#the guy who ripped the soles off every pair of shoes they made him wear

[rozzwil]

Finally got around to doing the hair meme for Ishavun Lavellan! 

[missaudreyhorney]

Afterschool Special

Again, I am shocked and delighted that people are enjoying the beginning of this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it. I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words and encouragement. In this third installment, Hopper and Reader get to spend some “alone time” together. That’s all I’m going to say about it 😊

Content warnings: Rated M for more age gap, Daddy kink, physical intimidation, over the clothes touching, and a new addition of under the clothes kissing. Female Reader, modern AU, 2.5k words.

You call Jim Hopper on Monday afternoon in between classes. His voice is even deeper and sexier over the phone than you remember it sounding the night before. He seems happy to hear from you and you try to hide how giddy you are about it. Sensing that the attraction between you two is very mutual, you don’t hesitate to set up a meeting. He tells you that he has Wednesday off from work, and for a second, you seriously consider ditching all your classes to spend the entire day with him. Instead, you agree to meet up at his house at four o’clock, which gives you enough time to go home and change after school.

Normally on a date, you would prefer to wear a dress but the winter chill in the February air sadly prevents that. Hopefully you won’t feel out of place wearing a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans to wherever it is he wants to take you.

The address he gave seems to be out in the middle of nowhere and multiple times you wonder if the GPS navigation is telling you to go in the wrong direction. Eventually, you find the place and it’s not so much a house as it is a cabin in the woods. It almost looks abandoned except for his car parked out front.

Any misgivings you have about the place are dispelled when you see Hopper standing on the porch and smoking as he waits for you. All your friends complain about guys who smoke, and that they hate the smell, but not you. You think it’s sexy and you even enjoy the smell.

A smile spreads across his handsome face when he sees you and it gets wider when you step out of the car. “Come on in, sweetheart,” he greets you with a white cloud billowing out from his mouth.

Anticipation rushes through your veins. When you last saw each other, and when you spoke on the phone, there seemed to be a promise of more, a promise to finish what he started when he came up to your room. You know that something will happen today, you’re just not sure how or when.

Once you reach the top of the steps, he says “It’s open. I’ll be in in a minute” as the unfiltered cigarette dangles between his lips.

Opening the door slowly, you let yourself in then put your purse down and look around. The cabin is…rustic. None of the furniture matches. Some of it looks to be as old as you are. There’s a decent red sofa but it’s covered in a patchwork quilt. There’s a plaid chair against the wall and it too has a blanket draped across the top, one that’s knitted or perhaps crocheted. The only things to indicate that you haven’t arrived here in a time machine are the flat screen tv on the wall and a new Apple computer on an old wooden desk.

Hopper steps into the room a moment later. “Why don’t you take your coat off and stay awhile?” He touches your back as he walks past you to go into the kitchen.

“Oh, um, okay.” You suppose he wants to talk a little bit or perhaps finish something up before you leave. Hanging your coat up on the rack, you notice a small pair of tennis shoes on the floor. “Do you live here alone?”

“No, my daughter lives here with me.”

His daughter? Gosh, Hopper really is a DILF. You follow him into the kitchen and your brain starts to connect some dots. “Is she the reason why you left so suddenly on Sunday night?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says as he takes an ice tray out of the freezer.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad it wasn’t your wife.”

“Oh no, I’ve been divorced for a long time now,” he assures you.

Your eyes roam over Hopper’s large frame while you watch him pop the cubes out of the tray and fill it back up again. He’s wearing jeans and a blue flannel shirt, with the top two buttons undone, and a navy henley underneath. His scent of cigarettes and soap makes it seem as if he must have smoked immediately after getting out of the shower.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea of ripping his clothes off right here and now, forgoing any previous plans you might have for your date. That’s where you’re hoping this will all lead anyway so what’s wrong with cutting to the chase?

In an attempt to restrain yourself, you bring up the one subject that will take your mind out of the gutter. “How did you meet my parents?”

“They brought one of their cars to my shop. I’m a mechanic.”

The attempt proves feeble as your mouth instantly begins to water at the mental image of Jim Hopper bending over the engine of a car, sticking out his cute butt in his Wrangler jeans, his hands and his face getting all dirty and sweaty.

“Can I make you a drink?” he offers, getting a glass off the shelf. “You are old enough to drink, right?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m old enough.”

“I don’t have to check your ID, do I?” He winks at you and it’s as charming as it is corny.

“You can if you want to,” you respond.

“No, I believe you.” He opens a bottle of Jack Daniels and lifts it above his glass.

“Wait, you’re making a drink now? When are we gonna go?”

He puts the bottle on the counter. “Go where?”

“Is this it?” you ask, slightly stunned.

“Is what it?” Deep ridges form on Hopper’s forehead as he raises his eyebrows in irritation.

“I thought we were going to go on a date,” you explain.

His features soften as he chuckles at you. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He gleefully pours the whiskey into his glass.

“So we’re just going to stay here and…?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a smug grin. “We are.”

Suddenly your idea of tearing his clothes off seems like it would be more welcomed than you had anticipated.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, getting himself a can of Coke out of the refrigerator.

“I’ll have a water.”

Hopper pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to you. “You know this was your idea, right? You didn’t mention anything on the phone about a date.”

“I know, I guess I...assumed we’d go out.” You take a much-needed sip.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he offers in a considerably softer tone than you’ve heard from him thus far.

“No,” you smile at him. “I want to stay.”

He smiles back at you then takes a drink.

“It just would have been nice if you took me out somewhere,” you remark before raising the bottle to your lips again.

“Why beat around the bush? We both already know what we want.” He takes another drink then sets his glass down. “Unless of course, you want us to be seen together,” he adds, moving directly in front of you, with mere centimeters between your bodies.

Your heart starts racing as Hopper glares down at you with a storm churning in his deep blue eyes.

”Maybe you want people to look at us and know that I’m twice your age.” He leans in closer, backing you into the corner of the wooden counter. “Maybe you want to hear them say ‘what’s that dirty old man doing with that beautiful young girl?’” He enunciates every word in a biting tone as if he’s scolding you.

Your bodies are so close together that you can actually feel the heat radiating off of him.

“If that’s what you want, I can take you anywhere. We can leave right now,” he offers in a slightly more casual voice. “I just don’t see any point in wasting time when it’s so obvious what you came here for.”

“What’s that?” you accidentally say in a whisper.

Hopper takes a step back from you. “Go in the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

With a deep inhalation, you slip away from him and run out of the kitchen then immediately run back. “Which one is your bedroom?” you almost shout.

“The one on the left,” he answers, trying not to laugh at your over the top enthusiasm.

You pull the curtain in the doorway so hard that it feels like it might rip away from the rod. Yanking your sweater above your head, you kick off your shoes at the same time.

Lying back on the bed, you can feel how wet he’s already made you. Your body is practically vibrating with excitement as you hear the heavy steps of his boots as he approaches. A shiver runs through you when he enters the room.

“Where were we?” Hopper asks, kneeling onto the foot of the bed.

“You were on top of me,” you recall.

“Uh-huh,” he nods, positioning himself between your open legs.

“And I think you were going to unhook my bra?”

He runs his hands under your t-shirt and up the sides of your body. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I thought we could skip that part.”

He pulls your shirt up over your chest. “Good thinking.”

Without missing a beat, his lips are on your breasts, kissing both of them with his warm, wet, open mouth. Your left nipple hardens as Hopper swirls his tongue around it, making you push your hips into him. His lips close around the bud and begin to suck.

“Oh, Daddy,” you moan, using the title with no regret this time.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he pauses long to speak then immediately begins sucking on your other nipple.

Just like on Sunday, his mouth is rough. Not solely the texture of his scruffy beard against your soft skin, but the ferocity with which he sucks on you and teases you with his teeth. Also just like Sunday, he moves his hand in between your thighs and pushes his palm against the center seam of your jeans.

You hiss when he bites down hard into your flesh, clearly not holding back this time. It’s an exquisite pain that you could easily become addicted to. Your fingernails claw at his shirt when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

Hopper is working you into a frenzy with the way his hand presses into your jeans, rubbing your pussy through the denim. All the different sensations he’s causing in your body are starting to become too much and you need a release.

“Daddy, please,” you beg breathlessly.

Your nipple pops out from between his lips with a vulgar sound. “Please what?”

You’re unable to answer him as your mouth is too busy moaning while his hand brings back that familiar ache.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he instructs between licks.

“Your f-” you interrupt yourself with another moan. “Your fin-”

“You want my fingers inside you, is that it?” Hopper asks as you grind your crotch into his palm, desperate for all the friction you can get.

“Yes, Daddy!” you finally manage to force out two coherent words.

He unbuttons your jeans and you hear a noise coming from the living room. You both ignore it while he ever so slowly starts to pull down your zipper. Until you hear another noise. Not a noise actually. A voice. Two voices.

Hopper’s hands fall from the zipper, landing on your sides, while his head sinks down in defeat. Your body tenses with worry that whoever it is might come into the room as there’s no door to keep them out.

The two young voices are arguing about something but your brain is far too preoccupied to be able to comprehend the subject of the argument. The only thing you can manage to infer in your current state is that it must be his daughter and one of her friends from school.

Hopper gets up from the bed, leaving your chest fully exposed, and you tug your shirt back down. He has you throbbing with need, and exactly like the last time, your hopes for satisfaction have been quickly dashed by an intrusive family member.

When he goes into the living room to mediate the situation, you sit up and see something on his nightstand that you were in too much of a rush to notice before. Magnum XL condoms, not one but three, the edges of the gold foil still attached to each other.

“For Pete's sake, what’s going on out here?” Hopper demands above the sound of their bickering.

“Mike was staring at Stacey Albright,” his daughter explains.

“No, I wasn’t!” the boy interjects.

“Who’s Stacey Albright?” Hopper asks.

“A girl at our school who stuffs her bra,” she answers.

“She does not stuff her bra,” the boy disputes.

“How do you know that if you weren’t staring?” she raises her voice.

“I was not staring!” the boy yells back.

“Both of you calm down, alright? Jesus.”

Hopper opens the curtain, walks in, and closes it behind him. “Listen, I’m sorry but I gotta-” he begins to apologize in a dejected tone.

“No, I understand,” you reply, cutting him off as you stand up from the bed before pulling on your sweater and shoes. “I should go.”

When you turn to walk out of the room, he grabs onto your upper arms. He doesn’t mean to startle you, it happens solely by accident because he’s so strong. “Look at me,” he suggests, trying to get you to make eye contact.

You gaze up into his gorgeous blue eyes and he starts to smile.

“I still want to see you again,” he says warmly.

“Me too,” you agree, reciprocating his smile.

The kids resume their argument and Hopper rolls his eyes. “Please call me,” he adds before letting go of you.

“I will,” you confirm.

You open the curtain and both of the kids’ mouths fall silent as they watch you emerge from the bedroom. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen-years-old. The girl has brown eyes, long brown hair, and the most perfect skin you’ve ever seen on a teenager. She forces an awkward smile to be polite. The boy is tall and pale, with sharp cheekbones and curly black hair like a rockstar from the ’70s. He glances back and forth between you and Hopper with a confused expression on his face.

“This is my daughter, Elle,” Hopper introduces.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you say back, your voice sounding squeaky with nerves.

“And her boyfriend, Mike,” Hopper continues.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Elle corrects.

“What? That’s not fair!” Mike exclaims.

They start bickering once more and you shoot Hopper a sympathetic look as you grab your coat and purse then slip out the front door. It feels like the universe is conspiring against the two of you, trying to keep you from having sex with each other, like a cosmic cockblock. As you drive away from the cabin, you silently pray that the next time will provide the relief you’re yet again so desperate for.

Tagging: @t-u-m-s @girlwiththenegantattoo @ottosuricato @im-not-great-at-making-up-names @misshawkins1993 @emilyyblackkk @hopperlover @kingphillipblake @kate110199 @david-harbour-arg @manawhaat @helena-mrs-murder​ @zombiesnips-blog​ @chiefharbour​ @flamehairedwritings​ @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @strawberry-fields-f0rever​ @mrs-geuse​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged. 

Image credit: HarbourSource on Instagram

[ruzek-halstead]

dead of night

pairing: luke patterson x julie molina

written based on prompt:

"it’s three am, in the dead of winter, some idiot pulled/set off the fire alarm and i am being very vocal about how i’m gonna make that dumbass pay"

university au

masterlist || ao3 || twitter profiles

       When Julie heard the blaring alarm blasting throughout the room, she nearly cried.

It was midterm season, and she had been up late until two a.m. cramming for her exam later that day. She wasn't one to normally rely on cramming as her sole source of studying, but she had a paper due the previous day and another midterm the day before. She could only focus on one thing at a time. It pained her though, because Julie was a meticulous planner. She liked to have everything written down on a calendar and lay out a set number of dedicated time she would have to work on each assignment.

Nothing went as planned this time.

She had finally dragged herself to bed at around 2:15 a.m., with a set alarm for early in the morning to go over her notes some more. She never actually woke up on time for these said alarms, but it was the effort that counted. At least, that's what she constantly told herself.

It felt like she had only been asleep for all of twenty minutes when she was suddenly being ripped away from her REM sleep, and she was ready to kill someone.

"What the hell?" Julie hissed, throwing her duvet off her body violently. She could see her roommate Flynn (and best friend - they'd known each other since diapers) pulling on her shoes. Julie checked her phone from the bedside table and noted the time was now 3:26 a.m. She'd hardly been asleep for an hour.

Flynn opened their room door and was met with a number of their fellow students moving rapidly throughout the hallway. "Oh shit," she muttered, turning back to Julie. "Jules, get your ass out here. I'm not sure this is a drill."

Julie let out a loud groan, threw on her pair of black converse and booked it out the door after Flynn. She didn't even have time to grab a sweater like Flynn did, and only realized when she was halfway out the building, she was wearing a NYU short sleeve t-shirt and a pair of thin leggings.

"Someone better be on fire," she growled under her breath. She and Flynn were huddled together off to the side, trying not to freeze their asses off. New York was known for their particularly cold winters; it was mid-November, and this was no exception. The ground was littered with a light dusting of snow, and every time Julie breathed, she could see her breath.

She had never felt the urge to commit a felony such as murder until this moment.

Julie was so angry, she didn't notice the cluster of students hanging off to their right. She only noticed when she picked up on something particularly interesting one of them said.

"For the love of god, Luke!" The tall, blonde one yelled (Julie thought he was trying to whisper, but he obviously failed miserably). He also hit the shaggy-haired brunette (she assumed that was Luke) upside the head. "Dude, you set off the fire alarm! Our whole residence is outside in the snow!"

Julie's eyes widened and her grip on Flynn's arm tightened. Flynn groaned, absentmindedly shrinking closer to the ground.

"Alex's right. That guy's not even wearing pants!" The other brunette piped in, pointedly avoiding looking at the student in question. All three boys were dressed appropriately; pants, sweaters and beanies. Almost as if this was planned or something.

It only made Julie's blood boil even hotter.

Luke rolled his eyes, latching onto the third boys' shoulder. "Relax, Reggie. It was an accident."

"They're going to eat you alive if they find out," Alex added sassily. "I'll help them. You screwed up my beauty sleep, bro."

Luke snorted. "What beauty sleep?"

"Don't test me right now!" Alex snapped. "You know what this dry cold does to my skin!"

Luke nodded with a pout, seemingly sympathetic. "Stop being such a baby and live a little! This is sort of hilarious."

Reggie bit his lip and averted his eyes from Alex, who looked like he was about to rip his own hair out. "Dude, I'm going to strangle you if you don't stop talking."

"Oh my god," Julie hissed at Flynn. "Are you hearing this? These idiots did this because they're idiots! What the hell?"

Flynn chanced a look behind them, surveying the three boys. "Hmm, they're kind of cute," she said without thinking. Julie was quick to throw her murderous glare in her direction. "Wait no — that came out wrong..."

"I'm going to kill him."

Flynn had to grab Julie's arm and yank her back.

"Julie! I don't have the money to bail you out of jail right now! Don't do me like this!"

Julie huffed. "I have to say something. I have an exam later and I should be sleeping!"

"Just no felonies, okay?" Flynn pleaded with puppy dog eyes. Julie conceded with a nod.

Whirling around, Julie marched up to 'Luke' and tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around and the smile he was sporting dropped from his lips; now he just looked confused. "Uh — can I help you?"

"Probably not," she started bitterly, "but I just happened to overhear that you're the idiot who pulled the fire alarm and I would genuinely like to know what in the hell would possess you to do such a thing on a fucking Tuesday during midterms?"

Julie was now yelling and Luke looked like a terrified deer in headlights.

His friends were holding onto each other with wide eyes.

"Uh — well —" He stammered on embarrassingly.

"Some of us have shit to do! I have a midterm in a few hours and instead of sleeping, I'm stuck out here with you and believe me, I'm trying really hard not to punch you in the throat right now."

Luke blinked, his mouth opening and closing because he didn't know what he could possibly say to make this situation better.

Alex did, however.

"Do it," Alex blurted, "punch him!"

Luke whirled around, looking affronted. "Dude!"

"Don't 'dude' me," Alex sassed. "You deserve it."

Luke turned back to face Julie with a newly apologetic expression as he tried to explain himself. "Listen," he started and by the furious look on her face, he could already tell it was the wrong thing to say. "Shit, I'm sorry! I just — I swear, this was all a misunderstanding. I really didn't mean to do it; it just happened."

"Buddy," Reggie leaned in to whisper in his ear. "This doesn't sound nearly as good as you think it does."

Luke rolled his eyes, pushing his friend back into Alex. "I'm sorry; what can I do to make this better?" For the first time since she started yelling at him, he actually looked at her.

She looked absolutely exhausted and it only made Luke feel guiltier. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her glasses were low on the bridge of her nose. He took note of her outfit and the thin t-shirt; she was obviously freezing and the goosebumps on her arms proved that. Immediately, he shrugged out of his hoodie.

"Um — here, take this," he shoved his NYU hoodie in her direction. She looked down at with furrowed brows, and then back at him. Her glare was still in full force, and Luke admired her ability to look so angry, but so adorable at the same time. "It's the least I can do."

Julie looked down at the sweater again, scoffed in annoyance and walked away.

Flynn was holding back a laugh as she made eye contact with Luke. He looked exasperated as he hobbled after Julie.

"Wait! Just — hold on a second!"

Julie didn't feel like stopping for him and her angry speed-walking was finally sending some blood back into her arms. When Luke grabbed her arm to spin her around, she turned to him with a ferocious glare. "Shit — okay, sorry," he dropped her arm sheepishly, "should've asked. I'm sorry. I just — please, take this."

Once again, he offered her his grey hoodie.

She really wanted to stand her ground and make a point. But she was genuinely freezing, and her pride could only control so much. With a sigh, she grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over her head. It fit baggy, but it was so warm and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. She didn't even notice that this now left Luke in a measly t-shirt.

"Again, I'm really sorry," he apologized again, biting his lip. "You have a midterm later today and this was so stupid of me."

Julie took a deep breath; she felt calmer now. Probably because she had already yelled at him, and she was tired and she didn't have the energy to stay annoyed for much longer. Plus, he had already apologized like six times.

"It's fine. I may have overreacted a little bit."

Luke chuckled nervously. "No, you definitely didn't. I've always been told I'm a little — uh, reckless."

"And I guess I've been told I'm a bit uptight," she admitted. Julie had no idea why she was being so honest with a guy who's head she bit off five minutes ago; but he had really beautiful eyes, like puppy dog eyes and she couldn't help but get sucked in. "I'm Julie, by the way."

"Yeah?" He was suddenly hyper aware of how gorgeous she was and for the first time, she wasn't glaring at him. Holy shit, was she making googly eyes at him? "I mean — we can always treat that. I happen to know a few rascally boys that can help."

Julie let out a gentle laugh. God, this night really got away from her. She could see the firefighters start to exit the building, seemingly finding no sign of a fire and any other issue. "I think I'm hardwired like that, unfortunately."

The students around them slowly started filing back into the building and Luke realized he only had a few minutes left. "Um, well — again, I'm sorry. And I hope your midterm goes well." He originally intended to ask for her number, but of course, that's what came out instead.

"Thanks," she replied softly, thumbing at the sleeves of his sweater. "I can wash this sweater and get it back to you."

Julie gave him an opening and he knew it.

"Of course. Is it alright if we exchange numbers?"

Julie was surprised at the warmth that immediately spread through her chest. She could also feel the smile stretching across her lips through no effort of her own. "Yeah, that'd be great," she responded, "as long you promise not to wake me up at an ungodly time of the morning."

"No?" Luke raised an eyebrow, shooting her a smirk. He could see the fire in Julie's eyes and he knew the feeling was mutual. "But I thought that was our thing."

"If that's the case, our thing will also be me punching you in the throat."

x

i wanted to make julie sassier and make luke work for it a bit more but i got tired and i really wanted to post this asap so i kinda wrapped it up early. i hope it still ended okay???

[ericsonclan]

A Slippery Surprise

Summary: Louis and the others planned something extra special for A.J.'s birthday.

Word Count: 2310

Read on AO3:

“Can I open them now?” A.J. asked, his brows furrowing as he continued walking along the corridor in total darkness, his only anchor Louis’ voice.

“In just a second, kiddo. We just gotta round the corner and then we’ll be there,”

A.J. nodded. He trusted Louis completely, but the ten-year-old was at an utter loss as to where they were. He thought he knew the school like the back of his hand, but after following Louis through hall after hall with his eyes shut, he felt as though they were covering ground he’d never touched before, parts of the school that had been locked away and left for years.

Suddenly Louis’ footsteps stopped and AJ followed suit. “Alright, A.J., you ready for the best birthday surprise in the history of mankind?”

A.J. nodded eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Now!”

As A.J.’s eyes opened, quickly adjusting to the dim light, he could see they were standing in front of an open doorway and that Clementine, Willy and Prisha stood along the sides of it. Smiling at them all, A.J. began to look around for his present, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Where was it? The room in front of him seemed to be an empty classroom. All the desks and furniture were moved out long ago, only the chalkboard and random faded pieces of paper remaining on the walls. That wasn’t much of a surprise. But there was something different about the floor. It was shining, cold… “Ice?”

“Perhaps the surprise will make a bit more sense if I give you these as well,” Grabbing a parcel from Clementine, Louis placed it in the hands of the young boy.

A.J. ripped the wrapping off quickly, tossing it aside. In his hands were a pair of white shoes with black soles. Along the bottom of them were metal blades that had a smooth edge. A.J.’s nose wrinkled in thought as he tried to figure out what exactly they were for. A chuckle from Clementine drew his eyes to her.

“Try them on, kiddo. Then step into the room. But be careful,”

Following her instructions, A.J. sat down upon the floor and began to remove his shoes to put on the others. From the looks on everyone’s faces, they seemed excited for what was to come. With the skates on, A.J. struggled to his feet, needing some help from Willy and Louis as he wobbled. Looking to Clementine to make sure he was still doing this right, A.J. was heartened when she smiled and nodded. Now for the last step. Stepping onto the ice. Holding onto Willy’s hand and leaning against the taller teen for support, A.J. placed one foot upon the ice and then the other. Willy let go… and A.J.’s feet began to glide on their own.

A.J. looked down at his feet in wonder, watching them slide across the ice effortlessly. Turning back to look at the others, he smiled. “They move on their own!”

“It’s called ice skating, kiddo!” Louis replied with a grin. “Try moving your legs – you’ll go even faster!”

Taking Louis’ advice, A.J. moved his legs. Immediately his speed increased, the blades on the special shoes curving round on the ice. His audience applauded, all of them smiling happily as they watched A.J. circle the classroom. “This is amazing!” A.J. exclaimed, speeding up even more.

“A.J., wait-” Clementine’s protest was cut short as the toe of one of A.J’s blades caught the ice and the boy was flung forward, wiping out on the floor.

“Shit! You okay, buddy?” Louis asked, shimmying his way across the room to help A.J. up. Clementine hurried over as well, taking A.J.’s other arm.

“There��s a bit of a learning curve when it comes to ice skating,” Prisha observed as she glided across the ice toward them. A.J. noticed that she was also wearing bladed shoes, though unlike his hers seemed to be attached to the outside of her regular shoes.

Willy zoomed over beside her, stopping with a little twirl. “Prisha and I have been practicing on the home-made skates for a week now! We wanted to make sure we got the rink right before we shared it with you,”

“You made this?” A.J. asked, looking upon the shining floor and then them with admiration. “You guys can really make anything!”

Prisha smiled happily at the praise. “Louis was the one who came up with the idea and Clementine tracked down the skates. Then Willy and I worked to execute it. It took a tarp and some plastic scaffolding to keep the water in place and make sure it lay flat, but then it was merely a matter of flooding the room using the hoses from the pool and waiting for it to freeze,”

“Now that you’ve seen your surprise, everybody can join in!” Willy exclaimed, spreading his arms out excitedly. “We told the others to come as well so that way everyone gets a turn with the skates!”

“But as the birthday boy, those are yours to keep, bud,” Louis placed a hand on A.J.’s shoulder and smiled down at him fondly.

A.J. glanced down at his blades then looked back up at Louis. “Can you join me in skating? Please, please, please?”

“Definitely! I’ll just need to borrow some skates…”

“You can have mine,” Prisha offered, skating back toward the doorway. “We only have the two pairs of skates that we’ve crafted so far, and the other used pairs are meant for children’s feet, so you’ll be far too large,”

As Prisha and Louis were busy with the skates, the two newest members of Ericson showed up. “Wowee!” Renata exclaimed, sticking her head through the door and letting out an impressed whistle. “That’s quite the rink you’ve made!”

“Allison!” Willy exclaimed, zooming over excitedly. “Want to try my skates out? I can help you get used to them and then you’ll fly across the ice!”

Allison looked upon the skates with skepticism, then back up at Willy’s excited, earnest face. Shrugging, she gave a small nod. Willy let out a yelp of joy and immediately got to work taking off his skates to give to Allison.

A.J. looked towards Clementine. “Clem, are you gonna be able to skate too?”

Before Clementine could answer, Louis cut in, skating forward. “There is in fact a pair of skates that fit the lovely Clementine’s dainty feet,” He bowed dramatically, offering up a worn out pair of white skates.

His wife smiled at the gesture, fondly rolling her eyes before taking them. After taking a minute to get the skates on she was ready and all three were skating round the room arm in arm.

“This is the best!” A.J. exclaimed, happily tucked in between Louis and Clementine.

Willy and Allison had also made it out onto the ice, Willy without skates but happily jogging beside Allison as she skated forward. She seemed fairly steady but every time she flinched or paused Willy had his arms out, ready to break her fall. Those were the only moments that Willy’s non-stop dialogue was temporarily paused before he launched right back into his stories, Allison listening and nodding along to them. Meanwhile Prisha and Renata were chatting comfortably while watching from the doorstep.

“Will you look at that!” a familiar voice exclaimed. Ruby and Aasim had joined the group, each with a sleeping baby strapped to their chests. Ruby’s eyes twinkled as she took in the rink. “Look at the way it sparkles! Why, I haven’t been ice skating since I was just a teeny little thing!”

“Would you like to try now?” Prisha lifted up a pair of skates. “I believe these would fit you,”

Ruby looked down at Maisy, sleeping peacefully upon her chest.

“I can take her too,” Prisha suggested.

“And I can take Zach if you want to skate too, Aasim,” Renata offered.

The couple shared a look before nodding. The swap was made and soon the pair was out on the ice, Ruby on skates while Aasim strolled beside his wife.

“So this is what you’ve been so secretive about these past few weeks,” Violet’s voice caused Prisha to turn round with a smile, bouncing Maisy softly as she spoke.

“I figured it would be best to surprise as many people as possible. And I didn’t want to disappoint in case we weren’t able to get the plan to work,”          

“Looks like it worked out perfectly,” Violet observed. The rink was quite full now, the groups intermingling and twirling round each other as they skated. Louis tried to do a fancy twirl only to fall on his butt much to A.J. and Clementine’s amusement while Willy was spinning Allison round in circles as fast as she could go.

“Woo! Go, Allie!” Renata cheered, her smile bright as she watched the pair having fun. She looked around the room, then back out to the hallway. “Hey, where’s Omar? He’s the only one we’re missing, right?”

“He said he had a surprise of his own and that he’d be here in a minute,” Violet replied.

Ruby and Aasim came back over to the doorway. Ruby shot Violet a smile. “Vi, would you like a turn? I bet your feet would fit. I just got an idea for how to turn this rink into a total winter wonderland! Just gotta grab a few things,” Not waiting for an answer, she handed over the skates to Violet and bustled off down the hall, dragging Aasim behind her.

Violet stared dumbly at the skates in her hands.

“If you’d like, I could go out on the ice with you,” Prisha offered. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall if that’s what has you concerned,”

“��OK,” Violet sat down to put on her skates before looking up in realization. “Wait, who’s gonna take Maisy though?”

“That would be me,” Omar’s calming voice came from behind them, causing all three girls to turn round. Omar was standing beside his cauldron which was safely nestled atop the wheelbarrow he’d been given for his own birthday. From inside the cauldron, the smell of apples arose. “Thought I’d try my hand at apple cider this year. Take as much as you want – there’s plenty,”

The smell quickly drew the attention of the others, leading to a crowd round the doorway to the rink. Once everyone had their bowls of cider they dispersed again and Omar was handed Maisy while Prisha and Violet took to the ice hand in hand. Ruby and Aasim returned with paper, scissors and chalk and after a quick cider break they also took to the ice, though instead of skating their focus was on decorations: paper snowflakes and winter illustrations all across the blackboard.

