#so hes stuck amusing himself and he simply cannot stand it

[mothwizard]

its almost 2am and sooty is wandering around the house with a toy in his mouth, meowing very quietly

nobody will play with him bc it is, as previously stated, 2am, and he's very upset about it

[anantaru]

I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?

— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you

"you have nothing to worry about,"

"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.

your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.

"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"

"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.

"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.

and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.

"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.

scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.

scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.

but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.

but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.

he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.

truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.

with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.

there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.

he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.

does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.

to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.

enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.

your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.

scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.

a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.

scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.

you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.

"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.

scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.

inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.

it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.

"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.

frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.

one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.

"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart,  panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.

"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"

archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.

after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"

"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,

"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[not-a-taken-username]

harry potter and the stupid fucking triwizard tournament

by: notatakenusername

summary: The moment Harry James Potter hears his name come out of the stupid, obese, wine-glass doppelganger, (also known as the Goblet of Fire), he's done holding himself back. Queue the chaos that happens when he gives into his impulsive thoughts.

snippet from chapter 11, where Sirius gets his trail:

“The next witness to the stand is Severus Snape,” Fudge said. Harry grinned. This was about to get very interesting. 

Snape, who had been completely silent and sitting in the back of the stand the entire time because he’s so emo (Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he had a deafening charm on), walked down to the stand, sneering at everyone. 

“So, Mr. Snape…could you please state your relationship to the defendant?” Umbridge asked, actually looking quite wary of Snape. Snape shot a glance at Sirius, not bothering to hide his disdain. Sirius, being the extremely mature adult he was, stuck his tongue out in response. Harry snickered. 

“He was my…classmate,” Snape responded, sounding as if saying the word “classmate” was physically painful. Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Classmate?” Umbridge asked, raising an eyebrow. “So you two weren’t friends?” 

Sirius started mock-throwing up. Snape recoiled in disgust. Remus watched in visible amusement. 

“Absolutely not,” Snape sneered, looking at Sirius with disgust. “I would never be friends–”

“You think I would be friends with Snivellus –” 

“Black is simply to immature–” 

“Snivelly was such a looser–” 

“Ahem,” Amelia Bones interrupted, looking very amused, lips twitching upward. “I think that will be enough. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Sirius begrudgingly quieted down but didn’t stop the malicious looks he sent in Snape’s direction. Snape seemed to also be giving as good as he was getting. Harry didn’t know why anyone would think this would go any differently. 

“Next question.” Umbridge said slightly wearily. “Mr. Snape, can you please recall the events that led you to the belief that Sirius Black is innocent?” 

Snape sneered but obliged. “In 1994, at the end of the school year, I heard the first recountings of the true version of events by Lupin and Black. However, I was… incapacitated, afterward, and cannot recount what happened further than when I woke up and prevented Granger and Weasley from injuring themselves in the face of a threat.” 

“And what threat may that be?” Umbridge asked. Sirius shot an alarmed look in Remus’s direction. Remus blanched. 

“A magical creature,” Snape said vaguely, but Umbridge sneered, a malicious glint in her eye.

“What magical creature?” Umbridge pressed, despite knowing very well what magical creature it was. 

“Your mom,” Harry interrupted, genuinely and wholly tired of Umbridge’s bullshit. Snape’s mouth actually ticked upward and Sirius snickered. Umbridge’s eye twitched, but she once again didn’t say anything. Harry grinned. His silver tongue was certainly garnering a reputation in the Ministry. 

[hell-drabbles]

Ahhh thank you for responding to my drabble very well! It's been on my draft for a long time now and so is this one. I'm a little embarrassed about this since I feel like I'm striving away from the original personality of the characters:///

Summary (?): you forcedly got dragged by the devils in hades to their place. Claiming that their lord wishes to have your presence present next to him, you happily oblige yet you never seem to spare the Envy any attention. After all, presence is all he ever ask right?

-

"Solomon"

"Yeah?"

You didn't bother to look away from your book even when you feel the heavy stares burning on your side and instead moving your body in another direction, complete hiding your face with your back facing the person.

This doesn't sit right in the said person. Leviathan, the king of hades and the embodiment of envy itself, cross his arms as he keeps staring at you, an attempt that if he continues to stare at you, you might have had enough and finally will look at him.

But that never happened.

You remain stubborn as your eyes are stuck and repeatedly move back and forth with every etters, words and paragraph you can catch on. Not even the slightest thing he does bother you. Almost like he's just a background, which currently is what it really looks like.

Leviathan's gaze grows hard and dark as he approaches you. Every tread makes you unconsciously count with the help of the voice in your head.

1

2

3

4

5

...6

He halted as his tall body loomed over yours, he took a quick glance at the book on your hand before looking at your head. his eyes crinkling in a weight of even more jealousy. How you're able to put your attention and even caress such a mudane object instead of using it to the the king himself. He feels so jealous and that's what's amused you more than anything.

He spoke in low and quiet tone "what even is in that thing that you cannot even look at me? I'm sure that I'm much more interesting to admire than some books in there." He asked as he obsessively search for anything, anything that can be reasoned for his envy. There's not a single shame in his voice. Almost like it's a total normal behavior to be furiously jealous over simple things. You never meet someone who can be petty as leviathan and if your being fair, leviathan is the only person you had in mind, first to Satan.

"Because..." You slowly close the book as you jump out of the seat and walking straight to the door.

"I like it" without anymore words, you close the door. Leaving the envy all by himself standing awkwardly like a stick.

And it doesn't force you to do anything.

-

Levi is officially my favorite toy now 👉👈🐮

Ohohohoho. The more I'm seeing of him through screenshots, the more I'm enjoying mentally making him suffer.

You like it. You like the aged pages of the book. You like the words carefully written upon them as they weaved the story. You like the cover that was handmade and lovingly bound to hold everything together. You like the light wear and tear of the edges, a clear mark of how many times it's been handled and used. You like...

You like this book that Leviathan was so horribly jealous of. Many things, too many things about this book simply didn't resemble him. What was so interesting about this book? Was it simply better to indulge in a fantasy when the reality that is Leviathan can serve so much better? He is not an imaginary image to be shaped by the words of someone else. By the author that penned this book that you held in your hand.

You would rather touch pages than tug at his clothes. You would rather breath in the air of aged books than take in his pristine scent. You would rather have your eyes ache after hours of reading than refresh your eyes with his image when he grants you the opportunity.

Should he? Should he burn that book? Should he go find the author that made it and pry open their head to rip their mind out? Should he destroy every library that ever exists so that you have no choice but to entertain him as you do yourself?

But that would change nothing. There would be no warmth in your eyes to return the ones boiling underneath his skin. That would bring him no closer to you reaching out to brush your fingers over his cheeks when they flush with unbridled lust.

If Leviathan gives in and rips everything you love apart, you would still not give him anything.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 19: Runaway: Talk about their feelings? Pffft. Nope.

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

What just happened?

Meek Kaya act: head down, hand palming the dagger I kept strapped to my upper arm, mock-obedient… confused as hell.

No one followed us out. Mitsuhide tossed me up on his horse and swung up after, so quickly that we were gone into the rainy night - possibly while everyone was still bemused by our performance. Shojumaru/Motonari might have realized that we’d been searching the place, but we could count on Yoshimoto to muddy the waters a bit, and keep de Sousa's focus on the Chinese ceramics.  

The pouring rain that made it impossible to debrief also made for a wet and uncomfortable journey back to the townhouse. This time of year, Sakai was cold at night, and I finally understood the term 'huddled for warmth.' As we plodded through the cold wet night, I continued to shiver. When Mitsuhide pressed himself closer in response, I could feel those lean muscles through both of our wet clothes.

We’re …snuggling?

We’re not snuggling!

This was just an act of physical self-preservation.

Emotional self-preservation advised me to keep away from Mitsuhide and the dangerous temptation he was proving to be. He kissed me… twice. Maybe that first kiss had been a clinically detached kiss of an actor, but the second one…That second kiss… There was a part of me that was convinced it been the kiss of a man.

Of Mitsuhide.

My logic reminded the rest of me that it had only been a way for an experienced director to get his leading lady to perform the scene perfectly in front of the audience. The only way for that to have been real would be if he were to repeat it in private.

Not happening.

Besides, did it matter? Sure, I could try to decode his motivations from now until the end of time, but my feelings were more important anyway. Those are what I needed to decode.

Ok. So he’s attractive.

I had known this since we met. That didn’t mean I was attracted to him. Liar!  Fine. Well, if I was, it didn’t mean anything more than highly active pheromones, or whatever it was that brought two people together. Acting upon the (alleged) attraction would only complicate matters. Truly knowing what went on inside his head was next to impossible, but I didn’t think he had any ideas or plans in my direction. Nothing beyond simply teasing me because it amused him to do so.

Yes. That had to be it. So there was no need to talk about what just happened.

Ever.

When we reached the house, Mitsuhide sent me inside first to dry off and change clothes. Unfortunately, wet clothes meant an Obi knot that was swollen shut, and without Sho's assistance, I remained helplessly stuck in three layers of soaking kimono.

I got out my knife and tried to pry the knot free without any success.  I was considering simply slicing it open when Mitsuhide, looking dry and comfortable in a loose Kimono walked in. (Without knocking… As usual). He lounged against the door frame, having perfected the art of “the standing casual” pose. "Dear me, it cannot be that tragic. I realize that it must be a shock to discover you’re attracted to me, but it's not worth ending your life."

"You see me tangled up in this dratted fabric, and your mind goes there? That's not even an effective tease." Again, I tried to wedge the tip of the dagger through the knot.

"Come here brat, and let’s see if we can rescue your wardrobe, and my reputation." Without waiting for me to move, he strolled over and began working to free me.

"Your reputation?" He looked so comfortable and, well, warm in those clothing that I felt almost relaxed in his company. "Did you have a prior career as an escape artist that I am unaware of?"

Those gold eyes met mine and a tiny muscle in his jaw twitched. No, he was not comfortable at all. "Your maid might be concerned if your clothes are shredded."

“Isn’t that the point of the Kyubei masquerade - to have that sort of reputation?" I bit the inside of my cheek to school my expression as he slipped his hand between obi and my stomach. It almost felt like a caress.

"Kyubei breaks the spirit and dominates via words. He wouldn't need to resort to physical violence." He carefully untangled the cord, all focus apparently on my clothes.

"And this is different from Mitsuhide, how?" I'd certainly been on the wrong side of his words often enough.

"The man I am pretending to be seeks to dominate through fear and harsh words. If I were here as myself, I would have no need to break Kaya’s spirit that way. It's far more amusing to tease." He tapped his finger on my forehead, and slowly drew it down my face as if he were drawing a line. "There is a certain reward to knowing you have coaxed open a bud.  Breaking it off by the stem is a horrible waste." His finger lingered on my lips for a moment. He gazed at me, his mouth lifted in that familiar teasing smirk, before his finger resumed its journey downward.

I pushed his hand away before it got any lower than my throat. "Either way the flower only lasts a short while longer.”

"Perhaps I should borrow a page from your suitor Yoshimoto and tell you that beauty that is short-lived is no less beautiful while alive, and even more lovely in its memory." He refocused his attention on the knot, which finally unraveled under his touch. At his tug, the obi slipped to the floor.

Quickly I grabbed the edges of my kimono to prevent a striptease. "Yoshimoto is not my suitor. I don’t know what he is doing here, but he's not here for me." Or if he was, it was only because Sasuke had asked him to keep an eye on me. Of course, Yoshimoto was also perfectly capable sticking around just to go shopping.

Mitsuhide just raised his eyebrow at my comment.

Belatedly, I stepped back, out of his reach, and turned toward the cupboard where Katsu's clothing was hidden away from Sho's eyes.

His expression changed to one of suspicion when he saw the hakama and kimono. "You aren't going to go prowling the city for more information." It was stated calmly, but it was as much an order to stay put as anything.

"No. I'm freezing and these are the warmest things I own." I carried the clothes behind the screen to change.

"Fair enough." Something sailed over the top of the screen and hit me with a soft plop. Mitsuhide had tossed a drying towel over.

In that moment between switching from Kaya to Katsu, I felt vulnerable, as if the transition period between the concubine and the courier left me to face Mitsuhide without any protective armor. With a shudder, which owed nothing to the cold, I hurried to remove the rest of the wet clothes, dried off, and climbed into the thick fabric of my other life. Katsu's clothes were designed for the mountains of central Japan, but more than that this identity had been like a shield, and I very much needed to shield myself. By the time I emerged, warm, and covered from neck to toe, I felt much more prepared to deal with the man who had kissed me senseless earlier tonight.

Mitsuhide lounged on my futon, hands crossed behind his head. “One of these days, you will realize that such unrevealing clothing is something of a dare.”

Maybe… I'm not the only one needing armor?

"Silver."

He sat up. '”Rather a non-sequitur."

"Senhor de Sousa had no problem working with Nobunaga, in fact he was considering going directly to him with an offer to set up trade more exclusively with Azuchi. Then Shojumaru offered to broker an exchange. Silver for weapons to be transferred to Motonari Mouri." I paused, realizing that I had spoken without taking a breath.

"So it was greed for profit that motivated de Sousa." Mitsuhide rubbed his chin. "That explains the initial loss of the shipment, but it’s difficult to believe that de Sousa would have betrayed Mai and Hideyoshi when they visited him to inquire after the missing weapons.”

Yeah… I agreed with that assessment. de Sousa seemed more interested in profit than politics. And Portugal was more interested in trade than conquest (in this part of the world, anyway). "No, he doesn’t seem to be that sort of risk taker. Motonari’s name wasn’t unexpected but…” I tried to sort out my tension regarding the information about Iekane in order to present it to Mitsuhide calmly. He didn’t need to know that I was newly upset.

“I suggest you breathe a few times before continuing. I will demonstrate, as it appears you have forgotten how.” He placed his hand on his chest and breathed deeply three times.   

As much as I wanted to snark back at him, it was a good suggestion, so I paused to recenter and breathe. “The man supplying the silver is the same person who locked me inside that crate five years ago. So that might connect Mai and Hideyoshi’s disappearance to Aki’s, but I'm not sure how." What I needed was one of those case walls with strings and pushpins, like they used in all those old cop dramas.

Mitsuhide patted the futon. “Dear me, you’ll wear a hole in the mat with that pacing. Sit.”

I’d been pacing? Huh. I plopped down next to him, hoping that discussing this information could push out all the weird vibes from earlier.

"Start with him then. What do you know about this..." Mitsuhide left his sentence hanging.

"Yamaoka Iekane, no, he’s not related. Aki has us all use his name." In de Sousa’s letter, Shojumaru had referred to him as Kanamore Iekane. "He's using Kanamore now as a paternal name."

"Are you certain it's the same person? Iekane is not an uncommon name.'' Of course Mitsuhide had to be thorough, but something in me resented what felt like borderline gaslighting.

Needing something to do with my hands, I picked up one of the locks I’d been practicing on, and got to work on decoding it. "I have no proof, but he was in that warehouse five years ago at the same time as Motonari. So they do have a prior acquaintance."

“When you said Aki has you all use his name that suggests you have another name. It also suggests… he's not your father after all?" It was posed as a question, but Mitsuhide's soft voice held an accusation.

"He is my father, but for a long time he did not reveal that to me. I believed he was just a man who rescued me from an attack and gave me a place to live and a purpose." I concentrated on the lock, but I was really just aimlessly spinning the tumblers. Mitsuhide stayed quiet until I felt compelled to add, "he did not explain any further.”

"You did not ask? Brat, my acquaintance with you has been fairly short, but even I'm aware this is one of the first things you would have asked." He brushed his hand along the side of my jaw. “That mouth of yours is never still.”

That was unfair… especially given that I had ignored him for over half a week. I gave him a look.

“When you are in an argumentative mood, which, you must admit, is fairly often.” He tapped my forehead, which, yes, I am aware was a dare to argue, but I was more interested in continuing the story… getting it over with.

"Um. He told me in that coded letter you stole." He'd already known I broke into his room to look for it. And now he’d be aware that I'd found it, but I had no other answer to his question aside from the truth.

"Mm. I did wonder if you'd located my hiding spot. Why did you leave it in there?" He took the lock away from me so that I would have to look at him.

"So that you could steal it from me again and hide it somewhere else? Or keep it on your person?" Which he had done anyway, as he had taken his puzzle box with him when he went on walkabout to Azuchi. "Is this important now? I thought your focus was Mai and Hideyoshi, and not my own property and history.”

He inclined his head to acknowledge my point. “By all means. Please tell me what you know about Iekane… which, I imagine does indeed have some bearing on your history.”

“I haven't seen Iekane for five years. And at the time… Aki told me he thought Iekane was motivated purely by jealously. But now I wonder if something else is going on.” Something connected to the time travel? But Iekane wasn’t related to that – at least, I didn’t think he was. But what if-. I temporarily shut down that line of thinking. If I told Mitsuhide about the time travel, would he believe me? Or could I talk around it?

"Once again, I'm going to ask you what you aren't telling me." He turned my chin so I was looking right into those eyes, and it was absolutely the wrong time for that prickly feeling to return. Combined with the off-balance sensation that lingered from the kiss, I had a momentary BSOD as a rush of heat swept through me.

