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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Note

I need a very loving Laszlo smut, either top or switch with him, take it any direction you want, any build up, any kinks. But I just... my soul needs this V I need to see this man happy and satisfied

Coming Back Home [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

Author’s note: I am weak to see this man happy, my mind went a bit overboard, but I just couldn't hold it back, to see him happy and fulfilled in all his means, professional and private. Thank you so much for feeding my obsession and being my supporter @cazzyimagines <3

The cold air hit him as a welcome back in the moment he exited the carriage, he was back in New York after six months of study and hard work in Wien, he hated and loved it: he learned a lot and got the chance to talk with some of the best alienists in the field granting himself some valuable resources and upcoming publications, the city was amazing and romantic. But all day, every day, he was with his mind on the life he left here, on you and your baby boy waiting at home patiently, easing his pains with letters and little colourful sketches, reassuring him that he would come back to the same house he left.

It was late, he could see the light in baby’s room was off already and it pained him to be late for the goodnight story.

The driver dropped his belongings beside the door with a huff before taking his money with a big thank you.

Laszlo nodded, a sense of tension taking over him, what if something indeed changed? What if you hate him for leaving for his own interest? Will his son remember him?

The silliest questions took over him and he just rang the bell before the spiral would take over and make him sleep in the garden out of his imaginary shame.

Stevie opened the door and his face lighted up instantly, Laszlo’s hand moved close to his own face with a finger up to signal him to keep quiet. The young lad nodded opening the door more, but a loud whine came out of his lips when he saw the heavy trucks beside Laszlo.

“Stevie? Who is it?”

Your voice vibrated through the walls enveloping Laszlo like a distant memory and a fresh breath of air at the same time.

Stevie mumbled something “Nobody Madam, only some funny head playing with bells at night” he said as Laszlo nodded at him.

He left the coat at Stevie with his gloves and hat making his way to the bedroom upstairs trying to be as quiet as possible, your vanity the first thing that appeared to his sight, he shifted lightly so he could spot your figure reflected in the mirror without being seen.

You were already in your white night dress, hair down wrapped in a braid that rested on your shoulder, his own dark blue night gown draped over you making you appear even smaller, a book resting in your hand, the other hand toying with the fabric of his gown. A soft sigh left your lips and a little smile, you are liking the book. You turn the page with your features lighting up by interest, he felt almost guilty to interrupt you.

“Guten Abend, my love”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise, a smile growing on your lips as he walked inside the room revealing his presence. A sense of nervousness still on him.

“Laszlo” you called rushing to him, discarding the book and throwing the covers onside, closing the distance between the two of you by jumping out the bed like an excited child. Your hands wrapped quickly around his neck, you pulled him in, lips clashing against one another. He smiled in the kiss, eyes a bit teary as the happiness you were able to blossom into his chest since the first time he met you was still there. He cupped your cheek with his left hand, the kiss being long and followed by little short ones, and then again a long one.

“You should have told me” You whispered and he smiled at you noticing how you also got a bit of tears streaming down your cheeks, but all due to happiness. You picked his right hand kissing it lovingly, oh that ritual of yours, that mindless action you always did to kiss the part of him he despised the most.

“Welcome home, my love”

He smiled widely, so wide he felt his cheeks and jaw hurt, while he leaned his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying it. Your little telepathy thing, like he could pour his thoughts to you and vice versa.

In the meanwhile Stevie kept himself far from the two of you not wanting to interrupt or witness anything he shouldn’t. Laszlo pulled back from that position as he stared down at you, your eyes met again as you gulped down a little, his eyes travelling onto your neck as none of you seemed able to pick what words to let out first, too many informations gathered in six months that letters couldn’t covert.

His eyes raising up to yours, you moved first guiding his right hand still safe in your grasp inside that warm robe hiding your body, his fingers meeting with the obscenely thin fabric of your night dress, the shape of your breast clear under his touch, his thumb brushing over your nipple earning an immediate reaction from you.

His breath itched, his tongue wetting his lips as you kept supporting his weak arm while his hand discovered once more what hidden treasure was the body of his wife.

His left hand undoing the silky bow around your neck that kept that useless piece of clothing closed, your breasts being exposed as he leaned his head down lacing his lips with you nipple and giving it a tempting suck, his tongue roaming over it as a sense of home and comfort surged into his stomach, then he spoke and his hot breath against your wet nipple made you shiver.

“Have you done the exercises that I gave you?”

“No”

His eyes shoot up at you, a mix between the need to scold you and desire in them.

“I could do it only with your letters” you added.

“Not touching yourself enough must have been painful, exasperating, you could have brought yourself to hysteria”

“I know, but I was waiting for this moment”

He smirked, the idea to be a vital part of your sexual expression turning him on immensely.

“Which letter was your favourite?”

“The one where you described your fingers inside me, I could imagine it so clearly while I was doing it to myself”

He almost let out a groan only by the sound of your words, the need to go knuckles deep inside you now almost impossible to hold back as the image of your distressed figure rolling onto the sheets trying to emulate that pleasure he only can give you clouded his mind.

His left hand almost angrily undoing the fabric belt the nightgown around your waist before moving behind your back to pull it off your shoulders, you gently let go of his right hand helping him in the task, your hands now tugging his jacket, his waistcoat, beginning already with his shirt buttons, you were so in need, but he was the same. He tugged his shirt off probably ripping off some buttons, the urgency you both felt filling the air.

His eyes trying to take in all your figure as you finally let go of that white dress.

“Oh, meine Frau, no statue or artwork or inspiration I have seen in this travel equals your beauty” he groaned as he felt like he almost forgot how he worshipped your body, how your only presence triggered obscene desires through him.

There was almost a moment of suspense before he leaned his warm body against yours, skin on skin again.

His erection already brushing over your lower stomach as you guided him onto the bed with you laying down for him. “Laszlo” you were about to beg him not to make you wait, not to tease you but his left hand fingers were already between you legs and a yelp of pleasure left you lips immediately.

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

He was so pleased, you didn’t need to look at his face to know, but you whimpered when his long finger pushed inside you, he knew it, he knew exactly how to touch you, how to manipulate all of you. His lips laced to your neck, he sucked on it, bit it, hickeys soon will follow the passage of him. He is back.

To see your own neck pale and empty from his marks pained you everyday, but now he is at home and there won’t be a single centimetre of you spared. Another moan followed as his mouth found your nipples again, your legs trembling as a second finger joined the first one making you gasp for air. The ultimate pleasure approaching in you too quickly, abnormally quickly, but you missed him so much and six months without his care on you was a torment.

His prideful smile gave you the freedom not to restrain your pleasure, your hips jolting up and trembling, more wetness gathering on his fingers before he pulled them out knowing that it would make you feel empty.

He punished you with distance as he sat down on the bed, you crawled over him, legs still feeling like jelly as you forced yourself to straddle him. You didn’t need to rest, you wanted him to bring you to exhaustion and he knew it, he knew you won’t wait anymore. So you aligned him with your folds, his hard cock opening his way into you easily thanks to your recent orgasm, a loud growl leaving Laszlo’s lips.

“My wife, it appears to me that you’re back being a virgin after only six months away from me”

You blushed because his words made you sensitive and proud in a very peculiar way, you moaned slowly beginning to ride him as he kept muffling how tight you’re pressing his forehead against your chest, his left arm wrapping around you. You voiced your pleasure freely, fingers tangling to the back of his head, now it was your turn to guide his pleasure, to set the rhythm, but the pace was slow and deep, the desire still feverish in you, but the closeness inspiring you tenderness.

“How horrible to rest in the cold Wien without you, how empty to walk without your presence” he spoke directly to your chest, to your heart “every achievement was not an achievement if I couldn’t share it with you” he confessed, his hot breath against your breasts.

“You’re back now, next time we will come with you”

You smiled as his eyes shone looking up at you “my wife”

He loved to call you that, he always did, the pride in his voice when he asked you to be his wife the first time came back to your memory. You didn’t need many nicknames, wife and husband, the holy duo, the balance, the symmetry.

“I love you, my husband”

You moaned against him, his fingers digging into your skin, his right hand settling over your hip.

You couldn’t guess how much it lasted, you impaled deliciously yourself over him, he loved to stare at you going on your own on top of him, love it, express fully your feminine power. His left hand teasing your clit sapiently mimicking your movements making it nauseatingly perfect, your mind clouded by pleasure. He cursed, he growled biting onto the side of your breast when filling you up and gaining another moan from you, he held you down as he kept rubbing your clit until he felt your walls clasp deliciously around him, he still didn’t want to move.

He loved to see you helpless, washed over by pleasure, legs jerking aimlessly and fingers pulling onto him and his hair.

You didn’t take time to recover from that second orgasm, his skilled fingers knowing their ways around you, you bowed your head joining your lips again, you still couldn’t believe it.

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

You smiled kissing his forehead “I am lucky with such a husband like you”

You stayed like this, hugging, the time to talk will come, the time to exchange gifts and come back to routine. But not now. After countless minutes you slowly shifted from that position, freeing his hard on from you but slowly moving beside his sitting figure staying on your all fours, the braid that held your hair almost completely loose.

“Come my husband, you only had one orgasm, I know you love even numbers”

The next morning the light from the window hit his eyes, he frowned stirring as he blinked tiredly. Your figure tangled to his in bed, the covers over the both of you. He kissed your forehead out of habit, the marks already forming on your neck made him proud, your regular breathing and gentle perfume mixed with the sweat of sex made his senses alive. You felt him move and woke up pretty easily, probably due to have slept alone for so long. You smiled at each other, no words yet needed, a soft kiss placed on each others lips.

The a soft sound, more like little sounds following one another, little feet rushing down the hallway.

“Mama” being whispered by a very shy boy, his clear brown hair peaking up from the doors.You smirked covering Laszlo completely with the duvets.

“My baby” you said sitting up holding the covers over your body.

“Mami!” He gasped surprised “what happened to your neck?”

“Oh, it is normal my baby, is it so late?”

He nodded and you smiled as he hopped on top of the messy bed, Laszlo smirked from underneath the covers, it seems like somebody took a habit of sneaking into the big bed.

You smiled as your boy resembled so much his father, he crawled to move to your lap and that’s when Laszlo sat up with a loud “Who’s in my bed?” holding his hand up like a claw.

The boy squared but soon threw himself against his father’s chest.

“Apa visszatért!!!” He shouted so loud at you like you didn’t notice Laszlo at all and you chuckled finding the two of them so adorable.

“I am going to get some breakfast done” you said willing to leave them their space. Laszlo nodded at you as you wrapped yourself into your dress and then the thick nightgown. You could hear them talk softly, Laszlo was all about speaking to him in his mother’s language but also in German, so your boy was always mixing the three. “Have you being a good master of the house while I was away?” “Yes Papa, I have been extra good and mommy was happy too, but it is not like when you’re here” Laszlo’s little chuckle won you over even by distance. You had to learn Hungarian through Laszlo, even if you were lucky enough to know German already. But how sweet it was to learn along with your boy.

“Little Andrea woke you up, mrs Kreizler?” The cook, a very nice and good hearted woman asked once you reached the kitchen still wrapped in your night clothes and redoing your braid.

“He did, but his father is back, I couldn’t detain him in any way” You assured as you instructed about the breakfast to make something special. When everything was ready and settled you saw the two of them coming downstairs together, Andrea holding his father’s weak hand into his, still babbling in German to him. The two of them still in their night clothes, you loved to be unruly with them, half of the world outside would be shocked to see a family have breakfast in their night clothes, but who cares. You sat all together as Laszlo begun narrating about his travel, Andrea almost forgetting to eat as he sat down staring at his dad with shiny eyes like he could disappear any time.

“Andrea, at least the juice” you said and he nodded vehemently in particular after you whispered something to his ear.

“Do you have secrets with me?” Laszlo inquired with a smirk, his messy hair a blessing in such bright day.

“Always had” you said with a smirk and he chuckled softly before standing up and leaving for a moment coming back with some boxes.

He handed his boy one and two to you, while Andrea was busy unwrapping the gift Laszlo moved behind your sitting figure “open the small one first”

You obeyed quietly as the box was clearly hinting it was jewellery, inside you found some white gold and blue sapphires earrings.

“Laszlo, you ..” He shushed you softly “come on, wear them for me, jewellery over night dress, a new fashion from Europe” He joked softly but you obliged his wishes putting them on, Andrea making happy cheering sounds as he found the model train of his dreams. The earrings dropped beautifully on you, framing the new Laszlo loved so much “I knew only a Venus like you could sport them” he said making you blush, he always spoke in a way that made you feel like courting never ended.

“What about this?” You asked about the second box and Laszlo smirked just gesturing you to go on. Inside there was a study for a portrait, your portrait, clearly inspired by the picture Laszlo had with himself of you.

“I met this young painter in Wien, a bit struggling with money but extremely talented as you can see, a craftsman that works with gold, I invited him to come here next month and work on your portrait, he fell in love with your figure already, I already know I will have to guard your safety.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

“Well, we can make him famous then” you said and Laszlo just smiled more as you kissed his lips to thank him for the beautiful gifts, knowing Laszlo he probably had way more hidden in his trucks “I knew you’d say something this kind of sweet”

“Mama, you look beautiful” Andrea called you staring like he was waiting for you to say something and you smiled nodding “yes, now it is the perfect time”

“For what?” Laszlo asked as you took his hand guiding him to the living room.

“Please, take a sit now” you said slowly guiding him to his armchair, the comfort of the familiar place relaxed him, the fresh flowers in the vase, the books laid on the table.

“Andrea has a surprise for you” you said leaning to sit on the arm of the chair looking up a his confused face, but he was unable to let go of that smile creeping on his lips.

“Come inside darling” you called “we are ready”

You took Laszlo’s right hand guiding it on your lap, the curiosity already eating him alive as little Andrea came holding his little violin, still looking extra cute in that night dress that made him resemble some cute baby penguin. He puffed his chest blushing as you gave him a nod of encouragement, Laszlo’s eyes shining to see his son like this and the chemistry you two have.

“I have learned this piece to welcome you back home” he announced as his shaky voice betrayed a bit his nervousness.

He placed the violin carefully onto his shoulder resting his cheek on it, your hands holding Laszlo’s while tapping with you finger to keep the tempo for Andrea. The melody was simple, but quite impressive for such a young player, Laszlo was unable to look away from his son, from the way he relaxed while playing, for the way you clearly helped him to gain the confidence to do this little performance.

He looked up at you as you two shared that look of complicity.

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #the alienist x reader #the alienist fanfic

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

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Under My Skin - Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 3,644

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Summary: Matthew can be a pest but what happens when your ex, Auston Matthews get under his skin.

Notes: So I’m having a sad bitch moment and thought, why not post this. I finally broke down and wrote for this boy. Who knows if it’ll happen again...haha! At any rate hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Matthew first met you over a year ago when you’d moved to Calgary for work. You had just finished your degree and a job opportunity had landed you in the same city where he was playing. You’d been out at the bar with some co-workers and had caught his eye immediately. You were everything that Matthew was looking for in a woman, smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, with a charm that seemed to draw everyone around you in. You were like a magnet and Matthew couldn’t resist your pull.

That first night he’d barely been able to talk to you. You’d been besotted with people left and right, and it seemed as though every time Matthew worked up the courage to speak with you, you would get pulled away. Matthew finally ran into you on the way to the restroom. Like, literally ran into you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Matthew apologized steadying you with a hand on your waist. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary but you weren’t complaining.

“It’s ok I wasn’t paying attention.” You held up your phone in defense. You’d been so distracted by a text, that you really weren’t watching where you were going. “Did you ever have someone text you that you hoped you’d never hear from again?”

It was an interesting introduction to a conversation but then Matthew would take any opportunity he could get to speak to you. “Actually, yes.”

“It’s so annoying, right?”

“Well, there is a way to solve that problem.”

Your eyes held his with rapt attention, and Matthew could tell you were clinging to his every word. It was then that it struck him that he never wanted that look to fade from your face. “How?”