Coming off the ice, A.J., Louis and Clementine removed their skates then settled in for second helpings of apple cider. Maisy had begun to stir and was taken by Clementine who gently rocked her daughter in her arms until she drifted off to sleep again. Taking seats along the far wall, the three sipped their apple cider and chatted happily while watching the continued fun on the rink.

Renata had switched off with Willy, going on the ice with Allison while Willy happily bounced Zachariah in his arms and chatted with Omar. Violet and Prisha skated together now that Louis had returned Prisha’s skates, the two of them gliding round the ice hand in hand before pausing from time to time to share a quick kiss. The room was covered in paper snowflakes now and the whiteboard had illustrations of snowmen, angels and Christmas trees from one end to the other.

“Well, little man, how did we do?” Louis asked, grinning at A.J. and ruffling his hair.

A.J. wrinkled his nose at the “little” part Louis still insisted on attaching to the nickname, but grinned nonetheless. “It was awesome! Best birthday ever!”

Clementine chuckled. “Wow, best ever? We’ll have a hard time topping it next year!”

“Good thing we have a year to plan then,” Louis quipped, winking at his wife.

A.J. looked between the pair and smiled over at Maisy asleep in Clementine’s arms. He watched all the fun happening inside the rink as well. Everyone was here, celebrating together and having fun. And the fun didn’t have to end today either; Willy had told him the rink would probably last till spring. This was the best possible present he could ever think of. He was itching to get back on the ice again. “I’m gonna go again – be back later!” With that he was off, scurrying back onto the frozen wonderland.

Louis and Clementine shared a knowing smile before snuggling close together, Louis’ arm wrapping protectively round his wife and child. “We done good, Clem,” Louis said with mock solemnity before his characteristic smile pulled at his lips once more.

“That we did,” Clementine rested her head upon her husband’s shoulder, happily watching the winter scene before them. “He’s growing up so fast,”

“Ah, he’s still a kid,” Louis observed, watching as A.J. let Allison and Renata swing him round and round. “And this? This is a memory he’ll never forget,”

“You’re right,” Clementine smiled as she saw the fun A.J. and the others were having. “You want to join in again soon?”

“Wild horses couldn’t hold me back,”

With that the couple got to their feet, heading over to wait their turn to get back on the ice. And so the festivities continued, the first of many days that were sure to be spent upon the Ericson ice rink.

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 18

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 18 - Bad Company

Sinead sat down in the belly of the Razor Crest, turning the Loovrian emblem over and over, as if she just turned it for long enough, it would somehow give her the answer she needed. She should be angry. She wanted to be angry, but all she felt was a numbness, cold and empty as the void that hurtled past outside the ship.

The quiet of the ship was only broken up by the hum from the engine and the occasional sound from the child who slept in his crib.

The emblem was heating up between her fingers. She ran a thumb across one of the force pikes, gnawing at her lip. A small but insistent thought kept popping up, unbidden: what if that little emblem had stayed hidden on Celvalara and they'd never gone to Loovria. Would the trail have gone cold? Would she have kept searching until finally one day she'd just give up? Hand over the whip to Mando for service rendered and just ... stopped?

Her long train of thought was shattered when someone cleared their throat. Mando stood by the ladder to the cockpit, fiddling with his gauntlet. They hadn't talked since Seavo. Her little outburst made her toes curl in embarrassment.

"I, uh ..." his voice was rougher than usual. "I know someone who might have information on Vekkass."

Sinead slipped the emblem into her pocket and sat up straighter. "Who?"

"He's a former ... associate. Works out of a station in the Tammuz sector."

Associate was a carefully neutral word and could really mean anything. Still, it wasn't like they had anything better to go on.

"It's not Guild," he said, interpreting her silence as reluctance. "And we're running low on credits. Ship's nearly out of fuel."

She hadn't even noticed that, too caught up in her own thoughts. "Sure. Why not," she said and let her eyes wander to the sleeping kid, who made a little gurgling sound at the back of his throat.

Mando stayed there, his head slightly tilted to the side like he wanted to say something. The silence stretched out between them, neither one wanting to break it. At last, Mando nodded once and climbed up the ladder, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She pulled out the emblem and started turning it.

... ... ... ... ...

The ship dropped out of hyperspace with a lurch and a dull boom. Straight ahead the space station was a small blinking light amidst the stars, easy to miss unless you knew what you were looking for. Sinead breathed out, her stomach already in knots of nerves.

"You should stay in the ship," Mando said, not taking his eyes off the slowly approaching station.

"Why? I thought you knew these people."

He sighed and was quiet for a couple of seconds. "Ran and I used to work together. A long time ago. He always kept an eye on the underworld."

She leaned further into her seat, trying to dispel the still growing feeling of foreboding. "Let's hope he's kept an eye on this one. And what does he want you to do in return?"

"He said he had a job."

"Right. So why do you want me to hide in the ship."

"It's just ... easier to do it this way. I don't want the kid mixed into all of this."

Sinead looked at the child who sat in his little seat, the Mandalorian doll clamped under one arm. That made sense. If it was up to her, none of them would go anywhere near the station.

"Okay. I'll do it if you keep a comlink on you. I want to know what's going on."

"Fine." The word came out as a sigh. He led her down into the hull and told her to crawl onto the bunk. Once she'd folded her legs on the thin mattress, he placed the kid on her lap.

“I'm pretty sure that if someone looks inside, they're gonna see me."

Mando stepped back and touched a small keypad on the side of the bed, and metal panels slid down with a whir, cutting her off from the rest of the ship. It wasn't a bed. It was a safe room. Only faint light found a way through minuscule cracks along the otherwise solid hatch. She pressed a hand against the cold surface.

"It won't be long." Mando's voice was muffled through the thick barrier. She could hear him return to the cockpit.

The kid looked up at her and babbled softly, his eyes unfathomably deep and much wiser than a small child had any business being.

“Won’t be long,” Sinead mumbled and closed her eyes.

A shudder and creak went through the ship as it touched down on the station. Once Mando had left the ship, Sinead turned on the comlink and held it up to her ear, closing her eyes as if dimming one sense would strengthen another.

“…ando.” A faint voice came through the comlink. “…at you under that bucket?”

“Ran.” Mando sounded guarded.

“…know if I'd ever see you...” The voice kept falling out, and Sinead pressed the comlink harder against her ear, screwing her eyes tightly shut. “…surprised when you reached out to me. You know, cause I … I hear things…between you and the Guild aren't working out.”

She jumped when Mando’s voice exploded out of the comlink.

“I’m not working with the Guild on this one. I need some information.”

“Might be able to help…” there was a long silence where she thought Mando might have turned off the commlink. And then, “…after the job.”

Sinead’s hand clenched into a fist on her thigh. Of course, it would never be that easy. From the snippets heard through the comlink, they were going to need the ship. It was hard following what was happening, but it sounded like Mando was being introduced to the rest of the team. Her heart skipped a beat when one of them turned out to be an ex-Imperial. It wasn’t like she had never associated with criminals, and her past wasn’t squeaky clean either, but the combination of criminal and ex-Imperial sounded like a recipe for disaster.

The more she listened, the more it dawned on her that she didn’t know Mando, not really, even though they had been traveling together for quite some time. She didn't even know his real name. She had never asked him.

“I thought you said you had four,” Mando said.

“He does.” This voice was new, sounding feminine and husky at the same time.

“Xi’an.” Mando sounded guarded.

This Xi’an moved closer, her voice becoming clearer. “Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?”

Sinead’s hand closed around her blaster until she realized with a sinking feeling that she didn’t know how to get out of there. For some reason, she had allowed someone to lock her in a tiny box without a second thought.

“Nice to see you too,” Mando said in an even voice, proving that she had not cut him down.

Xi’an spoke again, her voice so loud she must have been standing right on top of Mando. “I missed you,” she purred.

Missed Mando?

“This is shiny. You wear it well.”

"Do we need to leave the room or something?" Another voice. Maybe Mayfeld?

"Well, Xi'an's been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group," said Ran.

What?

"Aww. You gonna be okay, sweetheart?"

"I'm all business now. Learned from the best."

"All right, lovebirds. Break it up till you get on the ship. Right now, we don't have much time."

Sinead turned the comlink off just in time before someone made their way into the ship. Every step they took clanged through the ship. It was either a droid or someone wearing shoes with metal soles. She pulled out her blaster and laid it out of reach of the kid but close enough that she could grab it in seconds.

"We sure this thing even flies?" A voice said suddenly, close to the safe room.

"S'worse than I remember," Xi'an said. "Never thought about getting an upgrade, Mando?"

There was a grunt of laughter, which cut off abruptly when the ship started up again. Something heavy moved around just outside the safe room.

"Scared of flying, big guy?" Mayfeld said.

A deep voice rumbled out, "shut it." So that was Burg.

"Will you sit. Down," A female voice ground out. Xi’an.

There was a bang when something slammed against the side of the ship, and then the sound of shuffling feet right outside the safe room. Sinead swallowed thickly.

"Hey, hey, hey," Mayfeld said. "I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space, too, so let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian?”

Mayfeld said, “Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

That triggered a tittering of laughter across the hull. Sinead's grip on her blaster tightened until her knuckles were white. 

“Well, you flew with him, Xi'an,” Mayfeld continued, oblivious or indifferent to the tension that Sinead could feel all the way through the thick metal plates. “Is he as good as they say?”

“Ask him about the job on Alzoc III.”

Sinead had thought that Mando wouldn't reply, but to her surprise, he said, "I did what I had to."

Images of what he might have ‘had to’ flashed through her mind.

“Oh, but you liked it. See, I know who you really are.”

“He never takes off the helmet?” Mayfeld asked.

Xi’an squeaked out another laugh. “This is the way,” her voice was a deep mockery of Mando’s. Sinead had to ask him about that later.

“Hmm ... I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face? You ever seen his face?”

“A lady ... never tells.”

There was a new, malicious quality to Mayfeld’s voice. “Aw, come on, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up. Come on. Let's all see your eyes.”

Sinead’s heart was pounding.

Burg let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll do it.”

There were sounds of fighting and then—

The safe room opened with a whoosh. Sinead's hand shook as instincts screamed to draw her blaster, and the logical part of her brain screamed that she shouldn't start a firefight with the child on her lap. Logic won out in the end.

A bald human jumped to his feet. "Who the hell are you?" So that was Mayfeld. "Mando, who the hell is she?"

Beside him, a purple-skinned Twi'lek appeared, spinning a throwing knife around her finger and staring intently at the newly revealed Sinead. Two filed canines poked out over her lower lip; it was the first time Sinead had seen a female Twi'lek with filed teeth. "How interesting," she purred. Xi'an. That just left Burg, who turned out to be a huge Devaronian even by Devaronian standards.

Slowly, Sinead got to her feet while holding the child tightly against her chest. Mando had frozen in place, and 

"You get lonely up here, buddy?" Mayfeld looked her up and down, and Sinead wanted to crawl back into the safe room and close it up. She barely managed to repress a recoil.

"I hired the Mandalorian to take me to Neth safely. There are so many unsavory types in the Outer Rim." She didn’t take her eyes off Mayfeld.

The kid made a small sound.

"What is that?" Mayfeld walked closer to get a better look at the child. "Is it like a pet or something?"

"Yeah. Something like that," Mando said quietly. Hands balled into fists at his side, his helmeted face had been trained on Sinead ever since the safe room had opened.

"My, my," Xi'an said, moving across the floor in a fluid motion to stand in Mando's space, tilting her head to look at him through her lashes. "Pets and damsels in distress. Didn’t think you were the type. Has that code of yours made you soft?”

Mando stood silent and still as a statue, the blank helmet an intimidating sight, but Xi'an didn't seem to worry. A smirk spread across her face.

Sinead hadn’t noticed Mayfeld before he was too close and reaching out for the child, a sort of cold curiosity in his eyes. She moved back without thinking, hitting the side of the bunk.

"What, don't wanna let me hold it?" He did not try to take the kid again but kept standing uncomfortably close. "You think I'm gonna hurt it or something?"

You wouldn’t hesitate.

“How do you know he won’t hurt you? He might bite.”

Mayfeld bared his teeth in a smile. Suddenly, his hand shot out and nearly grabbed the child. Both Sinead and Mando flinched, and the hull was filled with laughter.

"Relax," Mayfeld said, finally stepping back. "I'm starting to think you might be hiding something."

Sinead forced herself to breathe slowly, meeting his eyes calmly, coldly.

A disembodied metallic voice filled the hull. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.” The ship shook as it dropped back into the real dimension. Sinead sat down on the bunk, holding tightly on to the kid, who giggled softly in her arms. This was Tatooine all over again.

When it seemed like the ship had evened out, Sinead got to her feet again.

“Commencing final approach. Now. Cloaking signal. Now.”

Without further warning, the ship flipped sideways. It felt like the gravity generator had malfunctioned. Sinead was lifted off her feet, weightless for a moment, before she was slammed into the side of the ship with a bruising force, biting her tongue in the process.

"Engaging coupling. Now." 

The ship swerved one last time before landing on a solid surface, the resulting boom more felt than heard.

"Coupling confirmed. We are down. And relax."

Sinead unfurled from her awkward fetal position that had saved the kid from being thrown clean across the hull and stood. Her shoulder, the one that got acquainted with the metal wall, throbbed. She looked up to see Mando watching her, giving her a single inconspicuous nod.

"Commence extraction. Now."

Xi'an got to her feet with a snarl. "That useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown!"

Burg threw two crates across the floor with a grunt. The kid jumped when they crashed to the ground, and she bit her already bleeding tongue hard not to snap at the Devaronian.

"Zee," Mayfeld called up to the cockpit, "you sure they can't see us?"

The voice warbled out again, "the Razor Crest is scrambling our signature, and I'm inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship has survived the Empire without being impounded."

They were breaking into a prison? Sinead let out a long breath and stared hard at Mando, who once again was an impregnable statue. Before Sinead could ask, he was called away to hack the hatch to the prison. She hadn't felt the telltale rumble of the ship going through the atmosphere, which meant they were still in space. 

Xi'an bounced lightly on the balls of her feet while watching Mando work. Her dark eyes glittered in the sudden light when the hatch opened to a sterile white hallway that seemed blinding in the perpetual dimly lit Crest.

One after one, the temporary crew dropped through the hatch until only Mando was left. He turned towards her. "Keep an eye on the droid." His voice was low and tight. "Don't let it see the kid. This is a New Republic prison transport, be ready to leave in a hurry."

"Be careful." It came out as an awkward croak and she shifted the child to another arm to avoid his eyes.

Mando climbed down the hatch, and Sinead closed her eyes for a second before placing the kid in the safe room. "You'll be safer in there," she whispered to the little guy. His ears lifted, which she took as a sign of understanding and pressed the button to shut the safe room tight.

It was strange seeing a droid in Mando's seat, watching the monitor with the kind of rapt yet detached attention that only a droid could have. She recognized it as a protocol droid, made to translate and serve. It had no inbuilt weapons, which explained the blaster rifle leaning against the chair. 

The droid turned when she appeared in the doorway. “You are not supposed to be here.”

Sinead didn’t bat an eye at the droid’s lack of manners; having spent any time in the Outer Rim, it wasn’t the first droid with wonky programming she’d met. “And yet here I am.”

The droid stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time before turning wordlessly back to the screen.

She stood behind it, watching the four red dots make their way through the facility. The droid guided them down corridors towards the control room, all the while completely ignoring her presence.

This was the second time in a very short period that Sinead had sat useless in the ship, trying to piece together what was happening from scratchy soundbites and the jumbled screen. It was clear that everything did not go according to plan. 

"It seems your presence has been detected. Redirecting security alert away from your position," the droid said as the screen flashed red.

Sinead grabbed the back of the pilot chair so hard the metal cut into her hand.

“Zee, open the door!” came Mayfeld’s voice through the commlink.

“I'm detecting an organic signature,” the droid said. A fifth red dot had appeared on the screen.

“Yeah, okay, all right. Just open the door!”

A new wave of uselessness wrenched her gut as she stood there listening to Mando trying to talk a lone guard down. It was hard to parse what happened precisely, but the end was all too clear: the guard died, and with that shit hit the fan.

"Idiots," Sinead hissed between her teeth, watching the screen with unblinking eyes as if she could somehow reach in and smack whoever was responsible for bringing down the New Republic on their heads. There was a big difference between a jailbreak and a jailbreak that left a corpse behind.

An alarm blared through the ship, making Sinead jump.

The droid adjusted its scomp link, and the alarm fell silent.

"Zero to Mayfeld. Zero to Mayfeld," it droned. "I detected a New Republic distress signal homing in on your location. You have approximately 20 minutes."

Was that really enough time to get out of there? A million scenarios whirled through her head, adding to the feeling of dread that followed her like a shadow.

Zero suddenly rose from the pilot seat, and Sinead took a step back, giving the bug-eyed droid a guarded look. “What are you-“

It swung its metal arm at her face.

She reacted instinctively, throwing up a hand to catch it. The force knocked her off her feet; she landed on the floor with a loud thud, letting out a sharp cry as her bruised shoulder was wrenched into an unnatural angle.

Sinead let out a feral snarl, trying to get to her feet while pushing Zero away. The droid pushed her down with strength it shouldn't have possessed.

"Do not resist," it said in its calm, metallic voice. A hand came out of nowhere and whacked her on the head.

Ears ringing, head throbbing, she flailed blindly against it.

Zero's vice-like grip closed around her wrists, and she kicked against it, screaming, spitting. Before she could wriggle away, he wrapped a thin binding wire around her wrists and fastened it to a metal bar under the seat.

“Fuck you!” She kicked wildly, trying to trip the droid, do something, but he ignored her, taking her blaster and sitting back in the pilot seat.

The droid ignored her. There was a whirring sound when it turned its scomp link, and a translucent figure appeared above the dashboard. The blue light reflected on Zero’s metal body, and Sinead lifted her head to see the recording.

"M-Man-M-Mando-o-o." The projection flickered and skipped, the image stretching in strange contortions. Sinead didn't recognize the human, but something told her he was bad news. "Mando, I received-received your tra-transmission. U-upon your return, deliver-liver the quarry directly to the client."

Cold dread washed over Sinead, wrenching a hollow gasp from her chest.

"Interesting," Zero turned off the transmission.

"No." It took a second for Sinead to realize she had said it out loud. Her voice shook. "If you touch a single hair on his head, I'll-"

Mayfeld's voice filled the cockpit. "Zero, we got Qin. Mando's done."

Done? As in …

"I found some information on the Mandalorian from the Bounty Hunters' Guild," the droid said.

With renewed energy, Sinead tried getting free, but the thin wire held, cutting a red line into her wrist; the pain was dulled by fear and adrenaline. The edges of her vision blurred.

"Yeah yeah, do whatever. Just get us off this ship."

"I have neutralized the human. What shall I do with her?"

"I don't give a shit, Zee! Shoot her in the fucking head, just get rid of her!"

The droid turned and looked at her. "Affirmative. You have 10 minutes remaining."

Zero stood, pulling its blaster rifle with a fluid, mechanical motion. It stepped around the pilot seat and towered above her.

The rifle clicked, loud as a cannon.

Everything faded into shadow, even the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

After an eternity, she chanced a peek.

The monitor was trilling a steady stream of beeps. Zero had moved back to the pilot seat.

The world screeched to a halt. She released a shuttering breath.

"Zero to Mayfeld," the droid said. "You have a potential problem. He has escaped."

At first, Sinead didn't believe her own ears. He had escaped? Mando wasn't dead?

A hysterical giggle bubbled to the surface, and she shook with adrenaline. They were so fucked.

Relief soured into cold fear when the child appeared in the doorway, tilting his head with a curious stare. He seemed impossibly small standing alone on the floor.

Go! Sinead mouthed, trying to nudge him back with her foot.

Zero hadn't noticed him. "Zero to Mayfeld. Mayfeld, do you copy?" White noise came from the comm, and the monitor faded into static. "It seems comms are no longer functioning, therefore, you cannot hear me. You are on your own."

Please, go! If she thought it loud enough, maybe the kid would hear it.

He did not. Instead, he smiled toothily at Sinead and cooed softly. Her heart stopped when Zero turned around.

"Curious," it said in its flat voice, turning to grab its rifle that lay across the dashboard.

"No!" The scream ripped from Sinead's mouth. The edge of her vision blackened until there was only the droid.

Zero stood and froze. Sinead craned her neck back to see that the child had disappeared back into the ship, and she let out a shuddering breath. Zero stepped over her and jumped down the hatch, leaving her alone in the cockpit.

Frantically, she started pulling with all her might, the wire biting farther into her skin.

She looked around, blinking sweat out of her eyes, searching for something, anything, that could help, when her eyes fell on a small black instrument lying on the console—a fusing pen.

A dull thud rose from the hull and spurred her into action; rolling onto her shoulder with a grunt, she contorted her body in ways it wasn't meant to do. Tears welled up in her eyes as her muscles spasmed. It felt like she was being torn in two.

Her flailing foot caught the instrument, and it clattered to the ground. Rolling onto her side, she pushed it closer until she could grab it from the floor with her mouth, finally dropping it into her waiting hand.

The pen came to life, and she nearly dropped it as it burned through the wire, leaving circular burns on her wrist.

The binding wire fell away and with it every last coherent thought in Sinead's brain. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled out of the cockpit, shoulders heaving with every pant. Numbly, she grabbed a warped length of pipe forgotten on the floor and dropped into the hull.

The safe room opened just as her feet hit the ground. Time slowed.

She swung the pipe with both hands, and the droid’s bulbous eyes exploded in a shower of glass, knocking it to the ground.

It raised its hand. "Do not-"

She brought the pipe down, again and again. A strangled scream tore from her chest as she smashed through the metal shell, exposing wires and circuitry. Foul-smelling oil leaked onto the floor.

A burst of sparks crawled up the droid's broken body, and with that, its lights went out.

The pipe slid out of her hands and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

Mando was watching her silently, standing by the open hatch. After a long moment, he took a deep breath.

The floor spun. With every breath Sinead’s shoulders heaved like she had run a marathon.

A slight babble broke the silence. The kid watched her, head tilted to the side, ears lifted in earnest curiosity.

"It's okay." She picked him up with hands that still shook. "It's over." It was more for her benefit than his.

Someone hoisted themselves into the ship from the hatch and stood, a Twi'lek male with the same purple skin. He was built like a tank, his barrel-like chest seeming larger under a dirty tank top. "Can't say I missed this hunk of junk." His voice was like sandpaper, and when his eyes fell on Sinead and the broken husk of Zero, he flashed a pointy-toothed smile.

"Where's the others?" Her voice was surprisingly even, considering her entire body still strummed with adrenaline.

"Later," Mando ground out. He lifted the child out of her arms, never turning his back on the Twi’lek, whose, Sinead realized, hands were bound with thick durasteel manacles. She touched her wrist where the binding wire had cut deep into the soft skin.

"Keep an eye on him," Mando said in a low voice. "Do not trust him."

She nodded once, feeling the aftereffects of the adrenaline start to kick in. Her legs felt weak, and every sound was dulled but somehow still echoed in her head.

Mando and the child disappeared up the ladder, and the ship broke off from the transport. Sinead picked up Zero’s blaster rifle and propped it against her leg.

"So you hate droids just as much as old Mando up there?" He said, looking pointedly at the jagged metal remains of Zero.

She stared at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "What was that little green thing? Didn't look like nothing I've seen before."

“Pet.”

"You're almost as talkative as Mando." He leaned his head back against the fall, still not taking his eyes off her. "Wanna know how I ended up rotting on a prison transport."

"Guess you're gonna tell me either way."

The Twi'lek bared his pointed teeth in a grin. "Mando up there-" he pointed upwards with his bound hands- "left me behind to get picked up by those kriffin' New Republic bastards. Threw me in a cage without even a proper trial. Now he's left my only sister to the same fate. That ain't right." He didn't seem too torn up about it. "That's what Mando does. He leaves people behind."

"Everyone has their reasons."

The Twi'lek's eyes darkened. "He has his code, always do the job. Load of shit."

The ship exited hyperspace, and Sinead breathed a sigh of relief. Nauseating pain radiated through her head, and she wanted this stranger off the ship.

The Crest landed, and Mando jumped down the ladder without the child. Sinead watched with mistrustful eyes as Mando freed the Twi'lek, who made a show of rubbing his wrists once the bindings fell away.

The ramp came down and revealed a human man with unruly grey hair and beard. His beady eyes narrowed when he spotted Sinead leaning against the opening.

When the Twi'lek saw Ran, he let out a gruff laugh and sauntered down the ramp. Mando followed behind him, walking stiffly like he was a spring ready to be released, and Sinead imagined him scanning the hangar for danger.

"Where are the others?" Asked Ran, scanning the ship as if he expected the rest of the crew to come running down the ramp.

"No questions asked. That's the policy, right?"

Ran bared his teeth, more sneer than smirk. "Yeah. That is the policy."

"I did the job."

"Yeah, you did," Ran said, pulling out a pouch with deliberate slowness and throwing it to Mando, who caught it easily.

"And the information you promised me?"

"What's he talking about?" The Twi'lek said.

Ran's eyes flickered to Sinead. "Since you got Qin and left the team behind, I figure it's fair you only get half the reward."

The Twi'lek sniggered.

"Ran ..." Mando's stance shifted slightly, hand inching towards his blaster. Sinead pushed off the wall, leaning back to eye the blaster rifle propped up against the bed.

"Mando." Ran's voice was even. They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving a muscle.

Mando's hand's curled into fists, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to deck Ran. Instead, he turned and stalked up the ramp.

Anger flashed through Sinead’s system. They'd all nearly been killed and it had all for nothing.

"Mando!"

He stopped and slowly turned.

"The fella you're looking for. Dunno where he is, but I heard some of his crew hangs around Alpha on Zessol. Might wanna check it out."

Mando was silent for a moment before giving him a curt nod, still moving backwards into the ship. When he was inside, Sinead pressed the button to close the ramp.

"Zessol, huh?" Sinead had heard stories about Alpha, an old space station hovering above the planet, but she had never been there herself. Complicated emotions swirled in her chest. "You ever been there?"

But Mando had disappeared. As soon as the ramp closed, he had hurried up the ladder and was already starting the ship when Sinead entered the cockpit. It wobbled as it rose and floated towards the exit.

Sinead sat down in the same chair she'd been bound to what felt like ages ago and drummed her hands on her thighs. "You think they’ll try something?"

"Yep," Mando said, activating the thrusters while the ship was still a bit too close to the station.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

"Left a tracking beacon on Qin."

Three fighters dropped out of hyperspace in front of the Crest. Sinead's stomach flipped as the ship dove to avoid a collision. She smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Wanna stay and watch the show?"

Mando replied by jumpstarting the ship into hyperspace, the sheer force making the metal creak. "Zessol is on the other side of the galaxy. It'll take days to get there."

"I guess." Sinead reached over and grabbed the child's hand, pulling his attention from the swirling mist right outside the window. "Would've been nice to see, though."

Mando hummed in response.

The child nearly fell from his seat as he tried to climb across Sinead’s arm. She pulled him onto her lap, letting him play with the end of her frazzled braid.

"What did you do to the others?"

"Left them in a cell. Let the New Republic deal with it."

"Because they’re so good at that." She thought back to the slave ring on Loovria, operating right under the New Republic's nose.

Mando grunted, and they both fell silent. The navicomputer calculating the fastest route. 83 standard hours before they would arrive at Zessol. 83 hours until she got some answers. A hard ball of nauseating fear formed deep in her stomach. 83 hours.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[eternalstann]

Foot Massage

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

 Warnings: Smut; Mature content [2360 words].

Summary: Bucky gives you a foot massage after a night out with the girls. Except, it turns into a lot more than a foot massage. 

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     You tried to subdue yourself from your fit of giggles as you walked through the doors of the compound. Natasha bent forward grabbing her knees, doubled over from laughter. "Wait, spin around for me again" she choked out whilst looking up at you. You broke when you started to twirl and she smacked your ass. "Natasha!" you exclaimed swatting her hands away. "I definitely see why those guys couldn't keep their eyes off of you tonight, cause your ass is literally a work of art" she spoke cupping your ass in her hands and jiggling it. "You're beyond drunk Nat" you whisper, remembering that it was going on four a.m.

You were about to head to the kitchen when the light from the living room flicked on revealing almost all of the guys sitting on the couch. "Could you be any louder?" Steve asked with a half smile on his face and you were surprised he wasn't upset at you all for being out so late. He truly did act 100 sometimes. "You guys definitely had a good night, hey Y/N, if anything happens between you and Nat tonight come get me first" Sam snickered from his spot on the recliner adjacent to Steve. You just rolled your eyes, typical Sam. You loved him to death, you just didn't have those type of feelings for him. Even though his flirty banter was a nice confidence boost every now and then.

Maybe you could have those feelings for Sam one day; he was handsome, smart, funny and strong. But right now you only had eyes for Bucky Barnes. You bit your lip as your eyes fell to him sitting next to Steve on the couch. There was something about the quiet man that you were just so drawn to. His eyes met yours for a moment before he turned to face Carol who had plopped down in the open seat next to him. A pang of jealousy coarsed through you as she handed him a beer and placed her feet up onto the table in front of them. You mentally kicked yourself for not beating her over there. He was wearing a tight fitting navy blue t-shirt. His chest and shoulders filled it out so completely you were positive if he breathed too deeply it'd rip off him. A pair of gray basketball shorts and socks finished his look and you couldn't help but stare at his muscular thighs. Your thoughts were about to take a turn towards the R-rated when you felt a pair of small but strong arms wrap around your waist.