Finally my natural instincts kicked in, reminding me that this man was dangerous – dangerous in ways that I hadn’t imagined when we first met. While I trusted Mitsuhide with my life, I couldn’t trust him with myself. Not when this wasn't only my secret - it was Aki's, and Mai's and Francisco’s and Sasuke's. And so I gave him a different truth, a painful one, one that would protect four other people. "I thought I might be in love with him - Iekane. That is how he was able to trick me into the box. He kissed me a few times." I was grateful that it had not gone any further than that, but still vaguely sick to my stomach at the memory. At the fact that I had let things go even as far as they had.

The look on Mitsuhide’s face suggested that he'd been expecting a dessert buffet and received a package of airline peanuts.

"You must have been fairly young. A few kisses at that age is to be expected." He tugged on my hair. "Should you want more recent kisses to erase his from your memory, I am willing to oblige." He was teasing again, that was obvious. “Certainly, I can do far better than the man who tried to kill you.”

Oh yeah. No question there. But Mitsuhide’s kisses have a lethal effect all their own.

"Two wrongs don’t equal a right.” Oh great. I have resorted to quoting my mother. “In any case, my lips have nothing to with this. What should we do about Shojumaru, a.k.a… er, I mean, also known as Motonari?"

Mitsuhide returned to business as easily as that. "Motonari has access to an entire navy. Perhaps he's keeping Mai and Hideyoshi on one of those ships. Or he may already have taken them to one of the smaller islands in the South. I told Nobunaga to prepare a ship and have it meet us here, while I continue to keep watch over Shojumaru."

"Just you? What should I be doing?" As long as I was still metaphorically tied to Mitsuhide, I didn’t want to be doing nothing.

He raised one eyebrow. I raised both back. I really need to learn that single eyebrow thing.

"As I pointed out earlier tonight, you do indeed resemble a startled rabbit when you do that." At that comment, I deployed my best, the absolute top of the line glare… and he mockingly wiggled his nose and ears. Only when I folded my hands in my lap and put on my ‘ok I’m listening patiently expression,’ did he continue. "We will continue to keep an eye on Shojumaru - as I surmise if I don't take you with me, you will go out on your own as Katsu."

"Or, here's an idea. I can go out with you as Katsu. I could be Kyubei's apprentice or page or assistant.” Katsu’s clothes were much easier to run in. 

"Kaya will come with me." He tugged on my hair again. "Your disguise is very good, but anyone who has seen me with Kaya and then sees me with Katsu will be bound to remark upon the resemblance."

Ugh. He had a point. But at least I wouldn’t be left behind. That was something. “As you wish.”

He snickered. "Are you actually agreeing with me? I ought to kiss you more often."

That deserved an eyeroll and I provided it. But I was eager to divert the topic from that kiss. "Here's a thought. If you fully explain your plans and motivations logically, you might find I agree more often than when you issue orders or tease me."

"The latter is more fun. You might find that eventually you'll enjoy my teasing." Rather than touching me, he ran his finger across his lips, drawing attention to them. "As always the offer of renegotiating our contract is open."

"No thank you.'' I faked a yawn, and stretched. "Now, if you don’t mind, it's been a long night and I'd like to sleep."

"If you say so. Make yourself comfortable." He scooted over, giving me room to lie down in my own bed.

"Alone." I hadn't thought it was necessary to clarify that, but as always Mitsuhide had to make each conversation a contest.

He placed his hand over his heart in an exaggerated charade of romantic disappointment, but obligingly got up. Then, he pulled the quilt around me and neatly tucked me in. For one half-horrified, half-thrilled moment, I thought he was going to kiss me goodnight, but instead, he just tapped my forehead. "Goodnight, Brat."

There wasn’t anything else to say, except, "Goodnight."

By the time I heard Sho clattering around in the kitchen the next morning, I had been awake for too long. Nightmares about Iekane's kiss had merged into far less nightmarish but equally disturbing (in retrospect) dreams about Mitsuhide's kiss. Both had been an act, but Mitsuhide's fake kiss had been enticing enough to make me wonder what it would be like if he kissed me and meant it.

But that snip of hair he had saved in his puzzle box made it clear that someone, somewhere had a prior claims on his heart.

Not that I wanted it anyway.

Therefore any kissing (or beyond) that I did with him, would be purely for the fun of it. And while I wasn’t opposed to that idea in principle, but it was a door I was… well I was afraid to open it.

Certain that my restless night was written on my face, I considered hiding in my room until he was gone for the day, but someone was bound to come looking for me. It was less work to just get up. I dressed in one of Kaya's least restrictive kimonos, and loosely attached a ribbon-like sash instead of the thicker, more formal obi. I was getting bored of Kaya's forcibly shortened steps. Worn this way, the kimono might drag on the ground a little, but I could almost take my normal stride.

When I made my way into the kitchen, it was to see that Hiko had joined us again. Mitsuhide was nowhere to be seen - not that he often ate breakfast with me anyway. Not that he eats anything resembling food either.

"Kyubei is downstairs in the office." Sho answered my unasked question. “He said that you should meet him there after you eat." She cast a critical look at the mess I had made of my kimono. "After I fix that."

Huh, yeah, figured she wouldn't let my too casual look slide. I took the bowl of stewed fruit and rice from her and knelt next to Hiko. "Is this your second breakfast again?"

"Third." Hiko spoke with his mouth full while Sho added, "He ate a rice ball on the way."

Wondering if I could casually find out if Shojumaru had a ship anchored nearby I asked, "Are heading down to the docks today?"

Hiko simply nodded this time, without adding any more information as he powered through his third meal of the day. I ate slowly, trying to figure out how to ask for additional details without appearing too suspicious. I finally settled on noting that Shojumaru had been at the 'banquet' last night. "I didn’t realize he had an interest in art. Does he import anything like that? Statues, vases from the west?"

"I haven't seen any." Hiko didn’t seem interested.

I decided to embellish the question, and added, "Kyubei has an interest and his birthday is soon." In all honesty, I had no idea when Mitsuhide's natal day actually was, but Sho perked up. Oh, because… shopping. I might end up regretting asking, if it meant spending a day sifting through trinkets in the market.

"The next time you and I have a free day, we can go to the marketplace and see what we can find.” She thought a moment. “We could go to some artisan’s workshops too.”

I regret asking.

Then she folded her hands and put on a look of fake indifference. “Or... maybe that Yoshimoto will help us?"

Ha! I thought he had made an impression on her. Although maybe not as much of one as I had hoped, for she added, "Maybe if Shojumaru sees me with someone like Yoshimoto, he'll be more interested in me?"

"Don’t be stupid. Leave him alone, Sho." Hiko handed her his empty plate to wash. "Shojumaru has better things to do than hang around with you." Before he could torture his sister any further, his attention skittered off into another direction and he pulled the three juggling bags that I (as Katsu) had given him, out of his kimono. "Kaya, let me show you what I can do!"

He awkwardly tossed the bags in the air, sending them careening in all directions. As he scrambled around the kitchen to catch them, he banged right into Sho, causing her to drop a bowl on the floor.

"Outside!” She made a shooing motion toward the stairs. "He's already destroyed a vase at home."

Oops. It was my fault for starting him on this hobby, so I followed Hiko down the steps and through the public areas of the townhouse, where Mitsuhide's fake business was doing its fake business thing.

"Going somewhere?" Mitsuhide didn’t exactly grab my arm and pull me back, but his voice had the same effect of stopping me in my tracks.

"Only to the entry. Hiko is going to show off his juggling skills, and they're sufficiently random enough for Sho to bar us from the kitchen." I nodded at where Hiko’s next beanbag toss nearly missed knocking a noh mask off the shelf.

"Ah." He bent his head back to the letter he was writing, which I took as tacit permission to keep going. Not that I would have stopped in any case. But... details.

I left him to it and hurried to the entry, where Hiko was already dancing on the edge of the curb, his face set in concentration as he tossed the bags into the wind. I wished I were dressed as Katsu so that I could give him a few pointers to help him control the toss.

A few times the bags went far to the left or behind him, causing him to jump back and forth between the sidewalk and the street. It was still too early in the morning for there to be any casual pedestrians to be bothered by this, although even at this hour, the city was not quiet. At the other end of the street, an oxcart carrying crates of, well, I assumed sake, pulled up in front of a restaurant. A couple fishermen came up from the direction of the harbor, both lugging baskets of their fresh catch.

Following them was a lone man, strolling, the epitome of ‘acting casual.’ As he approached, the figure became recognizable as Shojumaru. He halted across the street, and leaned against a building. The expression on his face was intent… almost angry? Was he watching the house? I supposed he could simply be waiting for Hiko. More likely, if I asked him what he was doing, he would probably use the kid as an excuse.

When he realized I had seen him, those features quickly rearranged into that affable smile.

Right. Smilers. Never trust them.

Further away came a crack that echoed through the street.

Gunshot?

Shojumaru and I both immediately alerted and looked around.

There … a man, just in profile, slipping around the corner of the restaurant.

The profile was enough though – it was Iekane.

Before I could give chase to him, I realized that barreling down the street was the sake merchant's cart, the startled ox gathering speed, as the leather yoke strap dragged on the road behind.

Completely oblivious, Hiko stayed in the street as he leaped after and caught a bag in one hand. “I got it!” His celebration kept him in the path of the runaway cart.

"Hiko!" He didn’t hear me, but I was already running.

Shojumaru was rushing toward the boy too, but I was closer. Even with the impediment of the narrow kimono, I got to Hiko first. I grabbed his arm and flung him at Shojumaru, who caught the kid and set him on his feet, safely out of the way of the frightened ox.

I turned back toward the townhouse, but something tangled under my foot – the trailing fabric of the loose sash.

One moment of useless flailing was followed by the image of the street rushing toward my face.

Shit, this is going to hur-

@bestbryn @lorei-writes @lyds323 @selenacosmic @tele86 @akitsuneswife

[to-the-stars8]

So I just read Mr. Todd and I and my heart is SQUEALING

Can we get Royal AU where Y/N and Jason are betrothed and she’s like “reminds me of one of my novels” and he’s like “you read” and that kicks off their bond

*happy claps* plz

Lowkey feels this is a bit away from the initial prompt, but I still hope you like it! And thank you!! Mr. Todd and I is legit one of my favorite stories to write. xoxo

You caught him crawling up the lattice panel next to the balcony with his boot caught in a vine. The man who was sneaking in was handsome and well dressed, a drunken diplomat or a lover of someone with noble standing. He was large with muscles and contained a surprising amount of silence in his movements. Cursing, he kicked his leg wildly which caused the panel to shake. 

“I would be careful if I were you,” You said, leaning over the railing, pointing beyond him. The man turned up to look at you, eyes widened with surprise that he had been caught. “If you fall, it will be right into the fountain.”

He stared at you a moment longer before asking, “Who are you?”

“Shouldn’t it be I asking you that question since you are the one breaking into the party?” You smiled, putting your chin on your hands as you continued to watch him struggle. 

Despite asking the question of your identity, he had started to recognize you the longer he stared through the moonlight for he had been dazed by the portraits your father sent more than a dozen times. And your letters, they resembled the actual words that fell from your pretty lips. 

Be as pretty as you were in person, the man still scoffed, not amused by what you were implying, but thinned his lips before answering. He seemed almost ashamed that you had caught him in such an embarrassing moment. “I have an invitation.”

“People who have invitations usually come through the front door, sir.”

A chuckle left his lips. You were cunning, the man would not deny himself of that. He let out a long, defeated sigh. “I am running late. It would be humiliating to come through the front door.”

You laughed, quickly, before pushing yourself up to lean further over the balcony. “I believe this is much more humiliating, sir.”

“Ah, but I have provided you amusement,” He declared. “So it would have been worth it.”

“You know,” You said after a moment of silence. “This reminds me of a story, I doubt you have read it--if you can read. Jack and the Beanstalk. In one part, the boy gets his foot stuck while climbing down--”

“Are you implying I am illiterate?” The man nearly yelled, obviously offended.

You giggled. “Sir, I am not. I am simply displaying how little I know of you.”

“And your first notion of my character is that I cannot read? Whatever gave you that impression?”

You didn’t need to answer the question as you gave him a once over, silently telling him that people who climbed up walls were not often ones reading books. Or being taught to read books. 

“I see your meaning,” He stated. “In any case, from what I can see of your character so far is that you are absolutely judgmental. And rude.”

You scoffed, now insulted. “Judgemental I can see, but rude? Sir, how have I done anything to be rude?”

“Not offer me help! You have watched me struggle, a guest with an invitation to your party and a prince you are to marry, without so much as a suggestion of how to get me free.” He replied quickly. 

Shock crossed your face followed by merriment. So this is where the missing prince had gone to? Covering your mouth, you turned so he would not see you fight the string of laughter desperate to spring free from you. Jason’s father had provided his absence as a matter of state, but you doubted hanging onto the side of your home was meant to be stately. 

Turning back, you reached down into the front of your corset, pulling out a small dinner knife. “Catch!”

Jason caught the knife, luckily not stabbing his hand in the process, and easily cut the vine. He climbed the rest of the way up, hauling himself over the railing before standing in front of you in all his glory. He was tall, too, you noted. You curtsied and he bowed in response, as was proper of your stations. 

“Not many people carry knives in their corset,” Jason stated as you plucked the knife from his hands to put it back in its’ place. 

Coyly you responded, “I keep it for when I am hungry. Or in trouble.”

“Very versatile use of it,” He commented. “Do you read with it as well?”

Giggling, you turned away from him to hide the flush on your cheeks before taking a few steps across the other side of the balcony. Jason followed you, humming the tune of the music coming through the door, already entranced by you. 

“I do read with it,” You teased, pulling the knife back out-- making sure the prince saw exactly where it was hidden between your breasts--to demonstrate the use. Holding the knife straight out, you pretended to flip a book page with it. “For when my fingers are tired.”

Chuckling, Jason said, “You will have to show me how to use it, then. With an actual book.”

“Is that before or after I teach you how to read?”  You mused. 

Yes, this would be a very interesting engagement, Jason thought.

[stellalunatmblr]

The Flower Path | Chapter 6

Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; rom-com (romance as a subplot), slow burn (the slowest of burns holy moly i cannot stress this enough), fluff, angst  (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law

Word Count: 6.5k

Chapter Note: yikes sorry for the long wait T-T

masterlist

-

"Stop staring at that." Yoongi tried to conceal the paper you were holding with his hand, but you snatched it away from him. You give him a playful sneer before straightening up in your seat and bringing the paper back to your face. 

"But it's so beautiful," You exclaimed in a theatrical manner, even letting out a slight gasp for more impact. Needless to say, the person next to you was not amused.

"I agree. It's lovely," a deep voice whispers from near you, and you turn to see Taehyung peering into your paper. He pulls something from his back and shows you his as well. He shuts his eyes and nods slowly as you lift your palms into your lips to conceal your astonished gasp.

"I know, I know," he says, patting your head to "comfort" you. Minyoung smiles at the antics and pulls a chair around to face where you were currently sitting.

"You people are so dramatic," she says as she rolls her eyes and pries your hands away from your face.

“Hey! Let us have this. It's not often that we receive flawless grades on everything," Taehyung remarks whiningly with a pout, and you gag, receiving a gentle smack on the shoulder from him.

“How did everyone else do?” Yoongi asks as he looks around for your other friends. 

“I think we all did exceptional on this one. Study group has been working out really well; I'm amazed it really worked for us,” Taehyung says and you nod in agreement.

Hoseok returns to the classroom after momentarily excusing himself to take a phone call. “Everything okay?” Yoongi asked cautiously and Hobi just gave him a slight nod.

“Yep, everything’s fine. My mom just told me she’d have to work overtime so I should just get myself dinner.” He answers as he eyes you sitting on his chair. You were about to stand up to offer him his seat back, but he simply shook his head at you, so you sat down again.

Yoongi tried to read into his friend's face as he spoke to you guys. After years of friendship, you'd think he'd know everything about Hoseok, yet he still has trouble reading him sometimes. He's simply really adept at always wearing his smiling mask. He sits up straight and clears his throat.

“I’ll join you for dinner. I’m sick of seeing my brother’s face all the time at home anyway.” He offers and Hobi sends him a grateful smile. “You know what? We should ask if everyone’s free, then we should all have dinner together.” He adds, and he sees his friend’s eye light up. A smile pulls from his face at the reaction.

Yoongi is well aware that Hoseok dislikes being alone. He spent so much of his childhood alone that he now wants company wherever he goes. After all, it's the reason he and Yoongi became friends. As children, they would always meet at their parents' work functions, and Hobi would always accompany the bashful boy who seemed to want to be anywhere but a fancy affair full of grownups. Yoongi tried to brush him off every time, but his grumpy disposition had no effect on the boy, who clung to him like gum. He's thankful Hoseok didn't give up on him; he wouldn't know what to do without him.

“I think that’s a great idea! We all have something to celebrate anyway.” Minyoung says before rushing over along with Taehyung to relay the information to your other friends.

"Yeah, and don't be bothered about dinner.  I'll ask my dad to make some for us, and we'll pick it up from the restaurant," you say as you rise from your seat. You pull out your phone and indicate that you're about to make a phone call, and they all nod.

