#so i write in stretches and now my back is killing me so forgive mistakes

[acotarxreader]

Flower

Azriel x Reader (Rhysands sister)

Synopsis: You and Azriel are sent deep into the mountains in search of a flower that may save Feyre's life during childbirth but quickly the frenemy status is put to the test as past trials come to a head leaving you to decide between your new sister and the potential love of your life.

Warnings: Fluff,, teasing angst, frenemies, physical fighting, mentions of wing damage/loss, blood, sweetness, silliness, Az calling the reader Kid.

A/N: You voted for it so here it is, my next Azriel fic. I enjoyed writing this, did it kinda quickly so forgive any mistakes and let me know what you think!

P.s I named Rhysand and Readers sister Aruna which means Moon in some languages.

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“We’re lost Azriel”

“We’re not, you have no trust in me, this is basic Illyrian training” Azriel pushed an elongated branch from his path, releasing it thoughtlessly to smack you into the chest, a small yelp leaving you. 

“Fucking hell!” You swiped the pollen markings it left from your chest, knotting your face into a scowl towards the back of the Spymaster's head. 

“Next time duck” he called back, grin-laced words.

“Next time pick someone else to accompany you on your wild goose chases” Your boot sank into the uphill climb, the mud sinking its teeth into the well-worn leather as you fought with your lungs to keep breathing. 

“You were chosen for official Night Court duties by an official member of the Night Court government, have a little pride”

“An official Night Court prick more like” You muttered in reply to Azriel’s faux-inflated self-importance. Two days ago you had left Velaris, in pursuit of a special medicinal flower, Madja’s hope to save Feyre from the birth of her child. You had been hiking upwards for what felt like all 48 hours of your journey, your calves practically speaking to you now. 

“Do they not cover outdoor pursuit in your healer apprenticeship?” Another branch slapped into from the direction of the Spymaster.

“Do they not cover manners in Windhaven?” 

“You’ve known me for centuries, you know they don’t teach manners” He grinned, your sure footing overtaking his position as he held back a thicket of branches for you. You rolled your eyes as you passed him, missing his clear deception. Your foot snagged on a millennia old root system of an ancient tree, sending you finally downwards on your travel to bump along a forgotten path for a few seconds before another primeval tree stopped your course. Azriel shot with his usual agile step down after you. 

“I didn’t think you’d fly that far” He laughed down at you, your clothing covered in moss and mulch from your trip. 

“This is it, this is where you kill me. This was all a plot, all those centuries as the best pain in the ass culminating in this fake trip, Feyre isn’t even pregnant is she?!” You threw your arm across your forehead in fake dramatics, feining pain as he Azriel rolled his eyes before offering you a hand to pull you up. 

“I think if I was going to kill you, I’d have left Cassian to drown you that time we went swimming when we were 40”

“Ah, the last time I went swimming with you fools” You took his hand as he hauled you up, your muscles settling back into their place after their 360. You both continued your hike with some element of hurry but also with comfort.

“You used to love swimming with us and I mean c’mon I stopped him, no points for that?”

“You only stopped him because the death of Mor’s favourite cousin would have meant your certain death”

“I’m telling Rhysand you said that”

“Fine by me, he knows” You smirked before skipping along, hands behind your back in rested peace, your head gazing up through the canopy, the stars beginning to sparkle down over the moon-bathed forest. Azriel marvelled towards you, somewhat enamoured at the strong sense of peace radiating from his best friend's sister. You stretched above the sunken path towards a low-hanging branch, bright blush berries glowing in the scarce light. Your linen shifted slightly from your skin as you reached, revealing the troves of scars and chasms from the savagery of Spring's deepest betrayal of Azriel’s chosen family. You turned to him, a childlike grin as your cheeks filled with the lush fruit, a small laugh leaving Azriel as he gently shook his head. 

“Come here Kid, you’re all berry” He smiled, running the back of his sleeve down your cheek, banishing stray seeds until you pushed his arm away. 

“I’m like 10 years younger than you Gramps” 

“And I’ll always take care of you because of it” Soft tones of sincerity radiated from the Spymaster, his usual sarcasm towards you banished for a moment of truth. 

“Until you get old and frail and I send you to a retirement camp, you have about five good years left my friend” He shoved you back with a laugh, moment over. 

Another hour of so of what felt like aimless walking culminated in the both of you scaling prehistoric trees to settle in the canopy for rest, safe from the creatures roaming below in search of their next meal. 

Leaks of light snuck through the budding Spring flush of growth, crossing Azriel’s eyes until he stirred from his sleep. He sat up from his hammock, to look over to the adjacent tree to find your sling empty. 

“YN?” He yawned out, stretching as the branches creaked with the movement, your lack of reply had him calling out again. Azriel’s boots nearly split the soil on landing as he tried his best to keep his imagination from running away with his logic. He always woke up first and always had to haul you from your sleep, you were famously not a morning person. He called louder into the forest, listening back for any reply or clue as to where you’d run off to. He found his step quicken to match his heartbeat as he transversed great ground quickly. Light flashed around him as he found the edge of one of Illyria's many mountainous lakes, to see your silhouette floating in the centre of it. 

“YN!” He roared out, no response from you as his imagination very much took control. Without full consciousness, he tossed his over jacket to the ground, his heavy boots taking a spot next to it as he waded quickly into the silty lake, still calling for you. His feet could no longer touch the muddy bottom as he reached you in the centre of the still lake.

“YN!!!” A marred hand met your abdomen as the other found your lower back beneath the water, forcing your body up where you jolted out of your trance, thrashing water as you kicked your legs awake. 

“What the fuck you frightened me!” You pushed back from his hold, wrapping your arms around your waist, your snowy tank top clinging to your wet skin.

“You frightened me! What are you doing out here?” He pushed his wet hair from his face, allowing the colour to return to his face. 

“I was getting the moss and leaves out of my hair after yesterday’s little escapades, no need to lose your head” You shot back, before beginning to swim back to shore.

“I was calling for you! I thought something terrible happened to you!” Azriel allowed uncharacteristic anger to leech through his words as you both met the shore again. You turned your back to him as you wring out your hair, the drips of water creating mud in the dust. The soaked fabric clung to the fissures in your back where your wings once sat proudly, Azriel swallowed deeply at the sight, trying to keep the crime from inflating his anger further. You turned at his silence, noticing the path his eyes would have followed. 

“Something terrible already did happen Azriel” You bit, snatching your overshirt from the ground to shroud your scars, your shaking hands attempting to lock the buttons into place as the dots connected in Azriel’s head. 

“Is-is that why you don’t swim anymore? You don’t want people to see-to see what they did?” You looked up slowly through your eyelashes, hands on the final button before uprighting yourself completely. 

“The world should know what they did to me, what no amount of healer study I do can fix, what Tamlin’s fath- what that Court did to me, to my mother to my sister-” You bit out, the anger heating your skin seemingly drying the beads of water on your flesh “-and they will one day when Rhysand decides, when I am once again of use to my Court”

“YN, you’re of use now” he attempted to silence your inner voice escaping into the world, only to have you raise a palm. 

“To answer your question, no, that’s not why I don’t swim with you anymore, I don’t because Aruna loved it and the water feels wrong without our little sister-” Cold burning rage that Azriel was accustomed to seeing in Rhysand but never from you filled the space between you. 

“Now, let's go find that flower and go home, I’m not losing another sister” Azriel only nodded before leading the way back to the make-shift camp in contemplative silence. 

The next few hours carried that thematic silence through the woods, only the occasional check-in broke it up. You didn’t even comment when Azriel released multiple branches in your direction or when you definitely passed the same boulder twice. The soles of your shoes were leaving imprints on your feet but you stayed silent, refusing to give Azriel the satisfaction of being right when he told you to change your shoes. 

Azriel swung around to you on his heels as you released a blood-curdling scream from your exhausted lungs, a nearby bird fleeing the tree top at the raised alarm. His face lost any flush of colour as his eyes locked on the arrow piercing through your right thigh. He moved quickly to guide you to the floor as you screamed, blood spurting free from your flesh. In one swift movement, Azriel shielded you from another targeted arrow, it splicing one of the veins of his wings as he winced. 

“Azriel!” You cried, your shaking hand going towards the bloodied arrow. 

“Stay down!” He ordered, pulling some shrubbery over you as you crowed, his century-long training kicking into action as he launched in the direction of the ammunition. Tracking and trailing as fast as he could until he found the perpetrators, two members of the Hybern army armed to their teeth in weaponry. Azriel launched into swift movements, like a well-learned dance with vicious precision. 

Meanwhile, you snapped the long end of the arrow, leaving the cruel head with its teeth buried in your flesh. You pulled yourself up, desperate to follow the sounds of your best friend and his battle cry. Your hobbled step worked perfectly with your exhausted feet, sending you crashing for a second time this trip, down a bank to a stream. The welcomed thud of a great tree stopped you before you could enter the rushing water. You lifted your face from the squelch of the river clay, hazy eyes landing on a brilliantly blue flower, growing like a solitary soldier between ancient rocks. You groaned as you pushed up from the mud, your detour causing the head of the arrow to be pushed in further. You managed to snatch the lifeline from its home, tucking it into your pack before beginning your laboured ascent up the steep bank. The definition of an uphill battle as you fought against the overgrowth, using deep root systems like rescue ropes until you reached the mouth of the bank again. Your faltering step carried you in the direction of the Spymaster, who was deep in his own entanglement. You watched as Azriel slashed the leg of one soldier before pressing the other into a knotty tree trunk, his blood soon covering Azriel as Truth Teller dealt its fatal blow. 

“Azriel!” You shrieked in warning as the other soldier regained some strength, just as Azriel turned to your voice, a green-soaked blade slid into the Shadowsinger’s wing releasing pressurised blood systems.  The advantage didn’t last very long before Truth Teller claimed another victim, the soldier slumping to the ground with a final breath. Azriel stumbled backwards, his adrenaline fleeting until the support of a large oak met his back, allowing him to slide to the cool ground. 

“Az!” You yelped, limping to collapse next to his side, pallor growing across his face. You ran a hand over the wound, bright scarlet mixing with the sickly poison of a blade. 

“I told, I told you to stay” He spoke with gritted teeth, attempting to sit more upright against the tree. 

“You know I try my best to never listen to you” You smiled weakly, tears beginning to threaten the rim of your eyes as Azriel’s head dipped to fall on his chest. You moved quickly to prop his head up, his eyelids like lead as the poison worked through his system.

“We have to get you help, we have to get back”

“I-I can’t winn-ow both of-of us” Huffs of air left Azriel.

“Winnow yourself, I’ll figure it out” He lifted a heavy eyelid open, looking down to find your wound weeping fresh blood, swirling into his own. 

“The-re there could be mor-more of them out here YN, you-you have to be the one to-to go” 

“No!” You began digging through your pack, pouring the canteen of drinking water you had over his wound, trying to flush as much of the sick serum out as you could. The cobalt shimmer of the flower caught your eye again as you dug through for more water, looking from its bright colour to the dullness in your best friend. You began mashing it up into the lid of the canteen, its healing powers flowing into the water as you shook the two lifelines together. 

“YN you-you found it”

“I did Az and you’re going to drink it” He pushed away slightly from you. 

“Its-its for Feyre, get it to Feyre”

“I’ll figure that out, you need it Az” You held the lid of the canteen to his lips, Azriel turning his head from it despite his screaming nerves calling out for its relief. 

“Kid, it’s too-too valuable, give it to Feyre”

“You’re too valuable Az! I’m not losing you too, for once in your Godsdamn life don’t fight me! Let me look after you for once!” You grabbed the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to help the liquid into his mouth despite his futile protests. The sacred serum swirled through his system, like a torch in a blackout, defending off the tar-like liquid that tried to clog his system. You took your overshirt from your skin, ripping the clean sections free to soak in the remaining drips in the lid before applying it to the wound. 

“No YN, use-use it on yourself” He tried his best to push your arm away, unable to find the strength to allow you to make contact with the tattered spine. Unbeknownst to you, in your adrenaline-fueled state, your trousers were becoming laden with the blood spurting from your wounds. You sat back on your ankles, two Azriels dancing in your double-vision. You forced your eyes close, trying to banish one of the Azriels away, the swirl of blood loss becoming a bit too much as you fell back on your side, using a weakened arm to prop yourself up. 

“YN! You’re okay Kid! You’re gonna be okay, stay awake” Azriel turned himself onto his knees, his strength finding its way back to him as his hands met the soft skin of your cheeks, blood leaving them to rush towards your open wound. 

“I knew you’d be the death of me” You gave a weak laugh, your head rocking slightly from side to side. Azriel gave a small smile before closing the space between you, his medicinal-soaked lips meeting your frosted ones. Pulses of energy beat between you both, like everything that has ever happened both good and bad didn’t matter before this moment, each other’s lifeline in every sense. The traces of the river flower pulled you back from the brink with the essence of Azriel’s every being guiding you home. Shadows leapt around you both, pulling you both through the space until cool, clean stone laid under your legs. Azriel pulled back from you, his thumbs tracing over your cheeks as your eyes fluttered open. 

“Are you kissing my sister?” Rhysand stood from his desk to look down at his closest allies, in a ball on his office floor. Cassian leapt to help you up, lying you down on the chaise before Rhysand went to pull Azriel to his own feet. 

“It-it was to save her life” Azriel had thoughts of wishing the arrow had finished him off. 

“Likely story” Rhysand laughed, guiding his dear friend to his desk chair before sending for Madja. Cassian busied inspecting your battle wounds.

“We were attacked and-and they poisoned me and YN she-”

“-she gave you the flower?” Rhysand sank to Azriels eyelevel, searching for answers in the stormy eyes of the Spymaster. Azriel nodded gently, his head hanging in both shame and exhaustion. 

“It's okay Azriel, I wanted it for my mate, YN wanted it for hers” Azriel’s head shot back up to look at the High Lord's grinning face. Rhysand raised his hand to his face, making a locking motion at his lips before standing again, Madja quick on the scene to help. 

—-------------------

5 years later 

Azriel stood at the water's edge, the small lapping of the lake at his feet, the sun warming his wings as he stretched in the healing heat, a small V-shaped scar left in one of the spines. He allowed his eyes to fall close, inhaling the scents of the forest and the whoosh of the gentle breeze. 

“Argh!” He flinched at the sudden wave of cold water meeting his face, rubbing it from his eyes until he opened to see you stood, waist-deep in the lake and laughing. 

“You’re dead” He laughed before wading in as you roared with laughter, attempting to swim away from him to your friends. You took Nyx from Cassian’s arms as Azriel reached you. 

“I have the baby!” You laughed. 

“Oh weak move YN, hiding behind a child” He tilted his head back in laughter, Nyx kicking water up at his uncle, his own fit of giggles leaving him. 

“Not you too Kid! Betrayal!” Azriel chuckled, wiping the water from his face that Nyx quickly replaced again. You hugged Nyx close into your chest, Azriel paddling closer to you, his arms wrapping around the both of you, his hands tracing down the scars on your back, melting into the deep fissures on his hands, making the skin feel whole again. 

“Hey Az! Someone’s awake!” Rhysand called from the shoreline before bending down to the travel cot, pulling your baby from her cocoon, still swaddled in plush towelling. Cassian took Nyx from your arms before tossing him high in the air, Feyre immediately lecturing him. You and Azriel went laughing to the shore again, stray splashes escaping you both. Azriel took the baby from his brother's arms, kissing her head softly as she looked up at him, his entire world. 

“Hello Flower” 

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Whatcha think?

ALSO! There are over 500 of you lovelies!!?? That's so crazy!!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and support my friends! -C

[gwen-writes]

so... i couldn't stop thinking about how hilarious it would be if Astarion planar travelled to my roommate and i's dorm room accidentally (thanks Gale), and i wrote it. forgive any formatting errors, this is my first time posting fic-type writing to tumblr!

totally self-indulgent, silly fun. enjoy if you want!

(1357 words) and shoutout to my bestie "isolde" :) love u

IF YOU WANT MORE OF THIS, check it out on my ao3! gwen_writes

A Vampire in New England

With a quick huff toward her candlewick, the smell of “warm luxe cashmere” was replaced with the pungent sting of smoke. Two clicks and the lamp was out, the two women crawling into bed and whispering among themselves. Sleep ached behind Isolde’s eyes, only allowing her a few more blinks before she was lulled into a dream. Fiora stretched and groaned in her cot, wishing she could sleep as easily as her roommate.

Fiora’s brows softened as she soothed herself with deep breaths, waiting for rest to overcome her. An incomprehensible roar shattered her resolve, glares of purple beaming in a flash of swirling magic. Her eyes couldn’t adjust to the light - she squinted and desperately tried to comprehend what was before her. The beacon dispelled just as soon as it had appeared, and Fiora willed against her paranoia to not panic at the sight of a figure in her room.

“I will never trust Gale again,” A smarmy voice hissed. The shadows allowed no outline of the thing on the floor, but she could see that it was sprawled out on her patterned rug. She was stunned into silence, glued to her sheets in place. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to alert Isolde - who was remarkably still asleep next to her - to alert anyone. But who, exactly, are you supposed to call when a glowing force materializes in your room and dispenses a person in its wake?

Fiora turned her head to look at Isolde, telepathically pleading for her to stir. That was a mistake, notably, because she had caught the guest’s attention.

“Oh, hells,” Something glinted in the dim light, and she realized this visitor had weapons. “Am I going to have to kill you, or are you going to be ever so intelligent and let me walk free?”

Isolde shifted in her blankets. Fiora’s wide eyes darted between her roommate, then the unwelcome presence. Moments passed, and Fiora couldn’t manage any words out of her mouth.

“An answer would be helpful, truly,” Their voice was smooth and fulsome.

“Don’t kill me, please,” She blustered, more pathetic than she wanted it to be. “Just get the fuck out of my room - it’s fine.”