"I love youuuu!" Natasha quipped rocking you back and forth. "I love you too Nat" you replied placing your hands over hers. She always got really touchy when she was drunk but usually you didn't have as much of an audience. The red headed (and sometimes blonde) woman was truly your closest friend. She kissed your cheek before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the love seat. "Hey Tony and Bucky! Peter isn't it past your bedtime?" You joked. "Haha you're so funny Y/N, you're only a few years older then me so relax!" He laughed. "Where are Clint and Bruce?" Natasha asked noticing the two of them were missing from the bunch. "Bruce went to bed a while ago and Clint went home for the weekend. I'm Surprised you were even able to deduct they weren't here as drunk as you are Nat" Tony spoke pulling laughs from the guys.

"Where's Wanda?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. "You know where she is" Carol responded before taking a sip of her beer. "Okay Wanda, I knew she was a freak! It's always the quiet ones!" Sam just wouldn't stop tonight. "At least someones getting some, this job is horrible for my sex life" Nat deadpanned. "No seriously, I haven't had sex in so long I think my virginity is growing back" You were joked. Though you were getting crucially horny. Everyone laughed but you felt butterflies watching Bucky laugh, it was a rare occurrence so you tried your best to take it in. "I'm sure anyone here would love to help you with your problem Y/N, including Nat" Carol looked at you. "Wow Carol so you wouldn't?" "Oh, girl especially me" She laughed and you could feel your neck get hot. "Well right now my biggest problem is how bad my feet hurt" You reached down to pull off your strappy black heels.

"I'll give you a foot massage" Bucky shrugged and your head shot up so fast you almost got whiplash. "Don't let me block your blessing girl" and Carol got up switching seats with you. You weren't even fully seated when he grabbed your legs and pulled your feet into his lap. You shivered at the feel of his cold metal hand and then the warmth of his flesh one. It was probably odd to be receiving a foot rub in front of the team but you couldn't find it in you to care. Bucky's big hands used just the right amount of pressure on your sore soles and it took all of your effort not to let out a moan. His metal hand lifted your leg up and his other one squeezed your calf, rubbing up and down. You felt your nipples harden and you took a deep breathe to try and keep your composure. He was barely doing anything and you were falling apart.

He was smiling at you, an innocent smile but the sight of it made your pussy wet. You felt like those blues eyes were staring right through you. "Is this good?" he whispered to you, trying not to draw the attention of the others a they had all begun watching whatever was on T.V. "You're perfect Buck" you sighed, pushing back your hair and letting your head fall onto the arm rest of the couch.

The way you were sprawled out, legs on his lap with your back arched slightly he felt his shorts grow tighter. He could see your hard nipples through your thin black dress and he closed his eyes to imagine your bare breasts. You were gorgeous, watching Nat all over you made him both turned on and jealous at once. It was his idea for him and the guys to stay up having a movie night because you were going out with the girls. He wanted to make sure you were safe, even though you could more then handle yourself. Your legs were so smooth and soft, he wished he could feel the rest of you.

After about fifteen minutes you yawned and his heart dropped, fearing it was the end of your interaction. "I'm gonna go lay down" you spoke sitting up and putting your hand on his arm. "Thank you Bucky, I'll have to return the favor sometime" you smiled before getting up and padding barefoot to your room. You weren't really tired but you needed some relief. You stripped your dress off as soon as you made it to your room. You lay on your bed and ran your hands down your body, remembering the feeling of Bucky’s touch. Your core throbbed at just the thought of him, an ache deep within you that only he could fix.

Bucky got up as soon as he'd noticed you'd forgotten your shoes. A perfect excuse to see you again. He was gonna knock but he stopped in his tracks when he saw your door was still cracked open. "Y/N you left your shoes-" His breathe caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. There you were- splayed out on your bed, legs open with one hand between them touching yourself. Your head had been against the pillows but rose in shock at the sound of his voice. "Bucky- I..." you exclaimed but you couldn't find words. "I'm so sorry..I should've knocked" Bucky spoke, barely above a whisper and unable to take his eyes off of you.

"Bucky can I tell you something..?" you didn't know where this confidence came from but you hoped it would see you through. "...I'm really fucking horny". Your eyes focused on the bulge in his shorts. "And I could use your help". Bucky was across the room in seconds, "then let me help you baby girl".

As soon as he was in reach you pulled his face to yours. The kiss was dirty and sensual, the kind that made your brain turn to static. Your fingers found their way to his hair, holding onto him like he would disappear if you let go. His were around your waist pulling you so close a sheet of paper wouldn't fit between the two of you. His mouth tasted like your new favorite thing and his scent was intoxicating. "Bucky get naked" you whined tugging at at the hem of his shirt. He obliged pulling his top over his head. He had scars littered across his broad chest, you leaned forwards and licked down his sternum. "These shorts need to go too.." you drawled, tugging them down.

You took a moment to take in his length, you had no doubt he'd be well endowed but you were almost nervous at how big he was. You took him in your mouth, bobbing your head a few times before looking up at him. His pupils were blown, mouth in a small 'o' at the sight of you. You bobbed faster, swirling your tongue around the head and placing your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. "Holy shit baby girl, don't stop" he moaned, his flesh hand falling to the back of your head.

You kept going, obscene noises of your sucking echoed through the room. "Fuck" you heard Bucky mutter under his breath and you knew he was close. You hummed around him and that was it, you felt his hot load shoot into your mouth and you did you best to swallow it all. You pulled back and tried to catch your breath but Bucky pulled you up and bent you over the bed. He spread your legs and rubbed your sex, "you ready for me baby girl?". You couldn't even speak, you just nodded your head; but that wasn't enough for Bucky. His hand came down on your ass and you jumped at the sting. "Talk to me Y/N". He smacked you again and you let out a whimper, "Yes Bucky please, I'm ready!". Your jaw dropped when you felt his tongue against your pussy. He didn't waste any time, licking and tasting you. He ate you like you were his last meal. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum" you cried, as that pleasant burn began to form in the pit of your stomach. He picked up the pace, encouraged by your words. He began sucking on your clit. You nearly screamed his name as you reached your peak. He used his mouth to ride you through your orgasm. You let your face fall flat against the bed when he was finished. You felt like you were floating. “Get on the bed babygirl” he commanded and you obeyed.

You lay flat on your back, staring at the beautiful man hovering over you. Bucky shook his head and disbelief, still not able to believe he was finally having you this way. “You’re so gorgeous” he spoke, leaning down to kiss you again. “Please Buck, I need you” you were pining at this point. Bucky held himself up, his arms in either side of you, before pushing into you. The feeling made both of you breathless. “So wet for me..” Bucky mumbled, letting his forehead rest against yours. He pulled out almost completely before entering you again. You were certain you’d never felt this full before.

You arched your back as he began to thrust into you faster, your breast pressed against his chest and legs wrapped around his waist. You wished the two of you could stay in this moment forever. “You feel so good baby” you groaned letting your nails dig into back. Bucky liked the pain and picked up the pace even more, slamming into you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” you chanted like a mantra feeling your high approaching again. “You gonna come for me sweetheart?” Bucky asked, placing a hand around your throat and squeezing. All you could do was nod. His hips rubbed just right against your clit each time he delved into you.

Bucky’s thrusts got quicker and you clenched around him. “Cum for me Y/N!” Bucky muttered through gritted teeth and you did. He fucked you through you high, still chasing his own. You pulled his head down to yours rough, by his hair and Bucky grunted at the feeling finally finding his release and cumming inside of you. “Shit babygirl” he spoke before collapsing on top of you.

You let your fingers trace shapes on to the now sweaty skin of his back, just enjoying the moment. Laying in the dark, next to the man you’d been dreaming of for months. Until a stream of light came in from the doorway and you heard Natasha’s loud voice, “YOU GUYS THEY HAD SEX, I TOLD YOU!”

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I never know how to end these omg 😭 but hey I’m a new blog! This is my first piece about a member of the avengers/cast so I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to send in requests or just chat! Sending you love. (P.S sorry I was so excited to post this I didn’t even proof read😭)

[cakesunflower]

Heart of Gold [Angel!Michael AU] One Shot

A/N: Angel!Michael is finally among us! It’s 13k+ of words i hope you enjoy. it’s a companion piece to my Angel/Demon!Luke piece Made of Gold and my Angel!Ashton piece Gold in the Clouds. all that’s left is the Demon!Calum piece and then this universe will be wrapped up. happy reading!

The gravel dug into the skin of Freya’s palms as she held herself up, panting ever so slightly to catch her breath through burning lungs deprived of air during combat, watching with wide eyes as the King’s body fell limply right in front of her. The empty vessel fell with a heavy thud, a lump of polished shoes and a black peacoat, and a sharp breath escaped through her nose at the instant acknowledgment of the King being dead. Freya ignored the sharp sting of a cut across her cheekbone, feeling the warm trickle of blood leaking from it as she breathed heavily in disbelief rather than anything else, staring at the body in mild incredulity. He was dead. The King of Hell was dead.

She wasn’t about to mourn over his death. Truthfully, Freya could care less. The demon had been an asshole, which wasn’t surprising given his role, but he’d killed the few friends she had just because they didn’t follow orders exactly like the King intended and that cost them their lives. So, yeah, Freya was sort of glad about his death.

But then her gaze lifted, looking up at who finally got rid of the seemingly unbeatable King, and she pressed her lips together. It was an angel, she knew—an angel she’d already run into a few times. Freya’s nails dug into the dirt, the gravel sharp against her skin yet it felt like nothing, her hazel eyes locked onto a pair of annoyingly bright green ones. He stood a few feet away, an angel blade in hand coated with crimson red, and Freya clenched her jaw together. If he so far as even thought of using it on her. . .

“You killed him.” Freya’s eyes shifted to the only other angel present, taking in the familiar shock of red hair and hazel eyes, staring at the blonde man next to him in a mix of surprise and awe. The angel was depicting the same kind of shock Freya felt freezing her muscles. “You killed the king.”

Instead of teleporting herself out of this situation—which would’ve been the smart thing to do because as much as she loathed to admit it, angels were stronger than mot demons—Freya found herself remaining on the ground, looking up at the two men. Along with the king, there were two other bodies around them, low level demons that had come along with her and the king. Freya didn’t care much for them. She didn’t care much for anyone, period. She only ever followed the King’s commands because of the power he held over all of them, developing a hatred for the ruler as he killed the only friends she had—if she could even call them friends. Every demon for themselves and all that bullshit.

“I did.” She looked at Michael, the angel with the same name as that of the legendary—and dead—archangel. She only knew this Michael because he was friends with the Prince of Hell, someone even as indifferent as Freya had a soft spot for. Not that she’d ever admit that. She’d rather burn in Hell Fire. Michael’s voice was distant with surprise of his own, lifting the blade as his green eyes took in the blood coating the silver, before he gazed at the body in front of him. Then, with the subtlest quirk of an eyebrow, he questioned thoughtfully, “You think Luke will be upset?”

Ashton’s eyes were on the body as well. “He might be since he wasn’t the one to kill him but. . .” He shrugged, indifferent. “I’m assuming he’ll be more glad that he’s dead.”

Freya contained a scoff at that, finally pushing herself to her feet, well aware of the love lost between the King of Hell and his son. She didn’t deal with human driven emotions like love, finding the whole concept of it disgusting and just so human, but she knew of what the King had done to the woman Luke loved. The loss of his father was not going to affect the prince negatively, of that Freya was sure.

The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she stood to her feet, the movement catching the two angels’ attention as they lifted their chins at the sight of her. The knew of Freya, of course, knew she was somewhat a friend to Luke and Calum, the only demons Michael and Ashton let themselves befriend. But she’d also just been one of the demons who attacked them per the King’s orders, having restrained themselves from driving a blade through her chest because of her friendship with their own friends.

She dusted the dirt off her black jeans, subtly narrow eyed gaze on the two men in front of her, wondering what was next. She could easily just blip out of there, but truthfully Freya was still in a bit of shock at the knowledge of the dead king—at the knowledge that some random angel had managed to kill him when no one else even dared.

Maybe that’s why the king fell. He’d underestimated the angel and it cost him his life. How unfortunate.

Her eyes met a pair of startling green, back straightening and wiping any sort of expression off her face as Michael twirled the tainted angel blade between his fingers absently. Honestly, Freya couldn’t believe he was the one who killed Hell’s Lord. This angel—who opted to wear ripped jeans and a flannel under an oversized denim jacket, had a fringe of blonde hair covering part of his eye, and somehow made that unshaven look work—had outsmarted the King of Hell and driven a blade through his chest. Freya would’ve laughed if she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand. There was a calculating look in his eyes, one that was loud in the newfound silence between them, before he lifted his chin. His voice remained thoughtful, though there was a bit of a challenging edge to it as he questioned, “Are you still going to try and kill us?”

Freya bit back the scoff, wanting to answer yes just for the hell of it, maybe as an excuse to kick their asses—even though they’d dropped the King and two other demons right in front of her. But Freya always had a bit of a daring streak to her. She never backed down from a challenge, was a good fighter, and found it fun to kick some angelic asses. Her eyes narrowed at Michael, who was gazing at her with a tilt of his head, looking ever so condescending that many righteous angels wore as if it was a second skin. It was one of the things that pissed the demon off so much about angels—not because they were complete opposites in regards of Heaven and Hell, but because they all looked at others as if they were better than them just because they were above the clouds and not below the earth like the demons.

Whatever snappy retort Freya had at the tip of her tongue died when a figure appeared in front of her, recognition quick to wash over when she realized it was Calum. He was one of the few other demons who was as high up as she was, and was a close friend of the Prince of Hell.

“No, she’s not,” Calum spoke in response to Michael’s question, voice bored and flat. He glanced over his shoulder at her as she pursed her lips, instructing, “Go back downstairs. Everyone’s gettin’ crazy now that the King’s dead. Get it under control while we get Luke.”

Freya pursed her lips at his command, the natural instinct to tell him to piss off and do his own bidding fighting to take control, but she kept herself in line. The King just died and of course Hell was losing its shit the second there was no one to order everyone around. Freya figured the least she could do is use whatever authority she had to get everyone to keep their heads on straight while the new King of Hell, Luke, took over.

She straightened her back, gaze involuntarily drifting over Calum’s shoulder and meeting a pair of annoyingly bright green eyes. Michael’s gaze never left her, intense and unblinking and unnervingly thorough, as if he was staring right into her blackened soul and scrutinizing every inch of it. But Freya was never one to let anyone get under her skin, least of all an angel, and her own hazel eyes narrowed into her signature glare, lips threatening to curl into an irritated snarl. She was used to angels staring at her as if she was scum, didn’t at all care for it and was always willing to knock the winged assholes down a peg or two. She would’ve done it right then and there, directed solely at Michael, if Calum hadn’t cleared his throat impatiently.

Freya smirked, wiping all signs of annoyance from her face as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. She lifted her chin, eyes on the angels. “See you around, dickheads.”

The last thing she saw before disappearing was the purse of Michael’s lips, and Freya was disgusted with herself for thinking how pink they were.

                                                   *****

The small heels of her boots clicked on the stoned path she walked down, the sound echoing in the long, dark hall of Hell’s corridor as she made her way to the King’s throne room. Luke had summoned her, and Freya would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious as to what he wanted with her. A personal summoning from the King wasn’t to be taken lightly; she either had to do something for him or she’d done something to piss him off. Luke’s only been King for about a week or so, and Freya was impressed with how quickly he settled things in Hell. He was a natural leader, unsurprisingly, getting any rowdy demon under control and not at all shy to use threats against those that had shown mere hints of defecting. Freya wasn’t surprised at that, given that it had been Luke’s duty when his father was King to take care of rogue demons.

As she approached the throne room, Freya caught sight of a couple of guys lingering in the hallway, talking amongst themselves, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes when she recognized Cesar as one of them. To call him an asshole would be redundant, given the demonic blood running through his veins and that almost everyone of their kind wasn’t your friendly next door neighbor. But Cesar, in particular, had the hobby of picking on Freya. Or, at least, attempting to, seeing as she’d never give him the time of day. He’d always had something against her, a kind of inferiority complex Freya didn’t care enough to dismantle.

Nearing the door, she heard Cesar leer, “Hey, Freya, how ’bout you and I—”

“No.” She didn’t let him finish, her tone bored and flat yet still holding its edge, gaze never wandering to the group off on the side as she reached the throne room door.

As she opened it, she heard Cesar scoff, “Fucking walks around this place like she’s some tough bitch.”

Freya’s lips quirked into a smug smirk when she heard someone else respond, “’Cause she is. She could kick your ass six ways to Sunday and ya wouldn’t know what hit ya.”

The heavy doors swung shut behind her, closing with a soft echoing thud as she walked further into the throne room. Since Luke took leadership, the room was significantly brighter, probably the only change he’s brought to the physical appearance of it. His father opted for mute candles lining up the stoned walls, providing an intimidating glow whenever he had an audience, as if being the King of Hell and a powerful demon hadn’t been menacing enough.

Luke, however, switched out the candles with actual bulbs, the dark magic running beneath the walls keeping them lit, and they were spread out more around the room, making it appear brighter. Despite being King, Freya had a feeling Luke wouldn’t be spending as much time down under as his father did. His company here had been constant during the past week as he stepped into his new role, but with a human girlfriend above ground, it was doubtful Luke would be as present in Hell as his father had been.

As she approached the throne where the blonde King sat, Freya noticed the only other presence in the room other than her and Luke, her prickling senses instantly picking up on the pure angelic grace stronger than that of the hybrid King’s. She slowed to a stop, just a few feet in front of Luke who was busy on his phone—the reception down there was impeccable—and had his free hand shoved in the jacket of his pocket, standing right next to the angel that had taken down their ruler just a few days ago.

“Long way from home, aren’t you?” Freya drawled, eyes slanting to the side to look at the angel without turning to face him. She took in the oversized, baggy white shirt adorning his frame and the ripped jeans, before her gaze landed on his face and she snorted in contempt at the sight of the black rimmed frames. “Since when do angels wear glasses? They prescription?”

“No. My eyesight is perfect.” A wry smirk tilted at Freya’s lips, a breathless scoff escaping her. It always amused her how direct and straightforward most angels were, humor and sarcasm going over their heads which was hilarious on its own. Then, Michael glanced at her and his own lips quirked subtly, and Freya could swear she heard some smugness in his tone as he added, “The glasses just bring out my eyes.”

His words caused Freya to actually look at him, eyebrows rising and sucking in her teeth under smirking lips because, alright, maybe not all angels were as oblivious as Freya knew them to be. Then, her eyes met his, and Freya had no idea where the thought even originated from but she felt betrayed by her own self when she decided that, yes, the black frames really did make the green of his eyes stand out.

As soon as that thought ran through her head, the smirk dropped from Freya’s lips and she clenched her jaw, deciding to look ahead at Luke instead of the angel, only a couple of inches taller than her, she stood next to. Fortunately, before Freya could berate herself for admiring even inch of Michael, Luke spoke up.

“I’ve got an assignment for you both, one that you’re gonna have to complete together,” he announced, sitting up with his left elbow resting on the arms of the seat and right hand still in his jacket pocket as he gazed at the angel and demon in front of him. At the hint of curiosity flickering under their mostly blank expressions, Luke informed, “I need for you two to find my father’s bones—his original human bones—and bring them to me.”

Freya blinked at him before her eyebrows drew together, not quite expecting that kind of request. For a moment, Freya had forgotten the meat suit the King wore until his death wasn’t his original body, having hopped into another one sometime during the hundreds of years he’d been around. Keeping his original bones safe was smart, because if those were gone, he’d have been dead long ago. And while she had an inkling of the answer, she still questioned, “What’re you going to do with the bones?”

“Burn them,” was Luke’s instant response, leaning back against the seat. He shrugged, as if it was obvious, while adding, “What’s burned stays dead. I don’t need him tryin’ to figure out a way to come back. If his original bones are destroyed, there’s no way he can come back.” Luke leaned forward, blue eyes flickering between Freya and Michael, expression serious and firm. “So I need you two to retrieve them and bring them to me. I want to be the ones to burn them, but I can’t get them myself.”

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, taking in the clench of Luke’s jaw under his unshaven beard. “Why not?”

Freya and Michael watched, then, as Luke’s throat worked while his gaze drifted over their heads, eyeing the double doors that were shut. He looked almost hesitant, a conflicting look washing over his features, before he let out a sigh. “The first King of Hell buried his bones inside a cave in the Monteverde Cloud Forest.” Freya held back a scoff, unsurprised at the dramatic destination. “But because the human bones of a demon’s original vessel can be used against them, he had a witch put a protection spell. The only way to get through is by offering the cave a bit of angel and demon blood.” Luke licked his lips, expression serious as he looked at the two of them, keeping his voice low because the last thing he wanted was anyone else hearing what he had to say. “You are two of the only angels and demons I trust; Ashton’s got his own shit to deal with, and the spell requires demon blood over a hundred and fifty years old.” Luke’s blue eyes met Freya’s hazel, his lips subtly quirking. “Cal just barely misses the cut off, but you don’t.”

It made sense, Freya supposed, nodding along to Luke’s words as he continued, “Trust me, I’d get them myself but I tried a few days ago.” That was news to both Freya and Michael, who frowned as a wry, humorless chuckle left Luke, rolling his lips into his mouth as he leaned back. He smiled, not at all amused. “Apparently my father put another protection spell when he buried his bones—specifically against an angel-demon hybrid. Against me.” At that, Luke pulled out the hand that had been buried in his jacket pocket, and Freya’s eyebrows shot up while she felt Michael tense up next to her at the sight of Luke’s hand. Damaged and raw, the skin was pinker than usual, a bubbling red, and slightly blistered like it had been burned. It was in the process of healing, Freya could tell, but it was slow. She couldn’t help the way her expression scrunched at the sight of Luke’s injured hand, understanding that whatever happened was probably painful.

Luke held his hand up, elbow on the arm rest as his lips thinned, gaze on the injury he had sustained. The fact that his own father put a spell like that with the specific intent of harming his son just reinforced the known fact that the former King of Hell had no regards for anyone, least of all Luke. While it was two centuries ago, Freya had some recollection of what it was like to be human, of having those emotions and fondness for those she once cared about. Despite the demon blood running through her veins and her blackened soul, a part of Freya—the deep, quietened part she kept locked in a box—liked to think that if she were to ever have kids, she would never treat them the way Luke’s father did him.

“If I go, I’ve no doubt it’ll kill me,” Luke said, voice low as his gaze returned to the two of them. “I can’t promise it won’t be dangerous, but I really do need you guys to do this for me.” Then, Luke allowed himself to smirk, looking at Michael as he added with a lilt to his tone, “Can’t have your biggest kill come back to life now, can we?”

Michael mirrored the smirk, though his was more subtle and secretive. He didn’t even look towards Freya for confirmation as he offered a nod to the King. “We’ll take care of it.”

Luke didn’t miss the irritated glance Freya threw Michael’s way, and he was quick to quell her. “Freya.” She looked at him expectantly. “You do this successfully, you’ll join Calum in the King’s Guard.”

His promise had Freya’s eyes widening before she could even think to fight the urge, the sensation of her throat drying one she didn’t often experience as the breath roughly escaped her lungs. Being on the King’s Guard was the highest rank a demon of non-royal blood could achieve in Hell, working alongside the King in dealings with souls and other demons and negotiations between Heaven and Hell. The former Guard had been relieved of their duties as soon as Luke’s father died, each King allowed to appoint their own, and when Luke took the throne it was no question that Calum would be stepping up next to him.

And while Freya was aware she was one of the very, extreme few demons Luke trusted, she never thought that trust went to the point of Luke wanting her to be on his Guard. Truthfully, she didn’t care about much, but she did care about Luke and she wanted to see him thrive. If she had the opportunity to do so by his side, then she would take it. Not to mention it would piss the other demons, all of who showed no respect towards her, the fuck off. Freya was a prideful demon and knew she was good at what she did, and this was never something she would turn away from.

She saw the smile that quirked at Luke’s lips upon her dumbfounded reaction, could feel Michael looking at her with an expectant expression of his own, and Freya allowed herself the smallest of smiles before thinning her lips. Her expression sobered up, exchanging a look with Michael before looking at Luke. Coolly, evenly, she responded, “Like the angel said: we’ll take care of it.”

                                                         *****

If he was capable of it, Michael knew that he would be sweating as twigs and leaves crunched under his shoes with every step he took. Still, he could feel the heavy humidity lingering in the air between the looming trees they trekked under, hearing the chirps and hums of the various insects that resided in the forest echo throughout. Each step forward allowed him to feel the magic guarding the cave more clearly, the protection spell forcing him and Freya to land a few miles away from it before making their way on foot. The only thing heavier than the humidity and denser than the forest was the silence between him and the demon.

Truthfully, she reminded him of Calum, the only other demon Michael found himself befriending. She was loyal to the throne—or, from what Michael could tell, loyal to Luke. And with his knowledge of popular culture being far more vast than most angels he called his brothers and sisters, Michael quickly realized the tattoo on Freya’s arm, just below the inside of her elbow, was that of a Death Eater tattoo seen in Harry Potter. The sight of it was surprising to Michael, unable to suppress the amused chuckle that escaped him as he looked ahead, the sound of his laugh instantly catching Freya’s attention.

“What?” she questioned, the snap in her voice ever present as she scowled over at him, a twig snapping sharply under her boot.  

Michael gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders as he kept his eyes ahead, unbothered by the heated gaze that could melt the skin off anyone else. “Surprised you’re a Harry Potter fan.”

Freya glanced down at the tattoo inking her skin, pursing his lips. Her decision to get the artwork had been impulsive, but Freya liked the design almost as much as she liked the books and movies. She wasn’t one to be fond of humanity or any aspect of it, but those particular books stuck with her, having read them when she could literally feel herself dying from boredom. Freya didn’t get much free time, and spending whatever she had on a human activity had been disgusting at the time, but if she thought about it now, Freya didn’t regret it.

Her tattoo, one that was a hallmark to death and destruction and everything evil, reminded her that humanity wasn’t entirely useless.

“Humans aren’t a complete waste,” Freya responded, tone flat as she raised her hand, absently swatting away a protruding branch before it nicked at her face.

“They aren’t,” Michael agreed smoothly. “You just have a biased view of them.”

He wasn’t surprised at the scoff that escaped Freya, glancing at her to see the way she shook her head and stared ahead. Raising her eyebrows, she looked at him and Michael noticed the bemused expression she wore as she retorted, “And you don’t?” With a shake of her head, Freya looked up at the sky, branches and leaves of trees obscuring most of the world as she came to a stop to look at Michael. “You angels have such an annoying pure view of everything.” The smile she wore was patronizing, but Michael could pick up on the disbelief hidden as well. “You think humans are so fucking great and must be protected at all times when in reality, all of the hardships they’re inflicted by are because they caused them themselves. They’re pathetic and make life difficult and then pray to your God to find a way out of whatever shithole they fell in.” Freya’s face scrunched up, irritation flooding through her veins as she huffed, “I have no pity for them.”

“They’re flawed,” Michael said, his voice calm and even, facing Freya. He didn’t agree with her beliefs, not entirely, but then again, why would he be expected to? They were complete opposites, in every aspect, yet Michael didn’t feel as. . . Revolted by her as he did with every other demon. It was unsettling, he’d be the first to agree, but something about Freya made Michael want to remain quiet and just. . . Stare. She was beautiful, painfully so, yet Michael had a feeling if he stated as such, Freya wouldn’t be afraid to use his own angel blade against him. “Humans aren’t perfect, and every day I question their creation because of what goes on everywhere in the world. But a lot of them try to be good.” He took a step towards her, a move that wasn’t lost on either of them. “They try, Freya, and that is enough.”

She scoffed once more, wry with a roll of her eyes and Michael pursed his lips at her. She reminded him of Calum when he first met the dark haired demon, except Calum’s view of humanity was vastly different now. Michael figured that’s what happened when he fell in love with a woman who was half human. He wondered if an act such as that would be strong enough to change Freya’s perspective, too.

He looked at her, green eyes meeting hazel, and Michael wondered if he’d imagined the subtle softening of the harshness in her eyes. It was quick, so fast that he would’ve missed it if his gaze wasn’t already on hers, but he noticed it. Almost defeated, it seemed.

“We’re close,” she said, easily dismissing the conversation as she began walking once more. Michael wondered if her shoulders ever tired from being so rigid all the time.

He let out a quiet sigh, following her lead. They were close, he knew; he could feel the magic protecting the cave the more they walked, could feel the force opposing his body from progressing any further. Michael pressed his teeth together, jaw tightening as he kept moving despite feeling as though something was pushing him back, noticing the slight difficulty Freya was having as well. He noted the focused scowl on her features, the cave within their line of sight at the foot of the rock wall ahead, and Michale had to admire her determination. Just like he admired the ever present fire in her hazel eyes and the smirk she wore, no matter how condescending it was.

When they got to the opening of the cave, Michael pulled out his blade and without missing a beat, sliced the inside of his left palm. He didn’t wince as the metal cut through his skin, fisting it above the ground and watching as the crimson liquid dripped down his pale skin and splattered on the entrance floor of the cave, just like Luke had said to do. Glancing at Freya, Michael held the blade to her, watching as he did the same to her own palm and let her blood trickle to the ground. It was all quite unceremonious, not at all as demanding as many spells Michael partook in, but it did the job.

And then, moments later, Michael felt most of the pressure relieve his body, and he let out a sigh. He heard Freya let out her own breath, looking at her to see the purposeful expression make its way back onto her deceivingly beautiful face. She twisted her lips briefly. “Let’s make sure what’s dead stays dead.”