“Come have a drink with me and forgot about whoever it is on that phone.” You smiled. It was a bright, brilliant thing of beauty that Matthew swore could light up the night sky on its darkest days. He was sold right then and there, and with just that simple gesture you had no idea that you’d swooped in and stolen his heart that night.

You forgot about that text message fairly quickly and just settled into an easy conversation with Matthew. The night flew by and before you knew it, your co-workers were calling it a night and you were all heading home. Matthew asked for your number which you gave in hopes that he would call you soon. Little did you know that after you left, Matthew debated with himself on how long to wait to text you. Every unsaid rule in the code of dating said to wait for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before making a move, but Matthew was never one to follow convention. As he lay in bed, he decided to send you a quick message.

Had a great time tonight.

It was short and to the point, and Matthew figured if you answered then he would ask you out again. Unfortunately, for Matthew, he wasn’t the only one texting you as you crawled into bed after taking off all your makeup. You were just getting ready to reply to Matthew when another text came in. It was the fourth of the night from the same person that had messaged you before, Auston Matthews.

You hadn’t spoken to him in months, back when you were in Toronto, and you didn’t plan on speaking to him now, though he seemed to be trying his hardest to get your attention, just as he had been for the last couple of months. Your relationship with Auston had been nothing short of toxic. Oh sure, at first it was all hearts and roses in the beginning. Auston swept you off your feet with that charming smile of his, but then you were young and the flashy NHLer said all the right things, at first.

You weren’t normally one to tumble into bed right after the first date, though that’s what happened with Auston. He made it seem like you were the only one, but after dating him for only four months you’d found out that wasn’t true. Oh, he tried to brush it off, make it seem like he wasn’t cheating. That the panties you’d found lying tucked between the nightstand and the bed were some old fling and not some random hookup he’d brought home. You wanted to believe him and so you let your heart overpower your head and stayed with him until you’d literally walked in on him in bed with another woman. There was no talking his way out of that one.

It was an easy decision to break things off with him, though he kept trying to win you back. You were good for his image and he thought that he could keep you happy while he had some fun on the side. The only thing was you didn’t want him back, even though his friends tried to helped his cause. That’s when you decided to take the job in Calgary. It was an easy decision six months ago. Which is part of the reason it surprised you when he texted tonight. He was in Calgary for a game and wanted to talk. You’d honestly were debating seeing him when you’d run into Matthew.

Matthew, you sighed. His curly hair and shaved sides gave off this bad boy vibe, but as you sat there and talked to him, you’d realized he had to be one of the sweetest men out there. You hadn’t realized at first who he actually was. Auston had turned you off to the NHL scene altogether, so you no longer paid attention to the games, even if hockey was Canada’s major sport. Honestly, you wish you didn’t know he was in the NHL. It was part of the reason you were debating about answering him. Maybe you would just sleep on it and decide in the morning.

Meanwhile, Matthew was having a mild panic attack. He told himself that maybe you lived close to the bar and had already fallen asleep before you got his text, or that you’d turned off your phone the minute you got home. He constantly kept checking his, looking for those three little dots letting him know that you were sending something back. It was torturous.

You laid there all of twenty minutes before you decided that you couldn’t resist the curly-haired man that had captured your attention tonight. Grabbing your phone, you shot off a quick, I did too. You typed and erased it three times, wondering if you should add more before finally pressing the send button. There it was done, if he said something back, you’d go from there. Fifteen seconds later, you knew you were in trouble.

Maybe we could do it again sometime?

Matthew was sweating as he hit send. He’d never been this nervous before about a woman. They either liked him or didn’t, but you, you were different. He knew that from the moment he saw you. It was even more prevalent now after he’d spent most of the night with you.

I’d like that.

Was your simple reply back. One that had Matthew ready to jump up and out of bed with excitement. And so the texting went on for the next ten minutes until he finally ended up calling you. The two of you talked for over an hour, almost as if you’d known each other all your lives, and you completely forgot about the texts from Auston.

Matthew took you out three days later to an exclusive restaurant in the city. This time you told yourself you’d not make the same mistake you’d made with Auston. So, when the night drew to a close, Matthew drove you to your apartment then very properly walked you to the door and only kissed you on the cheek. It wasn’t what you expected. You’d thought he’d go for more, but Matthew wanted to do things right. He knew you were special and he wasn’t going to mess things up by sleeping with you on night one. He was in this for the long run.

That was over a year ago. Sure, it had been difficult at first to give him your complete trust, but Matthew had earned it and over time you knew that although he may be a pest on the ice, he was anything but that in your personal life. Now the two of you shared a home and were on your way to making a life together.

You’d kept your relationship on the down-low, staying off of all forms of social media to keep the wolves at bay. Which meant that no one, including Auston, knew that you and Matthew were dating. That was until he and everyone else saw you in the background of Taryn’s video for Brady’s twenty-first birthday. The picture highlighted Brady but behind him, there was Matthew nibbling on your neck and ear. Fans picked up on it right away, wondering who you were and Matthew decided he was tired of hiding the two of you. A week later he was posting a picture of the two of you holding hands on your way back to Calgary.

That was dozens of posts and months ago. Your life with Matthew was nothing short of amazing, until the Flames played the Leafs. Matthew was in Toronto while you stayed back in Calgary for work. It was an early game and you joined the other wives and significant others in a small little watch party. Drinks were flowing freely, so you really didn’t catch the exchange between Matthew and Auston in warmups.

Matthew was minding his own business as he stretched near the centerline. That’s when Auston started with the little jabs. “Nice little piece of ass you picked up Tkachuk.” Matthew was used to guys talking shit about all kinds of things on the ice, though normally it was about him being a dirty player or how Brady was the better Tkachuk on the ice; all that shit he could handle. He wasn’t used to someone taking stabs at you.

“Shut the fuck up Matthews,” he replied then skated away. If Auston was looking for a fight, he’d get one if he kept up this banter, but not until the game started.

It wasn’t until the end of the first that Auston got a chance to chirp Matthew again. “Tell me, Tkachuk, does (Y/N) still make the same pretty moans…”

“Finish that and you’ll regret it,” Matthew told him. It was the only warning Matthew was going to give. Of course, Matthew knew that you’d dated someone in the hockey world and that he’d been a verifiable asshole. He’d never pressed the issue too much as he was trying to turn that stigma about hockey players around. He never liked Auston, he was always cordial to him in non-ice settings but now that he knew he was the cheating bastard who basically used you; he liked him less.

Play resumed before anything else could happen and Matthew was sure to get in a few good checks in before heading back for the first intermission. When he was back on the ice for the second Auston picked up right where they had left off. “So, you like my sloppy seconds, Tkachuk?” Matthew saw red at the insult, and before he knew what he was doing he dropped his gloves and hit Auston. Inwardly, you cringed at the fight, not wanting to let on to the other girls that you had an idea what the exchange was about. Auston went down easy, with Matthew barely touching him, and so off the penalty box he went, while the Leafs went on the power play. You could see him just sitting there stewing, though you weren’t sure if he was mad at himself for letting Auston get to him or mad at you.

The game ended up tied in the third, and little did you know that Auston took the opportunity to get a few more digs into Matthew. “Does she get as wet for as she did for me, or do you have to work for it?” Johnny had to hold him back from leveling him after that, but Auston didn’t let up. “She was such a fucking slut for me in bed. You know I fucked every hole…” That’s all he got out before going down hard as Matthew planted a right hook to his jaw. But Matthew wasn’t done and went after Auston as he lay on the ice. Matthew was ejected from the game and the Leafs scored on the power play.

There was no interview after the game with Matthew, so you had no idea what he was feeling or how pissed he was. As soon as you got home, you tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything that maybe he never turned his phone back on after the game or maybe they were already on the flight back to Calgary, as the team played at home the following day, but you just weren’t sure. So, you laid in the king-size bed you shared with Matthew, wrapped up in your favorite old t-shirt of his, simply staring up at the ceiling.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you didn’t hear the door open or Matthew dropping his bag like you usually did. It wasn’t until he crept into bed that you finally knew he was home. He was laying on his back, hands behind his head when you finally rolled over letting him know you were awake. You’d thought about what to say to him before falling asleep but waited for him to say something to you. When he didn’t you simply whispered, “If you want me to go I will.”

“Go?” Matthew questioned now rolling on to his side so he could see you. “Why would I want you to leave?”

“I never wanted to be a problem for you, Matthew, especially not with other players.” It was part of the reason you’d never told him that you’d dated Auston, though you should’ve known that Auston couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

You went to say more, but Matthew stopped you. “You’re not the problem (Y/N). You could never be one.” His fingers ran up and down your arms lightly, just caressing your skin. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” His lips found yours then, and you melted into the feel of him, savoring how his body started to relax against you.

“Auston’s an asshole.” Matthew finally said, when the two of you broke apart.

“Do I even want to know what he said?”

“Just shit to get me riled up, and it worked.” Your one hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the knotted muscles there. “I’m not stupid. I realize what probably happened between the two of you. I just don’t like hearing it.”

“We both have pasts, Matthew. We can’t change that, but you’re my future.”

He gave you a real quick peck to your lips. “And you’re mine. At least I don’t have to deal with him for a couple weeks.”

You pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips. “Don’t let him get under your skin, babe. When he starts to say something…” you looked him right in the eyes. “And you know he will. Just remind him how you’re the only one I want with me.” You flexed your hips before running your hands up his bare chest. “And in me.” Matthew’s hands went to your waist, where he played with the band of lace on your panties. “You’re more to me than he’ll ever be. Both here,” you taped your heart and then his. “And here.” Lifting your hips, you took your hand and cupped the length of him. His cock instantly hardened under your touch.

Your words spurred Matthew into action, for the next thing you knew he was ripping your panties, before shimming out of his boxers. His fingers went to your folds, where he found you ready for him. “Fuck you’re so wet.”

“Only for you Matthew. Only for you.” It was extra reassurance that you knew Matthew needed and tonight you’d give him as many as he needed. He guided your hips down onto his cock and you sighed out with pleasure as he filled you like no one else ever had.

As you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt Matthew whispered harshly, “Leave it on.” It was one of his Flames shirts; one that had both his name and number on the back. Leaning down you kissed him long and hard, before starting to ride him. It was slow at first, a pace meant to build you both up but not push you over the edge. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt caressing your breasts, wandering down your back to cup your ass, and moving up and down your thighs to quicken your speed.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he flipped your bodies so that he loomed over top of you. His thrusts were deep and hard, almost punishing if your body hadn’t wanted him so bad. “You belong to me.” He said as he flexed into you, pushing you up against the headboard.

“Yes, baby. Only you.”

“Who?” He asked again and you realized that he was not in the mood to hear any pet names.

“You, Matthew, you,” you answered knowing that he owned you both body and soul, just as you owned him.

“That’s right, baby.” Matthew's thrusts were deep and sure, as he knew what would bring you pleasure, and with a few more flexes of his hips, he sent you spiraling out of control, screaming his name.

“MMMAAATTTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEEWWW.”

That was all he needed to catch his high and follow you down, your name on his lips. He rolled onto his side taking you with him; your breaths mingling together as you both calmed. Your nails skimmed down his spine aimless, something you tended to do after sex. Matthew always said he loved the continued intimacy it brought, and tonight it felt like you both needed that. His lips found yours, the kiss loving and tender. “I love you, (Y/N),” Matthew whispered while brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “And I promise, I won’t let Auston get to me next time.”

“Good, because you’re the only man I love Matthew, and the team doesn’t need you getting ejected from games because of me.”

“It won’t happen again.” You truly hoped that it wouldn’t but with Matthew’s temper you never knew.

It was a little over two weeks later that the Flames were taking on the Leafs, this time at the Saddledome, where you were in attendance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous on the inside as to what would happen between the love of your life and the once lowlife that you'd briefly called boyfriend. You tried to shake off your nerves with idle chatter with some of the girls, but your eyes always seemed to drift back to where Matthew and Auston were on the ice.

Matthew for his part stayed away from center ice for warmups, just like he told you he would. It wasn’t until the second period after a blown whistle that Auston finally decided to poke at him. “How’s that girlfriend Tkachuk? You know if I told her I wanted her back she’d leave you in a second.”

“I doubt that Matthews. She told me you couldn't satisfy her in the bedroom. Something about cumming too soon.” Anger started to radiate across Auston’s face. “You should see a doctor about that.” Matthew skated away, completely ignoring anything Auston would be able to say back.

The game was tied late in the third once again when Auston tried to rile Matthew up again. Considering he had two assists you understood why they wanted your boyfriend out of the game. “It wasn’t me who had the problem Tkachuk, (Y/N)’s pussy was wider than the Grand Canyon.”

“Hmm,” Matthew taunted back. “Must be your small pencil dick, because she’s so tight it’s like a vice-grip around me.” Auston took offense and cross-checked Matthew into the boards right as the play began, earning him two minutes in the penalty box. Matthew laughed at him as the ref took him over. Auston wasn’t there for long, as Matthew scored the game-winning goal forty-some seconds into the penalty. You jumped up out of your seat with the rest of the girls cheering and screaming.

Even though they pulled the goalie, the Leafs couldn’t seem to find the back of the net before the buzzer sounded ending the game. You made your way down to wait outside the tunnel with the rest of the significant others. Most everyone was gone before Matthew finally came out, scooping you up in his arms. “Did you see that baby?”

“I saw Matty,” you told him, kissing him on the lips. “That goal was impressive.”

He finally set you back down on your feet. “No babe, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t let him get to me.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, he can’t get under my skin about you, when I get to be all over yours.” His hands slid under your sweater and inside your jeans to cup your ass. “Speaking of your skin…let’s go home so I can get you out of all these clothes and see you.”

You kissed him, long and languidly, before pulling back. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.” The two of you left the arena hands interlaced just as your bodies would be as soon as you got home.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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pines-troz · 4 years ago

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Those We Hold Dear - Animaniacs/Pinky and The Brain Oneshot

Summary: An introverted Brain finds himself feeling lost during the holiday party on the Warner Movie Lot. He manages to find some respite upon finding a pool table in the abandoned rec room. When Yakko unexpectedly invites himself in, the two engage in some casual conversation, then slowly open themselves up as they talk about their loved ones.

This story includes mild doses of Brinky and Non-Binary Wakko with he/they pronouns.

Word Count: 7,969

TW: Brief mentions of trauma, animal testing, and alcohol

Includes spoilers from the Animaniacs Reboot and references to the Pinky and The Brain spin-off cartoon.

Special thanks to @themurphyzone for beta reading!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714374

Beginning AN: This fic was written because there aren’t enough stories where Pinky and The Brain interact with the Warners, and I feel like there’s so much untapped potential in terms of interesting character dynamics and I wanted to explore that with this story. I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent and very heartwarming fanfic.

As Christmas time drew near, The Warner Brothers movie lot was bustling with the spirit of the holiday season. Studios were dressed in Christmas decorations, and classic Christmas songs played over the speakers. And in the heart of the studio, the WB office was holding a special holiday party for the cast and crew of the Animaniacs reboot. Pinky and the Brain were among the invited guests, and the two mice strolled through the movie lot together as they made their way to the party.

Brain shook his head, still in disbelief that he and Pinky worked as part-time actors, and even more so that they were asked to return for the Animaniacs reboot after the original show had been off the air for over twenty years.

The small mouse remembered back in the early 1990s, when one of his initial plans for world domination involved him and Pinky breaking into the Warner Bros. studio to broadcast his homemade propaganda film. But while they infiltrated the studio, they were spotted by a small group of writers. When Brain explained in earnest that he and Pinky were ‘genetically altered lab mice trying to take over the world’, the writers were so amused and inspired that they brought the lab mice over to meet the studio executives and were hired right on the spot.