Hoseok takes his seat and glances at Yoongi, who has his gaze drawn away from him. He grins again, remembering how thankful he is for his friend. He immediately engulfs his best friend in a hug and even makes smooching noises, while Yoongi, as usual, tries to stop him with a twisted up face.

As he moves away from Yoongi, he softly pats his back and offers him a knowing look of appreciation. He knows his friend well enough to realize that expressing himself verbally is difficult for him, so he expresses himself in other ways. Yoongi nods and ruffles his hair, their unspoken conversation filling the air around them with warmth. They've always had each other's back in everything, and this moment just served to reinforce that.

The thought of a little get-together appeared to excite everyone, and it so happened that everyone could come. The group was divided into teams; some were sent to fetch the food, some to get the dessert, and others to go straight to the Jung residence to prepare for the guests.

You decided to take Minyoung and Jungkook with you with an ulterior motive in mind. Jungkook's dismissal of the entire budget negotiating situation has troubled you every time you see him. How can someone who was so determined to make something happen give up so easily? It also doesn't help when you notice him looking dejected when he thinks no one is watching.

You were on your way to the restaurant on the bus when you decided to (not-so-subtly) bring up the subject of the conversation. You cleared your throat while Minyoung was raving about a volleyball game she saw on TV the day before. 

“Speaking of, the sports committee meeting is next week.” You bring up and Minyoung gives you a questioning look. You return it with a knowing one, trying to get her to work with you.

“Right. You must be really busy preparing paperwork for that, don't you?" She responds with a glance that says, Right now? Really? You widen your eyes at her and nod in the direction of Jungkook. Her jaw drops open in realization but she nods in understanding.

"Yeah, but we've planned ahead of time enough to decrease the load because it's so close. I think we can take on some other projects as well..." You tried to ease into the subject.

“Really? I think you've got enough work to do with the next practice games," Jungkook adds nonchalantly, staring out the window like an anime protagonist. Heh.

You fumble over your words. "Ah- That's-" You were at a loss for words since he was right! Because the rest of the practice games will be hosted by Kkotgil, there is a lot of documentation and inventory that has to be completed. And it would reflect poorly on the school if you didn't plan this well. "It's not that bad, really," you chuckle awkwardly, turning to look at Minyoung, who is trying not to laugh at you. You scowl at her and determine that beating around the bush isn't going to work.

You sigh and turn to face Jungkook. "I want to talk to you about the budget negotiation you mentioned," you told him flatly, amazed at how confident you sounded considering you'd never truly spoken to him like this before.

He throws his head back in irritation before turning to face you. "I thought I told you to forget about it," he replies sternly, but it doesn't faze you in the least.

You sighed exasperatedly as you peered at him. "I know, but you seemed so adamant about it, so I don't understand why you gave up so fast," you retorted gently. Fighting fire with fire, as far as you can gather, will not work on this guy.

He opted to avert your eyes, so you just kept going. "Listen, you're under no obligation to tell me anything you don't want to. Maybe just tell me enough to make the Coach think I know everything. I doubt he'll quiz me about it anyway." You shrugged, trying to make it sound like it's not a big deal, but you know by now that it is for him.

He fiddled with his hands on his lap, and the quiet hushed conversation you were having appeared to prompt Minyoung to intervene. She offers Jungkook a reassuring smile, and his stiff shoulders loosen.

"I'm not sure how much to tell you without..." He trailed off and returned his gaze to the window.

"It's about your relationship with the team, isn't it?" You can see his eyes widen at your comment. "I figured so. You know, you're not very subtle." You add, and he let out a wry laugh at that.

"Says you," he responds sarcastically. You caught the insinuation in his tone but you don't want to go into it right now because this conversation is about him. You decide to brush that last bit off and sit up straight.

“Hey, I’m just letting you know that option is on the table.” You opt to continue instead of looking at him. "And remember, even after the meeting is over, you can still talk to me about it. I'm more to you than just a manager. I'm also your friend," you say as you look around, catching Minyoung's gaze and returning her smile.

"I'll be there when you're ready to tell me. We'll all be there for you." You return your glance to him, but he has a distant expression in his eyes that tells you he's thinking about something.

You gave a final shrug before pressing the button to notify the driver that you'd like to exit at the next stop. Minyoung wraps her arm around yours as you exit the bus. "You were so cool," she adds with a laugh, and you just grin and shake your head.

It didn’t feel cool for you to say; it was hypocritical advice. Who were you to tell him that he can tell you guys anything, when not so long ago you completely shut them all out without an explanation? You laugh at yourself. You were beginning to doubt yourself. Perhaps you should just leave him alone and let him deal with his shit. You don't have to pry into other people's lives when you're determined to build your walls as high as possible, allowing others to view only a fraction of you.

But, a little voice within your head argues, you know better now. You know better now that it doesn't hurt to depend on them now and again, especially when they are willing to be there for you. With that in mind, you loosen up, and tighten Minyoung’s arms that were tangled with yours. 

"Hey," Jungkook's voice yelled out from behind you as you approached the restaurant's door, forcing you and your friend to spin around to face him. "I'll think about it," he adds timidly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled at him.

“Okay.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

When the entire group is together, it is always chaotic. With all of the food laid out on the table, you know your dad went all out for the occasion. At this point, you'd think he'd be feeding the entire neighborhood. He’s just that thrilled at the prospect of you having friends. Your friends, on the other hand, were grateful and as a sign of gratitude, they promised to finish everything.

As soon as the group was complete, you all tucked into the food. True to their word, they did manage to finish almost everything that was laid out. Well, considering you were a bunch of growing teenagers, it shouldn’t be surprising that you all had an increased appetite. It was after you all ate dinner and were resting your stomachs to make room for dessert were you able to properly look around Hoseok’s home that he shared with his mom. During the conversation at the table, he mentioned that he was an only child.

You sat on the sofa and left the others sitting on the floor around the coffee table where you all ate. There was an abundance of personal clutter around the living room, which gave the house a more homey appearance. There were trophies, medals, but what caught your attention were the number of pictures of Hobi and his mother that were either hung on the wall or placed neatly on the shelves. They smiled in all the photos, and while it was obvious in his single shots that he was being made to strike a particular pose, he still had a wide grin on his face.

“These are really cute. You seemed like such a bright and cheerful child,” You suddenly commented without looking at the group, but their chatter died down at your remark. You look at them to question the silence and you see them looking at Hobi who had his lips on a grim line, and the rest who seemed like they were observing the situation. You didn't even get to ask about his mom, which you wanted to do just to make conversation and in an attempt to get to know him more. Hoseok briefly caught himself slipping before breaking into his trademark grin. You see Jin lean back on his seat and cross his arms with a sigh from your peripheral vision.

“Do you guys wanna play games? I don’t have a gaming console because we usually game at Yoongi’s, but I do have some board games and cards.” He offers and the atmosphere at the table suddenly brightens again. You scrunch your eyebrows, finding all of their reactions odd. You don’t know if you were reading into this too much but you wondered why him having that expression silenced the whole table. It was normal for you to be grumpy and frown at every little thing, so you understand why Hobi reacted like that, as it might have been rude for him when you said something about his childhood pictures. You facepalmed yourself when no one was looking. It looks like you've gotten better at making these guys uncomfortable with unsolicited comments ever since you started to feel at ease around them. Well done, you.

The group decided to play a card game while enjoying dessert, and it soon became tense and competitive. It was a wonderful change to hear laughing and playful banter fill the Jung family's living room. During one particularly heated and power-up-heavy round, Jimin noticed his friend shifting in his seat.

“You okay?” He asks in a hushed voice despite the risk of being barely audible because of the commotion on the table.

Jungkook gave him a quick glance before smiling briefly. “Yeah, just thinking about something.” He was considering what you had said to him. He noticed that you appeared hesitant to provide him that advice, and he thinks he understands why. Nevertheless, he appreciated your attempt and the fact that it was done in good faith. Once again, he's grateful that you and Minyoung didn't avoid him because he's been an insufferable prick for no apparent reason..

“You’re thinking? That’s new.” Jimin joked around and earned a playful nudge in return. There was silence between the two as they quietly took their own turns in the game and let the others carry all the playful conversations. “You wanna talk about it? ” He asks tentatively while pretending to watch the others play; he even notices Jin sneaking a glance at Namjoon's cards before returning to his own, but Yoongi had also snuck a glance at his cards while he was distracted. Jimin shook his head in disbelief at his friends.

“Actually..” Jungkook trailed off. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I finally want to talk about it.” He says.

Jimin hums in response. “Okay. Should we break off from the group or-” Jungkook cut him off frantically before he finished, rubbing at his nape.

“N-no. I was thinking.. I was thinking of finally telling everyone about what happened.” He said. Jimin had his mouth agape at his friend’s revelation. Among this group of friends, only him and Taehyung knew about Jungkook’s situation with his teammates. They found it difficult when Jungkook obstinately refused their assurances that what had happened was not his fault. Perhaps some new perspectives on the matter could be helpful. Perhaps if it came from recently made friends, he would believe them.

It would be too much for Jungkook, he thinks, to tell you and Minyoung the story and then maybe have to tell it to the others again. He figures it would be best to take care of everything at once, much like ripping off a band aid.

“Are you sure?” Jimin tries to give him an out in the event that he doesn’t really want to do this, but he just nods.

“Okay. You can ask Tae or myself to take over if you find it too difficult to recount the story. " Jimin gives his friend a reassuring shoulder pat, prompting a hesitant nod.

Looking around the table, Jungkook considers how he will abruptly bring up a serious topic in the midst of laughter. He was on the verge of fleeing out of fear that he could destroy the mood and his friends' opinion of him. He was aware that doing this might disrupt the dynamics of the group. When he has finished telling them everything and they decide they don't like him and want to cut all ties with him, he will let them do just that. At least the friendship wasn't old enough to have caused a wound that deep yet. He knew Jimin and Tae would be by him no matter what, which is also comforting.

He tries to test whether anyone would notice by clearing his throat once, but in the past few minutes, the group has only grown rowdier due to Jin's alleged cheating. Taehyung, who was more attentive of his friends, saw him and then made an effort to make everyone quiet.

"Jungkook, did you have anything to say?" he inquired loudly enough to get the group's attention, and all of a sudden, heads turned to look at him. He senses the attention making his blood run cold and his hand tremble, but he braces himself. However, he was cut off before he could speak.

"I promise I wasn't looking! Are your playing cards nearly finished?" Jin stretches out and flips Jungkook's cards that were on the table.

“Ayy, these aren’t even good cards, you have been bound to lose with these.”

After that, chaos reigned yet again.

“See, you just cheated again! ”

"No, I didn't. I simply provided him with advice."

“Boo! You’re disqualified! ”

In response to the chaos, Jungkook finds himself actually giggling. Though he hasn't known these people for very long, he feels as though he can trust them in some way. But he also thinks that losing them would hurt, so he felt a tiny tightness in his chest.

“I did want to say something. And it has nothing to do with the cards.” He begins, and the group quiets down again, but he does not feel the heaviness in the air this time. He glances around the table and finds them looking at him expectantly, as if they are genuinely interested in hearing him out. He regained his composure and braced himself once more.

“It’s about what happened last year..”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

“You’re late again!” The captain scolds the boy and throws the ball at his head, letting it bounce off and back to his hands.

“Sorry, sorry! I had to run some errands before leaving.” He says and Jungkook, from afar, sighs at the sight of his sunbae being scolded again. 

“You’re lucky you’re a star player, or else I’d give you more shit for this.” The captain says with a shake of his head.

“Wah, look at you being scolded in front of your juniors! How embarrassing!” His batchmate teases, sending everyone into light laughter.

His seniors had usually argued endlessly during training, but everyone knew it was just friendly banter, so it was entertaining to see. Additionally, it improved group dynamics and helped the younger teammates feel comfortable.

Once his Doyun sunbae was done running laps around the court as punishment for being late, he approached Jungkook with a smack on the back.

“Sorry for being late when I promised to run some plays with you.” The older one says with an easy smile. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, hyung. What’s so important that you’re always late to weekend training?” He asked in an irritated tone and shifted his body away from the older guy. He is often irritated by his hyung's repeated promises to assist him in improving his plays but frequently arrives to practice too late. His senior was constantly eager to leave training as soon as it ended, so after-practice hours were off the table as well. He exhales. How was he going to get the attention of his seniors now that he was running for captain of the following year? He hasn't had many chances to demonstrate to them how much he has developed since his first year.

“Yah! Don't treat your sunbae that way! I have a life outside of volleyball, you know?” He said in a defensive tone and one of his batchmates overheard Doyun say this.

“Psh! Even I am aware that is untrue. Volleyball is your life," the guy exclaimed, drawing amusement from others.

“I’ll ask for some personal training time from the captain right now. I gotta make it up to little Jungkook here somehow.” Doyun wraps his arm around the younger’s shoulders and ruffles his hair with the other. Jungkook pries himself off from his hyung before huffing in annoyance.

“I want to practice some quick attacks today.” Jungkook said flatly and went on his merry way, asking Jimin to toss some balls for him.

Doyun was left chuckling at the younger boy’s demands. “He’s quite straightforward, isn't he? Think he’d make for a good captain? ” He remarks, to which the others hum in agreement.

The training was effective at least, and this time Doyun kept his word and gave Jungkook today a lot of assistance. Since they were paired up during practice when Jungkook was still trying out for the volleyball team, he was his closest hyung from the team. He was forced to acknowledge how much of the credit for his rapid progress goes to his hyung.

Doyun wasn't always so disloyal to his commitments. During the freshman year of the three, he actually trained frequently with Jungkook and occasionally even Jimin and Taehyung. He’d tell the younger boys about his dream to play professionally and get recruited into his dream team, and also to give them advice on how to play better. Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s taken quite a liking to his hyung’s presence, despite showing otherwise. He is thankful for having someone to rely on who has more experience than him in the field. He’s like the brother he never had.

However, this year, he had been more evasive, appeared to be constantly on guard, and had been in a hurry to leave every single training session. Jungkook was curious as to what was causing the older guy to act this way, especially when they were nearing the last games of the winter sports season, where there were gonna be professional recruiters, and it was the senior members’ last games of their high school life as well. 

Doyun abruptly excused himself one day to the captain as they were still wrapping up the training and he hurriedly left the gym, oblivious to his batchmates' remarks that he should at least wait until everyone was prepared to leave. When Jungkook noticed it, a strong surge of curiosity about why his hyung is acting in this manner swept over him. He quickly puts on his jacket and makes his way to the gym's exit, earning some questioning yells from Jimin and Taehyung to which he acknowledges with a raise of hand. He then follows the diminutive figure that he believes to be his hyung because he has already traveled a considerable distance.

He was chasing the older man while taking quick, frigid breaths of cold air that pierced his lungs. He had to exercise caution because there were certain areas of the walkway that were slippery; as a result, he nearly fell several times. He succeeds in catching up, though he makes sure to keep a safe distance from Doyun so as not to be seen stalking him. He knows the older man would tell him off when he finds out.

They were nearing a neighboring park after traveling a fair distance into a small neighborhood, and he started to question if this was even a good idea; maybe his hyung was right, he was just busy with other stuff about his personal life. But when Jungkook notices Doyun raising the hood of his jacket, he senses something was off. He continued on following him without trying to give it any attention. Not long after, a group of men his hyung's age emerged from a nearby tree. He immediately noticed his Doyun hyung, who instantly stopped in his tracks, and consequently, he stopped as well. He hides behind a nearby tree as he sees Doyun get stopped in the middle of attempting to walk past the group of guys.

He hears them speaking to his sunbae, and at first the talk is quiet and civil, but as it heats up, the group steadily encircles Doyun in an effort to intimidate him. It appeared to work, which surprised Jungkook. Doyun was typically a laid-back person who laughed a lot and smiled a lot, but everyone who knew him knew that he wasn't the kind to let people walk all over him. Now that he’s seeing him in this light, the looming feeling of dread creeps up in his gut yet again. Doyun wouldn’t be the type to get caught up in gang affairs, would he? He thinks to himself and his hands balled up into tight fists. It would explain his behavior these past few months, though.

When he notices someone pushing Doyun back and making him stumble, he instinctively steps forward. Jungkook realized that this was going to escalate into a fight, and his heartbeat quickened. Before he could decide what to do, he finds himself in a direct confrontation with a member of the group.

“What the hell are you doing to him?” He hears his own voice shout but doesn’t realize that he actually spoke and how he got here.

“Y-yah! What are you doing here!” Doyun grabs the front of his jacket and pulls him.

“Well would you look at that. Is this another one of your brothers? How about we ask him for the money then?” The one who seemed to be the leader of the group eyes Jungkook up and down.

“Leave him alone, he’s not my brother.” Doyun stood in a defensive stance in front of Jungkook which told the guys otherwise.

“Is that right?” The guy brings back his eyes to Jungkook intimidatingly, “But maybe we can still get something out of him. Make him pay for your brother’s debt like a good little friend, hmm?”

Doyun grabbed the leader's collar while two men each grabbed one of Jungkook's arms to hold him down. “I told you to leave him alone, he has nothing to do with this!” He uttered hastily.

The guy punched Doyun in the face, making Jungkook gasp. “Hyung!” He sees blood spill out from the older guy’s mouth and he feels his blood run cold.