“Wonderful,” They said in a singsong voice. As her eyes adjusted, Fiora was able to make out more features now. White hair, distinctive red eyes. Not intimidatingly tall - they couldn’t be much taller than her. The figure turned sharply, but it suddenly went aflame with a string of profanity. 

“What the fuck!” Fiora jumped out of bed. If the sprinklers went off or something went wrong, she assumed this person wouldn’t hesitate to stab her. Isolde finally awoke, rushing out of bed in a frenzy.

“What! What? What!” She yelped, first giving a worried look to her friend and then looking at the blurry mass of fire. “Oh my god!” Isolde pushed her glasses onto her nose, trying to grapple with her surroundings.

Fiora was scrambling to unscrew her water bottle and douse the open flame, and in its light she could finally see the person. A man with sharp features, extravagant leathers, thick boots. He looked like he had just come from a Ren Faire. 

“What the fuck is going on!” Isolde started opening her water bottle to contribute. “Why is the room on fire!” “It’s a person!” Fiora unhelpfully explained, thoughts racing. She pushed past the flaming body, the fire licking her cotton pajamas, and opened the door. There was one open square on the man’s back, and with the miniscule amount of force in her body, she pressed both of her palms to him, and shoved.

He writhed on the ground, sparks finally deteriorating.

“Don’t even ask me anything, because I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Fiora said to Isolde, exasperated. A laugh threatened to escape her lips, adrenaline coursing through her.

“I slept through a man appearing in our room?” Isolde replied, and the two women were transfixed by the charred man on their dorm hall floor, despite their better judgment. 

“My stomach hurts. I’m sweating,” Fiora hissed. “You should’ve seen it - it doesn’t make any sense. I was trying to fall asleep and this huge light showed up, and it was the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my life, I swear to god. And then, he was just there! He was just… on our floor!”

“What do we do with him?” Isolde asked.

Fiora eyed her wildly, “What do you mean ‘what do we do with him?”

“He sounds like he’s magic, or something,” Isolde shrugged.

“He threatened to stab me before you woke up,” Fiora emphasized.

“But what if he’s a wizard?” Isolde whined.

“Oh my god, I can’t,” Fiora started laughing. 

“Nothing cool ever happens, this could be, like, something crazy that we might miss out on!” She bargained.

“Okay, so what do you suggest we do with him?” Fiora crossed her arms. The cold air from outside of their dorm was tickling her bare arms.

“We should help him! He’s burned to a crisp!” Isolde gestured to the limp man, who was still groaning on the floor.

“If he’s a wizard, he can heal himself,” She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re telling me that a wizard just showed up on our doorstep from a portal and you don’t want to know where he came from, who he is, every single thing he’s ever done in his life?” Isolde tempted.

Fiora gave her a long look, “You’re so right.”

“Do you think he’s knocked out?” Isolde looked upon the man.

“I doubt he would survive that,” Fiora reasoned.

“Okay, each of us takes an arm, and then we pull him back into our room. University Police will nab him if they find a sleeping man outside our door.”

As they kneeled down, hands going under the man’s shoulders, his eyes cracked open and he cut through their plans.

“Lay one more finger on me and I will have your head on a stake,” He threatened. Isolde was faster to jump away than Fiora, like a rabbit in the grass with a snake.

“I told you he was violent!” Fiora hissed.

“He’s a wizard!” Isolde defended.

He pushed himself onto his elbows, scowling, “That is insulting. I am not a wizard.”

“What are you, then?” Isolde’s eyes widened with alarm.

“If you must know,” He smiled easily, as if he hadn’t just been scorched moments prior, “I am a magistrate from Baldur’s Gate.”

“Where the fuck is Baldur’s Gate?” Fiora frowned.

“Faerûn,” He threw up a hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Uncultured little thing, you are.”

“Why would a magistrate show up in my room from a magic portal?” Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just a civilian officer. You can’t be that important.”

“Yeah,” Fiora dogpiled, “And why did you catch on fire?”

He chuckled, rising to his feet. Fiora was right, he was barely taller than her. The cracks on his skin from the burns were slowly fading, but bruises peppered his face. A handsome face, Fiora thought.

“Both of you are very inquisitive,” He complimented, which made Fiora’s stomach curdle. He suddenly seemed much less helpless, and much more like a sneering wolf.

“If you answer our questions, we can help you get back to.. Baldur’s Gate, or whatever it was,” Isolde was uncharacteristically bold. The man raised a brow, considering the offer.

“And where are we now, exactly?” He surveyed their surroundings, and it was clear that despite his blind confidence, this man was very, very lost.

“The United States. New England. Our college dorm,” Fiora offered simply. The man rolled his eyes, not to them but almost to someone in the sky.

“Gods, Gale, I’m going to fucking kill you,” He cursed in a sing-song voice under his breath. He blinked a few times, looked to the ground, and then met their gaze again.

“I’m Astarion,” He raised out a pale hand, “you are?”

“I’m Fiora,” She didn’t take his hand, anxiety still going rampant in her veins.

“Isolde,” The red-haired woman smiled and took his hand, shaking it gently.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

River flows in you (or Dani is finding it very hard to take care of her stubborn, idiotic girlfriend)

An offhand comment courtesy of Owen Sharma wasn’t how Dani wanted to find out she was probably being clingy, mostly because it was extremely hypocritical of a man who spent most of his time following the housekeeper around a huge manor to say that to her. However, now that it was out there—

“You think I’m being clingy?” she asks, her doubts slowly taking shape into a definite worry she would fret over, late at night.

Owen raises his head from where it’s resting on Hannah’s lap. “I didn’t say you were being clingy.”

“You said I was panicking too much over not having seen Jamie for just a day!”

“Dani, darling,” Hannah says, her voice soft and soothing, the exact same way one would address a grumpy pet bird or nearabout, “you’re not being clingy. Just overthinking as usual.”

And how does one not do that, she thinks but takes a swig out of the abysmal cup of coffee she’d made herself instead of articulating it. You kiss the boy who’s supposed to be the great love of your life, but it doesn’t make you feel all the things you’re supposed to feel; what do you do? You stay up at night agonizing the way the girl wearing the nose ring at the shopping arcade turned to look at you, the way her eyes seemed to be telling a story you weren’t brave enough to hear yet; what do you do? The man you were supposed to marry dies and you are haunted by the ghost of him hiding in every mirror you look in; what do you do? You meet a girl who is all the prettiness of the moon, all the light of the stars, wrapped up in one person and somehow, she’s stupid enough to love you back; what do you do?

“Think, Dani,” Owen says. “The girl is a goner for you. She sent a letter because she couldn’t make it to the house for a couple of days. Stop worrying.”

(My darling Dani, this is how the letter had started. The middle read I’m sorry I won’t be at the house for a couple of days, there’s just some; the end read I miss you, I miss your lips, I miss the way you feel in my arms, I miss the sunlight that you carry at the back of your neck, I cannot wait to see you again.

Yours, eternally

Jamie)

Dani nods.

“Is that a ‘Yes, Owen, you’re right and I will indeed stop worrying��� nod, or a ‘I’ll agree to get you to shut up’ nod?”

“Um,” she tells him. “A little bit of both?”

Hannah and Owen sigh in unison.

*****

Dani tells herself she’s not being clingy, the next day, as she sits in her bed, holding the receiver of the telephone to her ear. She’s not. It’s just that today Owen had looked shifty when she’d asked him if he’d run into Jamie up at the village, and considering how bad a liar the man was, yeah, she was right to be concerned.  

(Plus, it’s been two days. Two days of not seeing Jamie’s face, or hearing her voice, or feeling her hands entangled with her own.

She wasn’t prepared for this. She’d never felt this level of intensity with Eddie. Never felt the urgency to be around him this much or stay up to talk to him the entire night. This — being with Jamie — was exciting, and thrilling and unprecedented, and honestly, she seemed to be spending most of her time walking around and feeling dazed with just how much she felt.)

The phone rings a long time. Long enough for her to wonder if she should just hang up. It was ten in the night, after all. Jamie could’ve fallen asleep. She could be outside. She could be sitting in the couch, just feeling sick of her clingy girlfriend and vehemently hating the—

Okay. Stop.

(You are not going there, Dani thinks, furiously. We, and here she imagines herself pointing a stern finger at the Dani in her head, are not going there, you hear me?)

Rewind.

Jamie could be busy. She could’ve—

“’ello?”

“Ja — Jamie?” she asks, because the voice on the other end sounds like it’s been put through a meat grinder and then fed to a hound. But it’s Jamie. She knows that. Only Jamie’s voice can make that thing inside her chest jump the loop-de-loop and end with a cheer. “Are you okay?”

There’s a thud on the other end, a thud that sounds to Dani like someone’s just dropped the receiver in shock, and it makes her smile.

“Dani?”

“Hi, there,” she says, her palms feeling sweaty. Nobody said having a girlfriend was going to require this much fortitude. “I — I hadn’t seen you in a while and—”

“No, I’m,” Jamie says, hurriedly, “I’m glad you called. It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Dani closes her eyes, covers her face with her other hand. She is lucky nobody’s around right now. God only knows the number of jokes Miles would’ve cracked if he’d gotten a glimpse of her like this, red as a tomato, smiling cheek to cheek.

“It is?”

“Yeah.” There’s a sound again, and then comes distant coughing. Dani imagines her standing near the phone, hand against the wall, head tilted to one side. The mental image makes her ache somewhere inside. “Really, really good.”

“You’re sick.”

“Wha — that’s crazy. I’m not — I’m not sick. You’re sick.”

Dani laughs. “Jamie. Baby. You’re sick.”

“You called me baby,” Jamie sing-songs, and it sounds adorable in her hoarse voice.

“Idiot,” Dani tells her. “Why didn’t you tell Owen when you sent the letter?”

There’s silence on the other end.

“Oh.”

More silence.

“Why did he not—”

“—okay, wait, please don’t be mad at him. I made him promise he wouldn’t tell you.”

“And why would you do that?”

Jamie groans. “Because it’s not a big deal. I’m alright. Totally fine. Totally chill.”

“Uh huh, okay,” Dani says. “What’d you have for dinner then?”

Jamie falls silent again.

“Jamie?” Dani prompts, after two whole minutes of crickets chirping on the phone.

“Um, a cracker?”

Dani sighs, tells Jamie she’s in grave, grave trouble, and then hangs up.

Owen takes one look at her, and grudgingly takes the car keys out of his pocket.

*****

Objectively, Jamie looks like death dressed up in layers and fluffy slippers. Looks like her hair hasn’t seen a comb in two days, like her nose could masquerade as a police siren, and her back definitely, definitely has seen better days.

On the other hand, Dani’s looking at her through the hearts that have formed over her eyes, so this is what she sees: the woman she loves, the most beautiful woman in the world, completely at home. Her hair has the same curl that usually tickles Dani’s nose when she buries her face in it; her lips are turned up in the smile Dani’s long come to realize only comes out when they’re together; and her eyes, though red, are somehow still sparkling when they’re looking right at her.

Dani lets out a deep breath she’s been holding for a while. The yearning passes. The relief permeates through her veins, painting her insides with peace.

(Dani’s so in love she doesn’t know what to do with herself)

She tries her very best to sound stern. “Why are you like this?”

“Counter question, Poppins,” Jamie replies, leaning against the doorjamb, and whoa, she sounds worse than on the phone. “Why do you like this?”

Dani rolls her eyes, steps forward, arms raised to hug her and—

Jamie holds her by the shoulders, stops her. Dani looks down, suddenly unsure again. It was one thing to emergency drive to your girlfriend’s place at night because she was a self-sabotaging dumbass who had no idea how to take care of herself; entirely another thing to expect her to want you there.  

“I’m sor—”

“No!” Jamie tells her, shaking her head wildly and then groaning. “I just — I’m a hotbed of germs right now, Dani. I’d really rather I didn’t infect you too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jamie continues. “Snot factory. Ultra gross.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Dani tries, because she really, really wants to hug her girlfriend, germs be damned.

Jamie groans again. “How am I supposed to say no if you give me those eyes?”

A minute later, clutched tightly in Jamie’s arms, Dani counts it as a victory.

*****

Dani sets to work almost immediately.

“It’s not that bad,” Jamie explains defensively, when Dani stands at the entrance to the drawing room, just staring at the mess in horror. There’s a bundle of clothes on a chair, half-empty packets and wrappers strewn around the television, and to her great amusement, Jamie’s bra hanging from one of the potted plants that stands between the room and the balcony.

“I’d really like to know your definition of not that bad,” Dani asks, raising her hands to put air-quotes around the last part, “because clearly it differs to mine.”

Jamie sits on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and pouts.

“You threw your bra at it, Jamie,” Dani reprimands her, picking it off the snake plant. “Look at it. It looks embarrassed.”

“That’s Boulevard,” Jamie tells her. “Boulie for short. And he’s a creep anyway, so you shouldn’t worry.”

(Of course Jamie named her plants. Dani picks this fact and tucks it away somewhere near her heart, into an envelope she’s long labelled “Jamie”)

“Why Boulevard?”

“I like the word,” Jamie shrugs, smiles. “The one behind him is Bourgeois, or Bougie. That there’s Avenue, and Bottle and Ocean. And there’s one at the very end—”

Dani crouches, thumbs at the bright yellow Dahlia that’s smiling at her.

“—that one’s Dani.”

“Huh,” she looks up and grins at Jamie. “Why Dani?”

“Like I said before,” Jamie tells her, solemnly, “it sounds like the best word to me.”  

*****

Dani blows gently on the spoon, then extends it towards Jamie.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Dani tells her, patiently. “I want to. I want to take care of you, and feed you chicken noodle soup, and pick your stupid bra off of your plants—”

“—not where I thought this was going, but okay—”

Jamie finishes the spoonful, and Dani digs in for another one.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  

“Tell you what?”

“That you were sick.”

“Because it really isn’t bad,” Jamie says, offhandedly. She’s looking away, her hands fiddling with an errant string on the blanket, and Dani waits for more. “I just gotta wear it out, I guess. Three days of rest and then back to normal.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s that easy,” she replies, casually, feeding Jamie another spoonful.

“I — I’m used to this, okay?” Jamie pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’m used to doing this alone. Been taking care of myself since a long, long time. I don’t wanna—”

“—yes?”

“I don’t wanna get used to this. People taking care of me. I mean, you might not be around long and then I’d have to go back to it and that would suck worse than,” Jamie sucks in a deep, trembling breath, and Dani aches, “yeah. So. That, I guess.”

Dani leans forward, kisses Jamie on the lips, and then on her forehead. Searches for something to say.  

(Because here’s the thing: she understands exactly where Jamie’s coming from. When you’ve been alone for a long time, you do get used to not depending on people. Part of Jamie sees this vulnerability as a weakness. Part of her sees it potential incoming grief)

“What if,” she whispers, hesitantly, lips still close to Jamie’s temple, “what if I do stay for a long time?”

Jamie chokes out a wet laugh. “Is that a challenge or a promise?”

“It’s whatever you need it to be.” I’ll be whatever you need to be, for however long you need me.

“What if I want you to stay forever?”

Then you have me forever. “Only if you let me name a plant after you and eat this entire bowl of noodles,” she says instead.

Jamie laughs again, and Dani thinks, strangely enough — I’m gonna marry her one day. It won’t be tomorrow, or a week later, or even six months later, but one day, she will. She knows it as certainly as she knows that there is no way she can convince Jamie to go to sleep after this, until she pouts, as she knows that her girlfriend’s still going to be the biggest self-sabotaging idiot in the world, no matter how many times Dani chastises her.  

But there will be a moon in the sky, every night, and the stars will continue to spell out Jamie’s name for her and like every other inevitable truth that exists in their lives, Dani will love Jamie for however long she can.

[up-to-some-good]

Tradition

For @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts Challenge my (second) prompt was Write Me

1972

The train journey back to Kings Cross felt wrong to Remus. It wasn’t the same as it had been before the Christmas break, where he and his new friends had played Exploding Snap and tried not to worry about Sirius, who had gotten strangely quiet.

They were still acting all the same, laugh and sharing snacks as they waited for the journey to end. No matter how many jokes James told, no matter how many sweets Peter threw at an exhausted Sirius, Remus couldn’t shake this inherent feeling of wrongness.

The holiday stretching out before them felt too long, so unlike the short break they had over Christmas, and he worried about what it would mean for his new friendships. Over Christmas, he hadn’t needed to worry: they would be back before long to celebrate their own Christmas together and exchange gifts. Now, however, there was no telling what would happen.

Maybe James would decide that Remus’s lack of knowledge about Quidditch was intolerable and refuse to be his friend next year. Maybe Peter would start to find his Muggle books boring and be relieved that James had abandoned him and follow suit. Maybe Sirius would start to believe his parents and abandon Remus because of his Muggle mother, seeking refuge in Slytherin.

Maybe Dumbledore would realise having a werewolf amongst school children was a mistake and he wouldn’t get to return.

The train journey ended before Remus could talk himself down. James and Peter nearly hit Sirius with their trunks as they hastily pulled them down and raced to their parents, shouting their goodbyes over their shoulders. The other two didn’t move at first, both bracing themselves for the summer ahead with deep breaths.

As Remus stood to reach his trunk, Sirius grabbed his arm and spoke quietly.

“Hey, Remus?”

“Yes?” Remus responded hesitantly.

“Will you promise to write to me over the holidays?”

Sirius’s voice, usually loud and boisterous, was quiet and hesitant. When Remus turned to his friend, he was surprised to see that Sirius looked as anxious as he himself felt.

“You’d want me to?” he asked quietly.

Sirius frowned and tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Of course I would,” he responded. “You’re one of my best friends.”

Remus nodded quickly, not trusting himself to saying anything as tears threatened to spill. The two boys left the train together, not speaking until they reached the platform and prepared to go their separate ways.

Unexpectedly, Sirius pulled Remus into a tight hug as soon as he spotted his mother, glaring at them from across the platform.

“Write me, okay?” he whispered, pulling away from the embrace.

“I will.”