                                                        *****

“Alright, I’ve got it, let’s—”

Freya stopped short, words dying in her mouth when she exited the small, eerie crypt and was greeted with the sight of Michael on the floor. She blinked, eyebrows drawing together as she watched him lay on the cold ground, short, gasping breaths escaping him in chokes as green eyes widened in panic stared up at the ceiling of the cave. His chest moved jerkily, quick and uneven as if there wasn’t enough air for him to breathe, the tendons in his neck protruding as one ring clad hand clutched at his chest. He would almost resemble a fish out of water with the way he was gasping for air, the hoarse wheezing sound echoing in the cave, and Freya would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been so unexpected.

“What the fu—” Her feet moved on their own accord, dropping the bag of bones to the ground as she dropped to her knees at the angel’s side. Freya didn’t think twice about her actions, hands coming up to cup Michael’s face, the unshaven beard tickling her palms as she tried to get him to look at her, peering over his body as his unsteady movements never ceased. Freya caught sight of the panic swimming in his green eyes, wide under drawn together eyebrows, pink lips parted in hopes of giving his lungs the oxygen they were begging for. Except it didn’t seem to be working.

Well aware of the spells that could be covering the cave, Freya had a feeling that whatever was inflicting Michael was due to some curse placed against angels in particular. The feeling of her blood sizzling in her veins hadn’t ceased, Freya was just good at ignoring it, and it wasn’t as bad as it could be. But whatever was happening to Michael made her believe that the curse against angels in this place was far more severe, and that she needed to get Michael out of there now.

Against her will, Freya was acutely aware of what seemed like worry washing over her, swallowing as she tried her best to ignore it because who the hell was she, getting concerned over the state of an angel? In that moment, Freya told herself that even if she was worried, it wasn’t because of Michael, but because this was Luke’s friend and she couldn’t have him die on her watch.

Yeah. That’s what this was. Not genuine concern for the angel who wore black rimmed glasses to bring out his green eyes.

The sight of someone dying had never truly bothered Freya before. It never made her freeze in place nor did she ever feel anything but wicked indifference when it happened in front of her, so why had the panic she’d seen in Michael’s eyes settle heavily in her chest as he struggled to breathe? She told herself it was because she hadn’t actually expected to see him drop to the ground, to suddenly being suffocated and unable to get off his back. She’s tortured people in much more horrible conditions and never batted an eye.

Her belief that the panic she’d felt just because he was Luke’s friend was already starting to dwindle.

“Okay, okay, I think this is our cue,” Freya muttered, disregarding the warmth she felt seep into her skin as she touched Michael’s, her hands dropping to grasp his before she used her strength to easily pull him to his feet. He stumbled, body still shaking, and Freya wrapped her right arm around his waist after draping his left around her shoulders. Free hand grabbing the bag of bones, Freya held the trembling angel to her, who was unable to utter a mere syllable, and breathed, “See what having angel grace gets you?”

Through his troubled state—it was unnerving to notice that his skin had grown paler—Michael shot her an irritated look upon hearing her words. She returned it with a dry smirk—whether she did so to calm her own racing nerves, no one had to know—and fought the unexpected desire to reach up and brush back the fringe of ashy blonde hair covering his eye. Her thoughts had her freezing in place, a fiery desire of screaming at herself for what the hell she was thinking, until Michael lifted his chin and widened his eyes slightly, managing to wheeze out in a raspy tone, “Can we get going?”

He didn’t have to tell her twice, especially when the longer she stayed in there, the harsher the inside of her body felt, like her blood was literally being set on fire and burning her from the inside out. Michael couldn’t breathe, and she felt as though she was about to combust, and neither of them could teleport out of there because of the damn spells coating the place.

Their footsteps sounded throughout the cave as Freya tried to get them out of there as fast as she could. Michael’s weight wasn’t the problem, of course—it was just the way his body was still shaking and the sizzling burn she could feel under the skin of her vessel. Her body was in pain, no doubt about it, but Freya had never been one to complain.

So she gritted her teeth, exhaling sharply through her nose as she helped Michael out, his head bowed and lips parted as breathless chokes continued to escape him. Shit. Freya hoped once they were out and far enough from the cave, whatever the hell was afflicting them would wear off.

The entrance of the cave was in sight, a literal light at the end of the tunnel, until suddenly there was a fierce, fiery sting running through Freya, pinching every single nerve in her body that had her tripping on her feet until the bag of bones was released from her grip and she was stumbling onto the ground, bringing Michael down right with her. Her knees came into harsh contact with the rocky ground, her eyes squeezing shut as she used her now free hand to slam against the floor, teeth baring as she inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, all too aware of the disgruntled, surprised hoarse gasp that escaped Michael at the unexpected fall.

Shit, shit, shit, fuck. It was like her vessel was being lit on fire, fingers dragging against the sharp ground as she fisted her hand and pressed her knuckles against the floor. Freya took a sharp, hissing breath through her teeth, the miniscule rocks digging into her skin but that was nothing compared to the burn in her body.

“Are you—” Michael’s breathless voice cut off so he could take a rough breath which got caught in his throat anyway. “—okay?”

Freya gave a shake of her bowed head, expression scrunched painfully as she squeezed her closed eyes, her arm still around Michael. She tried to focus on the feel of his body against hers rather than the pain of what was going on inside, the press of his side to hers bringing her back to reality and away from the agony of her body feeling as though it was burning down from the inside. “We need to get out of here,” Freya responded tightly, voice strained.

“Freya, yo-your skin.”

She opened her eyes at Michael’s taut voice, the very act difficult to go through with, and her gaze landed on the back of her hand that seemed to look like it was peeling, the skin a harsh pink, ready to melt off her bones. Freya sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, the sight of it seemingly only increasing the pain she felt to go with it. One look at what was happening and suddenly Freya was aware that she was feeling it all over, neck tensing as she felt the sensation there, her throat tensing, and through gritted teeth she gruffed out, “Move, move, move.”

The thrice chanted word was a command to herself, raising her head to glare at the light at the end of the tunnel, forcing herself to grab the bag in her fist and tightening her grip on Michael. The angel, in turn, noticed that Freya was in just as much as agony as he was, maybe more, and tried to pull his own weight despite it becoming increasingly difficult for him to breathe. The air they were surrounded in wasn’t granted to his lungs, and despite the tight burning in his chest, Michael still helped Freya in pulling them both to their feet with grunts escaping her and breathless wheezes sounding from Michael.

Their legs wobbled under their weight, yet the demon and angel still pushed. The cave echoed with the crunch of pebbles beneath their shoes and their labored breathing, both trying to hold onto each other to support themselves and the other, a silent partnership forged in hopes of making it out alive. Freya could feel Michael’s grip on her shoulder tighten, her own arm around his waist vice-like as she kept her jaw tight, the ache of it nothing compared to the sensation of feeling like her body was burning from the inside out, wondering if it was just as bad for Michael.

Truthfully, she was surprised at the angel’s resilience, knowing full well of heaven’s soldiers’ strength but her blackened soul deluding her to believe they were weaker than demons. Freya felt like she was about to drop any second, but she refused to do so. She needed to complete this mission. She needed to get these bones back to her new king. And she needed to get Michael out of there.

Her teeth gritted. Freya told herself it was because he was Luke’s friend. Not because she was worried.

“Almost. . . There. . .” Michael’s brittle rasp broke through Freya’s thoughts, gaze refocusing on the end of the tunnel that was thankfully drawing nearer with every shaky step they took.

Even when the ground beneath them went from rocks to twigs and grass, the sensation their bodies felt didn’t cease right away, and Freya let out a curse and almost felt her legs collapse as she hissed, “We’re not far enough yet.”

For fuck’s sake—Freya didn’t know when the last time she cried was, but she just wasn’t sure if she could keep this up. The smell of burning flesh nauseated her nose, the scent not usually one that troubled her, but knowing it was her own skin gradually melting off her damn bones both dwindled and reinforced her will to move quickly. The last thing she wanted was to die in the middle of this forest, holding onto an angel, but Freya wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up. Not when the burns began spreading across her cheeks, unfurling across her entire body as she kept pushing herself and Michael on.

And then they reached the outskirts of the spell, the weight instantaneously lifting off both of their bodies, and they collapsed.

Freya didn’t care for the sound of the bones rattling in the sack or the pinch of the twigs and dried leaves digging into her lower back due to the rise of her shirt, eyes squeezing shut as the sun peeked through the towering trees, breathing heavily through parted lips. A sense of relief washed over her, the searing of her skin no longer melting off her bones, her hands fisting the leaves she laid upon as she tried to catch her breath.

The sound of her struggling to ease her rapid heart rate could be heard mixed with the distant sounds of birds chirping, along with the raspy breathing of Michael sucking in heavy gulps of air after being deprived for too long, the sounds seeming to become further and further away as exhaustion hit Freya suddenly, out of nowhere.

The fresh air, colored with the scent of leaves and wood, brought an overwhelming sense of relief to Michael’s lungs as he drank in the air, because his life desperately depended on it. His chest no longer felt like it was on fire, the tension decreasing as he felt the warmth of the sun bathe him, a lot more calming than the heat he felt due to his oxygen supply being cut off. He could literally feel the color rush back into his face, throat drying with every inhale through his parted lips.

He brought a hand to cover his closed eyes, feeling every movement of his chest and every beat of his heart, a soft curse of, “Shit,” escaping his lips. Michael paused for a moment, mindful of the woman next to him, before his husky voice questioned, “Are you alright?”

When she didn’t respond, Michael let out a sharp breath through his nose, assuming she was being too stubborn to grace him with an answer. Opening his eyes and squinting against the sun beaming down, Michael turned his head as he began, “Fre—”

He cut himself off because it was quiet. Too quiet.

Not in the sense here he couldn’t hear the birds singing above or the rustling of dried leaves in the breeze. No, he could hear those perfectly clearly.

He couldn’t hear Freya’s heart beating.

Michael’s eyebrows drew together, squinting slightly as he looked at her, feeling the leaves press into his cheek yet he paid them no mind as he gazed at Freya laying on her back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Her skin reminded him of what Luke’s hand had looked like, burned and charred with pink, and while Freya’s skin didn’t look as blistered as Luke’s, the sight of it being so flawed was still jarring.

There was no movement of her chest, no sign of her breathing, and Michael felt his heart cease. Pressing his palms against the ground, ignoring the bite of the twigs and gravel, Michael pushed himself up with a heavy grunt. His movements were slower than he’d like, the effect of the magic that inflicted them still lingering, but Michael still crawled to where she was just a foot away. Pushing aside the bag of bones, Michael kneeled next to Freya’s unmoving body, panting slightly as he looked down at her.

Her dirty blonde hair spread beneath her, leaves stuck in the strands, and her skin looked as though it had been peeled, pink and burnt. When they’d been struggling out of the cave, Michael could feel Freya pushing herself, determined to get them out of there despite the sensations fighting her body, and he had actually felt guilty for forcing her to carry them both out. But he hadn’t been able to breathe, all of his energy going to suck in any ounce of air he could grasp, making Freya quite literally do all of the heavy lifting. But she had done it. She carried them out, despite her body physically making her incapable of doing so, and Michael was grateful.

It wasn’t lost on him that she could have just as easily left him to die. She could have left him suffocating on the floor of that cave instead of pushing herself and carrying him out. But she didn’t. And he couldn’t let her die.

“Freya,” Michael breathed, trembling hands hesitantly reaching to gently cup her jaw. His touch was light, barely there as he touched her broken skin, heart jumping in his throat at how soft she still felt. Most of his focus, though, was on her lack of breathing. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, Michael kept down the panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he said, “Not today, Freya. You’re not dying today.”

God knows Michael barely had energy left in him. His hands were quivering and he just only managed to regain his steady breathing, but he couldn’t feel Freya. He couldn’t feel any movement, nor could he hear her normally thready heartbeat. The whistle of the wind rang in Michael’s ear, but the shiver that crept down his spine was brought by the unmoving demon, burnt and near dead.

No. He wasn’t going to let her die.

Closing his eyes, Michael’s right hand left her jaw and he pressed his palm against Freya’s forehead, eyebrows knitting together as he felt the warmth of his grace engulf him comfortingly. He could feel his muscles straining as the power of his grace flowed through him, forehead creasing as his frown deepened, focusing all of his energy into giving it to Freya so she could heal. He desperately hoped it would be enough, trying not to let the increasing panic hinder his abilities to help her, gritting his teeth as he gave her as much as he could without completely draining himself too.

His words fell like a chant from his lips, fast, whispered and fierce. “Come on, come on, come on, come on.” Michael was close to depleting himself, knowing he hadn’t had enough time to recover before using his powers, letting out a sharp gasp as he cut himself off.

His breathing was heavy, head ducked as he tried to even it out, wincing at the strain of his body and the lack of angel grace that he knew would take a while to replenish. Michael tightened his expression, feeling a prickle of fear that lead to the inevitable act of opening his eyes, anxious that what he had to give hadn’t been enough as he breathed heavily, feeling the end of his blonde fringe tickle the bridge of his nose as his head remained ducked and body moved heavily with every breath he took.

And then he heard it.

It was faint, would’ve missed it if his ears weren’t so sharp. But it was there. A heartbeat.

Eyes shooting open, Michael lifted his head a bit to look at Freya, hand removing from her forehead as he realized, with an overwhelming wave of relief washing over him, that the burns on her skin were nowhere to be seen. It was like it had never been charred, smooth and flawless under his touch as his thumbs grazed her cheeks. “Freya,” he breathed, hand sliding up to brush away a few strands of her hair. “Open your eyes, Freya.”

Honestly, if he had to see the all blacks of demonic eyes, he’d be grateful.

With every moment that passed where she didn’t wake up, Michael could feel his heart climbing further up his chest and into his throat. Unlike many of his angelic brothers and sisters, Michael wasn’t the best at controlling his panic; if something went sideways, something he couldn’t prevent or help better, the tightness of his chest began suffocating him and all he could think of was the thundering of his heart between his ears rather than figuring out how to just stop.

He could feel his breathing pick up, throat drying as he breathed through his mouth and kept his hands on her face and closed his eyes to try and regulate himself. Her heart was beginning to increase into a steadier rhythm, he could hear it, and that should’ve been enough to reassure him that she was alive. But until he saw the hazel of her eyes, or even the black, for God’s sake, Michael wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Thought angels having halos was just bullshit lore.”

Her voice was a hoarse whisper, but it was enough to have Michael sucking in a sharp breath and opening his eyes, green meeting somewhat bleary hazel, and suddenly Michael’s lungs were overflowing with overwhelming air. He gasped when their eyes met, lips involuntarily lifting as his thumbs brushed across her cheekbones. She looked up at him, eyes glittering under the sun and her long lashes, lips parted as she breathed calmly.

He didn’t even register her words, the relief rushing through his ears as he let out a soft laugh. “You’re okay,” was all he could mutter out, hovering over her. The twigs were digging into his knees as he leaned above her, but Michael didn’t care. Not when she was breathing and looking up at him and making comments. “Thank God.”

The corner of Freya’s lips quirked into a half smirk, too exhausted for the whole thing, yet she still let out a soft grunt as she pushed herself up. Instinctively, Michael’s hands went from her cheeks to her shoulders to assist her, surprised and a bit relieved she didn’t push him away at his touch. Her chest moved steadily as she breathed, something Michael found himself focusing on because it had been a few minutes too many where her heart hadn’t been beating.

They sat closely, Michael with his legs folded beneath him as he remained at her side, breathing a bit heavily and green eyes trained on her face as she closed her eyes to get it together. Gently, his hand raised to get the few leaves stuck in her dark blonde strands out, pulling them away and letting them flutter to the ground. Freya opened her eyes, head slightly ducked, but gaze sliding over to Michael, whose complexion looked a bit paler. There was a look in her eyes, one that he hadn’t seen her wear from the short period of time he’s known her, as she stared at him. It was soft and sincere, one that kind of took Michael’s breath away because it wasn’t something he’d expected to be faced with.

And then she smiled. A small smile that was gentle across her features with hints of exhaustion underlying. Michael felt a tug in his chest when her hazel eyes dropped a little, going from his eyes to his lips, before she looked into his eyes once more. There was a numbing silence, not even the birds sounding in the distance, as Freya responded in a tone softer than he ever thought she was capable of, “God had nothing to do with it.” Her hand found his where it was resting on her shoulder, touch soft and electrifying that had Michael’s breath hitching in his throat as she looked at him. Something stirred in the pit of Michael’s stomach, and once again he couldn’t breathe. Only this time, it wasn’t nearly as painful. “It was all you.”

                                                     *****

Freya entered the bar, the music pounding in her head as she clicked her tongue in annoyance, fortunately not having to look around too much as she easily caught sight of Luke’s blonde head sitting at the end of the bar. Tugging at the lapels of her leather jacket, Freya walked over to him, settling on the empty stool to his left as she said in a form of greeting, “Figures I’d find you here.” Luke glanced at her as Freya kept her gaze ahead, eyes on the brunette working behind the bar. Folding her arms on top of the bar, Freya asked, “How is she?”

Luke’s gaze followed Freya’s to where Tameera was, concocting and serving drinks as a small smile lifted at his lips. “She’s good, thanks.” Hand wrapped around his glass of beer, Luke looked at Freya and asked, “What’re you doing here?”

Pursing her lips, Freya was silent for a moment, contemplating asking him what she had in mind. But her curiosity itched at her mind, as did some weird fucking heaviness in her chest that wouldn’t leave her alone. “I was wondering if. . .” She let out a slow exhale through her nose, hazel eyes meeting Luke’s blue as she asked, “How’s Michael doing? Last time I saw him, he wasn’t in the best shape.”

She distinctly remembered when she saw him last, paler than usual and green eyes a bit dull due to the lack of energy running through his body. He’d looked weak and she knew it was because he’d given her whatever bit of power he had left to bring her back from brink of death. Because that’s what had happened—she’d nearly died, the powerful magic the cave had been cursed with taking a stronger toll on her than she’d expected.

Michael had saved her life and, despite her initial and automatic irritance with the angel, Freya was grateful.

Luke eyed her, taking in the genuine curiosity in Freya’s expression, the hint of worry she’d failed to prevent from slipping into her voice. “He’s recovering,” he answered truthfully. “It took a lot out of him, healing you against that kind of magic. But he’ll be okay. He’s tough.”

Freya bit the inside of her cheek, well aware of the guilt that was twisting her stomach. She had never been one to care much about others, less than a handful of people she would step up for—one of who was sitting next to her. But Freya couldn’t get the image of Michael out of her head; of his pale face and dull eyes and ragged breathing. She had just barely gotten them out of the cave, and still they had suffered agonizingly, and he used what little power he had left to save her.

Letting out a slow breath, Freya picked at her dark nails before asking, “Is he on earth or upstairs?”

Before Luke could answer, a figure came to stand in front of them on the other side of the bar, and a familiar voice greeted, “Hey, Freya—can I get you a drink?”

The blonde demon looked ahead, catching sight of Tameera standing with her hands braced on the bar, an easy smile on her face as she raised her eyebrows. Freya wasn’t able to keep herself from smiling back in greeting. Tameera was probably the only human she could actually enjoy the company of. And, surprisingly, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was the love of the King of Hell’s life. The few times she’s been around Tameera, Freya genuinely liked hanging out with her. She wasn’t insolent and irritating like the many other humans Freya had encountered.

And when she had found out what Luke’s father had done to her, what he’d done to Luke, Freya had been all too willing to put a knife through the former king herself. The only reason she hadn’t was because Luke had prevented her from doing so. She would’ve died trying.

“Just a gin and tonic, thanks,” Freya responded, the smile on her lips sincere towards the bartender. Tameera nodded with a smile, throwing a wink towards Luke before turning to prepare the drink.

Once she was gone, Luke answered Freya’s question with, “Upstairs.” Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, “Why, you thinking of visiting?”

Freya pursed her lips, returning her gaze to her hands resting on the table. “I owe him a debt.”

Luke swallowed the sip of his beer, pulling his lips back as savored the taste of it. His curls hung past his ears and not for the first time Freya thought he looked too much like an angel to be the King of Hell. “From what he told me, you saved his life first so I don’t think you do,” he said, a knowing tone in his voice.

Pressing her tongue to the floor of her mouth, Freya let her gaze wander around the bar. Colorful and bustling with people enjoying themselves, and Freya rolled her lips into her mouth. All around her were smiling, happy faces as the humans talked to one another, drank and danced and minded their own business. She watched them with a vacant expression, though her thoughts were running wildly in her mind, conflicting and clashing, enough to prompt a bleeding headache.

The try, and that is enough. Michael’s voice echoed through her head, and Freya bit the inside of her cheek in exasperated annoyance. They weren’t doing anything special in this moment, not in this bar, save for mingling and getting drunk. Yet Michael’s words were still ringing, still urging her to see the better side of humans, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why he was having such an effect on her. How many angels, in the years she’d been around, have told Freya to give humanity a chance? How many times did she laugh in their face and tell them to shove their hopeful and optimistic view of humans up their ass?

Why was it that she was actually giving it consideration when the words had been spoken by Michael?

Why was she considering values and perspectives that vehemently went against everything she knew as a demon?

Tameera appearing into view and placing her drink in front of her pulled Freya out of her thoughts, automatically flashing a smile towards the brunette as she reached for her glass. She paid no attention to the actual conversation Tameera and Luke were having, but Freya did watch them from the side. She noted the easy grin that slipped onto Luke’s face whenever Tameera came into view, watched the dimples deepen in his cheeks and bright blue eyes glow a little livelier when he talked to the woman he loved. And something in Freya’s chest. . . Tugged.

Despite Luke being half angel, there was still a half of him that was demon, and still he managed to completely and utterly fall in love with a human.

And if he wasn’t proof enough, Freya knew for a fact that Calum had his own human that he’d fallen for. Granted, Calum’s girl had some angel history, but she was mostly human. And Calum, a high ranking demon, part of the King’s Guard, had still fallen in love with her. He had just as much of a tainted view of humanity as Freya did, as demons they were practically bred for it. So for him to hold a human life so near and dear, for her King to be willing to die for a human. . . It was suddenly making Freya question everything.

She never would’ve if it weren’t for Michael. She’d never given Luke and Calum’s love lives much thought, until Michael came along. Michael, Michael, Michael. That damned angel was clouding her thoughts and Freya was beginning to get a headache. He was making her reconsider beliefs she’s lived by for over a hundred years, and while Freya was not one to be scared by much, if not anything, she could feel the prickle of terror in her bones because of this. Because of one angel who’d said a few sentences to her and suddenly she was reevaluating everything.

Why did what he say fucking matter to her so much?

Freya glanced at Tameera and Luke, and her throat closed up. Maybe she knew, but the answer was too rattling for her to acknowledge.

Suppressing a scoff, Freya took a large sip of the drink despite it having no effect on her. She just enjoyed the burn of it. One fucking angel and suddenly Freya had no idea what to think.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Luke’s question pulled Freya out of her conflicting thoughts, turning to look at him and receiving the knowing look he wore. Tameera was back attending the bar, leaving just the two of them, and Freya tried to keep her usual bored expression on her face. But she could feel herself failing, could feel the startled expression cross her face as she stupidly denied, “No, I don’t.”

He pursed his lips at her, unimpressed, before he clicking tongue. “No point in lying to me, Freya. I’m the King of Hell, I know things.” This time, she had no problem with shooting him her own flat expression, earning a low chuckle from Luke as he conceded, “Alright, I know you. You’ve never asked twice about anyone before, even those you’ve worked on multiple assignments with. And now you work one with Michael and you’re asking after him, an angel, no less?”

Freya could feel the blood rush away from her face, could feel the dryness in her throat itch at her at Luke’s words. He wasn’t wrong—she was indifferent in that sense, basically uncaring when it came to others. Luke and Calum were the only other people that Freya, in her own way, cared about. They understood her and she did them, except when it came to the people they’d consequently fallen in love with. She hadn’t understood it, this love they felt for human girls, but Freya would never dare speak against it despite her own distaste for humans. Not when she knew these particular girls made the only people Freya considered friends so unconditionally happy.

So for Luke to suggest that Freya may feel something for Michael, something she was having trouble grasping in the first place. . . It was unnerving.

But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

Her gaze dropped to her half empty glass, and Freya’s jaw clenched. “An angel and a demon,” she murmured, voice low. “It’ll never work.”

Luke scoffed disapprovingly. “Says fucking who? If Meera and I can make it work, hell if Cal and Mia can, then so can you and Mike.”

Freya looked at Luke, could see how strongly he believed in his words, yet the seed of doubt remained planted. It was a tree that was already growing watered by her fear of she didn’t know what, and for the first time, Freya worried that she wasn’t strong enough to cut it down.

                                                        *****

It was ironic, really, how humans believed they would reach peace if they got to heaven. Meanwhile Michael, an Angel of the Lord, felt at his most relaxed when he was on earth. He’d spent the first day, after arriving back from his assignment appointed by Luke, up in heaven only to grow tired of the familiar surroundings. Sometimes it felt as though time stayed still in heaven, and while an angel who’s been around as long as Michael honestly had no conception of time anymore, it felt like nothing was happening. It made healing seem to stretch on even longer.

So he found himself on earth—more specifically, a park bench with the sun shining down on him and the birds chirping. Or, at least, that’s how it had started, seeing as the sun had been replaced by the moon and instead of birds chirping, he could hear the clicking of bugs around him. He’d been sitting out there all day, listening to the hours pass around him, watching less and less people grace the park before the sun set and everyone went home.

But Michael didn’t care. He remained seated on the wooden bench, eyes closed and head tilted back as the cool breeze tickled his skin. There was no wind in heaven. Michael breathed in the fresh air, acutely remembering the sensation of not being able to breathe at all in that cursed cave, feeling the lungs of his vessel expanding with every inhale and filling him up wonderfully. It was rare that he appreciated the act of breathing, only reveling in it after it nearly being taken from him.

“Just our luck—one of God’s bitches for us to play with.”

Michael cracked open an eye, gaze automatically drifting to two familiar figures approaching him, a wave of exasperation washing over him as he recognized the demons. One of them was Vincent and the other was Cesar, a demon Michael had a few encounters with over the years, none of them particularly pleasant. He sneered at Michael, the disdain and hostility clear on his twisted features, and Michael suppressed a sigh despite feeling the tense danger lingering in the air. The last thing he needed was to deal with a bunch of pissy demons when he hadn’t fully healed. Michael would be the first to admit that he was still weak, and he didn’t need Cesar and his buddies taking advantage of that.

“Don’t you two have some poor souls to torture?” Michael drawled, still seated on the bench as he raised an eyebrow at them. He kept his gaze on them as they came to stand in front of him, just a few feet ahead, his body tensing in preparation for a fight he knew was coming but wasn’t entirely ready to partake in. “Or is that too above your pay grade?”

The sarcasm in his tone wasn’t lost on any of the demons, and Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly amused at how almost immediately Cesar pulled out his blade, Vincent following suit like a good little soldier. That didn’t take long at all.

Michael’s body ached as he came to stand on his feet, feeling what was left of his grace rush through him fiercely, racing to heal him while trying to regenerate at the same time. He couldn’t transport out of there; getting himself down to earth through one of heaven’s portals had been draining enough, and if Michael tried to transport, he knew he’d be stalling his healing that much longer. Who knows how far he’d be able to get anyway.

“You’ve got quite a mouth for someone who’s about to die,” Cesar growled, his grip on the knife tightening before he snapped, “Vincent.”

His second in command charged forward, his own dagger ready to cause harm, swiping it in the air and Michael knew that he was too slow to move, could feel it when the end of Vincent’s weapon sliced across his right cheek to leave a shallow cut. Michael couldn’t help the wince that shuddered through him as he stumbled back, knowing he wouldn’t have even registered the cut had it not been for the fact that he was already so week. He tried to straighten, raising the blade he held, cursing when he saw Vincent go for another hit.

Michael raised his left arm, blocking the attack, using the back of his blade to hit Vincent’s temple and watched as he stumbled back. But just as the demon straightened, ready and capable for more, Michael felt the air slice past him as a dagger flew by, watching in surprise as it dug itself in the middle of Vincent’s stomach. Michael watched incredulously, just like Cesar, as Vincent yelled out an agonizing scream and his dark skin flashed with red electricity, a tell-tale sign of a demon’s death, before he fell to the ground. He was dead, and Michael stared at his body in bewilderment, unsure of what just happened as he breathed heavily. Not being at his full power made it difficult to breathe, and he was getting quite sick of it.

“How fucking bored are you to pick a fight you’re not gonna win?”

Michael straightened, the air rushing out of his lungs as he looked over his shoulder, feeling his heart stutter at the sight of Freya. She stood a few feet away, expression thunderous and arms crossed over her chest. Her glare was directed at Cesar, tight and murderous, as she began walking to where he and Michael stood.

Cesar stared at her, both incredulous and unabashedly pissed the fuck off, as he demanded, “What the fuck did you do?”

Michael couldn’t keep his gaze off of Freya, wondrous and in awe as she walked past him, heated glare remaining on Cesar as she stood a few feet in front of Michael. “Got rid of a piece of shit who’d rather listen to you than be loyal to the king,” Freya responded, her tone carrying that familiar edge to it, though this time the harshness wasn’t lost on Michael. She was just as pissed as Cesar, if not more. “Michael is Luke’s friend. You really think you’d get away with trying to kill him?”

Cesar’s scowl shifted towards Michael, who instinctively wiped off whatever he felt for Freya and returned the stare with an intense glare of his own, jaw tight and shoulders squared. “He’s an angel,” Cesar spat, as if the word itself was poison in his mouth.

Freya’s hands clenched into fists, and Michael wondered if she cared for the way her nails were most likely digging into her palms. “He’s my angel,” she stated tightly, her words hitching the breath in Michael’s throat as he stared at her back in surprise. His heart drummed in his chest; was it a slip of a tongue? Did she mean it? Her angel? “And he’s the king’s friend. He would—”

“He’s a fool, not a king, working with the likes of angels and defiling the King’s Guard by putting you in it,” Cesar cut in sharply, the hatred clear in his voice that had Michael clenching his jaw tightly. “Luke will never be the king his father was.”

