giggle, he pauses briefly before whispering “do you want me to stop or can I go on?” Your giggles slow to a stop and you shyly say “uhm well… I don’t really just want straight… ya know… on stream but maybe if we make it a challenge? Like maybe I have to complete Minecraft while you tickle me?”

He nods smiling “that sounds fun!” You nod softly “okay let’s go then” you adjust yourself and move back towards your desk “okay guys so uhm sapnap and me have came up with a little challenge…” you look towards sapnap to have him finish “so guys the challenge I’ve given y/n here is they have to complete Minecraft while being tickled! Uhm we didn’t discuss what happens if they win or lose but I guess I’ll leave that up to them?” You smile mischievously as an idea comes to mind “Okay guys if I win I get to do this to sapnap on his next stream! And if I lose then uhm sapnap gets to take over my next stream and do whatever he wants” sapnap nods “sounds good sounds good, okay you ready?”

You nod and begin loading up a new world, things start out good you immediately spawn in a village! The village has a black smith which definitely helps things! You immediately find a chest plate and two diamonds, along with plenty of hay bales outside of course, things were going good and you were just about to try and kill the iron golem when you felt sap’s finger tips creeping towards your armpits, you squeaked “eek! Sahapp dohohnntt” he smiles innocently “whaaattt this is the challenge so you can’t really tell me what to and what not to do…” luckily just before he began scribbling in the middles of your pits you were able to kill the iron golem.. he dropped three iron which wasn’t that best but you were able to at least make a bucket… you weren’t the best at speed running so this definitely was not gonna be a world record but you were having fun nonetheless! As his blunt nails began scribbling in the middle of your armpits you squealed as laughter poured out “EEP SHAHAHPPPYY NHHAHAHTTT THEHHERRRHEHHE IHIHITTSSS NHAHHATTT FAHAHAIHIHIRR!” He cooed softly “awe why not? Are you too ticklish here? Hmm is little y/n too ticklish in their little pitty witties?” You blush brightly it spreading to your ears and that makes him have a little mercy but also he just can’t resist the chance to tickle your ears!

He gently pulls his hands out of your armpits and begins gently scribbling at your ears you giggle squeakily but take a small breathe grateful for the break and to be able to get back to properly playing the game, you begin quickly caving and are very happy to quickly find enough diamonds for a diamond pick and diamond axe! You quickly begin building a nether portal and after making a quick shield you hop into the nether…. Everything goes surprisingly well! It doesn’t take too long and your out and on the way to the end portal!

Sap senses you getting close to beating the game and decides to teasingly up the anti… he spiders on your sides making you wiggle about and squeak as he nears your stomach “EEK SAP hahahahhaa plhehehheheagahhwsshehehe ihihimmm sohohoh cclohohsehehe” he shakes his head giggling “I know you are doofus that’s why I’m trying to make it harder! Do you really think I want to go through this?” You nod “yehehahha ihihih thihinnkk youuu dohoho!” He scoffs as he blushes lightly “I do not! So just hush and lose the game”

He gently spiders on your stomach making you squeal “EEEP!” Suddenly a Skelton comes out of no where and begins shooting you “SAP WAIT WAIT THERES A SKELTON!” He rolls his eyes light heartedly “well then kill it loser!” “Ihihih CAHAHnnnttt!” He giggles “well why not come on your supposed to be good at the game” you manage to kill the Skelton with only 3 hearts left and you quickly heal and finally make it to the end portal! He hears the familiar sound of the eyes being put in and quickly ups the anti, he begins vibrating on your stomach making you shriek as you begin laughing “aHaH SHAHAHPPY NOHOHO FRRIHIHICCKKK!” It takes everything in you to not immediately bring your arms down! He smirks “come on now darlin you can do this, look you only got three towers left!”

You groan through your laughter at him but your eyes widen as you somehow do manage to get the last three towers and in no time you have the dragon at half health, sapnaps eyes widen as he realizes he needs to go for the kill! He quickly begins squeezing your hips just as you manage to kill the dragon! You squeal as your loudest laughter yet pours out “EEEEPPP SSSHAHAHPPP SSHHHAAPPP IHIHIIHI WOHOHONNN YYOOUU CAHAHAHNNN SSSTOHHOHPPPP”

He looks up his eyes widen as he realizes you in deed did complete the game, he slows to a stop and you lock eyes with him and he understands what you mean.. He nods smiling as he gently runs a hand through your hair to help calm you as you giggle residually… He turns to the camera and says “Well guys I think me and Y/N are gonna end stream here I’m gonna help them settle down and get us some dinner! See you guys!”

Sap smiles as he swiftly picks you up, you cuddle into him your face pressing into his neck making him giggle and you apologize softly “sorry forgot about that” he shrugs softly as he places you on the couch “it’s okay, you just take a nap and I’ll make us some food” You nod sleepily and so with that it ends until he awakes you later for dinner and then after that you cuddle before each heading to bed

The end

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (13)

In Which There’s Cheese

Ao3 | FF.net

Trigger or Squick warning: Man has done some messed up stuff in the pursuit of perfect cheese. And what is cheese but moldy, rotten milk? This chapter contains some very foul and nasty descriptions of actual cheese that people eat. So if eating rotting food makes you uncomfortable, best skip to the end of this chapter.

(Spoiler: Plagg gives Lila really gross cheese. She eats it, and has to run out of the room to vomit.)

--

“—so the best way to level up is to get a skill up to 100, and then legendary it back down to 15, so then you can use the skill perks on another ability that’s harder to level up. That’s where I’m at right now. I’m on level 106 and trying to fill up all my skill trees by using smithing, speech, enchanting, lock picking, and blocking.” 

Day three of Lila’s torment, and there was presumably no end in sight. 

Had she known from the beginning that Adrien Agreste was this big of a nerd and completely socially inept, she wouldn’t have talked to him at all. 

Funny how people looked less attractive the more annoying they got. 

And she had tried. She had sincerely tried to get him to shut up. She told him, “I’m sorry Adrien, I’m just not that interested in this video game.” 

“Well, you’ve just never played it before! You should come over this weekend—no, actually, I think we should go to your place. When you aren’t grounded anymore. Your mom seemed to really like me!” 

Of course she did. Her mother likes anyone who’s a ‘good influence’ on her precious baby. And nothing like Paris’ golden boy to fill that bubble.

Her mom probably preferred that Adrien was so naïve and oblivious. 

The bell rang for lunch, and Lila was up and out of her seat without another word. She was tired of the games. Skyrim, Magic: The Gathering, and trying to salvage a friendship with the dumb blond. But Adrien usually ate lunch at home or with Marinette, at least he had been, so lunch was her time to recharge! She’d take her place in the throne room that was the cafeteria and have everyone’s attention. With an hour of that, she could certainly put up with whatever Adrien had to tell her the next half of the day. 

In the cafeteria, most seats were taken. The two open seats were at a table with Alya, Nino, and Marinette. Of course Lila wasn’t thrilled with Marinette, but she’d leave eventually, and someone else would hear her tales and come to sit with them. 

“Hey guys! Do you mind if I sit with you?” Lila smiled, all friendly-like. 

“Not at all, Lila, take a seat!” Alya welcomed. 

Marinette and Nino kept their poker faces as she sat down. 

“So Alya, I had this amazing idea for an article for the Ladyblog, and I bet I could get some quotes from Ladybug for it too.” 

“Or really?” Alya squealed. “That would be amazing! So what’s the idea?” 

“Basically—“ 

“WHO WANTS SOME CHEESE?!” Plagg sang as he took his spot in the last remaining seat, right next to Lila. 

She wanted to die. 

“Cheese?” Said Nino, intrigued. 

“Yeah! I have been dying to give you guys a cheese tasting, and wouldn’t you know it? All my best buds are all together! So it’s perfect!” 

Lila cautiously relaxed. Cheese tastings were just as fancy as wine tastings. Maybe this would be a break and a peek into Adrien’s refinement. She could handle this. 

“Okay, so for you three,” Plagg gestured to Nino, Alya, and Marinette, “I have some more...beginner cheeses. They’re still extremely tasty, but more mild for a less refined palette.” 

“You calling me unrefined?” Nino glared. 

“I see what you eat. And yes.” 

“Touché.” 

“And for you, Lila, you mentioned that two weeks ago, you had dinner with Wolfgang Puck himself. I assumed you could handle more advanced cheeses.” 

Advanced cheeses? “Oh, well, yes of course. I’ve done a few cheese tastings before. Maybe not with the same quality of cheeses as you have...” 

“Then this will be a walk in the park.” He unzipped the lunchbox he had brought with him, and handed out three orange cubes to the ‘beginners’. “Alright, so first, we have a whiskey cheddar.  Whiskey is fermented in oak barrels that can only be used once. So they’re sold to beer, coffee, and cheese makers. The cheese is stored in the barrels and the remnants of the whiskey seep in and give it almost a spicy flavor.” 

They all took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, humming in content. 

“Oh wow, I think I can taste the whiskey! That’s really good!” 

“I’d put this on crackers and eat a whole box! This is really good!” 

“I’m not a huge fan of cheddar,” stated Marinette, “but maybe I just haven’t been trying the right stuff, because this is awesome!” 

“I’m glad you like it!” Plagg beamed. “And for Lila,” he opened a container and a smell emanated immediately. It smelled like rotten armpit. “This is finely aged Limburger, aged to three months. It’s imperative that you take in the scent of the cheese first, before eating it. Don’t waft it, just breathe it in.”

Lila took the offered container, sparing it a withering glance before she inhaled. 

If her face could have melted off, it would have.

“It…smells like rotten feet.” 

“Ah yes, Brevibacterium linens. This is a smear-washed cheese that gets a fresh coating of bacteria that prevents mold and helps the maturing process. As a food connoisseur, you’re getting the peak time of maturity. I usually let it mature longer than this still, so it gets really runny, like camembert~…” At the very name, Plagg moaned in a way that was inappropriate for young ears. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got swept away in the moment. Oh right! Limburger, you eat it with your nose. Take another whiff!”