1976

It was deadly silent in the Marauders’ carriage. Usually there was noise, sometimes small explosions unrelated to the noise. Usually, however, one of them hadn’t betrayed the others, using their biggest secret as a weapon and breaking the trust they had built over five years, nearly killing two people in the process. This year, there was silence because no one was going to forgive Sirius. Not yet.

The train pulled into the station and James and Peter fled, as usual. This year, it wasn’t just a fun summer driving them from the train, but the painful silence between their friends.

For the first time in weeks, Sirius and Remus were left alone. They didn’t talk, or comment on the awkwardness, choosing instead to take their trunks and walk off the train; not together, just next to each other.

Sirius began to walk to his parents as they stepped on to the platform, head bowed. For the first time, he didn’t pull Remus into a tight hug and make him promise to write. He didn’t say the two magic words that had become tradition.

It felt unlucky, somehow. Remus couldn’t stand it; watching his friend (ex-friend?) walk towards his parents, he found himself wishing Sirius would just turn around, if only so he could mouth the words and preserve the tradition.

“Write me,” he found himself whispering as Sirius disappeared with his mother.

1978

The carriage was overcrowded, if Remus was honest with himself. The girls had decided to join the, for their last train journey back, doubling the number of people in the carriage. It would have been fine if they were first years, small and easily contained in small spaces, but they weren’t anymore. They were adults now, on their last journey.

It was terrifying. More so when Remus remembered that half of them were heading on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix as soon as they arrived at the station. He was part of that group, with James, Lily and Marlene; the other three set to join the Auror program in July while he had no prospects for his future. Sirius would be going straight to St Mungo’s with Dorcas to start their Healer training. Peter was going home, helping his family pack before they left for France and he stayed for the next Auror mission. Mary would be catching another train, leaving to somewhere far away before she could no longer get away.

Their group, which had been inseparable at Hogwarts, would be spread out across the country, fighting a war at age 18.

Remus pulled Sirius closer to him as the journey neared the end, cherishing every moment he could feel his boyfriend’s body against his own. The mission was only a week, he reminded himself. One week and he would be back in Sirius’s arms, at their new apartment in London.

James pulled everyone into a group hug as they pulled into the station before grabbing Lily’s hand and heading off the train. The rest of the group followed, leaving Sirius and Remus behind as usual. They lingered for a moment before Sirius grabbed their trunks, shrinking them down for transport to the flat, and Remus grabbed his small backpack, packed for his week away. They left the train together, Remus’s arm tightly over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

As usual, Sirius pulled him into a tight hug, his hands gripping the back of Remus’s shirt like he was afraid to let go. Remus leaned down and kissed the top of his head, holding his face their and breathing in the scent of Sirius’s shampoo.

Reluctantly, Sirius relinquished his hold, slipping his arms down to hold Remus’s hands instead.

“Write me?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll be back in a week, Pads.”

Sirius nodded and squeezed Remus’s hands, his eyes glistening.

“I know you will,” he said. “And then we’ll be proper adults, living together and all that. We’ll buy a plant that well inevitably forget to water and almost light the kitchen on fire in our attempts to cook. I’ll sing to you when you can’t sleep and you’ll run out of shelves for all your books. But before that, you’re going to be away for a week, in danger and I don’t even know if you’ll be able to write, but I can’t go without saying it because it’s bad luck. So write me, okay?”

Remus culled Sirius’s cheeks gently and leaned down, kissing him slowly for a moment. He pressed a chaste kiss to each of his cheekbones, then one more to his lips before resting his forehead against Sirius’s.

“I will, love. I promise.”

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock  hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

[aminiatureworld]

Etched Words

Characters: Xiao x gn!reader

Word Count: 2,920

Warnings: None

Premise: He'd long given up the idea. No one should be stuck with him, and fate would never be so kind to do so, no so cruel to punish someone in such a way. And yet you'd appeared, and now he didn't know what to do.

In which the reader’s familiarity is written on Xiao’s sleeve.

Author’s Note: Originally wasn’t going to write this tonight since I was afraid of how long this was going to be but oops. I love soulmate AUs, they’re probably the fic that I make up in my head the most, there’s just so much potential for it.

Xiao I’m sorry I’ve neglected a oneshot for you for so long, hope you forgive me and hope everyone who reads this enjoys!

Xiao would never admit the real reason that he was determined to wear a sleeve around one of his arms. Part of it was tradition, he’d worn it since Rex Lapis had first commanded him to fight, and even if those days of war were long forgotten to most the memories still burned bright to him. He couldn’t bring himself to completely lose that legacy, even in terms of what he wore. To those who knew him that was assumed to be the only reason; but every once in a while, when he was perhaps feeling weak enough, Xiao would lift up his sleeve to read the words snaking across his forearm.

What a lovely little bird, don’t you think? Those words haunted him, tearing apart his thoughts for certain lengths of time, filling his head with a sense of resentment and melancholy.

The last thing Xiao wanted was a soulmate. Soulmates were something destined for humans, those who could live life ducking most of its horrors, those who could feel passionately and indulge in the feeling of love without sorrow or guilt. Most important of all humans would never have to experience the feeling of losing one’s soulmate forever, and living on for millennia afterword with only memory and regret to keep them company. It was a curse to give an immortal being a soulmate, especially one such as Xiao, who battled every day with the chains of his past, with the acts he’d committed and the darkness he’d almost fallen into. No one, mortal or immortal, deserved a soulmate such as he, and Xiao for his part thought he didn’t deserve such a curse. Let him deal with his affairs alone, he didn’t want a punishment like this.

Besides, Xiao had long ago come to the conclusion that he was never to meet his soulmate. So long had it been since those words had been etched onto his skin that he was sure they must’ve been the mutterings of someone who’d long passed him by, or someone who’d never managed to say those words at all. After all, being destined to fall in love with someone wasn’t a guarantee that one would live that long, and fate could be so easily twisted and bent. Yes, his soulmate must be long dead. Perhaps they’d been a worshipper of long ago, or perhaps they’d been nothing at all. Perhaps they’d died in one of the wars in which the yaksha had participated in and perhaps they’d lived to a ripe old age, never once uttering that phrase which haunted him. Either way they were dead and gone, and Xiao didn’t want the reminder of that. He certainly didn’t want others to know, to look down upon him with pity.

So he kept it hidden, and though the words sometimes haunted him at least he had the certainty that they would never be spoken in his presence. Even if a small part of him doubted, and hoped for a miracle.

------

There was a new guest and the Wangshu Inn, and one that was most likely going to be staying for a while. Or so Xiao heard that morning as Verr Goldet checked on the breakfast and made the rounds. He liked Goldet, respected her for her ethic and her wry sense of humor, even if he loathed it being turned upon himself. She was intensely practical in nature, and always had a sense of what was important and what was ultimately not. So the mention of a new and mysterious guest stuck with him the whole day, and though he spent most of his time away from the Inn, he couldn’t help but turn Goldet’s words over in his mind, wondering if they would truly turn out as important as she made them seem.

It had been a busy day for Xiao, as Liyue was still reeling from its attempted destruction and negotiations between the adepti and the Qixing were long and arduous. The meal afterwards was even more so and if it weren’t for the traveler Xiao most likely wouldn’t’ve attended in the first place. By the time he made his way back to his usual spot on the balcony of the Inn he was tired and irritable, so much so that he only noticed he wasn’t invisible when you spoke after him, and after that he was too far gone to really register that fact.

“What a lovely little bird, don’t you think?” You were leaning on the railing, staring up at a nightingale, who was chirping away. “They’re so cute aren’t they, and they have such a classical sort of call. It’s really so peaceful.” You sighed for a moment, a sigh of contentment, and once more focused your gaze back to Xiao, smiling a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry the familiarity, I don’t believe I’ve met you yet.”

It was more of a question than a statement, but at that point Xiao could barely process what you’d just said, and the question itself was lost in the swirl of emotions he felt. Disbelief and shock were the primary emotions, for who could imagine you were real and not a figment of his imagination, but there were other emotions too; longing, frustration, fear, guilt. They all mingled together, reminding him of why he’d both longed for a moment like this and wished for it never to come. And now it was here, here and all too much. Letting out a gasp of breath that meant nothing at all Xiao vanished into the night, cheeks burning with shame as a part of him cried out that he’d just made the greatest mistake of his life.

At first Xiao had planned to avoid the Inn completely, to wait until he knew you were gone and then try to get back the semblance of normalcy that had been completely destroyed. He quickly realized however that it would be impossible to do so. The Inn had become a sort of refuge for Xiao, a familiar place where he could listen to the soft sounds of humanity in the evening and of the wilderness at night, where he didn’t have to worry about sudden changes in weather or running into treasure hoarders or monsters. Besides he’d underestimated the power of meeting one’s soulmate. And by the next morning Xiao was sure that he was going to finally drive himself to insanity if he didn’t go back and see you.

Not that you were there when he returned, for the sun was up and you’d already packed your things, going off to do whatever you did in the daytime. The hours stretched on and on for Xiao, but he attempted to busy himself by walking along the familiar valleys of Jueyun Karst, the familiar atmosphere grounding him as best it could while his mind spun this way and that.

You were real. You were alive and you had spoken to him and you were real. If the feeling of wanting to know you had suddenly appeared then so too had the feeling of overwhelming loneliness, a sudden realization of how dreary, how heavy all the years of his life had been. Xiao had acquaintances, allies, even friends, but those bonds had faded long ago, made weak by death or war or even the long peace that existed now. Even if he was grateful for the peace, he knew that it had made him lonely; all the adepti stayed within their domains and Rex Lapis had disappeared into the city, a place Xiao could never imagine dwelling in. There were humans of course, pilgrims, thieves, the curious mixing with the pious, mixing with the lost. But they were separate from him, and he had long ago developed a total disinterest in regards to most of their requests. He protected Liyue, not the interests of its citizens. And even if he had wished to mingle with them he knew that it would most likely bring them only despair, as curses clung to him and no matter how much he tried he’d never be able to exorcise them.

And yet you were human. Only now the thought truly cemented itself in Xiao’s mind. You were human, of course you were human. Fate would never be so kind as to simply drop you at his doorsteps, smiling and willing to talk and immortal on top of it; no you’d been born mortal, and in that fact Xiao saw only ruin. He might very well destroy you, for though he’d not truly spent enough time with mortals to see the long term effects of his karma might be, he could hardly imagine it to be pleasant. Even if he didn’t kill you time would. And then where would he be? If he already felt somewhat attached to you now, how would he feel then, after you’d truly gotten to know one another? The idea terrified Xiao so completely that for a moment he felt as if he was drowning. You were human. Why were you human.

Despite this Xiao couldn’t help but feel some sense of relief, even happiness, when you appeared on the balcony again that evening. You leaned against the railing for a bit, but eventually grew tired and went inside. Xiao’s disappointment however was negated when you came back, a chair in one hand a book in the other. Sitting down you opened the book on your lap, but instead of reading it you stared out into the night. And, eventually, you began to speak.

“The innkeeper tells me that what happened yesterday was normal. I’m so sorry I scared you in that way, or perhaps that I approached you so casually. I hadn’t realized you were an adeptus you see, although perhaps that was a stupid mistake on my part, as you hardly seem like a normal person. I’m sorry either way. She also told me that you were often up here in the evenings, so hopefully I’m not talking to myself.” You let out an embarrassed sort of laugh, Xiao loved nothing so much as your laugh in that moment, before continuing. “I don’t know if I’m talking to myself right now, but I do have something for you. I found it on my way here, and though it’s probably common enough here I thought it was pretty. I hope you like it.”

The next day nothing had moved from where you’d left it, and to your disappointment the Qingxin had gotten utterly soaked in the morning rain.

Xiao knew he should say something, knew that it was incredibly rude to leave your gift untouched. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t break down the walls that he’d built up for so long. Not that he could completely stay away either. It’d become a routine of some sorts, to come back to the Inn each night and listen to you speak. You were always there, even when the heat became near unbearable or when you came back so late that it was closer to sunrise than sunset. Even then you still spared at least ten minutes to talk into the dark. Xiao wasn’t sure why you were doing so, although he somewhat suspected Goldet in the matter, nor could he tell why you were waiting for him, being hardly versed in the idea of soulmates and unsure whether you’d realized it or not. Regardless of how or why, the tradition still continued, Xiao silent, you filling said silence with words or laughter or sighs. And at least once a week there was a gift. Though Xiao never touched it and eventually Goldet would come and collect it or it would scatter in the wind.

“I have an idea!” Your voice was filled with excitement today and, as if to match it, you’d abandoned the chair, instead bouncing up and down slightly on your toes as you stared out into the sky. “I’m going to do something for you tomorrow, okay. So be sure not to come back until after sunset, or it won’t be a surprise.”

At first Xiao had been completely set on ruining your surprise, after all he disliked being thrown off guard, and you were hardly close enough an acquaintance for him to consider making an exception. The knowledge that the latter half of his reasoning was completely his fault however managed to keep him away, though he stubbornly refused to come back until a half an hour after sunset.

The balcony was the same as ever, and at first Xiao wondered if you’d hadn’t given up on whatever you’d been scheming. However he quickly became aware of what the surprise was when you came into view, a slightly bashful smile on your face and a plate of Almond Tofu in your lap instead of the usual book or weapon when it needed cleaning.

For once Xiao didn’t think about how Goldet had definitely tipped you off, or how he shouldn’t talk to you, or how you were so oddly persistent. He felt his invisibility fall off of him, as if he’d shed a coat or a second skin. Footsteps causing the wood to creak slightly he watched as you jumped for a moment, having obviously been daydreaming, before smiling widely.

“I’ve heard you like Almond Tofu!” You smiled, reaching the plate out towards the yaksha. Silently taking it Xiao stepped back a bit. You did nothing in response to the gesture, merely sitting there, hands folded in your lap and face full of anticipation.

The dish tasted wonderful, perfectly sweet and melty it seemed somewhat distinct, although why Xiao couldn’t really tell. Eating piece after piece he savored the flavor, for it’d really been quite a long time since he’d been offered Almond Tofu, and whether it was your cooking style or the fact you were the chef he couldn’t help but feel as this batch had come out better than the rest. Xiao couldn’t help himself. Looking up at you he let out a soft smile.

“I’m glad you like it!” You exclaimed, face bright with triumph. Standing up you walked slowly over towards Xiao, hand once more reaching out to take the plate. Instead of letting you take it however Xiao walked into the Inn and placed it on the nearest table. Coming out onto the balcony once more he crossed his arms.

“If you stay close to me you’ll die.”

This, instead of having any sort of negative effect on you, instead caused your eyes to widen, and your smile with it. Bouncing up and down once more you giggled slightly.

“So it really is you.” And, before Xiao could say anything, you turned around, hiking up the sleeve on one of your shoulders. Xiao didn’t need to lean in to make out the spidery lettering that trailed down towards your forearm. He wasn’t surprised in what he saw. If you stay close to me you’ll die.

Honestly, what does one do in a situation like this? Xiao couldn’t tell, having so long abandoned hope of something like this happening. Yet even while his mind reeled once more from the confirmation his legs didn’t. Stepping softly towards you, slightly weary, he reached out and traced the letters on the back of your shoulder, as if trying to convince himself it was real.

“May I see yours?” You said, turning around suddenly. Although your question was direct your tone had somewhat softened, and a slight blush dusted you cheeks. Nodding Xiao lifted up his sleeve, and your fingers ghosted over your words in turn. “I never knew what to think of those words, once I become aware of them,” you smiled softly, “but I’m so glad now I’ve found out.”

“They’re true.” Xiao spoke firmly, fear at the forefront of his thoughts. “You don’t know my past, my burden. Fate hasn’t been kind to you, and I might very well kill you.”

“I’ve read about your supposed curses.” You replied, leaning towards him slightly despite his words. “But you said ‘might very well’ not definitely. And besides,” you shrugged, “I want to trust in fate.”

“Why?” Xiao let out a bitter laugh. “Fate is hardly kind.”

“I don’t know, it brought me to my soulmate after all. If fate were so cruel, surely it would never do such a thing.”

“You’re acting reckless.” The words might’ve been a rebuke but Xiao couldn’t find it in him to be harsh. How much he’d underestimated what it’d be like to meet one’s soulmate. Well, he’d never do so again.

“Perhaps, but I’d like to stay and get to know you better regardless.” You stared at him, eyes both somehow piercing and soft. They were beautiful, your eyes, Xiao could drown in them and hardly notice.

“Very well.” Perhaps not the kindness of concessions, but nevertheless you smiled. Pausing for a moment you reached up and wrapped your arms around him. After a moment Xiao returned the gesture, too caught up in your gentle grasp to want to resist.

Was fate kind? Xiao couldn’t tell. He’d been so sure he’d never find a partner, never some he could call his home, his anchor. And yet it had come to pass, and though Xiao was afraid, so desperately afraid, he also was hopeful. How could he not be? The last thing Xiao had wanted was a soulmate, but now that he’d met you, he never wanted to be without you again.

Both your phrases faded over time. But your love never did.

[aki-draws-things]

"sender shoves receiver out of anger."

Usually it's Erik blocking Charles from reading his mind, until one day it's Charles who uses his powers (accidentally? Or not) to push Erik away. He never expected to see him crumple the way he does.

Hello thanks I haven't fully wrote in them in years but doing rewatches kinda sparked the wish to write them!

Hope you'll like it it and beware! I'm making a whole bingo card just to write more hurt Erik!

(typos are there cause I didn't catch them through 3 check readings. But I managed to catch the bloody plague instead)

That wasn't what Charles had wanted, hell, that wasn't even what Charles was. It happened, and it had been a mistake, and now he didn't know how to fix it. If there was a way to fix it.

Charles knew the pain of being locked out of a mind, everytime Erik wore that damn helmet, he never said it was physically painful, and maybe it wasn't, maybe it was because that was Erik, and he needed that connection the same way he needed to breath.