Michael raised his chin from where he stood two steps behind Freya, voice confident and sure as he declared, “He’ll be better.”

Cesar’s eyes locked on Michael’s green ones, a scoff escaping him before sneering, “He cares too much. Hell will never accept him.”

“It already has,” Freya retorted, the fire in her voice never dissipating. She was pissed, Michael could tell, from the rigidness of her shoulders and the tightness of her voice. “Just because he refuses to be the tyrant his father was, and because he chose to fall in love, doesn’t mean he won’t make a good king. He’ll be better for it.”

Cesar was far from convinced, laughing mockingly. “Love is a pathetic human notion. No one cares for the King of Hell who loved.”

“It’s a notion they got right.” For a moment, Michael didn’t believe what he just heard, gaping at Freya as he wondered if his ears had deceived him. Had she just agreed on a largely human concept? Does she stand by it? He had so many questions as he felt his chest tighten at the wondrous thought of Freya claiming a different perspective than the one she was so used to, but he kept silent for now as the scene in front of him played out. Michael noted the way Freya’s right hand, behind her back, wrapped around the blade tucked into the waist of her pants. He watched, quiet and knowing and in slight disbelief, as Freya responded evenly to an oblivious Cesar, “No one cares for those who try to stop him. Especially me.”

She flung the blade out with a curl of her wrist and within an eye’s blink it was buried in the middle of Cesar’s chest, Michael’s green eyes taking in the pained contortion of his face, a startled yell leaving Cesar as his body flashed with the familiar undercurrent of red electricity, right before collapsing lifelessly to the ground. And just like that, with a dagger to the chest, the demon was dead, his body joining that of Vincent’s.

Michael pursed his lips as his eyes went to Freya, whose back was still to him as she stepped towards Cesar and pulled her knife out, wiping the blood off on Cesar’s shirt and standing straight, before he questioned, “Are you hiding any more daggers under there or am I safe?”

She let out a scoff at his words, turning around to finally look at him, and Michael was a bit surprised at the frown that drew together her eyebrows. Giving a subtle shake of her head to move away wisps of her dirty blonde hair, Freya tucked the dagger back in as she asked, “You really think I’d use it on you?”

His gaze remained on her, taking in the way she stood in front of him, confident in all her glory and utterly beautiful. Michael wasn’t exactly sure when he started thinking of a demon as beautiful—hell, he wasn’t even sure when he started to look past Freya’s blackened soul, the small feat not as important to him as it should be to an angel. Instead, he saw her for who she was, what made Freya into who she was along with that kind of soul; fierce and loyal to those she cared for, and unafraid to show it.

He had tried not to think of how he’d developed these feelings for Freya, not quite understanding them himself, but he’s seen the way Luke acted around Tameera, heard the way Calum spoke about Mia, knew Ashton had his own situation with Haley, and Michael knew that if they were capable of experiencing what they did, why should he be any different? Demons and angels and hybrids of the two fell in love; why couldn’t he?

Of course, leave it to him to utterly fall, in the shortest amount of time, for someone who could put him down with a single look. But, truthfully, Michael wouldn’t have it any other way.

So he smiled, gentle with an airy chuckle escaping him as he answered, “No, I don’t.”

Michael saw the satisfaction mixed with a subtle hint of relief relax her expression, watched as Freya took the few steps towards him to come stand in front of him. She wasn’t that much shorter than him, nearly meeting his eye line, and Michael couldn’t help the way his throat worked when her hand came up to let her fingers gently brush away his blonde fringe before trailing under the fresh cut on his cheek. It was a gentle touch, one that he, at one point, didn’t think Freya was capable of, feeling something tighten in his stomach when the warmth of her tender touch flushed through his body. Her hazel eyes seemed to be glittering under the moonlight, stealing his breath effortlessly.

Freya licked her lips, her gaze going from the cut to meet his green eyes, stating disappointedly, “You’re an idiot for trying to take on the two of them in your weakened state.”

Even still, Michael could hear the fondness she let slip into her voice, a tone he hadn't heard from her before, one he wished to hear forever. The way the corners of his lips quirked couldn’t be helped, raising a lazy eyebrow as he responded softly, “But I’m your idiot, aren’t I? Isn’t that what you said—my angel?”

He saw the way her throat worked, saw the crack in her perpetual indifferently badass expression, and it made his heart swell at the knowledge of him probably being the only one able to get that kind of reaction out of her. Especially the hint of pink warming her cheeks. It was a sight he’d be hard pressed to forget. She tried to play it off, pressing her index finger to the center of his chest, her nail a pleasant pressure on his skin as she narrowed her eyes slightly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Michael assured with a shake of his head, his smile widening, biting down on his lower lip as he watched Freya’s gaze drop to his mouth. What he was feeling for her in that moment stirred something in the pit of his stomach, made the grace and blood in his body race even faster. “I’m just saying—you’re right. I am your angel.” The way her lips parted ever so slightly at his words had Michael smiling even more, realizing he caught her off guard with his admittance, and he lifted his chin as he added teasingly, “And you’re my cute demon.”

Instantly Freya scoffed with a roll of her eyes, arms crossing over her chest as she shot him a bemused look. “Don’t call me cute. I’m not cute.”  

His grin widened because Michael never expected to see Freya, a badass demon in her own right, pout. But then he let out a breath as he gazed at her, feeling something tug in his chest as he watched her watch him, and Michael couldn’t help but absently let slip, “You’re beautiful.”

A silence settled upon them as Freya’s own expression softened at Michael’s comment, rolling her lips gently into her mouth as she uncrossed her arms and slid her hands into the back pocket of his pants. A breeze blew behind Freya, blonde hair swaying over her shoulder as her throat worked. Michael could see a struggle being battled within her eyes, staying patiently silent as he waited for her to figure out what she needed to say.

“I can’t just. . . Completely turn over a new leaf,” she finally spoke, her voice not at all carrying its usual edge, utterly soft. Freya pressed her lips together, offering a brief close mouthed smile. “I can’t get rid of nearly two hundreds years of my beliefs but I. . . I’m willing to make a change. To try and be who you want me to be.”

At that, Michael’s eyebrows drew together as he gave a shake of his head, taking a step closer to her. “I don’t want you to change who you are,” he told her truthfully, hating that she even had that idea in the first place. “That wouldn’t be fair to you, Freya. You’re a demon and I’m an angel and it—we are who we are. We know our place in the world, in heaven and hell.” His hands found her cheeks, feeling her lean into one of his palms and the gentle smile on his face returned. “An angel and demon together isn’t unheard of, yeah? We can make it work.”

“Really?” she questioned, gaze meeting his, the curl of her lips providing the small smirk Michael had easily come to adore. “You think you can learn to love my jet black heart and soul?”

His throat worked, stomach churning excitedly and Michael couldn’t help but think how human this all felt. “I’ve seen your loyalty and your care. You’ve got a heart of gold in there, Freya,” he told her, watching as her smirk transitioned into a smile she couldn’t control, felt the way her cheeks warmed under his touch. And in that moment Michael realized that, of course, he’d fallen for her so easily. How could he not? He swallowed, heart pounding, before admitting, “And I already love you. It’s not something I have to learn.”

Freya tensed under his touch, her eyes widening ever so slightly at his confession, and for a moment Michael feared he’d said it too soon, too quickly before she was ready. But he didn’t see any panic in the surprise of her eyes, and soon he saw a kind of softness melt into her hazel irises that damn near took his breath away. Especially when she smiled, real and honest and heaven sent, as her hand fisted the front of his shirt and she returned with a laugh, “God fucking bless.”

Freya pulled him in then, lips meeting his in a kiss they both yearned for desperately, and Michael wanted to be this close to her for as long as possible. The electricity that rushed through him felt more healing than his grace, losing himself in her as the hair of his unshaven beard gloriously scratched at Freya’s skin as her lips worked against his. It was almost relieving, being this close, being so in tune with how his heart was lurching and blood was rushing and how good she felt against him. Being an angel already meant his senses were more powerful than that of a human’s; but kissing Freya made him feel damn near indestructible.

They pulled away moments later, breaths heavy and foreheads pressed together, closed eyes allowing them to savor the warmth and taste of the other. This would work, Michael knew. Relationships between angels and demons weren’t unheard of, though they were frowned upon, but Michael couldn’t quite care about the rules. Not when this felt so good, so right. He’d be changed in the eyes of his fellow angels, but he’d have his friends. He’d have Freya. And that’s all that mattered.

Any semblance of doubt that may have lingered vanished completely, wholeheartedly, when Freya whispered, “I love you too, angel.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie14 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @livibii123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @thew0rdneedsmcreycghurt @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @hoodsmelancholy @iplaybassfor5sos @josierosie @cal-pal-cuddles @calsophat @cashton-queen @sublimehood @bloodlinecal @flannelpunkcalum @ghostofch @ghostofhood @5sos-stan4lyfe @notsooperfect @calllumhood 

[franklyshipping]

Never Disturb A Sleeping Cowboy ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

THIS IS A LOVELY ANONYMOUS PROMPT WHICH I AM VERY EXCITED TO WRITE, BETWEEN OUR SNAZZY COWBOY AND SNAZZY MONARCH OF NUTTINESS! LEEET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @ed-edler @king-of-lee-squirrels and @kingoflesquirrel

A bit of peace and quiet shouldn't be too much to ask for, right? I mean, all it really takes is going somewhere, nice, safe, comfortable and secluded, right? Well, at least that's what Ed Edgar figured to be the case as he lay on a patch of grass in the comforting shadow of an oak tree. After a day of hard work, the cowboy just wanted a nap which the faint scent of grass and flowers around him. He got so close to getting it too, he was lying down, relaxed, and with his hat over his face to shield him from the bright afternoon as he shut his eyes....but it was not to be. Ed Edgar's relaxation was cut short....by a nut.

It was a walnut to be precise, and to be fair the dropping of this particular walnut had been a complete and total accident. The King of the Squirrels had been relaxing in the tree above the cowboy, hardly aware of his presence since he was fixated on arranging some walnuts in his hand by size. Unfortunately, he had fumbled with one and dropped it, which caused it to fall...and land right in the brim of Ed's hat. Thankfully Ed hadn't thought much of it, simply squirming to get comfy once more with a little sigh.

'C'mon mother nature let me naaaap.....'

King covered his mouth to repress a laugh, mainly due to how surprised he was that he managed to land the nut right into the brim of Ed's hat by accident! The monarch hummed to himself as he observed the grumbling man beneath him....oh part of him wanted to let him rest....and yet another, stronger part of him was really very bored. Unfortunately for King, the boredom took precedence when it came to King's decision making....and that decision being that the monarch was going to see how many more nuts he could land on Ed's hat.

The monarch ended up huffing in annoyance when his first two purposeful drops missed Ed's hat by a mile, and the next two, and the next three. But the King was determined....and that determination allowed one to land. Then, a second one landed on its mark....and Ed had HAD it. Ed growled and ripped off his hat, intending to look up and glare at the tree before finding one to nap under that didn't grow nuts. When he looked up and saw King with a hand full of nuts however...his agenda swiftly changed.

'Who in the hecki-King? What in tarnation?!'

The cowboy narrowed his eyes up at the monarch.

'Were you throwing those down onto me?'

Ed spoke accusingly, to which King mustered up the most innocent expression that he could, along with a soft smile down at Ed as he replied.

'Oh my goodness, Edward I simply do not know what on earth you are tal-'

'Oh don't give me that Mr Regal Schmegal crap, I know it was you!'

Ed could see through the innocence from a mile away, using his full first name was enough. As Ed jabbed his finger up at King, the monarch merely rolled his eyes and let the façade drop, swinging his legs as he remarked casually.

'Well you're the one who sat under my tree.'

Ed scoffed, sitting up straighter as he regarded King with a raised eyebrow and disbelief. King never ceased to amaze him with how brazen he could be, I mean sure he was random and eccentric, but he really took his royal status to heart and embodied it quite a lot.

'So you're saying that out of every single tree here, this SPECIFIC one is in fact yours?'

King looked down at Ed's pursed lips and thought for a moment. I mean, technically all the trees in the woodland were his, but there was brazen cheekiness and then there was being a true asshole; King preferred being the former of those. He replied promptly.

'Yes.'

'Bull!'

'We don't get cows in the woods Edward, if so my subjects would have spotted them.'

King smirked subtly, continuing to swing his legs and feet from his position straddling a comfortable branch. Ed gritted his teeth....Ed had a thing about smart asses.

'You think you're so smart don'tcha?'

The cowboy was getting more and more riled every second, I mean smugness aside, this guy had had the audacity to stop him from resting without even batting an eye! Ed anticipated maybe teaching this monarch a lesson, though he wasn't sure, he was still a little tired....

'Well this IS my habitat, and kingdom in fact....'

Ed narrowed his eyes....I think that tiredness was temporarily forgotten now. King smiled to himself, since he was having rather a lot of fun teasing Ed...until he felt a hand latch tight onto one of his swinging ankles. King looked down, and froze at seeing Ed wearing a dark smirk.

'I think a certain King has gotten too big for his boots.'

Before King knew it, he'd been tugged off of his low hanging branch and forced onto the forest floor, only able to let out a yelp as Ed completely overpowered him. Ed smirked in triumph as he pinned the spluttering King on his tummy before sitting on his shins, and snickering as King's bare feet caught his eye.

'Or lack of.'

King flushed with embarrassment....shoes and socks just felt constricting okay! He scrunched his feet as he grasped at the earthy floor, whilst trying to sound defiant.

'Unhand me! I'll set my subjects on you for this!'

Ed hummed amusedly at that....since there were no squirrels, or any other similar woodland creatures to be seen. He set about picking a tuft of soft grass, stroking through the soft blades and holding them in his fist so the tips of the grass blades were all nice and close together. After he finished his little construction, he purred.

'And how will you do that when you're too busy laughing to give any orders?'

King barely had time to register the sentence in his brain before Ed's intentions suddenly became very, VERY clear to him. Ed had begun stroking up and down his soles with the grass blades, making King splutter and giggle with embarrassment at the soft tickling. He couldn't let this happen, he was a King darnit he couldn't just let himself be humiliated like this!

'L-Lehehet me gohoho lehet m-mehe gohoho nohow!'

....unfortunately, he didn't sound as tough as he'd wanted to sound. Ed smirked broadly at this, loving how tittery and ticklish the monarch was.

'Not until you apologise to me for being a dick.'

Ed chuckled, particularly when King spluttered and tittered even more because of his embarrassment. First off, he was being nothing like a piece of genitalia and frankly King found that to be EXTREMELY inappropriate! Secondly, he wasn't going to apologise just because he demanded it!

'Ihihi w-wihihill d-doho noho suhuhuch thihing! Ihi aham a K-Kihing!'

Ed snorted and rolled his eyes at his reply, he felt sooo intimidated by King's jumpy, giggly tone right now; he'd known it was a long shot asking for an apology so soon anyhow. Ed smiled, settling himself properly on King's shins and ankles as he took to swiping under King's toes with the blades of grass.

'Then I guess I'll be tickling your royal tootsies for all eternity, your majesty.'

Ed used the royal title snidely as King squealed and hit the forest floor, his giggles becoming rather frantic as he scrunched his toes to defend their oh so sensitive undersides.

'Yohohou cahahan't yohou cahahan't!'

Ed hummed as he regarded King, before tossing the grass aside; he definitely needed a harder tool of some kind to really break through to King.

'Hmmm, seems like you need a little more convincing about who's really in charge here....'

Ed mused before, unseen to King, his eyes lit up and he picked up two long, thin objects from the forest floor. Meanwhile, King panted, trying to keep himself together despite knowing that the tickling was going to get worse. Nonetheless, King took in a breath, licked a little of his peanut butter beard for moral support, before attempting to replying insistently.

'I-Ihin MY k-kingdom I am in char-AAEEE WHAHAT IHIS THAHAT?!'

King's verbal plan was cut off by his own shriek, followed by his hysterical, hiccup-filled giggling. Ed had picked up the most perfect pair of fine, sharp twigs from the forest floor and had started swiping them up and down King's soles happily. One sharp, precise, tickly twig per foot.

'Y'know I always found twigs annoying, they always stuck in my back whenever I tried to rest or nap outside. I never knew they could be so wonderfully effective!'

Ed mused, putting in a little dramatic effect; he blamed associating with so many Extra™ egos for his little dramatic streak. Ed was serious when he said he liked the twigs now though, they could scratch into wrinkles that fingers could not, and they were harsher than blades of grass could ever be. Plus, they were tickling King and making him blush and scrunch his feet pretty damn hard, so they were clearly doing a good job.

'IHI'LL GEHET YOHOU FOR THIHIHIHIS!'

Ed chuckled, King's threats just sounded cuter and cuter by the second. He experimentally flicked the twig tips over the royal's toe pads as he crooned in response.

'Oh yeah, and how will ya do that? I don't see any of your subjects out here rushing to your aid your majesty....'

King shrieked and arched his back, squeezing his eyes shut as his cackles made his entire body shake with mirth. He totally didn't have his eyes closed in an attempt to ignore the fact that Ed was right and that his subjects were most likely just watching their King being tickle tortured, nopety nope noooope.

'YOHOHOU WIHILL RUHUHUHUE THIHIS DAHAHAHAY!!'

King cried, consumed by embarrassment; especially when he heard Ed snort in amusement as he continued the evil twig tickling technique.

'Uh huh uh huh, I'm not hearing an ''I'm sorry''.'

Oh that smug, stetson-wearing peasant! Despite the torturousness of it all, King was far too proud to let himself be beaten by this. Kings were strong, and he was no different.

'AHAHAND YOHOU'RE NAHAT GEHEHETTING OHONE!!'

Ed huffed with gritted teeth, growling as he tossed the twigs aside. Damn he was strong. He knew plenty of egos that would have babbled apologies as soon as those sharp twigs reached their precious toes, but not King. Ed had to think. This guy was a King of the wild, always outside in nature, so maybe he just needed a rougher treatment than most; plus, with how riled Ed was right now, he was more than happy to provide that kind of treatment. Ed turned his head, looking down at the monarch who had his face tilted to the side. Perfect....he could say this right to his face.

'You have NO idea what you're letting yourself in for. You're dealing with the tired, ruthless version of me Kingy, and that's the version of me that'll be more than happy to make you scream out an apology!'

....King ordinarily might have laughed at how much Ed's moustache twitched as he talked, but the things Ed was saying, the way he was talking....sent so many chills down King's spine. He could see that Ed meant every single word that he said....and King had a sneaking suspicion that even if he did apologise now, Ed would go all out on him before he actually had mercy, he was just that riled. So, King mustered up a smile at the cowboy. If he was going to be tortured, he was going to show his strong attitude first.

'Ahall I hear are words and words and words cowboy....'

King's smile was toothy and smug, since even though he had a hint of fear of what Ed was going to do, he didn't think it would be THAT bad. I mean, twigs were the most tickly things that the forest floor was currently offering....so King didn't even fathom the prospect of Ed actually having his own tool on him. But he did. Granted, he had never anticipated using it for anything other than polishing his boots, but once Ed remembered having the sharply bristled brush in his butt pocket, all thoughts of boot cleaning were cast aside.

'You wanna play tough, pretend you're the big strong leader, fine.....I can play tough too.'

Ed's eyes darkened with ruthlessness as he took out the brush....and started scrubbing King's soles with it. Needless to say, all King could do was scream.

'AHHHHHHAHAHAHAAA AAAAHHHHH!!!'

It was just maddening and insane and just the definition of tickle torture. King was writhing with mirth and regret whilst Ed smirked with delight at seeing King's soles already going a cute pink.

'Ahaaawww, can someone not take a lil scrubby scruuub?'

King thrashed and shook his head with wide eyes because no he could NOT handle it! His screams and shrieks were loud and getting shriller by the second.

'STAHAHAHAHAAAAA IHIHIHAHAHAHAAAA CAHAAAA!!!'

He was seriously going....nuts (yes Ed did chuckle at his own joke a little), and Ed couldn't have been happier, tickle punishments were very much his forte. He snickered happily at the incoherency, scrubbing the balls of King's feet now as he mused.

'One little word, one niiiice little word and it'll all stop.'

As King clenched his fists and struggled and struggled, he knew he had to make it stop....he had to...even if that meant submission.

'SSSAAAA-AHAHAHA!!! SAHAHAHAAARRYYYY!!!'

Ed chuckled and crowed at King's cry, removing the brush immediately.

'Theeeere ya go!'

King gasped desperately, his fists clenching around soil and leaves for comfort as he panted and shivered in the wake of it all. His feet tingled, and King was in shock because never in his life had he felt tickling like that before. Since Ed had slid off his shins, he found the strength to turn onto his side and start to sit up as he whispered.

'Whahat...w-wahas th-that?'

Ed smiled fondly at his innocent question, and held up the brush for King to see; of course, this very much sent the monarch into a state of flustered, wide-eyed awe.

'Ya like it?'

Ed teasingly asked, before giggling at how King swiftly turned his head away out of embarrassment whilst sitting up properly. Ed tucked the tool away with a grin as King mumbled.

'Y-You d-didn't HAVE to use it o-on me....'

Ed smirked, damn he was adorable when he was all meek. He nudged King's shoulder gently as he replied.

'Well, you were kinda being a brat, I had to break ya somehow!'

....dammit, King couldn't help but smile at that, and he nudged Ed back softly as he looked back at him. Then though, as the King looked at Ed and saw his slightly drooping expression and lazy blinking, he remembered why the cowboy had been here in the first place. King straightened up as his idea came to the forefront of his mind.

'H-How about, as an additional apology...'

King unclasped his red, fur lined cloak and offered it to Ed with a soft smile.

'I watch over you as you rest, since you are in my kingdom it is only fair that I am a good host for you.'

Ed blinked a few times, then had to fight a little blush of his own at how kind and sweet King was being. He hadn't even been thinking about his tiredness, until now though, because now he could feel the need for a nap washing over him. He smiled and accepted the cloak, before settling down on the ground and snuggling into its blanket-like warmth.

'Thank you King....I feel safer already.'

King smiled fondly at that, and as Ed got the much needed sleep he deserved, King kept guard. And I can assure you that he made sure no-one, and I mean no-one, disturbed his sleeping cowboy.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS ONE LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[peeterparkr]

Romeo & Juliet|t.h

The Forbidden.

Two people who shouldn’t fall in love with each other met at the wrong time. Maybe there’s some feelings hidden underneath all that hate.

word count: 5.2k

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

warnings: alcohol, implicity, swearing, angst

tell me if you like it, if you don’t and if you want a part 2

And yes, this was the fic I deleted. I gave it a complete new concept and I’m anxious about this but here goes. Special thanks to @marvelousxtsh and @spider-gwenscanary for being my beta readers 💜

It was a waste, a complete waste. Needles to say and add but, yes you were both as well, wasted. It was everything that shouldn’t and couldn’t happen, and you knew that perfectly clear. And you had both ignored it, forgot about it and then continued with your hating routine. Or at least he had said it was just a one time thing, one hung that couldn’t be spoken, but it kept repeating. Because it was forbidden, but the forbidden suddenly becomes more interesting. You hated him, you had reminded yourself, when it had ended. What a waste. Such a shame you couldn’t quite understand it. But he became what you were the best at keeping. He became a secret. What a complete waste of a secret. You weren’t in love with him, and it was just amazing how everyone tried to point out how you were. Except that you probably were. As if. They were oh, so wrong. You hated him, with his silly face, his silly hair and his silly suits, his silly gaze, his stupid smile, his stupid voice and his stupid personality. Everything about him made your stomach burn with rage. So cocky. But he was a friend of Haz, so you had to deal with it. Harrison’s best friend, actually. You had to deal with Harrison too, your best friend was dating him and ever since they met they had tried multiple times to make you and Tom pair up. Needless to say, all chances had failed when they had tried, at least. It seemed that on your own you had worked it out perfectly. You had met him in the worst scenario. It was a blind date, and it all began like that. Your friend, Andrea had set you up with her boyfriend’s best friend. Your pure hatred had only grown from there. They had been sure you were both meant for each other, how wrong they were. He had been keen on making sure you hated him from the very first moment. He had arrived late, with a pair of ripped blue jeans, whilst you were wearing a nice dress and heels, thank you very much. You got past that, until you were in his car and he didn’t even know where to go for your date. You got past that. You didn’t even get to talk while he was already being called by another girl. You got past that. He flirted with the waitress. You didn’t get past that, but ignored it. The date was awful, and he kept on calling you boring and you kept calling him a player. The date ended with both of you so tired of the other, and agreed to never see each other again. Surprise, surprise, you had to see him again. And it wasn’t pretty, he had continued to act like the asshole he had been. Later you learned from Andrea that Tom hadn’t been on his best days when he had had a date with you, and if you were completely honest with yourself, neither had you. You had both been through complicated times and ended up spilling it on each other. At every single reunion that involved Haz and Andrea, you had to see Tom. You ended up fighting, and soon enough the hate banter began to catch a form, a rather silly fun way of getting on each other’s nerves. It was actually funny how every time you two ended up alone you both ended up insulting each other. He was cocky, so self centered and you were just so boring to him. Of course, when he got cast as Spider-Man it blew to his head, and it had continued blowing. So you couldn’t stand him anymore, but of course it gave you more ideas to insult him. Such an amazing hate relationship, which only grew stronger and stronger into a game of hate with a tinge of hidden flirting. You had a point, though, you didn’t particularly liked the way he pranced arrogantly and tried to humiliate you. He always tried to break you. He didn’t cross any borders, though. He knew when to stop. If Tom wanted, he could actually be nice. Nice came short to what he was. The thing with Tom was that eventually he had been the only one to see you out of your bubble. You guessed Tom and you grew close when he had seen you completely defeated. Let’s say a breakup, you had lost your job, and all the bad things that could happen in a day had happened. From a broken heel, to a broken coffee machine. Bad luck. Everything that could make you feel bad, it had happened that day. And you didn’t want Andrea to show up, or your parents, or anybody. Because you didn’t want them to know how lost you felt. You had been engaged to the guy who had broken up with you. He said he was tired how you kept everything to yourself. But opening up meant a lot, and you weren’t sure if you needed anything like that. You couldn’t.

But you had touched bottom, and that was when Tom showed up. You didn’t even know why he had showed up that day, probably just to add more to that shitty day, but he was at your door, while you were on your pjs and your mascara all ran over your face. He saw you while you were weak. He had come to talk to you, but didn’t even tell you what he wanted to talk about. You were hesitant at the beginning, because all he did was throw shade at you or mock you. He usually just hurt you. But he saw you defeated. And he hadn’t even mentioned it, and you had tried to fight him, saying you didn’t want him to bother you. And he hadn’t. He had… changed. At least for that day, he was still Tom, but somehow there was something different. Almost kind. “C’mon, y/l/n, you can’t stay all day mourning how ugly you are, you can do that every day of the year,” he had said, making you roll your eyes. He hadn’t let go the opportunity to insult you, that was clear. “What are you doing here, may I know?” You had asked him. “Andrea told me you were having a bad day,” Tom had answered making his way into your house, staring at the empty chip bags and half eaten ice cream tubes. “So, naturally, I thought I’d make it even worse by showing up and taking you out.” “Gee, thanks.” “Now, get rid of all this rubbish, put on something nice and then let’s go repeat our horrible date and let’s make it worse this time.” “Tom... I really don’t want to.” “Fine, I’ll help you clean, and you go get ready,” Tom had insisted. “I don’t want to go out,” you had stated. “Look, you’ve done it, you’ve seen me cry, you won, Tom.” He had stayed quiet and just started cleaning up your mess. “Tom.” “Y/N, okay, I know you’re all tough and tried to play it away with the whole: ‘I’m okay, i don’t need your help’, but really anyone could use a friend at these types of situations.” “And you’re my friend?” You had asked him, making him look up at you. “Today I will be one,” Tom had assured you. “Unless you want to be left alone.” You didn’t want to be alone, he was right. You needed someone, and you didn’t know if he was the best option, but he was the only one. And you had eventually agreed, and you had gone out with him and he had cheered you up, for your surprise. It was the most fun you had had in your life. And he had let you “insult” him. Who would’ve thought that you could have a great time with someone you supposedly hate? He was a friend. A friend who had seen you through the glass. He didn’t judge if you wanted to cry, or if you wanted to change the subject. It was different. It seemed like despite all the time hating on each other, you could really be friends with him. You had ended up in your apartment playing invented silly drinking games. Like drinking every time they cast a spell in Harry Potter, or taking a sip every time Tom mentioned Spider-Man, or taking another anytime you let out your embarrassing laugh out. He transformed into a friend. And he let you see through his glass as well. “I also build up fences myself,” he had admitted. “Helps avoid the pain.” “It’s easier for you, you’re an actor you can build your persona,” you said. “And you end up losing who you truly are,” Tom shrugged. “It’s a con and a pro.” Truth or dare had managed to be the last game, involving silly questions and deep questions. Questions about science, questions about love, about things you never thought you could talk about. And dares about deleting contacts on your phone, or trying out different outfits, or eating weird combinations of the remaining leftovers of the fridge. It had all been okay, until he had pronounced those words. “I dare you to kiss me.” And you hadn’t, at the beginning. Because you feared that everything you had built up that night would fade away.

