#surely this is a surefire plan and nothing will stifle this

[madaramee]

-- Hoists up @tealtres and takes her away from @desuetmort.

"Since no one's gonna do it, might as well. Come on kid, that's enough bad words for one day."

See that, @mikroteros? Not complex.

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 12)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 12) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 1,609 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Chap 11 || Chap 13 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

You were accosted the moment you walked through the bunker door. Castiel had dropped you off down the street per your request and you had walked the remainder of the way. The bright side of him driving you was that you now knew the make of his car and the license plate. Although, it could have simply just been a rental, you still had some idea of what to look out for.

“What the fuck?” Dean demanded as you descended the stairs.

“I’m fine,” you sighed, carrying the bag of your dirty clothes and the swimsuit that Castiel insisted you take with you.

“I can see that. But it doesn’t do a damn thing about answering my question, does it?”

Placing the bag down on the table, you leveled them both with a hard stare. “He took me from the bar.”

“Gathered that much,” Dean quipped.

“If you’re gonna be a jackass—”

“We were – are – worried, Y/N,” Sam interjected. “It scared the hell out of us.”

Breathing in deep you tried to calm yourself again. This was not your fault and it was so hard to separate yourself from the blame since you had not been acting smart.

“I needed to pee. Like I told you, Sam, before you went to check on the food. So, I tried to. The line was long, and I don’t know! I just needed to go, and I tried to get to the men’s room and ended up outside. And I went out there in the sticks. But then Castiel was there when I was heading back in. He was accusing me of avoiding him and it was scary.”

“I tried to bypass him by brushing him off but then he said he had men inside. He was really, really fucking mad you guys ‘let’ – insert finger motion, illustrating to them your disdain for his verbiage – “Me get so drunk. Said it wasn’t keeping in good health or something. I didn’t want him to hurt you for some imagined slight – and he did threaten to. So, I agreed to go.”

“I woke up next to him, fully clothed. He made me breakfast. We went on the speed boat provided by the rental, which you know, was fun.” Dean scoffed and you finished harshly, “He fished, cooked the fish for dinner, we ate, you called.”

You fell silent, waiting for them to react.

Dean looked at Sam and said, “We can’t go anywhere.” His attention was back on you. “You’re not safe anywhere. How the hell does he know? Every time?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. I asked.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t believe he wants to harm me. Not after this.”

Dean barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh, okay. That helps the situation. He just wants to possess you like one of his artifacts and play psychotic games and kill people!”

What he said hit hard and you found it hard to stifle your emotion.

Stepping towards you, Dean told you firmly, “He is unstable, Y/N. We all know this. he is a cold-blooded killer. And to me it sounds like you’re defending him? And saying it was fun?”

“I wasn’t defending him! And it was, despite the circumstance!”

“Just downplaying the severity of the situation then.”

You were silent.

Sam asked, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

Throwing him an annoyed look, you snipped, “I didn’t exactly have my phone. As you know.”

“Well,” Dean said. “If you were as safe as you say you were, why wouldn’t he let you let us know? And if that was all a ruse, why didn’t you fight back?”

“And possibly get killed, Dean? I didn’t know what he was going to do during all of it!” you yelled, finally losing your temper.

Dean’s face fell, anger melting.

“Last time, he had a bunch of people around and I was more concerned about them than myself! This time… it was just me.” You threw your hands out by your sides helplessly. “Just me! That is what I was focusing on. Especially at some lake where he could easily dispose of me if he had the desire to do so! Kill me, weight me down, and toss me in the middle in the dead of night! So, no. I didn’t actively fight back. I went with the flow. But I was sure as hell ready to fight if I needed to.”

Chest heaving from your adrenaline, you stared at the pair of them. Your fear was laid out on the table.

Sam swallowed, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. ‘Last time’?”

Dean had not seemed to catch that but now his brows were furrowed, looking at you accusingly.

Shit.

“I…I met him for a concert. In Kansas City. And nothing happened. He was normal. And that’s what’s so scary. I was waiting for him to snap at any momenta and blow up the theater or just kill me. But he just wanted a night out with me.”

“So… those back to back movies you saw in Kansas City…?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Dean swore and you said defensively, “I thought appeasing him might chill him out a bit!”

“Cause that usually works with stalkers!” Dean retorted.

“Dean, I did what I thought was best!”

“Well you were flat out wrong, Y/N!”

“I’m with Dean, Y/N. That was stupid,” Sam chimed in. You gave him an incredulous look and he argued in turn, “Don’t give me that look. We are a team. And keeping things like this from each other is a surefire way to fail. Especially in dangerous situations like this. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for some cause without us at your back!”

You scoffed loudly, “Really? You’re going to lecture me about personal sacrifices? Didn’t you two die all the while... never mind. Forget this. I’m tired!”

You snatched up the bag and moved around the table to go to your room.

Sam reached out and grasped your arm, “Y/N, this isn’t done—”

Yanking away from him, you spat, “For now it is! Leave me alone. Both of you.”

You did not let them utter another word before storming off, leaving them behind you.

<> <> <>

It took until late the next morning for them to corner you in the kitchen as you were trying to sneak some food for yourself. Your plan had been to continue hiding in your room, simmering in your anger. But they were not going to have it.

Sitting at the table across from them, Dean started, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to what you were trying to say. But damnit, Y/N. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I already told you why.” Catching the glint of annoyance in his eyes, you added, “Look, if he hadn’t of cornered me like that, I wouldn’t have met him. I’d been putting him off for weeks. He left me some airline tickets to Hawaii – and he went by himself apparently, thinking I would actually show up and was extremely upset I hadn’t – and he’s invited me to dinner. Ever since that night when I blew up on him. I was actively avoiding him, he was right.”

“I know it was stupid, but I really didn’t have a choice. And I know that this has got to stop. The good thing is that he can’t get inside here. And he shouldn’t because of all the shit that’s in here. I can’t imagine what a person like him would do with it.”

You stalled, a thought coming to you then.

Of course.

Sam noticed, “What?”

“That’s it…” you said quietly before repeating it more loudly. “That’s it. We have a couple bone knives, don’t we?”

“Yeah. They’re locked up,” Sam answered. “Why?”

You were gaining confidence, excitement brewing at the possibility of solving this whole mess. “I need to give him one of them.”

“What? Why?” Dean demanded.

“Look, he told me about his parents. How they were killed and what got him into this business that he does in the first place. They were killed over a bone knife his father had found at a pawn shop. He’s been searching for one for a long time. It is really important to him.”

“Y/N, I don’t know if it’s smart to hand over a supernatural artifact like that to him. I mean, the Men of Letters have this type of stuff in bunkers for a reason.”

“I could get him to leave me alone if I give it to him though, Dean.”

Sam sighed, “I don’t think a singular item is going to deter him from his obsession with you, Y/N.”

Sighing, you argued, “But if I give it to him and make it clear it is a parting gift, this could help me. Help us, really. It could end this whole nightmare.” They still looked uneasy and you added forcibly, “Please. You didn’t hear the way he talked about it, the tone of his voice. It is truly something important to him. And we aren’t even using them anyway.”

Dean and Sam were both quiet, contemplating what you said as you impatiently waited for them to give you their answer.

“Fine... if you really think it could work,” Dean relented.

“I don’t know for sure, but it is worth a shot.”

Pulling out your phone, you texted Castiel asking for a meet up, insisting it not be a riddle. It was the first time you had ever texted him, so you could only imagine his elation of you requesting to see him. You only hoped he would be able to control himself when he realized what the meet up was for.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[drones-of-innocence]

Sweater Weather

O~o~O

Summary:  On a cold winter's night, when Luigi can't sleep, Mario's answer involves sweaters and quilts. Inspired by _kairy_draws_'s adorable sweaters that she drew for the brothers!

Just a little drabble I wrote instead of doing homework

Links to other platforms: AO3; FFN.net; Wattpad

Here is _kairy_draws_’s Instagram!

O~o~O

There was a blackout.

Most of Toad Town was in the dark, or at least it would have been, if the Mario brothers hadn’t gone around to every door to hand out and light candles to the citizens. They made sure every house had plenty of light before they would move on. After leaving the final house, satisfied that the Toads would all have light and stay warm through the cold winter night, they finally turned to go back to their own house.

The heater was broken. Snow was beginning to fall. They didn’t have many candles left for themselves, but Mario used his Firebrand to light up the fireplace. They were too tired to worry about being very cold, or, more precisely, Luigi being cold. Mario didn’t get cold.

It was late. Both brothers wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. Luigi trudged off to his room with the sleepy promise of tinkering with the electricity down in town with his Thunderhand, and Mario mumbled something about building space heaters to distribute around. They just had to hope the castle would be okay without them until morning.

Then, they went to sleep. At least, they would have liked to. Not even five minutes later, the house was awake again with the sound of a vacuum cleaner.

“For the last time, there are no ghosts in the house!”

“But Mario!” Luigi wailed, trying to wrestle with the vacuum nozzle. Mario wouldn’t let go. “They’re in the curtains! And the rugs! They hide, it’s what they do!”

Mario yanked on the nozzle, but Luigi clung to it for dear life. “It’s two in the morning!” Mario protested. “Come on, it’s so late. You have to be tired. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Shaking his head furiously, Luigi threw his whole body into pulling, and both the brothers stumbled. “No! I can’t sleep now!”

“Mamma mia,” Mario sighed, and abruptly let go of the vacuum cleaner. Luigi flew back and fell on the floor with a yelp. “There are no ghosts. You know this! We checked last weekend.”

The only light in the room was the fireplace, crackling away. The nearest light was several meters away, down town. The house was apparently very cold. Mario rubbed his eyes and glanced between the fire, Luigi shuddering on the floor, and the dark hall that led to their bedrooms.

Tilting his head, Mario looked to the floor again. “Luigi.” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s not ghosts you’re afraid of, is it?”

Luigi blinked at him. His eyes darted all around the walls and the carpet before focusing on Mario again. Then, cradling the vacuum cleaner in his arms, he shook his head.

Mario’s expression softened. Stifling a yawn, he came to sit down on the carpet with Luigi. “Your nightlight.” he said. “It’s not working. So it’s dark in your room. Is that why you’re scared?”

Back in Brooklyn, there was plenty of light, even at night. The dark had never been a problem for Luigi until after they had come to the Mushroom Kingdom so long ago. The city may never sleep, but the Mushroom Kingdom certainly did.

After weeks of being unable to sleep, to where Luigi had started walking into walls because of how tired he was, Mario was determined to find out what was wrong. He tried everything. Fluffing the pillows every night, reading a bedtime story, making Luigi hot tea before bed, Mario tried every trick in the book.

He wasn’t sure how he put it together, exactly. But after listening to Luigi talk about the nightmares he had at night, and observing how he napped during the day just fine, Mario got gut feeling that told him the dark had something to do with it. So he went and found a nice little nightlight.

And it worked like a charm; Luigi hadn’t had any problems sleeping since that day. Until now, at last.

Tracing the patterns in the carpet with a finger, Luigi avoided his eyes and finally nodded.

The firewood sputtered, and Luigi jumped. Mario gave a tired smile. “I told you that you could use the candles. I can light them for you,” he started to make a move to get up, but Luigi grabbed his sleeve and shook his head. “What?” Mario stopped.

“Someone else might need the candles.” Luigi mumbled. He shivered so hard that his jaw clenched. “I don’t want to waste them.”

Mario just shook his head. He could argue, and tell Luigi that using the candles for himself wasn’t a waste at all. That was a surefire way to keep them bickering out in the living room for another hour before they would sleep. But it was two in the morning. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to go to bed. He could work on Luigi’s perception of wasting and using another day.

“Come here,” he peeled the vacuum cleaner from Luigi’s grasp and wrapped his shivering little brother in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold?”

Luigi didn’t answer except to hug back, which was enough. “Okay. How about this. I will get some blankets. You sit on the couch in front of the fire. We sleep out here tonight.” he let go after a moment, and stood up to head back to his room.

He heard Luigi get up as soon as he left. “We?” he called out tentatively.

Mario peeked from around the corner and pretended to roll his eyes. “Yes. We.” he answered.

The Firebrand was immensely useful for the dark. Mario summoned a handful of fire to light his way with one hand, while he rummaged around his room for blankets with the other. They didn’t actually have much in the way of blankets; the Mushroom Kingdom had nice weather year round, so they didn’t really need them. Even when it did get cold or hot, they had set up heating and cooling in all the houses in Toad Town.

He ended up finding a couple of sweaters. One was his, but he didn’t remember where he got it. Orange and red striped pattern, crocheted with a goomba in the middle. He smiled. The other was Luigi’s. It was so big that it seemed like more of a blanket than a sweater, with a blue plaid design and little pink hearts scattered about.

Just as he slid his sweater over his head, he heard Luigi sit down on the couch and let out a yawn from the living room. Mario shook his head and closed his bedroom door on the way out once he grabbed the quilts. He knew Luigi hated leaving doors open.

“Here,” he handed the blue plaid sweater to Luigi, and he saw the instant Luigi recognized it.

He ran a hand over the fabric. “Oh. I remember this,” he murmured, just as Mario set his green quilt beside him on the couch. He slid his arms in the sleeves, which were way too big, and made him look like he did when they were little. Mario couldn’t help but chuckle while he lay his own red quilt out on the floor in front of the couch.

After taking one pillow for himself and giving the rest to Luigi, Mario went to sit down on the end of the couch with a pillow in his lap. His body was practically a space heater. He planned on sitting there until Luigi was warm and could fall asleep before he would move to lay down on the floor. The quilts were gifts from Princess Peach, way back when they had first come to the Mushroom Kingdom and finally decided to stay. The sweaters, though, Mario couldn’t quite place where they had gotten them. They had been on so many adventures and met so many people, the sweaters could have come from anywhere.

Mario was too tired to think. He would ask Luigi about it later. “Cozy?” he looked down to Luigi, just as Luigi lay down with his head on the pillow. Luigi answered him with an affirmative noise. Even so, Mario reached down and touched Luigi’s quilt. His Firebrand heated up the heavy blanket with ease, and he hoped it would be enough to keep Luigi warm throughout the night.