"she was there." Erik said, his voice clear in Charles mind even without using Cerebro, he was stronger, and he knew Erik's mind, it was easy to reach. "I don't know where she is now."

"don't lie to me, Erik."

"you're the one in my head, old friend, how can I lie?"

Charles could sense a smile cross his face, he could see Erik, sitting with his legs crossed and closed eyes on a makeshift bed, seemingly meditating.

"you have tricks to lie even to a telepath." Charles accused, watched as Erik frowned but didn't lose his smile.

"poke around, then."

"I don't want to poke around that head of yours, Erik."

"then you'll have to take my words for truth. I don't know where Jean is. She was there, I casted her away when she threatened our peace."

"but you have ways to find her." Charles pressured once more and Erik nodded ever so slightly. "do it."

In retrospect Charles wished he didn't, in retrospect he wished he saw what was happening already. It was written all over Erik's face, brows drawn together, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his lips, parted. That wasn't Charles, that was the one Raven accused him of becoming.

Erik sighed.

"what will you do?"

"I won't kill her, if that's what you think." Charles said, frowning. "I'm not that, I'm not you. I see it, you know? You want to kill her, you, and Hank too. I want to find her, I want to help her."

"im sorry Charles."

Amd he did sound sorry, Charles would realize barely minutes later, he did.

But Charles saw him stretch a hand out, and he saw the helmet fly toward him, and he saw no more.

"don't. You. Dare. Don't lock me out."

He heard his voice booming in the room he was in, he heard it booming in his own head and everywhere around Erik.

The helmet froze mid-air, it fell with a clacking sound and rolled away.

Charles froze too, his eyes wide as he watched, his face twisting in a scream, his mind sending pleads after pleads, begging for forgiveness before any word could form out of his throat.

Erik's eyes were wide, blood trickled down his nose, he wiped it with two fingers and looked at it in disbelief.

"ch--Charles?"

He sounded so small, so weak. Charles saw the room around them twist and crack, like walls made of mirrors crashing, with a gasp Erik fell back and the mirrors shattered around them as Charles screamed.

That wasn't what he wanted, that wasn't what he was, he kept saying over and over during the travel to the camp. That wasn't him.

He tried to reach for Erik again, but only found a blank space around himself, his shoes stepping on glass.

The room he got to was the same he saw, same bed, same wooden walls, same helmet rolled against a wall, same Erik laying on the bed, Hank by his side.

"I don't know what you wanted to do, Charles, " he said, anger still seeping through his words. "but I can imagine what happened."

Charles swallowed, he stretched a hand, brushed two fingers against Erik's temple ignoring the warning growl of one of his once closest friends, but all he felt was nothing. Silence. Snow falling over broken glass and a child, curled in front of a metal gate, his arms wrapped around his knees, and a metal coin in the snow in front of him.

Charles trembled, he crouched in front of the kid who finally looked up, light eyes clouded by tears.

"I'm sorry, sir... I'm sorry, I can't. I'm--"

Charles dreaded it, whatever the kid, whatever Erik was about to say.

"I'm broken."

Everything dissolved around them, leaving only Charles and glasses and nothing else, suddenly Charles was back in the room, with Hank, with Erik, pale and unconscious.

"I-- I didn't want that. I'm sorry... I'm--"

"I'm afraid it's too late for apologies now."

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I��m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Epilogue || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Epilogue: The end to a new beginning

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: PLEASE READ!!! And just like that, that concludes this series. I want to thank you all for supporting me and my writing, I couldn’t ask for sweeter followers to have along the way and because of you guys, this story has grown into something that has stuck with me through my everyday life. Every comment, every like, every reblog means the world to me and it is thanks to YOU that I felt comfortable enough to continue to share this story. I love these characters so much and I’m sad to see them leave but I can rest happy knowing that things ended the way they should and with that, I have my peace with them. Also peep the last few lines that are the same as the first few lines of the series ouch. Sorry to get so gushy but wow, after over 30k words, 8 parts, and many tears/laughter, lovedust is officially over. 

Warnings: Fluff because you all deserve it

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue 

[five months later]

‘Some things never change’ you thought to yourself as Peter’s music slipped its way through your bedroom walls. You had asked for a lazy Sunday morning and the promise of being woken up to sweet but inevitably burnt pancakes. 

The music wasn’t dreadful; you didn’t recognize the melody but it was eerily similar to something you would hear Steve play in his room from time to time whenever he wanted to feel nostalgic. Go figure, you and Peter had always teased Steve to ‘drop the oldies but goodies’ playlist so you couldn’t complain now that Peter got his hands on it. 

You slipped on your robe over the pajamas you had no intention of taking off for the remainder of the day before exiting your room. Once you had made it to Peter’s room, you didn’t bother to knock and instead, opened the door to find your boyfriend scrolling through his phone to change the song. 

“ I was promised breakfast in bed so unless you’re looking up how to make the pancake batter, you better make your way into the kitchen Parker,” You teased lightly, causing Peter to throw his phone to the side of his bed. 

“ I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” Peter stretched his hands out to you and just like second nature, you stepped into his arms and leaned against his chest,” you never wake up before twelve on the weekend.”

“ Well I was working on my paper but someone had to play their music so loud,” You looked up at Peter who only gave back a sleepily, sympathetic smile. 

Peter hummed a soft apology as he moved his hands down to your waist to pull your frame closer to his. He could smell your shampoo- no- he was sure you had used his shampoo yet again but decided to spare you from another lecture of stealing because of how relaxed you felt in his embrace. 

With the music playing in the background, he started to sleepily sway side to side which only made you laugh again.

“ Are we dancing right now? What about my pancakes?” 

“ In a second, I just want to hold you for a little bit longer.” 

“ These better be some pretty bomb ass pancakes then.”

“ Just be quiet and let me dance with you.”

You huffed but didn’t resist, instead, you melted into his embrace even more and closed your eyes. 

With your summer drawing to an end, you could only hope to savor these precious moments with Peter, especially since you had no idea what the following fall would have in store for the two of you.

You knew he would always be around but things wouldn’t be the exact same. You two had taken advantage of living only a few feet away from each other but it seemed like life was moving too fast for your liking now that you had college right around the corner. 

The past couple of months had been nothing short of a blessing. It was a lot to handle at first as the two of you sorted through whatever insecurities or mistakes that occurred before the relationship but slowly, you two managed and tied up any loose ends that were still poking out. 

You weren’t afraid to say it outloud, of course you loved him. But there was something even stronger that helped you two through it all and that was forgiveness. There was no point in holding anything over each other’s head because the end goal was as clear as day and you were relieved knowing that the past was the past. 

Although you would catch yourself thinking back to the terrible memories you had of tormenting each other, it almost felt like you were looking back at ancient tapes filmed through a different lens. You both grew from it so now, when you looked back, all you could see was growth and effort.  

Your heart sunk for a moment as you swayed in his arms. You held him tighter at the thought of change and how different things would be in the future. Who’s to say that you two would even be together forever, of course, you wanted to be with him forever but this life wasn’t guaranteed. 

You could hear his voice right now, telling you to stop thinking of your morbid hypotheticals and so you did. You wanted to enjoy this moment right here and now, you just wanted it to last a bit longer. 

You hardly flinched as you felt Peter’s bare foot step onto your toes, only smiling at the apology that slipped out of his mouth. He could tell he had snapped you out of your daze and Peter, being the ever so curious one, asked you what you were thinking about. 

“ We’ve come a long way huh?” You said as you felt Peter nod above you,” I’m going to miss you.”

“ Hey, hey, don’t be sad. You know I’m always going to be around baby,” Peter pulled away to study your sad expression, his thumb coming up to wipe underneath your eye to make sure you weren’t crying. 

“ I know I know. It’s just...this is the end of a chapter and I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye to it just yet. What happens after all of this?” You asked as Peter pressed a soft kiss on your temple to ease your mind. 

“ Like you said babe, breakfast in bed,” He teased, knowing that it would make you laugh. 

He felt his heart skip a beat when his attempt had done the trick, even if the laugh was short, it was still a tally in his book. 

“ Things will change and that’s okay,” Peter said after a moment as you stayed quiet,” we’ve changed a lot and look where we are now. Did you ever think months ago that you and I would ever be this close without killing one another?”

“ Definitely not.” 

“ Exactly, but you know what won’t change?” You looked up at your boyfriend as he smiled back at you,” I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Your heart swelled at the profession. It was almost like a talent of his to find the right words to say to make your anxieties seemingly evaporate off of you. 

Even though it came out as a whisper, you meant it with your whole chest, those three words you couldn’t find yourself ever getting tired of saying. It slipped so easily out of your mouth, almost as if someone was asking you something as simple as your name. 

“ I love you too-”

Peter barely professed all of it before you pressed your lips against his, his shoulders instantly relaxing at your action. He has kissed you over a hundred times within the last couple of months but each time, he still felt over the moon when given the chance to be intimate with you. 

It was always when you pulled away that suddenly, he was grounded but in a way that still made his heart feel feverish with pure adoration. 

You always smiled after pulling away from his lips because just like the first time you two ever shared a kiss, he always wore the same loving but goofy grin on his face as if he was a schoolgirl. And you loved it. 

Peter couldn’t help himself to kiss you again and for the next few minutes, you found yourself either swaying with your boyfriend to the soft sound of the instrumental love ballad or stopping for a moment to press your lips against his. 

The moment was fleeting after your dad had barged in a minute later, grumbling about how the door needed to be opened at least five feet but even so, you knew the feeling would stay in your memory for life. 

So as you came out to the kitchen to watch your ‘super-family’ attempt to make an edible breakfast, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

You weren’t sure how much room was left in your heart but you knew a person who you would always have space for. Peter Parker.

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[softyoongiionly]

Will You Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change...

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: HELLO YES I MISSED YOU. Guys, I swear i’m working on updating my series (plural) but, I’ve been out of writing for a while and, I needed something to get me back in the groove. What better way than to continue to affirm that my love for Jungkook is unavoidable and, unstoppable. i love youuuuu. This is unedited for now, please forgive any mistakes, I was too excited. 

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

After 4 grueling months of relentless studying and lectures, you can finally say that your second to last semester of university is finally over.

Finals week is still at the entrance of your subconscious as its literally all you’ve been able to think about for quite some time. You haven’t been able to unwind or see your friends and, if you’re being honest, you don’t remember the last time you actually slept for more than four hours at a time.

The good news is…

All of that is now behind you.

The exams have been taken, the textbooks have been returned or re-sold, the mountain of instant meals have been cleared from your kitchen (for now) and, you are currently on the subway headed to celebrate with the only person in the world that could properly bring you out of your post-exam haze:

Your boyfriend, Jungkook.

Jungkook is a kinesiology major, whom you met in one of your labs nearly two years ago. The two of you were friends for a long time before you finally got up the courage to kiss him at a party 5 months ago. And by courage, you mean you had a little too much to drink and, Jungkook looked way too good in his university crew neck so, you awkwardly leaned in to kiss him and he, being the absolute angel he is, pecked you on the lips before explaining to you that he wouldn’t kiss you properly until you were sober.

The next day, you woke up in his bed, alone. Your first response was to panic but, upon slowly sitting up in his sheets, you find Jungkook curled up on the floor amongst a pile of blankets. After a few slightly uncomfortable conversations, the two of you arranged a date and, started…you know…falling in love

Or whatever…

Fun fact: Given the fact that you’ve only been with Jungkook for a few months, the two of you have yet to be intimate. Jungkook stated early on that he wanted to take things slowly and, of course you were more than ok with that.

He’s been more and more comfortable with heavier petting so to speak as of lately but, the farthest you’ve ever gone was having his hand down your panties, and your hand over the seam of his jeans. And you’re fine with the progression of your sex life with Jungkook but, he’s only ever made you cum before and, every time you try and return the favor he politely declines.

“It’s ok, I just wanted you to finish jagi…”

“I’m ok, don’t worry, it will go down soon. Do you feel good though? Did I do it right?”

“Soon baby, I promise, it’s just not the right time yet.”

Once again, you’d never push him into something he didn’t want to do but, you were slightly confused as to why he never wanted you to reciprocate. 

Jungkook is quite frankly the best boyfriend in the entire world. He’s all of the cheesy stuff and, more. Things have been progressing slowly but, you didn’t mind. Whatever you have with him, it feels real.

And to be completely honest, you miss him so much that it’s starting to really get to you.

20 minutes later and, you’re in front his place and sending a quick text to let him know you’ve arrived.

You: I’m outside

You: please save me, it’s freezing  :’’’(

Not even a full minute goes by before you hear the fumbling of the lock and, you quickly prepare yourself to latch onto your boyfriend like a freaking spidermonkey.

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen him face to face so, you can imagine your confusion (and disappointment) when you’re met with the face of his older brother instead.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s dimpled smile is a sight for sore eyes but, it does nothing to wane your confusion, “Kook is passed out upstairs but, he told me earlier to be on the lookout for you in case he fell asleep, which he did.”

A smile is passed to Namjoon as he holds the door open for you, “Of course he did, thanks Joon, is it just you guys right now?”

Jungkook has six brothers and, they all live under the same roof, so the rent is split in seven equal parts.

It’s the only way for them to afford a house off campus.

“Nah Jin and Tae are upstairs too, everyone else is out.” He murmurs and, its then you notice the dark circles decorating the space beneath his eyes.

“Gotcha, are you excited to be done with finals? I feel like I could sleep for 15 years…” You jest, nudging him gently, knowing full well that Namjoon was feeling the same sense of exhaustion you were.

He chuckles and nods immediately, walking with you to the bottom of the stairs, eyes flitting eagerly towards his bedroom.

“That is literally my plan for the rest of the day. I have an adjustment on my project and, after I get that submitted, I’m falling asleep and not talking to anyone for at least 24 hours.” He declares, the seriousness in his tone causing you to giggle.

“I’ll make sure to thwart any of the guys that try to fuck with your beauty sleep…” You vow, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the good ones Y/N…” He laughs, jerking his chin towards Jungkook’s door, “he’s missed you a lot.”

Namjoon’s response is unexpected and it warms you from the inside out.

“Yeah? Did he say something to you?”

You feel like you’re in middle school again, attempting to figure out if your crush likes you.

“He was whining about it the other day, he’s really into you.” Namjoon smirks, before sending a pointed look your way, “don’t tell him I told you that though, he’d kill me.”

The smile on your face probably looks a little ridiculous but, you don’t care, you’re only concern is getting up these stairs and into your boyfriend’s bed.

“I wouldn’t want to expose you for breaking the bro-code.” You return his smirk, passing him to ascend the staircase, “Get some rest, thank you for letting me in.”

“You got it. Have a good night.” Namjoon disappears behind his bedroom door rather quickly, eager to pass out and, you suddenly feel your heartrate increase as you grow closer to Jungkook’s room.

You really did miss him and, the urge to jump into his arms is stronger than you’d like to admit.

Especially given that you know he’s asleep and, you’d have to wait for him to wake up. And you would, cause you know, he deserves to sleep as long as he wants.

You’re not certain that you won’t fall asleep with him.

The door to his room is opened carefully and quietly and, shut just the same.

His bedroom is almost too dark due to the blackout curtains that hung over his windows; a birthday present from his brother Yoongi, they are his new favorite thing.

Jungkook must have shut them in a haste however because, there is a tiny sliver of light shining through which thankfully provides you with a clear path way to his bed.

Soft snores emit from the pillow closest to the windows and, all you can see is Jungkook’s mop of black hair peeking out from underneath his covers. The hum of his noise machine is a comforting sound and, paired with the woodsy vapors coming from his diffuser (a gift from Namjoon), you could feel the sleepiness beginning to tug at your body.

With your overnight bag placed on Jungkook’s gaming chair, you make your way to his bed and slowly peel the covers back.

Oh-

Despite the fact that it’s freezing outside, your boyfriend has unfortunately decided to sleep shirtless, his toned body clad only in his favorite grey sweatpants and, a pair of black socks.

He looks like a god but, you know, that’s totally fine and, not at all distracting.

His brows are furrowed in deep sleep, his cherry lips formed into a slight pout, snores still rumbling deep within his chest. One of his arms is bent at the elbow and, tucked firmly underneath his pillow, his other arm stretched out across the expanse of his bed.

Which of course, poses an issue for you since you don’t want to disturb his sleep but, you want nothing more than to snuggle up to him.

(forever)

Jungkook is a pretty heavy sleeper so, the likelihood of waking him is pretty slim and even if you do, you can at least take comfort in the fact that he’s expecting you.

So you slowly lift his arm, quickly tucking yourself into the warmth of his bed and, move the covers back to their original position. It isn’t super comfortable but, you’re afraid to move anymore in fear of waking him up.

Your hands absentmindedly trail over his forearms, admiring the warm, caramel undertones in his skin and, the veins which protrude gently underneath the surface.

His hand is still covered in the temporary tattoos he got nearly two months ago.

Being the Virgo that he is, Jungkook wanted to insure he liked the chosen designs before deciding to get the real thing. You certainly aren’t complaining but, you are secretly hoping he decides to keep them.

Jungkook and tattoos: a lethal combination.

You lay like this for awhile, admiring your boyfriend, listening to the various white noises echoing off the walls, enjoying the scent of his freshly washed sheets.

He washes his bedding once a week.

Sure enough, you feel your lids grow heavier and heavier, the temptation of sleep growing ever so slightly at the back of your mind.

However, Jungkook’s hand twitches at your side and, you feel movement beside you, causing your head to tilt in his direction.

You’re met with a sleepy smile and, a gaze so endearing, you might just die right then and there.

“You’re here…” He murmurs, voice raspy and decorated with sleep.

It doesn’t take you long to get closer to him, his free arm not leaving your body in order to hug you against his bare chest.

“I’m here…” You answer, a smile in your voice, pursing your lips to place kisses on  his skin.

Jungkook smiles properly now but, you don’t see it, your face tucked firmly into his neck.

He’s so happy you’re here.

His arm moves out from underneath his pillow to envelope you completely, shy lips pressing a few kisses to the top of your head as he shifts onto his back, taking you with him.