“I’m good.”

“Another whiff I say!”

Lila inhaled, and her whole body shuddered. 

“Perfect. Now you can eat it.” 

She popped the sample in her mouth, and swallowed quickly, shuddering the whole time. 

“Good?”

“Hmm mmm…”

“Oh! I forgot to mention, the bacteria that that cheese is smeared with is the same that grows on your feet, that’s what makes the cheese stink!”

Lila made a face of disgust and turned a little green.

“Great! Round two!” He placed little samples in front of the other three first. “Okay, so this is a little more advanced. This is scamorza, which is much like Mozzarella, but it has a distinct smokey flavor. I think it tastes kind of like wood fired pizza.” 

“It does!” Nino cried, savoring each little nibble. “Oh my god this is so good!” 

Alya took a bit of tomato out of her sandwich and ate that with the cheese. “Oh, that is just like wood fired pizza. I’d love to try this warm! You have to get more of this!”

Plagg grinned. “And you, Marinette?” 

Marinette was still chewing, and just nodded with closed eyes and a contented sigh. 

“Awesome! I personally think scamorza is too mild, but it’s still very good. So for Lila I have another advanced taste.” He took out another sealed container and popped the lid. The smell wasn’t as brutal as the Limburger, but it was still potent. “This is Casu Marzu, a Sardinian delicacy. So it should sound familiar to you, since you’re from Italy and all. It’s made from sheep’s milk. Oh! And it’s illegal, so this sample is from a ‘friend’ who will not be named.”

Lila held the container a little away from her face and peered at it with hesitation. Her lip curled up in disgust, before she gave Plagg an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Adrien. It looks like this cheese has gone bad.” And she pushed the container back towards him. 

He looked in it. “It looks fine to me. They’re alive. That’s a good thing.” 

“Adrien, those are maggots.” 

“Cheese fly maggots, to be exact,” he corrected. “They’re introduced to the cheese to help break down the fat in the milk.” He pushed the container back in front of her. “I mean, it’s not any more gross than escargot, or caviar, or grasshopper, or tequila worms, you know?”

She looked back at the worms, her lip trembling. “This is a delicacy?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t bring bad cheese in for a laugh.” He took out a spoon and scooped out a little cheese, worms and all, and spread it on a piece of flatbread. Then he ate it. “Ohhh that’s good!”

“I…” She cast one more look at the container and confessed, “I’m sorry Adrien. I just can’t do it. It’s too gross for me.”

“Oh,” said Plagg, with genuine sadness in his voice. “Okay I guess...anyone else want to try?” 

Marinette, who was always looking for a chance to show up Lila, offered up, “I’ll give it a try.” 

Plagg’s eyes widened with glee. “You will?!” 

“Sure. Even if it’s gross, I can say I tried it. Not everyday you get to eat illegal cheese. And you ate some, afterall.” 

“Yes! I promise it’ll be worth it! You just have to thoroughly chew it to kill the maggots.” 

Marinette scrunched up her nose. “Can I...kind of eat around the worms?” 

“You can try.” 

So to Marinette’s credit, she did eat some of the cheese, though it was picked through, and she scraped what she could off with a knife. Then she spread a little on a larger piece of bread, more bread than cheese obviously, then chewed her sample thoroughly. 

“Well?” Asked Plagg, bouncing in his seat. “I think it’s kind of like Camembert and Gorgonzola had a baby. A rotten, decaying baby.”

“Mmm hmmm.” Marinette nodded, her lips shut tight. Once she swallowed, she downed a huge swig of her water, swishing around in her mouth first. 

“That bad, huh?” Asked Alya. 

“No no, it actually tasted really really good. And I couldn’t feel the worms or anything. I just couldn’t get over the idea that they were there. You know?” 

“It’s scary!” Plagg assured. “I know it freaked me out when I was a kid, but if it wasn’t worth it, they wouldn’t make it!” 

“You’re wicked brave, Marinette.” Nino patted her on the back. 

She chuckled. “Alright. Do you have any more samples so I can cleanse my palette?” 

“Oh yep! Last round!” He set out three more samples. “So this is Cantal. It’s from Cantal, France, obviously. And it’s often thought of as a dessert cheese, as it’s got a sort of spicy sweet taste, or like hazelnuts. Oh, and you’ll want to eat it with these apple slices. This is a young wheel, only two months old.” 

Contented hums filled the air as the three munched on the sweet, buttery, fruity delight. 

Plagg felt extremely pleased that he convinced Adrien’s friends to eat cheese. And he was especially proud of Marinette for eating the best, most amazing cheese of all time. If casu marzu wasn’t an absolute pain to get ahold of, and if it were more portable, he’d demand Adrien to get him that instead of Camembert. 

But, as it was, they had to go with more convenient cheeses. 

“I think I’m all cheesed out...” said Lila. 

“Dude, you only actually had one sample. You can’t bow out now!” 

At this point, especially after the maggots, a small crowd had assembled around the table to observe the tasting. And if anyone would cave under peer pressure, it was Lila. 

“Well, I suppose I could try one more...” 

“Perfect! Because this last sample is really special!” He placed the little white flecked square in front of her. “This is my take on pepper jack cheese.” 

“Wait, you made this?” She asked. 

“Yep! I figured that if I love eating cheese so much, I should make my own!” 

“So what’s it made of?” Lila asked, hesitant. 

“You have to guess! I want to see if you can guess the milk and the pepper. It’s part cow milk, obviously, but I wanted a different flavor that you don’t get with most semi hard cheeses.” 

“And there’s no bugs in it?” 

Plagg laughed. “Nope, no bugs!” 

Feeling a bit better, Lila brought the sample up to her mouth. The smell was subtle, a little spicy, a little milky. Not at all like the last two. 

She bit the sample in half, and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s...kind of sweet...but the spice is...” she blinked a few times, her face turning red and eyes watering. “It’s hot. It’s really hot!” She ate the other half, and then regretted it. “Ugh! I shouldn’t have done that!” She swallowed and downed her little carton of milk, but the heat wouldn’t leave. It kept getting worse and worse! 

“What did you put in there?! What was that?!” 

Plagg looked confused. “It’s really that spicy?” 

“My mouth hurts!! It hurts to talk!” 

“All it is is Carolina Reaper and Breast Milk.” 

Lila was up and out like a bolt, running to the bathroom to hurl. 

Marinette likewise, had to leave the room, as her uproarious laughing at Lila’s suffering would have looked really bad. 

—

(If you were looking for the cheese free section of the chapter, this is it!)

Lila didn’t return to class immediately. In fact, it was two periods later when she finally returned. Her face was flushed and her eyes bloodshot, and she had a wet spot on her shirt. Before everyone settled in, she claimed Adrien’s old seat, right up front. 

“Sorry,” she croaked, her voice hoarse after retching so much. “Vomiting usually exacerbates my tinnitus. I hope you don’t mind if I sit up front, Adrien.” 

Nino answered, “oh dude, you can have my spot. That way you and Adrien can still sit together!” 

Lila’s eyes widened slightly in horror, but before she could protest, Alya slid into the spare seat. She was unfortunately not in on the plan, and was picking up all the blatant body language Plagg was ignoring. “I think Lila needs a little girl time, after her rough lunchtime experience.”

Marinette silently scooted over into Alya’s spot, so that Plagg could sit right behind Lila. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. Nino gave them both a silent thumbs up and took the open spot in the back of the room.

Lila let out a sigh of relief. 

“You okay, girl?” Alya asked.

“Yeah.” She said shortly. Lila was done with the day. She would have gone home if she thought her mom would believe the cheese story, but as it was, she was already in hot water. She just needed to make it through the last two periods, and she’d be okay. Maybe she could convince her mom that she was sick and stay home tomorrow? I would be worth a try. She just needed some time away from Adrien. He was much too much. 

As if reading her mind, Plagg leaned forward in his seat and spoke softly to her. “So I wanted to tell you about Stalhrim. It’s a material they added in the DLC, and you can learn how to craft with it, but it’s triggered by a quest. The first time I played the game, the person who was supposed to give the quest was killed by a lurker. Hold on, let me backup, so there are these huge monoliths call Standing Stones, and they all give you special abilities, like the Steed Stone let’s you carry things and the Apprentice Stone lets you learn magic quicker—“ 

As he talked, Lila’s fingers curled into the surface of the desk. His words didn’t even make any sense anymore, it was just this droning sound that wouldn’t stop. 

“So in the DLC, the stones are totally different, right? And there’s this bad dude named Miraack and he’s also a Dragonborn. You remember what a Dragonborn is, right? Except this one is bad and he’s brainwashing the people on the island of Solstheim. Oh right, the whole DLC takes place on a separate island—“ 

The whole two weeks had been a camel. And each little rant or pushed boundary Adrien forced was another piece of straw piling up. Just then, it was like that fragile spine snapped, and something in Lila went from ‘playing the long game’ to ‘MURDER’.

“SHUT UP!” Lila screamed, pounding her fists on the table. “OH MY GOD JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!” She stood and whirled around to glare at him. “Adrien, you are the single most obnoxious person I have ever met! You just don’t know when to shut up! Are you dense? Are you retarded? How can you not see that I literally cannot give a flying eff about anything you say?! I was trying to be your friend because I thought it would be an easy way to fame. Then I felt sorry for you because of how awkward you are. Now? It’s not worth it. It’s not worth pretending to think you’re interesting when you aren’t. It’s not worth trying to ease back and deal with everyone wondering what happened. Everyone in class would wonder why we weren’t talking anymore, and I’d have to come up with more lies to get away from you, and I just don’t want to deal with that! You’re not worth it, okay? You are so selfish and annoying! Is this why your dad kept you home schooled all your life? Because he needs to lock you right back up! You are a menace!” She swung back around for a moment to gather her belongings. “I can’t even be in the same room as you anymore. I’m so done with you and your stupid rants about stupid video games! And what kind of weirdo is that obsessed with cheese?! You ate maggots for Christ sake! You’re disgusting! If you weren’t attractive, I bet your father would have regretted having you, if he hasn’t already!” She moved to the door quickly. “I’m asking to change classes, effective immediately. I suggest everyone run while you still can!” Then she caught Marinette’s eye. “Listen, I dislike you almost as much as him, but you don’t want him, Marinette. He’s an absolute freak. Look at him! He’s wearing that stupid ramen themed sweat suit! You know what? Forget it! I’m out!” And she left, slamming the door behind her. 