While having to act out failed plans to take over the world felt like a slap to the face at times, Brain quickly found the positive aspects of working on a popular television show. He and Pinky worked on set a few days a week (which saved them from having to undergo more painful experiments from the scientists at Acme Labs), they got along well with the other cast, crew, and various workers on the Warner movie lot. The mice also received truck loads of fan mail and fan art from viewers (and they put in the effort to express their gratitude by writing back to as many letters as they could), attended conventions even long after the show went off the air, and were invited to cast parties.

As much as Brain enjoyed seeing Pinky having a ball at the cast parties, he himself admittedly detested large social gatherings. If world domination was at stake, then Brain would be more motivated to be sociable; rubbing elbows with politicians, manipulating powerful individuals to do his bidding, and being one step closer to planetary conquest.

But Brain had no schemes up his sleeve. No ulterior motives, hidden agendas, or feasible plans for world conquest tonight. The mouse had put off all plans to take over the world off the table during the holiday season after having read Pinky’s unsent letter to Santa that fateful Christmas. From that moment on, Brain vowed to ignore his own lofty ambitions during the holidays and to put more focus on making Pinky happy.

The mice made sure to dress appropriately for the holiday party. Brain donned a red sweater and dark green pants. Simple festive colors, but nothing overly garish. Pinky, however, went above and beyond in his party attire, as he wore a green dress with candy cane prints all over and sparkly red shoes. Once they walked past the office doors, they approached the elevator. Brain retrieved his limb-enhancing device and pressed the button, which opened up the doors, and the two mice entered the elevator. Brain used the device again to hit the button for floor nine, and the elevator moved upwards.

“Oh this is going to be so much fun, Brain!” Pinky chirped, flapping his hands with excitement.

“Well if you’re happy, then I’m happy.” Brain affirmed, keeping a calm and orderly demeanor.

Once they reached the right floor, they exited the elevator and approached the large event space where the party was held. As they approached the doorway, they were immediately greeted by Yakko, who wore a red and white striped blazer in addition to his usual brown slacks.

“Hey, Pinky and the Brain!” Yakko greeted as he waved at them. “How are the fan favorites doing?”

“We’re doing well for ourselves, Yakko-” Brain’s response was interrupted when he felt a giant wet smooch on his left cheek. He looked over his left to see Pinky smiling at him. The smaller mouse looked at his roommate with a shocked and irritated expression.

“Pinky!” Brain berated his companion, as his cheeks began to flare up. “I told you, no frivolous displays of affection outside of the lab!”

“Poit! I’m sorry Brain, but, you were standing right under the mistletoe, and I just couldn’t help myself!” Pinky explained with a joyous giggle as Brain wiped off the saliva from the side of his face. The intelligent mouse looked up above only to find that dreaded yuletide plant taped to the doorframe.

“Hey sibs! The power couple just arrived!” Yakko addressed his younger siblings. Brain fumed at the eldest Warner boy, who shrugged and flashed a playful smile back at the mouse.

Dot arrived on cue, followed by Wakko, who greedily shoveled all the contents of the plate of appetizers (and the plate) into their mouth. The younger Warners dressed appropriately for the festive occasion. Wakko wearing an oversized blue sweater with a sequin snowman, and their iconic backwards red cap had elf ears taped to each side. In addition to her pink skirt, Dot wore a white sweater with a colorful Christmas tree and a reindeer antler headband.

“Pinky!” Dot greeted happily, skipping merrily towards the taller mouse. “Oh you look so adorable!”

Pinky jumped for joy as the Warner sister picked him up. “Oh, why thank you Dot. Zort! I actually had a little help from Brain. He used his knit-o-matic machine to put the dress together!”

Dot turned her attention over to Brain, who was still standing beneath her. “Hello Brain! Don’t go thinking that I forgot about you.” She said, giving a couple pats to his large head.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Brain bantered, but lost his guard when the middle Warner sibling scooped him into their hands.

“Oh what joy, Brain is here!” Wakko cheered, lifting Brain up in the air as he twirled around. “I was thinking about going around the movie lot and belching my favorite Christmas carols later tonight. Would you care to join me?”

“A tempting offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” Brain gently rejected.

“Okay, but the offer still stands if you change your mind!” Wakko insisted.

“Very well. Now would you be so kind as to put me down? I’m going to head on over to the refreshments table.” The mouse said.

“Say, I was going to grab some snacks too! And maybe we can eat over at the table together!” Wakko proclaimed, carrying the mouse as he made their way to the refreshments table.

“Well, I would be delighted to keep you company.” Brain answered honestly.

The mouse tried to keep his favoritism hidden, but of all the cast members he worked with, he enjoyed being with the Warners the most. While they may be a nuisance to the humans on the movie lot, they were quite friendly with most of the animal actors on the set. Brain was quite enamored with Yakko’s comedic banter, Wakko’s silliness, and Dot’s wit and charm, and while they playfully teased him on occasions, it was never out of any malice. But the one aspect he enjoyed the most was that they were never judgemental of him or Pinky.

Brain picked up the smallest plate from the stack and started picking out one of each cheese, a deviled egg, the second-to-last pig in a blanket, two baby carrots, and a jumbo shrimp. Wakko swooped in from behind, taking the last the last pig in a blanket and gobbled it up.

Brain looked over at the line of wine glasses and the various wine bottles behind them and figured that he could go for a nice glass of red wine. Despite his short stature, Brain found an easier way to access the alcohol as he spotted Ralph the security guard (who may or may not be off-duty), grabbing a handful of jumbo shrimp.

“Pardon me, Ralph.” Brain addressed the dim-witted security guard.

Ralph turned his head and looked around for a few moments before spotting Brain. “Duh, oh hi Blaine.”

“Actually, it’s Brain.” The small mouse corrected. “Could you do me a small favor and pour me a glass of the pinot noir.”

The security guard looked over at the wine bottles, scratching his head in bewilderment.

“It’s the reddish bottle with the picture of purple grapes on it” Brain curtly explained in layman’s terms

“Oh, uh right!” The imbecilic security guard affirmed. He grabbed the specific bottle and poured a little too much wine into the glass, filling it almost to the top. The mouse did not care that he had an excessive amount of wine. Lord knows that he needs enough alcohol in his system to get through this social gathering.

“Thank you, my good man.” Brain said politely.

“But wait a minute, how are you gonna drink from the glass?” The security guard asked.

“Already accounted for.” Brain reached into his pocket and pulled out a green swirly straw custom made for himself.

Wakko walked over to Brain, carrying two full trays of appetizers. The middle Warner sibling marveled at the swirly straw. “You have great tastes in straws.” He carefully picked up Brain and placed him on top of their red hat. Wakko managed to carry his own plates, Brain’s plate and the wine glass with relative ease as he waltzed over to the table.

“Thank you, Wakko.” Brain said gratefully.

“Your welcome! Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to hear about how I found myself in Paris?” The middle child asked. “I want to tell someone else besides my siblings about all the fun adventures I had.”

“Yes, I would love to hear some amusing anecdotes from your vacation.” Brain replied. The intelligent mouse was well aware that Wakko can be very passionate and talkative when it came to their interests, so he decided to validate the middle child with attentive ears.

Brain listened intently as Wakko continued to talk about their trip. The intelligent mouse felt relieved that he wasn’t the one who had to initiate the conversation. He could simply provide Wakko his undivided attention and listen to them reminisce over their trip to Paris. This was splendid!

“I visited the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, and Notre Dame, but only from the outside.” Wakko said wistfully.

“The fire of Notre Dame was awfully devastating.” Brain added. “Forgive me if this comes off as a boast, but when Pinky and I visited Paris years ago we were fortunate enough to go inside the cathedral and climb the tower.”

“Really!” Wakko exclaimed, who was rather excited by Brain’s vacation story. “Oh, do you have any pictures?”

“Well of course! Just let me just find the vacation album on my phone.” Brain said, as he tried to retrieve his smartphone from his pocket.

“Oh, I forgot to mention how wonderful the crepes were!” Wakko added. “I had strawberry crepes, banana and nutella crepes, some egg and cheese crepes,”

But Wakko’s infodumping came to a crashing halt when Yakko stormed over to the table. “Wakko, did you take the last pig in a blanket?” The Warner brother interrogated.

The middle Warner sibling glanced guiltily towards Brain then back at their sibling. “Maybe?” The eldest Warner still held his suspicious glare at him, until Wakko finally gave in. “Yeah…”

“I knew it!” Yakko declared as he proceeded to put his sibling in a headlock, dragging them away from the table and into the center of the room. Wakko broke free and a battle between the older Warner siblings broke out.

“Oh, this oughta be rich!” Dot devilishly commented. She quickly grabbed her smartphone from her pocket and filmed the action.

Pinky was thrilled by the sudden action and further enabled the sibling rivalry. “Go, go! Give ‘em the ol’ one-two!” The mouse laughed maniacally as he punched the air. “Narf!”

Brain ruefully shook his head at the sibling shenanigans that took place. The small mouse knew better than to get involved, lest he wanted to be squished like a pancake or smacked so hard that he would crash onto the drywall. He found himself all alone again. He finished up his plate of appetizers when he noticed the new CEO, Rita Nortia, taking her place on the other side of the table.

The mouse suddenly felt compelled to speak with her. After all, she did play a significant part in hiring him and Pinky back for the reboot when they could have been cast off like the majority of his fellow cast members from the original show.

“Alright Brain, this is going to be a long party and you have to at least try to be sociable.” He told himself. The mouse then took a considerably long sip of wine to work the courage to speak to his new boss.

“Hello, Ms. Nortia.” Brain addressed, trying his best to sound friendly.

The CEO looked over at the mouse with an indifferent expression. “Wait a minute, I know you, you’re one of the mice playing second fiddle to those pesky Warners….Bran, is it?”

“Actually, it’s The Brain,” The mouse corrected, but suddenly changed his tone as he did not want to come off as bossy in front of his boss. “but I’m perfectly content with being addressed as Brain, if that’s most convenient for you. A-and I wanted to thank you again for including Pinky and myself in the reboot.”

“Sure, sure. You two were one of the more memorable parts of the original show.” Rita Norita replied, sounding rather unenthused. After a moment of awkward silence between the two, the CEO spoke up again. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

Brain was sweating nervously, feeling like a total waste of space. He could tell that she was a busy woman who was more occupied with work-related interests. The mouse tried his hardest to come up with an interesting topic of discussion. The weather? No, too cliche. The hottest Netflix shows? No way. He couldn’t bring up the competition in front of his boss. Those ridiculous Tik Tok videos that Pinky wouldn’t stop blabbering about? If he didn’t understand the appeal of those, what were the chances that the CEO would. The only other thing he could possibly bring up was-

“So, how about those sports?” Brain asked with a nervous smile.

Rita Norita stared blankly at the mouse. “What about them.”

Brain was caught tongue-tied. He didn’t know enough about the current state of any American sports team, so he decided to take a leap of faith and try to discuss the one sport he loved.

“Well, uh, would you be interested in hearing about the beauty and intricacies of rhythmic gymnastics?” Brain asked with a sheepish smile.

As the CEO was about to give another dry response, she was interrupted when a group of sharply dressed business people walked over to her.

“Ms. Norita, we have some very important business information to discuss with you.” One of them said.

“Finally, a riveting topic of discussion.” She exulted, immediately getting up from her seat. She shot a quick glance at the mouse. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I have more pressing matters to tend to.”

The CEO left the table with the other white-collar workers, leaving Brain to his own devices. The mouse propped his head up as he stared into his empty plate of appetizers, desperately trying to forget the mortifying conversation. If dying from embarrassment was possible, then Brain would already be in Heaven surrounded by an angelic choir of Pinkys.

“Hey Brain!”

Upon hearing the cockney accent he was so familiar with, he looked over his shoulder only to find Pinky taking off his dress and diving straight into the punch bowl. Through the clear glass, Pinky was happily swimming underneath the punch for a few moments. Once he broke through the surface, the tall mouse was giggling contentedly and he propped himself up on the side of the bowl to talk to his roommate.

“Oh Brain, you should try this!” The buck-toothed mouse called out. “The water is so refreshing!”

“No thank you, Pinky.” Brain replied, shielding his face from his roommate. He took another peek at the taller mouse. Pinky looked like a complete buffoon, but he looked like he was having the time of his life, swimming in the punch bowl without a care in the world. Brain, on the other hand, felt completely lost and isolated despite being surrounded by a sea of party-goers.

Brain walked away, trying his best to participate in small talk. Things seemed to look up when the Mime arrived.

“I suppose making small talk with someone who can’t talk back is better than not making small talk at all.” Brain pondered.

“You there, Mime!” Brain approached the silent performer. The Mime looked back at Brain and smiled back, giving him a friendly wave. The mouse’s self-esteem was starting to rebound.

“Say, do you want to hear a science joke?” Brain asked. The Mime gave an eager nod in response.

“Okay, well here it goes: One tectonic plate was walking along, bumps into another tectonic plate and said ‘Oops, sorry, my fault!’” Brain began to laugh heartily at his own joke, closing his eyes as he chuckled.

Once his laughter wore off, Brain looked over at the Mime simply shook his head while wearing a confused frown, shaking his head. The mouse assumed that the Mime did not get the joke.

The Brain felt defeated and gave a beleaguered sigh. “Well, I apologize for wasting your time.” The small mouse placed his hands into his pockets and walked off.

The intelligent mouse felt lost. With no plan for world domination to focus on, there was no important reason to mingle with the other guests. He decided to find the Warners and seek companionship from them. But he was disappointed when he witnessed the three keeping Ralph occupied in an intense game of ‘Monkey in the Middle’. The Warners wore mischievous smiles as they threw the security guard’s cap around much to the frustration of the bumbling officer. Brain could not bring himself to join in their merriment. Without his robotic man-suit, he could not possibly bring any meaningful contribution to the fun and would only stick out as a useless fifth wheel.

And he did not have the courage to try to strike up a friendly conversation with the other party-goers. His brief talks with Rita Norita and The Mime were proof that even when he shared his interests and musings to them, they could never reciprocate because they’re not on the same intellectual wavelength as he was.

No, he was only fooling himself. Perhaps the reason why felt high and dry was that he just could not relate to other people.

Brain watched Pinky, now back in his Christmas-themed dress, entertaining a few guests with his spit bubbles. The small group laughed at his ridiculous display. The taller mouse was completely in his element, charming people with his ‘fun-fun silly-willy’ antics. That feeble-minded fool made it look so easy.

“Perhaps Pinky is better off with other people.”

Brain furiously shook his head at the awful thought. “No, no, no. You’re just exhausted from attempting to socialize, that’s all.” He told himself. “Yes. All I need is a break, a place where I could temporarily wind down and recharge my energy before returning to the festivities.”

Brain walked down the hall in search for a place to ponder.

As he wandered down the hallway, he discovered an empty recreation room complete with a billiards table, a dart board, a stack of used board games, and a leather sofa. The pool table was pristine, with the fifteen balls gathered in their triangular shape and the cue ball standing on the other side. Brain decided to take the opportunity to play a game of pool against himself. The mouse picked up an unsharpened pencil from the bureau, climbed up the leg of the pool table and made his way to the top.

The mouse hopped off the wooden edge and onto the green walked baize, the tender felt brushing up against his feet with each step. Once he approached the cue ball, the mouse used the unsharpened end of the pencil and struck the white ball as hard as he could. He was not surprised that the cue ball lightly struck the top third of the fifteen balls ever so slightly.

“This is going to take a while…” Brain muttered to himself. “Fortunately, I don’t have anything better to do.”

The mouse observed the playing field, and noticed a solid red ball lingering near a corner pocket. Charging his pencil against the cue ball much harder this time, he saw the white ball glide down the table, hitting the red ball right into the pocket. Now all he had to do was strike the other solid-color balls into the pockets.

Fifteen minutes had passed since he started his solitary game of pool, and he only had three balls left. Wiping off the beads of sweat from his forehead, he looked over at the clock that was perched above the sofa. The mouse doubted that the other party-goers would be aware of his absence. Maybe Pinky would be too busy mingling with the other guests to even realize that he was gone.