“Why?” “Why not?” He asked you. “I don’t know, I’m drunk, I don’t know what I’m saying.” “Drunk people usually say the truth,” you pointed out. “It’s not a truth, it’s a dare,” Tom defended himself. “Well maybe you do want it,” you commented, letting out a drunk giggle. “Well, I’ve been wondering, what would happen if you did,” Tom admitted. His arm was already around your waist and you had your hand on his chest already. Honestly, a kiss was missing to the whole situation. “We are supposed to hate each other.” There was something stopping you. “Right, especially now that Haz and Andrea aren’t in good terms,” Tom conceited. “That’s a good thing, if they break up we don’t have to see each other again,” You whispered, shrugging. “Yeah, and we wouldn’t have to talk about this, and we can ignore the fact I asked you to kiss me,” Tom gulped staring at you. “It would be such a shame if I didn’t,” you confessed before you leaned over and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss. Nothing too passionate, just slightly drunk and slightly tired. You were the one to break the kiss, but he decided to hide his face on your neck, placing some kisses on it. “Well, truth or dare?” It was his turn. “Truth.” “Do you really hate me?” You asked as you were now getting closer, right beside him, playing with his hair as you were staring at him. Maybe it was all the alcohol, but you were sure his curls were the most beautiful curls you had seen. “No,” Tom shrugged. “I like you, you’re cool, you make me laugh, I think about us more than I think I should.” “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment,” you chuckled as he looked up at you. The prettiest and drunkest of smiles had come across his face. “You should,” he answered. “I don’t know, I honestly think the time was wrong.” “The time?” “Yeah, when we met,” Tom continued. “I mean,” he sat up to rest his shoulder on the couch and turned himself to face you, you wanted him to go back and kiss your neck but kept that a secret. “We have a lot in common, we both have… some past, but… we are both so into our jobs that our love life is.. let’s face it, complete shit, ya know? We both have built in fences so people don’t know we’re hurting, I just…” “No, no, I get it, the time was wrong,” you bit your lip, “Andrea never shuts up about how we could be a great couple.” “Yeah,” Tom giggled and hiccuped. “We could be.” “Such a shame we can’t,” you sentenced as your eyes met his. “We can change that.” You held your breath because you didn’t know what exactly was happening. It was 3 in the morning, and you were talking with Tom Holland about things you had never talked about before. You were just staring at a boy, begging him with your eyes to start over, to kiss you again, to love you. But you didn’t want him to leave, for once, you didn’t care they had defeated you. It was a little crime. So you kissed him again. But it didn’t count, it didn’t count. Not the first one, not the next one or the one that followed. Nothing that had happened that night had counted. You both had agreed on not talking about the worst day of your life. And he had been an asshole about it, because if anything it added more to the hate and the banter and the not so ideal way to talk to each other. You were drunk, that was it. No, no. He wasn’t an asshole. But it was your little secret, which continued to grow. Suddenly you found yourself going to the movies with him, going out for a cafe, he would pick you up for lunch. You would be baking cookies together, or trying out new clothes. It became a nice secret. But for the outsiders, like Andrea or Haz, or everyone else, you insisted on hating each other. It was fun, it became fun because it added more spark to the… relationship. Haz and Andrea kept on having trouble. However, it became a dangerous, dangerous game. You know that Tom knew your weak side, he knew some of your secrets. And it had gone like that for a few months. It was fun, it was nice, you were giving yourself away. And then, it became even more forbidden. Sometimes you’d had to hide behind the counter whenever Harrison showed up at their apartment, and Tom would have to pretend he was cooking with candles for him and Harrison. Other times Tom would have to hide under the bed if Andrea decided to show up out of the blue.

You’d make lame excuses as to why your hair was messy, Tom had convinced Harrison that he had bought the lipstick to himself, or that the women’s clothes had appeared out of nowhere. You had to insult each other more around them, and then leave at different times so they wouldn’t know you’d both end up together later. You’d both escape out of the city, saying it was for your job. You would have to say all your gifts were from your grandmother. Tom would have to give lame excuses to Harrison whenever he would tell him to go and date someone. You couldn’t call him Tom, and he couldn’t call you y/n. A secret, a perfect secret. But of course, of course, for the world you still hated each other. Harrison and Andrea broke up, but you kept seeing Tom. And it was a secret. You believed that sometimes love had to be anonymous, before falling into routines that you will not be able to escape from later. It became even more romantic, having to supposedly hate them both Harrison and Tom but secretly being dating one. Because it was such a shame that it couldn’t be spoken, because if it were for you, you’d scream it to the world, tell the stars about him. And it was true, suddenly everyone was right. You were in love with him, and he was in love with you. And that was no secret. But it was a secret, and a secret needed code names. So he was Romeo, and you were Juliet. You guessed you loaded the dice from there, because after those names, Things started to fall apart. It was because he didn’t have any time, or because you didn’t want to give him more. You didn’t want to take risks, and he didn’t want to bring his feet back on earth. Either you dreamed too much, or he didn’t dream at all. It was just falling, and failing. But there was still hope, you could see a light flickering. But being a secret made it be a routine, and it was such a shame because you were stuck. Stuck in a moment, and you couldn’t get out of it. Suddenly the secret underneath his clothes, or underneath his smile didn’t thrill you. Suddenly the endless story was reaching an end. You didn’t want it to end. Maybe, it was just that the time was wrong, or maybe it shouldn’t have happened. But by the time you felt like things couldn’t get worse, you were breaking apart. Whilst you were mourning a relationship that shouldn’t have happened, but it was easy. You didn’t have to see him again, right? You could move on with your life. It was just a matter of days after your almost break up, that Andrea and Harrison got back. And a silly part of you thought, maybe we can’t be when they are. But you couldn’t just say goodbye to him, not like that. Not just like that. So now you were stuck looking at him again, with the sudden surprise Andrea and Harrison were engaged. Your best friend was engaged to Tom’s best friend. It was their engagement party, and you were about to break up. Because the night before you had almost quit, you had almost dropped the towel. So there you were, leaning against the bar, watching everyone dance and talk. Andrea and Haz were at the bar with you, kissing and hugging and giggling and prancing and being… happy. Whilst you were trying not to cry, because you knew it. You sensed it. “Look who’s lonely again,” a voice had said behind you. “Holland,” You greeted him turning around, you weren’t ready to pull the act by now. You couldn’t. You needed to mend things, but you knew it wasn’t the time. And for the world, you hated each other. And for the world you weren’t dating, and for the world, you weren’t hurting. “Oh, y/n how awful you look,” Tom said with a smirk, but you could see that he hadn’t slept. He looked as sad as you did. “Not in the mood,Tom.” You were being serious now, you didn’t want to continue. “Such a shame, I had come to cheer you up,” Tom said. “Just to remind you that you didn’t bring your plus one.” “You didn’t either, Holland, could’ve brought any Hollywood babe and you didn’t,” and you had brought an argument back. Because seeing him around all of them, and just knowing he wasn’t around. Seeing him around some other girls, and then disappearing into the night. Because they were what was real for the world, and you were just a secret. “Because I didn’t want to,” Tom shrugged. “Weird way to say no one in Hollywood likes you,” Andrea said with a smug smirk on her face. Trying to help you, Haz laughed. “Of course they like me,” Tom laughed. “Oh, then maybe it’s your performance which they don’t like,” You shrugged as you took a sip of your drink. “You do seem to like it, though,” Tom snapped staring at you. You almost spat your drink. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” “No,” Tom laughed. “ah, it’s okay y/n, they all fall for my charm, you had to, eventually. “As far as I remember, you were the one to ask,” you said. “You didn’t complain,” Tom pointed out. “Well, you know what they say, rebounds always work.” You winked at him. “What is going on?” Haz Asked with a frowned. “Ah, always nice to see you, huh?” Tom rolled his eyes with a slight chuckle, ignoring Haz’question. “So our friends are getting married.” “I know,” you wrinkled your nose.”congratulations!” Andrea and Haz grinned. They looked the happiest they’ve ever been. “The Love was never gone, huh?” You asked them. “Why would it? He’s my Romeo,” Andrea laughed as Haz kissed her. “And she’s my Juliet.” Tom and you both stiffened, suddenly you felt cold. “You know, you-you shouldn’t call each other that, they uh… died,” Tom insisted and Haz chuckled. “They died for love,” Haz shrugged. You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Yeah,” Tom mimicked a throwing up noise. “Ew love.” You laughed. “Shut up, they’re adorable.” You stared at the couple who was grinning to each other, they had their eyes locked and they were shining bright. They shared a kiss or two. “They are adorable, indeed.” Tom stared at you. “Too bad you won’t ever have something like that.” You laughed dryly and rolled your eyes. “So today you’re going to point out my failed relationships, and how I can seem to work them out?” “Of course I am,” Tom said seriously. “Sole reason I came here for.” “Thanks,” You laughed. “You guys will never get along will you?” Andrea asked. “And to think we tried to pair you up.” Tom and you quickly glanced at each other. “So tell me about your outfit? I didn’t know we had to bring potato sacks,” Tom tried to change the subject. “Ah, we did have to, but it’s okay, your hand me down clothes match your awful personality so you’re not out of place,” you snapped making him laugh. “Oh thanks, learned it from you.” “You’re an idiot,” you stated.

“I am, thanks for noticing I’m being an extra idiot today, so it’s glad you’re aware, it’s only for you.” You rolled your eyes as you looked around, your attention got caught on a guy. “Oooh, that one’s cute, way out of your league,” Tom said as he caught you staring. “now that one,” Tom pointed to an old ugly guy. “You could easily score with him.” “You’re right, my standards are way too low, I mean, I...” you sounded a bit condescending, as you glared at him. “You say that,” Tom puffed up his chest. “But I haven’t seen you in one stable relationship in a while, maybe you’re secretly in love with me.” You raised your eyebrow. “You’d love that wouldn’t you?” “Not really, not a fan of potato sacks.” You sighed. You stayed quiet, with Tom digging his hands into his pockets, watching Andrea and Haz leave. “Can’t we for once be decent?” You asked him. “Look around,” You said as you turned to the place. A lovely garden with the perfect music and the most amazing day you had ever seen. “It’s a lovely place, and a lovely evening and we can’t stop… whatever this is.” “Fine, lets go dance,” he took you by your hand as he dragged you to the dance floor, as he pulled you close to him, resting his head on your shoulder. You did the same as you danced. It was as if you didn’t care that the world was looking at you, he wanted the world to know. For a moment, you weren’t angry at each other, things were fine. There was hope, slowly dancing with each other. With a kiss that wanted to mend everything. Tom stopped to look around. “It’s a shame.” “You keep saying that,” you pointed out. “Well it is,” Tom said. “We’re stuck with each other, and look around, it’s such a lovely evening as you just said, the perfect sunset, all these silly romantic lightbulbs, the sun is falling perfectly on your face, you look extremely beautiful, uh, the music is lovely… and, look at this,” Tom took you by your hand to lead you to the kiosque on the center of the garden. “This is tailor made for two people to fall in love here.” You laughed as you stared at him, leaning against one of the columns as he approached you. “So romantic,” You agreed as you were watching him, playing with your nervous fingers. “Two other people here would be already kissing,” Tom shrugged. “Too bad those two are you and me.” “Look, all those couples in there could be here, enjoying it, and then… there’s us, ruining it for them,” Tom laughed. You chuckled. “Maybe you brought me here for a reason, maybe you wanted it to be romantic.” “No way, you’re not my type, this could never happen,” Tom approached you. “Yet it happened,” you gulped as he approached you again. “Ah, but clearly there’s nothing here,” Tom said as he placed his hand on your waist. Your heart started to rush and you gulped trying to step back. “That’s a secret.” “I think I should decide that,” you said. “It’s your call then,” Tom smirked pulling you closer. You got out of his grip and laughed. “Though you look really cute in that suit, what is it? Prada?” “Gucci.” “You’re right, I'd never fall for you at all,” you continued. “And you know if my heels weren’t so tiring maybe I’d like this,” You said. “Or maybe any other girl who still believes in romance, could give you a chance,” you said walking over placing your hand on his shoulder. Tom chuckled. “But I’m frankly feeling nothing,” you lied. “Is that so?” “Or it could be less than nothing,” you shrugged. “Good to know,” Tom smirked. “So you agree?” “That’s right, what a waste of lovely night,”you chuckled as he was already wrapping his arms around you. He was almost leaning over when Harrison had come to the picture. “Hey Tom! Oh-“ He cleared his throat and let you go quickly. You sighed as you hugged yourself with sorrow. So close and yet so far. “Yeah man?” He turned around with an awkward face. “I needed you for… uh,” Haz looked between you both. Your heart was pumping so hard you could actually hear your heartbeat. You coughed as you turned around. “Oh right, I’m going I’m going,” Tom gulped and then turned to you. “I’ll be right back,okay?” You let him go and you waited for a while, he didn’t come back. He got caught in the moment, and then ended up with some of his friends, you talked to some of yours. And it was a point in which you realized, it sure was a shame. It had been a waste of such a lovely night. You could’ve worked it out. Because now you were at the end of the party with Tom walking over to say goodbye. But you didn’t want to say goodbye. So you were now staring at him. You couldn’t say goodbye to him, not tonight. “So, hm,” Tom cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow right?” “I… you really have to leave?” You asked with hope. Tom didn’t answer right away, instead he just stared at you. “It’s such a shame… but I really have to go.” At that point, you knew it. You were done.

tag list @exoticeggos @nextkaratekid @multifandom-fangirl4 @fortheloveofmcu @flashcal @iwillalwaysbevictorious @thekidsofneibolt @quicksoldier @totallyreadyforthis s @quacksonqueen @yoinksholland @lovelyh0lland @typicaltrashbagg @supernatural-trash-lover @assumeimapenguin  @americaswritings  @nano-hero @paradoxparker @its-livelovelife @its-tchalla @butwhyduh @strangerthingslucas @leena-xoxo @toms-darling @ivyohmy @greenarrowhead @softboyparkerr @tom-hollands-eyelash h h @jtorressuck @clairesrainbow  @misformarvel l @desirableprey @fairydustparker @newlove-neweverything g @spider-gwenscanary @underoosmarvel @patdandtop @its-the-unknownspidey s @savethebabyseals @hermionedeservesbetterthanron @quitetommy y @tomhaz @wronglanemendes @kaciidubs @itsvianny @arya-di-angelo @jake-and-amy-are-married @broadwayshtuff

[inkjam-moon]

Sweet & Spicy - Part One

Summary: A confession on a cold night.

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word Count: 2.4k

TW: THE SOFTEST KISS

A/N: Part one of three! There will be smut in the other parts This is the first part of a birthday present for my sweet @baozibunns. Happy birthday love, hope you like it~

“Look, if you don’t hurry up and pick a flavor, I’m going to pick one for you.” You state, tapping your foot impatiently.

“But there’s too many to choose from.” Jeongguk whines, his eyes scanning frantically along the shelves in the convenience store. “Sweet. Spicy. Beef. Chicken. How do you choose?”

“Why do I even let you come into the store with me?” You groan. “I’m going to get the coffee, If you don’t pick one by the time I get back, you don’t get any.” You chide, walking to the other side of the store to where the drinks sit in their respective coolers. You grab two cans of coffee, decaf of course, the two of you would die if you drank caffeine this late at night.

It had been another late dance practice for Jeongguk, alone in the studio, but as always, you hung around until he was done. He always claims he dances better when you’re around, so being the good friend you are you stay to cheer him on and keep his spirits up, watching him get sweaty and gross, and then the two of you head out to the convenience store down next to the park to grab ramen and coffee before movie night at your place. However, ever the indecisive one, Jeongguk always takes forever to pick his flavors, and on nights when you’re buying, like tonight, you tend to lose patience a lot faster than usual.

You take your time walking back over to him, praying that by the time you get there, he’ll have picked something. When you round the corner into the ramen aisle, you see Jeongguk reach out and pluck a cup off the shelf, making you squeal.

“That one! You touched it, that’s the one!”

Jeongguk turns to you with a pursed lip frown on his face, but he sighs and nods. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

“Thank god.” You groan.

The two of you walk up to the counter and you quickly pay for your items. As you pay, Jeongguk takes the cups of ramen over to the hot water dispenser. He opens and fills both containers, closing them again to let them set just as you grab your receipt and walk over to join him. He hands you your cup and a pair of chopsticks and you trade him his coffee before the two of you head back outside and start the walk back to your apartment. The two of you walk in silence for a bit as you round the corner of the park, until Jeongguk stops you.

“Hey, noona?”

“Mm?”

“Wanna swing?” He asks, nodding his head to the swingset hidden by a large tree.

“Now?” You ask, looking at your watch to see it’s almost midnight.

“Why not? Now’s the best time to do it.” He states, already walking over to the object in question.

“Alright.” You sigh under your breath before making your way over to where Jeongguk is already lightly swinging. You seat yourself in the swing next to him, holding your coffee can between your thighs and wrapping both hands around the warm cup of noodles, trying to fight the late night chill in the air as you pull back the lid and gather some noodles on your chopsticks, shoving them into your mouth.

The spice of the ramen warms you from the inside out and you let out a small sigh of contentment as you slurp down the food. It’s quiet as the two of you eat. Usually you eat on the way home, which is okay because you don’t really need to talk as you walk, but now, you wonder what Jeongguk has in mind. He usually doesn’t stop at the swings unless he has something he wants to discuss on the walk to your place.

The silence of the air is disturbed by the loud crack of him opening his can of coffee. You look over as he takes a swig, taking in his appearance. His hair has been dyed back to it’s natural black and it falls across his forehead underneath the hood of his much too large sweatshirt. You giggle a bit when you realize he has to keep rolling up his sleeves every time he goes to grab another mouthful of noodles. His coffee sits perched between his strong thighs, much like yours, and he’s wearing his favorite ripped black jeans and black sneakers.

You open your own can of coffee and shiver as the cold liquid trails down your throat. You prefer the warmth of the noodles on a night like tonight. Maybe you should’ve gotten hot, fresh coffee instead of canned? It’s too late now, you’ll have to remember it for next time.

You take another sip as Jeongguk slurps up the last of his noodles; you can tell he’s almost finished when he brings the container to his lips and drains the leftover broth. You swear you’ve never seen him eat so fast, something must really be on his mind.

After he’s done he stands and walks the empty cup over to the nearby trashcan before returning and taking his seat back on the swing, kicking his feet a bit as he holds his coffee with both hands. You watch him closely; you know that face, he’s waiting for the right opportunity to say whatever it is he wants to say. You don’t want to stay out in the cold much longer, so you decide to prompt him.

“So what’s up Kook?”

He bites his bottom lip anxiously, staring down at where he’s drawing abstract shapes in the dirt with the tip of his shoe. “Nothing…”

“No?”

“I just felt like swinging.” He mumbles.

“Really?” You ask, disbelief evident in your tone.

He only nods and you shrug, going back to your noodles. Mid slurp, Jeongguk must’ve gathered the courage, because he finally speaks up. “Hey… Y/N?”

“Mm?” You respond, mouth too full of ramen to respond properly.

“W-what was your first kiss like?”

You nearly choke, off put by his sudden inquiry. “What?”

“Did you have one?”

“W-well, yeah.”

“What was it like?” He asks again.

“Oh gosh, um…” You think back. When was your first real kiss? Sophomore year? “Honestly, it was kind of clumsy.”

“Clumsy?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “Neither of us really knew what we were doing, so it wasn’t very uh, nice. In fact, I think he missed the first time.”

Jeongguk chuckles a bit. “He missed?”

“Yeah, he got my chin instead of my lips.” You giggle at the memory.

“Ah, I see.” He’s quiet again for bit and you take the chance to eat the rest of your ramen, finishing off the broth with a gasp of satisfaction. You chug the rest of your coffee while you’re at it. As you stand to throw away your trash, Jeongguk speaks again. “So then… You’ve had boyfriends before.”

“Yeah.” You state simply as you toss your empty containers. When you turn back, Jeongguk seems to be contemplating something, and it doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving anytime soon, so you walk back and return to your swing.

“What were they like?”

This strikes you as an odd question. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. What kind of people were they?”

You think back. What kind of people have you dated before? You shrug. “Tall, dark, and handsome; you know the deal.” It’s true, when you first met Jeongguk you were still dating Minsung, your most recent ex. Minsung was exactly as described; he was abnormally tall, about 190 centimeters, he was tan, muscular, and had truly beautiful features, his face so perfectly proportioned even Fibonacci would be impressed.

Minsung was even the reason you met Jeongguk.

You first visited Korea when you were twenty and quickly fell in love with every aspect of the beautiful country and customs. A year later you applied for a job, were hired, and made the move halfway across the world to Seoul where you met Minsung by chance at a coffee shop. He was nice, and he was actually the first friend you made in your new home.

Minsung was a backup dancer at Jeongguk’s company, and one time he invited you to a rehearsal. While he was on a break and the two of you were eating lunch, Jeongguk came over to talk to Minsung about some choreography issues; it took him a few minutes to even notice you were there. Minsung introduced the two of you and after a few weeks the three of you hanging out, and of you breaking Jeongguk out of his reserved shell, you and Jeongguk became the best of friends.

When you and Minsung amicably parted ways; your relationship having become all too stagnant; you and Jeongguk remained extremely close, and now here you are, two years later and still as close as ever.

“Are you talking about Minsung?” Jeongguk’s voice interrupts your wandering mind. “He still asks about you all the time you know.”

“I know. We got coffee the other day, but it was super boring.” You chuckle. “How did I date him for so long?”

“Did you guys ever… You know…?”

“Ever what?” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Are you a… a v-virgin?” He mutters the last word so softly that you barely hear it.

You practically snort. “Oh god no.” Then you remember who you’re talking to. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a virgin!” You quickly move to dig yourself out of the hole you just made, knowing full well that Jeongguk hasn’t lost his v card yet; he’s never had a girlfriend, he’s never even kissed anyone. Is that why he’s asking all these questions? Did he finally find someone he likes? “Sorry Kook.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “Would you say Minsung is your ideal type then?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope. But honestly? I think I’d rather date someone like you than I would him.”

Jeongguk perks up at this. “R-really?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You’re so sweet.”

“Do you… You think I’m attractive?”

“Of course I do Kook. Can you not see yourself in those floor to ceiling mirrors in the studio? You’re almost painfully handsome.” You offer him a small smile, but he’s intently focused on the ground in front of him, so he doesn’t see it.

You stare out over the dark landscape, illuminated by a sole lamppost on the edge of the park, but when you hear Jeongguk’s breathing suddenly pick up, you look over at him, concerned. He’s scooted his swing closer, grabbing the chain on yours that’s nearest him, his doe eyes wide as he scans your face. It almost looks like he’s trembling, but before you can ask what’s wrong, he leans forward and very gently presses his lips to yours.

You panic internally, a million thoughts racing through your mind. This is his first kiss. You’re taking his first kiss. What do you do? Was he asking those questions because he likes you? Oh god, oh shit. Should you kiss him back? You can feel Jeongguk’s hand tremble as he reaches up to cup your face. You don’t think he’s breathing. His lips are soft though… You… You should kiss him back. You should-

And just like that, it’s over. You hear Jeongguk exhale shakily as he pulls back, looking at you for a some sort of response.

“I…” You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Worry and panic immediately wash over Jeongguk’s features. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He looks down at the ground again before you can respond.

“N-no, it’s… it’s okay.” You assure him. “I just. I wasn’t expecting it I guess?” Your face flushes a bit when realization hits you. “Kook, I took your first kiss…”

“I know.” He states. “I wanted you to.”

“I mean, I understand you wanting to get it out of the way and all, but a little warning would’ve been-”

“I didn’t just want to get it out of the way.”

“You didn’t?”

“Noona, I… I k-kind of like you. A-a lot actually.” He confesses, his gaze never leaving the dirt.

“Kook-”

“I-I know you probably don’t like me back, but I just… I wanted to at least try.”

“Do you like me though?”

“What?” His head finally snaps up to meet your gaze.

“I know the ‘hyungs who shall not be named’ have been teasing you about this stuff recently, so do you like me? Or do you just like the idea of me? Of having a girlfriend?”

“G-girlfriend?” He swallows harshly, taking a moment before responding. “N-noona, I-I’ve… I’ve had a crush on you f-for forever.”

“You have?” Now it’s your voice that’s gone soft. He nods. “Kook, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared…” He admits quietly. “And you were with Minsung for so long-”

“Kookie, you don’t have to be scared.” You reach out to offer a comforting touch, but stop, not knowing if you should.

Jeongguk sighs deeply before sitting up straight and turning to face you. “Y/N, w-will you be my girlfriend?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, warmth blossoming in your chest as your stomach flutters. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I will.”

“Wait, really?”

You laugh at his reaction. “Did you expect me to say no? I like you too Kook, so yes, really.”

Before you can think, Jeongguk shoots up out of his swing and wraps you in his arms, nearly knocking you off your own seat.

“Oops, sorry.” He whispers, pulling back, and letting you stand up.

“It’s okay.” You smile before placing a sweet peck on his cheek. “Now can we go home? I’m freezing.”

“Oh, gosh yeah. Come on.” He nods before heading back to the sidewalk, a definitive bounce now in his step before he turns and realizes you aren’t beside him and he rushes back to your side. “C-can I maybe, um. Can I hold your hand?” He asks, his cheeks flushing pink. You simply smile and hold your hand out for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours, his large palm, surrounding yours with warmth as he gives your hand a squeeze.

As the two of you walk back to your apartment, well it’s more like as Jeongguk drags you back to your apartment, the air is filled with silence, but it’s not awkward, it’s content, peaceful really, as Jeongguk swings your arm back and forth with his. You’re almost home when a involuntary shiver runs down your spine from the cold.

“You couldn’t have waited until we got back to my heated apartment to ask me?” You inquire as your body shakes.

“Don’t worry, we can curl up on the couch under the blankets and I’ll keep you warm. I mean, you know i-if you want? If that’s okay with you, you know I-”

“Sounds perfect.”

Copyright © Inkjam-Moon 2018

[minigenos]

Holidays, Part 2

Part 1 ― Part 2 (you are here)

Genos plans a romantic holiday evening for Saitama. However, as this is the One Punch Man universe, things quickly start going to shit when monsters attack.

The atmosphere at the banquet hall was relaxed and friendly, though one wouldn't think so based on Genos's expression. While Saitama was nearly halfway done with his food, the cyborg hadn't touched anything in his bowl. He was just... staring at it.

Oh god, not again, the hero thought to himself as he looked over to his date. He's over-anaylizing something again, isn't he?

Saitama knew the only way to snap Genos out of his current mood was to get him to say what was on his mind, much to the older hero's chagrin.

He really hoped it wouldn't be another ten-minute long essay this time.

“Uh, Genos? You haven't touched any of your food yet. It's going to get cold...”

“Oh?” Now that Genos had been brought back to reality, the only thing left to do was brace for whatever he had to say next.

“Sorry sensei, I was just thinking. I should have been able to detect those two monsters you defeated well before we actually saw them. Now I'm beginning to wonder if my sensors are faulty or monsters have developed some way of hiding from them...”

Saitama looked over at Genos. Or, more specifically, the crack in his head from when the hero mistakenly hit it like an alarm clock.

Hmmm...

That might be the reason why his system wasn't working properly.

But it was Christmas, and Genos shouldn't have to worry about something like that. If anything came along Saitama could handle it. Now all he had to do was convince the cyborg of such and get him to drop the subject.

“Ah, yeah, well don't worry about it. They're gone and if anything else shows up I can deal with it, no problem.” Saitama managed a smile to make what he said more genuine, which Genos seemed to begrudgingly buy.

“You're right,” he finally admitted. “I'll just have to make sure Doctor Kuseno checks it the next time I go in for repairs.”

For a brief moment Saitama was exceedingly glad the doctor didn't have any means to contact him – he probably would have gotten an earful from him over damaging Genos in such a stupid way.

With Genos's mind put at ease for now the pair could finally relax and enjoy their dinner in peace.

Except not really.

With Genos's sensors out of commission, everyone was taken completely by surprise when part of the roof and wall caved in and the shadows of a dozen monsters materialized in the swirling dust and snow.

Every single one of the workers fucked right out of the room at the very first sight of the monsters. They definitely weren't getting paid enough to deal with that kind of crap.

“Hm, hm! Well, isn't this a surprise,” one of the monsters said. “Someone who didn't run away for once. Are you too scared to move, or too stupid to know when to get out of the way?”

At the direction of the monster closest to the heroes, the entire group began to move forward well before the dust and snow had settled.

“Well, since you gave us such a warm welcome,” the same monster as before said, “please allow us to introduce ourselves.” Standing before them was what seemed to be an animated tree with two sets of stubby, gnarled legs and one pair of over-sized arms that ended hands with varying numbers of sharp claws. On what could be considered its torso was a giant number “1” while where its head would have most likely been was a circular robotic structure that held a bird within it. One of the bird's eyes and part of its head were robotic while a monocle was somehow held up against its other eye.

With a couple egotistical chuckles the bird spoke again. “We are The-”

“Hey look Genos, it's a cute little pigeon!” Saitama said, completely cutting off the monster. “Do you think they have any bread in the kitchen we can feed it? I wanna go check.”

“Sensei...” the cyborg whispered in what could be considered a pleading voice for him. He tried to grab onto his mentor to stop him, but the man was already out of his normal reach.

“Would you stop that!” the bird monster shouted, causing Saitama to freeze in his tracks. The tree it was positioned on top of lurched a huge step forward in response.

“Oh hey it talks!” Saitama smiled over his delayed realization. “Neat, a talking pigeon”

“I'M NOT A PIDGEON YOU IMBECILE!”

Now that Saitama's focus was solely on their newest adversaries, the hero finally took the time to look over each monster in the group. Thankfully for him, all but one were number-coded for easy identification.

1 – The talking pigeon (“I'M A PARTRIDGE YOU TWAT!!”) and animated tree.