“Missed you..” He mumbles almost, coy and unsure but, genuine.

As he usually is.

A smile erupts on your mouth now, as you look up to face him and, for whatever reason you’re overcome with the need to feel his lips against yours. So you do just that and, secure your mouth to his, letting a deep breath out through your nose. His quick too, big hands sliding down your back to hold onto your hips.

“Missed you more” You whisper against his lips, a little breathless from the depth of the kiss you’ve just shared.

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss you again, “No…me…”

The childish nature of his response makes you giggle, accepting another kiss eagerly.

“If you missed me so much, why did you make Namjoon let me in hm?” You tease, still kissing at his mouth, one of your hands sliding over his ribcage.

He nibbles at your lip in retaliation, a slight smirk on his mouth, “Cause I was tired and, you were taking forever…”

Jungkook chuckles at his own whining and, you follow suit whilst shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’re only further proving my point, I rode the silver line to get here, just because it was faster and, I walked through the cold just so I could see your stupid face…”

By stupid, you mean beautiful but like, he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook laughs harder this time, its higher pitched and more genuine, his hands that are on your hips squeeze in retaliation.

“My face isn’t stupid….you’re stupid…” He chuckles, teasing you because, its one of his many ways of coping with how he feels for you.

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, your comeback dying in the back of your throat as your hand comes up to rest against his cheek.

The two of you can’t stop smiling and, giggling as you indulge one another, ignoring the clumsy way your lips connect.

“You look so beautiful like this…comfy…” He adds, his tone taking on a shyer tone as he nudges your nose, eyes half open, “I really did miss you jagiya…”

His words send emotion careening into your chest and, you can’t help the way your lips respond more eagerly against his.

“You make comfy look like a Calvin Klein campaign…” You retort before adding, “I missed you too. You’re staying home this winter too right?”

It’s a rarity for both of you stay on campus during winter break but, this year your families had decided to come to you.

He nods, eyes still soft as he tucks your hair behind your ear, lips pouted that you stopped kissing him for a moment, “Mhm…we’ll be here together…”

Jungkook has his moods like most people do but, there is a certain way he gets that you swear he reserves only for you. Being the youngest of seven boys, he’s used to being the source of a lot of banter and, teasing so, being with you is no exception but, recently he’s been getting softer and softer.

Sweeter and sweeter…

And you’re not complaining…

“We will.” You affirm, pecking his lips again, “we can go on all those dates we’ve been promising eachother.”

He nods, pulling the duvet up higher over the two of you, “Yeah, I have a lot of ideas but, I want to hear your ideas too…but I’m excited for mine…”

Another giggle leaves your lips at his almost jovial tone, his competiveness sneaking through a bit.

“I’m happy I get to spend the night with you more, you keep me warm.” You hum, delighting in the fact that Jungkook blushes at your statement.

“I keep you warm?” He checks, securing his teeth to his bottom lip, nibbling on it nervously.

With a nod of your head, you snuggle into his body, taking in the scent that was uniquely Jungkook: woodsy and clean, free of any harshness.

“So warm.” You whisper against his neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Though, as gentle as the kiss was, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from immediately plumping up from within the confines of his sweatpants. His neck is his weak spot.

You don’t feel him yet but, you do notice a reaction from him: his head tilts back ever so slightly, feet rubbing together at the end of the bed. The teasing words stay trapped in your throat as you decide to push your luck and, kiss him there again, letting your lips linger longer than before.

He doesn’t stop you when you place a third kiss into the sweet spot on his neck, or a fourth or a fifth but, soon enough he feels his dick filling out the empty space in his sweat pants, the sensation of your lips beginning to get to him.

“Jagiya?” He croons into the darkness of the room whilst his heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands sort of fidgeting against your hips.

“Hm?” You hum, kissing up his neck towards his lips, “Are you ok?”

He isn’t, he’s hard and, there is four months of stress sitting on his shoulders that he is certain your lips will melt away but, he’s so nervous.

“Uh…I’m…” He stutters for the right words but, you already know what he’s trying to say because, you can feel him now, pressing into your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” You place a gentle kiss to his stuttering mouth, wanting to check with him before you continue.

“No…yes, shit I-“ He looks torn, glancing down towards his dick before looking back at you, “I don’t know jagi, I’m sorry…”

Immediately, you shake your head, pulling back to look at him, “Hey…hey it’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for ok? We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. I should have asked you if it was ok to kiss you there…”

He shakes his head now, pulling you closer, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I want you to kiss me and…touch me, I just wish I wasn’t so…” He sighs, biting his lip, dark eyes flitting nervously around, “I’ve just never…let anyone make me cum before…”

You have to admit, this shocks you.

Jungkook was obviously a campus heartthrob, literally everyone had a crush on him, even the Dean and, while you didn’t think that made him into some kind of Casanova, you had been certain that he had some sexual experience before meeting you.

But clearly, you were wrong.

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you pull his gaze back to yours, “There’s nothing wrong with that babe. We all do things at our own pace. The two of us have all the time in the world, you can wait as long as you need to…”

His fingers curl slightly against your hips, shifting you until your sitting in his lap, causing you to ignore the way his length feels pressing into your core. A deep breath is needed but, it doesn’t last long because, Jungkook speaks again, surprising you.

“Noona I-“ He kisses you again, trying to focus on anything other than his throbbing dick, “I don’t want to wait anymore though…I’m just really nervous.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks but, you remain focused, allowing him to take all of the time he needs.

“That’s ok, it’s ok to be nervous.” You assure him gently, kissing between his eyes, “Can I ask what you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t know what it’s going to be like and, I don’t know…my hyungs say it feels amazing but, I don’t want to do the wrong thing or what if you use your mouth and, it tastes bad or something, fuck I sound really dumb, I swear…I’m ….”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling fondly into his skin as your hands come up to rub tenderly at his back.

“Slow down for me baby.” You whisper and, the words along with your touch are enough to calm him slightly, “you say you don’t want to wait right? So, what would you be comfortable with us doing right now? It doesn’t have to be all at once, we can take things slow.”

His fingers explore the skin on your hips, as he wears a nervous but eager expression, “I don’t want our first time to be…here or like…after all of this.  I don’t think I’m ready for the way you’ll make me feel, I can barely hang on when you’re sitting on me like this but, I…”

His eyes flit down to your center for a moment, as if the thought of being inside of you overwhelms him. He looks back up at you, lips swollen from all of the kiss, his timid expression tainted with lust.

“I wanna feel what it’s like to have someone touch me…I want you to touch me really bad.”

The world could be ending beyond Jungkook’s blackout curtains and, it still wouldn’t be enough to stop you from honoring his request.

Your finger tilts his chin towards your lips, “I want to touch you too. Can I touch you right now?”

He nods immediately, swallowing around a dry throat and an unsteady heartbeat. To soothe himself, he kisses you again before, nudging your nose playfully, trying to ease the tension he feels.

“Ok, I’m going to get behind you alright?”

Your response confuses him and, you can tell but, you know he’ll catch on soon enough. He leans forward, allowing you sit directly behind him, your legs on either side of his silhouette, your body encircling him with your warmth.

“Lean back against me…” You whisper in his ear, causing him to shiver as he obliges, his bare back now flush against your chest. “Comfy?’

He chuckles, his cheeks on fire at the position you’re both in but, he nods none the less, his hands moving to the outsides of his thighs and, then to tops of your knees, rubbing the skin there.

“Now, I want you to show me how you touch yourself ok? So I can see what you like and, then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll touch you.” You explain gently, kissing around the shell of his ear, your hands coming to brush over his hips.

Jungkook already feels like he could cum, he just can’t believe you’re about to touch him.

He has no idea what to expect.

“Ok…” He tilts his lips to mumble against your mouth, his tone boyish and jovial, “ You promise you won’t laugh right?”

At his question you giggle, kissing him and shaking your head, “Of course I’m not going to laugh babe, I’m here to make you feel good.”

He chuckles too, relishing in the way you make him feel: comfortable and comforted.

“OK, I’ll uh…I’ll start now…” He whispers, his shaky and quite frankly clammy hand leaves your knee and, slowly travels to the band of his sweatpants, tucking underneath for a moment before bringing his dick out from it’s confines.

It’s bigger than you anticipated and, as hot as any dick can be. Swollen and curving slightly at the reddened tip, it makes your mouth water; literally every inch of your boyfriend is beautiful.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath in through his nose as he encircles a hand around his length, squeezing tentatively right underneath the tip, the sensation makes his head spin.

He stays silent as he finds a rhythm his comfortable with and, you admire the way his toned stomach trembles with his own ministrations. You take note that he pays careful attention to his  frenulum, his thumb rubbing over it continuously as he strokes himself.

After a few moments, you start pressing kisses into his neck, allowing your hands to wander over his hips, tracing patterns into his skin.

“Jagi…I-“ He mutters before his words catch on the softest moan, the sound of course caused by you nibbling on his neck, “You’re making it so good for me…”

He sounds helpless, like he knows that you touching him is going to ruin him because, you touching on him whilst he jacks off is already fucking him up.

“Yeah? It feels good?” You reaffirm before sucking gently on his sweetspot, a motion that causes his hand to stall right underneath his tip, his head falling back against you.

“Mhm…” He hums and, if he wasn’t reigning it in, he would be whining but, he stops himself, trying to gain some sense, “Do you know how to touch me now?”

He’s starting to feel impatient, because he knows the way your hands feel on him now and, his dick is so hard he feels like he could burst.

You smirk fondly against his neck as you nod slowly, your hand trailing over his wrist which is still working on his length, “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” He answers immediately, letting his hand fall to the side, his eyes closing tightly as he prepares himself for your touch.

“Just relax for me ok? I’m going to make you feel so good.” You coo into his ear before slowly resuming the touch on Jungkooks length.

At the first squeeze of your hand, he’s quite certain he has never felt more pleasure in his entire life, as you slowly drag your fist up his aching dick, his mouth falls open in complete awe but, when you begin the same rhythm he had just performed on himself, Jungkook swears his going to melt into a puddle on the bed.

“Oh-“ He huffs, his eyes popping open to zero in on your hand because, watching you touch him is enough to fill up his spank bank for the rest of the year. “Oh my god…Noona…you’re touching me…”

He’s in disbelief. In 22 years, his never let anyone touch him like this before and, although he can’t believe he ever lived without it, he’s glad it was you who touched him first.

“Mhm…” You hum in his ear, kissing gently on the side of his face, “Does it feel good baby?”

As your thumb repeats his early movements, his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, his adams apple jumping around his throat as he swallows.

“I can’t…feel anything else but, your hand on my dick I-oh my fucking god…” He whimpers, his eyes popping open again to watch your pace increase.

His words surprise you, he’s never been so vulgar before and, now you know why but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear more.

“Nothing else huh? Do you think you’re gonna cum for me baby?” You’re egging him on, wanting him to cum his brains out for you.

You gotta make a good first impression after all…

He nods, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his abs trembling even more so with your motions, his toes curling painfully against the sheets.

“Yeah…really soon…for you..” He gets out, not thinking clearly enough to form full sentences.

“Yeah? What if I went a little faster hm? Would that do the trick baby? Will you make a mess now?”

Oh he’s fuck now.

As your pace increases on him, you focus more attention on his throbbing tip, pulling and squeezing him to the point of no return. Jungkook feels nothing but, pleasure as he starts to rock his hips up into your touch.

“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…oh my god you’re so good…” He mutters before a whimper takes over his speech, eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back against you once more, “fuck….thank you Noona…god thank you so much…”

Those are his last words before his release comes, the sweltering pleasure consuming his entire being, starting up from his balls and, shooting up his length. Jungkook knows in his heart he’s never cum so hard in his life. Nothing could ever compare to the way you make him feel.

“There you go…let it out baby…” You whisper, kissing at his cheeks as you stroke him through his release.

Once his hips begin to twitch with sensitivity, you slow your pace on him, easing off his dick.

Jungkook’s breathing his erratic and, he feels drunk off of the pleasure he’s just received but, he knows for a fact that he came all over himself and, all over your hand.

You wait for him to open his eyes so, he can watch you lick his release from your fingers, taking time to show him the skills of yours he’s yet to experience.

“holy shit…” He mutters, eyes completely glazed over before leaning in and capturing your lips between his and, kissing you with everything he has.

You giggle against his lips before, squealing unceremoniously into the kiss as Jungkook turns quickly in your grip, falling back towards the foot of the bed and, taking you with him. He just chuckles, kissing you harder as he lets his hands run a little more freely over your body.

“I’m guessing you liked it?” You tease into the kiss before he leans back, his expression completely offended.

“Liked it? You’re guessing I liked it???” He blazes dubiously before, pinching your sides and, suddenly leaning into kiss all over your face, nibbling on your cheeks, “You almost made me cry…”

“You cry all the time…” You point out, pinching his side back, causing him to gasp in mock horror.

“Shut upppp…” He whines, smirking as he tucks his face into your neck, nibbling on the skin again and, while it seems innocent, soon enough Jungkook’s nibbling turns into kissing and, his playful touch on your hips turns to caressing.

“Noona?” His tone has shifted lower, it shoots straight down to your core.

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes shut against the sensation of his lips.

“Will you make a mess now?”

[jamilelucato]

could u do one where the reader has had a rlly bad day and then ron comforts her with cuddles and then they fall asleep tgt but the reader has nightmares and wakes up to ron shaking her while she’s crying in his arms 👉🏻👈🏻 while he tells her everyth is gg to be okay

Home [Ron Weasley]

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Summary: reader (any house) spends the summer in the Burrow because she’s running from where she thought was her home. But she’ll soon find out she has a new home.

A/N: thanks for the request! I’ve never written for Ron before, so I’m sorry if he feels out of character. Anyway, it’s a bit sad but also very cute, it has a somehow happy ending. Kinda inspired by Home (Edith Whiskers) because I was listening to it nonstop while writing.

PS: if you’re waiting for the rest of the fics from the HP Musical, it’s coming, guys, be patient. Gotta say the same for those waiting for their requests. 

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

One of the best things about being Ronald Weasley’s best friend was the chance to spend summers at the Burrow. In your opinion, there was no more beautiful sunset than the one you, Harry, Ron and Hermione would watch from the top of the hill.

When you stayed at the Burrow, nothing could bother you. Not even Fred and George’s pranks, nor Percy complaining you all were too loud. Not even having to help Mrs Weasley out was a problem.

Last week, before you came to stay with Ron, you and your mom got into a big fight. She had got herself in a deal that you could not forgive her for. Your mom was now the newest Death Eater in town, and you could not believe she would side with the Dark Lord.

It wasn’t like you hated your own house.

Well, perhaps you weren’t very fond of your mother — that was one of the reasons you were “hiding” at the Weasleys.

But she did, and so that meant that your house was no longer your home. You couldn’t stay one more day there, living with such a dark witch, so you asked Ron if you could crash there for the rest of the summer. You didn’t tell him why, though.

Somehow the Weasley’s place was your only home left. Deep down, you knew why, but you didn’t want to admit — it wasn’t just the Burrow that made you feel like home. It was Ron.

“I think you kids should go to bed,” Mrs Weasley said, speaking in that way that only she knew how. It could sound like a suggesting for inattentive ears, but the truth was it was a command.

The boys complained, slowly getting out of the couch, scared of what their mom could do to them. Hermione looked at you with a tired smile, and without a good-bye, she and Ginny headed to the room you three were sharing.

You careless delayed your leaving, too scared to let go of Ron. Sure, it was not the first time he was laying on you tummy, but, every time he left, it felt like he wouldn’t come back.

He finally got up, stretching his arms up and fixing his jumper, letting you take a quick glimpse of the abdomen. He is taking his Quidditch practice way too serious, you thought, analysing marks that weren’t there before.

Ron looked back at you, still laying on the couch and offered you a hand you gladly accepted.

You two walked up the stairs, side by side, which was quite hard, but neither wanted to say good-night yet.

Ron stared at Ginny’s door room, which was closed. You followed his glance, breathing hard. Fred and George passed you two, and for the first time that week, they didn’t comment on it.

“Well, good night, y/N,” Ron said, pressing his lips together.

You stared from the door to him, scared to say something you would regret.

“Can I...” you swallowed hard, moaning already but Ron eagerly waited for you to finish your sentence, “...sleep with you tonight? I promise not to make a sound.”

Ron quickly smiled, and he had to tell himself to stop being so happy. It was a habit of you two to sleep in the same bed since you were eleven, so he had to remind himself that for you that probably was just a simple request.

But, by Merlin, for Ron, your request was practically his salvation.

“Sure, follow me before mum catches us,” he said, and you giggled, immediately reaching for his hand. When you touched, both felt something like an electric shock running through each nerve ending, dissipating heat throughout their bodies.

Harry was already there, and upon seeing his two best friends walking in and holding hands, he smiled before hiding himself under the covers.

Harry knew that you two fancied each other and he thought it was pretty stupid that none of you had the balls to confess it. But he wasn’t gonna be the one to ruin the moment.

Since you two were in your pyjamas already, there was not much more to do then to get under the covers yourselves and sleep. But who could warn your heart to slow its beats? It felt like you were in a bloody party!

Ron wasn’t doing much better either, squeezing himself in his bed so it could fit both of you. It was supposedly a single bed, only larger — a magic trick that the twins cast that went wrong, but for Ron, the spell had gone very very well.

“Hm, y/N?” Ron whispered in the darkness.

“Yes?” you were wondering if he could hear your heartbeat.

“Can I hug you with an arm? I’m too close to the edge,” he muttered.

You smiled in the dark, happy that he wouldn’t be able to see how much glad you were that he was about to squeeze you in his chest. His hot, callused hands found your waist with such delicacy that you never imagined Ron would have.

In a second, your face was on his chest, and you could feel his heartbeat as fast as yours. But both were slowly coming to a less quick rhythm.