“Some party, huh?”

Brain was startled at the sudden inquiry, his ears perking upwards. He turned around only to find Yakko Warner leaning against the doorway.

“Yakko….” The mouse grumbled. He feared that the boy would continue teasing him by bringing up the incident under the mistletoe. “Shouldn’t you be off terrorizing a certain psychiatrist?”

“Oh, you mean Dr. Scratchinsniff? He won’t be dropping by until around seven.” The eldest Warner sibling explained as he waltzed into the room. “So what are you doing here all by your lonesome?”

“As a reserved and introverted soul, social gatherings aren’t my cup of tea.” Brain confessed. “If world domination was on the line, then I would be more involved. But being forced to make idle prattle with co-workers in a secluded space can be quite tiresome.”

“I gotcha.” Yakko nodded, seeming to understand Brain’s plight.

“And how did someone as sociable as yourself wander astray from the festivities?” Brain inquired.

“I had to use the john.” Yakko answered frankly, pointing his thumb towards the door. “I was going to return to the party, but I heard the sound of a pool game going on and just had to investigate.”

“Excellent detective work, Hercule Yakko.” Brain remarked, to which Yakko chuckled in response.

“Say, can I join in?” The eldest Warner asked as he walked over to the racks. “It’s been a while since I played pool and you look like you could use a little company.”

“The more the merrier.” Brain dryly responded as he struck the cue ball with his pencil.

Yakko found a suitable cue stick and walked over beside Brain. He observed the pool table, noting the striped balls outnumbered the solid balls.

“So I’ll be aiming for the striped ones then?” Yakko asked.

“Correct.” Brain responded defeatedly. While he wished to finish up his solo game, he didn’t have it in him to tell the eldest Warner to leave.

Yakko carefully aimed his cue rack at the cue ball and fired away. He managed to hit two striped balls straight into the pocket. He then made another successful shot and hit two more striped balls into the opposite pocket. Feeling confident and theatrical, Yakko turned around and managed to hit another striped ball into a pocket without looking. He looked over at the playing field and back at The Brain. “Well, you got trouble my friend.” He quipped.

Brain looked up at Yakko for a moment before looking back at the pool with a grimace. After a moment of awkward silence, the eldest Warner spoke up again “Get it? Because we’re playing pool and I was referring to-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen The Music Man before Yakko, there’s no need to explain the joke.” Brain interrupted.

“So was the joke not funny?” Yakko asked with a twinge of worry.

“The joke was perfectly fine.” Brain assured upon noticing the boy’s sudden anxiousness. “I’m simply frustrated with my current state in the game and fear that the outcome won’t be in my favor.”

“Oh, is it because you’re a mouse? I can try to make some accommodations so that we’re playing on even grounds.” Yakko kindly suggested.

“No, no. The last thing I want is to be patronized and pitied.” Brain snapped, sounding more harsh than he intended.

Yakko backed off upon seeing the mouse’s frustration.“Okay, whatever floats your boat.” He replied defensively.

Brain’s face softened a bit, feeling guilty that he was a bit too hard on the boy. “If it’s any consolation, I have problems with my joke deliveries as well.” Brain lamented. “I tried telling The Mime a science joke earlier, but it fell flat.”

“Which one?” Yakko queried out of curiosity.

Brain fought his insecurities and mustered up the courage to tell the joke again. “One tectonic plate was walking around, he bumps into another tectonic plate and said-”

“‘Oops, I’m sorry, my fault’!” Yakko enthusiastically joined in as the punchline was delivered. The boy clapped his hands and started chuckling. “Ah, natural disaster humor.”

Brain softly smiled. Yakko missed this time around and Brain hopped back on the table, figuring out the best course of action to keep up with Yakko’s pool playing. After a couple minutes of playing in companionable silence, the intelligent mouse decided to throw an ice-breaker question to liven the mood.

“So Yakko, how have you and your siblings been doing lately?” The Brain asked in earnest.

“We’ve been doing swell!” Yakko answered in a chipper tone. “I mean, sure, we had our fair of challenges adapting to the current trends after being frozen in suspended animation for twenty-two years, but what can ya do?”

Brain looked a little concerned at the boy. The last time he and Pinky saw the Warners was in 1998, when they attended a cast party after filming of Wakko’s Wish had wrapped. During those years, Brain was consumed with his contributions to the age of the internet while Pinky attended his therapy sessions. All that time spent focusing on his world domination scheme and he forgot about his fellow cast members and all the good times they shared together. When Brain and Pinky received the fateful phone call from Warner Brothers that they and the Warners would be the only returning cast members for the Animaniacs reboot, he was worried that they would be mad at him for not keeping in touch. But when they arrived on set, the Warners were simply happy to see them again. But the Brain lost his train of thought when he heard Yakko speak up again.

“Not to mention the staggering amount of pop culture we’ve missed out on.” Yakko added. “Hey, did you know that there were two movie adaptations of How The Grinch Stole Christmas within the span of two decades?”

“Oh I’m well aware of that. Pinky actually dragged me to see both movies in the theaters.” Brain recalled. “And as you would expect, the feeble-minded fool thought they were cinematic masterpieces.”

“Outside of trying to stay relevant, we’ve been doing some fun sibling projects on the side, like this sculpture of Giuseppe Acrimboldo made entirely out of fruit!” Yakko happily reminisced.

“You mean, the famous sixteenth century Italian mannerist portrait artist Giuseppe Acrimboldo?” Brain inquired enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I managed to get a picture before that awful bun infestation got to him.” Yakko grabbed his phone and showed a picture of their sculpture.

“That’s quite impressive.” Brain marveled. While the mouse was not present during the awful bun infestation, he had heard stories of the incident from his co-workers. He could only imagine Pinky having a field day with the mass quantities of bunnies.

“I even had a whole song written about him too!” Yakko added.

“Well, I’m always eager to hear another one of your classic educational ditties, Yakko.” Brain encouraged. “I’m all ears.”

“I would if I could, but I forgot the majority of the lyrics.” Yakko forlornly replied. He picked up his cue rack and strategically planned his next move.

“Oh..” Bran uttered. The mouse tried to find another topic to bring up, but couldn’t help but think about the Warner siblings being locked away from the world for the second time. The mouse tried to bring up the topic as delicately as he could.

“Forgive me for prying, but can I ask you a question concerning your 22 year absence.” Brain carefully inquired.

“Sure!” Yakko acknowledged as he struck the cue ball, hitting the eight ball into the pocket and winning the game.

“Do you recall anything during your hibernation?” The mouse questioned.

“No, not really. The only thing I could remember was what happened before. After Wakko’s Wish wrapped, some studio bigwigs came up to me and my sibs. We were given the choice to either be cryogenically frozen or to be locked in the tower again. After thinking it over, I decided that being frozen in suspended animation was the better option. And the process wasn’t all that bad. It was like taking a really long nap.” Yakko answered truthfully. “And let me tell you, being frozen was a walk in the park compared to being trapped in the water tower for over sixty years.”

Brain’s ears drooped when he heard the sadness laced in Yakko’s voice.

“I love my sibs and would risk my life for them, but it was really hard having to watch over them without any assistance from the adults for decades.” The boy confessed. “I mean, I managed to get by just fine, but it was neither a bed or roses nor a pleasure cruise. During those years I had to come up with different ways to entertain my sibs and keep them occupied. I didn’t want them to start thinking about whether or not people missed them or were even aware that they’ve been cooped up for so long. One could say being trapped in that tower felt like-”

“Being an animal in a cage.” Brain quietly finished, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the boy.

Yakko stared at the mouse, amazed by how understanding he was of his past trauma. “Well, yeah…”

The Brain drew in a long breath and exhaled. “Believe it or not, I understand where you’re coming from.” He confessed, sitting on the edge of the pool table and holding the pencil in his arms.

The mouse could not believe what he was doing. In any other circumstance, Brain would never open up to his co-workers about his feelings or the past traumas he endured. Opening up meant being vulnerable. Being vulnerable meant feeling helpless and without control. He gripped the pencil tightly at the thought of not being completely in charge of himself. But Brain fought against his need to put up defensive barriers and decided to reveal his miserable and pitiful past if it meant providing the boy with some sense of solidarity.

“I was once a young field mouse who lived a carefree and happy existence with my parents out in the wild.” Brain reminisced. “But I was separated from my family at a tender age when a group of Acme Lab scientists abducted me from my tin-can home. From that day forward, I was imprisoned in the laboratory where I was subjected to cruel, emotionally-scarring experiments and used as fodder in the name of science and human curiosity.” His voice trembled as he exposed his past to the eldest Warner, but he soldiered on.

“The first friend I ever made was a hamster named Snowball, but when we went through the gene splicer, it had different effects on us. I gained advanced intelligence, while Snowball went mad with power, and we had a terrible falling out. But when it seemed that I was doomed to live the rest of my days isolated in the lab…” Brain paused for a moment and then continued. “But one day, a new lab mouse brought over to live with me in my cage. It was at that moment that Pinky entered into my life and...well, the rest is history.” He explained with a sad smile.

Yakko listened in with sympathetic ears. He never thought that anyone could relate to the pain of having his freedom stripped away and being locked against his will. But he also admired the mouse’s courage to tell his story anyways.

“Pinky really was my saving grace.” Brain admitted, aware of the affection in his tone. “His presence made being stuck in the lab more bearable. Sure, he may be imbecilic and dim-witted, but he’s also loyal, compassionate, and the best friend I could ever ask for.” After praising Pinky’s positive aspects, Brain’s smile slowly faded. “But sometimes I wonder why Pinky would want to be my friend, and other times where I feel like I don’t deserve to be his friend.”

“Well, how come?” Yakko cautiously inquired.

“Years ago, I promised Pinky that if I ruled the world, I would make it into a better place. A kinder place for social outcasts and marginalized individuals like him. But after so many years of trying and putting in the work, my destiny is still far from reach. And yet, he’s still standing by my side. It’s just...I don’t know what Pinky sees in me.” Brain sadly explained as he cradled the pencil in his arms. “Perhaps he’s much better off without me…” He sighed, letting the awful confession escape his lips.

Yakko sadly frowned at the downtrodden mouse, but he quickly knew how to cheer him up. “Oh I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Well why not?” The mouse somberly asked.

“Maybe the reason why Pinky is attached to the hip is because he loves you.” Yakko suggested.

“Perhaps he does. His unquestioning loyalty to me is proof of that.” Brain pondered aloud.

“...and that you love him back.” Yakko added with a sly smile.

“What?” Brain cried out, sharply turning his head to face Yakko. “That’s preposterous! I don’t love Pinky, I merely….tolerate him.”

“Uh huh,” Yakko nodded, not buying his co-worker’s fib. “I guess your toleration must be pretty strong then.”

Yakko placed the cue stick on the side of the pool and walked over towards the mouse.“I mean, who else would sacrifice their chance at world domination on Christmas, go to the depths of h-e-double hockey sticks to save the guy after he sold his soul so you could rule the world, reunite him with his entire family after years of separation, save him from quicksand by embracing your wild side, teach him about the Constitution and upholding the values that make up our country’s democracy, and tend to his aid after the poor guy got pulverized by some crummy humans.” The eldest Warner detailed as he counted all of Brain’s deeds on each finger. Brain’s ears drooped as he heard him recall all of his past heroics when it came to helping the friend he loved so dearly.

“That’s going above and beyond for someone you merely tolerate, don’t you think?” Yakko concluded.

“W-who told you all that?” Brain blurted in disbelief.

“Pinky did.” Yakko answered honestly. “Why, just a few minutes after you left, Pinky started talking about all the great and amazing things you did for him. If you don’t believe me, the proof is in the pudding.” He fished out his phone from his pocket and showed Brain a video, with Pinky’s gleaming smile on the thumbnail. Yakko pressed play.

Pinky was gathered around a few of the party guests on the couch. Wakko and Dot sat closely by his left, and Jay Pac Le East Tha Rapper by his right.

“Poit! And when it came down to choosing the world or me, Brain chose me and decided to compete in rhythmic gymnastics to save my soul!” Pinky explained enthusiastically to his enchanted audience. “Oh you should have seen Brain! He looked so stunning in his marvelous blue spandex, prancing about oh so gracefully with his string-on-a-stick, and he scored a perfect ten! But that awful, no-good Mr. Itch cheated by rigging the competition in his favor and it seemed like Brain and I were doomed to be separated forever!”

Wakko and Dot gasped in shock and instinctively grabbed onto each other for comfort. Even Jay Pac was deeply invested in the story.

“But it turned out that he didn’t deliver on his original promise to give me my radish rose whatchamawhozit, so I was able to be with Brain again!” Pinky happily concluded.

Wakko stood up and applauded. “Oh how I love a happy ending!”

“Wow, my respect for Brain just went through the roof.” Jay Pac commented.

“You know, I never realized how cool Brain was until just now.” Dot admitted.

“He sure is!” Pinky gushed. “Brain is smart, he never gives up on his dreams, he wants what’s best for the world, and he’s the best friend I could ever ask for. Zort! I love him so much, and I know that he loves me too!”

“Pinky, can you tell us another story about The Brain?” Wakko asked enthusiastically, like a child wanting to hear another bedtime story.

“Pretty please, Pinky!!” Dot begged, giving her cutest pout and fluttering her puppy-dog eyes.

“Of course!” Pinky answered gleefully as he leapt up in the air and landed back on the couch. “Oh! I should tell you all about the time he helped me reunite with my mum, my dad, and my sis!”

As the video ended, tears started to pool in Brain’s eyes. He roughly scrubbed them away before they could fall, not allowing himself to become more vulnerable than he already felt. “Perhaps I don’t just tolerate him. Dare I say, I even like Pinky.” Brain half-confessed. He knew that he loved Pinky dearly, but he would never bring himself to verbalize his feelings.

“Actions speak louder than words, buddy.” Yakko retorted. “But I totally get where you’re comin’ from, though. Wakko and Dot mean the world to me.”

“Even though you wrestled your own sibling over something as petty as taking the last of your favorite appetizer?” Brain mentioned sardonically.

“Alright, so I have a problem managing my Cain instinct, guilty as charged.” Yakko answered.

“Sure, we drive each other bonkers sometimes, but at the end of the day, they’re still my sibs and I love them more than they could even know.” The boy smiled as he talked about his dearest siblings.

“But I still can’t help but wonder, what might happen in the future, after the reboot.” Yakko pondered with concern. “What if Wakko and Dot decide to go out in the world and do their own thing? Would they still need me? Would they want me around? And I don’t know how I’d do without ‘em because they’re the only family I’ve got.”

Brain felt his heart go out to Yakko. While the boy can be a nuisance and a smart alec, there was a lot of good in him. But he could also understand the boy’s fears. Yakko was as strongly attached to his siblings and his whole life revolved maintaining that relationship. The mouse pondered to himself until he found the best way to alleviate the boy’s worries.

The small mouse walked over to the eldest Warner brother and gently placed his hand on top of his. “Well, there may come a time when the three of you will go your separate ways and lead independent lives, but no matter how far apart you are, you’ll always maintain that strong familial bond.”

Yakko gave Brain an intrigued look. “What makes you so sure?”

“Pinky and I raised a son together.” Brain answered with a small smile.

“Since when?” Yakko asked with a baffled look on his face.

“It happened back in the late 90s. Roman Numeral One, or Romy for short. I initially planned to make a clone of myself and use him for global conquest, but one of Pinky’s errant toenails was muddled in with my DNA sample, thus creating a clone that modeled after the two of us.” Brain explained, still smiling as he reminisced. “Once Romy reached the age of reason, he departed from the lab and moved on to make a life for himself. Fortunately, Pinky and I are still on good terms with our son, and we would call him every now and again, just to see how he’s doing. And even though our boy is out in the world pursuing his own dreams, we still love him dearly and learned to maintain our familial bond despite the long distance between us.”