“If you gave us our money back, then we wouldn’t be having this problem. You’re really gonna let your brother cower behind your back? How about you bring him to us so he can pay the consequences of his actions.” The guy shoves his pointer finger on Doyun’s forehead, pushing it repeatedly to accent his point. Jungkook sees Doyun clench his jaw so hard he thought it was gonna break.

There were a few seconds of calm when Doyun abruptly threw a punch after slowly rising upright. The subsequent events happened quickly. As the men gather around Doyun, Jungkook finds himself being pushed aside and his body hitting the dirt. In the haste of the situation, he finds himself grabbing a stray piece of long wood and striking several of the men painfully to get them off Doyun, who threw more punches and kicks once he got an opening. They managed to take down enough of them to be able to flee, and Jungkook doesn't recall how it happened, but he finds himself being dragged by his hyung to escape the fight.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Doyun said between catching his breath, still running away. He looks back and sees them being followed and he curses lightly before increasing their pace.

They thought they were in the clear when they stopped on the side of the road. They were both huffing and puffing with their hands resting on their knees, catching their breath. Jungkook looked back and cursed to himself when he saw one of the guys spot them and call out to their companions.

“They saw us hyung, let’s go!” He didn’t bother grabbing his hyung and ran to get a head start. As he was running away he heard someone yell out to him, and a bright light coming from his left. He felt someone pushing him from the back and he painfully landed on the concrete, but nothing hurt more than the sight he saw of Doyun’s body being hit by the car.

Everything moved slowly, and he could hear his ears ringing. He watches the gang members panic and flee the scene, hears cries to get an ambulance, witnesses blue and red lights flashing against the now-darkened surroundings, and hears someone ask him if he was okay.

The rest of it is lost to memory, but when he awoke from his haze, he was sitting in a hospital waiting room covered in bandages, and it wasn't until he was by himself that he finally broke down.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

They listened to Jungkook as he told the story with his head down and avoided making eye contact with the others. The room, which had earlier been alive with voices, was now completely silent.

“He ended up with broken bones all over his body. Inevitably, he couldn’t play the rest of the championship games that season; It’d take months for him to fully recover, and months of physical therapy if they could determine he could ever play again.” He says with a husky tone, his energy being drained with every second he spends talking about this.

“He was our star player, and he held the team together more than we realized. So when we went into the games without him, adding the fact that morale was low and tensions were high inside the team because of the incident, we messed up so much during the games and we… lost everything.

“Seniors who were competing for spots on professional and collegiate teams saw all of their chances to get recruited all go down the drain. All thanks to me. All because I made the decision to be nosy on that specific day.” He began to sob uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking, covering his face with both hands as his voice broke. The group was quick to gravitate towards him and reach their hand out to comfort him, not saying anything as they all know words would not be enough right now.

"The worst part was that nobody was held accountable—not even me, who was clearly responsible for everything. My other batchmates disagree, and even though they didn't bother to learn the whole story, they have since grown to dislike me. It affected how I handled the team as a captain, and I eventually started hating myself for that, too." He struggled to continue through his tears, his words stopped short by breath intake.

He’d asked for a suspension from the coach himself once he told him everything that happened, and he’s been benched for a few games because of it. It helped ease his guilt but it wasn’t enough. Nearly not enough for the damage he had caused.

He sobbed harder, clutching his chest as his breath came in heaves, "I guess they just punished me by making me captain, and letting the others walk all over me because of what I did."

Jimin gives him a soothing back rub and waits for him to catch his breath before speaking.

"That's just untrue. They didn't point the finger at anyone specifically since there was no one to blame," He says. "It was an accident. And because they recognized your abilities, they chose you to be captain."

"Even before that incident, there were discussions about electing you," Taehyung continued. It was what they’ve always told him about this, but he always seemed to never believe them. 

“The seniors all managed to get into good teams despite everything because there have been more games that showcased their talents. They admitted to us they were regretful sometimes, but it was the best they could get out of the situation.” Jimin adds.

There were a few more seconds of silence and ruminating about all that has been said before someone spoke again.

“Maybe it really was your fault.” They heard your small voice cut through the silence, and they all looked at you with wide eyes in shock. Even Jungkook felt his tears retract back to his ducts in astonishment.

“W-what?” He manages to blurt out.

You avert your eyes awkwardly. “I-I mean, knowing Jimin and Taehyung, the opposite is probably what they had always told you..” You told him in a progressively smaller voice.

“And the reason why you never believed them before is because maybe that’s not what you wanted to hear.” You add, this time not looking at anyone.

Namjoon chuckles, which surprised everyone. “I actually agree.” He says, now making him the subject of wide eyed stares. “I could elaborate, but that’s only if you want us to continue.” He asks Jungkook. He sniffs a little and wipes his cheek in a childlike manner that made everyone smile before he nodded.

“Based on what you told us, it’s highly likely that you were at fault.” Namjoon continued and Jungkook felt tears prick his eyes.

“Uhm, guys-” Taehyung tries to look around for help, thinking that this was going in a very different direction.

“But!” Namjoon cuts him off. “But, it was a variety of factors that contributed to the outcome if you think about it.” He props his thumb and pointer finger in a thinking pose.

“Right. If you blame yourself for it, then a lot of things were at fault too, aside from you. It was the car, maybe even the weather that made the streets slippery. It could even be Doyun sunbae for not reaching out to anyone about his situation, but I reckon that’s on the bottom of the list.” Minyoung says as she nods, trying to really drive the point.

“But you know, if we’re really blaming anyone here, it’d be the gang members’ fault. They intimidated and threatened you first, and you guys just tried to defend yourselves and run away.” Hoseok adds.

“Hmmm. Maybe it’d be good for you to acknowledge that you were at fault so you can heal, but just keep in mind that it’s not just you. It was a series of bad circumstances that led to that event.” Yoongi says as he fiddles with a pack of brownies in front of him.

Unbeknownst to himself, Jungkook has now ceased sobbing entirely. As he found himself paying close attention to what his colleagues were saying, a deep part of him began to relax.

“Have you spoken to any of them? The sunbaes, I mean.” Minyoung asks as she gets back to munching on sweets, trying to ease everyone into going back to being casual so as to not add to the gloomy atmosphere.

“He did with everyone except Doyun, that’s how we knew they didn’t blame anyone.” Jimin spoke for him.

“Why not? Doyun sunbae seems nice from what I’ve seen.” Minyoung replies.

“That’s exactly the reason. I never attempted since he would be too kind to hold me responsible for anything. I'm also too embarrassed to show my face after what I've done to him and the team.” Jungkook says dejectedly, his eyes drooping slightly now that all the crying had caught up to him.

“Hmmm. How do you know that’s how he’ll react? You said you never tried talking to him.” Yoongi says calmly.

“Right! You didn’t even give him a chance to blame you, either!” Hoseok says in a too cheerful voice, earning a nudge from you.

“I mean, if he blames you, that’s his decision to make, no? But you didn’t even give him that option by avoiding him.” He clarifies.

“I hate to agree, but he’s right. Maybe the best thing to do is to talk with him.” You said in a light tone.

Jungkook ruminates on everything that was said. He had more space in his head and heart to consider everything now that everything was out in the open. They were all right about this. He should go and apologize to Doyun, and what comes out of his apology is out of his hands. He’ll accept whatever happens and try finally move past this, focus on dealing with the now. 

Everyone had resumed their easy talk when he turned to gaze around the table. They do not hate him. They still don't hate him despite what he told them. Even if they had believed he was at fault, they left no trace of their judgment or intention to cut him off. He experienced tremendous relief. While you're having a chat with Minyoung, he catches your eye, which makes you double back and look at him questioningly. You offer him a small nod, and he does the same.

“Look, I still receive Doyun hyung’s emails. We can contact him to meet; he goes to college in a nearby town.” Taehyung says casually while showing his phone, with a mouthful of chocolate-covered strawberries in his mouth, earning a fond smile from Jungkook.

“Last I heard, physical therapy was going well, and that maybe they’d finally let him play in the upcoming inter-collegiate season.” Jimin adds, snatching a strawberry from Taehyung (to his annoyance) and showing it in his mouth.

“Will you guys accompany me when I decide to meet up with him?” Jungkook asks and Jimin clicks his tongue as if that were a ridiculous question.

“Of course, dumbass. We’re always here for you.” He says before leaning forward to stop the tug of war that broke out between Jin and Hobi over a piece of jelly.

Amidst all the chaos, Jungkook smiles. 

We'll all be there for you. He hears your voice say. Suddenly, he doesn't remember what he was so afraid of.

You were right.

-

taglist: @reallysparklychaos @lovebun-19 @shownusshoulders @missseoulite @potaetopic @bbsantc @moderndaychihiro @bear-hugs-and-kisses

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

[livingforcoopsandoknutzy]

weird thought but what about a fic where O'knutzy pranks the team and pretend to break up for like a week or two no pressure

yessss could you imagine wjdjsjjq

this is written more like a long headcanon sorry <3

cw: cursing, pranks

BACKGROUND:

okay so the cubs were laying in bed one night

finn and leo are watching spy kids their hands laced together between them

logan is overthinking (it's been a long day he's tired) his head is in leo's lap, finn's free hand weaving carefully through his curls

"what would happen if we broke up?"

"we wouldn't."

"but what if we did."

*silence*

"how would we tell the team?"

"who do you think would be the most upset?"

and thus the games began.

immediately knew something was wrong when the boys walked in separately

he gives logan until the end of practice to talk to him before he brings anything up

when practice is over logan comes up to him and asks if he could go home with pascal

"of course mon fils, anytime"

silent car ride

finally gets home and dumo is like alright sit we need to talk

logan is excited to see how this goes and puts on his best truly heartbroken face (it wasn't that hard to do once he imagined this was for real)

REACTIONS

it all stayed when remus asked the cubs to come have dinner with him and sirius in their gc (the one with coops and o'knutzy that is definately overactive)

no one answers except leo who simply put 'no sorry'

immediately remus and sirius are worried and remus sends a text to finn before he calls leo while sirius texts logan to see what's going on

logan answers with a simple 'i don't want to talk about it'

leo pulls out all the stops and when he picks up it sounds like he's SOBBING

(his boys were kicked out of the room for the call because they were being too loud laughing their asses off)

remus is Concerned.

there's a long phone call and honestly a sleepless night in the coops household

remus simply cannot believe it and sirius is very concerned about logan's radio silence

finn had texted with them for a little bit but refused to call or see them (he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the act)

it was tense the next day at practice the cubs were avoiding each other at all costs and everyone in the locker room had noticed

winter pulled leo to the side to talk almost immediately and remus was glad leo had people to talk to

quite honestly he was most worried about logan so was sirius

sirius stuck close to logan all practice in case he wanted to talk at any point

absolutely NO ONE missed when logan left with dumo and leo left with winter

finn sulked to his car by himself, everyone was too shocked to really say anything

there were a lot of texts that went unanswered

(but none of them were between the cubs who were finding this way too amusing)

let me make this clear: no one was taking sides

sure there were certain people comforting specific cubs (dumo & sirius were comforting logan, remus and winter took leo, and a joint effort between talker and alex had finn covered)

the SCHEMING that took place between the team to get the boys to talk to each other

because no fucking way was this the end of o'knutzy

absolutely not

they schemed and schemed but they couldn't get the boys in the same place (little did they know it was because the cubs were deciding who would go and who would make an excuse)

it was really rather amusing to watch the team scramble but eventually they had to give it up because arthur gave them a big speech about how team drama will eventually lead to the team falling apart

when he walked out after the speech all eyes went to them and logan gave a dramatic sigh

before he simply plopped himself into finn's lap who hid his face in leo's side when leo came to stand next to him

there's absolute silence as everyone figures it out

talker is the first to say anything

"that's all it fucking took? after all our plans we just needed a speech?"

winter, who was sitting next to him, slapping him gently

"you idiot, they were pranking us."

"oh. OH."

everyone starts talking at once and the cubs just sat back and laughed

they definately got them good

(this was kind of everywhere sorry <3)

[ilalos]

Mine (Hvitserk x reader)

Summary: Hvitserk buys his own slave saving you from your horrible owner.

Warnings: mentions of slavery, physical ab*se, tiny mention of sex*al ab*se if you squint (nothing actually happens, it´s just Y/n’s fear), let me know if you see anything else that might be triggering.

Word count: 1,8k

You woke up suddenly from the cold surrounding your body and making your skin wet.

"Rise and shine sl*t" sang your master placing the, now empty, bucket on the ship's floor.

You quickly stood up and waited for whatever order he may have for you, and after being given a dress you quickly changed and ran to stand beside your master who was at the front of the ship. As he spoke with his men you allowed your mind to wander to your home life, when you were happy and free.

You were born in a very rich family and had been treated like a princess until your father passed away. When your father died your mother had to get married again quickly because she had no idea how to manage the many lands your family-owned, so she got married to Maqsud and he turned out to be a terrible man; he had his own daughters so for him you were an unwanted presence and due to that he decided to sell you as a slave and told your mom you disappeared. He sold you to Canute, your current master, who beat you at the smallest mistake and always woke you up with a bucket of icy water, he said it helped to keep you clean.

"Answer!" You awoke from your thoughts when you heard your master shouting "When I talk to you, you listen! Understood?!" he grabbed your face so hard you could already feel the bruises forming.

"Yes, master" you nodded as best as you could in his strong grip, he then released you with a push so hard you fell on your back, all air knocked from your lungs.

"As I was saying" he continued as if nothing had happened "You are being offered in this town, and hopefully I can get at least what I paid for you" he spat.

You didn't know how to feel at his words, you should be happy that you were finally getting rid of your abusive master but there was also the fear of having an even worse master that could do unspeakable things to you. You stared at the horizon and watched expectantly as land got closer and closer.

When the boat arrived your master quickly tied your hands together, so tight you could feel your hands becoming cold and numb. You were pulled towards a market and as you got there you saw a line of many girls tied just like you with their master behind them offering the girls as if they were meat. Your master pulled you harshly until you stood at the end of the line and he started shouting along with the others, offering his 'pure, virgin slave!'. You tried your best not to let the situation affect you and you held back tears and bit your lip.

"How much for this one" you heard a man ask but didn't dare to look at him for more than a second, he looked young.

"30 gold pieces" Canute offered smugly, almost sure that the young man would try to lower the price to at least 20 gold pieces and that would still be a good deal.

"Deal" the man answered simply and handed him a bag with the payment inside, your master counted, and when he confirmed he was given the right amount of gold he gestured for the man to take you.

"She's yours, take her" he pushed you towards him as if you were nothing.

The young man held your shoulders before you fell on your face and when you regained balance he held your chin and tilted your head upwards, so your eyes would meet his.

"I'm Hvitserk" he smiled "And you are...?" he questioned.

"Y/n" you whispered looking into his beautiful eyes, almost getting lost in them.

"Nice to meet you" he caressed your cheek softly "You are going to warm my bed every night from now on"

Your breath got stuck in your throat when you heard his words. What your master had said wasn't a lie, you were indeed pure and untouched, and you were terrified of what Hvitserk would do with that information, or worse if he didn't believe those words and treated you as a commonly experienced slave.

Hvitserk started walking and you just stood there staring at your, now almost black, hands. He turned around and looked at you signaling for you to follow him, and just as you approached him he took out a knife making you yelp and drop on your knees begging for mercy.

"Please, master don't hurt me" you cried "I'll be good, I promise" you finished sobbing, waiting for him to hit you or stab you.

"I won't hurt you" Hvitserk assured and reached to cut the rope that was tied around your wrists, allowing the blood to flow in that particular area "I promise you, I will never hurt you on purpose" he took a hold of both hands and kissed the insides of your wrists softly.

You looked up at him in awe and quietly stood up and followed him after he got up himself and started walking towards the great hall. Once you got inside he walked to his room without looking at anyone, and once there he told you to sit in the bed.

"This is my room and where you are sitting is my bed" he explained "Your duties are simple, you wake up, get ready, wake me up, braid my hair and go to breakfast with me, you sit on my lap and feed me and you can eat in between bites too" he paused, waiting for you to show him you understood.

"Yes, master”

"You will go with me everywhere and you will not look at or talk to anyone but me, every meal I have you will feed it to me and I will always allow you to eat from my plate" he insisted watching you nod to his words "every night I expect you to lay with me, for the first couple of nights I don't intend on using your body for my pleasure, instead I wish to use you mainly for the company" you let out a breath you had been holding since he told you you had to warm his bed "You are mine and only mine, not even the queen can take you away from me, and I hope I am clear when I tell you that you cannot even glance at another man's direction, am I clear?"

"Yes master, I'm completely yours from now on"

"Call me Hvitserk, master creeps me out" he fake shivered to amuse you and got a small giggle which made him smile.

That night you sat on Hvitserk's lap, just like he had ordered, feeding him every course from soup to ale and he allowed you to eat from his plate in between bites, just like he promised. His brothers tried to ignore your presence and act as if you were just another slave, but you weren't. Normally the one who bought slaves was their mother, Hvitserk was the first one to buy a slave for himself, and they were all attracted to your odd presence.

"Who is the beauty sitting in your lap, Hvitserk?" inquired Ivar.