“Sleep well,” you whispered to him, moving your head slightly just so your voice could find his ears better.

“I will,” he whispered a minute later, hoping that you would be too sleepy to remember.

Your last memory before giving in to the dream was Ron running his fingers through your scalp, and all you could think was how nice it was.

***

“Shhh, y/N, it’s okay!” Ron kinda whispered-shouted in your ear, holding your arms. “Please, wake up, you’re safe!”

You could feel his hands grasping your arms, but you couldn’t manage to open your eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered again, kissing your forehead.

It was finally then when you woke up — scared, confused, sweaty.

Ron saw your eyes spark in the dark and he hugged you, placing a hand in your scalp and bringing you close to your chest.

“You scared me,” he said.

“What-what happened?”

“You had a bad dream, I guess. I woke up to you screaming ‘mum, it’s me, please don’t hurt me’ or something like that,” he informed, pulling you away to see your face. “Crazy nightmare, huh? Scared of your own mother,” his tone suggested he could be siling, but in the dim, you just couldn’t tell.

Ron noticed how quiet you were after his comment.

“y/N? Are you and your mom okay?” he asked, placing a hand in your cheek at the exact same time a tear fell from your eyes and wetted his hand. “What is it, princess? You can tell me.”

You tried to fight the tears, and Ron helped, trying to clean them up.

“My mum and I... the reason I came here without days’ notice—”

“—you never need to give a notice,” he interrupted.

“— is because my mum told me what she had done,” you kept going, scared that if you stopped whispering, you would give up. “She’s with the Death Eaters, Ron. She’s one of them now.”

Ron tried hard to keep himself together for you and not to scream because of Harry. “She what?”

“She said she wanted to protect our family, going to the winner side,” you kept telling. “Winner side, can you believe that? That woman is bloody stupid.”

He revived when you came in, a couple of days ago, with a big smile in your face, no sign of sadness. How you hugged him — yes, this time a bit longer, but he thought he was imagining it.

Ron didn’t know what to say.

Really, what do you say to someone who had a death eater for a mom? If Molly told Ron she was a Death Eater, what would he do? He had no idea, but he would be probably way more freaked out than you.

The fact that you were having just some nightmares about the whole thing and not running around, cursing everyone, only made Ron realise how much special and strong and brave the girl he was in love with was.

By Merlin, did he have to realise it now?

“It’s gonna be okay, y/N,” he said, not sure if it was the right thing to say, but pulling you close anyway. “We’re gonna find a way to save her. Talk some sense into her.”

“She has the mark, Ronnie. She showed it to me,” you sighed, hugging him tighter. You needed it — you would, and you have always needed it, but now you had an excuse for it.

“Doesn’t matter, princess. She’s gonna realise the mistake she’s made, and she’ll come around, and the Order will help protect her,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “And if she doesn’t come to her senses... we’re not gonna hurt her, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

You faced up, meeting his sparkling eyes in the dark.

“But, Ronnie, what if she hurts me?” your question was barely audible, you were scared to even say something like that.

“She won’t. I won’t let her,” Ron muttered, kissing your forehead. “She’ll have to kill me first.”

Still looking into his eyes, you finally smiled. Not happy, but hopeful. You had Ron, and he was all you ever needed. He was your home, your best friend.

“I love you, Ronnie,” you whispered in a quick moment of bravery. You were not worried he wouldn’t feel the same, you weren’t worried if you were dumb to say such a thing.

But, as your home, he had the right to know. If it came to you, you could spend whole days telling him how much you loved him.

His eyebrows shot up, surprised at what he had heard. Somehow, Ron knew that you meant that you loved him as a woman loves a man, not as simple friends. He knew because of your hearts beating in the same rhythm, the exchanged looks causing goosebumps and colouring the cheeks, and the touches leaving trails on the body.

“I love you too, princess,” he whispered back, and all your worries suddenly disappeared.

Ron was in a sudden peace. He knew you weren’t going anywhere. You were his and he was home too.

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Julian

A-a-and it’s over! Thank god, this one was incredibly hard to finish. I apologize to all Julian fans in advance for writing this but I am not really sorry! Well, maybe only a little bit.

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Julian (because he deserves it). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Julian spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot

Pairing: Julian/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Julian, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez this one’s not so good ಠ╭╮ಠ

Size: around 2500 words yet again (what a coincidence, I know)

I open my eyes and see that everything around me is incredibly, terribly dull. It’s swamps as far as the eye can see, with only occasional floating isles of solid land. All of the trees are rotting and old. Their thin branches are reaching up like long eerie claws, with vines hanging everywhere, blocking many paths and obscuring the landscape. I cannot see the sun; the whole sky is covered with heavy clouds ready to burst any minute.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out whose dream this is. Being here alone brings me no satisfaction so I immediately venture to find the owner of this gloomy realm.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, I finally spot a figure leaning on a broad tree trunk. I would have probably missed it, was it not for its white broad shirt floating in the wind.  

Before I can come close enough to make my presence known, Julian looks in my direction. He doesn’t seem surprised and displays something more akin to mild excitement.

“I have not expected to see you here, but now that I have, I don’t want to imagine what would happen if I didn’t!” he shouts and waves at me.

I give him a smile and approach. My boots are already sodden and I am just glad to stand on the solid ground and not ankle-deep in mud.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, leaning back against the tree with arms crossed on his chest.

“Looking for you, of course,” I say, trying to shoo away the annoying insect that seems to have gotten stuck in my hair.

“Oh, how sweet of you,” he says and winks, grinning all the time. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“And why exactly are you here?” I ask. I know that the majority of ordinary people cannot control their dreams the way magicians do, but there still has to be a reason why Julian is in such a place out of all the possible options.

“As far as I can tell, it’s just your regular old meaningless dream, so, probably, no reason. Although now that you are here, I start to doubt that,” he says and squints at me, his gaze full of artfulness.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips.

“No, no, I’m serious!” he says hastily. “I just started to miss you, and now you’re here so I... I’m just glad to see you. And I do want to spend some time with you now since there’s hardly anything better I could be doing here.” The usual grin is back on his face and I cannot help but give him a smile in return.

“You are truly unbearable, you know that?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, then…” he mutters and I notice how his back arches against the tree he is leaning at.

“Well, then...?” I repeat and raise my eyebrow even higher, waiting for him to elaborate. I can guess what crossed his mind, but with Julian I can never be sure about anything.

“Perhaps, I deserve to be disciplined…” he proceeds intriguingly, starring at me, hardly trying to hide the hunger in his eyes.

I shrug and curve my lips, pretending to have no idea what he is talking about.

Julian sighs impatiently and pulls me by my arm, making me bump right into him. I hear his breath quickening and feel the tight grip on my wrist which signals that he probably does not intend to let go.

“Let’s just say, you have my permission to be a bit more… rough today. I do deserve a punishment after all,” he whispers and gently traces my neck with the tip of his nose.

I sigh quietly. Sometimes I give in to one these moods of his, but it just cannot go on like this forever. Not the way he makes it at least.

“To deserve a punishment, you first have to actually convince me you did something bad, Julian,” I say and carefully pull away from him.

He furrows his brows as he is taken aback by my response. Soon, however, he plasters another toothy smile on his face and lightly tugs at my arm.

“Oh, so you want me to beg for it, I see. Fine by me, I even like this idea a little more…” he says and kisses me behind my ear.

I enjoy his closeness but cannot stop worrying that there is no getting through to him because of how obsessed he is with his feeling of guilt. I decide that there is no other way for me to resolve this other than changing my strategy, so I try to soften the expression on my face and push him against the tree.

“Actually, I thought, maybe I could ask you to be rougher with me,” I whisper, doing my best to sound sincere with my request, and rub my nose on his cheek.

I feel him tremble with his whole body and pray to all gods that my plan works.

“Me?” he asks in disbelief. I look up at him, my eyes full of plea and sincere wish, and he immediately gives in. “Right,” he says and lets out a nervous laugh,” I cannot be the only one who gets all the luxury. It’s only fair if I… If I…”

I nod agreeingly and tilt my head back a little, exposing my neck. I see the uncertainty in his eyes and stroke his face gently to encourage him.

I realise that I myself seem to start shaking, expecting eagerly for him to act, and I can neither understand why nor stop it. There is always a certain tension between us at moments like this, yet this time is feels different.

Julian wraps his arms around me, continuing to stare fixedly at one point on my neck. I feel my heart rate escalating and pray that he does something already because the wait is killing me.

He leans in and lands a few careful kisses on my neck. They seem to be as pleasant and gentle as always so I find myself enjoying them and even am able to relax a bit. Lingering uncertainly for a few seconds, he finally decides to give it a try and quickly bites me at the base of my neck. I yelp as it hurts a little more than I expected, and he immediately jerks back.

“I am so, so sorry!” he yells, his eyes round and full of guilt and fear. “Are you okay? Is there any blood? Let me take a look at it. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

I reach to the spot where he bit me before he does anything and feel it with my fingers. There obviously is no blood as he hasn’t bitten even remotely violently enough to pierce my skin. I exhale with relief and look at his worried face.

“Oh, please, forgive me, I will never do it again! What was I even thinking?” he says and pulls on his hair, sliding down the tree trunk.

I squat beside him and lift his face by the chin to make him pay attention to what I want to say.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, feeling the waves of guilt for what I made him do starting to wash over me.

“Horrendous,” he says, his eyes already trimmed with red. “And guilty, and sorry, and…”

“That’s also how I feel when I hurt you, Julian. That’s what I wanted you to understand,” I finally muster and feel the heavy burden lifted off my shoulders.

He squeezes his eye shut and bumps his head against the tree behind him.

“How foolish of me… I have never even thought about that before. I don’t know how you can forgive me for this,” he mutters. It looks like he wants to reach out and grab my hand, but decides to jerk back when our fingers nearly touch.

I take his hand into mine and the leather of his glove feels cool against my skin. We’re both exhausted so the sooner I end this conversation the better.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty or sorry, I just want you to respect yourself more. Don’t sell yourself short, you also deserve care and affection, just like everybody else,” I say, stroking his hand. “There is time and place for everything, of course, so if you want me to, I can treat you differently, but I don’t want to see how you look down on yourself all the time.”

Julian’s lips stretch into a wide sincere smile and he looks at me with all the warmth that a single person can hold.

“I am such a fool, even the manifestation of you I have in my mind is much smarter,” he says quietly.

I look at him questioningly, not understanding what he is trying to say.

“This single dream is the best and most useful one I have had in years. Now that you’ve opened my eyes... I will not make the same mistake when I wake up and meet the real you again, my darling,” he says and lovingly strokes the side of my face.

“Julian…” I begin, not even knowing how to approach this, “you do know that this is me, don’t you? I am not something you made up in your sleep, this is actually me.”

I watch his eyes that were so calm moments ago become wide again and slide closer to him. The last thing I want is for him to have a breakdown because of me.

“I am… the worst,” he simply says and sighs.

“That’s not true,” I object and kiss him softly on the lips. He returns my kiss with triple the force, and I feel like I’m melting under his touch.

All of a sudden, a big heavy droplet lands right on my nose and, disappointed, I am forced to open my eyes. Soon, many more of them follow, and before we know it, we are both sitting soaking wet under a tree that has absolutely no means to protect us from the rain.  

I am worried for Julian so I look him up and down to make sure he is alright. I notice his now half-transparent shirt sticking to the skin on his chest and his shoulder and hastily look away, but he has followed my gaze and is already grinning at me again.

“We should seek shelter,” I say, trying to shout above the storm that is starting, and help him up from the ground.

“Agreed, I am not a fan of drenching in the rain, even if this is a dream. Come on,” he says and confidently wraps his hand around my waist, “I know just the place for us to hide.”

Soon the rain turns into a downpour and we have to run for our lives to avoid its stinging heavy droplets almost bruising our skin. The place is magical, after all, and so is the rain, so it’s much more unpleasant than any other rain I’ve ever experienced. I suspect that the place is in such a state of gloom precisely because of how Julian feels but I keep it to myself and follow his lead. Even while running, he holds my hand tight and turns around every minute or so to make sure I am fine and able to continue going.

I trust Julian to choose the path among identically looking withered trees the branches of which are interwoven with different sorts of creeping plants. My trust pays off when we arrive at a cave entranced which is carefully tucked away behind tall dry bushes. I definitely wouldn’t have noticed it if I were to look for shelter on my own.

The cave is rather small, there’s barely enough room for it hold two people and an impromptu campfire, but we manage. Most of the twigs we are able to gather are completely wet, so I have to use a bit of magic for the sparks to finally start the fire. Julian is ecstatic about what my magic can do while I am silently thanking Asra for teaching me this trick right in time for me to be able to use it now.

Being able to catch our breath in the modest sanctuary provided by the cave, we relax a bit and ponder over what we can possibly do here with such limited possibilities.

I sneakily peer at Julian to make sure he is okay (or so I tell myself at least). He’s in a better condition than I expected, breathing deeply and with his cheeks pink from running, but still drenched to the bone. I cannot help but lower my gaze a bit and notice that his shirt is now sticking all over his upper body, contouring every muscle.

It goes without saying that he immediately catches my glance and reveals his teeth in a predatory grin. I must’ve been gawking at him for too long. It makes me feel embarrassed so I shift my gaze to the fire before me.

“Oh, no need to be so shy, after all, my view here is not much worse than yours,” cackles Julian and slides closer to me.

I doubt his words, remembering that I am also wearing a travelling cape given to me by Asra on one of the holidays we celebrated together in our shop.

It suddenly dawns on me that I actually know the spell that can dry our clothes so I think about using it to help out Julian, but then hesitate. He doesn’t seem like he really needs it now and I am somehow amused by the idea of him staying the way he is.

“How are you feeling? Want me to dry your clothes?” I ask to get rid of the pricks of my conscience.

“No, I don’t think so,” predictably says Julian. “I haven’t felt this good in a while, actually. What about you?”

“I am… fine,” I say. I really am fine but feel hesitant about saying it because it seems to me that he wanted to hear something else instead.

Julian pouts and only nods silently to my reply.

Not knowing what to do, I take off my cape and wrap it around his shoulders to make sure at least the exposed areas of his skin are covered with soft cloth. It makes absolutely no sense since we’re still in a dream and I have a dozen other ways to help him if he wanted me to, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

His smile softens somehow and I see the tips of his ears, which are sticking out from his wet auburn hair, growing red.

“Come here,” he says and motions me to come sit on his lap.

I oblige and soon lean my back against his chest with his long legs resting on my sides. He lets his slender fingers slide into my hair, combing it and scratching the delicate skin on the back of my neck. It’s a very calming and pleasant feeling, so I close my eyes and let myself get some rest.

“You know…” I start, feeling that I simply have to say it.

“Mm?” he mutters, preoccupied with my hair.

“That… what you did… wasn’t so bad,” I say shyly, hoping he will still understand even with me sparing him the details.

Julian’s fingers stop moving and he tilts his head to take a cautious look at my face. Before he can come up with any ludicrous remarks on the topic, I hurry to elaborate.

“Well... it’s you, so I know you’ll never hurt me or… And I’ll also never really hurt you, so… You know… You understand, don’t you?” I ask pleadingly. This turns out to be much harder than I expected. “Sometimes I’m just not in the mood and I want to be gentle with you. You deserve it.”

“I do?” he only asks.

“Change my mind,” I reply playfully, thinking that I will most likely regret it later.

I hear him chuckle and a second later feel his teeth carefully nibble at the base of my neck a few times. It tickles more than it hurts so I follow the reflex and tilt my head back to make him stop.

“If I do, will I ever be able to change it back?” he asks curiously, slides his arms in front of me to hug me and begins to trace circles on my stomach.

“With enough effort, everything’s possible,” I say, positioning my body a bit lower to rest my head on his chest.

“That’s good to know.”