He settled with his cheek resting in his palm, and closed his eyes. The fire danced about in the fireplace, casting soft orange light around the room. He listened to Luigi shift around until he was comfortable.

After a moment, Mario nearly nodded off. The sound of the fire, his brother’s breathing, the wind outside, were all soothing to him. They had plenty of work on their hands tomorrow, but for now, they could sleep.

“Mario?” he vaguely heard Luigi say.

He processed that it was his name being called. He didn’t want to open his eyes. “Hmm?”

There was one more shift next to him on the couch. Luigi curling up under his quilt. He felt the weight of Luigi’s head finally relax on his lap. “Thank you.” he said, in a small voice.

Mario tried to make some sort of noise in response, but he was too tired to focus on a coherent reply. He hoped Luigi understood. His breathing lengthened. The world faded out.

Outside, snow blanketed the town, inch by inch. The lake was freezing over. Winter had begun, and two brothers slumbered in their house, up on the little hill overlooking Toad Town. The frozen kingdom awaited them in the morning. But for now, at least, they were warm and cozy, dreaming sweet dreams about blankets and old sweaters.

O~o~O

“Hmm, maybe they’re not here?”

“Well, look. There’s a fire going. Surely they’re inside. It is late; perhaps they’re just sleeping.” Peach whispered.

While Daisy went to peek through the windows, Peach shuddered and rubbed her eyes. She wished she was sleeping in her warm bed. But after hearing about the blackout and how the brothers had gone around town to give out candles, she was just consumed with worry for them. Daisy was spending a few days at the castle anyway. So Peach asked for her to come along.

Of course, Daisy was as eager to see them as she was, especially Luigi. The same way Peach was always eager to see Mario.

She came despite the late hour because she knew how cold it would be getting. She could use her magic to keep their house warm for them until they got the heater working again. There was no telling how long the blackout would be.

“Hey, check this out.” Daisy bent down and lifted the welcome mat in front of the door. “Luigi showed me where they keep an extra key.” she grinned as she lifted a small key up into the light for Peach to see.

Clasping her hands together, Peach smiled. “Oh! How clever! I never would have thought to look there.” she said. “They must have learned that trick in Brooklyn.”

Daisy shrugged. “I guess so. Anyway, let’s get inside; I’m freezing.” she went to unlock the door, and Peach noticed her shivering as well.

It took a moment, fumbling with the key, before Daisy managed to get the door open. What they saw had them both cover their mouths, freezing in the doorway.

The brothers were fast asleep in the living room. Mario had somehow dozed off while sitting on the couch, with Luigi’s head resting on a pillow in his lap. It was common knowledge that Luigi could sleep like a log, but Mario was a light sleeper. Startling him could be dangerous if he thought someone was breaking in. Daisy and Peach signalled for each other to stay quiet while stifling giggles.

Peach went to shut the door before the chill could rush in and wake anyone up. Daisy went to go look at the snoozing brothers, trying as hard as she could to not laugh. It was understandable; they were so used to seeing the brothers on high alert, ready for action. To see them sleeping was a rare, but nice change. They hardly ever got a chance to relax.

Once the door was locked, Peach let out a deep breath and raised her arms to use her magic. The house was warm again. She knew Mario would have been fine; his Firebrand gave him a unique tolerance to the cold. But poor Luigi didn’t get the same gift from his Thunderhand. Perhaps that was why Mario was sleeping there with Luigi; to keep him warm.

She was touched. The nature of the brother’s relationship was always a privilege to witness; Daisy was the closest thing Peach had to a sibling, and she was sure the reverse was true as well. So they always loved to see the way Mario and Luigi acted around one another.

“I love their sweaters,” Daisy whispered, reaching over the back of the couch to touch Luigi’s sleeve.

Peach smiled and nodded. “I know. They look so comfy,” she kept her tone low and careful, as she went to stand in front of Mario. She couldn’t touch him; he would wake up.

But they just looked so cozy sleeping there. Peach got an idea, and shared a playful look with Daisy. “Oh, it’s so dark and cold outside, Daisy. We can’t possibly trek all the way back to the castle in this weather,” she pretended to sigh.

Playing along, Daisy put a hand to her forehead. “You’re so right, Peach. I guess we don’t have a choice.” she came around in front of the couch. “We have to spend the night here.”

Their exaggerated tones worked. Mario stirred, and blinked blearily. “Wh…” he started to say. He must have been too tired to be alarmed. He shifted, but Luigi didn’t wake up. “What…”

“Oh, Mario, thank goodness!” Peach reached out and touched his cheek, and the gesture immediately had the intended effect. Mario jolted up, looking with wide eyes between the two of them. “It’s so very cold outside, I’m afraid we have to stay here with you two until morning!”

Mario didn’t even have time to say anything as Peach and Daisy moved to join the brothers on the couch. “Here, I’ll take this one off of your hands,” Daisy sat on the other end of the couch, and pulled on Luigi’s arm until he was laying against her instead. Luigi curled up a little bit, his hands disappearing in his sweater sleeves, but he didn’t wake up. Meanwhile, Peach went to take the vacated spot beside Mario.

His sweater was soft, and he was even warmer than she expected him to be. Their plan had worked flawlessly. Peach and Daisy shared smug grins before settling to go to sleep.

“This must be a dream…” Mario said to himself, and he had already started to nod off again. He adjusted his arms around Peach.

Luigi mumbled something into Daisy’s shoulder, and smiled in his sleep. Daisy giggled and held him close. The brothers were just too cute when they were sleepy.

“Hush, now. Sweet dreams, hon.” Daisy whispered.

Late night sweater cuddles were the perfect way to spend a blackout at the start of winter.

O~o~O

Thanks for reading!

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 26: Abraxas - Part 4

While ACHTUNG BABY does what it can to defend its master from the onslaught of fists and blows, Shizuka can’t help but feel a pain not only on her body, but within herself as well. 

“I can’t do this… I’m not strong enough… I’m not like them… I never will be…”

“Well, of course not. How could you be?”

In an office surrounded by bookshelves and starfish in display cases, a large man in a dark coat inspects the contents of an aquarium on his desk. His hat is pulled low over his brow, as he diligently takes notes. Behind him is a pale young girl, with dark hair, standing against the wall, with sunglasses positioned on her head. The office sways slightly, rocking gently to and fro.

“So you agree… I’m not strong enough.” the girl asks, staring at his back.

“That’s not what I said. I meant, of course you’re not like us. You’re your own person.”

“Yeah, maybe I am... but that doesn’t mean I’m good enough. Even if I’m my own person, it’s not like I’m really… a part of you all. We’re not really family…

“I know why I’m here, Jotaro. I’m not stupid. You took me out on this trip because you felt sorry for me. But it’s OK. I don’t feel sad anymore… I don’t feel anything.”

The man says nothing, taking his notes on a clipboard.

“I clung to Daddy and Mamma for everything. Everything. They were my foundation. Every person needs something to build themselves on. But mine was built on sand. I’ll never know who my real parents were, who my own family is. All I have is Mamma to cling on to. And when she’s gone, I’ll disappear completely. I’ll just be… empty.”

There is silence in the room for a while. Then, Jotaro calls out, “Shizuka, come over and look at this.”

Shizuka does, after a moment of confusion. “What?”

“Look at this,” the man says, pointing at a rock in the aquarium, “see that, encrusted on the rock? Look there, it’s opening its shell to release its legs.”

Shizuka looks, and what she thought was some sort of stone opens up to extend an appendage similar to a feather duster. “What is that?” she asks as Jotaro rolls up his sleeve and dips his hand into the aquarium, picking up the rock the thing is attached to. He presents the rock, water dripping all over the floor.

“An acorn barnacle. Those feathery things are modified legs, left over from their larval stage. Most species of barnacle attach themselves to substrate, but many others cling to animals. These, for example, like to latch onto to humpback whales. At first glance, they resemble bivalve molluscs like clams or mussels, but in fact they’re crustaceans, closer to crabs.”

“Ohh, ok… Does it have anything to do with what we were talking about?”

“No. It just fascinates me.”

“...Ok.”

“Come outside with me for a second.”

Jotaro gets up from his seat abruptly and steps out of the lab. Shizuka follows him outside, bewildered. On the deck of the research vessel, she can see land in the distance. Gulls cry overhead. Jotaro stares straight ahead. The name painted on the side of the vessel is OCEAN MAN.

“2 years ago, the world nearly came to an end.” 

Shizuka blinks. “What?”

“A man named Enrico Pucci, a follower of an old enemy of mine, set in motion a plan which would give him the power to end the world and remake it in his image. Jolyne and I tried to stop him, and we failed. STAR PLATINUM couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t touch him.”

“... Well, it couldn’t have been that bad, considering we’re all still here.”

“Yes. We have Giorno Giovanna to thank for that.”

“Who?”

“Giorno Giovanna. The son of that old enemy of mine, the very one Pucci lived for. He appeared out of nowhere, drawn by fate to Cape Canaveral, just like we were. He saved our lives, stopped Pucci with the most terrifying ability I’ve ever seen. But with his death came something I can’t explain; things were different. The world seemed different. Maybe the nature of Pucci’s ability was that it would affect the world in spite of his death. I don’t know. But in spite of everything, I was still alive. Jolyne was still alive. We all were still alive.”

Shizuka grimaces, looking down. “But then Daddy died six months later anyway! So you got upstaged, what difference does it make!?”

“It makes a difference. I was afraid. I still am.”

“... You are…?”

“I’m afraid that the world we’re in is the wrong one. I’m afraid of Giorno Giovanna’s power, however much he seems to intend to use it for good. In that moment when Death stared me straight in the face, I truly felt powerless. I feared that I would die, unable to do anything to protect the ones I love. 

“I was afraid of losing my family. But I didn’t. I still have my daughter, and all of you.”

“But... we’re not family. I’m… not your family.”

“Yes you are. We might not share any blood, but that’s not what families are made from. Connections don’t start with the blood, but the Will. The old man chose you, made you his daughter. You dishonor his memory by denying that connection.”

“But Daddy isn’t here anymore…!”

“He lives in you. He left behind a legacy of adventure and justice, and spent his final years raising you. As long as we live with pride, he’s always with us.”

Too busy stifling tears to pull away from Jotaro’s gentle embrace, Shizuka buries her face into her nephew’s shirt. “What-- What do I even do?”

“I don’t know. You have to decide, but whatever you do, you’ll be fine. You are Joseph Joestar’s daughter.”

Shizuka sniffs, and dribbles snot into the fabric of Jotaro’s coat. Shaking his head, he says “Good grief…”

                                                            ---

“My own way of doing things?” Shizuka murmurs, staring in the mirror. “What is my way of doing things? Who am I, even?” She has returned home, standing in the bathroom of her parents’ New York apartment, where she has lived her whole life. 

Once again, she places the sunglasses over her eyes, casting a reddish veneer over her vision. She raises her hand, and concentrates. Before her eyes, the hand turns invisible. “This power… That I’ve always used to hide away… To disappear… I don’t want that! I don’t want to disappear! I want to be real!!”

She began with practicing smiles in the mirror, her face so unused to it. A spirit gripped her, a new determination she had never before known. Having mastered smiling, she began further preparations. 

Sunbathing herself beet red, experimenting with all manner of make-up, nearly bleaching the hair right off her scalp. Every misstep only fuelled her determination, to take the next step in her transformation. 

She would no longer be someone who hid, who disappeared. She would draw attention, burn herself into people’s memories. Like a star, shining light in the dark. 

She would be Shizuka Joestar.

                                                         ---

Back in the present, Phantasma swings a heavy fist at her. She jumps back, losing her footing and stumbling backwards into the ropes. Her ears are ringing and there is a whirlpool in skull. Beneath her feet, shards of shattered glass crunch. Leaning back over the ropes, Shizuka sees the broken skylight above her. The shaft of light that illuminate the dim place.

“Phantasma…” she murmurs.

The masked woman listens, her eyes till covered by the makeshift blindfold. “Hmm?”

“Do you know… about whale barnacles?”

“... Excuse me?”

“Whale barnacles. Like the barnacles that you find stuck to piers or rocks in tide pools, only these ones attach themselves to live whales, especially humpbacks. My nephew told me about them.”

“... I seem to have struck you so hard you can’t think straight. You were doing so well before, and now you’re making a fool of yourself, once again.”

Shizuka gasps, gulping air into her harried lungs before speaking again. “The thing with barnacles is, they live their whole adult lives cemented to a single object, but they are not part of it. They are wholly independent.

“In extreme cases, a lot of barnacles can provide a humpback whale with armor, protecting it from rivals or predators. But it might also cause extra drag, slowing it down. But only in extreme cases, and even then, the barnacles do not serve the whale at all. They are completely, independent beings. Phantasma… I’m sure you think you’ve already won, yes?”

Phantasma cocks her head to one side. “I don’t follow what you’re saying. You are right, of course, I look forward to your final moments. I expect them to be glorious. But what do barnacles have to do with anything?”

“It’s just the first… the first thing you need to understand.” She says, pulling herself, facing forward. Her vision is unfocused, as she stares straight past Phantasma, at the gap in the ropes where Moya fell through.

“The first? What, then, is the second?”

“The second thing is my name,” she stands, no longer leaning on the ropes. “You heard it before, but I don’t think you were paying attention, so I’ll tell you again. My name is Shizuka Joestar. That name is why you’re going to lose.”

“Oh? How so? Will your family’s lawyers litigate me to death? It’s worth a try, I suppose,” the masked woman sneers.

“It’s not about money, it’s about tradition,” Shizuka says, her smile weakly returning. “Within the Joestar family, there’s a technique that’s been passed down through the generations. A surefire move that not even Moya knows about.”

“A secret technique?” Phantasma asks, her grin becoming genuine.

“That’s right. You told me to fight until my last breath… well, if all my other options are through, then I have no choice… I hope you’re ready for this…!”

“I am ready. Show me, Shizuka Joestar!” ABRAXAS emerges, banging its chest before readying itself behind Phantasma. “Show me what your blood is worth!”