No one had the nerve to speak after she left. It was just too big of a can of worms, no one wanted to open it. 

The silence was broken by a high pitched whine, followed by a sob. 

Though Marinette knew it was Plagg faking it, the sight of tears on Adrien’s face made her heart hurt. 

“Oh Adrien...” 

“You still like me, right Marinette?” He blubbered. 

She hugged him. “Of course, Adrien. I love you.” 

That seemed to be the words to break the spell and the classmates descended on him like vultures. 

“You’re not annoying, Adrien!” Someone protested. 

“You’re the coolest!” 

“I love talking video games with you!” 

“That cheese testing was really fun!” 

“Who cares if you struggle with social cues? We all do! You do better than most, even for being homeschooled!” 

“Lila admitted she was in the friendship for fame, her opinion doesn’t matter!” 

Marinette whispered in his ear. “Nicely done, but I was not expecting that blow up.” 

“Thanks, I was hoping she’d crack soon. That was just as violent as I had expected of her.” 

“You okay? Those look like genuine tears.” 

Plagg wiped his face as the rest of the class started to back off. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just hurts to hear someone be so cruel to my kitten.” 

He glanced at the ring, hoping to see the final pad gone, and the one minute wait to switch back initiated. 

But alas, no. The third pad was still there. 

Lila wasn’t finished yet.

[commanderserwin]

just like him.

⤅ pairings: erwin smith x reader

⤅ genre: lil angst? and fluff!

⤅ count: 4.3k

⤅ request: Okay i kno now!! Can I request for an Erwin x Reader fic wherein Erwin didn't know he have a son (a carbon copy of him!!) with reader 'coz she hide it since she wants Erwin to focus on his dream and humanity. But one day Erwin knew about his son and confronted reader about it! Hahahahha its still about erwin tho well im called erwin simp anon for a reasoooooon!!!😂😂 Also i imagine levi be like "I didnt kno your pull out game is that weak" 😂😂😂 fuhck

⤅ a/n: for my erwin simp,,, yesh,,, here you go !!! i hope u like it!!!!!! mwa mwa mwa!! ♡♡♡

If you were being honest with yourself, mornings before were something of a rarity to you. Mornings were the evenings— the hours when you will be walking home, quiet footsteps through the creaking floorboards in the apartment building, the hurried fishing for the keys as you craved for your bed. Two years after, mornings were filled with tears and frustration as you listened to the baby cry from the other room, while you cried yourself because all you want is sleep. Still, you flung yourself off of the bed, lighting a candle instinctively as you padded towards the crib where the baby immediately stopped crying at the sight of you. 

Caz would coo at the feeling of your knuckles rubbing him on the cheeks while he nibbled on his fingers, his saliva getting everywhere on his pajamas but it didn’t matter to you. His blue eyes would calm you down, the tears of frustration gone as he babbled, his arms reaching out for you. He only wanted to be held, and you did so. You heaved him up, settling on the chair against the wall as you leaned on it. Caz held on to your shirt, immediately closing his eyes as he went to sleep holding you. 

Now, mornings were made for you chasing around that rascal as he ran for his life around the little apartment. 

Caz run his energy around, refusing to put on a shirt despite the great morning ahead. It was going to town day. He’s getting bigger, his clothes are getting smaller, his mittens are getting ragged, and his appetite is getting bigger as the days goes on. His heaving pants would be heard around the apartment as he finally settled on the small pile of toys. 

You knelt down in front of him, unfolding his tiny shirt before him, as he watched with a toothy smile. Caz avoided your attempts of holding him, but he still clutched on your shirt just like before. And with that, you have successfully clothed your son. 

“Fruits, new shirt, new scissors,” you listed as you inspected Caz’s long bangs as it covered his eyes. “Town day.”

“... day,” he repeated, snaking out of your hold as he played. 

“Town day, Caz,” you rubbed on his cheeks as he minded his own business playing with the same toys you have gotten him over the two years. He babbled as he played, completely tuning you out while you brushed your trousers clean as you stood up. “We’ll go to town, let me just clean up. I’ll get you a new toy.”

Caz squeal loudly at the mentioned of toy, making you tear up as you felt sorry for having him leave him to the same toys ever since. “Maybe two.”

When he didn’t answer, you bent down again to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back.” 

The way to your room, or whenever you would be alone with yourself, you didn’t miss to think about him. 

Two years before, it was a simple night-out as you treated yourself over a drink or two at the secluded bar deep into town. You weren’t expecting people because as much as you would like to scream about a promotion, all you want to do is rejoice quietly as your hard work finally got you a raise. 

You weren’t expecting somebody to sit beside you, their voice low as they asked for a glass. You weren’t expecting to catch their attention as he introduced himself to you, his blue eyes capturing the way the waves in your heart crashed into yours, making your mouth run dry just at the sight of him. You weren’t expecting for him to talk to you all night, ideas bouncing all over, until he eventually made sure you got home safe as he walked you home. 

But what could a little tea as a way to say thanks would end up? 

It was the bodies tangled together, your legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you up against the door, his tongue entering yours, and like a hazy memory— it was the chests rising together, as he snuggled into the crook of your neck as he laid on top of you, riding out both of yours highs in a bliss while he whispered his name for the first time. 

“Erwin,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the spot just below your ear, “Smith.”

After that, you expected for him to know his way out— but he stayed. He danced his calloused fingers over your skin, memorizing every part of you as he whispered about his days and days before that. He would peck your lips, while he listened to you mumble about yours. His eyes captured yours so intently that you felt you would drown immediately. The night felt so surreal that it feels like you’ve known him since forever as he anchored you to sleep, to only wake up with a half-written letter of his name and where he was. 

The Survey Corps. 

As brave as he was to be soldier, the complete opposite is you being the absolute coward. 

“Erwin,” you whispered against the mirror as you buttoned up your blouse, glancing at his letter while you had it tucked on the edge of the mirror. 

Caz’s hard footsteps as he walked up the stairs snapped you out of your memories as the toddler helped himself stand up with the help of the door, as his blue eyes anchored you to reality. The same eyes and hair— of what haunted your past. Erwin Smith. 

“My darling,” you sighed as you heaved him up against your hip, as he clutched on your shirt, making your way outside of the apartment. “Town day? Right, Caz?”

Erwin would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t looking for you. 

He has been. 

Always at the same bar— but always leaving empty handed with no trace of you. At one point, he fought with himself if he should retrace his steps that would lead him to your apartment. When he couldn’t get over you, still, he found the front of your apartment building yet he left empty-handed because you don’t live them anymore. Among the number of people who are traveling, he couldn’t oversee everybody else. 

Then his work has gotten demanding, more in need of him. Papers upon papers, ink bottles upon bottles, burnt out candles on his desk, made you just a sliver on his memory. Still, he has never craved so much for somebody else’s touch other than yours. He has never ached to hear somebody else’s voice but yours. 

Erwin could still remember the night like it was yesterday. He was so unaware of the feeling that pools in his stomach, as his heart beat faster while you spoke softly against the night, turning your head every once in a while as the moonlight shone through your thin carpets, painting over you. 

Despite being part of his memory, you eventually got pushed to the end, locking the memory of you as he focused on his work. 

Erwin walked aimlessly around town, making stops at the stalls where he thinks of what to buy. He isn’t looking for much, he just found himself wanting to go for a walk as he was too cooped in his office, his mind aching for a change of scenery. He watched the people walk, the children chasing each other as their screams filled the plaza with never ending glee. 

“Oh,” Erwin huffed as he felt somebody bump into his... leg. He felt their small hands clutch on to his leg as he watched the toddler help himself up. The little boy looked up, his eyes matching his own eyes, as he felt eerie about the situation. “What’s your name?”

The little boy only craned his neck up, moving backwards a little to see more of the tall man. Erwin did the child courtesy as he bent down, offering the boy a hand to shake. The boy only shook his finger, his whole hand clasped on Erwin’s as they locked eyes again. Erwin smiled at the strength of the kid’s grip on his finger as he asked, “Are you lost?”

“Caz.”

“Caz?”

“Me.”

“Your name is Caz,” Erwin said, brushing the kid’s pants as he stood up, holding the the little kid’s hand. “Where is your mother?”

They both stood there, looking at the people walking by, waiting for somebody to take the little kid. Erwin couldn’t help but glance down every so often to see the eerie similarities between the two of them. He knows that he isn’t the only man with blonde hair and blue eyes, but something about this child made the whole thing so familiar. Erwin looked down again, surprised that the kid was looking up— smiling, as he moved closer to Erwin’s leg. It felt too familiar, and he didn’t want to think of that one possibility because it will make him lose his mind. 

A child? His child? Or was it just a child who looks so much like him? 

It was a simple mistake. One look away from Caz and he’s off to run around the plaza, his laughter fading out while you focused on fishing out the wallet from your purse to see if you brought it with you. Your bag was filled with Caz’s toys because you know when it’s town day he wants to walk around with one toy, and one of his small towels because it’ll get hotter as the day goes by and you don’t want him sweaty, and one or two little pieces of bread just in case he gets hungry because he didn’t eat— and it makes you cry because you only looked away for one damned second and he is gone. 

“Caz?” You shouted, hurriedly walking towards the plaza where children were running around. “Caz!” 

You quickly assessed the children as you walked, but none of them were Caz. He’s blonde for fuck’s sake, and he’s wearing a dark blue sweater and he’s probably scared because he doesn’t like strangers and he could be crying— but, oh. 

“Oh! Caz!” You ran towards him, knowing from the back of his head that it was him because he stands a different way and your feet immediately rushes to him because you know it was him, and you’re correct. 