[eevee-eclair]

Don’t Look Me in the Eyes

Written by Eevee

Things to look out for: Blood, stitches, bandages, fighting, screaming, Ranboo goes feral, Unsympathetic!Dream (just incase), Dadza, Big Bro Techno, a long day, mention of L’manburg (RIP), mention of death/torture, spoilers for a book (Eragon), hunger, fever, (please tell me if I missed one)

Random side note: The small mini fic I planned for this to be was thrown out the window. Have at this, I guess. This is my first time writing for this fandom too, so if I get stuff wrong (more specifically the characters wrong) please forgive me. (More at the end)

Also consistency? Who’s that?

~~~

Ranboo walked outside, feeling weighed down by everything. It had been a long day. L’manburg was gone, he still didn’t know if Techno was gonna kill him or not—let alone trust him—, and even though he was living with Phil and Techno he didn’t have a house, just a small shed. Oh, and on top of it all, he promised one of the most powerful people on the server something he might not be able to provide.

Ranboo sat down in the snow and covered his face, trying not to scream or cry. He heard the soft crunch of snow under two pairs of feet coming closer.

“Ranboo?” He recognized the voice as Phil’s.

Someone crouched next to him. “Hey, you good, bro?” That was Techno.

He let out a pathetic sigh. “It’s just too much,” he mumbled.

Ranboo registered Phil putting his wings around him, trying to comfort him. If he was being honest, it was making him feel trapped.

“Yeah... We’re sorry about that,” Techno said, messing with his braid. “But it had to be done.”

He lifted his head, still not looking at them but he could feel their gaze. It made him feel uneasy, so he let out a small grunt—almost Enderman like. “Just because it was necessary doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he grumbled. There was a slight edge to his voice.

Phil sat down. “It’ll be okay. Healing takes time so you’ll be okay eventually!” He was trying to cheer him up but it was only making him feel worse.

Ranboo pulled at his hair, his eyes glowing a little. “I’m tired of waiting!” he wailed. “It hurts!”

Techno sighed. “We know, Ranboo. We’ve both been there,” he said, looking at Phil. “It takes time, but it’s worth it in the end.”

The hand he placed on his back was the final nail in the coffin. Ranboo stood up and let out a cry that sounded exactly like an angry Enderman. His eyes were bright and he looked almost in pain.

Phil jumped away and drew he sword while Techno drew his rocket launcher. “Ranboo, i-it’s okay!” Phil tried to reason. “Just-just calm down!”

Ranboo drew his sword and screamed again.

Techno put a rocket in. “Put the sword down,” he said, aiming for his chest. “Don’t make us do this, Ranboo.”

Phil was going to say something else when he made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Ranboo ran at him, almost as if he wasn’t controlling his actions. He blocked every swing he threw but was quickly tiring. He was just too fast. Techno fired the rocket and it hit Ranboo square in the back, trying to help Phil.

Ranboo screeched loudly, causing the other two to cover their ears. He ran at him, angrier than ever.

“Techno, log out!” Phil cried, following his own advice and leaving the game. Techno quickly copied, leaving Ranboo alone.

When they got back, Ranboo was face down in the snow. His sword was stuck in the ground next to him as red and green blood soaked the snow around him. They ran over, horribly worried.

“Oh god,” Techno muttered, crouching next to him. He noticed blood coming from his mouth as he flipped him over. “Shit, what did we do?”

Phil covered his mouth and fell next to him. “Ranboo, please wake up!” he begged, shaking him a little.

“He’ll be out for a while.”

They turned to see Dream standing over him. The sun hit his back, making him look more powerful than he was. The axe in his hand dripped with the blood that definitely belonged to Ranboo.

“What did you do?!” Phil cried, hugging the unconscious body of their friend.

“I saved you,” he said simply. “He would’ve killed us all if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Techno stood up. “We’re miles away from everyone and we had already logged off. Who the fuck were you trying to save?!” he spat.

Dream turned to him, that mask blocking all emotions. “Myself? Himself? Couldn’t you see how unstable he was?” he asked, shoving his axe into the ground.

“We had it under control,” Phil hissed. “Go away.”

Dream laughed a little before grabbing his axe and shrugging. “Alright. You’re welcome by the way,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Phil and Techno watched him walk away before they turned their attention to Ranboo. They just realized the large cut that stretched from just below his collar bone to just above his hip.

Techno quickly ripped his cape to stop the blood that was oozing out. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of his good ones.

“It doesn’t look that deep so he might be fine,” he told Phil, looking up. “But I can’t promise anything.”

Phil nodded, running his fingers through Ranboo’s hair. He was being horribly reminded of Wilbur at the moment. “Okay,” he whispered. He wiped tears from his eyes. “J-just try, please...”

Techno stood up and tried to pick him up and pry him away from Phil. “Come on, I can’t help him if you don’t let go,” he said gently, keeping in mind how Phil must be feeling.

Phil reluctantly let him go, his wings drooping as he watched Techno carry him into the house. He looked away from the red and green trail that was left behind.

———

Techno quickly put some slabs down to lay Ranboo on. He dug around for bandages, water, and a healing potion before walking over. He peeled back the cloth that had stuck to the wound before he started to clean it.

Phil walked in and leaned against the wall, watching him work. He was silently crying and became more worried when Techno drew in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” he asked, running over.

Techno looked at him and frowned. “It’s gonna need stiches,” he told him, digging through his chests.

Phil started to bite his nail as he watched Techno pull out a needle and thread.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Phil looked up. “What now?”

“I have nothing to numb the pain...”

“He’s unconscious, he won’t feel it,” he said, but he was still just as nervous.

Techno but his lip. “I don’t want him waking up in pain, though.”

Phil sighed. “Then splash him with regeneration after.”

Techno nodded and grabbed another. “Okay then...”

He threaded the needle before walking closer to Ranboo who was still out cold. He managed to get six stitches in before he let out a heavy sigh and stepped away.

“I can’t do it, Phil... I can’t risk hurting him,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“And I can’t risk losing him!” Phil responded, picking up the needle and finishing what he had started. “I lost Wilbur and Tommy! I’m not losing another son!” he cried as he sewed.

Techno decided not to mention him calling Ranboo his ‘son’. He looked at the fire and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Phil tied the thread and started to wrap Ranboo in bandages. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

He wanted to argue that all three times he lost a ‘son’ was his fault, but he decided that was a conversation for another day. Instead he walked over with the splash potion. He threw it at Ranboo and they watched his face that was previously screwed up in pain, melt into relief.

“No we just gotta wait for him to wake up,” Phil said. Then he turned to Techno. “Come on, let’s go find something to do while we wait.”

Techno followed him downstairs, both worried about whether or not Ranboo would live. They were praying he does.

———

Ranboo woke to a pounding headache and a horrible pain in his torso and back. He tried to sit up but immediately fell back down with a strangled cry as the pain in his chest flared up in protest.

Breathing heavily he looked down to see bandages wrapped around his whole chest. He shakily reached over and touched them. He hissed in pain and laid his head back down.

He looked around and came to the horrifying realization that he was back in Techno’s house. A million different senecios raced through his head at once.

Had Techno tired to kill him and Phil saved him? Did he do something stupid and since Techno needed him to get the axe back he saved him? Did he save him to do something worse to him later?

Ranboo was pulled from his spiraling when he someone snapped in front of his face. Looking over he came face to face with Phil with Techno right behind him.

“Ranboo, it’s okay. Calm down,” he soothed, sitting next to him.

“W-what happened?” he asked quietly, lifting his head. His voice felt raw and cracked horribly.

Techno looked at him in sympathy. “You don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “I-I remember you guys trying to h-help me with... something...” he mumbled, looking at the ceiling.

Phil bit his lip. “You kinda... Snapped. You tried to kill us, too,” he added hesitantly.

Ranboo’s eyes widened. “Phil I-I’m so so sorry!” He looked at Techno. “I-I didn’t mean to! Ple-please don’t kick me out,” he begged, trying to sit up.

Both Phil and Techno phushed him back down. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay!” Techno reassured, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m not gonna kick ya out, dude. Don’t stress yourself.”

He dug around in one of his chests and pulled out an empty bottle. He jumped down the ladder and filled it before climbing up and offering it to Ranboo. “Here, drink this,” he said, helping him sit.

Ranboo winced as he was sat up and leaned into Phil for support. He took it the bottle, almost afraid of it, before drinking. It was empty too soon but he felt better anyway—even if it burnt a little. “Thanks,” he muttered. “That’s a lot better...”

Techno took the empty bottle and Phil wrapped a wing around him. “How do you feel?”

Ranboo looked at him tiredly. “Not good... I’m sorry again, by the way. If you guys want to kick me out, I understand.”

Phil started to run his fingers through his hair, earning him a soft content hum. “It’s alright, we won’t make you move. Can I see how you’re healing?” he asked, changing the subject.

He nodded and laid back down. Phil got up and looked around for scissors. He couldn’t find any so he settled for a diamond axe and walked back, ready to cut the bandages off.

Ranboo took one look at the sharp object and a frightened Enderman-like croak came from him. He stopped moving and lowered the axe. “Ranboo..?”

“I-I’m sorry, the axe just makes me nervous...” he muttered. Again, there was a slight darkness in his voice.

Techno nodded. “Understandable. After what you just went through, I’m not surprised. Use a hoe, Phil,” he said, looking at him. “They’re still sharp.”

Phil quickly tossed the axe in a chest and dug for a hoe. He found a stone one, deemed it sharp enough, and walked over. This time, Ranboo stayed still but he still looked nervous.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Phil said, slicing the bandages away. As he peeled them back he took a good look at the stitching.

Ranboo’s eyes widened and he went a little pale. “Wh-what happened?” he stammered, not taking his eyes off the thread holding him together.

“Well, after you started to attack us, Phil and I combat-logged to see if that would calm you down. I guess in that short time we were gone, Dream found you and almost sliced you in half with his axe. Which explains why you were nervous when Phil tried to use one,” he explained while Phil checked the wound.

A small ‘oh’ was all he could say. He looked shaken, in Techno’s opinion.

Phil stepped back. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s not looking the best. It needs cleaned so it has a less chance of being infected,” he said, looking for something to use.

Techno handed him the rest of his torn cape. “Just use this, it’s ruined anyway.”

He took it and went downstairs to wet it down. When he came back, Teachno looked panicked. He quickly ran over.

“What’s wrong?!” he asked. “Is he okay?!”

Techno stepped away. “I don’t know! He said he was tired so I grabbed a pillow to put under his head and when I went back I touched his cheek. He’s burning up!” he said.

Phil quickly ripped the soaked cloth in half and laid the smaller bit on Ranboo’s forehead and used the other to clean the wound.

Looking down, Ranboo had fallen back asleep despite the chaos. “Hand me a healing potion,” he said, looking at Techno.

He nodded and handed on to him. Phil popped the cork and poured it over the wound, hoping it would help. “Bandages,” he requested, holding out his hand. Techno handed him some and he wrapped them around Ranboo’s stitches before tying them off.

“That should work. When he wakes up again, he can eat.” He turned to go outside when Techno stopped him. He looked scared.

“Please don’t leave,” he mumbled after a moment.

Phil pulled him into a hug. “I won’t,” he said, putting his wings around him. “I won’t leave, but I have to get a bucket of water to keep him cool so the fever doesn’t get worse, okay?”

Techno nodded and let him go. When he returned with the bucket of water, he was sitting next to Ranboo and reading a book. Phil smiled and put a block down to sit on.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked as he took the cloth off his head and wet it back down.

Techno looked up, his reading glasses slipping down his nose a little. “Eragon.”

Phil nodded. “Care to read to me?”

He nodded and started to read out loud. That’s how they spent the next hour, Techno reading to Phil as he tried to keep Ranboo’s fever down. As he read, Techno started to forget about his worries and focused on Eragon and Saphira’s adventures.

———

“A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood,” Techno read. He yawned and closed his book. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed,” he muttered.

“But what happened to the woman in his dream?”

Both men jumped and turned to see that Ranboo was awake. He looked tired, but there was a small smile on his face.

“How long have you been listening?” Phil asked, taking the wet cloth away.

Ranboo shrugged. “Just that last bit.” He tried to sit up and winced.

Techno went to put his book away. “How do you feel?” he asked, taking the glasses off.

“Like shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’ve got a headache, my throat burns, and my chest feels like it was ripped apart. Oh, and my back aches.”

Phil dipped the cloth back into the water and laid it on his head. “That’s to be expected. Would you like some water?” When Ranboo nodded he helped him sit up. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Techno looked at Ranboo before digging through a chest and pulling out a baked potato. “Hungry?” he asked, offering it.

Ranboo nodded grabbed it, eating quickly. Phil returned and gently took the potato away, handing him the water. “Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said, smiling.

He started to drink and winced as it burned a little again, but kept drinking. When he was done he went back to eating the potato.

Techno and Phil pulled out their own food and started to eat with him. When they were all done, they sat back with Ranboo.

“Feeling better?” Phil asked. When Ranboo nodded he smiled. “Good. Can I change your bandages before you go back to sleep?”

He nodded again and laid down. Phil set to work with changing the bandages quickly. Afterwards, he saw that Ranboo was back asleep.

“We’ll have to remind him about this later,” Techno said after a while. “And I don’t think he’ll be happy about it.”

Phil sighed. “I know, but he might thank us later. At least he’s safe.”

Techno nodded and started to walk downstairs. “At least he’s safe...”

Phil watched him go before turning to the sleeping Ranboo. ‘He’ll be okay,’ he thought. Who the ‘he’, he didn’t know.

~~~

THIS GOT SO LONG IM SO SORRY!!

I hope you enjoyed, please forgive me if things are wrong! I hoped you liked it!!

[iturbide]

today was a wash have a chunk of bad end au vent writing

The first thing Claude became aware of -- besides pain, but he didn’t want to focus on that any more than he had to -- was a steady, rhythmic swaying, something he could feel in his bones as he lay still in the darkness.  Next came sounds, drawing his attention one by one: the creak of shifting boards, the scrape of metal across metal, the subtle clink of glass muffled by wool padding.  Then the smell of the sea, the tang of salt at the back of his throat edging out the metallic bite of blood (if only for a moment, but he’d take what he could get)...

He knew where he was before he opened his eyes: an Almyran ship at sea, tucked away in the infirmary belowdecks.  But the confirmation was still nice, and he spent an extra moment or two watching the brass lamp sway on its hook, the dim ring of light it cast rocking back and forth as the ship cut through the waves and illuminating shelves of tinctures and compounded remedies, copper instruments cleaned and secured in their cases, berths and braced cots in neat rows for the medics to tend.  An alarming number of them were full from what he could see, sporting burns and dark blisters from toxic magic along with the more commonplace bindings and slings for arrow wounds and slashes...though he noted wryly that his own bunk was directly beside the doorway: the immediate access by the medics coming through at both the start and end of their rounds said a lot more than he cared for about his injuries.  The cot on the opposite side was occupied, too, and he waited patiently for the swaying light to sweep across it, curious who else was in sorry enough shape to warrant such special treatment--

A few locks of pink hair gleamed at the edge of the wandering glow, and Claude jerked upright -- only to immediately regret it, slumping back down and reminding himself to breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth, focusing on keeping the rhythm steady rather than on the pain burning through his chest and threatening to steal his consciousness again.  It took a while...but eventually the agony subsided to a manageable ache, pulsing in time with his heart; even then, he kept still for an extra minute before trying to open his eyes, confirming that the light wasn’t spinning any more than it should be before looking back across the aisle. 

“Hilda?” he whispered.  “You awake?”

She stirred slightly, and he stretched his arm across the divide between them, cursing silently when his reach fell far short.  “Don’t try to move,” he rasped.  “I made that mistake already.  Don’t be like me.”

He swore he heard a reedy laugh as she turned her head toward him...and in another moment, her hand drifted out to touch his, their fingers twining weakly as they both put what little strength they had into holding on.  “You made it,” she breathed. 

He mustered up a grin, hoping she could see it in such weak light.  “So did you.”  He’d been hopeful, even when he fell, that she’d get out...but he could remember, hazily, the sound of her shouting, the weight of her body over his before everything blurred and faded out; he could feel her hand shaking, and squeezed her fingers as best he could.  “...why didn’t you retreat?  I thought we agreed, if something went wrong, you’d get out of there in one piece…”

“I couldn’t leave you like that,” she mumbled.  “You were counting on me.  I wasn’t...it would’ve let you down, if I left.”

“No it wouldn’t.”  From his place at the pier, he’d watched the battle, keeping an eye out for the classmates who’d come to make the final stand with him: he’d seen Petra batter Ignatz until he couldn’t hold his blade anymore, and felt a rush of relief when she hesitated before dealing a killing blow, giving him just enough time to retreat; he’d watched as Lysithea took aim at the Empress herself, only to be blindsided by Hubert’s magic, and when he saw the mage take Edelgard’s hand he’d felt the strangest jumble of sorrow and solace, knowing she would live on but equally sure that Fódlan would soon become a bleaker place for those that survived to see it.  “I was counting on you to get out of there in one piece.  I...you weren’t supposed to die in a fight we couldn’t win.”

“...did you know we couldn’t win it?” she asked. 

“...I’d hoped we could,” he sighed, feeling her trembling grip tighten.  “But I knew it was a long shot.  It’s why I told you all to retreat if things got out of hand.  But...it’s why I pulled out all the stops, too, to try and even the odds.  Requesting support from Almyra, calling in old friends from Garreg Mach...it’s why I asked you to come.  Didn’t really think you’d go for it, when I did.”

“Were you disappointed I didn’t send my brother instead?” she teased. 

“No,” he replied, tightening his grip on her fingers.  He didn’t even need to think about that.  “Having you there...that’s what made me think we might be able to pull it off.  But...it wasn’t enough.  All that planning, all the preparations...I let you down--”

He thought he heard her huff as she squeezed his fingers.  “Hardly.  You tried: you kept us out of the war for five whole years, and gave the Empire a fight they weren’t expecting when they finally came.  Anybody who’s let down by that should try doing it themselves, see if they can do better.”

Claude immediately thought of Lorenz and blew out a thin sigh.  “Guess we’ll see how that goes, huh?  Hopefully he won’t run it into the ground.” 

“I give him a week.”  

Chuckling to himself, he glanced over and saw her smiling back.  They’d made it out -- only barely, but still (and he tightened his grip, just a bit, reassuring himself that she was really there, warm, alive…

“Oh, well!  Look who’s back among the living.”

Claude blinked, tilting his head back at the man standing in the aisle between them.  “Nader?  ...please tell me you’re not helping the medics.”

“Of course not,” the man huffed, crossing his arms.  “I just came to make sure you were still breathing.  Been a day or so since we got a word out of you, I was starting to worry about what I’d have to tell your parents when we make landfall.”

...he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.  But near-death was also not an eventuality he’d planned for, when war was normally a matter of kill or be killed.  “Please don’t tell my parents I almost died.”

Nader snorted.  “They’re going to find out one way or another.  Would you rather it be when they see you in that sorry state?”

“No,” Claude groaned.  Not that he could keep it from them that long, given that they were bound to ask why he didn’t come along when the general flew back to the capital to make his report.  “Can you at least not make it sound too bad?  You know how they get when they think I’m dying.”

“Last time I checked in the medics still thought you were,” Nader pointed out. 

“It takes more than that to kill me,” he grinned.  Maybe not much more, but he wisely kept that to himself. 

The general sighed, but apparently decided to give up on arguing further.  “Yeah, well, let’s try to avoid finding out what else it would take.  Stay put, kiddo, I’ll round up a medic and be back in two flaps of a wyvern’s wing.”

“Not like I could go anywhere,” Claude called after him, relaxing into his berth and glancing over at Hilda...to find her squinting at him.  “What?  I couldn’t.  Not without regretting it.”

“I don’t even know what you two were saying,” she pointed out. 

...he hadn’t even registered that they’d been going at it in Almyran.  “Nothing to worry about,” he reassured her.  “They’ll have us back on the mend in no time.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least,” she chuckled.  “Holst would never forgive me if I didn’t make it back.”