"She is my slave, brother" Hvitserk stated simply.

"And who said you could have your own slave?" demanded Sigurd with a frown.

"I bought her with my own money, earned by fishing and hunting" he stated proudly squeezing your waist a little and taking the piece of meat you offered.

"And are you planning to share her anytime soon?" asked Ubbe curious lifting a brow and hiding his smirk behind his cup, clearly noticing the way you tensed.

"No" Hvitserk deadpanned "she is mine" he finished feeling you relax on his lap and continue cutting some meat for him.

After that the table got silent and everyone finished their meals in silence, no brother dared to look at Hvitserk and much less at you. After everyone finished each one went to their respective rooms without anything more than a 'goodbye' to their mother and Hvitserk waited until they left before getting up and leading you to his room. Once in his room, Hvitserk started taking his clothes off and as he sat on the bed he heard water being poured into his bathtub.

"What are you doing?" he asked turning to look at you emptying a pot of warm water into the tub.

"I'm preparing your bath, mast-Hvitserk" you quickly corrected yourself, fearing his reaction at the dreaded word "You can relax and get cleaned while I undo your braids" you suggested with a hopeful look, you truly appreciated being treated well and wanted to show him how grateful you were for his lack of mistreatings.

He nodded from his spot and watched you as you continued pouring pots of warm water into his tub until it was almost full. You announced the bath was ready and stood with your back turned to him as a sign of respect while he finished undressing. After that he got in the bath, hissing as he felt the warm water colliding with his cold skin.

"Is it too hot?" You asked concerned.

"It is perfect" he mumbled sleepily.

You smiled a little as you watched him resting his head on the edge of the tub with his eyes closed. Quietly, you walked around the tub until you stood by the back of his head where you started unbraiding his hair with soft brushes of your fingers, hearing him sigh and moan every now and then.

"After this bath, we are going to sleep" he announced in a low voice "Your gown is over there" without opening his eyes he pointed towards the bed where you could see some white fabric folded next to the pillow.

When you were both changed and ready to bed he laid down and patted the spot next to him, you laid on your back not knowing how he wanted you to position yourself. You heard him chuckle before and yelped when you felt his arms wrapping around your shoulders and with a quick pull he had your head laying on his chest.

"You are here to comfort me, not lay there as stiff as a tree" his chest vibrated with his laugh.

"Sorry" you mumbled, sleep evident in your voice.

You both remained silent and in a matter of minutes, he felt your soft breaths caressing his skin. He knew you were there just because he had bought you, but for a sweet tiny moment, he convinced himself that the girl in his arms was not a slave, but his lover who was there out of adoration for him and only him. His own beautiful lover.

"Mine" he whispered kissing your forehead before finally slipping into a peaceful slumber.

-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘

Hi! Thanks for reading!!!! I hope you enjoyed it and I’m thinking about making a part two so…let me know if you’d be interested on that.

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello, fic request coming through if you are still doing them! Okay, Carlos has not been feeling well so he stays in and doesn't go to his shift. TK still has his shift, so he wants to stay with Carlos to keep an eye on him but Carlos says he is fine. TK is uneasy at work just wants to go back home, he calls Carlos but he is not answering. Tommy says TK can go check up on Carlos, while he is at home, he finds Carlos in bed and when he goes closer, Carlos is not breathing. Paramedic!TK coming through. Super angst ensues but Carlos makes it in the end after some time in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 25: heaving through corrupted lungs

thank you for the prompt!

thanks also to @noxsoulmate for the beta! 💚

ao3 | 2.9k | major character illness, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, brief references to past, canonical character death

“Strand, I know we’re not on a call right now, but you could at least pretend to be focused.”

TK flushes as Tommy’s somewhat less-than amused voice reaches him from the back of the ambulance. He hurriedly locks his phone and shoves it in the glove compartment, though not before checking every messaging app he has for word from Carlos.

There’s none, of course, just like it’s been all day. Logically, he knows Carlos is probably sleeping—god knows he needs it—but that isn’t going to stop him from worrying, or from sending check-up texts every ten minutes. It does, however, stop Carlos from answering, which isn’t very conducive to TK’s ability to concentrate on work today.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says. “It’s just—”

“Carlos is sick and you’re being paranoid, as usual,” Nancy chimes in, audibly rolling her eyes from the driver’s seat. “Look, dude, if he said he’s fine, then he’s probably fine.”

“Well, I’m the paramedic in the relationship, and I say he’s not fine.” TK sighs and forces himself to resist the urge to pull out his phone again. “Carlos likes to lecture me about hiding injuries, but he’s exactly the same when he’s ill; he could be on death’s door and still saying he’s okay. But he hasn’t said anything today, so I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried about him.”

“Welcome to relationships,” Tommy comments. “Seriously though, TK, are you going to be okay to finish this shift? There’s still ten hours to go and we cannot afford for you to be distracted out there.”

TK doesn’t answer right away; on one hand, he’s itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

He’s staring out the window, considering his options, when he realises that he knows these streets. Like, actually knows them. They’re right around the corner from his and Carlos’s home, and an idea strikes TK like a lightning bolt.

“Hey, Cap?” he asks, twisting around in his seat to look at her. “How about we take a lunch break now instead of driving all the way back to the station? There’s a great place nearby, and it’s less likely that we’ll be interrupted by a call before we get food.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously, clearly not buying his innocent act. “What are you talking about, TK?”

“Mine and Carlos’s place is literally two streets away; we could drop by and I could check in on him and make sure he’s okay. Plus,” he continues, already spotting the argument on Tommy’s face, “I’m not lying about the food. Carlos cooks in bulk, so we’ve got loads of leftover casserole in the freezer.”

Tommy pauses, indecision clear in her expression. She narrows her eyes at TK, scrutinising him. “Will this mean you’ll stop being so distracted?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright.” She sighs and nods, and Nancy switches directions to head towards their home. “I’m holding you to that, Strand.”

TK spends the entire drive, short as it is, drumming his fingers on his knees and trying to keep the ever-growing panic at bay. Carlos is going to be fine.

He has to be.

He jumps out the ambulance before Nancy’s even fully stopped it, cursing himself as he fumbles with his keys. Tommy pats his shoulder soothingly; it doesn’t really calm him down, but TK appreciates the effort and her unconditional support. When he gets inside, he simply waves a hand in the general direction of the freezer, hoping Tommy and Nancy get the message, and barrels upstairs, Carlos’s name bursting from his lips.

“Carlos, babe, you here?” It’s a stupid question; TK had seen the Camaro in the driveway and Carlos is far too ill to want to walk anywhere—or so TK hopes—so he has to be home. But the silence draws out, and TK’s heart is pounding a mile a minute by the time he reaches the door to their bedroom.

“Carlos?” He pushes open the door, sighing in relief when he sees his fiancé sprawled across the bed, dead to the world. It’s a little weird that he hasn’t woken up yet given how loud TK was shouting, but it’s probably just because his body needs the rest. TK would bet that the apocalypse could happen outside the window and Carlos wouldn’t so much as stir.

He tip-toes towards the bed, a soft smile spreading across his lips as anxiety gives way to fondness and love. It’s not until he’s within touching distance of Carlos that he registers just how still he is; just how silent the room is.

This morning, Carlos’s breathing was loud and harsh, punctuated with periodic sniffs and coughs.

Now, he’s not making a sound.

And, as TK drops to his knees and bends over his fiancé’s body, he realises that his chest isn’t moving.

Carlos isn’t breathing.

The panic is back in full force as TK frantically presses his fingers to Carlos’s pulse point, praying for something—a flutter, anything—to indicate that Carlos isn’t… That he’s not…

There’s nothing.

Instinct takes over, TK linking his hands on Carlos’s chest and starting compressions even as his vision blurs with tears and he chokes on the sobs building in his throat.

“Cap!” he yells, not taking his eyes off Carlos. “Cap, up here!”

A minute later, Tommy and Nancy burst into the room, both halting in shock for a moment before jumping into action. Nancy moves to the other side of the bed, already pulling out the ambu bag, while Tommy comes to stand by TK.

“What do we have?” she asks, professional as ever, though there’s a clear worried undertone to her voice.

“No pulse, no respiration,” he manages, voice thick. “Skin is warm to the touch. No clear cause, but patient was congested and moderately feverish during the past few days.”

Tommy nods and gently pushes at TK’s shoulder. “Alright, you did good, TK, but you should let us take over now,” she says gently. “Come on, Nancy and I can handle this.”

TK ignores her, continuing compressions with renewed force. “I have to help him, Cap. I have to.”

“And you have, but now—”

“No!” Later, TK will be ashamed of the way he lost control like that, and he’ll have to apologise to Tommy, but the only thing he can really, truly focus on now is Carlos. He keeps pushing, feeling Carlos’s ribs give under his hands, and forces himself to keep going even though his stomach turns at the idea of causing him any pain. “Come on, baby,” he mutters. “Come on, Carlos, please.”

Time is running out; TK can tell by the way the silence is starting to feel heavier and heavier, by the looks he knows Tommy and Nancy must be exchanging over his head. Carlos’s time is running out, and TK is staring down a future he doesn’t know he can survive, and—

“I have a pulse!” Nancy shouts, and the words don’t register in TK’s head until Tommy’s hands are forcibly pulling him back and Carlos’s chest is moving and his eyelids start to flutter.

Tommy slides into the space left by TK, practiced hands checking Carlos’s vitals. “Carlos, can you hear me?”

She gets no response save for a weak groan, then Carlos’s body goes slack again and his head lolls limply on the pillow. TK takes a panicked step forward, but he’s just as quickly pushed back as Tommy secures an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face.

“Nancy, get the backboard and the gurney ready. Heart rate is arrhythmic and respiration is laboured; radio Austin Memorial and get their cardiac unit on standby.”

Nancy dashes out of the bedroom, and Tommy grabs her own radio. “Dispatch, this is RA 126 responding to a cardiac event at 2204 Allred Drive. Patient is unconscious and breathing, however at the time of arrival, he was in cardiac arrest. Duration unknown.”

“Copy that, RA 126.”

Nancy arrives with the backboard, and TK feels like an invisible observer as he watches his two teammates work. He’s stuck, barely breathing, as he watches Carlos struggle and fight for his life; he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he dies, here and now.

TK moves as if in a nightmare as they get Carlos down the stairs and into the ambulance, eyes constantly locked on his fiancé. He thinks Tommy might say something to him, but he doesn’t hear it and he doesn’t bother to ask—terrible as it is to admit, he doesn’t care right now. He can’t care; there’s no more room inside him for anything else but Carlos.

He wraps a hand around Carlos’s wrist, two fingers resting on his pulse point, and prays that he’ll never have to feel that absence again.

*

Tommy sits beside him in the waiting room, a silent show of support while they wait for news on Carlos. Or until they catch another call; whichever comes first. Nancy is…somewhere. TK thinks she might have gone to grab some coffee or a snack, but he honestly has no idea. He’s kind of lost track of things, the hospital’s plain white walls turning time into water as they wait, and wait, and wait.

“I know how you feel, you know,” Tommy says, unprompted. “The night that Charles died, I… I spent so long blaming myself. I wasn’t there, you know? And I just kept thinking that if I had been there, if I hadn’t stayed out at Grace and Judd’s, then I might have been able to do something to save him.” She levels him with a firm, yet motherly look, and TK drops his gaze to the floor. “I know now that there was nothing. It kills me to admit it, but what happened would have happened either way, and it’s the same here. Carlos is young, healthy—there was no reason to suspect anything might happen. Certainly nothing like this. You did everything that you could, TK, and you have to hold onto that, no matter what the outcome.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, giving up on keeping the tears at bay. Tommy reaches out to wrap one arm around him, but he jerks away, curling in on himself. “It’s not the same,” he whispers, voice thick. “It’s not— I knew, Cap. I knew he was ill and I still left him.”

“You said you guys thought it was just a bad cold.”

“No, I knew. I’m a paramedic, how could I have missed this?”

“These things happen, TK,” she says softly. “It’s cruel, and it’s senseless, and, more than anything, it’s unavoidable. We can go in circles blaming ourselves for it—and I know it’s worse for us; we think we should be able to see everything because it’s our job, right?

“The thing is, we’re the most blind when it comes to the people we love. We think we see everything and we always worry over them, but ultimately we just want to believe that everything’s going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay. It’s hard to accept when they’re not.”

“I should have done more.”

“You did all you cou—”

“No, I didn’t.” He lets out a sob, twisting away from Tommy’s touch once more when she tries to comfort him. “I should have insisted on staying home; I should have thought about going to check on him earlier. We have no idea how long he was lying there, dead—he was dead, Tommy—before we arrived, but if I had been there then I could have gotten him help.”

TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up at his captain, meeting her eyes for the first time since they were in the ambulance. “Tommy, if he dies, then I swear I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

Tommy looks like she wants to say more, but just as she opens her mouth, her radio crackles to life. She sighs regretfully but stands, clasping TK’s shoulder gently.

“He’ll be okay, TK. Believe in that.”

*

Looking at Carlos, TK has never believed in anything less. He’s so still and pale on the bed and TK keeps having to check that his chest is still moving, despite the steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant thrum against his fingertips. He hasn’t let go of Carlos’s wrist since he was allowed into the room, and he doesn’t intend to let go until Carlos is back with him, awake and alive and okay.

He’s trying to believe in that outcome as a certainty, but he knows better than that. Carlos might be young and healthy, but the fact still remains that his heart stopped—coming back from that is far from guaranteed.

It’s been three days since the incident, and Carlos’s parents have been in and out, always bringing TK food and trying to engage him in conversation. He tries, for them, but it’s not easy and the attempts always fizzle out before long; TK just doesn’t have it in him anymore to talk and pretend to be positive. Any hope he ever had has abandoned him, the only thing keeping him afloat his grip around Carlos’s wrist.

A tupperware container drops into his lap, and TK looks up to see Andrea standing over him. She reaches across to caress Carlos’s cheek, then sinks into the chair beside TK, giving him a pointed look.

He sighs, attempting a weak smile for her. “I appreciate it, Andrea, but—”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head firmly. “No more buts; I won’t hear them. My son might not be able to make sure you take care of yourself, but I am more than capable of taking over for him. I am very strict about food, ask any of his sisters.” Her stern look softens and she pats his arm gently. “Venga, mijo. You’ll feel better for it.”

TK looks down at the dish in his lap, doing his best to keep a grimace off his face. It looks and smells delicious, like all of Andrea’s cooking, but the sight of it makes his stomach turn, his gag reflex activating at the very thought of putting any in his mouth.

“Andrea, I…” He shakes his head and picks the container up with his free hand, handing it back to her. “I can’t.”

And it’s not just that TK can’t handle any food at the moment, though that certainly plays into it.

But they’re tamales.

The Reyes family recipe tamales, passed down through generations, which Carlos has been slowly attempting to teach TK. Which Carlos always makes on special occasions, and sometimes just for the hell of it.

Which Carlos made the night he proposed.

Andrea looks set to argue, but TK forces an end to the conversation by making her take the container and turning back to Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, knowing he’s disappointed her. “It’s just hard.”

She sighs and rubs his back. “I know. Just don’t come to me when Carlos wakes up and realises you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

That almost gets a laugh out of him, and TK looks over to smile at Andrea. It’s a brittle thing, but it’s a smile all the same, which is more than he’s managed in three days. She smiles back at him, and it helps him feel not so alone in all this.

A weak groan is all the warning he gets before, “Are you turning down my mother’s cooking?” reaches his ears, and TK gasps, whipping around to stare at the bed.

Right into Carlos’s eyes.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, baby.” Carlos’s voice is rough and rasping, his eyes fluttering closed again a second later, though TK can tell that he’s still awake. He reaches to the table and pours a cup of water, encouraging Carlos to lift his head and drink through the straw.

“Slow sips, that’s it,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently along Carlos’s wrist, still holding on tightly.

Once Carlos has drunk his fill, he opens his eyes again and looks up at TK, gaze searching his face. “I love you,” he rasps, smiling gently, “but did you really just say no to my mom’s tamales?”

TK splutters, but he can’t keep the smile off his own face, shaking his head fondly at Carlos. “I love you too, idiot,” he says. “And tamales don’t taste the same without you there to eat them with me.”

“Good thing I’m here now, then.”

TK hums. “Guess it is.”

(Later, after the nurses and doctors have come and gone, TK will pick up the tub of tamales, left behind by Andrea when she went to tell everyone the good news.

He and Carlos will split one, pressed close together in the bed to avoid getting crumbs on the sheets. Carlos will be smiling at him the entire time, and TK will kiss him over and over, relishing the sensation of Carlos kissing him back.

And it’ll be the best damn tamale TK has ever eaten.)