“I’m so sorry! I only looked away, and he was gone, and I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, are you okay?” You turned Caz around by the shoulders as he only smiled in response, letting go of the person’s hand as he clutched on your shirt, snuggling to the crook of your neck, while you brushed his hair. You glanced up to the man in a hurry, shame eating you, feeling worst. “Thank you! I… I only looked for one second, I… thank you.” 

Erwin couldn’t feel the ground underneath him as he glanced at the woman clutching the kid before him. It’s… 

“It’s you.”

You stopped brushing Caz’s back, finally hearing the person speak. How could you forget about that voice? You glanced up, sighing deeply as you looked at the man. Him. How could you forget about him?

“Erwin,” you whispered, standing up to heave Caz up to your hip. Erwin stared at the boy in your arms, then at yours. You watched his mouth open and close, while you nodded. 

Erwin moved a little closer, offering his hand against towards Caz with wonder if he… “Is he my son?” 

“His name is Caz,” you breathed shakily, nodding as you bounced him in your arms. You watched how Caz clutched Erwin’s hand, smiling once more. “He’s two years old… I… We…” 

“That night,” Erwin whispered, letting go of Caz’s hand as he stared at you. He doesn’t understand— he does understand, but why was it kept a secret. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,” you licked your lips, stepping backwards as you placed Caz back on his feet. You couldn’t meet Erwin’s blue eyes or else you’ll break down because this wasn’t how you wanted him to know. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to know. But you were thankful that it did happen— you were just unsure of how he’ll react. “I’m sorry.” 

“You could have told me,” Erwin ruffled Caz’s hair, smiling down at the boy. His smile went away when he looked at you. “I left you where I was and my name.”

“I know,” you whispered, clearing your throat. “I was scared.” 

Erwin understood. He was also scared. He is scared. He came to walk down the plaza with nothing but to just walk— and not to come back as a father. He realized why it was so familiar with Caz and how the kid stuck close to him because he might’ve understood too. 

Erwin nodded, fiddling with his hands. He has finally found you. And perhaps, he wasn’t meaning to see you like this, it was better than not seeing you ever. He looked at you, really looked at you, feeling his own mind click and heart thump faster. You must’ve been scared, taking care of him. You must’ve been tired— and he realized that by the bags under your eyes despite your smile as you cooed at his son. His. 

“Is it too late?” Erwin asked, patting Caz’s back to make him look at him. He watched you raise a brow, protectively turning around as you listened. “I want to be there.” 

“It will be nice for him to grow up with a father,” you said quietly. 

“Okay,” Erwin nodded, offering a hand to you. He doesn’t know why he did it, but he felt enormous pride in himself when you shook his hand. And it was like he’s back two years ago. 

How could he ever forget about you. 

He looked for you everywhere and you’re finally right before his eyes, plus one. 

Erwin smiled, loosening his shirt by the collar as he pointed towards town. There must be a reason why you were here, so he assumed you have to do something. 

“Should I join— may I join you two?” He asked, placing his hands inside his pockets as you nodded. 

“Town day-,”

“Town day!” Caz repeated, squealing as he jumped on his feet. 

“Town day,” you said, brushing Caz’s hair. “We were going to get some fruits, a new shirt for him, scissors to get his hair cut, and a toy. Some mittens too.” 

Erwin followed your steps beside him, watching you heave Caz up multiple times as you stopped by a few stalls to get what you needed. He stopped behind you, playing with Caz from behind as he reached for him multiple times— but you held on to him tightly. Caz smiled and babbled, while Erwin wiped his saliva away to not let it drop to your neck and shirt. 

“I’m just going to buy apples,” you turned around, catching Erwin in an act as he smiled widely. He cleared his throat, straightening himself as he wiped his hands on his shirt. He blushed slightly, while you only chuckled softly in return, “I’ll be back.” 

“Can I hold him?” 

You turned around, looking back at Caz and Erwin, while you thought to yourself. Should you? Should you give him to Erwin? He only moved closer, hands reaching for Caz while he squirmed out of your touch, immediately reaching for his father. 

“Hold on to his legs,” you instructed, brows furrowing as you held Erwin’s hand to position it over Caz. 

“I know how to hold a child,” Erwin cooed, bouncing Caz on his arms. Everything felt so natural to him, as he looked at his own son’s eyes— feeling the whole world into them. “I got it.” 

When Erwin watched you hesitate to go, he pushed you gently, suppressing his smile, “Go. We’ll be here.” 

Erwin followed you at that point, everywhere— carrying Caz in his arms as you stopped stalls by stalls, buying whatever Caz needs. 

“Get two shirts,” Erwin added as he watched you get one for Caz. He pushed one white sweater in your hands as you only stared at him. He knew you were going to protest as he scrambled to get his wallet but he quickly paid the merchant. “Buy one for you too.” 

“Are you telling me I have an ugly shirt?” You joked quietly, reaching for the merchant’s bag as he handed your toddler’s new clothes. 

“No! No! I...” Erwin scrambled to get his words right but you only squeezed his arm to get to calm down. Caz was peacefully sleeping on his chest, embarrassed that your baby’s sleeping too peacefully, now that there was a big wet spot on Erwin’s shirt. He looked at where you were looking, your cheeks tingeing in embarrassment, “It’s okay, he’s sleeping.”

“I was joking,” you smiled, pulling him towards the next stall— Caz’s favorite stall. The toys section. You turned around, walking towards the both of them, going on your toes to reach up to Caz. He snuggled closer to Erwin, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. “My darling, let’s go buy your toy.” 

Immediately, Caz squirmed out of Erwin’s arms as he kicked his legs making Erwin grunt as he placed his son back to the ground, watching him ran gleefully to the stall while you followed quickly. Erwin caught up, going behind you as you bent down to help Caz pick. Erwin felt like he wanted to buy every single toy as Caz graced his toothy smile towards everything he has laid his eyes on. 

“What does he want?” Erwin asked quietly beside you, pulling your hair behind your back as you whipped your head towards him.

“He likes everything,” you smiled at him, shrugging at Erwin while he chuckled. 

“That’ll be a problem.” 

Both of you watched Caz pick toys out, finally buying him with more than you wanted as Erwin paid for the extra two you promised to buy Caz. Erwin clutched Caz in his arms as he carried a bag on the other, as you lead him towards the new apartment that was just close by. Erwin couldn’t believe that you lived here when he has been walking by the building numerous times trying to look for you. He shook it off, finally realizing that you’re here now. 

“It’s up here,” you motioned upstairs, finding for the key as you walked up the stairs. Erwin bounced the sleeping Caz on his arms again, following you up the stairs. “You got it?”

“Yes,” Erwin whispered, stopping behind you as you pushed the door to welcome him to the apartment. He saw the pile of toys in the middle, few books together while you placed the bags on top of the table while you arranged them. “Where should I put him?”

“Caz is still sleeping?” You whispered, taking off of your shoes as you closed the door behind him. Erwin placed the bag on the floor, bending down to show you his sleeping son. “I’ll have him.” 

“Can I?” Erwin asked quietly, as he stared down at you. He watched you finally relax with the thought of him carrying Caz as you nodded. He listened to you point where and what blanket he needs to sleep— even the toy Caz wants to sleep with. The smallest things you know about your son and he wants to know every single detail. 

Once he got Caz on his bed, swaddling him with his blanket and placing the toy around his arm, he quietly exited. He stood in the middle, unsure of what to do next— but he wants to do more. He watched you flit towards things you needed to fix, the cushion and the sheets, and the new things from town. 

You didn’t realize he was helping you when you felt him pass by you, a hand on your back as he helped. You tucked your hair behind your ear, “It’s okay. You don’t need to help...”

“Let me,” Erwin insisted, quickly catching on the things you were doing. 

Both of you moved quietly, stopping when the floors would creak, and both of your chuckles echo in the living room as he stepped on that same spot. The kettle whistled in the kitchen, and you hurriedly stepped towards it with Erwin following softly. 

You leaned on the countertops, breathing deeply now that you have him alone. You turned your head to him when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging gently making you close your eyes. You clutched on his hands, turning your whole body around as you stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, sighing, as you clasped your hands together. “I should’ve looked for you.” 

“I looked for you,” Erwin mused, pulling away as he sat on the dining chair, watching you grab two mugs from the cabinet. “I passed by this building so many times, not knowing that you lived here.” 

“You must’ve not look well,” you snickered, pouring out the tea before him. You pulled on the chair before him, sharing a cup of tea with him. 

Just like before. 

Erwin smiled as you leaned on to the chair, your hand tapping gently on to the table. He reached for your hand, pulling on your finger as he looked for your attention. He wants this, he wants sitting down on the table, feeling a different kind of exhaustion from chasing his son around, he wants sipping his tea, hushed conversations to not wake the small human next door. 

“Caz found me.” 

You couldn’t help it. 

You remembered Erwin as someone who is serious, just like two years ago— and yes it was just one night, but you didn’t expect him to say that. Even Erwin looked embarrassed and you only curled your fingers with his, tugging on his hand as he hooked his on yours. He tried to squint his eyes at you, hiding his smile and the laughter erupting from his chest but you were the one to boom. 

Your laughter colored the room, hand muffling your lips as your chest shook while Erwin grinned, nibbling on his lip as he watched you become a laughing mess before him— blushing as how corny it must’ve sound like, and from the corner of his eyes, he watched Caz clutched the blanket and his toy as he rubbed his eyes wondering what the commotion was all about. 

Caz walked beside you, holding your hand and his toy as the base intimidated him. He knew that he was supposed to be serious, so he placed his big boy scowl as he watched the big soldiers walk pass him, waving their hands at him— but he didn’t break. He did, and he hid in embarrassment from the attention. 

You were looking for Erwin. It was your first time in the base once Erwin found you months ago, and you finally found the courage to look for him. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you have been walking around for five minutes, unsure of where his office might be. 

“Oh! Excuse me,” you tapped their shoulder, their whole body turning to see who owned the unfamiliar voice. “Do you happen to know where Erwin’s office is?”