“So whatever happens in the future, I’m certain that you and your siblings will still be as thick as thieves.” Brain assured, giving the eldest Warner sibling reassuring pats on his hand. Yakko smiled back at the mouse’s kind gesture.

“But if you’re still uncertain about the future, I’ll guarantee this to you,” Brain added. “If I become the ruler of- no, no. When I become the ruler of the world, my palace doors will always be open for you and your siblings. And if any of you ever feel lost or lonely, Pinky and I will be more than willing to grant you companionship.” Brain offered his small hand out to the boy.

Yakko was eager with the proposition. “Well Brain, I was already rooting for you to take over the world, but now I’m twice as invested! You got yourself a deal!” The eldest Warner enthusiastically shook the mouse’s hand. The Brain gave a hearty chuckle, amazed at the boy’s excitement and encouragement.

“And Brain,” Yakko looked at the small mouse. “I’m really glad we had this talk...and thanks for everything.”

Brain could tell that Yakko rarely opened up about his personal issues and musings to others, so not to trouble them or cause concern. But he could tell just how grateful the boy was for understanding and providing him with the comfort he needed.

“You’re welcome, Yakko.” Brain quietly replied.

“Well, I think that’s enough emotionally heavy conversations for one night.” Yakko commented, trying to sound as laid-back as possible.

“Agreed. You know, I think I’m ready to return to the party and make a more admirable attempt at socializing.” Brain said with confidence.

“That’s the spirit!” Yakko praised, giving him a thumbs up.

As Brain and Yakko were putting away the billiards equipment, they heard three sets of footsteps approaching the rec room. Sure enough, it was Pinky, followed by Wakko and Dot.

“Oh, there you two are! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed.

“So this is where you two have been.” Dot addressed her brother and the mouse.

“Yep, just us guys playing some pool.” Yakko answered half-honestly as he gestured towards his smaller companion. “You could say that we were getting along swimmingly.”

Upon hearing the dad joke, Wakko and Dot retrieved their pun guns and shot their older brother on sight. Brain saw the yellow lasers fly through the room and hit Yakko, causing him to fall over on impact. The mouse looked on with concern.

“I’m fine.” Yakko assured The Brain despite the obvious pain he was in.

Brain returned his attention to his roommate and the other Warner siblings. “So what shenanigans have you three rascals been up to during our absence?” He inquired.

“We gained access to the CEO’s movie screening room!” Dot answered.

“There’s a big screen tv, a comfy leather couch, a snack bar, and everything!” Wakko added enthusiastically.

“Good work sibs!” Yakko complimented as he got back up on his feet.

“Troz! And now that we found you two, we can all go there and watch The Grinch together!” Pinky joyfully declared.

“Which one?” Yakko and The Brain asked in unison, knowing that there were multiple adaptations of the classic story and both secretly hoping that it was the 1966 animated special.

“The animated one, of course!” Pinky cheerfully replied.

“You need to be more specific, Pinky.” Brain added, praying that his friend was referring to the classic television special as opposed to the bland Illumination movie.

“Oh, it’s the one with the Boris Karloff narration and the lovely songs!” Pinky gushed as he hugged himself.

“Thank Heavens.” Brain replied, relieved that his roommate was referring to the former. “We would be delighted to accompany you three, right Yakko?”

“Oh absolutely!” Yakko replied. He carefully picked up Brain and placed him in the palm of his left hand before walking over to the others. He then knelt down and offered Pinky a ride on his right hand, to which he happily accepted.

As Yakko followed his younger siblings to the private theater, he joined his hands together, bridging the divide between the two laboratory mice. Pinky immediately leapt over to Brain, enveloping him in a warm and welcoming hug. Brain decided not to recoil from Pinky’s affection and accepted the embrace.

“Oh it’s good to see you again Brain!” Pinky exclaimed. “I missed you so much since you left, and I was getting worried that I was never going to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Pinky.” Brain kindly remarked. “I just needed to recharge after socializing. You know that I would never abandon my best friend in the whole world, right?”

“Your best friend? Where?” Pinky shouted worriedly as he looked over each shoulder.

Brain rolled his eyes at his friend’s stupidity. “It’s you, Pinky. In addition to being my roommate and my assistant, you’re my best friend in the whole world.”

“Naarf.” Pinky awed, his eyes glistening with wonder. Overwhelmed with joy, the taller mouse decided to give his intelligent roommate an extra squeeze. “Well what a coincidence! It just so happens that you’re my best friend in the whole world, Brain!”

“I know, Pinky.” Brain muttered as he patted the taller mouse’s back. “I know.”

Unbeknownst to both mice, the Warners smiled warmly as they witnessed the sweet exchange.

The Warners and the lab mice entered the private theater. Dot retrieved Pinky and the two went over to the couch, where she placed a pillow over her lap, giving Pinky a place to sit. Brain managed to get the Blu-Ray player running as Wakko grabbed a stockpile of snacks. Yakko turned off the lights to provide a more theatrical experience. Yakko carefully held Brain as he plopped down on the couch, sitting between his younger siblings. Yakko moved his hand over to Dot, who gently held Brain before placing him on the pillow alongside Pinky.

As the Christmas special started, Pinky scooted over to Brain to sit closer to him. Feeling Pinky’s presence and taking into account that they were nearly enveloped in darkness, Brain lifted himself and placed a gentle kiss on Pinky’s cheek. After settling himself back down, he carefully wrapped his arm around his roommate’s waist and pulled him closer. The taller mouse was taken aback by his roommate’s actions. Pinky stared at his best friend, who lovingly gazed at him with a soft smile. Brain couldn’t verbalize the love he held for Pinky, but he hoped his kind physical gestures spoke a thousand words. Pinky beamed at Brain in response and wrapped his arm around him. The two mice continued to gaze into each other’s eyes for a few moments longer before returning their attention to the television.

Additional AN: Looking back on Animaniacs and the Pinky and the Brain spin-off as a person in her late-twenties, I’ve become fully aware of how both The Brain and Yakko deeply care about their loved ones to the point where they’re scared of the thought of being separated from them or seeing them hurt in any way.

Yakko is so attached to Wakko and Dot, pretty much raised them at the tender age of 14, so I feel like he would have this lingering fear of being alone. Whether he’s separated from them or has the idea that they wouldn’t need him anymore. The reboot establishes Yakko’s insecurities of caring about what other people think and that he may not be as funny as he presents himself to be. I found this to be a fascinating aspect of his character, and I wanted to play around with that in the fic.

The Brain, on the other hand, loves Pinky. Even if he can’t bring himself to admit it due to how emotionally constipated he is, his actions speak for him. Brain reading Pinky’s letter to Santa and being so moved that Pinky thinks so highly of him and is so supportive of him that he backs out of taking over the world even though he had the whole world under his command, The Brain literally going to hades to bring Pinky back because being the ruler of the world isn’t the same without him, Brain going out of his way to reunite Pinky with his family (even if it was for a scheme) and even using the gene splicer on them so they could understand each other, and Brain tending to Pinky’s aid when he’s beaten up by humans for being a mouse and changing his motives of world conquest to make the world and better and kinder place for Pinky and others who feel small. The reboot also has more moments where Brain chooses Pinky over a future version of himself, rescuing Pinky from being enslaved by a power-hungry toddler, and even trying to comfort him the best he could after his monster wife ran off with the other monster and the two of them perished upon falling down. There are also a lot of great hints of a slow-burn romance between the two, but I’m getting ahead of myself there.

The biggest challenge I had writing this story that followed the lore of the characters. One headcanon I played around with is that Pinky and the Brain work as part-time actors and that the majority of the skits (especially the history-based ones) were made for the show, while the events that took place in Pinky and the Brain spin-off and certain episodes from the reboot (Of Mice and Memes,Future Brain, and Roadent Trip) actually occurred in the show’s universe.

Also there are aspects of the reboot that I purposefully left out, such as Brain being super evil and Pinky being a passive enabler(*cough cough* episodes 3 and 8 *cough cough*) and Pinky having daddy issues since they conflict with their established characterizations from the PATB spin-off.

I also wanted to provide some sort of explanation as to what the Warners were up to during the past 22 years. So I figured that having them frozen in suspended animation was the more logical choice. I also came up with the idea that they had to choose between staying frozen or being locked in the water tower again for added drama.

Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this story. It’s been a long time since I last publicly published fanfiction since there was a lot going on in my personal life and I was too busy and I didn’t feel entirely motivated to write. But upon rewatching old episodes of Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs, and watching season one of the Animaniacs reboot has reawakened my creative muse and motivated me to write, and I do plan on writing more stories centered around these characters.

Please leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #fanfiction #brain #yakko warner #pinky #wakko warner #dot warner #brinky #a!spoilers #christmas

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smooshjames · 4 years ago

Text

Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

#courtney miller x reader #courtney miller #shayne topp #damien haas #matt raub #sarah whittle #keith leak jr #noah grossman #smosh #eliza.txt #inspired by my very real desire to play smash bros with the squad

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years ago

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Jij Verliest - Chapter Eight: Clips 3&4

master list

...

note: decided to drop two clips today because one was just texts; also as much as I want to italicize the texts, I’m not going to because Tumblr never gets all of them :/

also, mild spoilers for the the first part of Pokémon Sword and Shield

...

Maandag 14:11

Broerrrs + Luc

20 July, 14:11

Robbe: What are you guys doing on Wednesday?

Jens: Uh, I’m working that night. But not until like 19:00.

Lucas: I’m working that morning.

Jens: Really?

Lucas: Yeah.

Aaron: I don’t have to work.

Moyo: Me either.

Jens: Lucky you.

Lucas: Why?

Robbe: Because Sander wants to meet you guys. And he gets off at 16:00 on Wednesday.

Jens: Wait really?

Robbe: Yeah. Do you have a problem with it?

Jens: What? No, of course not. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Especially after everything that happened.

Robbe: I know, but I want him to meet you guys. Officially. As my boyfriend.

Aaron: Awww, Robbe has a boyfriend.

Robbe: I’ve said he’s my boyfriend multiple times.

Lucas: Yeah, he literally won’t shut up about it.

Robbe: I’m sorry. How many times do you talk about Jens?

Lucas: :)

Aaron: I know, but it’s still new and I’m allowed to be excited.

Moyo: That’s true. We’re excited. And Wednesday sounds good to me. Noor and I are going out tonight.

Jens: Have fun! Wednesday sounds good to me too. Am I going to like him still after everything?

Lucas: Yes.

Jens: Oh really?

Lucas: One look at how he makes Robbe happy and you’ll like him again.

Robbe: I didn’t realize you stopped.

Lucas: He didn’t. He just says that he does. He’s gotta be all macho and protective.

Jens: You like me when I’m macho and protective.

Aaron: VDS at it again.

Moyo: You’re still in the group chat?

Jens: And? I can flirt with my boyfriend when I want to. Even in the group chat.

Robbe: I’m screenshotting that.

Aaron: What for?

Robbe: For when we eventually add Sander to this chat. And Jens tells me not to flirt with my boyfriend. I have proof that I can flirt in the group chat.

Jens: Are we adding Sander to the group chat? We haven’t even met him officially yet. And we never added Thomas to it.

Robbe: I know, but I have a feeling about this one. Plus, I know you guys already like him anyways. Especially Aaron.

Aaron: That’s true.

Jens: In love Robbe is my favorite Robbe.

Moyo: Yeah.

Lucas: Agreed.

Robbe: Thanks guys.

…

Dinsdag 19:25

It had been on Robbe’s mind for awhile—days, weeks even. It was time for something different.

At least for Tuesday.

Tonight, Sander was going over to Britt’s parents’ house. It had been an unexpected and last-minute invite from her parents and Sander was asked to come. Britt had messaged Robbe about it, asking if it was okay, and Robbe had said that it was. It still felt a little weird—as weird as his boyfriend pretending to be dating his ex-girlfriend could be—but that wasn’t why Robbe was upset. But, Robbe didn’t even know if ‘upset’ was the word he should be using… Disappointed? Maybe.

It wasn't about Sander going over to Britt’s. It was Sander going over to Britt’s tonight.

Changing up his streams had been on Robbe’s mind for a few weeks and yesterday afternoon, after playing numerous matches that were just like all the others, he finally decided that he wanted to do it. At least for one day. When Britt had asked—followed shortly by Sander’s call—he thought of pushing the change off until later but, at the same time, Robbe didn’t want to.

Since that Friday night, Robbe had been itching to play Pokémon Sword and Shield, the newest generation in the franchise. With their buzzed and love-drunk minds, they hadn’t really gotten very far into the game. Every once in a while, they would pause to kiss and it would end up a little more handsy than originally planned. Once they managed to pull themselves away, they would barely make any progress before they would tumble back against the bed, kissing each other.

So Robbe went out and bought a Nintendo Switch after his Monday night stream. Because Sander had a copy of Pokémon Shield—he remembered the opening title scene quite vividly—Robbe chose the opposite version before looking through to see what other games were compatible with the console. Once he got his new purchase home, he spent the majority of the evening setting it up with the help of YouTube videos. Zoë had brought him a plateful of spaghetti as he was knee-deep in cords.

Once he woke up on Tuesday morning, Robbe put the finishing touches to make sure that everything would run smoothly—or as smoothly as it could without going live. Even though Robbe had informed them that he was going to do something different, his nerves were still running high, bouncing in his chest. For years, Fortnite had been the only thing that Robbe streamed. So the bulk of his audience would expect Fortnite from him.

Before he started the stream, his phone vibrated loudly against the desk, pulling his gaze from the computer in front of him.

Sander: Have a good stream, baby. I’m hoping to catch the end. If not, I’ll watch it before bed.

A flood of warmth shot through Robbe and soothed all of the erratic nerves in his chest. Unconsciously adjusting his headphones, Robbe typed out a quick message.

Robbe: Have a good dinner. Text me when you get home.

Sander: I will <3

Once Robbe placed his phone to the side, glancing at Sander’s framed sketch, he started the stream. Even though he was still nervous, it was all for nothing. To his surprise, a majority of his regular audience were excited to see him play through Sword for the first time. On the other hand, there were still a handful of people who weren’t excited. Before they left the chat, they made passive aggressive comments about going to watch a Fortnite streamer, and the comments stung a little. Thankfully, the majority of his audience encouraged him and he started the game with little fuss.

On that Friday evening with Sander, they had chosen the water-type starter, Sobble. While Robbe thought that the anxious salamander (or chameleon?) was adorable, he ended up choosing the Scorbunny this time around, which he named Flint. The white bunny with a bandage on his nose had interested him. Plus, if he and Sander were going to continue with Sobble, he wanted to do something different with this one. Once he hit the first route of the game, Robbe caught a Rookidee, which he named Alloy. It was a small bird that looked angry but would eventually evolve into a Corviknight.

When Robbe finally reached the Wild Area, the vast area between cities—and, he learned, Pokémon’s first step into an open world—Robbe paused to consider getting the online services to connect with his viewers who had Pokémon. After a few minutes, he decided to wait until later in the game before he got the online services. Plus, he wanted to look into the other games on the Switch so he could do what they were temporarily dubbing “Nintendo Tuesday.”

As Robbe prepared to enter the Opening Ceremonies for the first time, his phone vibrated against the desk, drawing his attention. Rebel, Rebel played again as Sander’s text message popped up on the screen.

Sander: Baby, buzz me in.

Pulling down his headphones, he barely could make out the buzzer in the hallway. It was still going—which meant that no one else was home. “Umm,” Robbe said, placing his controller on the desk. His character was mid-conversation with a stadium worker and his chat was moving very quickly. “Sorry, I’m going to take my five-minute break now.”

Muting his microphone and placing his headphones on the desk, Robbe shot out of his bedroom door and hit the buzzer on the front door. It only took nearly a full minute for Sander to arrive at the front door, knocking lightly, and Robbe opened it impatiently to find him there on his doormat. Sander was dressed in a long-sleeve black button-up with a pair of skinny jeans. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat.