[esmealux]

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

[theyarebothgunshot]

I’d be very interested in your thoughts on the JIB8 cockles panel. just a suggestion for your rewatch 👀

i’ve seen the jib8 panel so many times, because it’s honestly one of the wildest things i have ever seen and i just never get tired of it. 

first of all i want to give you my take on the overall vibe, and then second of all i will get into the details and link to certain timestamps in the video. 

disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

fun fact: i was today years old when i found out that the airbnb story took place one day before this panel. what a sexually charged weekend that was for them dude (gn).

the vibe that i get from this panel is that their moods were off before they got on stage, and where misha kind of looks tired and not 100% enthusiastic about things, jensen apparently decided to get drunk and is trying to make it look like he is thriving. yet, a little while into the panel we learn that it has been an emotional rollercoaster of a day for him, which might have something to do with the overall mood. then again, it could be that something else happened in between the autographs and that panel, who is to say?

i have talked about the d/s subtones in their interactions before and this panel makes my radar ping like nobody’s business. if my interpretation of their dynamics is right, then one could assume that jensen was being very bratty on purpose, trying to stir up a reaction in misha, and i think he probably got what he wanted (more or less. maybe he thought misha would find it more amusing than he did, or but honestly, at that point they have already known each other for nearly 10 years so odds are he knew what he was doing and how misha would react to it. it would surprise me greatly if these two didn’t work out their mutual frustrations with the day and each other after this panel ended- in the bedroom.)

i genuinely think i have never seen jensen flirt more openly and aggressively with misha, ever, and i have never seen misha in the state he was in during this panel either: tired, a little annoyed about the fact that jensen was going off the deep end and that he was not able to stop him, to the point where he just gives up and says things like ‘when in rome’ etc. let’s get into it. 

the mood is set from the very first second: misha is kinda subdued, and jensen is being a bit of a clown, coaxing misha to join him in the madness, which he does to a certain extent. 

we are off to a great start with not just one [0m15s], but two [0m20s] moments in which i just know in my bones they wanted to hold hands. how do i know? because i have been there my fucking self. wanting to hold hands with your crush when you are drunk and acting silly is a love language okay.

as soon as they sit down, misha tries to make conversation and jensen just starts pushing him and pushing him, [1m11s] saying ‘shut up’ and ‘yeah it’s really stupid and it embarrasses me’, but misha tries to ignore it at first and just marches on through. which is probably why i never see people talk about that little comment. it embarrasses jensen when misha sits like that? why would he need to feel embarrassed by his friend’s actions? kinda weird tbh, sounds like husband behavior to me. i have a feeling that when misha said ‘by which he means it’s an innie’, jensen REALLY had to bite on his tongue not to go all ‘you weren’t complaining this morning’ or something like that. look at his face bro [1m55s]. 

and then jensen opens up his legs like the little tramp (affectionate) that he is and when misha tries to stop him he just TURNS to misha with said open legs like a mad man and goes ‘here’s the thing. pick a leg.’ [2m05s] LIKE? who DOES THAT? that is insane people behavior!!! admittedly i am a cis woman and i don’t have conversations with male friends about their bodily anatomy all that often, but i legit cannot phatom that this is a normal thing to talk about with your platonic buddy. pick a leg for me to rest my dick on, old buddy old pal. NOBODY DOES THAT. it’s not even something that i would consider flirting because even though i am into men, i would not find that arousing? so it’s either an action to provoke annoyance in misha or it’s something they have discussed before or both. because misha immediately understands what he means, starts shaking his head in frustration, and actually turns to jensen as if to say ‘are you fucking kidding me right now? really? you are really doing this?’ followed by a ‘this is making me feel so uncomfortable’ aka one of the phrases they both like to use even though they never mean it. 

then when jensen actually goes up to do his ridiculous mating dance and sits back down again, he automatically sits down with his body turned towards misha. 

quick side note: if anybody understands what the joke was about when they talked about ‘cas has big dolls’ i would love to hear it, because that has never made any sense to me, but it’s probably a me problem lmao. 

when misha goes ‘could you watch your language please’ i think that’s a sign that he is genuinely getting a bit frustrated [4m53s] with jensen even though he is obviously playing it off as a joke. right after he says that, jensen puts his fingers against his mouth, as if to shut himself up. i know that a lot of people don’t wanna read too much into body language but hey, i am writing an analysis here so work with me for a sec: i think that could be a subconscious decision to listen to what misha is telling him to do, which ties into the d/s dynamics i’ve mentioned earlier. 

i know people always go crazy when misha goes ‘what did i tell him’ [5m19s] and jensen whispers in his ear. i personally think misha probably told him about the fact that they booked kansas the band, but it’s still pretty telling that that is how misha would react to the question if something he told him is public knowledge. evidently that goes to show that there is enough that misha tells jensen that cannot be shared with the public, which i thought is interesting. 

now that i am watching it again, the ‘j*red would have just said it’ comment kind of stumbles around in my brain asking me to dissect it. let’s just say that i wouldn’t be surprised if they were both thinking back on the many, many times that j*red put his foot in his mouth and made a suggestive comment about jensen and misha’s relationship. 

god i just cringed [6m14s] watching jensen interact with that first girl who asked a question and he just goes off on her about how twins are cool and misha is shaking his head lord oh lord and that is the minute daniella decides that hey maybe they need even more alcohol lmfaoooo it’s a lot. poor misha i genuinely feel bad for him.

and then he goes ‘real men have twins’ and looks at misha and misha is still not having it so he goes ‘it’s just a shirt’ like girl (gn) pleASE that’s husband behavior, yet again, why else would he feel the need to clarify it. ‘look babe don’t be mad or jealous i don’t mean anything by it, it’s just a shirt’ i hate him. 

i just know misha would have wanted to take the apple juice away from jensen lmao. 

one of the moments [9m35s] that always stands out to me is when they go ‘that’s why we don’t bring steven’ ‘that’s right, that’s why he’s not allowed’ idk how to explain it but the way that just flows out of them so naturally feels very coupley for some reason.

i think we can all agree that jensen’s reaction [12m22s] to misha’s ‘i always wear orange underwear’ story is completely fake, right? because there is no way he didn’t know that, and his reaction was very exaggerated. plus, the little gesture to make misha show his underwear? bitch, please. whipped. there was also exactly zero reason for him to come that close to misha in order to inspect the color of his underwear.

the one thing that i wonder about, though, is why misha didn’t know jensen was wearing the famous underbear briefs? but as i am writing this i realise that even if they slept in the same hotel room, there are obviously a few different possible reasons why misha didn’t know what underwear jensen was wearing that day: either jensen showered and changed in the bathroom, so by the time he faced misha again he was fully dressed, or misha had to leave their hotel room earlier than jensen, or jensen changed while misha showered, etc etc. 

in any case……. jensen dropping trou in the middle of this fucking panel? absolutely batshit insane, 10/10 thank you for your service nesnej. 

this [13m54s] is where shit really starts to hit the fan. jensen is OUT OF CONTROL. the long stares??? the ‘rawr’s??? ‘you didn’t even get the full picture’??? (sidenote i would love to know what misha whispered to him right after).

OKAY so. when the girl mentions j*red and jensen goes all Knowing What’s Up and says ‘oh he has had a rough time today. misha kept us up way too late last night. *glances at misha* rrrrrrr’ listen. the only reason i am not reading too much into this is because i do not believe they had a threesome with j*red but also the way he said it was very sus and my mind can’t help but wonder if they were disgustingly flirty and way too touchy feely in front of j*red whilst drunk and honestly that’s probably the case.

of course this is followed [15m15s] by the insane man saying ‘by the way they go down to here’??? and the potentially whispered ‘i’ll show you later’?????? sir i have a lot of questions. number one: how dare you? 

bless this next person for this question, because she starts her sentence with: ‘people who have been together for a long time…’ i actually already made a post about this once so i implore you all to read that because i still stand by what i said in there.

it is of course followed by them both not being able to think about ANYTHING appropriate to say to the question if there is anything they only do in front of each other that doesn’t involve pants. and then misha goes ‘why don’t i just share a private moment that we had’ and jensen’s first instinct is to say ‘shit’. i mean. i am merely perceiving. 

this is the moment we realise that it has been quite The Day for them, but especially for jensen, because he has been emotional earlier in the day. which, again, could explain his demeanor during the panel. trying to distract himself. notice that he gets up and shakes his legs again and goes for a drink the second misha starts to tell the story: coping mechanisms aka distraction, just like he did at the start of the panel. 

the moment where he goes ‘it’s hitting me now. shit.’ really solidifies this theory for me, that he has been acting like a goofy drunken guy all panel, in order to drown out the emotions he felt that afternoon, but alas. once he started to talk about it, it still all came back to him. 

i will say this though: it kind of warms my heart that he was so touched by the fact that the fandom spawned something good. makes me feel slightly less dumb for forming parasocial relationships with that man. only slightly, but still. 

misha going ‘god he’s so grouchy’ [25m32s]? say it with me, folks: husband behavior. once again misha tries to talk jensen down and jensen listens (sort of). say it with me, folks: d/s behavior. and RIGHT after that jensen walks towards misha with this intense fucking stare in his eyes that makes me feel like i am intruding, and then after he gets another drink (nesnej, why?) he just. gently massages misha’s neck and shoulder before draping his arm around him? and his hand lingers when he goes to grab the keychain? okay. 

insert the famous ‘when in rome’ debacle lmao misha was so done with jensen by then it’s so hilarious. the funny thing is that misha says ‘what i mean is show each other our underwear, nothing weird. you can’t look at me like that, because of what you did’, while the question was ‘what would dean and cas do in rome’ and not ‘what would jensen and misha do in rome’ but clearly, once again, the actors cannot make a distinction between the two. interesting :) it also wouldn’t surprise me if jensen has told him to tone down the dean/cas answers but now that jensen decided to fully flash him on stage misha is like ‘sorry but i am not playing by your rules after what you did’ lmao. of course, jensen’s reaction is to go back to parting his legs for misha, like he is challenging him. i mean. you can’t make this shit up. 

am i the only one who thinks that jensen might be thinking dirty thoughts when misha repeats ‘what would dean and cas do’ [27m50s]? because like. that’s quite a face he is making.

when he says ‘i don’t know how to answer that’ and misha agrees, idk, for some reason i get the feeling that that’s in the sense of ‘i don’t know how to answer that in a way that won’t get our fans’s hopes up because we know what they would want and we know what we would answer but we can’t go there’. 

i really feel like the final straw for daniella was the way that jensen reacted to that last question like he was gonna have another breakdown lmao and that’s why the rest of the cast and crew were pushed onto the stage prematurely. because when you think about it, it’s a pretty rude thing to do when somebody is still answering a question? but okay. 

listen - the last 6 minutes of this panel are so chaotic sdjfhsjh the only thing i can conclude from it is that jensen is hella drunk but we’ve been knew. his mood changes by the fucking second. i love him and his little dance and how he sits down on the stage. i feel like i might be jensen coded when i am drunk. i too get slutty and unpredictable. 

so anyways long story short: jensen was hella drunk and wanted to provoke misha, it worked, they had hot sweaty sex after this panel, and the fact that jensen got drunk enough to entrust misha with taking care of shit during the panel makes me very emotional for some reason, and i just love them a lot. thank you for coming to my ted talk. 

[honeypirate]

Take the Step

Tendou x Fem!Reader

unedited 

Tendou ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes fixed on you. You were laughing at something thing your friends had said, the sound reaching his ears had made him stop in the middle of his sentence to look, his eyes scanning the cafeteria until they landed on you, smiling and saying something back to your friend, your head shaking a little as the sunlight from the window behind you casting a glow over you. Properly angelic he thought. 

He adored you. Your beautiful hair and eyes, the way you looked at him like you knew everything in his soul. Every time he was blessed to be in the same friend group as you he felt like the luckiest man on the earth to just be around you. Sure you have talked before at parties or dances, occasionally chatting when you were by each other and really connecting, but he couldn't seem to take the next step. 

He gasps when your eyes flick up, immediately making eye contact with him. Your initial worry, when you feel someone’s eyes intensely on you, washes away when you realize it’s him. Your mouth changes to form an amused grin before softening into a sweet smile as you raise your hand, waving at him with your fingers. 

He feels his face flush and he chuckles under his breath before raising his fingers and waving back. You give him a sweet closed eyes smile before your friend is grabbing your arm and getting your attention. 

The sounds of the cafeteria and his friends around him finds his ears again, the moment with you broken and over with, but the trace of your warmth still evident in his heart. 

“Tendou” Ushijima’s voice floats into his brain and he sighs, turning his head to look at his friend he grins goofily “what’s up?” Ushi raises an eyebrow “you stopped in the middle of your sentence again” Tendou runs his fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to look at you again he laughs awkwardly “really? Sorry Ushi, what was I saying?” He doesn’t know, he can’t remember what he was even saying before he hears your laugh. 

“What was that? The third time today? I think he likes you” your friend whispers into your ear making you chuckle “oh hush. He’s just being nice” your cheeks gave you away though, you really hope he does like you. 

on the walk home with your friends something stops you, you have to find Tendou, you have to do something to find out if he likes you or not. so you decided to just simply ask him. “oh shoot  I forgot my jacket” you turn back towards the school “I’ll just see you guys tomorrow! Be safe!” You don’t even catch their goodbyes, your mind on one thing alone. “She didnt have a jacket” one of them points out as you rush away.

“Hey Ushijima” you say and bow slightly, their practice was over but Tendou was nowhere in sight “hello y/n do you need something?” He smiles softly and it makes you a little relieved, you haven’t talked directly to him before but you have almost the same friend group so you know how kind he is, that doesnt stop you from being a little bit intimidated. “Yes I wondering, do you know where I can find Tendou?” 

“She’s looking for me?” He gasps, a grin slowly taking over his face “she’s waiting in the gym” Tendou goes to run out the door but Ushijima stops him “maybe get dressed first” Tendou looks down at himself, shirt thrown on his still wet body and a towel around his waist from his shower and he flushes “you’re right” he shoots him a finger gun and turns back, rushing to dress to go talk to you. 

He's stumbling as he runs out the locker room door, hopping as he pulls on his last shoe. You chuckle and his eyes find you, a blush covering his cheeks as he pops up and tries to play it cool as he walks over to you “you uh, you wanted to talk to me?” He laughs awkwardly and you smile “I did. I wanted to talk about how many times I caught you looking at me today” you reach out, unbuttoning the three wrongly placed buttons on his shirt, straightening his shirt and then buttoning it correctly for him as he stumbles over his words. “Do you want to go out with me?” He asks, his hand coming behind his head as his eyebrows furrow. You chuckle softly, making goose bumps rise on his neck “yes. I’d love to. Do you wanna walk me home?” You lean closer and your eyes twinkle, man this boy would do anything for you. He nods excitedly and tugs on his backpack straps, his cheeks flushed pink. 

You sigh softly, happily as you look up into his eyes, you reach out, slipping your hand into his softly and giving it a light squeeze as you begin to walk out of the school, him following you with a dopy love struck smile on his lips. 

“You like me?” He whispers, finally finding his voice when you reach the train station you chuckle and drop his hand, deciding to turn and wrap your arms lose around his middle, placing your chin against his chest smiling up at him. “yes” his breath hitches and you reach up, brushing his cheek softly you feel him shudder as he leans into your hand, his eyes fluttering closed.  

“You like me?” You ask and he nods gently before his eyes open, a smile on his lips. He reaches up and cups both of your cheeks “Very much” he whispers and you beam up at him, making his heart race. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours “I think you’re beautiful” you whisper and he gasps. “Beautiful?” He questions and pulls back, the sound of the train coming in the distance. “Yes” you say with a nod, your hands cupping his cheeks and running your thumbs over his eyebrows, you lean up, kissing beneath both of his eyes gently. When you meet his eyes again his cheeks are flushed and his eyes full of many emotions you cannot read. The train wooshed in beside you, blowing your hair behind you and the sound loud in your ears along with your quick beating heart. He watched your lips as the sound of your words is drowned out from the screech of the stopping train “beautiful” you mouthed and he smiled, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as the train stops completely, the sound of the doors opening making you turn from him grabbing his hand and pulling him with you into the train. 

His hand kept a comfortable hold on yours as you walked to your house together, he always had something to talk about and you loved it, it made you feel comfortable to not have to worry about feeling awkward. “I actually live near here” he says “just a few streets away” you smile up at him “so that means we could hang out all the time if you want” you chuckle at the blush that dusts his cheeks, making him look angelic in the golden hour. “You can’t get away from me that easily. You’re stuck with me now” he laughs, trying to hide that he was slightly afraid you’d tell him this was all a joke. You stop and grab his other hand at the bottom of your drive, smiling up at him, “and you’re stuck with me” you say with a smirk and he gives you a goofy smile “so you want to go out tomorrow night?” He asks, his hands a little clammy and nervous even though you were the one who approached him first. “Yes. I was thinking after school and practice we could skate around and get some dinner or maybe see a movie. Late night picnic under the stars at the park maybe. I don’t care” you shrug “I just wanna spend time with you” you smile sweetly up at him and he sighs, a soft sound of peace and luck finding it’s way to his heart, oh how he knows he’s going to love you, it’s inevitable. He reaches up, his hands still and confident, no longer clammy as he cups you cheeks, smooshing them a little as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours as a small whimper leaves his throat. 

Your mother is at the window of your door, aggressively flashing the outside light at you as she watches with a frown. You pull away and laugh before the look in his eyes makes you go silent. You brush his messy hair off his forehead and sigh softly “you’re so beautiful,” you hand travels down to rest over his heart “inside and out” you finish and he kisses you again before hugging you tight “thank you” he whispers, his voice cracking softly, the sound of tears in his throat. you’ve said that more times tonight than he has ever heard before, he couldn’t quite understand how you saw him like that, but he felt so soft every time. 