“Erwin?” The small man in front of you, glanced down at the child who was smiling at him. The black haired man found it himself to smile back as small as it is, as you watch his eyes flutter towards your son and yours. His grey eyes blinked, surprise coloring his face for a hot second. 

“Yes, Erwin Smith?” You explained, holding Caz’s hand in comfort because you were scared. “I... We got lost, so...”

“Just down the hallway. His door’s the third on the right.” He explained, crossing his arms as he watched the boy cooed on your leg. 

“Great, thank you,” you nodded, smiling nervously as you followed his instructions. You turned to the hallway, and immediately regretting it. You turned around, stunned that the man is still staring at you, “I forgot to ask your name!” 

“Levi,” he said loudly, making sure it reaches you. 

Levi pursed his lips, the cogs in his head working as he put two and two together. He looked more at the smaller human next to you, amazed at how much he looks just like Erwin. 

“Thank you, Levi!” You called out, tugging on Caz’s hand softly as you walked towards the hallway. 

Once you two reached his door, you bent down to Caz, fixing his shirt while he tapped on the wooden door. 

“You have to be quiet, okay,” you whispered, kissing your son’s cheeks as he squirmed away, hurriedly reaching for the doorknob. “It’s a surprise for your father.”

It was far from quiet as you knocked on Erwin’s door, and hearing his response. 

It was far from it. 

Caz squealed right away, screeching for his father as Erwin pushed his chair away, quickly bending down to meet his Caz’s reaching arms, blowing raspberries into his chubby cheeks as he clutched on to his shirt. He heaved him up to his hip, kissing his nose as Caz found glee in touching his father’s cheeks— stretching them while Erwin turned to you. 

You laughed at the scene, walking up to them, squeezing Erwin’s arm as you reached for him. Your lips found his, despite how funny he looked, courtesy by his own son. Still, Erwin kissed you back, placing an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

Erwin wants this. His heart swelled at the thought of you, relishing how good the last few months were with you. He wants this, and he’s thankful that you let him.

It was his turn to laugh. He opened his eyes, pecking your lips as he muffled his laughter with your lips. He couldn’t believe what came out of your mouth, as you kissed him back and your son in his arms while Erwin tugged you any closer.

“Found you.”

[fanfoolishness]

in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3.  They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining.  I hope it fits the bill!  2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought.  Of course it was dark.  It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?  

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago.  There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night.  They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that.  The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark.  It disquieted him.  He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.  He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support.  Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching.  He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.  

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly.  He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level.  Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings.  He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side.  He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow.  Safe.  He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.  

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him.  Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes.  “I could ask the same of you.  Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards?  No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away.  This was a good distraction.  “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us?  Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline.  “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition.  Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away.  “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem.  I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue.  Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing.  Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well.  “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.”  She bent over the fire, concentrating.  It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.  

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor.  “It’s unnatural.”  Then she glanced at him.  “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands.  “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human.  Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.  

“Born and raised,” said Varric.  “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid.  They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface.  My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move.  Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.”  He gazed into the fire.  Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening.  “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.”  She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head.  “Family.  Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?”  Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke.  He liked that about her.  Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled.  “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother.  He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open.  She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight.  It’s our fighting, right?  That’s the important bit.”  She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive.   He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously.  “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers.  For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted.  “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones.  “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother.  Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back.  Eh.  Not much difference.  

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say.  You never talk about the other twin that way.   But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings.  At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten.  It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..  

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes.  If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered.  He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed.  “You never did say what you were doing out here.  Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily.  “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore.  She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes.  Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark.  You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered.  Or was he blushing?  He wasn’t sure.  Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away.  “This is why I like traveling with you.  You’re right.  If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.”  She let out a long breath.  “Ah, thanks for that.  I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest.  A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully.  Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words.  Why was he thinking of Bianca now?  He shook his head.  “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here.  I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded.  “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent.  Didn’t feel right to let it go out.  So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric.  He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.  

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice.  It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know.  Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.”  She shrugged.  “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here.  I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric.  He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily.  “Felt sorry for the poor fellow.  I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown.  ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed.  “Good point.  Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it?  Not Darktown, obviously.  Kirkwall,” said Hawke.  “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now?  It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered.  He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died.  Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns.  But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.  

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly.  “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras!  You’ve gone insane.’”  

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke.  “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks.  Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive.  “I suppose,” she said.  She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes.  “Hmph.  Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously.  He’d had her cooking before.  Carver’s was far and away the better meal.  

“I’ve been saving these.  For a special occasion, as it were.”  She rummaged in the pack beside her.  “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise.  The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.  

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped.  “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said.  “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.”  She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial.  “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall.  The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside.  The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price?  Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them.  Don’t know why.”  

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest.  He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense.  Bartrand would have scoffed.  But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric.  “They’re yours.  You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say.  Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke.  She shoved the biscuits at him.  “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right.  If you insist.  Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.”  He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand.  The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.”  Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite.  “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes.  “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit.  It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth.  He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate.  He paused, savoring it.  “Damn.  No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit.  Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows.  He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket.  Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark.  It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.  

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly.  “The fire’s a good one, Hawke.  You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again.  “But don’t tell anyone.  It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why.  “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric.  “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours?  Of course I do,” she said.  She gave him a tired smile.  “All right, then.  I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same.  It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion.  It’d be a crying shame.  We’d never live it down,” said Varric.  “All right, you’ve convinced me.”  

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted.  He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up.  “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem.  See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said.  “But I’ll see you then.”  She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling.  The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps.  He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this.  He knew it now in his bones.  Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time.  No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly.  Yeah.  He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet.  His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed.  He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Time Will Tell: Part Three

note: this is for @peppermintschnappss , who requested a part three (read part ONE and TWO here) so here we go, enjoy :)

words: 3k

warnings: swearing, smut

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty of the accused charges.“

Hearing the verdict felt like the biggest weight had just dropped off your shoulders, you were so relieved that you could barely make out the judge dismissing the court over the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

You had just won your first case for your new employer, it had been the first client you had dealt with all on your own, a case of alleged tax fraud, and you had nailed it.

With a big smile on your face, you quickly congratulated your client and, after a short talk with the prosecutor, made your way out of the courtroom, a spring in your step.

Just before you reached the door, the sound of a familiar voice behind you made you stop in your tracks.

“You did it, champ.”

Turning around, you came face to face with your colleague, but more importantly, boyfriend, Chris.

You were surprised to see him, and immediately threw your hands around his neck to kiss him, not caring about the fact that you were technically still in the court room.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Did you watch the trial?” You asked after breaking the kiss.

“Of course I did. It was your first one for the firm, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Actually, I’m here to pick you up. We’re celebrating.”

+++

“You did this all by yourself?”

You took in the living room of Chris apartment with wide eyes. He had put up a beautiful dinner table, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

“You’re such a sap.” You said, a bit choked up. „Thank you so much, baby. “

“Only for you, superstar.” Chris replied, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body to his. He was warm and solid, and when his hands wandered down to squeeze your ass, dinner wasn’t your top priority anymore.

"Do you think we can maybe re-heat the food later?” You gasped against Chris lips, pulling his shirt out of his trousers to run your hands over his abs.

“Fuck, yes.” he murmured, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom.

+++

“Oooh here she comes, trying for the outside jump.” Chris exclaimed, before bursting out laughing as you totally missed the hoop.

“Sweetheart, I‘m so sorry, but that was pathetic.”

You flipped him the bird, running to collect the ball and throwing it at Chris with all the force you could manage. He effortlessly caught it and shot it through the hoop like it was nothing.

“Show-off.” you murmured, sitting down on the bench on the side of the basketball court. You were done, Chris had tried to teach you his favorite game for hours now, but you didn’t manage to make any progress. You just weren’t cut out for ball sports.

“Don’t beat yourself up, baby. It took me forever when I first started playing.” Chris said, slumping down next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull your close.

“Stop it, im gross and sweaty.” You giggled, trying to push him away, but he just laughed and pressed a kiss to your head. His laugh was your favorite sound in the world, so you stopped wriggling and leaned against his shoulder.

“Who taught you to play like that anyway?” you asked, looking up and noticing a far away look on Chris‘ face.

“My dad did.” He said, his voice oddly quiet now. “It was our favorite activity when I was a teenager.” He paused for a moment, and you decided to wait and let him speak. “For a long time, it basically was our only one. You know, with him being governor and everything, he wasn’t around a lot, or had any free time.”

“I’m sorry, Chris.” you whispered.

“It’s alright.” He dismissed you, still sounding a bit strained. “My big brother stepped up for a lot of stuff, you know. Homework, making sure I didn’t get in trouble, he even helped me with my college applications and everything. He’s an ass most off the time, but I still love him, and I’m grateful for everything he has done for me.” He chuckled. “But he can’t play basketball for shit.”

“Sounds like he and I have something in common then.” You noted, trying not to sound awkward. The topic of Chris’ family was still foreign terrain, you hadn’t met them yet, and had decided to give Chris space and wait for him to bring it up himself. You were also slightly nervous, because there was no way Chris hadn’t told them about you, his college nemesis.

Deciding to change the topic and cheer your boyfriend up, you picked up the ball again.

“Do you still have enough energy for another round, Cuomo?” You asked smugly. “If you’d rather go home and take a nap, just say so, would be totally fine.”

Chris laughed, and snatched the ball right out of your hands with ease. You were happy to see him lighten up.

“Please, as if playing against you would require any energy.”

+++

The topic of Chris childhood didn’t come up for another few weeks, you had noticed that he avoided talking about it and were wise enough not to pressure him.

Everything was going fine until Chris lost a big case for a very high-end client. The man had clearly been guilty, and not even your boyfriend had been able to get him out, despite his talent as an attorney.

It was the talk off the whole firm the next day, Chris hadn’t lost a case in ages, and never such an important one. He had been on edge ever since the trial, but it was what happened in the morning meeting that made him snap.