[noona-clock]

iKonic Fairy Tales: Snow White, Part 2

A modern fairy tale series in collaboration with @cramelot - stay tuned next week for the next story featuring a new member! ✨

Genre: College/Neighbor!AU

Pairing: Donghyuk x You

By Admin B

🍎Part 1, 2, 3, 4

So, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Donghyuk on the bus ride home that evening.

You wondered what he was like - was he as sweet as he seemed? What was he majoring in? Was he one of those spoiled rich kids? Most likely not because he hadn’t seemed offended or disgusted when you told him you rode the bus.

(Also, did he have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Either way, you lowkey hoped the answer was no. Not that you were interested or anything. I mean, you’d just met the guy. You’d talked to him for, like, two minutes. But he was cute! A girl could dream, right?)

When you arrived at The Queen’s house the following day, you informed the kids of your encounter with their new neighbor, and they begged and pleaded to go over and play pinball. Penelope even lifted her head from the kitchen table where she was currently dozing off to say, “Yeah, please, can we go?”

“Did you ask your mom?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

All seven children let out a defeated sigh in unison, their shoulders sagging.

So, that was a ‘no.’

“Believe me, I would love to go over there,” you assured them, reaching out to ruffle Eddie’s hair. “But I don’t want to do anything your mom doesn’t know about.”

“She’s so mean,” Piper grumbled. The corners of her lips were pulled down into the cutest frown you’d ever seen, and you had to hold yourself back from letting out a giggle.

“She’s just worried about your safety!” you rebutted. “And she’s your mother, so be thankful for her.”

“I wish you - *achoo!* - were our mother.”

“Bless you, Billy. Well, I’m not your mother, but I am your nanny. And that’s almost as good,” you grinned, reaching out to pinch his cheek gently.

“Wait, why would you love to go over there?” Roy asked suspiciously. “Do you have a crush on him?”

You heard about five gasps, and everyone besides Piper and Penelope crowded around you, jumping up and down and teasing you.

“I don’t!” you laughed. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you think he’s cute, right?” Eddie beamed up at you, and your heart melted a little. You’d never met anyone with a smile as sweet as Eddie’s.

Well... except maybe Donghyuk.

“I mean, yes. He’s very good-looking.”

“So, go over and talk to him!” Otis urged.

“No! You guys need to get your homework done, not worry about my love life.” You began herding them all toward the kitchen table so they could get started on their work and, hopefully, leave you alone. For the time being.

As the evening progressed, you were not surprised one bit to find you had to continue to combat accusations of your crush on Donghyuk. You avoided the kids’ comments and questions and teasing, and they honestly really only shut their sweet mouths when their mother came home from work.

You let out a sigh when you closed the door behind you, as you usually did. But today, you were simply glad to be away from the kids’ pestering.

You hadn’t even made it halfway down the driveway when you saw him, though.

Donghyuk.

Obviously.

He was leaning against his mailbox, and he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was waiting for you.

“Hi,” you greeted when you got close enough.

“Hey, I really don’t want you to think I’m being creepy,” he began, causing a little giggle to bubble up in your throat. “I just didn’t want you to have to walk down the road by yourself. But if you don’t want me to, that’s totally fine. I just... I mean, there’s no one else in this neighborhood who’s my age.”

“Okay,” you chuckled. “Yes, you may walk me down to the bus stop. But, just so you know, I do have pepper spray in my bag, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Noted.” He looked somewhat scared but also somewhat in awe of you.

When he fell into step next to you, you took a breath, feeling the word vomit making its way up into your mouth.

You were nervous, of course. A cute guy was walking you to the bus stop. You hadn’t ever really had a boyfriend before or even someone who was interested in becoming your boyfriend.

And when you were nervous, you couldn’t really control your conversation.

You began to ask him all the little things - favorite movie and favorite food and stuff - because you knew if you asked him the big things, you’d feel the need to reciprocate and tell him your big things.

One surefire way to scare someone off? Tell them your tragic life story the day after you meet them.

So you kept things as light and casual as you could as far as the ‘getting to know you’ stuff.

And when Donghyuk joined you on your walk again the next evening, you continued on with your plan.

And the next evening, and the next evening, and the next...

After almost two weeks, you felt like you knew just about everything light and casual there was to know about Donghyuk. You could definitely say the two of you were friends now, and... you could definitely say you had a crush on him.

He was as sweet as he’d seemed when you first met him, plus he was smart, funny, and very thoughtful.

You honestly couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you headed up the driveway tonight, seeing Donghyuk waiting for you as he always was.

This time, though, he was throwing something very gently up into the air over and over again, catching it easily in his hand. It looked like a baseball or something, but when you reached him, he held it out to you.

“Snack?” he asked. “Thought maybe you’d be hungry.”

What you’d thought was a baseball actually turned out to be a shiny, red apple, so you let out an awkward chuckle and shook your head.

“I’m allergic to apples, actually,” you told him.

“Oh, sorry!” he cried immediately, throwing the apple over his shoulder as quickly as he could.

“No, it’s fine,” you assured him with a soft laugh, watching to make sure the apple didn’t hit anything (thankfully, it landed in his front yard with a soft thud). “It’s not a common food to be allergic to, really.”

“Do you have a medical bracelet or anything?” Donghyuk asked, his brow furrowed as he gently grabbed your wrist to see. “An Epi-Pen?”

“No and yes. Don’t worry, I’ve been allergic my whole life. I know how to handle it.”

“Sorry,” he murmured with a very shy, embarrassed grin. “I’m a medical student, so it just kind of comes naturally.”

“A medical student?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting halfway up your forehead.

“Well, pre-med.”

“That’s really impressive.”

“Yeah...”

You could tell Donghyuk didn’t necessarily think so, so you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “What’s up?” you asked softly.

“Nothing,” he assured you with a shake of his head. “Just... it’s what my parents wanted. But it’s fine. They’re not making me pay rent, and they’re covering all my school expenses, so... Can’t really complain, y’know?”

You simply nodded, nudging him again, though this nudge was more of a comforting, supportive nudge.

While you were always an advocate of following your heart and your dreams, you couldn’t really blame him for majoring in what his parents wanted.

To be honest, you would do anything to have your parents here to tell you what to major in.

When you reached the bus stop a few minutes later, you realized you hadn’t said anything since the exchange about Donghyuk’s major.

But before you could even take a breath to break the silence, you suddenly felt his fingers brush against the back of your hand, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Are... you okay?” he asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” His question pulled you out of your little trance, and you pulled your lips into a smile as you looked over at him. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re not usually this quiet.”

“Yeah, I just... I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

“So... you’re not nervous around me anymore?”

“No, not really.”

“Does that mean you would let me drive you home?”

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and you shrugged coyly. “Maybe...”

The smile which appeared on Donghyuk’s face was honestly bright enough to power three of these huge mansions for the next two months. And it was enough to make your heart skip about five beats.

“Should I go back and get my car? I’ll run home and come and pick you up in two minutes.”

While you were still a bit wary (only because Donghyuk finding out you lived in a tiny, old apartment complex could prove to be just a bit embarrassing), you still couldn’t stop yourself from nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Donghyuk grinned. “I promise. Don’t move.”

“Where would I go?” you chuckled as he turned around and began jogging back down the street.

You watched him for a few moments, biting your lip to keep your smile from becoming too idiotic. And just as you were turning away, planning to head to the bus stop to sit down, you suddenly heard or felt or saw someone.

It all happened so quickly, you weren’t really sure how you knew what was going on.

All you knew was a person had grabbed you and was trying to wrangle your bag away from you.

You cried out, letting out a high-pitched scream before the person put his hand over your mouth to stifle your voice. He was still trying to take your bag so even when you tried to reach in for your pepper spray, you couldn’t manage to get to it. You were also trying desperately to kick or punch or elbow him away, but everything was such a blur, you couldn’t really make heads or tails of what you were actually doing.

As you flung your arms out as hard as you could in an attempt to push him away, you felt his weight suddenly disappear.

Oh, wow!

You’d done it!

...Oh, wait.

Never mind.

Donghyuk had, apparently, run back and had grabbed the thief by his shirt collar.

Your heart was already racing from the sudden attack, but it was racing even more as you watched Donghyuk attempting to fight the guy off. He threw a couple punches and was trying to tackle him to the ground when the thief managed to escape and run away.

Once he was out of sight, Donghyuk rushed over to you, breathing heavily from his efforts. “Are you all right?!” he asked, reaching out to put his hands on your arms.

“Y--yeah,” you answered with a slight nod.

I mean, besides the fact you were terrified, yeah, you were fine.

It must have been very obvious you were lying because Donghyuk didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he murmured as he began to rub your back comfortingly.

Okay, now your heart was racing even faster than it had been.

Because.

Donghyuk’s chest.

Was, like.

Really nice.

You could feel his muscles underneath his shirt, and the way his arms were holding you... Goodness. You felt so safe and secure, and you literally never wanted him to stop hugging you.

Ever.

“Oh, geez, your heart is pounding,” he whispered, hugging you even tighter, probably in an attempt to make you calm down. “You’re shaking.”

Instead of replying, telling him why your heart was pounding, why you were shaking... you simply curled your arms up against his chest and buried your face in his neck. I mean, you were here! You might as well take advantage of it, right?! (P.S. You were not usually this forward, so you were going to blame this behavior on almost being mugged just a few minutes ago. You were in shock. Yep, that was it!)

“I’m definitely driving you home every day from now on, okay?” he told you. You felt him pressing his nose into your hair, and it sent shivers down your spine. “No arguments.”

You simply nodded, taking a deep breath and realizing just how good he smelled. Of course, he did. He was rich. Rich people always smelled amazing.

After what seemed like ten days of standing there, reveling in the feeling of being in Donghyuk’s amazing arms, you took a deep breath and began to pull away.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your forehead wrinkled as you locked your gaze on his.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he assured you as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. “I did what I had to do.”

“I tried to get my pepper spray out, but he --”

“I’m just glad I was still close enough to get here in time,” he interrupted. He was looking at you as if to say ‘Try not to worry about it - you did what you could.’

“Me, too,” you breathed, tempted to just go back in for another hug. But you knew you couldn’t just keep standing out here. You had to go home eventually. “You’ll... you’ll take me home?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. “Come on, let’s go.”

He put an arm around your shoulders and began guiding you back to his house, keeping you close to him as you walked and not letting you get even an inch farther from his side the whole way there.

And you were certainly okay with that.

Part 3

Tagging @sun-shinee-world @leilaammartin @daelicious-jongbulge @sweg-imsorrywhatwasthat @baekinmylife @xiusmybeautifulnightmare @lost-girl-inc @brie02 @peach-sm @jong-yixing @haveanotherkpopblog @sundropsoo @constellxtion @akutagawahakuryuunosuke @lazypostfandomer @cupcakemintylash @smut-wars @mistressoflight22 @veryhotkpop @chanyeolol @shawoltzen @garlandcrowns @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @nicht-so-schnell @jinhuwuan @dark-changbin @lafilleestmorte @tokyoseo @prettywordsyouleft @digitalizeduniqueness @this-song-thats-only-for-you @zhangjingyou @hmyzone55 @cinnamoonbunbin  for updates! Readers, let me know if you would like to be added to this list!

-Admin B

iKonic Fairy Tale Series: Aladdin | The Little Mermaid | Sleeping Beauty | Cinderella | Snow White | Rapunzel | Beauty & the Beast

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

[wordlesscaptain]

Paint the Town: Part 1 (Steve x Reader)

Pairing: Artist!Steve Rogers x Artist!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: language

Summary: College AU. Every senior art student is required to put together an art show at the end of the year to graduate and you couldn’t be more excited. However, your excitement dwindles when last minute changes are made and you’re forced to share your art show with a random student.

A/N: I’m back from the dead and I’ve just been itching to write. I shamelessly wanted to relive my college days...so this fic is based loosely off of my own experience. It’s very heavy on how American college works, so I apologize if there’s anything that’s confusing! Also, this is mostly just setting up the story, so no Steve as of yet. But we’ll see him very soon~

Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The distinct smell of oil paint and turpentine filled the air. You breathed in deeply with a smile on your face. Boy, had you missed the smell of all of those chemicals. You didn’t have the chance to paint at all during the summer because of your summer job, so you were more than eager to get a brush in your hand.

You opened the door to the painting classroom and picked out an easel that you would claim for the rest of the year. The easel—and everything else for that matter, the floor, the walls, the shelves, the sink—was covered in splotches of color. Everything showed a glimpse of all the other artists that shared this space before you.

You were no stranger to this room. You had left your fair share of paint scattered across the room. Although, you couldn’t necessarily point out a specific speck, you knew your handiwork was somewhere. It was comforting to know that this room held a piece of you in some way.

Soon your professor began the class and went over the syllabus and general goals for the semester. Being that this was an advanced painting class only for seniors, the overall goal was to work on pieces for your individual art show at the end of the year. You had been looking forward to that art show since freshman year. You constantly ran through different ideas and concepts for pieces you could put in the show and now all of those ideas could become a reality. It was an opportunity to finally showcase your talents without the distraction of other classmates. In a way, it was a chance to prove to the faculty and your classmates that you had grown as an artist over the years. It was definitely a daunting task.  Reserving the gallery, installing the paintings, promoting your show, and then actually having people to show up was nothing to laugh at. Not to mention, creating enough artwork to fill an entire gallery space.

You had heard horror stories from previous art students before you who hadn’t gotten enough artwork completed and weren’t allowed to graduate. It wasn’t a surprise that happened to students every year. Being seniors, students were left to their own devices. They were expected to motivate themselves and keep up a consistent schedule to get the work done. You didn’t consider yourself to be a lazy person, so that eased your worries.

Your professor ended the class by instructing everyone to bring blank canvases, brushes, and paints to the next class in addition to a few rough ideas for your individual art shows. You already had a million ideas buzzing around in your head and you couldn’t wait to bring them to the next class.

You picked up your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. You made your way out of the art building and started walking towards your apartment when you felt your cell phone buzz. You looked down at the notification on the screen.