As soon as the door opened, Sander stepped into the apartment and kissed him hurriedly. His skin was hot to the touch—and a little sweaty–but Robbe didn’t mind, bringing him closer against him. Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe’s waist before pulling back. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Robbe said, beaming.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your stream,” he said. “I just really wanted to see you.”

“Is everything okay?” Robbe asked.

“Yeah,” Sander said, squeezing his waist. “Everything is fine. While we were at dinner, her parents asked us if we were really dating because we never kissed in front of them. When her father tried to force us to kiss to prove that we weren’t faking it, Britt exploded. She got into a fight with her dad and I could only watch with her mom as they fought. In the end, she came out to her parents.”

Robbe felt his eyes grow wide, pulling back. “What?”

Sander nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you before because she wasn’t ready yet. But when I took her to my apartment and was going to come over here, she let me know that I could tell you. She’s been in a relationship with her girlfriend for six months. Her parents were always a little overbearing and controlling in her life and tonight was the last straw. She packed a bag and she’s staying in Noor’s bedroom until she figures out what to do.”

“Wow,” Robbe said. “I’m so sorry.”

Sander shrugged with a sad look on his face. “It’s been a long time coming. Since she’s found out, she’s been a ticking time bomb with her parents. They always talked about her being with a good guy—even when she was with me, both real and fake—and she internalized all of it. Every time, she got a little closer until it was too much.”

Robbe nodded. He understood that feeling. In high school, he exploded at the Broerrrs. He had been going through so much—his mother in the hospital and his repressed feelings that he refused to acknowledge to even himself—until one day it was too much. Thankfully, he had Milan and Zoë to help him. The Broerrrs forgave his explosion and changed when they realized how much Robbe was hurt by their words. Avoiding Sander’s gaze, he mumbled, “I know what it’s like… to explode.”

Sander nodded, pressing a kiss to Robbe’s forehead. For a second, they simply rocked in the silence of the foyer. Soon, Sander ducked his head down to press a kiss against Robbe’s lips and he arched against Sander’s chest. Robbe stood on his toes, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck, and kissed him back. Sander wrapped his arms tighter around Robbe, bringing him flush against his chest, as he dug his fingers into his hair.

Pulling back, Sander kissed his nose. “You better get back to your stream. I just really wanted to see you.”

“They can wait a little more,” Robbe said.

“Yeah, but you don’t want to keep them waiting forever,” Sander said grinning. Placing one more kiss on his lips, he moved back to the front door. As Sander reached to open the door and step outside, Robbe tugged him back against him and Sander looked at him confused. “What is it?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Robbe said. Sander stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and Robbe swallowed his nerves. “You can stay here and come on the stream with me—or hang out in my room if you feel more comfortable with that.” A small smile grew on Sander’s face. “Besides, I need your expertise about my stream and I’d love to have you with me.”

“Didn’t you say last week that I would be distracting?”

“Maybe,” Robbe said, tilting his head back. Sander stared at him with a sly smile on his face. “Maybe I also changed my mind about you being distracting. But you have to promise to be on your best behavior.”

“Okay,” Sander said, gripping his hips tightly. “I’d love to join. But I don’t know how much help I’m going to be with Fortnite and online matches. All I know is what you’ve told me or I’ve heard on your streams.”

Robbe smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before moving to the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon. I still need to grab a glass of water or I’m not going to be able to make it the rest of the stream without another break.”

When Robbe returned to his bedroom, Sander had kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the black shirt he had beneath it. His bag had been discarded at the foot of the bed. There was an emotional look on his face as he turned to Robbe who stepped into the doorway.

“You’re playing Pokémon?” Robbe nodded, relishing when Sander closed the distance and pressed another kiss to his lips. Even with a full glass of water in his hands, Robbe wasted no time in wrapping his free arm around his shoulders and kissing him back. When they separated, Sander grinned. “Lucky for you, Mr. IJzermans, I’m quite the Pokémon expert.”

Robbe smiled, stealing another fleeting kiss. “Lucky me.”

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander #sobbe #rosander #they're in love

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mischiefmanaged33 · 5 years ago

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Animal Crossing Tips!

@therealjacksepticeye I am a true veteran of animal crossing... been playing since I was 7 years old. I figured I could share some tips! (Even though I haven’t played New Horizons, there are some general tips that seem universal) These can be used by anyone new and even if you’re experienced... maybe you’ll learn something new!

So, whenever you get anything new on the island, a fish, a bug, or a fossil, save it and immediately give it to the museum. This will allow you to see each new thing that you have caught and will fill up the museum!

When you’re fishing, don’t run near the water. You’ll scare the fish away! There are sharks in animal crossing, but they’re quite tricky to catch. I imagine you’ll need something better than a flimsy rod. You can tell which ones are sharks because they have a fin sticking out of the water. Sometimes when you fish, trash comes up, so it’s not always a fish.

Trees are quite fun. They have fruit and other things hidden as well. I know in old versions of animal crossing, sometimes furniture would drop out of the trees. The bees are scary but if you outrun them and get into a house fast enough, the risk is well worth it! You can get bell drops and peaches which are a good source of income. Since I know you were already the victim of a bee attack, you can buy medicine to get your eyes back to normal. (As of writing this, you just figured this out :p) Bees come out of beehives that, after you’re done being attacked, are quite profitable.

To clear up some things on the characters, the nook twins talk like that because they are both very excited and while one is talking the other one repeats what they’re saying with enthusiasm. As for the “cheeks” thing, all of the animals will have a nickname for you and sometimes they’ll ask you for one or if you want them to change the nickname they already gave you. Talk to the characters regularly. Sometimes you can catch them talking to each other and hear some interesting conversations. They will give you all of the gossip and even send you on missions.

One annoying thing about Animal Crossing is the time thing. I know when I was small I would want to play animal crossing when I was on the bus, but nothing was open because it was so early in the morning. Same thing for late at night. The only thing you can do for that is to change the time on your switch. Another annoying thing with time is that a lot of times things in the stores don’t restock or change until the next day, so you actually have to wait.

Now I’ll talk about some of the tools!

Shovel: shovels are very useful. There are little stars on the ground that mean something is buried. This can mean that there is either a fossil (which you should take to the museum), a pitfall seed that will make you get stuck in a hole until you click a button a few times (a mild annoyance, but fun for pranks when you’re playing with friends.), or there could be a gyroid (little dancing robot things that a lot of people like to collect, and in some old versions could be given to K.K.), there could also be some furniture, though that happens less often. Shovels can also be used to hit rocks. Rocks have been known in older versions to spit out money and crystals. I imagine that this is what Timmy was talking about with the peaches.

Nets: Nets do what you’d expect. They help you catch bugs. Bugs mostly come out at night and the most rare ones come out at dusk. There are also butterflies during the day, and they’re very pretty. (Remember, bring everything new to Blathers (the museum)!).

Fishing rod: Similar to the net, it’s pretty obvious it catches fish. Same thing with the bugs, the most rare fish come out during dusk and dawn.

Axe: It chops down trees, but I warn that it shouldn’t be done often. You’ll get less peaches if you chop down too many trees!

Watering Can: The watering can can be used for growing flowers from seeds that you can be gifted you you buy. I know that there used to be some mechanics that allowed for cross pollination and some interesting types of flowers!

Slingshot: Yes... There is a sling shot. The present you saw floating on a balloon happens when the time on the system ends with the number 4, so like 12:54 etc. They can have some money or some furniture. (Any furniture you don’t like can be sold, btw).

Some tools are more powerful than others, as you have already experienced with “flimsy fishing rod”.

There are a group of people that come later called the Able Sisters. Normally I wouldn’t say anything because you haven’t seen them yet, but I think it’s really important to talk to Sable regularly... it’ll be worth it. (You’ll see what I mean).

Obviously you don’t have to take all or even any of my advice, but I thought I’d offer it. There are a lot of things I haven’t said (which is hard to believe seeing how much I wrote), but it’s true. I can’t wait to see more!

#jacksepticeye #animal crosing new horizons #animal crossing

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fic-ya-later · 4 years ago

Text

Not Gonna Die: Chapter 1

Summary: Castiel is depressed, however he has to return to work even if he doesn’t want too.

Warnings: Mentions of death and depression.

A/N: Hey guys! I am so excited to post this here! If you like what you see send me a message; I’d love to hear your thoughts! My request and taglist are OPEN so let me know if you’d like to join it or like something written! I’m working on honing my writing process and style to work on an original piece I’ve had ideas for so if you are a fellow writer send me a message and we can chat about ideas and processes! I hope you enjoy this work!

Series Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Castiel couldn’t tell how many times he had played Clair de Lune, but it was more than the number of whiskey tumblers he had drained in the last two hours of playing. He couldn’t seem to find the end; cadence would lead to cadence and he’d find himself resolving back to the beginning of the piece each time. Each pass through the melody something was different, Castiel’s fingers hesitated on a note, or he dampered a run’s end to cause the chord to linger in his ears. No, Castiel did not like endings. In his small apartment the baby grand echoed with grace. The rain on the glass wall of his apartment created a soft backdrop for the otherwise barren expanse of the room.

A pause in the music filled the air as Castiel reached for the fifth to refill his tumbler, only to find it, to his surprise, empty. What time was it? 11? 12? He couldn't tell any more. He set the bottle on the floor and looked up, running his hands down his face when he saw it. The only picture in the whole house sat on the small table in the corner. The soft hazel eyes smiled at him, and Castiel started another melody as tears swelled in his. This time the melancholy was more than a subtext to the music. He let his fingers linger on each note, the vibrations filling him as Gymnopedie No. 1 filled the room. He would’ve continued like this for hours just as he did the last night, and the night before last, and the one before that, but the vibrating of his phone across the room put an end to his thoughts.

GABE CALLING

With a sigh Castiel silenced the phone. He didn’t need yet another worried sibling bothering him during his self-loathing sabbatical. Not that it mattered. Most of them didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he wasn’t tarnishing the family’s name. Novak. He cursed his father’s last name for the weight it carried. So many knew the Novak technology empire that when they found out Castiel was a part of the family there was a look people would give him which accompanied the customary “why didn’t you follow your dad’s footsteps”. Castiel hated that question. At first he tried explaining that humans are just so interesting, and he felt it was his mission to protect and save them. After he changed his last name people asked why he didn’t capitalise on the familial fortune; he grew tired of explaining that he had all he needed and then some. After he moved away from Boston they would ask what he was running from. Now he had no answer. The past? The future? His family? He didn’t know, but there was something about the beauty of Colorado that just drew him in. There is a real connection to the Earth here. Castiel knew it was where he needed to be the first time he flew out to interview for Boulder City General; if he hadn’t been welcomed to their surgical team, well, he would have flown out to this very house no matter what and become a hermit.

GABE CALLING

Again his brother tried and failed to reach Castiel. The ringtone fell on deaf ears as Castiel was asleep on his sofa, completely dead to the world.

Most of Castiel’s dreams held little power over him. There was the odd dream of his mother which gifted him with comfort and peace. The dreams of wings that left him feeling assured and powerful. Then there were the dreams of forests, forests filled with green which left him waking with the constant uneasy edge of something invisible being out of place. These were the only dreams he cared for; the rest of them he chalked them up to subconscious ramblings of an overworked surgeon. These were the dreams of before. Now mostly he dreamed of red and the whine of equipment.

Blue eyes snapped open. Another of those dreams. With a groan Castiel rolled to his side. 4:12 flashed too brightly into his eyes. He blinked and refocused. May 12. With a sigh Castiel decided the best thing he could do would be to roll himself out of bed and clean up. He returned to work today and the scruff growing down his face and neck simply wouldn’t do. “What have I become?” Steam filled the room and doubt filled his head. “She was just a child.” “You did everything you could” “There had to be something you missed.” Thoughts spiralled through his head as he showered.

Two weeks ago Castiel met a new patient. A girl of only 12 named Claire. One week ago she went into the OR for a routine valve transplant. One week ago Claire died as Castiel stood over her with his decades, it seemed like centuries actually, of knowledge failing him. The operation was supposed to be straightforward, Castiel had accomplished successful surgeries in far worse circumstances, but when she flatlined he was completely at a loss. Nothing in his past hurt worse that the look on her mother’s face as he walked solemnly into the waiting room. Castiel walked out of the hospital that day fully intending on never walking back in. A stranger was the one who convinced him to take a sabbatical rather than retire a whole career early.

GABE CALLING

“Gabe.”

“Hello to you too Castiel.” The silence between the two stretched through the room. “You know what day it is today, right Cassy?”

“Yes. The days don’t change each week Gabriel. I know when Monday is.”

“And we know what happens today. Right?”

“You don’t need to talk to me like I'm a child. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“You’re going to do amazing!”

“Will you bring me lunch?”

“Of course. The usual right?” Cas smiles and hums in response. “Thought so. Don’t stress too much Cassie, I’ll be right down stairs if you need anything.”

“You can do so much better than janitor Gabriel if you ju-”

“Don’t start with me. I’ll work on my life as soon as I can stop worrying about yours little brother. Now get dressed, give Chevy a kiss for me and get your perky ass to the hospital before I have to drag it there myself.”

Gabe hung up before Cas could even retort by inquiring how his older brother knew the shape and lift of his rear, but he did leave a smile on the surgeon's face. As if on cue, knowing her being was mentioned, a meow cut through the empty apartment and the ashen coloured creature wrapped herself around Cas’s legs, her otherworldly eyes staring up at her human with mild disdain. Chevy was a rescue, Castiel took her in after she was dropped off at the clinic Gabe was working at at the time. They all assumed she was blind, her eyes wouldn’t open for weeks, and that she had been hit by a car. The gruff older man who dropped her off had said he would come back for her if she improved, a gift for a family member he said, but then he never came. So Chevy became Castiel’s. After weeks of nursing her wounds and staying up all night to ensure her health, she finally opened her eyes and looked at her new human with mild affection. Upon seeing her eyes Castiel knew she was meant for him, one stark, pure blue eye, and one warm, deep green eye had blinked at him and she decided that he’d do.

“I see you little lady. Let’s get you some food before dad goes to work.” While Castiel was never fond of people in general, he had a soft spot for animals and especially for Chevy. She always was so intune with him, and he wanted the best for her. After her water was freshened and a delicate mix of chicken and cat food mix was placed in her dish up on the counter in the bathroom, Castiel continued to ready himself for work. He showered and shaved quickly, trying not to glance at the scars on his back or on his wrists before dressing in freshly pressed trousers and a white button up.

“You get a kiss from Uncle Gabe this morning.” He scratches the cat’s chin before looking in the mirror one last time, face solemn and firm. “You can do this.”

-------

The hospital was as busy as ever, it was like Castiel had never left, that is until director of surgery Zachariah Adler made himself known. The snivelling man was everything that Castiel considered himself not to be: slimy, greedy, an overall pushover if it meant keeping his image and status, and worst of all he had very little regard for others or the lives that fell into his care--just as long as his numbers look good at the end of the quarter.

“Good to see you back Dr. Allen. I trust your week was...productive?” The director’s tone signalled to Castiel that he had to tread very carefully within the brief conversation.

“Yes Director, very productive. I spent much time focusing on updating my reading on surgical advancements made in the treatment of Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms. It proved quite provoking and has led me to belie…”

“Yes, yes. Very good. I trust we won’t have any more issues then?”

“No sir.”

“Very good.” The director turned on his heel and left as swiftly as he came, and with not so much a nod in Castiel’s direction.

“Good morning to you too.” Cas grumbled as he made his way to his office. Not much had changed, but there was a small layer of dust coating most surfaces he would have to wipe off on his lunch today. The tiny office was perfect for the surgeon’s needs. The north and east walls were adorned with meticulously organised and cared for bookshelves. The south wall held a bulletin board next to the door, and the west wall was nothing but glass. That overlooked Boulder City and the mountain range beyond. His desk was always kept neat, the only clutter taking the form of an organiser for his active case files and his in/out box, which had far more in it that he would’ve liked at this point, but that is the life of a surgeon.

Just as he’d settled in there was a tap on the door.