The reason was Smith, another associate and Chris’ number one opponent for the spot of the next junior partner of the firm. You hated the guy, he was vile and clearly only in it for the money. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and started to attack Chris during the morning meeting.

“Great job you did yesterday, Cuomo.” he snarled, his voice sounding through the whole conference room. “I wonder how many clients your incompetence will cost us. People are already talking.”

You could feel Chris going rigid beside you and carefully put your hand on his back in an attempt to calm him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” You whispered “He wants to rile you up.”

When the man continued to speak, you could see Chris’ jaw going tense, which was never a good sign.

“Seriously, boss, Cuomo is a basket case, how is he still working for us after that fuck-up? Oh, wait, I know it, I’m sure daddy pulled some strings for his little boy.”

You couldn’t prevent what was happening next. Chris surged forward with a angry growl, already taking a swing at the guy.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he hissed, backing Smith up against a wall. He was considerably larger, and the fearful expression on the guys face paired with Chris raised fist made chaos break loose as multiple people were trying to get him away from the smaller man.

“Gentlemen, stop this!” your boss thundered over the agitated voices of your fellow coworkers “Smith, see me right away. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior. Cuomo, take a walk and then get to work. Come to my office after you’re done tonight.”

Chris gave Smith another deadly stare before storming out of the room. You shot your boss an anxious glance, but he just nodded, signalling you to go after Chris.

You hastily followed your boyfriend, only to see him disappear into his office at the end of the hallway. Carefully, you approached the closed door and entered without knocking.

Chris was slumped in his chair, face buried in his hands. Seeing him like this made you want to go back and punch Smith in his stupid face.

“Hey.” you whispered, gently reaching out to put your hand on Chris shoulder.

He raised his head, and the look of fury and sadness in his eyes almost broke your heart.

"Fuck, I should not have lost control like this back in there.” he said “But this guy has been testing me for so long now, always with the same bullshit.”

He got up from his chair and started pacing around the small room.

“You know how often I’ve heard this crap before, Y/N? That I’m just where I am because of my family name? That my father paved the way for everything I’ve ever succeeded in?”

You swallowed, a churning feeling in your stomach. You knew exactly what he was talking about, because for years you’ve been one of the main people saying just that. You wanted to speak, but Chris interrupted you.

“Those people out there, they know nothing about me. They don’t know how it was to have a father who was absent all the time, to be constantly teased in school. To be ripped out of the life you knew to move to fucking Albany, this stupid one horse town where everyone knew your name, and go to this school full of pricks who all made fun of me and bullied me because of my family. I never asked to be in the fucking spotlight.”

By now, Chris was almost screaming, and there was a kind of emotion in his voice you’ve never heard before, he sounded desperate and sad in a way that made tears well up in your eyes.

“Still, I worked my ass off in that stupid school, and I got into Yale. Only for people to say the exact same shit about me again, and this drags through my whole life, Y/N. I can never get rid of this, I avoided politics and tried to do my own thing here, but everything I’ll ever be to people is the son of the fucking governor, who in their eyes, never worked a day in his life.”

You were frozen to your spot, just watching Chris through a veil of tears. Guilt and dread were clawing in your stomach, it had never occurred to you that all the things you said in the past had not only been far from the thruth, but had also hurt Chris so profoundly. He had always seemed so cool and unfazed during your arguments.

“Chris.” You began. “You’re more to me. You’re a brilliant attorney, the boss has talked about how great you are at the job the second I arrived here and hasn’t stopped since. Smith is jealous because he knows he’ll never reach your level, not as a lawyer and much less as a person. You are kind, and the most intelligent and dedicated man I know. You’re everything I always thought you weren‘t, and that I am one of the people who hurt you this way makes me sick. I cant even begin to tell you how sorry I am for being so shallow.”

You were crying now, tears rolling down your face. Chris looked devastated, hurrying to you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, baby. You’ve been my rock ever since we’ve met again, and that makes up for every silly row we had in college.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, and you sighted, nuzzling your face into his chest, your tears soaking into his dress shirt.

“You probably have to change this.” You whispered, tugging on a wet patch on the fabric.

“I have a spare one in here, don’t worry.” Chris replied, taking your face into his hands to kiss you deeply. “We’re not the people we used to be, Y/N. Don’t beat yourself up, and I’ll try to do the same, promise.”

+++

Soon afterwards, you had to leave to meet up with a client for your current case. You had been running around the whole day without a break, and without hearing anything from Chris.

It was almost eight by now, and you were starting to get worried. Pacing your living room, you were anxiously waiting for Chris to arrive. He had told you to not wait up at the firm but promised to come to your apartment as soon as his talk with the boss was over.

The sign of the bell made you spin around and run to your door, yanking it open. Chris was standing outside your apartment, and the big smile on his face erased your anxiety in a heartbeat.

“You’re looking at a freshly promoted junior partner, sweetheart.” He grinned, and whatever he wanted to say next was interrupted by you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck with a squeal.

“Oh my god, baby, congratulations.” You exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Tell me everything!”

Chris followed you into your flat, discarding his suit jacket and letting himself fall onto your couch.

“I still haven’t fully realized what happened.” He began. “I was sure the boss would kick my ass for the way I behaved this morning, maybe even suspend me for a while. But he just told me off really quickly, and then he started talking about how that case I lost was impossible to win anyway, and how good my work has been for the past years. And then he offered me the junior partner position, just like that. I accepted of course.”

He smiled, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can’t wait to rub that into Smiths stupid face. One of the paralegals told me he got a big ass whooping by the boss after the meeting this morning.”

"Serves him right, that little asshole.” You replied, before leaning over to kiss Chris again. “I’m so proud of you, you deserve this like no one else. Now that I think about it, how does champagne sound?”

“Wow, so were going to be fancy tonight?” Chris chuckled.

“If you becoming a junior partner doesn’t call for champagne, what does?” you responded, getting up to fetch the drinks from the kitchen.

You handed Chris a glass and clinked your own against his. “To you, Mr. Big Shot lawyer.”

The champagne sent a pleasant, fuzzy feeling through your stomach, and you let your eyes fall on your boyfriend, taking in how good he was looking in the warm light of the room.

“You know, I always had a thing for attorneys.” You murmured, setting down your glass to put your hands on Chris chest.

Chris laughed, and set his glass aside as well, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Is that so, huh? Well today is your lucky day then, I just got promoted and I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

His hot breath sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head, exposing your neck to Chris, who instantly started kissing and sucking the smooth skin. You moaned softly and started to unbutton Chris shirt with shaking fingers.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand to pull him to the other room. Both of you quickly shed your clothes before you dropped to your knees in front of Chris, closing your lips around his already hard cock.

“Jesus, Y/N.” he murmured, stroking your hair as you fully took him into your mouth. “So perfect, baby.”

You wrapped you hand around the base of his length, stroking him while moving your head up and down. Suddenly, Chris hand grabbed your hair and softly pushed you away.

“If you keep it up like that, this will be over soon, and I’m not done with you, sweetheart. Get on the bed, baby.”

You quickly complied, laying down on the duvet and looking up at Chris expectantly.

He climbed on top of you and started stroking your inner thighs with his fingers, softly nudging your legs apart.

“I bet youre already wet for me, baby.” He murmured, voice smooth and dark as his fingers dipped between your legs. “I knew it.”

“Chris.” You whined at the feeling of his fingers brushing over your clit. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, baby.” Chris replied and continued to tease you, softly circling your bud with increasing pressure until you were sobbing, legs shaking as you fell apart under his touch.

While you were still riding out your climax, Chris slid between your legs and pushed into you. You cried out as he started to move, you were still so sensitive that you could feel yourself already approaching the next orgasm.

“Shit, baby, you’re tight, I’m not gonna last.” Chris grunted, his thrusts were already getting more erratic.

“Let go, baby.” You whispered, your voice breaking as you reached your peak again, pulling Chris with you this time.

+++

Afterwards, you laid next to each other, Chris arm loosely slung around you as you played with a lock of his hair. His blue eyes found yours, and you had to smile, your heart fluttering when he smiled back at you.

“It’s funny.” Chris suddenly said, “So many things happened today, but the only thing I care about right now is that you’re here with me.”

He propped himself up on his elbow to properly look at you.

“I would’ve never thought that this” he gestured between the two of you “could happen.”

“Not in a thousand years.” You agreed, laughing softly.

Chris face got serious, and he reached out to softly stroke your cheek.

“If you want, I’d like to introduce you to my family this weekend, Y/N. You know that I’m a private person and talking about emotions isn’t exactly my strong suit. But you make me really happy, and I want everyone to know.”

“I’d love to meet them.” You whispered, and the smile that took over Chris face made you forget your nervousness.

Everything would be fine.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 1

I’m back, again, hopefully a bit more consistently. This time returning to the world of Anna Swift with a story that’s been an idea for almost 2 years but couldn’t quite come together.  No resus in this part, just setting up the scene, but I hope you enjoy.

----------

Shona dragged her large suitcase up the ramp and onto the lower deck of the old water taxi. It had become almost like an old friend to her over the last few years, the point of seperation between home and college. She turned and waved to her parents, who stood back on the quay, watching thier daughter leave for the last semester of her college life. In truth she wasn't going all that far. Only a dozen or so miles as the crow flies, and within the limits of the same greater city area. But while the city had grown and expanded to absorb her old home town as a mere suburb, the city's transport links had not kept pace. While the rail network ran along each side of the river, it didn't cross at this end of the city. There were plans for new bridges, but they never materialised. And so, instead of taking a 3 hour trip on the city metro, Shona would take the trusty water taxi that had been crossing the river back and forth for as long as her mother remembered, and be at her dorm within 40 minutes.

A good idea really, she thought, pulling on the suitcase behind her, trying to get it rolling again. She cursed internally at her professors for giving them so much work over the spring break, the suitcase weighed down with what felt like half a library. A gust of cold wind blasted her face, and she thought of another curse, this one at the northern climate. To many, spring break was about running around on beaches nearly naked having parties and getting tanned. To say it would not be advisable here was an understatement. This far north, winter was still clinging on, to the point where snow lay on the ground just a few weeks ago.