Only when he felt her grip tighten on his hand did he realize he was shaking.  The Empire had every reason to think both of them died at Derdriu -- which meant Hilda couldn’t go back.  For Claude, it was only ever a matter of not seeing the Alliance again; for her...she couldn’t go home.  “Do you think you’ll regret it?” he whispered.  “Fighting for me?  Not getting out while you had the chance?”

He could barely muster up the nerve to look at her.  But when he did, she was smiling at him through the wan light.  “It was worth it.”

Even he wasn’t certain of that anymore.  “How can you be sure?”

“Because it was for you.”

His eyes stung, and blinking only made his vision blur.  “Would you mind sticking with me for a while longer, then?”

“Do you even need to ask?” she giggled.  “You just say the word, and I’ll be there.”

Drawing in a slow, unsteady breath, he squeezed her fingers as best he could.  “Thanks, Hilda.  For everything.”  

As the ship’s medics came marching in and finally shooed their hands apart, Claude closed his eyes.  His goal was even further away now than it had been when he first set foot in Fódlan, and he doubted it would get any closer while Edelgard held power.  But he could still plan.  He could still prepare.  And when the day finally arrived when it came back in sight, he would be ready. 

He was still alive.  And so long as he lived, he’d work to make his dream real.

[shinycorvidae]

How Vic and Hiro Ended Up Sharing a Brain Tapeworm

(cowritten with @smilepal)

Part 6 of 6: In Which We Piss Off Our Pseudo-Father Figures

"Please proceed to insert the jack below the ear, although not too deep"

"... auxiliary neurosockets..."

"If I hit a vein by mistake..."

"...end up like Deshawn...fucking try me..."

"I think I have it."

"V! We're at viks, just..."

"... cannot...need...rest"

"Misty!"

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

(I got stuck writing this for two weeks and I want to get to the rest of the story SO HERE HAVE SOME BULLET POINTS ✌️)

Vik taking V from Hiro's arms. He moves right into surgery and leaves a blood soaked Hiro to pace and listen to Delamain tell Vik that she’s going to die. Misty tries to convince him to go wash off the blood he’s covered in. Like hell is he leaving till Vs stable. She instead sits him down within eyesight of V and wraps up his torn palm. It’s cyberware, the best she can do is stop the leaking.

Hiro uses his anti-anxiety medication for the first time since he was a teenager. He doesn’t have time for panic attacks, he needs to be sharp, he’s got multiple people to protect.

Vik finally manages to stabilize V. He forces Hiro out of the clinic, V will be fine tonight, he needs to go home.

Hiro goes home to an empty, silent apartment. Watches V’s blood wash down the shower drain.

He doesn't sleep that night.

Hiro returns the next morning with three coffees. He’s not optimistic enough to bring one for Takemura or V.

Not that he’d bring one for the corpo anyway.

Vik is tired. There are dark circles under his eyes and he's slumped over on his stool staring into the distance. Hiro’s gut sinks, and he reflexively checks that V’s still breathing.

That’s Vik’s bad news face.

Hiro hands Vik the coffee and they sit in silence for a while. Watching V breathe.

Vik puts down his coffee and sighs.

“Do you want the good or the bad first?”

“Just tell me Vik”

“She’s stable. I removed the bullet from her head and she’ll recover fully from the wound. She’ll have a nasty scar and nothing else.”

“...but?”

“It’s hard to explain kid.”

“Vik.”

“The item V and Jackie were sent to filch? It’s a biochip, a Relic. Arasakas “upload a dead person” magic trick. But this one’s different, a prototype. Somehow it got slotted into Vs head.”

“What? Why would she do that? That...that makes no sense. Vic’s an idiot sometimes but...she wouldn’t do that.”

“Might not have been a willing choice kid. Might have been a desperate action. Maybe she was just reckless. I don’t know. Doesn’t change the end result. There’s a biochip in her head and I can’t get it out without killing her.”

“What? You can’t just unslot it?”

“When Deshawn shot her, she was dead. Just for a minute, maybe less. Then the nanites in the chip booted up and brought her back. That Relic is the only reason she’s breathing on that bed right now.”

“Fuck. Fuck, she...never mind, keep going Vik. Tell me all of it.”

“There’s only bad news left Hiro.”

“Keep going. Please.”

“...alright. That reboot, the bullet to the head? It activated the construct on the biochip. The virtual psyche of the person written on that chip. Johnny Silverhand.”

“...the rocker?”

“The terrorist more like. He’s...he’s overwriting V. He’s-It’s going to scoop out everything that makes her V and replace it with Silverhand. She has a couple weeks before there's nothing of her left, maybe a month at best.”

“How do we fix it?”

“There’s...-kid there’s nothing I can fix. I can slow it down a little with some medication, keep her a little more comfortable. But I-I can't fix this.”

The floor drops out from under him. No. Not now. She lived, she survived a bullet to the fucking head. A little piece of tech isn’t going to-

Fuck. FUck. Not another one, please not both of them, he cant-

And V. V who hates any loss of control, who’s so sure of who she is. Getting erased...he can’t think of a worst fear for her. A worse torture.

He leans against the counter heavily, the only thing supporting his weight. He can’t even look at her. He failed her. HE failed them both.

Vik's hand falls on his back. He can barely feel it. Barely hear him talk.

“I tried kid. I worked through every possible solution. Nothing works. The closest I got was splitting the engram but its not going to-”

Hiro will take anything. Any deal, any bargain to keep her here.

“Split it. How would you split it.”

Vik just looks at him. Keeps his mouth shut for a beat.

“Hiro-”

“NO! Vik, I refuse to- we won't lose her. We can’t, I can’t-. You aren't going to hold anything back from me, I swear-”

“Fine! Fine. If you split the engram, you might, MIGHT alleviate the load on Vic’s brain enough that she can fight off the engram, partially. Enough so she keeps control. It's a slim chance. More likely it will just buy her time, a couple months, and doom the second host to the same fate. And it might just outright kill her and the second host. I'm not going to take someone off the street and subject them to that. And I don't know anyone who'd do it willingly.”

“...I will. Use me. I’ll be the second host.”

“No.”

Viktor’s no is immediate. He's both horrified and shocked that Hiro would even offer. He watched him fight to survive as a teenager. To see him gamble his life on the slight chance to save Vic...

He won’t. He practically raised the kid, he’s not going to kill him on his own operating table.

Hiro gets right in his face, desperate and angry.

“We have a chance Vik! You're just too scared to take it!”

“It’s a fool’s chance! At best you buy her a couple months-”

“You said there's a chance it’d cure her completely.”

“A tiny one! It'd be like betting on a five year old in a one-on-one with Razor Hughes. Its suicide.”

“If V’s that five year old I’m taking that god damned bet.”

Vik just stares at him. He’s completely serious. He knew Jackie's death was affecting him, but he hadn't realized he'd lost his mind.

“Hiro-”

“I am BEGGING you Vik. I will get on my knees if that makes a difference, PLEASE. If you have an ounce of respect for me you'll do this, its my body, my fucking choice”

Hiro ups the ante at the sliver of weakness of resignation in Vik's face. He’s terrified and it’s making him desperate, making him mad.

“If you don't I will never forgive you, I fucking swear. You will never see my face again. You can’t not give me this chance to save her,-”

Vik's face goes hard. Stony. If the kid is going to guilt him with that, fine. He's an adult and obviously he doesn't care anymore. Let him risk his own damn life.

And. Hiro’s desperate enough, Vik KNOWS, he just knows that Hiro won't give up. He’ll find a different ripperdoc, one willing to do it. And they’ll fuck it up. No one willing to do that would be good at their job. He has to do it. Or put Hiro at even greater risk.

A little part of Vik hates Hiro for it. For backing him into this awful corner. For forcing him to be complicit in Hiro's death. In V’s.

“Alright. Alright. Go change into one of the scrubs, the sooner we do this, the better. For you and for V”

“Thank you-”

“DO NOT thank me for this Hiro. Do not. I don’t want to do this. It’s wrong and I’m pretty sure V would-”

“V lost the right to an opinion when she slotted this thing in her fucking skull in the first place.”

Vik performs the surgery. They both live. He makes sure Hiro is comfortable and asleep before opening up the scans of their brains. Of the Relic, still nestled in Vs head untouched. His stomach drops.

His prediction was mostly right. V isn't cured. Hiro bought her a couple more months, maybe 2 or 3. He's only delayed her death. Stretched out how long it will take Silverhand to devour her. Hiro has connected himself to her and the Relic but in a stroke of luck not her death. The relic isn't trying to scoop him out, but it will put stress on his synapses. He’ll have migraines, nausea, even possible seizures at the end of V’s life but when her final thread of self snaps, the bridge between their brains will collapse. He may be left with some permanent effects but he’ll live. Thank god he’ll live. He mourns for V but selfishly, awfully he's so grateful Hiro lived and will live. He will never say it out loud but he'd sacrifice V, a good friend, if it meant Hiro could live.

Hiro wakes up the next day. He refuses to believe Vik's final diagnosis. He’s bought V time, they’ll find some way to fix this.

He spends the week at Vik's, recovering and waiting for her to wake up. He tries to help around the clinic, but his relationship with Vik has been severely strained. Any conversation is awkward and stilted.

V wakes occasionally, short periods of not full awareness. Murmuring words, clenching her fists, eyes barely opening.

The first time she does it, Hiro's sitting right next to her bed, fiddling with the dismantled pieces of a shotgun to keep busy. He happens to look to his left. He’s shocked by the sight of V’s yellow brown eyes, staring at him lazy and warm.

“Hiro...”

“Hey V. Go back to sleep. It's too soon for you to be waking up.”

“K. G’night.”

A surge of deep want goes through Hiro as he pushes Vs hair back. He wants her.

Ohhhhh fuuuuuck he wants her. Not just as a friend. Or a roommate. Or a want for her to be safe. Oh no. oh nooooooo.

Apparently he’s not gay??? At least not completely. MAybe it's just men AND V. like an exception? Fuck this is bad. This is bad AND weird.

But he definitely wants V in his bed. He wants to know what her nails feel like on his back, her teeth on his lip. The playful look in her warm eyes as she drags her hand down his chest-

NOPE. NO. He’s not doing this right now. V is sick, V is DYING, he’s not- nope we aren't thinking about that.

It takes a couple hours for his ears to stop being bright red.

V wakes up late on the 6th day, Vik is sitting right there. Waiting for her to wake up.

V takes the news quietly. She's tired and obviously weak but her voice only wavers a little. She only begs Vik for a solution once, when she learns she’ll lose everything she is. She doesn't tear up or panic but examines every option she has. Looking for a way out. She can break down when she’s alone. Vik looks like he’s struggling with this enough. He doesn’t need to see her pain and fear too.

Hiro watches the whole thing from across the clinic. In a dark enough corner that V wouldn't immediately notice him. He watches her push down her feelings. Comforting Vik about her own fate for fucks sake.

He shouldn’t be here. Now that she’s lucid she probably hates him for not coming with them. He shouldn't creepily watch her be vulnerable without her consent. But he can't manage to drag himself away either.

Vik shakily wipes his face and delivers the final blow

"Hiro bought you sometime so you have a couple months instead of weeks. But you’re still dying V-"

"Wait Hiro? What did he do? Where is he?"

Fuck. Well now he really can't just sulk in the corner anymore. He comes out, walking up to her bed silently. He has no clue what to say to her.

V doesn't leave him drowning for long. She gives him a small smile, tired and pained but happy to see him anyway.

"It only took me dying to get you to learn to be sneaky, huh?"

A small choked laugh, suspiciously wet, escapes him. Only she would pull a laugh out of him right now, the brat.

Misty helps Hiro move her to a wheel chair so he can bring her home. Vik explains the meds to him too. He can tell her later. When she's not fast asleep in a wheelchair.

She's snoring and her hair is stuck around the handle. She's an idiot. She’s adorable.

Fuck.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Sorry I had to send this as an ask stupid tumblr wouldn’t let me just copy and paste it in messages. But please let me know what you think!

Asylum Hearts

Xemnas “Superior of The In-Between”

Occupation: Cult Leader/Serial Killer

Driven by a murderous desire to collect hearts to complete what he, and his father, called ‘Kingdom Hearts’. Kingdom Hearts was thought by many to be just a long ago creation myth that is the basis behind Xemnas’, and ultimately his father Xehanort’s, preachings. Xemnas inherited the Organization from his father upon his ‘death’. (His twin brother Ansem having been chosen to Seek.)

Before being apprehended, Xemnas and his followers were killing their victims, literally ripping their hearts out, and collecting said hearts to sacrifice them to Kingdom Hearts. The thing no one saw coming is that the ritual they had started to conduct, before being busted, had actually started to work. A fact no one had caught onto except for Xemnas, Xigbar, and Saïx. Who now knew what it would really take for them to succeed. He had more then enough hearts in storage to try again, he had made sure of this, just in case something like what had happened actually transpired. All he had to do now was to orchestrate an escape from this infernal abyss of insanity called Arkham Asylum. The only up side to any of this was at least he had something pretty to keep his attention among the thought muddling drugs they had already begun to pump into him.

Xemnas’ head lolled to the side as his gaze eventually fell upon his intriguing new neighbor. “Pretty little doll.” He practically purred making sure he was loud enough for Nightshade to hear. His signature smirk widen as he saw her shoulders tense from hearing his new pet name for her. The little witch had ensnared his mind the moment their eyes had met in admissions. She would be most definitely useful in resurrecting his father for sure, but right now the lust in his blood coupled with the drugs made it incredibly difficult to think of anything else but her or more specifically the thought of what she’d look like underneath him while writhing and clinging to him in ecstasy. His brain may have started to grow foggy, but he was definitely lucid enough to flirt.

“That’s not my name.” She quietly answered as she looked over her shoulder to see his half drugged state.

A low laugh rumbled through his chest before answering “Oh yes of course, forgive me. My mistake. My GORGEOUS little doll.” He said making sure to lay heavy emphasis on gorgeous, but even heavier emphasis on ‘My’ making sure to capture her gaze. Another drugged laugh bubbled out of him as she shivered from the effect he was having on her.

“I’m not your anything.” She spat. “And my name is Nightshade get it right.”

A full chested laugh broke from him at her little display of ferocity. “Not yet maybe.” He said standing to face her cell a large hand coming to lay against the glass that separated him from freedom. “But do believe me, dearheart.” He purred seductively. “I’ll have you screaming for me to finally bring you the release you’ve only ever dreamed of, and one only I can provide, Nightshade.” The hand against the glass slowly lowering to come to palm the clothed hardening length in his pants. “Oh do you not see what it is that you do to me, My Doll?” His breath hitched as lust blown amber eyes met glassy wide smoky blue. “Oh my Witch.” A full throated groan left Xemnas’s throat as he lowered his pants just far enough for his considerable length to spring free from its confines. “What spell do you have me under?” He continued as he started to pump himself.

“You sure it’s not the meds making you horny?” Nightshade finally managed to find her voice, but couldn’t find it in herself to look away. He said she was gorgeous, but Gods damned he was the gorgeous one. Built like a brick house carved from golden brown marble, the face of a fallen angel, and hung like a fucking horse how the fuck was she supposed to look away and ignore that? To make matters worse he was getting exactly what he wanted. To turn her into a wet moaning mess without even having to touch her.

Opening his eyes in the midst of his haze of pleasure, his smirk grew predatory at the sight of her thighs clenching together accompanying the bright flush on her cheeks and chest. “Hmmmm” a hum rumbled through his chest. “I know for damn sure I don’t get this fucking hard for anyone else in this hell hole.” He panted. “Oh what I wouldn’t give to have your pretty little mouth sucking me off right now.” Xemnas looked over to her again, eyes boring deep into hers as she clenched her thighs tighter, letting out a low whimper. “And I bet you wish I was over there to throw you onto that Goddamned bed, rip your clothes off, bury this fat cock into that tight little pussy, and pound into you till you can’t fucking form a thought that doesn’t involve me.” He practically growled as he pumped himself at a furious pace, his peak quickly approaching. “Come now dearheart, show me what you so desperately wanted to touch right now.” He groaned. “Show me how fucking soaked you are for me.”

It was Nightshade’s turn to groan as the very last piece of her self control flew out the window, and her legs slowly slid apart. Her hips lifted slightly into the air to slide her pants and panties off her body. The blush on her ghostly pale skin impossibly deepening as she opened her legs to reveal her drenched core to Xemnas’s hungry eyes. “I can’t believe I’m about to fucking do this, and you.” She said aloud directing a heated gaze upon the silver haired man jacking off in front of her. “You are so beyond Goddamned lucky that we’re the only two housed in this wing at the moment.”

Her legs opening wider, allowing for Xemnas a better view of both her and her cunt, as one hand captured a nipple in between her fingers, and the other hand shot down to her soaking wet folds. A, louder than she wanted, moan graced his ears as her fingers played herself like a beautiful instrument, and making his hips buck wildly into his own hand. “Fuck! I can hear how fucking wet you are from here. Fuck woman.” He whined. “I’m fucking close.”

Nightshade wasn’t far off as she alternated between playing with her clit to shoving three fingers knuckles deep into her own cunt. The spring in her abdomen coiling tighter and tighter as she watched him become more and more undone. Their moans mingling together as she watched him jack off to the sight of her adding a fourth finger to the assault on her pussy, her head thrown back as her fingers stretched herself out. Upon opening them, her eyes met his golden ones, in that moment their erratic hips began thrusting in the air at the same time.

“Cum with me.” He whispered loud enough for her to hear across the hall, and that’s what broke the dam. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her entire back arched off the bed as her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami, and her cries becoming soft whimpers. The last thing that came to Xemnas’s mind before his own earth shattering release, was just how unbelievably exquisite she looked in the throws of a powerful orgasm. How exquisite she was period. His own release shook him as he painted the glass separating them with his thick cum. “Mine.” He growled as his half lidded amber eyes met her hazy pale blue.

I love it! You certainly have a talent for writing!