NAT: Wanna get lunch?

YOU: Sure!

NAT: Meet us at the quad.

YOU: Us?

NAT: Wanda’s joining.

YOU: Okay! See you soon.

You shoved your phone in your back pocket and made your way to the main part of campus. Once you reached the quad, you looked around for any sight of your redheaded friend. You saw someone waving their hands frantically and smiled.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey,” Natasha and Wanda said with smiles as they engulfed you in a hug.

“So, where do you want to eat?” you asked the age old question.

“I know the perfect place,” Natasha smirked.   

—

“Ugh, this was such a good decision,” you groaned into your burger.

“I beg to differ,” Wanda grumbled, poking around at the fries on her plate with a fork.

“Burgers are an American classic. What’s not to love?” Natasha asked.

“The burgers are fine, it’s the people that work here that I have a problem with,” she explained.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you love the waiter more than the burgers,” Natasha smirked.

“You knew he worked here, didn’t you?” Wanda accused. Natasha just shrugged.

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Wanda had been crushing on a guy named Vision ever since freshman year, but never had the courage to make a move. They had the same major and a lot of classes together, so they saw a lot of each other. Natasha pushed her relentlessly, but Wanda never budged.

“C’mon, Wanda. It’s our senior year!” Natasha exclaimed. “We have to make it memorable.”

Wanda shook her head. “Y/N, help me out here,” she pleaded.

“I don’t think I can,” you shrugged.

“You’re right,” Natasha said. “You’re in the same boat as Wanda.”

“What?” you asked through mouthfuls of your burger, your brows furrowing.

“You’ve spent every year of college so far in that damn art building.”

“Yeah, that’s where my classes are,” you retorted.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “And this year, your final year, you decided to move into an apartment by the art building. Which is a good 20 minute walk from the rest of campus.”

“I don’t see a problem with that. Most of the senior art students move there their final year,” you responded.

“You’re so far from the rest of civilization. You’re going to be cooped up in that art building all year and miss out on everything else happening on campus,” Natasha explained.

“I asked you two if you wanted to move in with me, and you said no, so-”

“We couldn’t move out there,” Wanda interrupted. “You know who lives over there.”

“Art students?” you replied flatly.

“No, the frat boys.”

Oh, right. The frat boys. You had momentarily forgotten about all of them. It was the beginning of the school year, so they weren’t out in full force yet. But it was true, the apartment you chose to live in for the next year was surrounded by fraternities. They called it “Frat Circle”. There were about five fraternities clumped together and your apartment was located in the heart of them. You thought you’d be able to endure living there if it meant you were close to the art building. All you really wanted was to be close enough to your art studio so you could work tirelessly on pieces for your art show.

“Do you remember what happened the last time you went to a frat party?” Natasha asked.

“No, because I’ve never been to one,” you answered.

“Exactly,” she responded.

“You’re going to die out there,” Wanda added.

“Well, I don’t plan on interacting with any of them so I’ll be fine,” you reassured.

“Oh no, no, no,” Natasha scolded. “You have to interact with them. How else will you make your senior year memorable?”

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure I can find a couple of ways that don’t involve sleazy frat boys,” you replied.

“You’re no fun,” Natasha huffed.

You shrugged nonchalantly and focused on finishing the rest of your burger. Now that the conversation had died down, Natasha and Wanda did the same. You three sat in silence until Natasha spoke up.

“You know, there’s got to be at least a hundred guys living over there. Just talk to one. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Nat-”

“Y/N, I-” she paused. “Listen. I just don’t want you to look back years from now and regret not doing more.”

You sighed. She was right. You had really only focused on school and didn’t do much else up to this point. There was absolutely nothing wrong with focusing on school—that was the whole reason you were at college in the first place. But maybe she was right. If you looked back, would you be disappointed with yourself?

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Wanda has to talk Vision.”

“No-” Wanda whined.

“Deal,” Natasha beamed.

—

You were now a couple of weeks into the new school year. Classes had finally picked up and you were extremely busy, but the good kind of busy. It was manageable and not too overbearing. You enjoyed that you could finally get back into the rhythm of school. You were making great progress with your senior art show as well. Your professor had looked over your initial thoughts and ideas and helped you form a cohesive plan. Since you had gotten everything finalized, next week you were allowed to actually start on the paintings for your show. You were just itching with excitement. But that all changed when you opened your email and saw there was an email marked urgent from the art department themselves. That was never, ever a good sign.

You took a deep breath and opened the email, reading it slowly.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

We regret to inform you that due to an administrative error, senior art students will no longer be able to have individual art shows at this time. To accommodate the error, we have decided to pair each student up with another student. The faculty and staff have worked hard to match students whose artistic styles and strengths would complement each other.

We are pleased to announce that your partner for your upcoming art show is Steve Rogers. Please reach out to them at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

The Art Department

Well, that was a surefire way to ruin your day.

Part 2

Taglist:

Permanent:

@memyselfandmaddox @shilohrudd98 @bibibucky @12thatsanumber

Steve:

@thebakerstboyskeeper @wowikindasuck @musical-whovian @coffeebooksandfandom @manchuria @19mrs-rogers18 @zlixlle

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please go here or send me an ask!

[lvnce-mcclain]

bonded (in your arms)

Chapter Summary:

“This isn’t what I want.” Lance says, because he feels like he has to say it or it’ll be stuck in his throat all night.

Keith looks down at him, and Lance can barely see his eyes through the thick veil of Keith’s bangs. “I know it isn’t. I’m sorry, Lance.”

When he leaves, Lance tries to tell his hammering heart it isn’t for good.

Chapter: 7/?

Word Count: 7.8k

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Read it on AO3 

Can't keep this bed warm on the left side

When something is cold as a goodbye

surefire, john legend

They run out of leads. Allura suggests they consider moving to a new quadrant where there’s been some heavy Galra activity so they can continue the mission while they wait on word from the hundreds of messages they’ve sent out to their allies for any sighting, any anything.

“I know you don’t want to leave, Keith, but we’ve exhausted our resources. We need to keep moving.”

“We haven’t finished with this area,” Keith tells her tersely, and Lance can see the twitch in his jaw from how hard he’s clenching his teeth.

“It’s been weeks, Keith. We have to keep the mission in our minds.” Allura’s voice is gentle but firm and Lance almost flinches because he knows it’s going to set Keith off; Lance can almost feel the abrupt spike in tension radiating off Keith.

“What about keeping Shiro in our-” Keith starts, but the bay door quickly sliding open cuts him short. They all look toward the sound and Pidge is there, their laptop balanced on one palm and frantically pushing up their glasses with their other hand as they run toward them.

“Guys! I did it! I finally got the algorithm working!” Pidge says breathlessly, holding the laptop up triumphantly as they skid to a stop beside Lance.

They all three blink at Pidge blankly.

“You know? The algorithm to find Shiro?” Pidge supplies slowly and Lance shakes his head.

“Wait, what? You can make that?”

“I’ve been telling you guys about this for the last week, do you literally ever listen to me?” Pidge huffs out.

“Dude, you’ve literally only been talking in half-sentences and mumbles all week, no one has been able to understand you,” Lance fires back and sticks out his tongue at the glare Pidge gives him.  

“Either way, this is fantastic news, Pidge!” Allura claps, but Keith interrupts her with an impatient growl of frustration.

“Yes, it’s great, fantastic, but how does it work? What do you mean it can find Shiro? Do you know where he is?”

Pidge falters, nudging their glasses higher up their nose. “No, I don’t know where he is… Yet. But this- it will scan all nearby radio signals for any of the trigger words related to Shiro.”

“That means it would be best if we cover as much area as we can, correct, Pidge?” Allura asks pointedly and Lance can nearly feel the way Keith bristles next to him.

“Yes, the more area we can cover the better. I can only search signals within a certain radius, and while it’s a pretty generous radius, it would be advantageous to cover has many quadrants as possible.”

There’s a tense moment, the air stifling as some internal war burns inside Keith- Lance can see the beginnings of battle scars start to form in Keith’s eyes as he stares right past Allura’s shoulder. Pidge shuffles uncomfortably, gaze drifting between Allura and Keith and before finally settling on Lance with a lost look.

Pidge clears their throat. “Uh, guys, did I-”

“Fine. We leave- but only after Pidge can run this scan for our area.” Keith’s tone has a challenge at its edges and Lance turns to Allura, silently pleading her to take the compromise.

Allura meets Keith fiery gaze cooly and Lance swallows. “Deal.”

Keith continues to stare for a second longer before nodding tersely and turning to leave the way Pidge came. Lance lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, eyes closely briefly in relief.

“Thank you, Allura. He’s just- he’s…”

“We’re all worried, Lance. I know.” Allura’s hand is a soft weight against Lance’s shoulder and his own hand reaches up to meet hers, a grateful smile curving his lips.

“I’ll go find him. Thanks for the update, Pidge.” Lance gives Allura’s hand a squeeze and a nod to Pidge before heading off toward the training room.

Sure enough, Keith is letting out his frustration with well-aimed but chaotic blows against some training bots. Lance isn’t surprised, even if the sight resonates a deep panging in his chest. Keith still hadn’t been able to quit his habit of working himself to death when he doesn’t know what else to do and Lance thinks it’s probably a tendency he’ll never be able to shake. Lance doesn’t try to join him this time; even from this distance, he can see the force behind each hit and knows this isn’t the kind of sparring he needs to take part in. This needs to be between Keith and whatever Keith sees when his fists connect with that metal. Instead, Lance settles in against the doorframe and waits.

He tries to keep himself from getting lost in Keith’s movements but Lance has always had a hard time not being mesmerized by the quick movements and dodges executed with an expertise he’s been trying to imitate for far longer than he would like to admit. Tonight isn’t a time for admiring Keith’s form, though; Lance sees the frustration grow every time Keith’s movements become more chaotic, more brutal- this isn’t helping Keith tonight, it’s just fueling that anger into a firestorm and Lance winces as a final blow lands and the bots power down, leaving Keith half-slumped with his arms limp at his sides, breath heaving from his chest and bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat.

Lance pushes off the door frame after a few more seconds pass by and Keith doesn’t look up- whether he doesn’t notice Lance or is deliberately not noticing him, Lance isn’t sure. Either way, Keith doesn’t look up until Lance is in front of him and pushes those sweaty bangs out of his eyes, and even then Keith only spares him a second-long glance before his gaze skitters off to the side.

“Hey, Space Cadet.”

Keith puffs out a breath that could maybe pass for a laugh. Lance waits but gets nothing else, so instead of trying words again he rolls his eyes and grabs Keith’s hand.

“Lance, wha- no, wherever it is, I don’t want to go,” Keith tells him, a drag in his step, but Lance ignores him and tugs harder. If Keith didn’t want to use his words before, he isn’t going to get to use them now. The destination is barely half-formed in Lance’s mind, only knowing he needs to get Keith out of the training room before he leaves more broken than he went in. It isn’t until they are about to pass the elevator that Lance gets a plan and yanks Keith through the doors.

“Lance, I’m serious, I don’t-”

Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers and gives him a look that’s a lot more gentle than Lance actually feels; he knows anything Keith can take as a challenge right now will only fuel the defiance smoldering in his belly and Lance doesn’t have the energy to put out those flames tonight. “Just come with me, babe. Trust me. Please.”

Keith holds Lance’s stare with unreadable eyes, his chest rising once, twice, and Lance doesn’t know if he’s going to win this one. But then Keith exhales heavily and the fight leaves his shoulders and Lance knows he’s given in.

“That won’t always work, you know.”

Lance grins. “So long as it works tonight, Samurai.”

The door opens to the pool that’s hidden deep within the castle, and Lance flips the gravity switch that Allura had shown him after their last failed attempt to go swimming. As the water settles in, Lance turns to Keith and shuffles close, his hands easily finding their way to the hem of Keith’s shirt. His fingers twist the fabric as Lance eyes Keith from beneath lowered eyelashes.

“Is this okay?”

For the first time that night, Lance asks Keith for permission; even if Lance thinks this is what Keith needs to wind down, he doesn’t want to push him past any limits. They’d grown closer in the last few weeks since that first kiss, but there had barely been any other kind of physical affection between them since Shiro’s disappearance. Outside of the sleeping, of course, but their nights together felt more like some kind of intangible intimacy that Lance can’t put a name to. Lance still doesn’t know what kind of limits lay between them, and even if tonight isn’t just some ploy to get Keith shirtless, Lance needs to know Keith’s okay with everything.

There’s a beat of silence before Keith’s fingers skim over his own and Lance can feel the brush of Keith’s hair as he nods next to Lance’s shoulder. Lance hesitates only a second before pushing his hands up under Keith’s shirt and tugging it up and over his head, dropping it next to them on the floor.

Keith lets out a low exhale and Lance follows the movement with his fingers, slowly- shakily- skimming over the soft skin of Keith’s belly as his hands fall back down to rest on his hips. Lance thumbs at the edge of Keith’s jeans, a stutter in his heart and strain in his lungs because he wants so badly to have that solid confidence back right now. He wants to know exactly where he stands with Keith and what he can do- how far he’s allowed to go with these indefinite lines defining their relationship.

For a small, nasty moment Lance is thrown back to the Garrison and he’s chasing after Keith again; he’s unsure of himself and his place and knows he can never exist beside Keith as his equal. Only it’s worse, because Lance has a taste of what it’s like to feel like to stand beside Keith- he knows the rush of having all of Keith’s attention focused on him, knows the deep bloom of pride that reflects off the corners of a smile he’s the cause of. He knows it all and it fills him up every single time and he knows he can’t lose it.

And then Keith’s fingers are gently wrapping around Lance’s forearms and Lance can breathe again. Keith’s forehead drops against Lance’s shoulder and Lance pulls him fractionally closer, hands drifting to Keith’s back and holding on. He can feel every shaky exhale against his palms and he knows that Keith is just as unsure as he is half the time; they’re taking this in with every new step, but they’re taking those steps together.

“We’re not skinny dipping, are we?” Lance can feel Keith’s lips move against his shoulder and lets himself smile.