Shona pulled her scarf up a little further as she dragged the suitcase toward the door at the rear of the cabin, where luggage could be stowed out of the way. She pushed it open then spun to grip the suitcase handle with both hands and haul it over the small threshold, staggering back a little as the wheels finally rocked over. A gust of wind sucked the door closed with a loud bang and shone flinched, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Like public transport in most cities, no one so much as glanced at her.

She ducked into the luggage area, and her heart sank. All the lower shelves were full. She walked over, wondering just how she was going to stow the case. She vaguely heard the door behind her, then the sound of rolling wheels that approached and stopped beside her.

"Erm, would you like a hand?" A male voice said. Shone turned to him. He was young, maybe a similar age to herself, with black hair in that intentionally messy style. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Not infering anything about the strength of your gender...You just looked... and I need to..." He glanced at his own case, similar sized to hers.

Shona shook her head "Sorry, yes that would be great." She smiled. "We can each lift half." She commented, prompting a grin from the young man. Together they lifted her bag. Well, Shona steadied it at least.

"Student?" The young man asked, with a slight pant from the effort. Shona nodded, and opened her mouth to reply. "Wait, let me try and guess. Your on this taxi, so you must be studying at Central. That amount of books, over spring break no less, narrows it down. Medical students are already back, my roomate's doing Chem and says all the natural sciences work is based on their own labs now. And, I haven't seen you in any of my classes or on my floor of the library, so by process of elimination I'm going to say... History."

"Impressive." Shona told him with a grin. "You must be studying literature." She grinned at his shocked face. "My roommate is in that course. She can almost quote the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at this point, and she told me that almost everyone goes through a Sherlock phase in that course."

He chuckles. "Well played. I must know the name of the lady who bested me." He said, with a mock bow.

Shona couldn't help but chuckle too, though it was drowned out by the horn of the water taxi, as it gave it's last call. Shona felt the familiar rumble as the engine got into gear and began to ramp up in power. "Shona. Shona Smith-Carlson. Yes it's double barrelled. Ardent Feminist of a mother refused to give up her maiden name."

"Well theres nothing wrong with that. Though by the look on your face you aren't too happy it."

"It's not that," Shona shrugs. "She just never shuts up about it. Still loves dad though." She trails off, the silence starting to become awkward. "What about you?" She re-directs. "I'm guessing your name isn't actually Sherlock."

He smiles. "Jack Davidson. Not literally, My dad's actually called Mark."

"You must have practiced that line." Shona said, trying not to laugh at the perfect delivery.

"Maybe once or twice, but it's a good ice breaker, don't you think?"  He replied with another dazzling smile.

It was a nice smile. The boat jerked slightly as it left the quay and started its journey across the river. Shona rocked a little, Jacks arm moved, lifting a little, not quite reaching out, but ready to steady her if she had stumbled, and Shona suddenly realised he was flirting. Why did this always happen? She fought to not roll her eyes. Her girlfriend was going to rib her again. She would have to let him down gently. She took off her scarf, wrapping it and putting it into one pocket, and then unzipped her coat. She caught his eyes flick down as all men’s do, then slightly to one side, catching sight of the rainbow badge.

He blew out a breath, then nodded with a wry grin. "That's a good move. I am out played once again. Though I suppose we aren't quite playing the same game are we."

Shona shrugged. "Sorry." She mumbled.

Jack waved his hand. "Don't be. Not like you can change who you are. How about we get my bag stowed and then we grab a coffee on the upper deck?" Shona looked at him, puzzled. "Your roommate. From what you were saying she's a year ahead of me. A bit of early information is always good."

Shona considered it for a moment. He wasn't being pushy or angry like one of those guys. And she was planning on getting a coffee. So she shrugged. "Why not, company is always nice."

Together they lifted Jack's case, a little lighter than her own, and placed it in the rack. But as he was checking it was secure, Shona felt a rumble. A different rumble, one that she had never felt before on over two dozen journeys. If she'd been outside, she would have seen a plume of black smoke rise out the tall exhaust stack. If she'd been in the cabin that qualified as the bridge of the boat, she'd have heard voices filled with panic as alarms squarked.

Shona and Jack started up the stairs in front of the luggage compartment, when there was another rumble, and a strange noise filled the passenger cabin as the whole ship vibrated. Shona stopped halfway up the stairs, looking behind her. Jack turned to her, three steps higher up.

"What is it?" He asked

Shona shook her head "The boat. Somethings wr..."

 Her voice was totally drowned out by the noise of the engine exploding.

**********

Officer Matt Jones sat on the small river patrol boat, bobbing slightly against it's mooring. He glanced at his watch. Just another 7 hours and 50 minutes of his 8 hour shift. He sighed, feeling that boiling anger as he rembered getting busted down to river patrol. Not even standard beat cop, river patrol. In March, in this city, where even the foolish wouldn't think of getting in the river. Only the desperate. But this section of the river didn't even have any bridges, ruling that out too.

"So..." The old timer, Winston, who was now his partner muttered. "Who did you piss off to land yourself here?"

Jones breathed out slowly, sending the anger with it. "You know Dean Campbell?"

"The head of HR Dean Campbell?" Jones nodded, Winston whistled. "What did you do?"

"I may have pointed out that he was... inadequate for the position. In somewhat more forceful terms. To his face..."

Winston spat into the river. "That would do it. Not that you are wrong of course, that little weasel has done nothing but damage to the department, but, not exactly the wisest decision.

Jones nodded. "What about you?"

"I asked to be here." Winston replied, prompting a look from Jones. "Coming up on retirement. The last thing I wanted was to be that stereotype. Always liked fishing, figured I'd get some boat time and avoid anything likely to finish me off before my service is done."

"That's fair enough I guess." Jones told him, sipping at the coffee, watching the old water taxi make it's way across the river. He noticed the black smoke, but thought nothing of it. "Does anything interesting happen here?"

"Wouldn't have picked this spot if it did." Winston replied. "Occasionally that floating wreck needs a hand when it breaks, but that's about it." He says turning to look. "Speking of which, that exhaust don't look too healthy." He said a moment before the radio squarked, lighting up an indicator on the emergency channel.

"This is the Beetle, may-day, may-day, our engine is...." The radio cut off as a gout of thick black smoke burst from the exhaust tube, and the distant boat seemed to lurch. A split second later the sound wave of the explosion reached them.

"Get us moving!" Jones shouted to Winston, as he grabbed at his own radio. "This is officer Jones, Badge number 4582. We have a major incident in progress on the river between....between..."

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point!" Winston shouted.

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point. Explosion on a water taxi, we are en-route, unknown casualties, unknown situation, requesting additional backup for evacuation and medical assistance!"

"Acknowledged Officer Jones. Relaying now."

Winston had gotten the speed boat unmoored, tossing a high-vis life jacket to Jones, before he gunned the motor and they began to cut through the waves, heading for the vessel that was now smoking from more than just the exhaust.

(Edit: Fixed some errors and details. A little out of practice.)

[screaming-introvertedly]

my heart told me to need you, so I do

Rusty Quill Gaming, Zolf/Oscar, G, 18-month time gap, fluff and angst, the inherent intimacy of having someone's fingers in your hair

Also on ao3!

“Wilde? Thought you could use a break. Brought you some tea.” Zolf came into the small room of the inn Wilde had claimed as an office, brandishing a clay teapot with a towel wrapped around its handle and two small teacups.

“What, nothing stronger?” Wilde asked, glancing only briefly up from his papers.

Zolf snorted. “Wouldn’ta thought you’d be the sort to get drunk before noon. ’specially not with all the—” he gestured at the piles of work in front of Wilde, setting the cups down on the one clear corner of the desk.

“Mm, you should’ve known me in my university days. Tea sounds lovely, though, thank you, Mr. Smith.”

As he’d gotten more and more into his work that morning, Wilde had propped his head on his right hand, absentmindedly tucking his fingers up into his hair. Now, as he set down his quill and went to sit up, he found his fingers caught in the countless tangles and snarls there, and he hissed a soft curse as the movement tugged on his oversensitive scalp.

Zolf, pouring tea, looked abruptly up at Wilde’s pained noise.

Wilde carefully extracted his hand from his hair, untangling a ring that’d gotten snagged, waving Zolf off with his left.

Zolf’s eyebrows crept further and further up his forehead. “You alright there, Wilde?” he asked, with a smirk in his voice even if it wasn’t quite on his face.

“Fine, fine,” Wilde breezed, shifting in his chair and reaching for a teacup.

Zolf’s gaze steadily worked its way over his head and face, taking in his appearance—no doubt he had some hideous dark smudges beneath his eyes—and the wrinkles on Zolf’s brow deepened. Wilde blew over the top of the teacup, disturbing a curl of steam, and took a delicate sip, preparing his rote response: Don’t worry about it, Zolf, I’m fine, stop asking.

“Wilde…. when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

The question caught Wilde off guard. How long had it been? He’d gotten rather used to his hair being short, but it’d grown back considerably since… since Damascus. Since—mentally, Wilde gritted his teeth—since Grizzop had chopped it all off.

All these months later, and you’re still barely able to think their names. He berated himself every time. You lost them. They’re gone and it’s your fault, and you can’t even think their names?

“Does it matter?” he said out loud, realizing how long a pause there’d been. He took another sip of his tea. Academically, he knew it was jasmine, probably perfect, prepared just the way he liked it, but he couldn’t taste it at all.

“Does it… well, no, I guess not really.” Zolf crossed his arms, voice deliberately even. “I was just wonderin’ why your hair looks like there might be a rat or two livin’ in it.”

“Flatterer.”

“I’m serious, Wilde. You always seemed to—I dunno, take pride in your appearance before. You were meticulous. Fussy, really. So what happened?”

Wilde raised an eyebrow and tugged up one leg of his hakama, revealing the anti-magic cuff around his ankle.

“Oh, for the love of—do you not know how to take care of yourself without magic?”

Wilde only shrugged, not meeting Zolf’s eye. “It was easier back then, Zolf. I’ve been… busy, you know how it’s been.”