He pulls back and wipes his eyes and nose, sniffing and trying to play it off. You give him a gentle look and he laughs “I’m okay. I promise.” he kisses the top of your head as your mom sticks her head out the door and yells at you to come inside. You smile softly and stand on your tippy toes “kiss me again before my mom comes out here with the broom” he laughs and then kisses your lips four times in rapid succession, causing you to giggle before cupping his cheek and pulling him down, kissing him soft and slow, conveying how pleased and happy you are to be in this moment with him.

 The moment you close your bedroom door your phone is ringing, making your stomach fill with butterflies as you laughed “can’t get enough of me huh?” his beautiful laughter fills your ears and you smile as you shed your backpack and set down your shoes “That would be impossible. I just wanted to talk to you more, I wasn’t ready to stop” you laugh and sit down on the end your bed “I wasn't either” you whisper, his giddy laugh coming through the phone before he launches into one of his conspiracy theories about the lunch ladies being mass murders, making you laugh at his absurdity and ultimately fall more for the quirky redhead. 

[liliesoftherain]

My Everlasting Alstroemeria

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader; Midoriya Izuku x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst? 

Summary: Part 2 of Alstroemeria

A/N: Hi y’all, here's part 2!! Bakugou’s Pov. Let me know if you want a Deku pov????

-----

“Say hello dear; this is Lady (l/n) and her lovely daughter, Miss (y/n) (l/n).”

Katsuki stands there as The Lady bows gracefully with her daughter following suit, so he straightens and greets them as he’s been taught to. 

The Lady smiles, turning to his mother, and converses about something he has already tuned out. He stares at you, all properly cleaned and groomed--he wants to roll his eyes. He hasn’t encountered many girls his age before, but he knows they were all too, too girly.

“Katsuki, why don’t you show Miss (l/n) around the gardens outside? I am sure she will appreciate the sights,” His mother gently shoves him closer to where you stood, grinning triumphantly and looking at your mother with a wink. “Now, friend, we have an entire tray of biscuits calling our name--shall we?” 

The adults walk off to the parlor, and Katsuki knows they’ll have a perfect view of the gardens from there. Just great, he has to continue to pretend to be nice. 

He saunters away, yet doesn’t make it more than three steps as he realizes you still haven’t moved. How bothersome. 

“Are you coming, or not?”

“Oh, um, of course!”

Katsuki actually rolls his eyes this time, all while struggling to keep his hands from entering his pockets--he can still feel the welts of his mother’s fan as she reminded him of how improper he acted. You keep quiet, and he supposes it’s better than you talking his ear off like the other boys from his school. 

The garden was nothing new to him, the same flowers and exotic plants, perfectly trimmed and on display. The marble fountain in the center of it all was always a fan favorite--even if he could care less about the structure. 

Despite his feelings, he noticed that your wide eyes have settled upon it so he brings you close enough to view the detailed carvings along the sides. 

“It’s beautiful!”

“I suppose.”

He huffs, sitting on the ledge as you continue to admire it. The longer you stare, the more aggravated he grows, and he can’t help as he stands to shout for your attention.

“Hey! It’s just a fountain--Woah!”

Katsuki wasn’t expecting you to be leaning down to touch the water so close to where he was, so the moment he stands and turns he ends up bumping into you--sending you straight into the water. 

The fountain isn’t deep, so you sit up without a struggle, but you are soaked. Your hair is ruined, and you spit water from your mouth. Rubbing your eyes of stray droplets, Katsuki winces at the fact you will start to cry at any moment--as well as the hits he’ll receive later, although he tries not to think about it.

“I, what were you, are you okay? Why were you so close to me?”

He grabs you by the arms and tries to pull you out, sending nervous glances to the large windows to his left. He can tell you’re still processing what happened; you’re rapidly blinking and proving to be of little help as Katsuki drags you out and plops you to sit on the edge--much to his annoyance. 

When your (e/c) eyes bore into his own, he knows this is it; this is the moment where you’ll start to throw a fit, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Don’t cry, for the love of--”

Instead of tears, he is granted with laughter that thoroughly confuses him--why were you laughing? You chortle loudly, gripping the sides of your stomach and leaning forward. Katsuki doesn’t know whether he should steady you or step back, so he just stays still, watching as your body shakes and shivers from the breeze--yet you still laugh.

“What, just what is so funny?” Exasperation tugs his lips downward, and you struggle to contain yourself.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it--I, I fell into a fountain! Mother is going to be furious.”

You stand, and Katsuki jumps back to avoid getting wet; your skirts are weighed down by the water, and it falls to the ground around your shoes. Although, it doesn’t matter much, seeing as your shoes are also soaked straight through. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists in amusement, he struggles to contain his own laughter at the full sight of you.

“You look like a wet cat.”

“I feel like a wet cat.”

“You aren’t going to cry, are you?”

“Cry?” You tilt your head in confusion, grasping the ends of your dress to ring out as much water as you could. “Why would I cry?”

“Because, um, well, because you fell?”

“So?”

“So now your dress is ruined. Don’t you girls care about stuff like that?”

“It will dry, won’t it?” You shrug, grinning brightly up at him. “Besides, these dresses are pretty itchy.”

Huh. You were strange--especially for a girl. 

-----

“Katsu!” 

He turns at the sound of your voice, watching as you hike your skirts up and run towards him. He faintly hears your mother yelling at you to behave, to act more proper, but you pay no heed as you continue on. You’re out of breath by the time you reach him, yet you’re still grinning wide, with a missing tooth on display.

“You’re not supposed to run like that--you act like such a boy sometimes.”

He has to look away as you puff your cheeks in protest, smoothing your dress down as if it would help. You were awfully annoying. 

“How mean of you Katsu, I came for you to be nice and play with me, not for you to be grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy!”

“You are too!”

Katsuki huffs, flicking your forehead before running further off into the woodland behind the manor. The yelp of aggravation causes him to laugh, and he turns back to see you chasing after him--the bottom of your dress collecting dust and you weren’t upset about it. 

Good, he didn’t want to be friends with a girl who was fussy and cry-babyish after all. 

-----

“Katsu!”

He holds in a sigh, seeing the table you have set before you--the same table you have been decorating differently for the last week in fact. Why did you have to do this anyway? What was the point of setting a table--didn’t the maids do that? Who cares what it looks like, it was just for gossiping ladies wasn’t it? 

He spots another occupant and the table, and this time he cannot hold in his sigh of annoyance. Of course, Izuku had to be here, the little wimp never knew how to say no to you.

“Katsu, come sit and enjoy some tea!”

Your smile was small--formal--and Katsuki found the sight rather gross. Still, he sat down. Not because you asked him to, he was just tired after having to come all the way to your home. That was all.

“Good to see you, Katsuki!” Izuku waves shyly.

“I would say likewise, but it would not be gentlemanly of me to be dishonest.”

“Behave.”

He rolls his eyes at your input, leaning back in the chair as you come close and pour him a cup of tea. He observes your side profile, the way your brows--that used to be furrow in concentration as you struggled not to spill a drop--now stay smooth and worry-free. You’re graceful and poised, something he wasn’t used to. You catch him looking through the corner of your eye, and you smile sweetly at him. He quickly huffs, looking away annoyed.

Girls were so weird--you were so weird.  

Katsuki watches as you gracefully take your place in the chair across from him, conversing in idle chatter with Izuku about who knows what. You sat straight, arms perfectly crossed over your lap, with a flawlessly pressed gown, and not a hair out of place. 

“I just feel as if something is missing from the décor, don’t you agree?”

“I believe it is lovely, (y/n).” 

“Well, thank you Izu, but I really believe there is just, just something that I need to add.”

You sigh, face screwing up as you ponder, and Katsuki acknowledges that he prefers your face this way. Less put together, more you. It’s easier to make fun of that way, of course.

“Your face will be stuck if you continue looking in such an ugly manner.”

“Oh hush you fiend, I do not need beauty tips from someone whose frown lines are more prominent than his fathers.”

Katsuki exhales quickly, amused at your quick wit. 

Time passes and they leave you, Katsuki sending Izuku off with a warning of his victory at the next fencing match. Yet before he can fully leave your tea room, he glances back and watches as you continue to fret over whatever it could be you need for your final table piece. He turns away before you notice, heading home, and finds himself in his own mother’s parlor. 

Her spread is just about the same as any other boring table, and yet set in the center was a large bouquet of her favorite flowers. Petals decorated around the tins and plates that would have held the food. Scoffing in distaste he leaves for his room, muttering how boring and stupid tea parties were and how he would never understand. 

On his walk home after school the next day, he takes a long way home through a field of flora. He didn’t want to go home right away, that was all, and this was the longest route he knew. It wasn’t his fault it was full of flowers, and it certainly wasn’t his fault as he spotted a vibrant shrub of sunset-colored ones that he just had to pick. 

Once inside his home, he mentally cursed as the first person to notice him was no one other than his mother.

“Katsuki, what are those?”

“Flowers mother, of course.”

His tone didn’t go unnoticed, and Lady Bakugou clicked her tongue at his words. 

“For whom are your, of-course-flowers, to go to?”

“No one. I simply wanted them.”

“You simply wanted an alstroemeria--a romance flower?”

“I just wanted them; I do not care what they are.”

“...What an insufferable child.” She dismissed him with a wave.

He holds his tongue, rushing up the stairs and away from her scrutinizing eyes. A breath of relief stops short as she speaks up once more, a teasing tilt to her voice.

“Would you tell Miss (l/n) I say hello whenever you present her your gift? It has been too long.”

Why were all the women in his life so aggravating?

-----

“Katsuki, can you please try to act as if you are entertained?”

“This is the fourth dance today, (y/n), I cannot be any less than indifferent now.”

You both circle each other, the music from the pianist floods the ballroom and he can tell you were counting in your head along to the beat. He brings you back into his arms, and you stare into his eyes, your own swirling with emotion. Katsuki pulls his gaze away, choosing to look around instead; pride puffs his chest as he sees multiple alstroemerias decorating the room. 

“Oh, of course! You must be exhausted--do you want to stop?”

He’s drawn back to your face, and he curses how he is unable to stop sneaking peeks at your pouted lips. He wants to say yes; he wants to tell you how his feet ache, how since he had barely gotten home from his small business trip with his father a mere few hours ago he wants nothing more than to sleep. 

“No. Now continue before I change my mind.”

The smile that stretches across your face is absolutely radiant, and the laugh bubbles from your lips causes his stomach to twist in ways that he cannot explain. 

You really are a strange and aggravating girl--one he can’t appear to say no to.

-----

“Oh Katsuki, it is adorable!”

He watches as you trace a finger along the broaches front, your once sullen mood has now gone at the sight. When he first arrived he didn’t understand why you looked to be so upset, but the moment you realized it was him you had perked up. 

A part of him wishes to believe you were happy for his return, and not just the idea of presents.

The broach pin he had gotten was something he felt as if he needed to have for you; obtaining it on another one of his trips, this one lasting far longer than most. He went away the entire summer, staying in one of his father’s estates in another area he possesses, for educational purposes. As a future Duke, he was constantly thrown around to learn lands, trade, and the people of surrounding areas--especially of the land he will one day inherit. It was rather taxing, boring, and dare he say lonely. 

Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but your presence was quite missed. 

“Of course it is, my taste is impeccable after all.”

“Yes, the only man who would see the beauty in a woman’s broach.” You laugh at your own taunt, and Katsuki clicks his tongue as he pretends to try and snatch it back.

“I will just keep this then if I am the only one who sees such beauty.”

“No, I am merely jesting! Please, I love it.”

You bring it close to your chest, holding it carefully as if it were the most precious thing you owned, and his heartbeat quickened. He knew that wasn’t true--you may not have been as high in social status as he was, but being the daughter of a Viscount meant you still had luxury in life. As well as being the only daughter of your line meant you were pampered, downright spoiled, and yet you were anything but a pompous brat; you were wonderful, kind, caring, and too sweet for your own good. 

“I really do love it Katsuki. Thank you. I’ll wear it always, it looks just like my favorite flower! My everlasting alstroemeria.”

Maybe you were too sweet for his own good. 

-----

“What are you two doing here?”

Katsuki stands beside Izuku as they both find you in the drawing-room, accompanied by your mother. You both stand and bow, and he and Izuku dismiss the gesture--they are both too familiar to want to be treated with such formalities behind closed doors. Your mother allows the boys to take her spot, and she moves to the other side of the room to grant some privacy. 

“Well, we are all to be busy this season--you especially of course.” Izuku starts, soft eyes not going unnoticed by Katsuki. 

He does all he can to not push him away from your side.

“We came here to wish you luck, you are sure to need it with all this prepping you must endure.” Katsuki sighs, leaning back tiredly as if it was him to be affected.

Your laugh lights a fire within him, and he can’t remember when it had switched from an annoyance to being angelic music.

“You both are too kind--I shall survive, hopefully.” 

You fall into easy conversation, and Katsuki remains reserved to observe. 

You’ve grown throughout the years, no longer were you the wild child who would ambush him with sticks in the grove behind his home. No longer were you the young girl who would step on his toes purposely when he would verbally complain. No, now you were a bewitching young woman, one with an enticing face, enthralling wit, and a beauty like no other. 

If you weren’t the top choice for the season, he would be surprised--no doubt would the rest of the male occupants; it was something he was dreading. The chance to court you would be more difficult with the more callers you had and while he didn’t want to use his status as a flaunting point, he would hope it would keep others at bay until he could propose.

However, no one was as big of a threat as the green-eyed dimwit he called a friend. Katsuki was no fool, he knew Izuku cared for you just as much as he did. How could they not become so enchanted with you? 

You were perfect.

“I am not looking forward to all the dancing, it is different than dancing at home with one of you.”

“Well, you must promise to save a dance for me then.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, attention focused on him. That’s what he liked to see.

“Yes, you must. I have been subjected to your torture for years now--I have to see if you can hold your composure while under that type of pressure.”

You snort, an extremely unladylike mannerism that he held endearment for, and roll your eyes at his taunts. 

“Well then it is a promise, I shall always make sure to save you a dance,” you turn from him to the other and the illusion of being alone with you vanishes, “the both of you.”

Yes, if there was one person he’d have to watch for, it was going to be Izuku.

-----

“My Lord, this is my daughter, Miss Tokage.”

Katsuki merely greets her respectfully, not fully present in the conversation as he waits for your arrival.

When you do arrive, it is like time had stood still--no one else’s presence mattered except yours. You were ethereal; your seamstress having outdone herself as you wore a gown that did nothing but accentuate all the right traits. Your makeup--while you never needed it--brought out the color of your eyes and the temptations of your lips. Your hair was adorned with alstroemerias of the same beautiful sunset gold as he had brought to you all those years ago, and the urge to propose to you then and there was extremely difficult to hold back.

As his feet began to move toward you, a body blocked the way.

“My Lord, my dances for tonight are free--if you wish to occupy them, that is.”

His eyes flicker back to you, seeing you hanging off your mother’s arm as another suitor reaches you first. As long as it wasn’t Izuku…

He catches his mothers gaze, and she too looks as if she wants for him to turn the girl away. Yet she offers a half-heartfelt smile, and he feels his resolve crumble. That's right, Miss. Tokage was a very prestigious daughter, and it would be a good match. But that's not what he wanted--he wanted you.

He swallows down a sigh, accepting her offer as he writes his name on the first dance and pulls her onto the floor. Dancing with her is much different than with you; she's not the right height, she feels all too wrong in his arms, and the little conversation there is, is dull. Sure, he is probably the cause of that, as he merely offers polite responses and nothing more. He searches for you again, and finds you standing off to the side--the one and only Izuku standing next to you. 

The song ends, and Katsuki means to take his leave to head to you but this girl follows him, and he tries to explain as peacefully as he can that he is no longer interested before he gives up and makes his leave anyways. 

Katsuki searches the dance floor and sees how Izuku twists you effortlessly, and his anger begins to rise. You both are laughing, as always, and yet Katsuki knew it was different than before. This time, it meant so much more than playful banter between childhood friends. 

Without another thought, he pushes himself in your direction with a simple,

“Pardon--”

Your wide eyes fall upon him and his heart stutters.

“Miss (l/n), a dance? A real dance, anyways. Seeing as the ever graceful Izuku may as well have two left feet.”

“Oh, most amusing, Katsuki.”

When you look away, his smirk loses its humor and grows tighter; Izuku’s eyes darken in return. His arm tightens around you, and Katsuki has to bite his tongue lest he say something he’d regret.

When you take his outstretched hand, he calms; you’re the only one who could soothe his soul with something as simple as your touch. He spins you round, before pulling you close--this is what he needed. You fit perfectly into his arms, there was no way anyone could ever replace you.

“How are you this evening, (y/n)?”

“Very well, My Lord.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of your neutral face--normally at these events you joke and tease him, talking the night away, uncaring of the scrutinizing eyes of the guests. Now, it was as if you were truly strangers, speaking formally as any other person would.

After a bit more coaxing, you relax, and even let out an adorable snigger--he bites his lip to hold back a smile. There was the girl he loved.

“May I say, your hair looks lovely tonight--alstroemerias again? It suits you.”