“Only if you want to, babe,” Lance tells him on a soft laugh, anxiety easing out of his lungs with every breath, and trying to not let the idea interest him too much. “You may want to drop those pants though- don’t think they’d be too comfortable in the water.”

Keith snorts and moves back to unbutton his jeans, and Lance quells the small flare of anxiety that stems from not having Keith so close- skin to skin, within reach. He knows it’s irrational and forces himself to step back, even if his eyes want to stay glued to Keith, which proves to be its own struggle.

Lance has to force himself not to watch and instead begin his own undressing because this is not meant for him to be able to admire Keith in various states of undress, damn it. This is supposed to be cathartic for Keith, to be something for him to relax with and not destroy his muscles in the process. The image of Keith’s fingers playing with the button of his jeans just needs to go, thanks.

Lance kicks his jeans off from around his ankles and hurries to the pool before his imagination gets any more fuel but immediately regrets it when he turns to see Keith bent over and stacking his jeans on his shoes, more skin showing than Lance has ever seen on him. His heart does a hard thump against his ribs as his mouth goes dry at the sight of Keith walking over, eyes still simmering with some of that residual challenge pent up inside him and meeting Lance’s stare unabashedly.

Lance dunks himself under the water.

When he resurfaces, pushing the dripping hair out of his eyes with a deep breath for air, Keith is sitting on the edge of the pool and the water is lapping at his knees. Lance wades over to him, feeling a lot more stable from the shock of cool water.

Keith splashes a handful of water towards him as Lance starts to tread water a couple feet away. “Why did you drag me out here, Lance?”

Lance splashes back. “A guy can’t want to go swimming with his not-boyfriend without being questioned?”

Keith’s face colors a little at even the mention of the b-word and Lance can’t help but feel a little vindictive joy at it. “Some guy? Sure. You? No.”

“Maybe I just wanted to get you undressed,” Lance shoots him a leer and laughs when Keith kicks some more water at him. He grabs hold of Keith’s foot and lets it pull him back toward him, floating with Keith’s leg as he moves it to and fro slowly.

“You usually do.”

“Fair enough,” Lance laughs and doesn’t say more, almost hoping Keith would be distracted enough to forget the original question.  

“So why tonight?” Keith pulls Lance toward him and keeps him there this time, calves wrapping loosely around Lance’s middle. Lance switches his hold from Keith’s leg to hooking his elbows over Keith’s knees, propping his chin up over his crossed arms and looking up at Keith. The water laps against Lance’s sides as Keith’s feet circle a few half-shapes in the water behind Lance’s back. The movement gives him a little time to stall, but he still can’t bring himself to admit it.

“You know why. You don’t have to try to drag it out of me.”

Keith hums. “I don’t normally have to.”

Lance doesn’t give him the satisfaction of answering, instead letting the water and Keith’s legs sway him while he hides his face against Keith’s thigh. He isn’t going to push this conversation, because he knows Keith is just looking for a reason to give him another I don’t need to be coddled, Lance lecture and really, Lance is just trying to help. The lecture can shove it.

“Right after my dad died,” Keith starts, softer than the sounds of water against Lance’s skin, “I didn’t expect much out of life. My dad was my whole world, and then… We’ve lost people our battles, but we haven’t lost a whole world.” The words sound rough against his throat and Lance stays as still as he can, afraid any acknowledgement of the words might make them disappear.

Keith takes a minute to keep going, nothing but quiet between them, until Lance is almost startled at the feeling of fingers against his hair. The touch is soft, tentative, and Lance lets out a breath. Keith’s fingers sift through the hair beginning to dry against Lance’s forehead, pushing it back and then just softly running through it. Lance leans a little more into the touch.

“I didn’t know how to rebuild something like that. Didn’t know if I wanted to. I would always push anyone that got too close away, because I didn’t want anyone settling into something shaped like a foundation. They all let me, too. All of them, except Shiro.”

Lance shifts, something in Keith’s voice growing more tangible, and looks up; Keith is staring at his hand sifting through Lance’s hair, and it takes him a second to register Lance’s gaze. When he does, though, Lance’s heart breaks. “I know he’s… Special to you.”

Keith laughs, but it’s hollow. “He was everything to me, for a while. Didn’t exactly replace what I lost, but he showed me how to have meaning again. Not just meaning in my life, but how to make myself mean something. He taught me so much, and only because he never gave up on me.” The words so I will never give up on him are left unsaid, but are still the heaviest words hanging in the air.

“We’re not giving up on Shiro.” The firm steadiness in Lance’s voice surprises him, but he can’t let Keith think for even a second this team is going to let go of their leader that quickly. He can’t let Keith think he’s alone in this struggle.

Keith holds Lance’s stare for what stretches into a silent eternity, before he breaks it suddenly and moves his fingers through Lance’s wet hair once again. “I know,” Keith says, the words barely above a whisper. His thumb traces along Lance’s temple and Lance’s eyes close briefly at the touch. Keith clears his throat and a little stronger he says, “I do know that. It just- it doesn’t feel that way when we’re leaving here without him.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say to that isn’t a repeat of the same we’ll find him, we’ll find him, we’ll find him I promise mantra he’s been chanting to Keith for weeks. So instead he pushes back into the water, tugging playfully on Keith’s legs. “C’mon, man, you need to get your mind off everything.”

Keith shakes his head, hands gentle but firm as he pries Lance’s hands off his calves. “Look, I… I really appreciate, uh- this. I know you’re trying to help. But I really don’t feel like it. I think… I think I’m just going to go to bed, okay?” Before Lance can try to persuade him, Keith is already up and shaking off the excess water from his legs.

“See you back in your room?”

Keith pauses putting his shirt back on, jeans hung low on his hips, before tugging it over his hair quickly. His voice sounds apologetic, but his eyes look far off when he says, “No, that’s okay. You relax in here, okay? I’ll stay with you tomorrow.”

That nasty little feeling starts nagging at the edges of his heart but Lance tries to make sure the hurt doesn’t show through his words as he says, “Okay… Okay, yeah, totally.” But Keith is already half out the door, leaving Lance feeling colder than he did a few minutes ago.

Keith does find him the next night, but it’s after Lance has already fallen asleep; fitfully, at least, trying to wait up but eventually just accepting Keith isn’t going to stay with him for a second night in a row.

Lance sits up on one arm, wipes his eyes blearily and mumbles out a rough, “Keith?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Keith barely gives him a glance as he toes out of his shoes before climbing into the space Lance makes for him in the bed.

“‘S’okay, didn’t mean to fall asleep. Blade?” Lance asks around a yawn, settling in against Keith’s back. He noses against the hair at Keith’s neck and can tell Keith didn’t stop for a shower before coming to find Lance; even if it’s a little gross, Lance can’t help but feel a little soft at the thought Keith wanted to come find him as soon as he got back to the castle even if he didn’t stop to tell Lance he was leaving in the first place.

“Yeah, wanted one last go with the local Blades before we leave the area. Still no sign.” Lance lets out a sigh into Keith’s hair and Keith stiffens just a bit. “Sorry, probably stink. Didn’t stop by the showers.”

Lance smirks a little, eyes drifting shut and close to sleep again, and nuzzles a little closer. “Yeah, but I don’t mind.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Weird for you.”

Lance’s drapes his arm over Keith’s waist and pulls him close by his chest, ready to fall back asleep, but Keith is just a little too stiff in his arms; there’s a rigid hold to his arms, even as one hand comes up to clasp at Lance’s against his chest. His breathing is just shy of regular, like he’s trying hard to convince Lance he’s comfortable and close to sleep.

Lance hesitates a minute before whispering, “You okay?”

He can feel Keith stiffen more before forcefully relaxing his limbs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lance, I’m sure. Just drop it, okay?” Keith snaps on a rushed breath and Lance pulls back a fraction.

“Hey, woah, dude. I was just checking on you. You didn’t seem okay, that’s all.”

Keith sighs and sits up, dislodging Lance’s arm and running one rough hand through his hair. “I just-” He sighs again, this time more of a huff of breath than anything more substantial. “I’m not okay, alright? You know I’m not okay. I don’t know why you have to ask.”

Lance blinks at him, arm still half reaching out from where it had been holding Keith a moment ago, but then Lance drops it as he realizes how stupid he looks. “Uh, because I care about you? I know you’re not okay in like, the general sense, Keith. I meant- you know what I meant. Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

Lance manages to resist rolling his eyes, and he should honestly win a goddamn peace prize. “You know that’s not true.”

“You seem to know more about what I know than I do tonight, Lance,” Keith scoffs out and rubs at his temple, fingers too rough to really be soothing. “Listen, I just wanted to be with you tonight. I didn’t come here to be interrogated, Lance.”

Lance holds in the affronted sound that just about escaped his throat, so make that two peace prizes. “When did asking if you’re okay become an interrogation?”

Keith doesn’t answer but instead starts getting out of bed and reaching for his shoes.

“Wait, Keith, stop. I’m just trying to have a conversation with you-”

“I don’t want to have a conversation right now, Lance!” Keith’s voice is a harsh whisper, like he’s trying to tamper his temper, but it still cuts through Lance; Keith hasn’t used that kind of tone with him in months and Lance had blissfully forgotten what it sounded like. “I just wanted to come be with you because no, Lance, I’m not okay, and I just wanted to not think . I didn’t want- I didn’t want all this.”

The fight in Lance deflates as his desire to avoid confrontation rises and he can’t help the small recoil that pulls him away from Keith. “Okay, Keith, I’m sorry… I get it, we can just sleep-”

Keith sighs, pulling his hands through his hair a few times back and forth. There’s a frustrated sound in the back of his throat when he finally looks back at Lance. “No, listen, don’t be sorry.” The words almost sound painful for Keith to force out, but the look is genuine in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I just- I don’t know if I know how to be around people right now. Sorry, I just-” Keith sighs and yanks on one of his shoes. Lance’s heart breaks just a little. “I can barely function right now, you should know that better than anyone.”

Lance swallows. “I know, I’m sor-”

“Please don’t finish that apology, Lance.” Keith’s hand stops from pulling on his other shoe to reach behind him and latch onto Lance’s wrist. His eyes stay stuck on the ground. “I don’t want to… To ruin this because I don’t know how to… How to be a functioning person right now. I don’t think I can lose you just because I lost Shiro, okay? So… I’m just gonna go.”

Lance lets Keith’s fingers slip through his own as he gets up.  Lance watches, almost numb, because tonight definitely took a sharp turn into nightmare territory; his fingernails dig into his palm, subconsciously checking to make sure this isn’t actually a bad dream. “This isn’t what I want.” Lance says, because he feels like he has to say it or it’ll be stuck in his throat all night.

Keith looks down at him, and Lance can barely see his eyes through the thick veil of Keith’s bangs. “I know it isn’t. I’m sorry, Lance.”

When he leaves, Lance tries to tell his hammering heart it isn’t for good.

“It’s been what, two days now?”

Lance groans. “Three and please- don’t remind me.”

Hunk shakes his head at Lance, and Lance watches him upside down where he’s strewn himself across the kitchen counter.

“Number Three, you’re going need to move for just a dobash,” Coran tells him distractedly, moving through the kitchen with a big bowl of something Hunk had just been seasoning.

“Ugh, why is no one taking this seriously?” Lance nearly hits his head on the side of the counter when he flings his head back dramatically for, you know, effect.

“Because Number Four and yourself will work whatever this is out. Both of you aren’t strangers to the tiff or two, you know.”

Lance doesn’t even try to stop the eye roll and instead rolls his entire body with it, swinging himself around to sitting upright. “But Coran, this was different. You should have heard him, he was just… Angry.” Lance knows it’s not the right word but he can’t manage to find something to fit the look in Keith’s eyes better. It wasn’t necessarily angry at him, he knows, but just. Angry.

Hunk snorts. “Keith is always angry, Lance.”

Lance opens his mouth on a defensive retort but realizes that neither of them will understand the differences between Keith’s normal angry and this because they just- they don’t know Keith the way Lance does. Still, he can’t help but pout a little. “Not always. And not like this.” Lance wraps his arms around his stomach protectively, if not a little petulantly, and scuffs one foot against the cabinet.

Coran sighs and finally sets down the bowl he was stirring and places one gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Listen, Lance. Keith is going through more than we can imagine. Yes, we all miss Shiro terribly but Keith has taken it harder than any one of us. Wait, my boy, I know you know,” Coran squeezes his shoulder as Lance tries to interrupt and Lance’s jaw clicks shut, “but do you really know? Something like this, Lance, causes people to react in unexpected ways. Tragedy affects everyone differently. You’ll just have to give Keith time, my boy. This is still fresh.”

Lance’s shoulders drop a little under Coran’s palm and he pats Lance one, twice, and then pulls his hand back. “I know… I do know. It’s just hard when I want to be there for him, you know?”

Hunk nudges Lance with his shoulder as he passes by to grab the bowl Coran had been stirring, a kind look in his eyes. “And Keith knows that, buddy. He’ll come to you when he’s ready. You just gotta let him work through this in whatever way he feels will help first.”

Lance nods and watches as they get back to cooking, knowing they are both right but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. It also doesn’t make it easy, or hurt less, but he could try if it’s really what Keith needs.

It’s three days later when they hear word from a nearby star system of someone named Li Antonnua which Allura tells them roughly translates to The Warrior; the algorithm Pidge set up included any incarnations of his old Champion title. After monitoring the signal that tipped them off, there were mentions of a stranger appearing in the city a few days back and single handedly tipping the scales in the rebels’ favor.

It’s not much to go off, but it’s the closest thing to a lead they’ve had since the disappearance and they’re all too nervous to let it give them hope. All except Keith, who is antsy the moment he latches onto the lead and wants to descend on the planet immediately. At one point Lance thinks he might need to camp out in front of the pods to make sure Keith doesn’t sneak out in one while they’re trying to plan their excursion, but Lance doesn’t know if he would even be able to stop Keith; they haven’t talked in six days, ten hours, and thirty-two minutes. Not that he’s counting, and not that he can feel every minute tick away under his skin like it’s trying to bury him in the weight of it, but you know. It’s been a while.