“Come in.” Cas absentmindedly called out as he remained buried in a case file that required some attention.

“Dr. Allen?”

“Mhhh.”

“Doctor Bradbury needs you for a consultation.” The voice was firm but cautious.

“Is it urgent or shall I schedule her in?” Castiel still had yet to look up from his case file, consultations were often needed when a surgery or procedure could potentially have adverse effects on a patient beyond the single issue.

“She already has requested you for a 10 am. If that’s amenable of course.”

“Mhhhm. That will do, please tell her I will be in my office Dr….” Blue eyes meet deep green.

“Nurse. Uh, Winchester.”

“Yes, thank you Winchester. Have you worked for Dr. Bradbury long?” The tanned face was not among the carefully catalogued members of staff within Castiel’s brain.

“First day. I will let her know you’re available. Thank you Dr. Allen.” As quickly as he came he was gone and Cas was left staring blankly at the empty doorway, wondering why those eyes captivated him so. There was a faint smell of leather lingering throughout the room that continued to mildly distract him for the remainder of his boring morning of answering emails and setting up appointments for referred clients. Just before he had his meeting with Dr. Bradbury, he was tempted to look up the new nurse in the directory, but stopped himself out of habit. New people often intrigued him, and he knew he could come on quite strong to the ‘uninitiated’ as Gabe called it. Perhaps he would be able to run into him at some point, it would seem those green eyes captivated Cas in a way he was unfamiliar with.

Another knock on the door. This one he was expecting, so he rose and greeted his friend and colleague warmly.

“Cas!” Once the door was shut OBGYN and friend Charlie Bradbury has her arms wrapped snuggly around Cas’s shoulders, he could feel the grin through his lab coat.

“Hello Charlie, it’s good to see you.”

“You too! How are you doing? You cant just ignore me like this; I didn’t know where you were for a whole week! You even missed theme night at the Roadhouse!” The bubbling redhead would go on forever if he let her.

“Charlie.” She quiets. “I’m okay, and yes I will be going to the Roadhouse tonight, and yes I know it’s cowboy night” --- “and girl” --- “Cowperson night. And I wasn't ignoring you, I was taking a brief leave of absence to deal with personal matters. If you wish, we can arrange lunch this week and I can fill you in.” She eagerly nods. “What did you need to see me for?”

“There's the Dr. Castiel Novak I know.” The resulting glare from the blue eyes makes her shiver. “Sorry Castiel. It's a habit. I’ve known you too long.”

“I know, please just be careful. I do not wish for certain members of faculty to know my upbringing or history. I've been passing as human for this long; I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” She nods sympathetically. While most people were open and accepting to the supernatural since the fall of heaven and closing of hell, many people were still quite superstitious and prejudiced against any nonhumans. “Well, to business. I've got a case that's really troubling me. It’s quite delicate, as the case is slightly personal to one of my staff members. I have a patient. Jessica Moore. She just came in for her routine prenatal and I discovered a heart murmur. I think we might have a tricuspid atresia. To make matters worse Ms Moore is having a difficult pregnancy to say the least. Her attachment is weak and she’s beginning to show signs of preeclampsia.”

“That is quite a combination.”

“Yes it seems that childbearing does not become her. She's the girlfriend of the brother of one of my nurses. I was hoping I could get you in for her next scan, she's due to have another ultrasound at 26 weeks. I’m worried we are going to end up having to either induce her or order a cesarean to maintain both of their healths.” Charlie’s face contorted with sadness at that. Castiel always admired the care she had for her patients.

“When would this be?” He opened his diary.

“Two weeks, Monday.”

“Yes I can be there. Have someone drop by the details later in the week so I can ensure I am up to date on the case.”

“I’ll have Dean drop them off to you tomorrow them.”

“Dean... that’s not a name you’ve used before.”

Charlie smiled at Cas cheekily. “Nothing gets by you Cas. Dean is a new midwife in my department. Came to me straight from the military believe it or not. He’s well over qualified for working with me, but I’m not complaining that I have the most capable, attractive, nerdiest midwife in the west at my fingertips.” She flashed a grin.

“How do those last two make him an effective nurse?”

“They don’t but I wanted to see your reaction. You met him this morning right?”

“Ah so that was the mystery nurse.”

“Yes. Now you can’t go scaring him away. He's already been invited to join the Roadhouse gang. Garth asked him this morning. The two are becoming rather fast friends I’d like to think. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes Charlie, I’ll be there with spurs on.”

“Kinky…” She winks as she leaves the room, and leaves Castiel to his thoughts.

As the day drug on, Castiel became so busy he barely noticed when his lunch hour came up. Jumping out of his chair he swapped his lab coat for a cardigan and went to meet his brother for the lunch he was promised.

#my writing #supernatural #dean x castiel #chapter one #Not Gonna Die #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #au

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always5hineee · 4 years ago

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Hell and Back - Chapter 2: Entry

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1661

-----

"So basically, I can have up to fifteen people." She explained. "And I figured you guys might want to help me out a bit?" Y/N was currently trying to explain the mysterious email she had received the night before, mentioning the opportunity for a wish and the potential group that she had in mind. The more people the better, right?

"So you can wish for anything?" Sehun asked, leaning forward with an intrigued glint in his eyes.

"I mean... yeah, it said that."

"We could totally wish to be rich, then." Kris suggested.

"Or famous!" Chanyeol added.

"Guys." Suho held his hands out, quieting their overlapping suggestions. "We could get the band." The whole group went into what almost looked like a frenzy, Y/N watching it with a glossy stare. She hadn't mentioned yet that she'd already made her wish. She just needed their help.

"This sounds awesome!" Tao cheered above the chatter, pumping a fist in a strange little dance. His and all the others' eyes were bright with excitement and hope, glittering with the promise of a better future. She didn't doubt that it was exactly the look that was on her face walking down the street the night before.

How was she meant to crush their hopes on this? There wasn't really much she could do. Even if she could change her wish... would she want to? There were ways around it. She could say that it gave her a multiple choice, or that it just sensed her deepest desire. Better yet, maybe she could convince them that it was what they internally wanted, and the strange system just figured it out on their own.

So now she was considering lying... Would it be worth it? For a power? She was conflicted beyond belief on it. It could change her life forever, make everything great, but... these were her best friends in the whole world. They were there for her even when she wasn't skilled, when she couldn't do what they could. They never made her feel worthless for it. How could she be expected to break the news to them now, though?

As she considered her options, optimism already warping with worries, she heard a notification ring from her phone. She had all of her notifications turned off all the time- until last night. She had set her email notification to ring should something come in. Sure enough, the little envelope icon was glowing on the screen. Noticing it over her shoulder, Chen's face lit up.

"Open it!" Hand shaking just slightly enough that she was the only one who noticed. Clicking into her phone after typing in her password. She moved to her inbox. Breath hitching, she recognized the clarity of the header. She felt a surge of heat as the large group of boys crowded around her, trying to see over each other to the tiny window.

Pressing on the icon, the letter opened up, listing on in the same shimmery white script under the now slightly familiar elegant logo. The label at the top simply read Thank You. In the interest of her entire group of friends, she read it out loud.

"You are allowed to enter up to fourteen teammates, providing for a fifteen-person team maximum. The signer of the initial email must be present for the start of the trials, but does not have to remain throughout the entire process. Please enter the names of those who wish to participate. After the details have been given, all will be given an opportunity to revoke their application. Looking around at them, she asked if they were all willing to participate.

"This seems a little sketchy." Baekhyun said quietly. He hadn't really spoken up until this point, but he wasn't too excited at the prospect of some mysterious set of 'trials'. She had to admit that the word didn't sound the most pleasant.

"Come on, we'll be able to pull out if we really want to." Lay nudged him. "Count me in! Seems like it could be fun!" Looking around, she saw the various nods and agreeing murmurs. Noting no objections, she wrote down all their full names. Clicking enter, it buffered, then switched screen.

"Your wish has been ascertained."

"You made a wish already?" Luhan asked, brows furrowing confusedly, wondering why she wouldn't have spoken up certain.

"No, ascertained means to find something out. That insinuates that they picked it for us." Kyungsoo explained, Y/N breathing out in a quiet sigh of relief. She'd tell them eventually. Just... not now. She continued reading to take their attention off of the tangent.

"Your trials have now been activated." She read out. "An app request will be sent to your phone. To continue playing, accept the request and download the software. Follow the instructions from there. Thank you for your submission." Just as she hit the final 'enter' button, the email disappeared again, just as it had before.

"Well..." Baekhyun noted. "That was... something."

"Did you guys get the notification yet?" Lay asked, already pulling out his phone. After a few no's, Chen spoke up.

"Wait, what is this?" Showing his phone to Kyungsoo, the man sighed. "That's an update notification from your settings app."

"Oh... and that one?" Kyungsoo looked again.

"Oh- now that's the notification." Lay ran over to look at it. Sure enough, he had received a generic notification that had the regular options of accept or deny. The simple black font asked, Allow dHJpYWxz to download and make changes to your device? Before Chen could even do anything, Lay groaned,

"Aww, why did he get it first?" Reaching over his shoulder to tap 'accept'.

"Hey!"

"What? You were gonna do it anyway!" Sure enough, the notifications began popping up one everyone's phones. Once all the boys had accepted (some more excitedly than others), Y/N received a slightly different notification.

All of your party has entered. Allow dHJpYWxz-party1 to download and make changes to your device? Confused on the new wording, but unaware of a better option, she clicked accept as well, opening the app. Once her's was running, all the others began scrolling content across the screens. The app had the same sleek design as the email, featuring the black and silver color palette.

The makeup of the app was very minimalistic. The homepage for the boys had four very distinct sections, each with a translucent color to separate it. The first was "Current Trial", second was "Completed Trials", the third was "Players", and the final was "Rules and Gameplay". Y/N's screen housed all of these, as well as another bar before rules titled "Abilities bar". Clicking through, everything seemed a bit bare, so she directed everyone a bit awkwardly.

"Hey, we should probably read through the rules." They all agreed, clicking into the tab to skim the sheet as they took turns reading sections aloud.

Welcome to the trials. You have all agreed to participate thus far. There are 100 rounds, each with a different goal that you will be given at the start of the round. There is no way to skip a round, and you will not be able to see rounds in advance. For every round, you will be given your goal. Some will include time limits or specific items you need to collect. In addition, for each round, one person will be prohibited from using their abilities. This will be non-negotiable, as you will find your powers rendered useless for the round.

In all public trials, you are permitted to cause as much or as little of a scene as possible. You are not allowed to explain the trials to anyone, or you will be eliminated. You may not be caught by law enforcement, or you will be eliminated. You may not cheat, or you will be eliminated. Loopholes, however, are valid and could even be rewarded.

At the start of every round, you will be given a chance to drop out. Each trial will have its own drop-out fee aside from Round 1. Your fee will be collected under any and all circumstances, so consider well before you choose to exit the trials. In the event of someone leaving the trials, they are not permitted to return, but the rest of the group remains unaffected. In the event that Player 1 leaves the trials, the remaining players will be given an additional trial to determine a new player 1.

To win, at least one person must complete all 100 trials successfully. In the event of a victor, a wish will be granted. Any questions may be asked through the Rules and Gameplay help bar. You will be answered in a timely manner. If you receive no response, your question may have been invalid, or there may be assistance on the way. At this time, if you wish to remove yourself from the trials, please go to the Current Trial page and follow the sequence. This will be accessible at all times.

"This is... a lot to process." Kris said, rather obviously. Each of them was exploring the app curiously, most of the buttons inactive. Clicking into the Current Trial bar, she noted that the drop out button was indeed active. Underneath the big letters, "End Trials", there was a smaller script reading, Removal Fee: None. Next to the button, there was also a large "Begin" button. Looking at the others' screens, she noted that she was the only one who had it. She assumed that, as the so-called Player 1, she was in charge of deciding when the rounds began.

"So... are we doing this thing?" Tao asked her, leaning forward to hover over her phone a bit.

"If you all are ready." With sideways glances and nods from the group, she inhaled deeply, finger hovering over the screen. Finally, she worked up the courage and clicked it, lighting up the page.

Trial 1: Start.

Go to Chapter 3

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blackberrywidow · 6 years ago

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You’re It

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Fluff and mild language

Summary: College AU. During a game of Humans vs. Zombies, you find yourself falling for the enemy.

A/N: This is my submission for @spideypeach and @astral-parker‘s writing challenge. I hope everyone likes this! I know everything I've been writing has been super fluffy recently, but I can’t stop myself so here’s some more.

It was day three.

For three long days, you had been living in this apocalyptic hell, dodging zombies left and right just to make it to the goddamn food court. It was frustrating, always having to have your gun out and ready to fire at any handsy obstacles, but it was also fun. A nice change of pace to break up the dull monotony of university. And you were determined to win—well, at least be the last to lose anyway.

According to the webpage that was tracking the game, there were still about 29 of the original 134 still in the game, including yourself. Zombies were starting to drop out of the game like flies with so few people left to feed on, but you were determined to keep your wits about you and stay in this game until the very end.

Your bandana was tied securely around your arm, the vibrant orange signaling that you were one of the few remaining humans in play to feed on before the 48 hour deadline to “eat” another passed. Yesterday was hard enough—you had barely avoided being tagged 4 times. You knew today was going to be even more challenging.

But you were determined—if you could run away from the star quarterback for a whole block, you could survive anything. You were smart. You were fast. You had a fully loaded nerf gun and an air of ruthlessness that would make anyone hesitate to approach you. You—

A flash of orange appeared in the corner of your eye and you instinctively dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding an outstretched hand.

“Hey,” the owner of the grabby hand shouted in surprise. He rounded on you, smile exuberant and brown curls wild as he laughed. “I really thought I had you for a second there. Great reflexes!”

“Uh… thanks,” you responded dumbly, watching him with cautious eyes. Your cheap plastic gun was clutched tightly in your right hand, but you had yet to raise it. You wanted to attribute your hesitation to his strange reaction to missing you. But if you were being honest, he was quite possibly the cutest boy you had ever seen. He was dressed casually in a band t-shirt and jeans, and the orange bandana that he had tied around his head to signify that he was a zombie didn’t look as ridiculous on him as it did on everyone else. It was his eyes that really drew you in though—they seemed to reflect his smile and happiness. If nothing else, he was certainly the most lively looking zombie you’d ever seen.

“I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand as though they had just met under normal circumstances. But these weren’tnormal circumstances, so you stared pointedly at his hand until he dropped it back to his side with a chuckle. “Oh right. No touching. Well, I mean, I am about to touch you though.”

You raised an eyebrow in response, still resolutely silent as you waited for him to reconsider his words before you really had to hurt him. It only took the space of a heartbeat.

“Oh, no! Sorry, no, not like that. I mean, not that I’m like disgusted by you or anything, just that I, uh… meant for the game. Like I’m gonna tag you.”

Your lips twitched up involuntarily, despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. His rambling was endearing, if a little strange. “Right. Just one small problem with that.”

“Problem?” Peter repeated, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Yes, just a small problem though. If you wanna touch me,” you teased, grinning wickedly when he flushed, “you’ll have to catch me first.”

And with that, you were taking off down the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t just raise your gun and shoot him. If you had managed to hit him with the harmless foam dart, he would have been immobilized for 15 minutes per the rules of the game, which would have given you ample time to get away without all of this physical exertion. Yet there you were, laughing exuberantly while being chased down the street by a practical stranger.

But you could hear his yelled threats of “eating your brains” and “turning you into one of us” from behind you, the amusement clear in his voice, and you knew that you had made the right choice.

You stumbled around a corner, accidentally knocking into a stranger and dropping your only weapon as a result. You didn’t slow down long enough to retrieve it, though you did turn to offer a hurried apology. Once you had made another sharp turn, you finally allowed yourself to slow down minutely. You sucked in greedy gulps of air and hoped (and feared) that you had lost Peter with your evasive turns, before looking up and realizing that you had just cornered yourself in an alley.