2 – A bipedal, mostly white, turtle with unusually large claws. Saitama could see bursts of pink flames erupt from the limbs every so often. Its number was sewn onto a silver arm band.

3 – One of the most human-looking of the group, this monster had long, flowing silver hair and held a long cigarette marked with a “3” in a gloved hand. Her white boa provided a sharp contrast to her floor-length black dress.

“Oh hey, you look really nice!” Saitama couldn't help but compliment the monster.

“Oh? Tu es un charmeur,” she replied in a somehow italicized French accent.

4 – While the head of this monster was identical to that of a common sparrow, just enlarged to fit the rest of the body, everything from the neck down looked almost boringly human, even down to the black suit and polished shoes. A small “4” was monogrammed onto its pocket square. It might seem rather uninteresting, but this was definitely a high-class monster.

5 – A solid gold-colored, cartoonishly haute humanoid. He probably wasn't real gold; maybe 10k at max. He seemed to use psychic powers to continuously levitate and spin five circular gold blades at speeds fast enough to rip through flesh. Instead of telling time, his watch showed only the number 5 – honestly, there were some days where Saitama could get behind that sentiment.

6 – The only un-numbered one of the bunch, it was literally just a giant goose. Likely it had ripped its marker off.

7 – This monster seemed to have the head and upper body of a black-colored swan wearing a long, iridescent black feathered dress that trailed on the floor. Saitama couldn't tell if it had normal human legs, really long bird legs, or if it was just two swans standing on top of each other. He figured it would be too rude to ask. A black corset with a silver “7” jutting from it indicated where her place was in the group.

8 – This monster seemed... suspiciously human. A burly woman in a red and white maid's outfit, combat boots, and spiked punching gloves marked with one bright red “8” on each one seemed like something one would see at a cosplay convention than with a group of blatantly obvious monsters.

At this point Saitama wished there were fewer monsters because the descriptions of each individual one was becoming extremely tedious.

9 – Saitama had to admit, this monster looked surprisingly interesting. It was a ballet dancer made up of possibly millions of shards of crystal that seemed able to shift and reform its body at will, though most of the time was contorting its body in the approximate shape of the number 9.

10 – This monster seemed like it would again be more at home at a cosplay convention, or even a Renaissance festival. They looked like a ridiculously over-sized elf, aside from the mask over its eyes which turned them into a pair of glowing white dots. A belt held together with a “10” buckle stored numerous smithing tools and picks while the monster held a heavy mallet in each hand.

11 – A massive, completely mechanized hedgehog with a thick black sack for a belly and musical pipes as opposed to quills. Its number was engraved into large gears placed at the monster's hips.

12 – The final monster of the batch, and one of the few that looked like a monster to boot; a large demon drum with rows of spikes along both sides of its body. Based on how easily rubble was crushed into dust under its feet, it was safe to say this monster was notably heavier than it looked.

With each monster finally registered, Saitama had only one thing to say.

“You guys seriously take orders from a pigeon?”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM NOT A PIDGEON!” the bird shouted as his wings slapped down onto the rim of his mechanical nest.

“He's an angry pigeon,” Saitama teased, which resulted in even Genos rolling his eyes. “Oh! Wait, I get it now! It's like the song! How's it go?”

“W...what?” the bird muttered in a perplexed voice.

“FIVE GOLDEN HENS!!” the hero bellowed at the top of his lungs, startling both Genos and the group of monsters. His student was the quickest to recover and pointed out his mentor's mistake.

“No, no, sensei. It's five golden rings. The hens are day three.”

“Are you sure? I thought they were golden hens...”

The pair spent an obscenely long time debating among themselves what item corresponded to each day and wildly failing, while the group of monsters that were very blatantly based off of the song stood. Directly. Across. From. Them.

“What shall we do?” the monster marked with a 3 asked.

“This is getting ridiculous,” the feathered ringleader of the group replied. Together they were no less than a Dragon-level threat, possibly bordering on that of God.

And they were being ignored by an over-literal cyborg and hoodie-wearing humanoid egg.

“Just kill them already!” the bird ordered with a wave of his wing, which triggered the monsters into launching forward – fangs, claws, fire, or tools bared – and bear down on the two heroes.

The sudden commotion was finally enough to break the pair from their discussion. Genos dropped down while his robotic body flared to life, while Saitama merely just turned his head.

“Don't you know it's rude,” he started while balling his left hand into a fist, “to interrupt other people's conversations?” He swung his fist in an arch, which made direct contact with the “1” on the sentient tree, causing the monster to disintegrate instantly. The shock wave from Saitama's punch completely destroyed the other monsters, causing their bodies to be torn to shreds and splatter in a wide arch around where they died. Only two monsters managed to survive the carnage by getting blown back and managing to avoid a fatal amount of damage.

“Get up Golde. We need to get out of here.”

“W... what happened?” The gold-colored monster rose shakily to an approximate sitting position and looked at the other monster. Hen looked pretty roughed up, to say the least. Her dress  and boa had seen better days, and the cigarette she had gotten from Par as a gift for joining the Knights was long gone.

The pair had been knocked notably far away from their original spot and landed in a poorly-lit area far enough away from the heroes to escape their notice. A true lucky blessing for them if ever there was one.

“I don't know how, but we survived.” The made a long, pained sigh. “I think we're the only ones who did.”

“But- but you've got to be joking! We're notably weaker than some of those monsters! Heck, we're not even full-fledged monsters like they are-”

“Were.”

“...were... but you're saying we are the only ones that made it out alive?”

“Oui.”

Golde let out a dejected sigh and held his head in his hands. His partner stretched out her hand as a silent reminder for him that they needed to get up and get the heck out of there before reinforcements arrived. Or, even worse, those two heroes found them.

“How the hell did it end up like this,” he muttered to nobody in particular.

Neither Golde or Hen, his female co-patriot, were full-fledged monsters just yet, but were welcomed into the Demon Knights because they fit the rolls so well. Originally they had planned to just wait it out under the other monsters' protection until they had completely turned themselves, but now those plans had been completely shot to hell.

“Well, what now?” Golde asked as he wrapped one of Hen's arms around his shoulders.

“I have some items left in storage,” Hen replied. “If my contacts are still around I might be able to sell them and make enough money to open a store somewhere.”

“Hm? What kind of store?”

“I was thinking... a café or bistro maybe? I always enjoyed visiting those places as a child...”

“Ooh! Can I help?” Golde seemed to perk up at Hen's words, causing the woman to get knocked off-balance. “I've always had an eye for interior design and art.”

“Oui. But first,” Hen said as she readjusted herself, “let's focus on getting out of here.”

Golde had no choice but to nod dejectedly at the suggestion. Heartbroken over their loss but determined to make it out of the shitty situation they now found themselves in, the pair walked off into the night to piece their lives back together again.

On a positive note, the Demon Knights had been swiftly vanquished by Saitama. On a less positive note, about a third of the banquet hall had been demolished. That was a small problem for the heroes. The hall's owner probably wasn't going to be very thrilled over what they did.

As Genos called the owner and tried his best to explain what had happened over the other person's loud swearing, Saitama checked out what was salvageable from the food tables. It seemed only the fruit, vegetable, and one try of miniature cakes were, as those three were the only ones to still have a covering on them. Still, it was better than nothing. The hero picked up the three trays and walked over to a mildly frustrated Genos.

“I called the owner and they will be here shortly,” the cyborg said as he pulled out a Hero Association contact card and sandwiched it between a piece of rubble and one of the remaining tables. “I'll leave a card just in case he couldn't hear me over his own swearing.”

“Good thinking Genos,” Saitama commended his partner. He would have given a thumbs up, but his hands were full from the salvaged food. Genos turned around to thank his mentor for the compliment, but froze when he saw what the hero was carrying around.

“Sensei... why...”

“What? I don't wanna waste food if it's still good. This stuff's still covered so it's fine.”

“Yes, but...” Genos quickly realized any argument against taking the food would be futile, and let out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he acquiesced, “but what now?”

“Hey, are you two OK?!” a familiar voice shouted from outside the newly “renovated” hall. The pair turned to find Mumen Rider in full uniform with a bag of groceries hanging from a handle bar.

“Oh, hey Mumen,” Saitama said before walking over to the other hero.

“I heard a loud explosion while I was out getting groceries, so I checked out and came as fast as I could. Looks like you took care of... everything... though,” he finished while looking around at the destruction.

“Yeah things got kinda messy,” Saitama nodded. “But, uh, we still managed to salvage some of the food, so that's good.” He hoisted up the trays in his arms to show off to the hero.

“Hmmm,” Mumen mused for a few seconds. “Hey, I have an idea!” He held up his pointer finger to emphasize the fact that he had an idea. “Why don't we stop off at the store so I can pick up a little more meat, and we can use it and those vegetables in a hot pot? I haven't had a chance to make that in ages!”

Saitama was on board almost immediately.

“Heck yeah!” the hero beamed. “That sounds great! You wanna do it, Genos?”

Even though the cyborg wasn't particularly thrilled about how the night had gone, he couldn't overlook the fact that Saitama seemed exceptionally happy over the suggestion.

“That's great,” Mumen smiled. “The store's right on the way home, so it won't take long at all to go in there, get what we need, and head back out.”

The group of three left the hall's parking lot with some light-hearted discussion, and completely ignored the owner of the establishment, who had just shown up. It was probably for the best that nobody was around him in the end; the string of expletives that spewed forth from his mouth could have made even Tiger-level monsters shrink back in horror.

“Alright, took a minute to put together, but here we are!” Mumen smiled as he set the hot pot assembly on the middle of the table. Finely-sliced pieces of beef along with vegetables had been carefully arranged in the bowl which was just now starting to heat up. It would be a little while before everything was ready, but even now the aroma was enough to make Saitama's mouth water.

“Hey, thanks for this,” Saitama said as they continued to sit around and wait for their food to be ready.

“It's no problem! Honestly, I was surprised to see you two out tonight of all nights.”

“Yeah,” the hero replied. “Funny enough, I almost overslept and forgot about it! Ha ha!”

Saitama's last sentence was enough to cause Genos to turn around and give him a mildly stone-faced look. The crack on his head was still very much visible, thank you very much.

In the end Genos couldn't deny that laughing off the incident was probably the best idea, despite the fact that it 100% was Saitama's fault in the first place. Tonight had turned out alright in light of their earlier setbacks, and nobody wanted to ruin it now. Genos merely waited silently for the hot pot to finish cooking as the other two heroes talked about everything and nothing at all.

“Is it done yet?” Saitama eventually asked, prompting Genos to pick up a pair of chopsticks and poke at the food.

“Seems so,” the cyborg replied.

“Aw sweet!” Saitama eagerly picked up his bowl and chopsticks, then pulled out a little bit of every item from the hot pot that was within his reach. Mumen and Genos quickly followed suit.

The pair didn't leave until nearly midnight, and to Mumen's delight cleaned out the hot pot bowl and all the dishes they had used. As the lone hero turned off the lights to his kitchen and living room, he couldn't help but let out a contented sigh. He had only planned on having dinner on his own tonight, but sheer chance had led to Saitama and Genos joining him for the evening. It wasn't anything fancy or extravagant, but he had a great time and hoped the two other heroes did as well.

Saitama woke up with a start the next morning.

They had left all of their food at Mumen's house!

[kvhottie]

Last Stop

For: @yankasmiles

Pairing: TsukkiYama

Word Count: 3.4K

Rating: G, with absolutely no triggers

Summary: Tsukishima’s commute to and from work used to be boring. But recently a man who always rode until the last stop of his night bus captured his attention. Dressed mostly in black and heavily pierced, the man was beautiful—and Tsukishima was falling for him.

*Alternatively, a punkguchi and preppyshima adult au with lots of christmas romanticism. 

Read on Ao3

It was the same routine every day: wake up at six, get to work at eight, leave at seven, and make it back home at nine. Nothing really changed aside from Tsukishima’s day-to-day attempts to vary his lunches and…him.

He was a mystery—a man also in his early twenties who was always in Tsukishima’s night bus. Part of Tsukishima’s commute was a forty-five minute bus ride from the train station to his apartment complex in the boondocks. Every weekday he got off in the second to last stop, leaving this man to ride alone to the last one. Tsukishima didn’t know for how long they had been taking the same bus since he had a habit of putting on his pink headphones and sticking his nose in a book to block out the world. But about three months ago, when he got to a good place to pause in his book, he decided to look outside from his window seat on the bus, but instead of the snow covering everything in white, his eyes caught that man's reflection from across the aisle. He was...different.

With long mossy-brown hair that hit his shoulders and was styled half-up half-down to expose the many piercings in his ears, an affinity to the color black, and a spiky leather jacket—he drew a lot of attention, Tsukishima's included. But he paid no mind to the eyes burying into him. He simply leaned against the window with his earbuds on and trained his eyes on his phone screen for the duration of the ride. Not that Tsukishima would watch him for the whole forty-five minutes! He'd just peek over occasionally, when the scene in his book allowed him a breath, and took note of small details regarding this man.   His hands were long and delicate, nails rounded into an almond shape and always painted black. He liked to stack rings on his fingers, and would mix and match different types of black and silver bands. Sometimes his mouth would break into a smile while staring at his phone, and soon after a sweet, muffled laugh would follow. Tan freckles dusted his nose and cheeks and they were beautiful—he was beautiful.   Today, though he was still wearing his iconic leather jacket, he had also donned a burgundy beanie and a big black scarf. It was the middle of December after all, at one point he had to get cold. The fact that it took him this long baffled Tsukishima, who had already busted out his scarf and extra layers back in November. Just looking at him made Tsukishima shiver, and he sunk deeper into his light blue knit scarf and thick camel coat. He set his book to the side and rested his head on the window; his coworkers had dragged him out of work early to get drinks and he was tired from all the forced social interaction and the alcohol. There was still a long way until his stop so closing his eyes for a little bit…wouldn't…hurt.   “...Hey. Hey.”   Tsukishima felt a hand softly shake his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes and found round brown ones staring at him. It took him a few seconds to recognize the owner of those lovely eyes, but the moment he did, he sat up with a jolt.   “Uh—”   “I was afraid you’d miss your stop.” The man gave him warm smile. His freckles looked even more charming when sitting on top of his smiling lips. “It was a shame to wake you when you’d been sleeping so peacefully, but your stop is coming up.”   “Yeah.” Tsukishima nodded, a bit speechless from the sudden interaction. “Thanks.”   “No problem…”   The man looked like he wanted to say something else, but at that moment the bus halted and the bus driver announced his stop. Tsukishima hurriedly grabbed his bag and shuffled out of his seat, giving the man yet another awkward nod before leaving the bus. And all the while walking to his apartment building, opening his door, and taking off his shoes, he thought about how dumb he must have looked during the interaction. He decided the best way to repair that horrible first impression was to thank him again on Monday, this time with more than one word.   Tsukishima reached inside his bag for his phone and the book he was trying to work through before falling asleep on the bus. He found his phone, but after thoroughly looking through his bag a realization struck him: he forgot the book on the damn bus.   “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath.   Now, most people’s only concern with leaving a book behind on the bus is a bit of sadness that it might be lost forever. For Tsukishima the former didn’t bother him at all, he could just get another copy from his workplace. What did concern him was that the man might have noticed that Tsukishima left his book behind and looked inside to see what he was reading. Because what he was currently reading, well, truthfully, what he was almost always reading was a very sappy and romantic shoujo manga.   Tsukishima started liking shojou manga when he was in college. Growing up he had read shounen like every other boy, but soon got bored of the seemingly repetitive plots. He chalked it up to having “outgrown” manga in general and moved on to novels. But one day while aimless browsing the library shelves, he picked up the first volume of Lovely Complex, and that was the start of his secret obsession. When he graduated college he applied to many office jobs, one of them being the editorial department of his favorite manga company, Shogakukan. Though the hiring manager apologized that their only editorial position was in the department responsible for making Ciao, one of the most popular shoujo manga magazines in Japan, Tsukishima quietly thanked the gods and accepted the position.   Only his family and closest friends knew of his love for shojou—and that’s solely because it was going to be more trouble hiding it from them than just being honest. And he didn’t tell his coworkers outright, but they were slowly getting the sense that despite Tsukishima’s indifferent expression, he actually enjoyed working in their department. Tsukishima wasn’t necessarily ashamed of it, but he did feel self-conscious of being a grown twenty-two year old guy reading shojou. He didn’t want people judging him solely based on his hobby. So he always put a book sleeve on his manga when he read them outside.   Except a freaking book sleeve was not going to stop that guy from looking inside and finding out he was reading shoujo. The same guy Tsukishima was trying to save face with by thanking him again for his good deed (and who he found highly attractive). Just his fucking luck.   But…maybe he didn’t look inside. Maybe he didn’t even notice Tsukishima dropped the book and the proof of his shame was lost forever. This stubbornly positive thought was the only thing helping Tsukishima get through the weekend and Monday work hours without growing more and more mortified. When it came time to ride the bus, he sat in his usual seat and hyper-vigilantly watched the door. Once they reached the stop that the man usually boarded the bus on, Tsukishima held his breath to see where the man would sit. The man saw him, gave him a tiny smile, and sat right next to him. Tsukishima had never wanted so badly to have the power to dissolve into the seat and disappear from this earth.   “Hello.”   “Hey.”   “Um, you dropped your book last time.” The man opened his pin covered messenger bag and took out Tsukishima’s book, handing it to him. “Here you go.”   Tsukishima took the book and held it in his lap. “Thank you, uh, for this and for waking me up last time.” He stared down at the pale green book sleeve and rubbed his finger against the soft surface.   The man turned a bit toward him and cleared his throat. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi…I noticed we’re always on the night bus together. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”   Tsukishima looked up and met the man—Yamaguchi’s—gaze for the first time. It was curious and incredibly warm. “I’m Tsukishima Kei.” He also had wanted to talk to him for a long time, but he wasn’t brave enough to say it.   “Tsukishima, huh.” Yamaguchi grinned to himself.   “…” Tsukishima simply stared at him. He was never really good at talking to strangers and was a bit star struck by how close Yamaguchi was sitting. Every detailed he had noticed from across the bus these weeks prior were just a few inches away, calling to him.   “So, I know it was rude of me, but I took a peek inside.” Yamaguchi furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands together apologetically. “Sorry, curiosity got the best of me.”   Tsukishima sighed, shrugging a bit. “What did you think? It’s weird that someone like me is reading shoujo, isn’t it?”   “What? No, actually—” Yamaguchi paused, biting his lip and tucking hair behind his ear as he lowered his gaze. “I think it suits you well.”   “You’re the first person to say that,” Tsukishima muttered and laughed through his nose.   “I like it too, you know.”   “What? Shoujo?”   “Yeah.” Yamaguchi pulled out his phone and tapped a video streaming app. “You probably won’t believe me but I was in the middle of watching the first season of the series you are reading. Kimi ni Todoke, right?” Yamaguchi showed Tsukishima his progress.   Tsukishima looked down at the phone and then up at Yamaguchi again. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”   “Well, because…” Yamaguchi shook his head and put his phone back in his pocket. “Forget it, it’s dumb.”   They were silent for a while. Tsukishima stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked through the window at the trees, rice fields, and tiny houses they were passing by. He could feel Yamaguchi staring at him so he turned around again, and gave him his attention.   Yamauchi tugged at the rips in his black jeans. “How long have you liked it?”   “Since college.” Tsukishima thumbed through the pages of the book in his lap. “But I actually work for a shoujo manga magazine, so I’m always reading it now.”   Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s awesome! Editorial department?”   “Yeah…” Tsukishima looked at him suspiciously. “Did you guess that because of the glasses?”   Yamaguchi chuckled and stuck out his tongue. “Pretty much.”   God damn, he was so endearing. Tsukishima hoped he wasn't being obvious in his ogling. What was he even supposed to do now? He should probably ask him about himself since so far Yamaguchi was the only one doing the asking. Yeah, he’d do that.   “What about you? What do you do?”   Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Eh, on the weekdays I’m a gallery assistant. And on some weekends I’m in an amateur rock band that plays in coffee houses and clubs, places like that.”   “Oh…that makes sense.”   “You mean the whole punk look?” Yamaguchi smirked. “Yeah, that started before the band thing.”   Tsukishima pushed up his glasses and looked down at his book again. His heart couldn’t take much more of this guy smiling at him. “What do you play?”   “I play some guitar, but I’m mostly their vocalist.”   “That’s cool.” Tsukishima couldn’t help but think that he wanted to hear what Yamaguchi sounded like. Not that he would tell him that.   “You should come hear us play.” Yamaguchi sifted through his bag again and took out a leaflet. “If you’re not doing anything on Christmas Eve, we’re having an event at the café in the station.”   Tsukishima looked at the leaflet, slid it into his book, and put the book away in his bag. His stop was coming up so Yamaguchi got out of his seat to let him by. “I’ll come,” Tsukishima replied.   “You will?”   “Sure.” Tsukishima shrugged, “I have nothing to do on that day anyhow,” and gave him a quick wave as he stepped off the bus. His usual walk home felt strangely warm.   They sat together everyday until the night of the Christmas Eve event. Often they would talk about what happened at work that day, or current things they were in charge of. There were times Yamaguchi would convince Tsukishima to watch the first episode of the anime version of a shoujo manga they had both read. In those moments Yamaguchi would offer an ear bud, and Tsukishima would lean close, touching shoulders, to watch from Yamaguchi’s phone screen. But he wasn’t really paying attention—his mind was busy making note of the sweet scent of Yamaguchi’s cologne and musical note to his laughter.   Sometimes Yamaguchi would sit there listening to his music while Tsukishima read whatever manga he was currently enjoying. If the workday had been a tough one, Tsukishima would wake up on Yamaguchi’s shoulder, having fallen asleep without noticing. He’d give a short apology, ears turning red from embarrassment, and Yamaguchi would shake his head with a soft smile.   “Don’t worry. I’ve also done it.” He’d reply.   And it was true, there was one time he had fallen asleep on Tsukishima’s shoulder. They were watching a video on Yamaguchi’s phone and Tsukishima felt a weight on his shoulder. He didn’t mind; having Yamaguchi this close to him was comfortable. He paused the video and stared at the back of the seat in front of them, listening to Yamaguchi’s soft breath and thinking about how hard he was falling for him.

Tsukishima felt very out of place in this Christmas event. The café was mostly filled with other people that had an affinity to black or had an actual interest in the kind of music that was blaring from the stage. Tsukishima was neither. He sat in a table all the way to the left, with his favorite lilac cardigan and a white button up, and a completely disinterested face. It wasn’t that the music was necessarily displeasing, it was just the sole purpose for him coming to this thing was to see Yamaguchi. So he was going to be grouchy until he did.   Luckily, Tsukishima didn’t have to wait much longer. Yamaguchi’s band, Harken Spear, was the main act and there had only been two opening acts before they took the stage. Yamaguchi walked to the microphone and addressed the cheering crowd while his band members settled into their instruments. He had a messy bun, perfectly winged eyeliner, and was wearing a grey distressed muscle tee, a plaid long sleeve around his waist, and tight black skinny jeans. He looked so good—he always did— but even more so up on that stage. With the microphone by his lips and all the eyes on him, he was radiating.   The first song was upbeat and loud, but even with all the things that would usually distract Tsukishima, he was completely focused on Yamaguchi’s voice. It was a bit scratchy yet also smooth and alluring. It had the perfect balance of roughness and charm, with great countertenor to baritone range. And it wasn’t only his voice, the way he worked the microphone and moved around the stage was enrapturing. The crowd sang along passionately to every song. And Tsukishima continued to sit there with his eyes trained on Yamaguchi, hands sweating, and heartbeat louder than the band’s drums.   Harken Spear ended the night with a mellow song heavy on vocals and soft on drums and guitar. It used the wide range of Yamaguchi’s wonderful voice and was easily Tsukishima’s favorite of the night. As the song reached its end, the soft drums and guitar still playing in the background, Yamaguchi spoke to the audience.   “This was dedicated to that magical chance encounter you may have had this year or will hopefully have next year.” Yamaguchi glanced towards Tsukishima’s direction and gave him a wicked smile. “Merry Christmas.”   Did he look directly at him? It was possible that he was just imagining what he wanted to have happened. But if it really was directed at him then that could mean…   Tsukishima spent the next twenty minutes with these thoughts whirling in his head.   “Hi.” Yamaguchi said as he walked to Tsukishima’s table. “Thanks for coming.”   Tsukishima snapped out of it, looking around him to see that most of the café had emptied out while he was having his internal crisis. “No problem…” Tsukishima put on his coat and scarf, standing up to talk to Yamaguchi face-to-face. “You were really good,” he admitted.   Yamaguchi’s face went red and he quickly looked down at his shoes to hide his expression. “Thank you…I’m really happy you think that.”   Yamaguchi was unbearably cute like this—he was increasingly more precious with every expression and action he made. Tsukishima wished he could lower his pride for two seconds to tell him so. But instead he only pushed these feelings further down his throat and checked his watch. “The last bus should be coming soon.”   “Oh.” Yamaguchi looked up again, his blush faint but persistent. “I’m also heading home. Do you want to walk there together?”   “Yeah.” Tsukishima stuffed his hands in his coat. “I do.”   Yamaguchi grinned. “Okay. Let’s go.”   The café was in the opposite side of the station than the bus stop so they had quite a bit to walk. They talked about their plans for tomorrow, and it pretty much consisted of food and family for the both of them. Yamaguchi led them diagonally across the station, but took an efficient but often-unused walkway running on the outside left wall off the station. It had an overhead covering but the piling snow blew about around them.   Tsukishima burrowed further into his scarf. “You know we could have kept walking inside, right?”   “I do,” Yamaguchi replied and stopped walking.   Tsukishima also stopped, somewhat miserable but also curious as to why Yamaguchi was biting his lip and taping his leg so nervously.“…”   “Uh, um.” Yamaguchi took a step closer to Tsukishima and retrieved a small rectangular gift from his bag. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks but this is for you.”   “Huh?” Tsukishima looked down at the gift. “But I have nothing for you.”   Yamaguchi shook his head. “It’s fine. Please open it.”   “Okay.” Tsukishima carefully unwrapped the box, hands shaking from the cold and his own nerves, and opened it to reveal a pair of light blue gloves.   “They match your scarf. It was surprisingly hard to find the exact shade but I hope they are close enough.” Yamaguchi took another step closer. “There’s one more thing—”   “—I like you,” Tsukishima muttered and then shortly realized what had come out of his mouth. He snapped his head up, face and ears burning red. “I-I mean, what I meant was I like the gloves,” he clumsily tried to correct himself.   “I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Yamaguchi laughed, face burning up with equal intensity to Tsukishima’s. “I also like you—I mean, the gloves.”   “That smug look makes me want to take it back,” Tsukishima grumbled, eyebrows furrowed.   “Please don't,” Yamaguchi whispered, gaze locked to Tsukishima’s.   Tsukishima glanced around them and returned his gaze to Yamaguchi’s face, eyes unconsciously traveling to his lips. “…Can I kiss you?” He had wanted to for so long.   Yamaguchi nodded, reaching for Tsukishima’s free hand. It was icy, but warmed up quickly when intertwined with Yamaguchi’s warm one. Tsukishima leaned forward to gently press their lips together for a few moments; Yamaguchi’s lips were incredibly soft, and felt good on his own. Yamaguchi placed his other hand on Tsukishima’s cheek and slowly moved his lips against Tsukishima’s, breaths exchanging, and the freezing temperature long forgotten.   After a few minutes Yamaguchi pulled away with a blissful smile. He squeezed Tsukishima’s hand just slightly before letting it go. “We should head to the bus or we’ll miss it.”   “Yeah…” Tsukishima replied, somewhat dazed. He looked at his gift box for a second and carefully put it inside his bag.   “You’re not going to put it on now? We still have a little bit to walk.”   Tsukishima smirked and grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand again, leading them towards the bus. “When I’m with you I don't need it.”

@haikyuusecretsanta 

[the-green-haired-fellow]

Green eyes of envy Jerome X Reader

“Shoo kitten I have important business to attend. I don’t need you hanging around my shoulders.. You’re getting in the way.” Jerome stared at me his green eyes glimmering with anger and what I read to be hate. Nodding afraid I backed out of the room Jerome and the others were in. This new group of obsessed cultists that built Jerome up to be a god, having broken Jerome out of Arkham for the whole Bruce Wayne circus thing. Now he was just an uppity, cocky, brat! None of the Gotham officials knew where he was only the fact that he was gone. This made it so we could live fairly comfortably in the mansion of one of the cultists. 

At that moment they were all chatting about their great come-out called “Panic! under the disco” the name being a close rip-off but was accepted due to Jerome’s enthusiasm. Unimpressed I stormed back to the room Jerome and I shared slamming myself down on the bed weakly hitting one of the pillows.  Mockingly I insulted Jerome with childish remarks like “Rotten Ginger” and “Bitch baby blah blah blah” things he would probably not like to hear. “Oh darling!” He cried happily his footsteps coming down the same hallway I had just stormed down. I sat up acting happy “Yes Jerome?” I said pretending to be happy. He poked his head in the door smiling his usual wide smile. “Oh there you are” I watched him stroll confidently sitting down on the bed in front of me crossing his legs like a child. “I need you to put on the most ravishing and..” he came close to me whispering deeply. ‘and revealing” I smirked watching him put on his show of explaining that I was going to be the main bait. Great. I loved being bait. Like the good girl I am I nodded happily snooping around in the closet for my tight black dress that had crossed strings all the way down the dress stopping in an arrow just before my... girly parts. I absolutely despised wearing revealing clothes it made me feel unattractive and like a caged animal only there to let greasy eyes fantasize about the things they would like to do to me. Jerome watched me put on the dress smirking like an asshole. I carried on flicking my long black and purple hair behind my pale shoulders. walking into the bathroom that connected to the right of our walk in closet. 