It takes a couple hours of planning- arguing- who would be running the mission but in the end, it’s Lance, Keith, and Hunk leading a reconnaissance on the ground while Pidge keeps them updated in the Castle with anything new from the radio. It took a lot of convincing to get Allura to agree to let Keith come down and Lance felt as uneasy as she did with Keith on the ground; he knows the look in Keith’s eyes, and he knows it means Keith is getting just a little too desperate to make rational decisions. Lance also knows it would have taken the entire Altean military to keep Keith out of this mission, and he would rather have him in his sights than have him stewing up in the Castle. Still, Lance’s nerves are on edge and one eye is on Keith the moment their boots touch the dry and sandy dirt. It doesn’t help that the lions would be too eye-catching so they had to fly down in a pod; not even knowing the Castle is hovering nearby in the atmosphere is enough to help ease the itch under his skin.

“Okay paladins, this planet is used to travelers due to the trade route but that doesn’t mean take your disguises any less serious; Pidge will be monitoring any outgoing radio signals if you are recognized but still- stay inconspicuous.”

“Got it, Princess. In and out. We got this,” Lance assures her quietly though the small earpiece Pidge had given them in lieu of their helmet communicators, which were left behind in the pod. Their armor isn’t exactly the best attire for blending in, so they’ve donned some lightweight cloaks over top that would not look out of place when trying to avoid the desert sun that beats down on the trade town.

The location of the signals Pidge was able to pick up on is in the middle of the market in the town square; vendors push and pull from all sides of the market, pushing their wares in the personal space of anyone who comes close enough to grab a hold of. The atmosphere is so different than the last one they all visited; the flea market was packed, sure, but it felt warm and lively while this place just felt suffocating. Lance’s skin itches to get in and out, but he knows they can’t just make a beeline for the location as to not cause any kind of suspicion so he forces himself to loosen his shoulders and pretend to look at the other stalls with interest.

Hunk stops by one stall with several varieties of plump looking fruits, eyeing the golden and peach colors. Lance stops with him, one eye on the rest of the market while Hunk looks, but Keith is roughly pulling at Hunk’s elbow as he passes. “Hunk, we’re not here to shop ,” Keith hisses low enough for them both to hear.

Hunk rolls his eyes, not being pulled anywhere. “Dude, chill. We’re supposed to blend in, right? What better way to not rouse suspicion than actually do some shopping?”

Keith nearly growls and Lance can see the way his fingers twitch against Hunk’s arm and the few looks that start to be thrown their way. Lance acts before he can think, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a fake laugh and tossing one arm over Keith’s shoulders, leaning low to whisper, “You’re starting to cause a scene. The goal is to not attract attention. Hunk is right, Keith. Calm down.”   

Lance can feel Keith stiffen under his touch and the small movement is enough to make Lance’s ribcage feel too tight against his heart. His grip on Keith’s shoulder falters but he keeps it there, unwilling to add to the scene Keith already caused. Lance feels the forced relaxation of Keith’s shoulder under his palm after a tense moment of consideration, his voice barely a huff as he releases Hunk’s arm. “Fine.”

“We’ll still keep it quick though, right, Hunk?” Lance adds for Keith’s benefit, letting his hand fall from Keith’s shoulder and taking no comfort in the closeness between them while Keith is stuck trying to not cause more ruckus by pulling away. The ache in Lance’s chest fills his lungs and he doesn’t know why there’s so much distance between him and Keith; their fight hadn’t been that bad, but then again Lance has no idea what’s going on in Keith’s head so it could be something else entirely and that thought is enough to eat at the lingering thread of closeness Lance felt between him and Keith.

All in all, it only takes less than twenty minutes for them to strategically peruse the stalls in a way that would naturally lead them to the targeted spot and Lance has to force himself to not reach for Keith no less than six times. The tense set of his shoulders that Lance wants to smooth away, the hair that falls in Keith’s face that causes Lance’s fingers to itch at the desire to swipe it out of his eyes- he has to tamper it all down, the censoring of his actions stinging somewhere behind his eyes.

The plan to gain the trust of whoever it is behind the stall, to hopefully convince them to trade information on this new rebel hero, is brimming under the anxiety in Lance’s chest and he latches onto the mission to distract him as the three of them step foot beneath the heavy cloth curtains of the stall. The air is heavy and heated inside the tent and Lance tugs his hood down to rest on his shoulders when he realizes they’re the only ones in the space.

The stall has various goods that seem like they’re all from different origins; it’s a hodgepodge of items that barely look like they belong together, least of all create a cohesive market stall. Lance realizes that for a makeshift base of information trading, the actual items being sold probably aren’t the highest priority but can’t help but think the owner of the stall could at least put a little effort into creating a better illusion.

Keith and Hunk both tug down their hoods as well when Lance steps back from looking at the various trinkets, a little suspicious that no one is around to greet them. He shares a look with Keith, and for once his heart doesn’t squeeze at the look in Keith’s eyes because he knows they’re both immediately on the same page. The airy jingle of a chime from the back of the tent catches their attention, all of their heads swiveling to watch as someone emerges from the back curtain. Lance manages to control his expression as a half-galra steps out.

Logically, Lance knows that not all galra are part of the empire; they’ve all been coming to terms with that fact ever since Keith discovered his heritage, some easier than others, but the introduction of the Blade members to their list of allies has made the transition of mindset a little smoother. So while Lance rationally knows that an instinct to pull his bayard at the sight of the newcomer might be a little harsh, the vibe the half-galra gives off only reinforces the itch of his fingers to palm the weapon at his back.

“My apologies, I didn’t hear you enter. May I help you find what you’re looking for?” The lilt of the shopkeeper’s voice is pitched in a way that Lance supposes is meant to be trusting, but every instinct is trying to pull Lance away from him.

Hunk looks between them and Lance can see out of the corner of his eye the way Keith’s hand is twitching toward his hip. Quickly, Hunk steps between them. “What we’re looking for is less of an item, I’m afraid.”

“More of the intangible good,” Lance snaps himself out of his gut reaction, mentally shaking himself for showing too much of their hand. He tries to turn up the charm to make up for the slip, giving the shopkeep the most charming grin he can muster. He sidesteps Keith to join Hunk, his fingers brushing Keith’s as he passes out of habit. The touch seems to be enough to shake Keith, though, and he loosens his shoulders fractionally.

The shop owner’s eyes flit between them before a grin that’s a little too excited stretches across too-sharp teeth. “Ah, I see you heard about our little… Advertisement?”

Lance sees the way Hunk looks at him uneasily out of the corner of his eye, but he refuses to turn away from the stranger. “Seems like it. We’re very interested in your… Special.” Lance feels a twitch of fingers against his wrist as Keith steps up beside him. He doesn’t have time to appreciate the flicker of comfort before the shopkeep is talking again.

He claps his hands together and the sound is enough to make Hunk flinch beside Lance. “Well, you’re in luck- we’re always looking for more patrons.” Lance is quickly growing tired of the game the stranger is wanting to play. He’s feeding off the agitated energy Keith is radiating, vindicated in knowing he’s not the only one on edge in this presence. “Well, why don’t we take this conversation in the back where it’s a little more private.”

“I think we’re good right here.” Keith’s voice is an immediate answer to the request.

“I’m sure you can understand the need for privacy when discussing such a thing, my friend. Not everyone has an appreciation for such sales .”

Lance feels Keith bristle at the continued game and steps in. “We do understand, and we’d be happy to join you...” Lance trails off with an unspoken question.

The shop keep grins again. “Oh yes, where are my manners. My name is Koxan. Just let me close up,” Koxan says as he moves past them, picking up a sign and disappearing outside the tent only to reappear a second later, zipping the tent’s entrance up as he goes. “Don’t want any interruptions, you see,” he offers against their apprehensive gazes.

Lance nods in agreement, nerves jumping in time with his bruising heart rate. Koxan pulls the the curtain he had come from earlier back and holds it open, an expectant look in his eye, so Keith steps forward first and then Lance knows he has to follow.

It’s darker than the main tent and before Lance’s eyes can adjust, Keith lets out a shout and Lance feels himself being pushed back from the edge of something he was about to step straight into. Immediately, Lance’s guard is up and his bayard is already in his hand as he rounds on Koxan with a speed he didn’t know he had. It surprises Koxan as well, and Lance manages to catch him hard on the side of the face with the end of his bayard. The cracking sound of metal against flesh is still ringing in Lance’s ears when he sees the dark outline of Koxan rushing him, and Lance calls out, “Hunk! Get Keith!” before he feels the half-galra slam into him. Lance has to lean all of his weight into his bayard to keep from toppling over, sure his teeth are going to crack under the pressure of gritting them so hard, and he can’t hear Hunk’s response from the blood rushing in his ears.

“Who are you?” Koxan snarls out, and Lance can feel his hot breath on his face and grimaces.

“I feel like that’s a question I should be asking you,” Lance spits out right before he feels the displacement of air as Keith’s sword is cutting through the space between them and Lance jumps back just in time.

“What is this? You lure people out here with what, hope? Only to trap them? For what?” The anger in Keith’s voice is enough to keep Lance out of the way, reaching behind him for Hunk and finding his arm. In the dim light, he can see Koxan splayed out on the ground, a sword edge close to his throat. Keith’s boot is heavy against his chest and pressing harder when he doesn’t answer.

“Rebels sell for a pretty price to the Empire,” Koxan finally gasps out as Keith’s other boot finds his hand.

“So you kidnap people looking for peace and sell them?” The horror in Hunk’s voice mirrors the disgust Lance feels building in his belly.

“Peace? These rebels aren’t looking for peace, they’re just as bloodthirsty as your friend here-” Koxan’s words are cut off as Keith’s foot connects with the side of his head, which lolls limply to the side.

“Keith-” Lance starts but is cut off by Keith’s harsh command into their communicators.

“Allura, contact the Blades. They’ll have someone to pick up at our coordinates. It was a bust. Get him tied up.”

Keith is already leaving the tent as Allura’s follow up questions are blowing up their link.

“God damn it.” The sound of Keith’s helmet ricocheting off the ground of the hangar, clacking abrasively as it rolls, drowns out the slam of Keith’s fist against the wall.

Lance tries not to flinch as the helmet rolls to a stop, standing close to Hunk and watching while Keith doesn’t move. His head is bowed in an angry defeat, back rising and falling heavily with each agitated breath and Lance shares a look with Hunk; both of them are lost as to what to say, the disappointment tangible between them as it grew in the silence of the pod on the flight back.

Each labored breath across the room pounds against Lance’s ears like drums, a guilty reminder that they’ve failed to find their leader with each beat. Lance opens his mouth to say something encouraging, but there’s nothing left in him to give and he hates himself for it just a little bit. Hunk clasps a warm, understanding hand on Lance’s shoulder and Lance leans into it.

“Keith, this isn’t the end- we’ll keep looking, we’ll-” Hunk starts softly, taking a step towards Keith but stumbling back when Keith suddenly rounds on him.

“We’ll what? Follow another dead end? Waste time when Shiro could be dying-”

“Hey,” Lance cuts in sharply, “that is not fair and you know it.”

“Fair? What the fuck is fair in this situation? Do you think it’s fair that Shiro is missing?” Keith turns his anger on Lance, and that’s better; Lance can take the heat on him. He can’t wring out any more hope but he can slip back into being fueled by this familiar heat in his gut, his indignation to keep Keith’s focus off Hunk moving him a few steps forward.

“Lance, it’s okay, don’t-” Hunk tries to say, hands up between them.

“No, it’s not okay,” Lance spits out, eyes never leaving Keith even while an ugly heat pools behind them. “You can’t use that as an excuse for attacking your teammates. We’re all trying our best to find Shiro, not just you, jerk.” Lance carefully keeps his fists at his sides, even as Keith’s eyes flare and he takes a few strides forward and suddenly he’s there, right in front of Lance, and Lance does his best not to flinch at the fire in Keith’s eyes.

“Are we? Are we? I know Allura and Coran have talked about contingency plans,” Keith spits out the word like it’s acid, his words burning not only himself but Lance as well. He knows the hushed tones of what ifs that have been circulating around the castle but none of them have actually been serious . Coran and Allura- they’re just worried. And they way they worry is to prepare , so Lance can’t begrudge them their plans. Because they’re not real plans, they’re just there to… To…

Lance shakes his head, eyes hard when he finally clears his thoughts. “How dare you. We all are hurting Keith, I know you’re hurting- but that doesn’t give you the right to make it worse by acting like this.”

Lance doesn’t recognize Keith with the amount of anger reflecting in his eyes and it goes straight through his heart when Keith says, “There you go again, trying to tell me how I feel. You don’t know shit about me, Lance, so just-”

“I don’t know shit about you?” The laugh Lance lets out is drier than the Garrison desert and it scratches against his throat. “That’s a load of bullshit and you know it, Kogane. I’ve tried being here for you but you don’t know enough about yourself to let someone care about you the way I do.” The words cut like glass against his gums, and he has to swallow the urge to spit out the rest of the shards; all of his frustration is a weight in his lungs, forcing his breaths out in heavy pulls with every second that ticks by and there’s more Lance didn’t know he had built up but he keeps the words deep in his chest.

The anger in Keith’s eyes turns frigid and Lance knows he’s set Keith off more the moment the words leave his mouth, a flashback to their last argument flickering in his mind. The silence buzzes in Lance’s ears and he can’t tell who’s more angry at this point.

Finally, Keith takes a step back but his eyes stay locked in Lance’s gaze. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Lance.”

Lance freezes. “What does that mean?”

Keith scoffs, his hand roughly pulling through his hair and his eyes are wild when he says, “You’ve been so good at knowing what I know, Lance, I’m sure you can figure it out.” There’s a beat, then, “I’ll go brief Allura. Bye, Lance.” And then he’s turning and leaving and each step causes Lance’s breath to come hard, faster, and then he can’t breathe at all as the door slides shut.