He spins you, slightly longer than before just so he could control his flaming cheeks, and holds you closer when you spin back. All of his life he never understood why he cared for you so much; you were some strange girl his mother had made him escort around until you were so much more. 

He yearned for your quips and teases, he ached for your time and presence, he so desperately desired to spend every moment by your side. You understood him like no other, conversations with you were never dull, always full of life and warm--and he longed to converse with you until he grew old and unable. 

To him you were his path to true happiness, and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to be truly happy. Yet, your happiness mattered more; Katsuki would do anything to ensure it. 

He bowed when the dance finished, and his eyes looked up and locked onto green. Izuku stood off in the crowd, bottom lip caught between teeth before his attention flickered elsewhere. Maybe this was the opportunity he needed to take, to propose here before anyone else could. But fear kept his mouth from moving, what if you were to say no? What if you never spoke to him again? He could let you go if he had to, but did he really have the strength to never be able to be near you again? 

“Thank you for the dance, My Lord. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” 

Confusion tore him from his thoughts, words caught in his throat as he watched you hastily walk away. Your tone was sharp, words final as you disappeared in the crowd.

When his eyes flickered to where Izuku once stood, he found that he too was nowhere to be seen.

-----

Katsuki Bakugou has never felt quite this hurt before; the feeling of his heart clenching in pain is something entirely new to him. His body is numb, his hands shake, and the feeling of drowning makes it difficult to breathe. 

He is stuck in place, watching as another puts a flower behind your ear and brings your hand up to his lips. He cannot move as you grow shy, basking in the presence of another man's soft gaze.  

“Izuku…”

“If the Lady is willing to accept, may I be so bold as to call upon her tomorrow?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

That punch to the gut is what it takes for him to come back down to reality, and he quickly turns on his heel and leaves. He aches in silence, leaving the ballroom without any goodbyes, blowing right past the juniper maiden who just couldn’t take the hint. 

None of that was important, he was too focused on his need for a breath as his chest constricts with the lack of oxygen. His gasps ring out into the empty night and he’s forced to learn against a marble pillar lest he falls. 

To be reduced to such a pathetic state angered him, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at his so-called childhood friend. 

The anger soon melted into even more pain, and Katsuki clenched his jaw at the way his throat constricted. He knew from the beginning he hadn’t much of a chance, he knew Izuku would be his biggest competition, and yet, there wasn’t one at all. If Izuku won your hear--who was he to argue that?

And so, he knew that nothing will ever be as good as it once was, as you were, nothing will be worth all his effort like you were, no one will ever come close to you. 

But if you were happy, he could pretend to be.

For you, his everlasting alstroemeria.

[milfnearyou]

                 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

      “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟑.𝟐𝐊 | 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 (𝐗-𝐄𝐗𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐈)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: KIDNAPPING. TORTURE. PTSD. TRAUMA. WHIPPING. HARASSMENT. NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. MENTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ELEMENTS. LIGHT TALK OF PERSONALITY DISORDERS AND SCHIZOPHRENIA WILL BE DELVING INTO MORE DETAILS ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.

I ALSO DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SERIES TO PREVENT MAKING THE WHOLE THING REALLY LONG ON ONE POST SINCE TUMBLR GLITCHES A LOT BUT ALSO FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T FOCUS ON VERY LONG FICS :)

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

To say that you were hurting would be an understatement.

Everything and anything served as an infernal memory. Whether it be an object or something as simple as the weather, the effect it had could potentially be triggering for you. This new way of life felt more like a slow, painful process in which you were dying.

Overwhelming, things were now always overwhelming. Your anxiety shooting through the roof, the small person inside of you crumbling away into nothing as you screamed at the top of your lungs only to never be heard.

Your life felt orchestrated, the strings and rhythms conducted by no one else but Lucifer himself. With your pain, he created a symphony for a play, one that was to be forever engrained within your mind, body and soul.

It felt surreal, a simulation with you as its subject and yet, it was in every way authentic. None of it was a figment of your imagination, it wasn't just a bad dream but it was your reality. The scars that littered your body like a tormented and abused piece of canvas served as proof that it had all happened.

Your body ached, countless spikes of excruciating pains rushing through your many vessels and arteries, the nerves on your body were almost always on edge. It was difficult to hold onto reality, the point of returning being so far away that the thought of just letting go, would be a much quicker and simple solution. After all, you were halfway to insanity and the thought of being sane no longer remained a possibility.

It didn’t stop there. Your biggest enemy was your mind. The cursed piece of soft tissue that sat right in the middle of your enclosed skull was the one thing quickest to abandon you, betraying you within a blink of an eye and letting your body act on its own. It was impossible to control your thoughts when you almost always gravitating towards self-destruction.

Day and night, your mind screamed at you, unleashing a cacophony of howling, piercing screams that made your head ring. Blaring on and on, it had no limit. Going as far as venturing into your dreams late at night, filling your only moment of peace with countless nightmares. It was driving you mad. Always pushing you to constantly fight with yourself. You tried your best to ignore the urges but it seemed impossible.

Loudly, you'd scream into the emptiness of your surroundings telling yourself to shut up, to make it stop. Occasionally going as far as becoming physical, slapping the palms of your hands against your temple in attempts to strike yourself awake or hitting your head against a flat surface in attempts to knock the thoughts out. 

But there was no chance to wake up. You were long gone. Stuck in a deep slumber that caused your physical state to act like a zombie. Almost as if your frontal lobe had shut down. Everything occurring in a rather monotone way. Laced with a sudden breakdown that hit you every other day, exploding with fear and anger. The effects of your past trauma reminding you that you still had feelings within, that you had emotions but that they were no longer positive. The negativity overflowed within you and was always ready to burst.

You saw people, individuals who claimed they could help. Medically known as psychiatrists but in your opinion, middle-aged women who seemed lonelier than you were. Portraits of Persian cats hung all over their workrooms, the scowls plastered on the faces of the felines were ones also visible on the psychiatrists themselves.

They always said it was the voices, emerging from your previously traumatic experience. Well no shit, of course, you knew that. It was a no brainer that there were voices in your head, you had diagnosed yourself of having un-welcomed people inside your mind a long time ago. 

However, unbeknownst to the therapists themselves you also knew that they'd been planted into your mind from god knows how long ago. They simply waited for something to set them free, triggering the alarm and giving them proper cause to make you lose your mind.

All they needed was freedom and they were granted access to that with the help of a certain someone. A man who shared the same looks, name and identity as someone you grew close with, someone you developed feelings for. A man you fell in love with that had a terrible secret. It was hard to determine what exactly his secret was until you came face to face with it yourself. And when you did, you wanted out. Pandora's box had been opened and yet, it wasn't even your fault that it had.

You simply had to face the consequences of falling in love with someone who had a duplicate. Was it a clone? Or was it a twin? It was hard to say because he seemed to be from another world, a different planet even but in reality, he was conceived by the hands of a twisted mind. Fabricated inside a laboratory, only to be sent out many years later to wreak havoc upon your life.

And one dreaded night, he arrived. Snatching you away and hiding you for what added up to be weeks of torture. A show in which you were the leading role, the subject to many horrendous acts that one could never imagine. Acts that he always said were done because he “loved” you.

“You know I love you?” He’d say, all while his nimble fingers danced along the grains of your skin. Brushing up and down your arm as the fear raced through your veins. Your blood running cold, the hairs on your neck standing upwards. Your body was all too familiar with reacting with terror.

A few painfully quiet moments would pass, the sound of water dripping from the faucet, filtering into your conversation until he’d clear his throat. Leaning in forwards and resting his lips just above your left ear, his hot breath burning against your skin as you feel yourself holding in your breath.

“Silence isn’t an option, you either speak or be spoken for,” He warns and you nod rapidly in response. You knew the protocol and you knew exactly what it meant when he said that.

“Do you love me like I love you?” He asks. Circling from your back as he stands in front of you, using his calloused hand to hold your face upwards. Cupping your chin, his touch is moderately tender but you know that with one wrong move, everything could change.

“Define love,” You respond, not wanting to give him the direct answer he wanted. It would feed his ego all too much if you were to be so direct and yet, secretly he enjoyed you defying him. He loved how you didn't give in so quickly, it allowed him the chance to get physical and boy, did he love to get physical.

“Define love? I— obviously, don’t understand the concept of love as much as I'd like to admit. But when I look at you, the sickening feeling that emerges within me makes me think that yes, this is love. It’s everything that suppresses inside my chest, threatening to explode at any given moment. The oxygen that carries through my blood, that fuels the life inside me is filled with the thought of you. Love is, being alive and there’s nothing else except for you that makes me feel more alive.”

You fall silent at his response. Simply because none of it made sense, a cluster of babbled words falling out of his mouth as you stare at him watching as his expression slowly falls apart. The look of love is no longer there, replaced with infatuation, obsession and anger. He acted as if he’d known you for an eternity, professing his delusional love as if it mattered. As if you’d have a change of heart and drop everything within a blink of an eye just for him.

“...You must also understand that I love you because I can’t let him be the only person who loves you too,” He adds, “So do you love me like I love you? It’s only fair you do.”

“Love is a blessing in life. Something that isn’t forced upon, a concept in which— it may hold the key to your life in its hands but cannot be obtained without the honest feelings of another. It takes two to tango, not one, but two." 

Momentarily pausing, you swallow the lump inside your throat, pushing it downwards. Allowing the newly found courage inside your body to come forward, "...And I'm afraid I can’t dance with you.” 

Your rejection is something that hits him hard. Time seems to stop as the fleshy look on his face drops, the expression in his eyes have been replaced with a newfound fury. But it quickly wipes away as you watch him throw his head back letting out a cackle, his voice echoing inside the dingy, dark basement. 

Like a slideshow, his emotions were quick to change moving from pure anger to joy as he laughs at your response. You can't help but sit there and think that he's absolutely mad. A man who shares the same body, face and voice as your lover but seems to be much more cunning and sinister. He's evil and he proves himself to be just that with his following actions and honestly, you aren't even surprised at this point. 

His large hand that once caressed your face had now found its way to the knotted locks of hair, gripping it tightly as he shoves you to the ground. Pushing you down from the chair you once sat on and glueing you to the floor. The coldness of the surface is somewhat, soothing against your painfully hot skin as he presses your face against the ground. The weight of his body adding more pressure as he straddles you from behind, moving strings of your hair aside just so he can see your face. Amused, he smirks to himself when he sees you withering in pain, strings of saliva dripping past your chapped lips and leaking onto the floor.

"Oh dear, what a waste," He pouts, bringing forward a free hand to wipe your drool away. The tip of his finger now covered in your bodily fluids as he brings it to his lips, licking his finger in excitement. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he moans in delight, "Deliciously, sweet." 

Disgusted by his actions you can't help but shut your eyes. Shielding yourself one way or another from looking at his grotesquely beautiful visage. Naturally, the tears also begin to seep past your eyes, drifting down your cheeks. You can feel him lean in, hovering over you. A whimper squeaks past your lips when you feel his tongue dragging itself across your cheek, it feels like he's about to eat you alive. Like a lion licking its prey.  

Removing his tongue from your cheek, he brings it towards your ear. Licking your helix before sucking gently on your earlobe, “I hope, you consider this next special thing. Perhaps, as a warning of some sort?” 

Pushing himself off of you, you can hear him rummage around in the drawer he’s got next to the chair you once sat on. The sound of metallic objects rattling around and clinking against each other until it comes to a halt. The silence isn't soothing, it's terrifying. 

Your heart begins to thump profusely, rapidly beating. You find it hard to breathe, to possibly calm down as your mind races with all the possible objects he could’ve chosen to use on you. A knife? Perhaps a nail gun.

The possibilities were essentially endless due to his massive collection of murderous weapons. But you receive your answer when you feel the long, multiple strips of leather entwined in cotton and tiny pieces of cattle bone brushing against your skin.

“Cat o’ nine tails,” He answers, introducing the weapon to you. Teasingly he brings the weapon up and down your bareback. Shuddering in fear as you feel the item grind against your back, the softness you feel now will be nothing in comparison to what you'll actually feel. 

"Baby, remember that I have to do this because I love you."

Thwack!

The first blow that hits you makes your ears ring. The sensation feels hot, tingling at your skin. It's a mixture of pain along with pins and needles, only getting worse with each blow that he gives you. The stinging had a pain so strong and immense that it was hard for you to even lay there still, writhing around on the ground like a worm on hot pavement. You began to feel overwhelmed with pain, your nerves essentially on fire as you struggled to keep yourself awake. 

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

You could feel the skin on your back begin to rip open, the crimson blood seeping from your wounds as he kept going. There was no mercy as you screamed, your vocal cords straining so hard your voice went hoarse. Slowly, you began to shut down. First, your hands falling limp at your sides, your body cased in sweat as you felt drained to a pulp. Then your screams came to a halt, the breathing in your voice drastically slowing down. Finally, your eyes began to droop, fluttering shut as you saw nothing but black. 

Was this the end for you? 

Jolting upwards, you topple off your bed and collide with the ground. Gritting your teeth in pain when you feel your back begin to burn, your semi-healed scars becoming agitated from the impact. Slowly rising upwards you panic at your dark surroundings but calm down once you realize that you're at home. Your sweet Maison, inside your calming bedroom with your lover sound asleep on his half of the mattress.

He's at peace with his soft and supple cheek squished against the fluffy pillow. Strands of his brown hair sticking about, his eyes shut tightly. You can't help but mumble to yourself about how adorable he is before leaving your room. Quietly heading towards the kitchen and flickering on the lights, flinching when everything seemed to be much too bright.

Your eyes gravitate towards the clock on the wall, it was four in the morning. You decided that there was no way you were going back to sleep at this hour. Shuffling towards your coffee machine, you brew yourself an iced coffee mixing in a shot of almond milk with your drink. Adding in a few ice cubes, you stir your drink slowly trying your best to ignore the pain in your back.

"You alright?"

Turning around you see Jongin, standing there shirtless in his teddy bear PJ pants. He rubs his eyes a few times before putting on his circular framed glasses, giving you a sleepy smile when he finally sees you properly through the lens. He looked beautiful in his groggy state and so did you to him with your hair flowing freely. Dressed cosily in his white tee with your supreme briefs underneath it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did I wake you up?" You ask, taking a sip from your drink.

"No, you're good. Can you make me one too baby?"

Nodding in response you turn towards your coffee machine, your back facing towards him to brew him a drink. "Latte?" You ask.

"Mhm, you know me so well," Slowly he wraps his arms around you, failing to notice how you slightly flinch at his touch. His hands travel towards your stomach as he hugs you tightly, placing his nose in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent, "I love you so much."

The scene feels all too familiar and it makes you nervous. Gently you push him off of you, unaware that your gesture has hurt his feelings. Departing from your back he comes to your side, leaning against the marble counter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions.

"I'm fine, just...don't, do that," You reply, the tone of your voice is soft, almost delicate as if you spoke any louder something would break.

"Do what?" He asks while bringing his hand towards your shoulder, frowning when he sees you dip your shoulder away from his touch, "You don't want me to touch you?"

Sighing you turn to face him, observing his hurt expression. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks at you for an answer.

"Nini, it's not that I don't want you to touch me. It's because I'm still injured from the incident, so everything's just a bit fragile," You explain, partially lying through your teeth. It was true you were very hurt but you also didn't want him touching you because everything he did reminded you of the other him.

He nods quietly, smiling softly at you as he slowly gestures you to have a seat at the coffee table, "I'll cover the drink, you go rest."

Sitting down at the coffee table you quietly enjoy your beverage. Jongin soon joining you, seated at the front. The kitchen is quiet, dimly lit by the singular overhanging light you've got on. Jongin's caramel complexion shining underneath the lightbulbs rays. His eyes are affectionate, his gaze never leaving you as he chews on his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know it's been hard and I'm really sorry that you have to be hurting. I just wish that the incident could've brought us closer somehow but it's just, pushing us apart."

Drumming your fingers against the table you avoid his gaze. You don't know what to say, you can't blame him for what happened. But you also can't help but think that had you not known Jongin then you would've never met the other him. His twin or, whatever he was.

"I should've told you about him. Then maybe I could've prevented this somehow," His voice falters as you look up to see him. He's wiping his tears away, the whites of his eyes are slightly red.

"Jongin—”

"Tell me," He interrupts, "Do you see him when you look at me?"

Looking at Jongin, you can definitely see the other him. Except for the fact that the other him or Kai as he liked to call himself had dark green hair. Besides the difference in hair colours, they were pretty much identical. Opting to remain silent, he receives his answer.

"I wish it had never happened but, now that everything's passed I want to be by your side to help you heal. I want to help you through this," He explains. Nonchalantly sliding his hand forwards, he offers you to take his hand and you do, though not right away. Intertwining your fingers with his, you feel his thumb rub the skin of your palm gently.

"You know I love you?" He says and you can't help but shudder when those words come fluttering out of his mouth. Looking up at him you momentarily see Kai rather than Jongin and your heart stops. Afraid that you'll be punished for not speaking back. You say it back, in an almost trained responsive way. Even if the man that's in front of you isn't Kai but Jongin. You say it back because you're still afraid, you're still scared and those affectionate words do nothing but terrify you.

"I love you too."

   𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃: 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐅𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔©︎