Jerome didn’t follow only saying “We tango in five!” then left the room. I rolled my eyes applying my make-up faster then I was comfortable with. I settled with a mediocre smokey eye and the overrated winged eyeliner everyone and their grandma wore. When I was satisfied I grabbed a pair of black flat and ran barefoot out the door. I saw black SUV we used as transportation creeping down the driveway. Knowing Jerome would never have them stop for me I began to run at the van the gravel below my feet seeming to rip my sole to pieces. When I got close enough the back door swung open and I was able to dive in panting.  I heaved out of breathe looking at Jerome who sat smiling smudgy in the front seat. “I hope you brought other shoes doll, those flats just won’t do.” I looked down worried knowing that I was most likely going to be a cause of one of his legendary melt-downs. He sat up suddenly in his seat peering angrily at me. Without me being aware what was going on a par of heavy black heels was thrown at me striking me hard in the face. Jerome laughed clapping his hands. “Strike one!” turning his attention way from me to the road ahead. I held my stinging cheek breathing deeply to avoid crying. Jerome got off on tears, mine would only get him going more. He had become such an asshole ever since he had his face flailed off, just because he had come back from the dead and has all these new followers didn’t mean he was so high and mighty. I shook the thoughts away pulling on the heels. “Stop huffing and puffing dear it’s not attractive.” I glared at his face which was gazing still out the window. o my surprise he turned his head seeing my hateful glare. I dropped my head hoping he wouldn't say anything, he didn’t having been interrupted the the SUV having it’s breaks slammed. 

Jerome bounced up and down excitedly in his chair. “Woo! you ready boys!” He slammed the drivers shoulder. They all jumped out hollering sneaking in through the back to go planting some bomb or do whatever they had planned for the nights festivities. I grunted opening the door and getting out. My ankles wobbled in the heels Jerome had struck me with due to their height and weight. I wandered up the side of the building towards the entrance. It was spray painted with cults and gang sighs, a type of art work that had seemed to be marking every corner of this city. I didn’t know how I felt about that to wbe honest, now I was no goody-goody I had killed more people than most war vets but still I imagined a mother holding her sons hands walking down the street, her son would smile and point to the bit of graffiti asking innocently ‘what is that mommy?’ she would only frown having a feeling that her sons infatuation could lead to involvement and then blam! death by gang member. I wouldn’t want my kids to end up this way. Coming around the front I spotted the doorman, he was young and handsome, easy to woo. I smiled walking up to him. “Gee it’s awful cold out. Do you mind if I step in and warm my hands.” Gently I swirled my hands around his belt feeling his heartbeat quicken. “Su-Sure step right in” I winked walking past him. “Thank you” I would make sure he would live on past tonight. Inside the club was the same as the rest of them baring music, flashing decorations, dumb young people blah, blah, blah. I made my way to the bar ordering three shots of tequila, salt on the rims or each. 

The bartender was quick and courteous serving me them up quick so I could down them all feeling the unwelcome burn of hard alcohol. I grimaced at the taste. I took money out of my bra and slid it a crossed the table thanking hi before turning around and mapping everything out. Jerome was no where to be seen only a mass of bobbing heads none of them having the fire red hair he did. I grew lonely at the thought of him not being around but then again I didn’t really ever want to see him when he was around. He had become to cruel ever since he came back to.. dead. almost. 

I squinted looking harder, nothing. “Hello miss?” I heard a smooth voice say. I turned to it looking at the face addressing me. He was a thin guy handsome strong jawline, thick black hair. I smiled “How-do-you-do?” I said politely warming up to the stranger. He blushed almost shocked to have my attention. “I’m doing goo-” he dropped his head embarrassed, chuckling to himself quietly. “The real reason I came over here was to ask you to dance. You’re so beautiful and.. alone. It do sent seem right” Now this sounds pathetic but my heart seemed to skip a little. He had the face of a kind hearted man that understood other struggles. I quivered a bit. “S-sure”  He led my carefully out to the dance floor reaching the far right corner where it wasn’t to crowded. We faced each other getting into a casual dancing routine, polite and friendly. Neither of us talked very much but we often exchanged looks smiling like fools whenever his happened. A part of me wanted to lay my head on his shoulders to feel his heart beat as well as the sway of his body, but I didn’t not wanting to ruin the moment. I opened my mouth to ask him his name but before I could get it out a voice cracked over the loud speakers. “Good evening ladies and gentleman what a great-” The voice cut out. Squinting i looked towards the speakers that seemed to be projecting the voice. Jerome was standing in top of the tallest speaker microphone in hand, DJ bleeding out next to him. Jerome’s stare seemed to radiate disgust and hate. “Oh Y/N?” he said in a matter of fact tone. I tugged on my new found friends shoulder urging him to leave with me. “Hey someone stop her!” Jerome yelled something like panic wavering in his voice. I grabbed onto the strangers hand harder pushing our way through the mass o confused people. 

None of his men could catch us so we were out of the club and out of sight by the time they reached the front door. “You need to get in your car and hurry home” The stranger nodded knowing who Jerome was. Before he turned to leave he closed in on my face slowly planting a warm kiss on my lips. I shivered this being the first compassionate kiss since.. well.. never? He walked away without saying another word leaving me out in the wet night air. I giggled like a little girl twirling around on the sidewalk until something cold stopped me. Cringing I knew exactly what it was.

 “Who’s your new boyfriend?” the voice writhed. Sighing I turned around “Jerome-” he cut me off with one finger grabbing my hand and leading me to the alleyway we had parked in. “Let’s talk doll?” Nervously I stopped dead in my track knowing this could end in one of his famous torture cessions. He glared back at me snarling. “I said let’s talk.” he yanked harder on my arm forcing me to follow behind. “ladies first” he said opening the passenger side door ushering me in with a big smile. Nervously I gt in feeling a bit relieved to be off my feet, He got in the drivers side silently fuming as he started p the car. I avoided his gaze instead focusing on the city lights that whizzed by. He headed in the direction of the home we were currently staying in., hopefully if all things went right we would hash out of anger in the bedroom between the satin sheets like we always had but I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those times. We had just reached the gravel driveway when Jerome slammed on the breaks. He looked at me smiling sickly “I apologize I haven’t had my drivers license since.. well.. never!” he shrugged happily for a moment until his grin faded. He started the breathe heavily staring uncomfortably into my eyes. 

I tried to look away wanting to focus my attention on the night sky but his gaze held me still. We stayed put for a few seconds until in some fit of rage he pulled out a pistol and stuck it to my forehead. “ya know I should kill ya’ doll embarrassing me in front t of all those people?” he snaked towards me a mulishness grin overtaking his face, he was hurt though something in the deep part of his eyes told me so. I wanted to scream at him expressing how horrible he had been to me but that would only make him want to blast me even more so I took his cruelties. He stared st me not blinking until I nodded acknowledging him. Slowly he took the gun down looking out the front window chuckling to himself.

 I wiped a tear off of my cheek sneaking a look at him, his eyes were widened with the night sky, his fists pulsating on the steering wheel. Suddenly he began to laugh harder thrashing his fists and head off of the wheel yelling nonsense at no one in particular. He grabbed my hair pulling me closer to his face. Seething in my ear. “Why did you do this to me?” His hand shook as he held onto my hair. “I-I’m sorry I-” I shook my head slightly trying to loosen his grip but it was no use. “You will be sorry Kitten- I you were stronger than this” I opened myself up a little hoping to deescalate the situation. “You’re cruel to me Jerome. You treat me like one of your thugs that you can just throw around all you want. I’m not though and you know it.” He let go of my hair looking coldly into my eyes. “Since when have you become so entitled?” He asked ending with a horrible laugh. I rolled my eyes getting out of the SUV before getting out all the way though I chucked the blasted heels he had previously thrown at me. They hit him and he gasped, I didn’t see his reaction due to the door slamming him out of my view. 

I started walking the sound of the cold gravel crunched under my feet. I focused on the sound instead of the possibility of Jerome starting up the car and running me over. “Y/n wait!” I heard him yell beginning to jog after me. I started in a full run hoping to get far far away from him. His pace quickened behind me I was always a slow runner and plus he had shoes on so it wouldn’t be long until he caught up to me. Again I tried to focus on the night sky as I ran but it was no use the feeling of his hand latching onto my arm. “gotcha” he said  His fingernails dug into my skin, I winced at the pain kicking him as hard as I could in the shin. He growled loosing his balance and falling to the floor. I took off in a full sprint distracted when I heard him cock his gun behind me. I ducked hearing it fire three times. I stayed flat on the ground feeling the dust form the rocks get into my eyes. I blinked rapidly trying to rid myself of this pain. Jerome walked up to me sticking out his left hand, his gun still in the right. I grabbed it and he helped me up. “What is the matter with you?!” I said mad. 

He shrugged looking into my face. “You think?-” He shook his head looking for the right thing to say. “Look I haven’t been the nicest guy- I know- but seeing you kiss” He growled violently kicking rocks, “I dont want to talk about it! the point is- I’m sorry! Just stop doing this and be my doll again.” I was shocked at his words he looked defeated his face morphed in sadness. I nodded grabbing his hand.. “Why did you kiss him?” he said suddenly walking back to the car. I shrugged “I don’t know” he scoffed “I don’t know?, I don’t know!” His hand wrapped around my throat. “How do you not know. You act like it’s nothing but you don’t have to live with it. You don’t have to live with that-” he busted out laughing striking the car with his fists until his knuckles bled. Pan icing at the smudged blood on the car window I ran up behind him and hugged his waist as hard as I could hoping to calm him down. He stopped breathing heavily. “Oh doll you kill me” he said hopelessly. 

I unraveled my arms and grabbed his hand skipping the car ride home walking him the ten feet to the house. I opened the front door letting us both in. “Who was he? huh? Some stud? Business broker with his life in gold?” Hr groaned leaning up against the kitchen table that sat to the right of the door. I shrugged again saying ‘I don’t know’ he winced at my words flipping the table over. “Stop saying that! You’re my whole world and this is how you-” he laughed. I dropped my head all to be lifted up when he was quickly in front of me. “I need to speak with you in the bedroom.” He growled walking away. I grew excited watching his broad shoulders imagining them without the white button up shirt he was wearing. I smiled skipping behind him entering the bedroom just as he was sitting on the desk in front of his bed a devilish look on his face. He snake up to me whispering in my ear. “I’m going to make you forget all about him. I’m the only stud in your life. You got that Doll?” I nodded my hear pulsing in my head. 

His hands made their way up under my shirt, his skin cold on my body heat. I closed my eyes letting myself enjoy the sensation until my shirt was completely off. His lips kissed my neck smoothly while he continued to grip the rest. I sighed wishing he was always like this. His lips moved up to my ear, nibbling slightly on my earlobe. He began to whisper. “Don’t even hurt me again.” I opened my eyes sadness coming over my whole body until I saw him smirking as he left the room. “Jerome!” I yelled. IT took awhile for him to answer. “Sorry kitten things to do, places to be, doll snatchers to kill. But don’t worry” Jerome poked his head into the room smiling “I will be back when he’s dead” I shivered in excitement as his foot steps traveled down the hall again and out the front door. 

Thank you for reading all more to come Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

[pixiealtaira]

Just A Little Ditty

Pairing: Kadam

Prompt two of Kadam week 2017

Just a Little Ditty

Adam knew Kurt was a mechanic. He knew Kurt was certified and could legally work in his dad’s shop…or any others if he so chose, with a little bit of effort put into getting legalities right or something or other. He knew Kurt was going to spend the first half of summer working at Burt’s garage.  It would involve tires and grease and dirt and sweat and Kurt threatened Adam’s life if he dared take photo proof back to the Apples.

Kurt had left for Lima and his job a week before Adam was able to leave New York.  Kurt talked his dad into letting Adam stay in one of the extra rooms at the house and getting a fixer car for Adam to drive while in Lima, since he was getting Kurt one as well.  Burt had picked up Adam from the airport in Columbus and the chat on the way to Lima was full of the usual ‘you hurt my kid’ threats, but Adam hadn’t minded. He just was really looking forward to see Kurt after it all and reminding himself why it was worth it.

Adam knew Kurt was a mechanic. It just hadn’t really sunk in what that meant.

Burt drove Adam directly to the garage. He’d promised Kurt that Kurt could have the rest of the day off to get Adam settled in and show him around if Kurt worked until Adam arrived, so they hadn’t stopped anywhere on the way to Lima. Adam had been quite hungry and eager to collect Kurt and head off to the house to drop his bags off and maybe even just eat there.

However the sight of Kurt that met Adam at the garage made him reconsider his hurry.

Burt directed Adam to the doorway beside one of the large garage doors.  Adam opened it to see a most incredible sight.

The first thing he noticed was the cherry red old car…something from the 50s he thought. He knew it was one of those that people drooled over, but he had no clue what it was called.  It had the hood up.

The next thing Adam noticed was Kurt. He was bent over and had his top half shoved under the hood of the car.

Time had been very good to Kurt, if the worn out coveralls the other man was wearing were any indication.  Now, Adam was aware his love was fit.  His favorite time of day was when Kurt practiced Yoga. Lovely abs, trim waist, muscled thighs, calves and arms, sculpted hind end, string shoulders and an absolute magnificent back were his morning meditation.  It was just that the coveralls seemed to highlight Kurt’s best attributes.  The coveralls were light blue and had the garage logo on the back. They were tight over his shoulders and through his back.  They fit nicely over the seat area…they fit very nicely over the seat.

The sleeves were rolled up till they were short, and stretched over Kurt’s bicep.  The muscles in Kurt’s arms bunched and relaxed as Kurt did whatever he was doing to the car.  The pant legs were also rolled up, cuffed at almost the height on Kurt’s calf they they’d rolled their pants to go calm hunting that one time with the Apples. Kurt had on dirty red canvas shoes and white crew socks.  A red baseball cap was backwards on top his head.  

Adam’s eyes were drawn right back to Kurt’s rear end.  It was bouncing as he sang.  Kurt had a red neckerchief tucked in a back pocket that swayed with the motion.

Adam leaned against the door frame and just watched and listened, an amused smile on his face.  He flicked open his phone and started to record.

“…where the creek turns back by the old stump road, I’m going take you to a special place that nobody knows...baby get ready. Ooohhhh.”

The bounce turned into a sway and bop and the rest of Kurt’s body got more into the dance as he hit the chorus.   His feet tapped and did tiny little motions, like they were ghosting steps to a well known dance.

“You and me going fishin’ in the dark. Lying on our backs and counting the stars where the cool grass grows. Down by the river in the full moonlight, we’ll be falling in love in the middle of the night, just movin’ slow. Staying the whole night through, feels so good to be here with you.”

Adam nearly drew Kurt’s attention as he started the second verse.  Kurt’s voice took on a twang and drawl that he’d never admit to but that Adam found pretty adorable.  Kurt was now bopping his head to the song as well as he sang.  Burt appeared on the other side of the garage, having come in through the front and stopped at the office momentarily.  Adam held up his finger in a ‘shhhh’ sign.  

Burt smiled and nodded, watching Adam film Kurt’s performance. Adam thought there just might be some sort of approval in Burt’s smile and nod…he’d just not certain at what.

As soon as Kurt had finished the song, but before he started anything else Burt called out to him.

“Kurt,” Burt yelled. “You done with that tune up yet?”

“Just fiddling now.  It’ll be ready when the owner gets here. Wait! Dad!” Kurt backed out from under the hood quickly, looking towards his dad’s voice. It gave Adam the time to tuck his phone away.  “Where’s Adam?”

Burt laughed.

“Over here, love.” Adam said. Kurt turned his way.  Bits of hair were sticking up from under the cap and there was a smudge on Kurt’s chin.  

Kurt ripped off a pair of gloves and tossed them onto the little cart near the car.  “You’re here,” was almost a whisper before Kurt shouted it again. “You’re here!”

Adam caught his love up in his arms as Kurt ran his way, twirling him around. “Did you expect me to get lost?” Adam asked.

Kurt snorted. “No, but I worried you might think better and stay in New York where things are insane in a good way. I still don’t know what you expect to do here in Lima for several weeks.”

Adam nuzzled his face in Kurt’s neck. “I plan to spend it with you, of course.  Maybe be taught to change a tire or tune a belt or something.”

Kurt laughed. “Or something.”

“Besides, I’ve a screenplay to work on. Professor Tanner said he wanted to see my senior project expanded.  These next few weeks will be perfect.”

“Really?” Kurt jumped again. “Do you think that means he might have someone who could be interested in putting it on?”

“Well..” Adam said slowly. “The last two students he told to expand their projects, and who actually did so, ended up with their plays in off-Broadway theaters.  Both for at least year long runs.  This could be huge, Kurt.”

Kurt squealed and hugged Adam again.

‘Come on,” Kurt said.  “I’ll introduce you to the guys and then we can head out.  Did you stop at the house?  If not, I’ll change at home…maybe shower first.  I’ll fix you something to eat there to tide you over before we find someplace to eat out.  Not too much because we will have dinner at home tonight with Dad and Carole. It’ll be great. Carole is making dinner, not me.  We might be eating drilled burgers. I don’t know, she didn’t say, but she’s as good at grilling as dad and she…”

“Son,” Burt interrupted Kurt. “Are you going to let the boy answer?”

Kurt blushed.

“It’s fine.  My luggage is in your dad’s car.”

“We’ll get it out and you can choose your junker.  Dad has three for you to choose from for the next few weeks.  They don’t’ look great but they’ll run fine for as long as we need them.  The one I picked I know could even get us out and off to places like the lakes or ball games or races or whatever you’d like to see while here. Oh, and maybe we could find an amusement park or something, we’re too early for the fairs but I promise I will not let you be bored the whole summer. I’ve worked extra hour last week and earned a few extra days off. It will be great, and of course there is TV and I’ve got tons of movies and we can hit the theater sometimes, they even have cheap showings everyday.”

The other men in the office like area they’d walked into chuckled as Kurt talked without pausing again, even after Burt had said something.  

“But tonight,” Kurt continued, ignoring the others. “We’ll stay home and everyone can get to know each other.  I know Carole wanted to hear more about the apples and maybe we can sing a bit of a few of the mash-ups for her. We can probably drag out a board game or two as well.  I just hope you don’t get too bored here.”

“Will I get to hear more of those delightful fishin’ type songs?” Adam asked.

Kurt turned cherry red. One of the older men burst into laughter.

“We’ll have to get him to do Elvira for you. It’s a trip!”  The man wearing the blue jean overalls instead of a coverall exclaimed. “And you’ll have to stop by every day to see what the day brings from the songbirds mouth.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Ages upon ages ago they made me a game.  They roll dice as soon as I enter the garage and the one with the highest roll gets to pick songs all day. Even my dad plays, he likes singers like Mellencamp.”

Adam chuckled. “You always did seem to know almost everything the Apples could dig up, even though Rachel constantly dismissed your vocal catalog as solely Broadway show tunes and maybe some Beatles.”

“Rachel wouldn’t know a varied repertoire if it bit her bum.” Kurt said with an eye roll.

“True.  However I am not going to be the one to try to convince the great Rachel Berry of that.  I love having working eardrums.” Adam said. “I can’t wait to hear more here in the shop.”

“This one’s a keeper, champ. Last one was very…rude…about Kurt’s working songs.”

“Last one was rude about Kurt’s working here, plain and simple.”

“Yes, well…this one is a much better model.” Kurt said. “More reliable and trustworthy, too.  Cassius is the one with the grey hair and he’s partial to song choices like the Everly Brothers and John Denver, Hank has the biker boots on and likes old time rock and roll and people like Springsteen and Bon Jovi and Lou is the one obsessed with Elvira.  Robbie is the younger one at the cash register taking Mrs. Roses’ payment. He requests whatever floats into his head.  I’ve sung Sesame Street songs for Robbie…and heavy metal…and Irish pubs songs. We’ve had other workers here with as varied tastes as Mexican Pop to Spirituals and Dixie Tunes.  Hi, Mrs. Rose.”

“Oh, Kurt dear!  Spin around lovely.”  The little white haired lady twirled her finger to Kurt and he complied, rolling his eyes. “Oh My! New York is very good to you isn’t?”

Adam tilted his head and laughed, which brought the old ladies attention to him.

“Oh, and look at what you dragged home this time around.  He’s a nice catch there, dearie.”  Mrs. Rose said, coming over to pat Kurt’s cheek before heading out with Burt, who helped her into her car.

“So what do you sing when it is your choice to pick?” Adam asked.

“What makes you think I ever get a choice?”

Adam laughed.  “Darling, you might play their game but I know you are the one truly in charge.  You play because it is good for you and you enjoy it.  I am sure they all know it as well.”

Kurt smiled and tilted his head towards Adam, conceding the point. “Fine.  My go to mechanic work songs are Disney. Old, new…whatever.  I just sing Disney while I work on cars if it is up to me.”

Adam’s belly laugh filled the room. “I do adore you.”

Kurt snorted. “I should hope so. Are you ready to head out? Are you sure you won’t be bored for the next few weeks?”

“Never.  In fact my love, I think I’m going to be just fine here.” Adam said.

[wizardsnwookies]

Campaign Diary- FOC102617

“I thought you all would appreciate this...” Rugor reclined in his chair and sent the screen on his datapad to the holo projector in the middle of the room so everyone could see. The image split onto three different screens, the largest being a string of code scrolling in a narrow window that they could only assume be feeding the results shown on the smaller pair on the other side. 

“ ‘By the generocity of Numb Nibn, the 23 is proud to announce that from now on every Friday night is now ‘Alien Night.’“ Vrssl let the hand holding his spanner relax against a knee.

“Too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Good because what you’re seeing on the second screen is the Zaaghet’s rating of the 23 plummeting due to a sudden and unfortunate string of bad reviews. A string that will eventually peter off...before picking up again periodically at random.”

Kara laughed and took a bite of a Jala fruit, wiping the juice from her face as it dribbled down her chin. She had decided they deserved to treat themselves after the recent payday, one that had earned them an extra 1,000 credits thanks to Rugor’s forged repossession paperwork. The Rodian speeder dealer wasn’t terrible worried that this would all come back to him, but he greatly appreciated the extra insurance should it happen.

GROWWWR?

“Let me check.” Rugor made a few taps on his data pad and suddenly the projected image became a blur of pages. Kara was impressed, even she wasn’t that fast on the draw with a holo net search. “Huh, looks like they either haven’t found our friend yet or are suppressing the report.”

“Probably the latter.” Vrssl went back to his tinkering while he spoke. He had managed to finish the re-configuring of the arm cannons a few hours ago and at this point was idly pulling things apart and putting them back together while he waited for Rugor to finish the shell programs on the processors. “Not exactly something the imperials would want to broadcast.”

“They ARE reporting a disturbance at the 23 and are currently seeking a wookie for questioning in the matter.”

GROR ROWRK

“Save it for the fights big guy.” Vrssl said.

“Speaking of which, have you given any thought to...performance enhancers?” Rugor looked at the text the appeared on the datapad. He had installed a translator program so that Vrssl wouldn’t constantly have to act as the go between.

[LEGAL?]

“Does it matter?”

[DISQUALIFICATION?]

“It’s an underground fighting ring I’m not sure of the rules, if there are any. Regardless it could come in handy if things get hairy for you.”

[CHEATING NO PROBLEM. DON’T WANT DISQUALIFICATION.]

“Well then don’t get caught.”

Kara shifted in her seat and pulled her communicator out of her back pocket, pulling the large purple fruit out of her mouth before answering. She didn’t bother to swallow first.

“Yeah...hang on.” Kara muted the comm. “You guys interested in another job? Charmer says it’s time sensitive so he needs an answer now.”

The group looked at each other and offered a shrug and a nod. Neither one of them was going to say ‘no’ to more money.

“We’re in. Same place? Got it. See you then.” Kara silenced the come and took another bite of fruit, talking between slurps of the sweet juice that exploded into her mouth. “When’s the other shoe going to drop on this guy?”

“There’s something bigger going on here. I for one want to get more information out of him before we do anything permanent.” Vrssl crossed his arms and thought for a moment. He didn’t know why, but there was something about this that just didn’t add up. “But we can’t just sit on it either. We need to update Graakus and let him know we’re still following the trail, see how far the leak goes.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Kara took one last bite and tossed the core in the incinerator. “We got an hour before we meet him. I’ll be in the refresher.”

---

“Ok, so we don’t have a lot of time on this like I said, just the brass tacks.” Charmer leaned forward in his creaking chair, he could smell Kara from here, a mix of Jala juice and a flowery perfume. Her hair was a lot cleaner than usual, the entire group in general had looked much better off than the last time he saw them. Weedo paid him his commission with his compliments to the team for going the extra mile. Unfortunately his was only a finders fee and did not include  the same kicker they got.

“I’m assuming you’re all familiar with Blastek? Leading supplier of offensive technology in the galaxy. Not only that but they are the sole military contract holder to the Empire. Unfortunately for them said contract didn’t include any kind of term agreement, so they could be dropped for another contractor at any time the Empire sees fit.

“Now there’s a new game in town, ‘Destructive Solutions’ a small startup that’s gaining some clout in the industry. Word has it they are planning some big reveals at the next trade show, and Blastek is getting nervous.

“They tried influencing a buyout by planting corporate spies into the company but the deal never went through. What their spies DID manage to come out with is an extremely exploitable flaw in their security; their security staff is hopelessly addicted to the arena fights.”

“As in, Graakus’s arena fights?” Vrssl prodded, though more out of reaction than genuine need of clarification.

“Hell, half of them are pulling double shifts to cover their bets.” Charmer nodded. “So here’s the job. Make your way into the complex, drain their data completely; schematics, research reports, memos, everything. You can keep whatever working tech you can carry out, but once you’re done the entire place need to be a pile of slag. Ruin them completely. Any questions?”

“Does it have to be tonight?” Rugor asked.

“Why not? You guys have a hot date or something?”

“Graalbar is in the fights tonight.”

“So much the better, put on a show, keep them glued to the holo net instead of the security cameras.”

“I’m just concerned about the loss of muscle is all.” Rugor shifted slightly against the wall.

“Look, I told you this job was time sensitive and you accepted. I already gave you sensitive information, you back out now you’re making things very difficult for me.”

“Well, not really. I mean, it’s not the first time you’d have a second party in on things.” Vrssl smiled, he was toying with Charmer but at the same time he wanted to see how he would react.

“That was...extenuating circumstances. I told you. I was in a bad situation, and it’s not going to happen again.”

“It’ll be fine.” Vrssl nodded before turning to Rugor. “We’ll make it work.”

---

“Ok, first of all...I’ve been to Alderaan and trust me, it doesn’t smell anywhere this good...especially not these days.” Kara turned an especially seedy corner of Huttown without blinking an eye at the imposing figures looming in the shadows. She had her own imposing figure right next to her, and his name was Graalbar. “And secondly someone like you, with all that hair, should seriously consider using some of this stuff. You’ll feel like you’re covered in satin, might even loosen up some of those tangles. It’s in the refresher, I bought a ton of it, go nuts.”

GRAWR RAAAAAALW

“I’m not going to argue with that. There is absolutely nothing intimidating about a two-meter tall wookie who smells like a meadow with the hair of a god. But at the same time, it gives you the element of surprise. Who is really going to expect someone like that to rip their arms off?”

Graalbar pondered this for a moment until they stopped in front of a gaunt looking Ithorian wearing a long tattered coat. She greeted them in a heavily accented basic, and her eyes twitched every other second. He couldn’t help but ask himself, what is it with them and always getting the tweaked out Ithorians?

“What c-can I help you with?”

“We’re looking for something with a little ‘edge.’“ Kara gave the Ithorian a long look-over, keeping her hand akimbo on her hip, close to her blaster.

“Ah, say no more. I have Stims, should give you a bit of a pick-me up, and for a little extra p-punch I have some Jet.” The dealer took a long glance upward at the wookie. “Is this for h-him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I-It is if you want to get your m-money’s worth. Stims are all well and good for you and me, but for him. He might want something with a little m-more juice.”

Kara nodded. “Fair enough. What’ll it be G-man?”

GRAWWK ROOOOOWR

“Jet? It’s an elevator, I’ve seen plenty of fighters on the stuff.”

ROOORWR

“Well, I’ve never taken it myself but I’ve heard it knocks you down a couple pegs once it wares off.”

GRAWR RORK

“Stims it is. Give us half a dozen of each, the regular dose and suped up stuff.” Kara offered out a handfull of cred sticks. 

“Very g-good.” The ithorian eagerly pocketed the cred-sticks. She liked the weight of them on her person and decided to make one last push. “Sure I can’t t-tempt you with some Jet? S-someone like you could use it and make a k-killing in the arenas.”

Graalbar pondered for a moment before eventually holding up a single hairy finger.

“Pleasure d-doing business with you.” The Ithorian passed the wookie a small object that looked like a ball set in the top of an inhaler. He wasn’t sure he’d needed it, but you never know.

“Alright we done here? Cause I’ve got my own shopping to do. I’ve had this data pad rig in my sights for a while now.” Kara tugged on Graalbar’s arm and rushed him out of the alley.

RAWR RORK

“So what? We’ve got a job tonight PLUS all those bets you guys are having me place on you in the arenas. I’ll make it all back by morning and then some.”

RAAAARG

“Ok smart ass, what wise investments are you putting your credits into?”

Kara began to drool as Graalbar listed off a wide assortment of dishes and delicacies from an even wider variety of planets of origin. Half of which she knew only by his description, all of which sounded absolutely delicious.

“...great, now I’M hungry.”