Hunk is speechless, eyes flickering between the door and where Lance is frozen in place. “Lance, I…” He starts, but then Lance is falling forward on a sob and Hunk is there to catch him.

“Oh god, Hunk. How did it happen this way?” Lance coughs out around a gasp for air and Hunk just hugs him tighter.  

So this was a hard chapter to write. And it's probably gonna be a hard chapter to read, not gonna lie. It will get better though. I don't have the constitution to keep my boys sad for long.

Also, speaking of length, some of y'all might notice I definitely changed the number of chapters again lmao. I am Weak. And bad at planning out chapters. Anyway, I am like 94% certain it will end at 8 chapters but since I've changed it twice now I don't trust myself anymore lol.

Last but not least I just wanna thank both Benni and salineshots for keeping excited to write this story. And of course everyone who reads this. I love hearing from you and knowing that people enjoy this.

[jinjikook]

Play With Me (M)

word count: 3.7k (i really tried to limit myself)

genre: smut; idol-verse + established relationship

pairing: reader/jooheon

summary: built up tensions from not seeing your idol boyfriend, jooheon, lead you two to have quite the steamy session on the couch. good thing jooheon has nice thighs and dirty mouth.

requested by: anon #1 who who asked for the reader to have a thigh kink & anon #2 who just wanted some good ‘ol joohoney smut; thank you for requesting! ♡

masterlist

Tonight was wild, in more ways than one.

To begin, it’d been a good year since you started dating Jooheon, in secret of course. As he was an idol (an up and coming one at that) who had an image to protect and he didn’t want anything happening to you because of saesang fans. You two had been friends before he debuted, having gone to school together and essentially dealing with the worsts of puberty together. So it honestly surprised no one when you finally got together with him; you’d seen each other at your individual worsts and bests already and still stuck around so you two found it comfortable to start dating. It wasn’t like much changed, except now you held hands when you watched movies or kissed each other goodbye at the end of days together.

Intimacy was difficult when it came time for it, not because you two weren’t attracted to each other or anything; it was just so damn hard to do anything remotely intimate in a cramped dorm with 6 other guys around. You’d been walked in on one too many times, either hearing a rushed “fuck sorry!” followed by the door slamming or with wolf whistles and claps while a new spectator joined your little fun.

(The latter was usually Minhyuk or Changkyun; those two were menaces when it came to your sex life.)

This time it’d been enough, you hadn’t seen Jooheon in over two weeks because of Fighter promotions and you hated it. Sure, you only wanted the best for your boyfriend and his group, but you also missed him dearly. Seeing him off your phone screen was entirely different than being with him in person. You missed his warm embrace and sweet dimples and oft eyes that made your heart simultaneously melt and race to a million beats per second.

You not only missed being around him and talking to him face-to-face, but you also missed the other benefits of dating. Like his lingering touches or the way he kisses your neck all the way to your collarbones when he wants you bad. It was torture to have to be celibate for so long, choosing very little times to pleasure yourself when he wasn’t around because it was just never the same. Nothing made you feel as good as Jooheon, not even the best sex toys money could buy. Call you sentimental, but you like the deep-set connection the two of you have; you think it makes sex that much better.

So when he finally caught a break after what felt like ages, you frantically called him and asked when was a good time to see each other. He missed you immensely as well so plans were made as soon as humanly possible, choosing to meet at the dorm in roughly an hour. You spent plenty of time getting yourself washed up and looking good for him, even opting to wear a pretty dress with a sexy set of black lace lingerie underneath. Jooheon never admitted it out loud, but he loved two things on you: black and lace. The two together were a deadly combination, a surefire way to get him in bed tonight.

Arriving at the dorm and punching in the entry code as discreetly as possible, you knocked at their door and waited on your heels, wondering if you looked alright. It was only a few seconds before the door was ripped open and you found Minhyuk on the other side, smiling widely at you.

He greeted you warmly and complimented your dress, giving you a wink as if he knew of your true intentions tonight. You tried to brush it off casually, simply wanting to look nice after so much time has passed. He still smirked at you, turning only to yell loudly to announce your arrival.

You were greeted instantly with shouts, the boys stampeding their way towards you. Changkyun got to you first, bringing you in for a bear hug. Wonho excitedly followed suit, asking you how you’d been and if you’d been taking care of yourself. He was always so attentive to you, it was sweet. Then Hyungwon lingered on a hug with you, taking a moment to compliment your outfit and hair, saying you looked even better than the last time he’d seen you. Shownu softly greeted you and hugged you warmly, a usual greeting for the more reserved man. Kihyun gave you a hug and a small punch to the shoulder, asking why you hadn’t stayed in as much contact with him these past few weeks.

Kihyun was probably one of the closest members to you, obviously other than Jooheon. You think it’s both of your sarcastic natures; they’d usually collide and cause issues between two people but it oddly brought the two of you closer, constantly at each other’s throats but only with care in mind. There was never any malice behind the insults and snarky remarks you’d throw at each other. In the end, it made being at the dorm more welcoming than you’d have ever thought.

You spoke with the others, asking eager questions about their comeback and answering their own ones about what you’d been up to lately.

“Jooheon! Get your ass out here, you’re leaving a very pretty girl waiting!” Minhyuk scared you with a yell, making the others around you snicker.

“If you don’t come out here in the next few seconds, I’ll claim her hyung!” Changkyun spoke up, giving you a smirk and wink that you could only classify as ‘ultra cheesy’. You laughed at the boys, loving their excitable personalities. Not a moment later, Jooheon stepped out in a pair of ripped jeans and tight black shirt that hugged his slowly chiseling physique.

You had to be honest, you’d given Jooheon shit for wanting to diet. Time and time again you told him he was perfectly fine the way he was, that he didn’t need to do anything extreme or needed to change his body. His body literally was normal, no reason to have to starve himself so you always tried to make sure he ate well and took care of himself. But recently you knew that Shownu and Wonho had begun accompanying him to the gym; he told you it was simply for him to get in shape, nothing more. You had your suspicions but after being reassured by the others, you realized he simply wanted to take a healthier lifestyle which required going to the gym more often than he used to. As long as he still took good care of himself, you didn’t mind him going.

But now that you see him in such tight clothes, it made something inside of you stir with something akin to a burning heat, a hot coil tightening in your stomach and heating up your very core.  He wasn’t some built body builder, certainly not a walking mass of muscles. (Not like you liked that anyways, it always grossed you out for some reason. There was such a thing as too many muscles.) But he was clean cut, his arms growing in size with more definition around his biceps and triceps. He’d clearly been taking Wonho’s workout regime if his arms were anything to go by.

But what really got your attention were his thighs. They were being hugged so damn well by his deliciously tight jeans and it made your mouth water to see the muscles clearly marked through the denim. You swore you didn’t have a thing for thighs but you constantly found your eyes glued to Jooheon’s, along with other idol’s.

(Never would you admit to your boyfriend how much you really loved to see the thighs of Jeon Jeongguk, Park Jimin, Jackson Wang and Choi Seungcheol. It’d make him go mad in frenzy of jealousy.)

“Baby! I’m so glad you could come, I missed you so much!” Jooheon approached you with open (and ripped) arms and hugged you tightly, pulling back to kiss you on the cheek. He tried to discreetly check you out, eyes trailing over your beautiful body. You caught his eyes roaming and tried to convey a sense of sexiness with your eyes, hoping he’d get the message.

“Well! We’d love to stick around and mingle but Changkyunnie and I were gonna go play some video games and I think the others have things to do, right?” The boys all nodded and dispersed at Minhyuk’s words, saying how nice it was to see you again. Soon it was just you and Jooheon in the privacy of the living room. You had a little bit of small talk, mostly catching up on how Jooheon was doing and making sure he was still staying healthy. You could hear the boys engaging in their usual roughhousing that came along with playing video games, chuckling at how normal they were despite being internationally known idols.

“Love, you look gorgeous by the way, I don’t think I said that.” Jooheon looked over your figure once more, wishing his pants had a little more give in them. He tried to subtly adjust himself in the constricting pair of jeans but all it did was make you pay more attention to his loins, wanting nothing more than to take a solid bite into their plush flesh. The denim left nothing to your imagination as the fabric hugged taut against the straining muscles.

Jooheon let out a low chuckle, eyes much darker than before and glimmering with mischief. “I can see you’re thinking about me in the same way, my eyes are up here, honey.” His voice was laced with deep-set arousal, the sexual tension doubling in thickness as soon as it was brought to light. It had been too long, longer than you two had gone without so much as a round of phone sex. It was literally driving you mad, no doubt Jooheon feeling the same way or worse—constantly under pounding amounts of stress and work, he needed the relief more than anyone else.

Suddenly the air was too thick for you, snaking its way down your throat and choking you. It was stifling, the surface of your skin becoming clammy and feverish, in a way you knew only Jooheon could remedy. He sensed your aching need and reached for your hand, leading you over to the couch. You mindlessly followed, eyes still glued to the gorgeous muscles of his limbs. He looked back and smiled at your clear intentions and he thought he should treat his good girl well tonight.

Jooheon sat deftly on the couch, the cushions sinking with his weight. While you were about to seat yourself next to him, a pair of hands brought you down swiftly into Jooheon’s lap. You were caught off guard, not expecting for Jooheon to not only be so bold but also so strong. Your hands unconsciously landed at his biceps, feeling the defined muscles under the pads of your fingers. The small circular patterns you mindlessly drew brought shivers to Jooheon’s skin and he growled against you. The sound alone made the fabric of your lace underwear stick to you, the present arousal soaking through the flimsy fabric.

Jooheon sat you over the meat of his thigh, making you straddle one of his thick legs. Out of bare instinct, your ground yourself onto the denim-clad muscle and whimpered at the sweet pressure to put on your clit. This wouldn’t last long, you were on edge for too long now and you’ve been needing a proper release for weeks now. Jooheon seemed to sense this and let his hand hike your dress up over your hips, taking note of the choice of lingerie you had on tonight.

“Perfect, is this all for me?” He asked, fingertips grazing the flesh of your hip and trailing over to the front of your panties, stopping short of where you needed him the most. Unconsciously you still continued to circle your hips against him, needing the friction more than anything else. Biting down on your lip to muffle any noises, a particularly loud sound from one of the adjacent rooms brought you to your senses and out of the lust-driven stupor Jooheon put you in.

“Jooheon wait, the others could hear. Or worse, we could have a repeat of last time.” You shuddered at poor Shownu coming into the bathroom, a mistake on your part for forgetting to lock the door. You’re still so sorry for traumatizing him and making him see someone who he considered like a sister down on her knees with a mouth full of his band mate. It horrified you to this day, worry crossing every feature on your face anytime you had made eye contact with Shownu. It’s one thing to be an exhibitionist; it’s another to taint your friend’s minds.

You tried to reason with him but his grip never faltered, one hand tight against your hip to keep you down on him while the other teased along the very surface of your clit, feather light touches skimming the sensitive bundle of nerves. The barest bit of contact made you lurch, not realizing just how desperate you were.

Finger coming down in harder motions, he assaulted your clit while keeping his eyes glued on your body as it writhed against him, no doubt soaking the fabric of his jeans.

“Damn baby girl that it, ride my thigh. I see how you look at them, it’s pretty hot. Who cares if they see, my baby girl is so good she deserves an audience.” Jooheon praised you as he continued to stroke along your clothed folds, fingers pulling away with a light sheen of your juices staining them. Following his digits, you watched as he took them into his mouth, sucking away the flavor of you off of them. He pulled them out with a pop and chased the taste over his lips with his tongue, smirking at your desperate expression.

Both of his hands returned to your hips and he urged you to continue your movements, slick and suave against him. You surrendered to the pleasure, giving in to the sinful sensations that sent shockwaves that wracked your system. It was everything Jooheon loved to see: you truly enjoying yourself with everything he had to offer all while he had a front row seat. He vaguely wondered what he’d done in another life to deserve someone like you in his life to make his days bright and nights busy.

You gripped at his shoulders, clawing mindlessly as a particularly rough grind stimulated the bundle of nerves and made your insides start to fuzz up; imminent orgasm quickly approaching and ready to rear its head.

“Let go angel, come for me.” Jooheon’s sweet voice tickled along the shell of your ear coupled with his hot breath ghosting over your skin. Finally reaching your high, your tremors broke and you muffled your half-screams in Jooheon’s neck, hoping it’d suffice because you couldn’t hold back any more. Your hips had a mind of their own as they continued to rub back and forth against your boyfriend’s now sticky wet thigh. His jeans were soaked from your release, seeping deep past the denim and going as far as his briefs underneath. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you still registered the small jerks of Jooheon underneath you through your post-orgasmic haze. You let your core receive its last few fleeting brushes before finally submitting to having to get up.

Jooheon whined, not wanting to lose contact with you just yet but then you dropped to your knees in front of him and he shut his open mouth. Seductively gazing from your new position, you let your hands rest at his knees before trailing up slowly. You caught your hands along his chiseled thighs, appreciating the obvious difference in the two; one was dark and sticky with your come while the other was tense and dry. You wondered if they had a mind of their own, would that one be jealous of the one that got to be wedged tight against you?

Finally getting a grip on his dark belt, you quickly made work of the buckle. Jooheon couldn’t hide his excitement, his cock visibly twitching in his jeans from the tantalizing teasing already. You dragged down his zipper maddeningly slow, watching his every move as he reacted to your change of pace. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every dry and desperate gulp he took, trying to simultaneously take in air to his parched lungs all while keeping his tongue from lodging itself into his throat from how heavy and full it felt.  His breathing took a toll, heavy pants and gasps were all he could manage as you finally reached inside his underwear to tug his achingly hard member from its confines. He sighed a much needed breath of relief, free of the denim that began to be more of a prison than anything else.

Figuring he deserved to be treated as well as Jooheon had done with you, no moment was spared as you began lapping at the drooling tip of his length. The action surprised Jooheon and he couldn’t hold back the loud curse the left his bitten-red lips. You pulled away only to place your index finger over your mouth, silently signaling Jooheon to keep quiet. He nodded in understanding as his words weren’t the most trustworthy source of communication at the moment.