“It’s brushing your hair, Wilde, it’s not like you’re taking… I dunno, three-hour long bubble baths or something.”

Ooh, what I wouldn’t give for the chance…. Wilde gave an affected sigh and turned back to his paperwork, setting the empty teacup aside and picking up his quill. “Would that I had the time, Mr. Smith.”

Zolf stood in front of the desk in silence, arms crossed, while Wilde stared with unfocused eyes at the stacks of reports and made idle, useless marks with the quill, purposefully ignoring him.

After half a minute of increasingly belligerent silence, Wilde looked up at the stony-faced dwarf as if he’d just noticed him, and asked, as lightly and casually as he could, “Was there something else?”

Zolf’s nostrils flared. His mouth pursed. For all that he liked to play the stoic, he was actually rather easy to read. That, or Wilde had grown familiar enough with Zolf that he could sense tiny changes in his moods, a thought that both gave Wilde pause and made something warm and comfortable curl up, pleased, in the middle of his chest.

Zolf was still just looking at him. Wilde raised his eyebrows. “Zolf?”

“You need to take a bloody break, alright?”

“I am fine—”

“And,” Zolf continued, trampling all over the end of Wilde’s sentence. “I know how to do hair, so let me.”

Wilde’s mouth went inexplicably dry. He had to swallow twice before he felt like he could speak with anything approaching normalcy. “…What?”

Zolf’s nostrils flared again. Wilde would have smirked if he hadn’t been busy panicking.

“I said…” Zolf began, speaking slowly and clearly, “I’m actually pretty good at doin’ hair. My mum and dad, they—I’ve—well, I’ve had a lot of practice, right? It’s a—dwarves and braids, it’s a whole—” He blushed angrily, even though Wilde hadn’t said anything, and gestured to his own beard. “So… just, let me.”

By the time Wilde had gathered his wits enough to nod, a little dazed, Zolf had already left the room.

Wilde remained sat at the desk, hands pressed flat to its wooden surface to keep them from trembling. He was about to have Zolf’s fingers in his hair. Zolf, who’d been a constant, solid, steady presence in his life for these past few months, obstinate and compassionate and deep-down good and whose wellbeing Wilde was rapidly coming to realise may be crucial to his own, who’d seen Wilde at his lowest and stayed with him anyway, had found Wilde the same week he’d finally accepted his team wasn’t coming back from Rome, and had cradled his broken pieces in his hands and forced him to hope… his head was getting away from him.

Point was, Zolf was about to be touching him. Quite a lot.

…how was he supposed to stand it?

Zolf’s heavy footfalls sounded in the hall, leaving Wilde with very little time to collect himself. Zolf returned to the room, holding a soft-bristled brush, a comb, and—gods—a bottle of his own hair oil. He stood behind a long, low couch, the place where Wilde slept when he couldn’t quite drag himself all the way down the hall to his bed, looking expectantly at Wilde.

Wilde tried to disguise his deep, steadying breath as a sigh of resignation. Despite his best efforts, it still hissed too quickly through his nose. He rose from his chair, spine popping and settling back into place after so many hours of hunching over his work, and he walked to the couch, perching in the middle, right at the edge of the cushion, hands folded neatly in his lap.

From this angle, Wilde was fairly confident Zolf couldn’t see his face. He allowed himself one moment to let his mouth fall open, one unsteady inhale as his fingers spasmed in his lap.

There was a frustrated grunt behind him. “Scooch back a bit, leggy git, can’t reach you from ’ere.”

Wilde swallowed. Settled further into the couch, stretching his long legs out. Rested his neck on the edge and let his head fall back.

And then Zolf’s fingers were there, brushing against the back of Wilde’s neck, and Wilde’s mouth went dry. Thick and gentle, calluses a little rough against Wilde’s skin, he started slowly at first. Took small lengths of Wilde’s hair, separating and lifting them away from his head, holding each lock firmly at the base so the comb didn’t pull as he softly teased out the tangles from the ends.

As he worked, he hummed thoughtfully, sometimes clicking his tongue and making little disapproving noises at the state of Wilde’s hair, sometimes muttering under his breath in concentration, little strings of “now how in the bloody hell did—” and “oh, for the love of—”

Wilde was grateful for Zolf’s noises, because there was a better chance they covered up his own. He had his teeth clamped down so hard on his tongue he tasted blood, trying to stifle the little gasps and back-of-the-throat sounds he refused to call moans, even in his own head. This was utterly ridiculous. Just because it’d been absolute ages since anyone touched him with any sort of kindness—and the person who currently had his fingers buried in Wilde’s hair just so happened to be the same person Wilde had been silently pining after for several painful months—didn’t mean he could completely lose his head.

Zolf worked his way from the ends up to the roots, from the left side of Wilde’s head around the back and to the right. Wilde let his eyes slide half-shut, wanting to luxuriate in the sensation but too on edge to let himself fully relax, sure he would do something truly embarrassing if he didn’t keep a tight rein on himself.

The comb snagged and pulled one particularly tender spot right at the nape of Wilde’s neck, yanking his head backwards. He gasped aloud, hands fluttering reflexively to his throat, knees jerking up below his chin. Zolf’s touch immediately gentled and he hissed through his teeth, muttering, “Sorry, sorry,” as he extracted the comb. Wilde fought to steady his breathing, clenching his fists at his sides.

“It’s fine,” he gasped, aware of how breathless he sounded and unable to do a thing about it.

Really, he was grateful for the pain. It provided a distraction from the truly lovely sensation of fingers in his hair, jolted him back into his body from where he’d been floating, a little untethered. He had to remain focused. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip out.

Soon, his hair felt smooth and lighter-weight than it had in some time, easing a headache he didn’t even know he had until it wasn’t there anymore. Zolf neatly parted it, switching to the soft-bristled brush and running it through each side. The hair curled in warm, gentle waves around Wilde’s face. He let his head tip forward, his breaths evening out as the brush stroked from roots to ends over and over, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Enjoy it now, because this cannot be allowed to happen again. You cannot allow yourself to fall in l—to care too deeply about him or else you are lost, you are compromised, and if you lose him, you will never be able to put yourself back together again—

The hairbrush paused. Wilde surfaced, realising belatedly that Zolf had been speaking to him, and was now waiting for a response.

He managed a questioning “hmm,” aiming for casual and missing by a mile. But anything other than a hum would’ve given away the crack in his voice. He tilted his head back. Zolf’s hands cupped his skull, gently supporting him.

Zolf snorted. Upside-down, Wilde had a great view of his wonderfully-expressive nostril flare. “I said, I’d like to use some hair oil on you. Jus’ didn’t want you startled.”

Wilde hummed an acknowledgement, letting his eyes drift shut again.

The pop of a cork, a quiet glugging, and the room filled with the smell of ginger and orange. Wilde swallowed reflexively. It was the same smell that followed Zolf around, the same oil that the dwarf used in his own hair before he’d cut it short, and still used in his beard.

So now Wilde was going to go around smelling of Zolf whenever he turned his own head. It would drive him utterly to distraction. And Zolf expected him just to be able to handle it?

Sure, it wasn’t as though he’d never entertained the idea of swiping one of the little bottles, sprinkling a drop or two on his wrists or his lapel—or his pillow—and returning it before it was missed. Especially when Zolf had been away on a mission for longer than expected, or, even worse, stuck in the anti-magic cell, and every day of the quarantine Wilde grew more paranoid, more certain that today’s check would be the time he found blue veins in Zolf’s skin, that this would be the day that proved his compan—his partn—his Zolf was gone.

But he’d never actually done it. He wasn’t quite that pathetic, thank you. Not yet. (And if Zolf truly had been turned, and Wilde had killed him, returning to a bed that smelled of him would’ve been… unimaginable.)

When those strong, blunt fingers stroked across the top of Wilde’s head, he did his best not to flinch. Zolf had obviously warmed the oil in his palms, and he smoothed it into Wilde’s hair, fingertips pressing down, digging in, massaging deeply into Wilde’s scalp. The ginger sent tingling warmth through his entire skull and answering shivers down the back of his neck.

Wilde released a held breath, letting his head fall back into the support of Zolf’s hands. He seemed to really be taking his time, giving Wilde one of the best scalp massages he’d ever had. Short nails scratched very gently at Wilde’s temples. Gooseflesh prickled down his arms. The smell of the oil saturated his senses. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open; they kept sliding shut completely without his input, narrowing all of his concentration down to Zolf’s fingers on his skin, Zolf’s smell in his head, Zolf’s care and attention enveloping him. Wilde started tensing and relaxing his thighs, clenching his fingers in the silky material of his trousers just to give himself something else to focus on.

It could have been anywhere from fifteen minutes to twelve days later when Zolf cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, and Wilde forced his eyes open. He felt… good. Almost as though he’d managed to doze off for a bit. His entire body was loose and relaxed, tingling warmth and lassitude in all his muscles. He lifted a hand languidly to his hair, which was smooth and soft, bound up in a loose, messy bun with a strip of cloth.

“Huh… no braid, Mr. Smith? I’m a bit surprised, I must say,” Wilde chuckled, syllables a little slack and rounded at the edges.

Zolf cleared his throat again. “Gotta let it sit first.” His voice was rough.

Wilde flopped his head to look in Zolf’s direction—it was extraordinary, it was like he had no motor control whatsoever. Zolf wasn’t looking at him, apparently totally focused on wiping the oil off his hands with a rag.

“I’ll just… go and get the innkeeper to draw you a bath. You’ll wanna wash your hair after it’s had some time to sit. Then I’ll… yeah. I’ll braid it.”

And Zolf left the room.

Wilde tilted his head back up, looking at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. He was more relaxed, more at peace than he’d been in… years. Luxuriating in the unfamiliar feeling of being well taken care of, of being given the chance to rest. It wasn’t that any of the problems Wilde needed to fix had gone away, they just… didn’t matter for the moment.

For the moment, he just sat in the middle of a cloud of ginger and orange, and breathed.