One shuddering breath later and you have Jooheon’s cock deep in your mouth, tongue working the hard muscles in vigorous circles. His hand rested at the back of your head while his own was thrown back against the back of the couch. He tried his best to keep his noises at bay but every now and again a groan or whimper would escape and you’d have to pull off to remind him once again. His fingers were threaded in your hair, a gentle but firm guide as you let him put your mouth where he needed it the most.

Nose nestled at the base of his length, you swallowed around his swollen tip and reveled in how the feeling made Jooheon’s thighs firm up under your palms. His robust flavor erupted on your tongue at yet another spurt of pre-come dribbled down his tip and into your mouth. He was getting closer to the edge and you could tell. So you slowly pulled off and placed a gentle grip at the base of his cock. Jooheon keened at the loss of warmth around him, the sudden coolness of the air conditioning making the saliva that coated his length become a shiver-inducing temperature.

You let your eyes meet his—reassuring his faith in you as you silently promised to make him feel good—and began to jerk him off in swift, solid stokes. Every tug made Jooheon shake in your hold, the stimulation becoming something fierce that stoked the burning flame in the pit of his stomach. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, bringing his tip to hover right over the pink of it and you twisted your wrist just right. It triggered Jooheon to come, the uptick of your stroke landing directly at the sensitive part under the head of his cock.

He came in thick ropes, the majority of it landing your outstretched tongue and coating it in white. A few stray droplets spattered on the high of your cheekbones and around your swollen lips. Jooheon gazed in awe as a sense of predatory pride overtook him in the sight of his physical claim on you. Watching you show off your catch before making a scene and swallowing it down made his cock twitch, wishing it could come back for another round much sooner just so he could pound you into the sofa for being so damn sexy.

You felt around for the little bits of come around your face, taking each individual digit into your mouth anytime they’d return with his release on the pads of them. Jooheon finally let his eyelids shut, needing a break from the maddening teasing. You giggled at his reaction, slowly (and very gently as to avoid his overstimulation) tucking him back into his jeans before standing up.

Groaning at the feeling, you rubbed at the soreness that settled in the joints of your knees. Jooheon perked up at the sound and took his turn to laugh, chuckling and motioning for you to seat yourself on his lap.

“I’ll be sure to give your knees a break next time, baby girl.”

You smugly smiled at him as your fingers toyed with his, becoming intertwined as you two began your usual after-sex cuddling and coddling.

“Is that a promise?”

You two shared a laugh before stopping when a door opened only to reveal Minhyuk with his large palm cupping tightly over his eyes.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” He asked, not even waiting for an answer before separating his digits and peeking through the gap between them. Smiling mischievously, he waggled his eyebrows at your position. He practically purred, “Oh, what do we have here? I knew I heard something suspicious but this is juicy.” Kihyun followed out after Minhyuk, beginning to gripe over how the couch was going to stink like sex now and Hyungwon poked his drowsy head out.

“Shut up Kihyun, it’s not like you’d know what sex smells like anyways.” Everyone shared a laugh over Hyungwon’s sassy remark except for Kihyun who immediately turned on his heel to give Hyungwon a good hit. You watched as Hyungwon screamed and bolted back into the room at the sight of a short but still very menacing man coming at him with a hand raised.

If only more of your days could end like this, it’d be heaven. But tomorrow was another day of rehearsals and promotions. You’d no doubt wouldn’t see Jooheon or the rest of them for a few days at minimum and as much as the thought pained you, you were happy to have at least one night to share with them.

You’d make plans to see them as soon as possible after everything is done, wanting to have a proper night alone with Jooheon and toy with the idea of his thighs another time.

[themurphyzone]

His World: Fairy Tale Act 3

Suggested by @arendalphaeagle! And we’re to our last chapter! Thanks for reading!

Part 1

Part 2

Lydia regretted her choice of fairy tale for the third act. She could’ve gone with something familiar like “Sleeping Beauty” or “Thumbelina” but no, she just had to choose a fairy tale that required every single person to appear on the stage at once. 

A surefire recipe for disaster. 

Amanda was dressed in a sparkly magenta dress, a pointed cone with a lightweight cloth at the tip perched on her head. A week ago, she had threatened to withdraw from the play if Lydia didn’t take out the puffed sleeves on her princess costume. Lydia had balked at that, saying she thought puffed sleeves were cute. However, Amanda eventually convinced her that they were terrible for movement and that the left sleeve didn’t hold as much air as the right. 

So no puffy sleeves. It was a shame too. She was secretly hoping they would make a comeback. 

“I like your dress,” Milo blushed, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s purple.” 

“Thanks,” Amanda developed an interest in the stairs leading to the tower where she would be staying for the majority of the act. “Um, I really like your-er, boots.” 

“Remind me to get you a book of compliments,” Lydia tugged on Amanda’s arm, pointing her up the stairs. “Save the lovey-dovey stuff for later.” 

Amanda sputtered. “L-lovey dovey! We were just complimenting each other!” She giggled as Milo kept his eyes locked with hers as she was dragged away. He tripped over his backpack, though the grin never left his face as he toppled backwards, giving a thumbs-up.

“Uh-huh,” Lydia said, unconvinced. “Remember, you can’t laugh until the end of the act!” 

“Fine,” Amanda nodded. “I will not laugh. I am thinking depressing thoughts.” 

“What kind of depressing thoughts?” Lydia asked. 

“Unorganized schedules, the end of the world, and how I have to put up with my mother’s Filipino soap operas,” Amanda said. 

Lydia winced in sympathy. “Yeah. Girl, how do you stand all that noise?”  

“I can’t,” Amanda muttered. She lifted her dress and carefully walked up the stairs to the top of the tower where she was to stay for the last act. “Think you can handle things without me?” 

“Give me more credit. Everything will be just fine,” Lydia smirked, signaling Mort. He nodded and raised the curtain. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we present Act 3: Hans, Who Made the Princess Laugh!” Lydia announced proudly. She was just glad the evening was almost over. 

She had already regretted her choice in fairy tale. Now the regret was directed towards the narrator. 

“Once upon a time, ugh, can we not start with something so cliche?” Bradley groaned. 

“Excuse you, Mr. Sunshine, but I poured blood, sweat, and white chocolate mocha on this script,” Lydia growled. “Stick to it before you get the hook.” 

Bradley scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say. There was once a king with a beautiful daughter, you know, the whole blonde hair and blue eyes deal heroes always have in fairy tales.” 

Chad unfurled a scroll, a crown slipping down his head. “Anyone who can make my somber daughter laugh shall receive half the kingdom and her hand in marriage!” 

Amanda stood motionless in the window, her gaze fixated on the far wall. Zack approached the base of the tower, flashing a grin. “I shall make you laugh, dear princess. A witch, an ogre, and a knight walk into a bar and-” 

Amanda grunted, a gloved hand resting on her cheek in boredom. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one. They’re all equally terrible. Leave.” 

“To nobody’s surprise, this pattern continued for weeks,” Bradley said. “If I was stuck in a tower with nothing but bad jokes from potential suitors, I would be pretty miserable too. The princess remained stoic no matter how many pranks, jokes, and tricks people tried to pull.” 

“I bet I could make her laugh!” Milo exclaimed. 

“Yeah, out of pity,” Bradley shot back. 

The smile didn’t leave Milo’s face. “A pity laugh is still a laugh!” 

Yawning, Bradley paced around the stage as he narrated, ignoring Lydia’s glare. “Hans’ father was reluctant to let him go, since he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Furthermore, the princess had to suffer stupid puns at the hands of the elder brothers. Humor doesn’t exactly run in the family.”

“Please, Father,” Milo begged to Mort. “Allow me to visit the palace so that I may try to make the princess laugh.” 

“Hans, there is no use in trying. It’s a lost cause,” Mort said. 

Bradley coughed. “But because the youngest always wins in these kinds of stories, the father relented and allowed him to go.”

Milo bowed to Chad, unable to laughing at the unnecessary formality. “Is it possible to-heh, sorry-get a job here at the palace? I could fetch water and firewood for the kitchenmaid.”  

Thinking for a moment, Chad nodded. “The extra help would be much appreciated.” They shook on the agreement. 

“The next day, Hans was distracted by a fish while he was out collecting water,” Bradley sighed. “First day on the job and already shirking work.” The fish in question was a singing plastic bass that had been torn from the board. 

As Milo slipped the bass into a bucket, his fingers accidentally brushed a button and it burst into a screechy rendition of Gitchee Gitchee Goo. Lydia silently smacked her forehead with her palm. She knew she forgot to tear out the voice box. 

Melissa carried a model of a golden goose, humming as she passed by Milo. “Excuse me, ma’am,” Milo said cheerfully. “Would you like to trade your golden goose for this lovely fish?” 

“I’d love to,” Melissa smirked. “But this goose’s feathers are coated with a magical substance that makes a person stick fast to it. So be warned.” 

“I get stuck in situations all the time,” Milo shrugged, taking hold of the goose. “No worries!” 

“In that case, he’s all yours,” Melissa said, pulling away. But her hands remained stuck to the goose’s sides. “Lydia, what did you put on this thing?” 

“Superglue,” Lydia replied, realizing her mistake too late. 

“Why?” Bradley rounded on her. “You know Milo plus sticky substances equals catastrophe!” 

“Oops,” Lydia rubbed her head sheepishly. “Mind the audience, Bradley.” 

“Sure,” Bradley grumbled. “Hans continued on like nothing happened, and met another woman who wanted the golden goose for herself. Because walking into a town in the middle of the afternoon while carrying golden poultry surely wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.” 

Crystal waved. “Excuse me, good sir. For how much are you willing to sell the golden goose?” 

“It’s not for sale,” Milo explained. “I’m on a mission to make the princess laugh!” 

“If you’re wasting that valuable piece of waterfowl on a useless mission,you might as well give it to me so I can make some use out of it. A fine price this will fetch!” But when Crystal tried to forcibly snatch the goose, her hands became entangled in the glue as well. “That’s some strong glue.”

“Along came a man who was angry about the woman stealing his goat and-” 

“HOLD IT!” 

Bradley paused in his narration, whipping around to glare at Elliot, whose hair was ruffled from the waterfowl chasing him out of the auditorium. The crossing guard folded his arms. “Sir, if you aren’t part of the cast, I’m gonna have to ask you to vacate the stage immediately,” Lydia ordered. 

“I’m up here because this one of your cast members is clearly in violation of the Safety Czar Pact: Article II, Section 5,” Elliot pointed an accusing finger towards Milo. 

Melissa groaned. “Please tell me he did not just write an official document about his delusions over Milo.” 

“He did not just write an official document about his delusions over me,” Milo repeated. “Though I’m surprised he managed to find the time to do it between helping students cross the street, tracking Murphy’s Law on radar, and attending therapy sessions to get over his anatidaephobia. How are those going by the way, Elliot?” 

“Going well, I think,” Elliot responded. “We’ve moved on to systematic desensitization. I can go within thirty feet of a duck in a cage without freaking out now and-ugh, why am I even telling you this? The Safety Czar Pact: Article II, Section 5 clearly states that anyone with Murphy’s Law cannot carry around models of animals in theaters to prevent incidents in which a live animal mistakes the model for its offspring, mate, rival, or prey.” 

“But Diogee hasn’t mistaken the goose for anything,” Lydia protested, feeling a vein pop in her forehead. “My script doesn’t call for paranoid volunteer crossing guards to interrupt the act, so sit down before I decide to not refund you at all!” 

Elliot threw up his hands. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” As his left hand dropped down, it became stuck to the goose’s head. The color drained out of his face. “Um, what did she use on this thing?” 

“Superglue,” Milo, Melissa, and Crystal chorused. 

Breathing heavily, Elliot turned to Milo. “You are waiting in the back to cross the street from now on, Murphy. If I get out of this alive.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Melissa muttered. 

“After being so rudely interrupted by the village idiot,” Bradley continued despite Elliot’s indignant noise. “the ragtag group slowly made their way back to the palace, where the royal blacksmith also got stuck.”

Zack’s hand laid close to Crystal’s. She couldn’t hide her blush. “There better be a plan to get us unstuck from this mess,” Zack muttered. 

They stopped at the tower’s base. “Princess, I’ve come to make you laugh!” Milo shouted. 

Amanda’s giggles turned into full blown laughter. “I’ve found my future husband!” she called. 

Milo blushed. “So you wouldn’t mind marrying me even if I’m stuck with the rest of these guys?” 

Stifling her laughter for a moment, Amanda grinned. “Nope!” 

“Hans indeed received half the kingdom and the princess’ hand in marriage. And they got married and lived happily ever after. Good. We’re done here,” Bradley finished. 

“And that concludes Fairy Tale!” Lydia declared. “Come on out and take a bow everybody!” 

Everyone who wasn’t stuck to the model kept their distance as they bowed to the audience, who stood up and clapped enthusiastically. Lydia looked up, letting out a sigh of relief when she heard some people whistle and shout encouragement. 

“So Lydia, what’s your next play going to be?” Amanda asked. 

Lydia sighed in exhaustion. “It’s gonna be about an aspiring playwright and actress who take a break from this mess for a while.” 

“Sounds like a good plot!” Milo laughed. Diogee popped out of the back with Milo’s backpack in his mouth. He set it in front of his owner, rummaging around for something. A small spray bottle rolled out, and Zack picked it up with his free hand, coating the model in the liquid until everyone’s hands came loose. 

The model clattered to the floor and broke, Diogee leaping upon the neck and shaking his head furiously as he growled it. 

“I told you kids it was a violation,” Elliot said smugly. “I’ll have to-NOT AGAIN!” 

“I changed my mind. He is not getting that refund,” Lydia said, calmly watching the grand finale of Elliot running away from yet another duck. 

“Does anyone else feel like something’s missing?” Chad asked. 

The curtain crashed behind them, completely destroying the sets from the previous acts. 

“That’s more like it,” Milo said. “Guess we all broke our legs today! Talking in the theater sense of course. That would be bad if someone broke their leg literally.” 

Lydia was just glad the auditorium was still standing. 

And that’s the end of this story!