“Shit,” you cursed, just as Peter rounded the corner after you with a triumphant “Gotcha!” You closed your eyes, desperately formulating ideas to get you out of this as you slowly turned to face your zombie attacker, completely defenseless and with nowhere to run.

“Okay,” you panted, trying desperately to regain your breath even as your smile widened. “How about we make a deal Peter.”

“What?!” The idea of making a deal seemed completely preposterous too him as he laughed and shook his head, not even the slightest bit out of breath. The jerk. “No way! I’ve got you cornered, completely weaponless. There’s no way you can make it out of this un-zombified. I can’t just let you go, no matter what you offer me. I have some pride you know.”

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, stalling as you tried desperately to think of something that you could offer him that wouldn’t injure your pride. “Well… if you let me go, I’ll go on a date with you.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. His chocolate eyes widened comically, his mouth dropping open as he tried to sputter out a response. You’d be embarrassed if it weren’t so cute. “I—I can’t just agree to let you go in exchange for a date! That’s—that’s like… well I don’t know! But it seems wrong!”

“Why?” you challenged, an excited gleam in your eye. This game was turning out to be much more fun than you had expected. “Nowhere in the rules does it say that you have to tag me—just let me go and I’ll go on a date with you. It’s as easy as that.”

He raised a skeptical brow in response. “That seems kind of manipulative, doesn’t it? That you’ll only go out with me if I do something for you.”

“Well…” you hesitated, realizing that he was actually kind of right. Dammit. “Okay, fine. I would probably go on a date with you even if you tagged me, because you’re cute.” You were kind enough to ignore the way his face flushed at the praise. “But if you want to go on a date with me, shouldn’t you be willing to sacrifice this one kill to let me live? You’ve got me cornered here. Hardly seems fair.”

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed in contemplation as he mulled it over, blessedly not pointing out that it was actually more than fair. It was how the game was supposed to be played—you were the one trying to play by different rules.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “If you go on a date with me tonight, I won’t zombify you… now. This agreement will enact a treaty that lasts from now until the moment I walk you home—not a second later. Then, I can tag you whenever I want.”

“If you can catch me again,” you shot back, a smug smile on your face as you stepped forward to shake his hand in agreement. “I accept your terms, Mr. Parker.”

Peter grinned at you in response before slowly lowering his gaze to your still-outstretched hand.

“Oh.” You blinked down at your hand before slowly lowering it to your side. Now you were the one being obtuse. “Right. No touching then.”

“It’ll make for an interesting first date at least,” Peter offered, though he immediately backtracked when he caught the widening of your eyes. “Not that I was gonna touch you! I mean, it’s not like I’m opposed to it or something, just that I, uh—”

“Relax, Peter,” you laughed, rolling your eyes and taking a step back. “I’ll see you at six, yeah? I live in Teter Hall. You can pick me up there.”

With that, to turned around and strode off down the street, looking to retrieve your gun before heading to your next class. Hopefully you could find some ammo along the way.

“Wait!” Peter called after you, though he made no move to follow now that you had a treaty. “I didn’t catch your name!”

“Oh,” you chuckled, the giddiness of your near-“death” experience and your upcoming date getting to you. “It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you yelled back, turning just long enough to flash him a smile and give him an answer before disappearing around the corner.

---

Four hours later and you were descending the stairs leading up to your building to meet a nervous-looking Peter at the bottom.

“You’re early,” you teased, trying for casual despite the tight ball of nerves that had taken over your stomach. It had been so natural this morning—flirting had never come so easy to you. But now you had time to rethink your actions and you had lost all of your confidence. You would at least do your best to pretend though. “Hope you’re not trying to do some recon for after our treaty.”

“I would never,” Peter swore solemnly, holding a hand over his heart. His expression quickly softened into a smile as he drank in your appearance though. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you said, doing a little twirl as you took the last step down to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. It was your favorite dress, one that you rarely had the opportunity to wear, so you were glad to break it out for the occasion. “So do you,” you noted, taking in his slightly more formal outfit—he had swapped out his t-shirt for a blue sweater over a checkered red button-up, though he was still wearing jeans and looked as disheveled as he had earlier. He seemed like he was always in a state of disarray.

His cheeks flushed at the praise, and he ran a hand through his previously well-styled hair. “Thanks.”

“So, where are we going?” you asked after a beat of silence, wondering what someone like Peter would consider an ideal first date.

“Well, the animal shelter that’s just a few minutes from campus is open for another hour. I uh… thought that maybe we could go there first, then go get dinner at that Italian place across the street from it?”

He seemed nervous, waiting for you to criticize his plan even as your eyes lit up with excitement. “That sounds amazing!” you decided, taking off in the direction of the shelter without further prompting. “I absolutely love animals. I actually volunteered at the local animal shelter back home when I was in high school. And I’ve always wanted to go to Buchetto’s!”

“Yeah,” Peter said with a relieved laugh, easily keeping pace with you. “I know.”

“Oh do you?” you challenged, glancing at him with narrowed eyes and feigning suspicion. “How do you know that? Did you run a background check on me?”

“Yes,” Peter confessed solemnly, expression suddenly serious. “I wanted to be prepared, and luckily the first thing that popped up was ‘loves dogs and pasta.’ My second date idea was to take you to court to pay for all of your speeding tickets.”

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t contain your laugh at his dry humor. “Speeding tickets, huh? I think you might have found the wrong girl.”

“Ah,” Peter sighed, ducking his head down to try to hide his answering smile. “Good thing I looked you up on Instagram as a backup then.”

“So… you did stalk me on Instagram then?”

Your grin widened as you watched Peter flounder for a response. You considered taking mercy on him, but instead choose to wait a full minute for him to settle on a simple. “Well… basically, yeah.”

“Good,” you answered, moving your gaze to look straight ahead as the shelter came into view. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one. Having an internship with Stark Industries is amazing, by the way. Kudos to you.”

Peter’s smile was relieved and more than a little grateful. “Thanks. So, shall we pet some puppies?”

He opened the door to the shelter with a flourish that made you giggle. You played along, dropping into a clumsy curtsy before entering. “Yes sir, I believe we shall.”

---

As far as first dates go this one was… well, definitely the best you had ever had. After spending nearly an hour playing with the adorable dogs and cats—all of which you wished you could sneak into your dorm room—you made the short walk across the street to the Italian bistro that Peter had suggested. It exceeded your expectations as well.

The puppies were cute, the food was delicious, but Peter blew them both out of the water.

He was amazing, simply put. You could tell that he was nervous at first—and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were too—but that quickly faded throughout the night. He was funny and charming (but not in a charming way, more like a this dork is hopeless but it’s so endearing I think I may swoon way). He was also smart, which shined through in the things he said and did without him having to brag or draw attention to it. And he wasn’t putting any pressure on you the entire time—the date was casual and relaxed, without any hint of aggression or creepiness on his part. And considering your past dates… that was a major feat.

Most importantly though, he had yet to touch you.

This fact was also one that was becoming increasingly disappointing.

It was great that he appeared to be taking your treaty very seriously. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to hold your hand or place an arm around your shoulders, effectively tagging you and making you a zombie, but he hadn’t. You hoped that it was solely because of the game, but you also had a small fear that he just wasn’t interested after all.

Thanks to your circumstances, you really had no way of knowing short of asking him outright. Which you were not going to do.

“So…” Peter said once you were out of the restaurant and heading back to campus. He tugged subconsciously at the orange headband he wore around his head as he smiled down at you, only reminding you again that this game was effectively the biggest cockblock at the moment.

(Not that you were thinking about that of course! Just that…yeah. No touching.)

“So…” you mimicked, returning his smile and wondering if it would be worth losing the game just to reach out and grab his hand.

“I had a great time,” he finally decided on, meeting your eyes briefly before his gaze darted away. “I’m really glad that you blackmailed me into doing this.”

“Hey!” you protested, barely catching yourself before you playfully hit him in the shoulder. Something he noticed, if his smirk and glint of mischief in his eyes indicated anything. “It wasn’t blackmail. It was… a negotiation.”

“Okay, fine. We negotiated,” Peter acquiesced with a chuckle. “I uh… hope we can negotiate again in the near future?” His voice sounded so unsure and hopeful that any previous doubts you had faded away.

You grinned as you came to a stop in front of your dorm, wishing that this wasn’t the end of the night but glad that you now had the promise of more. “I would love that.”

“Hey!”

The voice made you both jump, and Peter’s gaze snapped somewhere over your left shoulder, his eyes narrowing. You whirled around, more than a little irritated that some jerk was interrupting your nice night, and was surprised to find that it really was just some random dude about twenty feet away from you.

“Do you know him?” you asked, raising a brow. You certainly didn’t recognize him from anywhere and couldn’t come up with a reason that he would be yelling at you—and it had to be at the two of you as there was no one else around at this time of night on a Friday. Everyone was either inside catching up on school work or out socializing elsewhere. Everyone except you and this jerk wearing a—oh.

“No, but he’s a player,” Peter pointed out in a whisper just as you came to the same conclusion. The guy was of average height and build, with shaggy blonde hair held back with an orange bandana that signified his zombie-status. And he was moving steadily toward you, a slow grin forming on his face.

Peter stepped up behind you, closer now but still not touching. Your eyes snapped to the side, gauging the distance between you and your dorm building and your chances of making it there before the guy tagged you.

“Hey,” Peter called back, making an effort to sound friendly but assertive. Unfortunately, assertiveness wasn’t really his strong suit and it came of as weary more than anything. “What’s up man?”

“You do realize that you’re standing next to one of the last fifteen humans in play, right?” the blonde zombie asked, bewilderment coloring his tone as he came to rest only a few feet from you. “Why haven’t you tagged her yet?!”

“We’re… friends,” Peter answered, stepping up beside you and glancing you out of the corner of his eye as though to confirm. You shrugged—you hardly knew what you were, but you knew you hoped it was more than friends. Now just wasn’t a good time to hash that out.

“Well, she isn’t my friend,” the guy responded with a snicker. He took another step forward the same moment you took one back. “And I’ve only got thirty minutes left to tag someone before I’m out of the game. So, sorry sweetheart, but you’re about to be it.”

A tense moment followed his statement, one that seemed to last forever but in reality, only took long enough for Peter to glance back at you to mouth one word: run.

You didn’t hesitate to listen. You spun on your heel, taking off toward your dorm as fast as you could, but the zombie was faster. He lunged after you, hand outstretched, and barely missed your shoulder when Peter tackled him.

You gasped in shock, eye blowing wide at the unexpected save, and froze.

“Go!” Peter called out, rolling off of the guy. You understood that he couldn’t exactly restrain the guy forever—you were just playing a game and at some point, it would become assault—but you wished that he could have bought you just a few more seconds. “I’m right behind you!”

Your feet responded before your mind did, which was great except that they decided to carry you in the opposite direction from your dorm. You suppose it made sense as Peter and the other zombie were blocking your path, but now you were just running aimlessly away. Impulse decisions really just weren’t a strength of yours.

You heard footsteps pounding behind you, and you picked up the pace. Man this guy was fast—even the quarterback from yesterday hadn’t put you through this kind of workout.

“Hey!” a voice you immediately recognized called out, and you stumbled in surprise. Peter’s hand shot out to help you, but he quickly caught himself and let it drop as he came to a stop beside you. “This way!”

He inclined his head in the direction of a gazebo to your right, and it was only then that you realized you had made it all the way to Campus Square. You nodded, taking his advice and dashing over to the gazebo with Peter hot on your heels. You both dove down to find cover in the bushes behind the gazebo and got as close together as you could without touching.

You sat there in silence, listening intently for the arrival of your zombie attacker before you started giggling.

“Uh… What’s so funny? Shouldn’t we be trying to be quiet right now?” Peter whispered, looking down to meet your eyes. You could barely make out his features in the dim lighting of the nearby lampposts, but you saw affection warring with the confusion and it made you smile.

“Yeah, it’s just… isn’t this so ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous?” Peter repeated, clearly still confused though he smiled when you laughed again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this game,” you explained quietly. “We just spent this entire evening together, not touching once, so that I could stay in as a human. And then as soon as we get back to my dorm and our treaty is technically over, some other guy shows up to tag me. The timing is impeccable, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed with a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I guess it is pretty ridiculous. But it feels wrong to tag you now, even with the treaty, you know? I just hope that we can make it back to your dorm without that guy finding us. He doesn’t really seem like the type to give up.”

You considered that, taking in the truth of his words. The solution seemed obvious.

“Peter.” You whispered his name like a prayer, tone suddenly sober and serious when previously it had been full of mirth.

He noticed the change immediately, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to interpret your meaning. “(Y/N)? What—”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish, deciding that it was now or never. Your hand shot out and grasped peter by the collar of his dress shirt to pull him down into a heated kiss.

His surprise was obvious—he jerked back in surprise and his lips remained frozen under yours. You were just about to accept that you had misread the situation and made a fool of yourself when he finally responded.

Losing the game was definitelyworth it.

His lips were soft and gentle as he brushed them against yours, and his touch was tentative but firm when he raised a hand to hold the back of your head. But it was sweet and loving in the way first kisses should be, and a warmth spread in your chest and stole your breath.

“Oh, come on!”

You both jumped apart, faces flaming red as you turned to find the zombie from earlier staring down at you in horror. “I was so close to getting you!”

“Sorry man,” Peter replied with a chuckle and a shrug after he got over the initial shock of being caught making out in the bushes. “I got her first.”

“Yeah, I see that.” The guy rolled his eyes but held a fist out for Peter to bump his against. “Good for you dude.”

He left after that, clearly sulking now that he was out of time to stay in the game, and you sighed in relief. “Boys are stupid.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed with a laugh before standing and holding a hand out to help you up. “That we are.”

“Well, at least some are more tolerable than others,” you teased, unable to contain your smile. The only consolation was that Peter seemed to be having the same problem.

“Here,” he said, reaching out with steady hands to untie the orange bandana from around your arm. “We have to make it official.”

Your cheeks heated as he worked on retying the bandana securely around your head, marking you as a zombie. You hoped he didn’t notice. “I was really set on lasting longer you know.”

“Sorry,” Peter said with a sheepish grin, though you got the feeling he really wasn’t. “I guess that’s what you get for going on a date with a zombie.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you sighed heavily, casting your gaze to the ground. He tensed as he finished tying the bandana, and you knew he was seconds away from making a real apology when you said, “Worth it though. There’s no other zombie I’d rather have bite me.”

Peter pulled back, cheeks tinted pink and smile daring as he laughed. “Well, I didn’t bite you. But—”

“Slow down there Zombie Boy,” you laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him in the direction of your dorm. “Walk me home first and we’ll see where it goes.”

“Sounds like plan,” Peter agreed, easily falling into step with you. “Well negotiated as always.”

Taglist: @desir-ae, @sugarplumparker, @tina8009

#mcu fanfiction #Peter Parker #Spider-man #Peter Parker x Reader #Spider-man x reader #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker oneshot #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x OC #college au #fluff #shrutialliewc #my writing

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gaasaku-fanfests · 6 years ago

Text

Enslaved (Part 9 & 10)

Title: Enslaved Author: Pikaboubou Rating: E Word Count: LOL 86,775 Summary: AU; Suna succeeded in the Konoha Crush, enslaving their people. Years later Sakura is forced into the care of the man who destroyed her village, and is surprised by what she finds in him. Gaara, on the other hand, is interested in becoming more… ‘social’. Warnings: sexual assault, abuse, stockholm syndrome, graphic sexual content, murder, torture, physical abuse, verbal abuse, foul language. Author’s Note(s): Both Sakura POV and Gaara POV. Despite the warnings this is actually not as a dark as it sounds, and does in fact have some comedy and romance. There’s some OOC moments, but hey, its fanfiction. (Also have plans for a sequel if well received) (Additional note: Mild dub-con elements in the early section but not a dark story. If you don’t like dark Gaara you may still like this.👍😊💕) [Due to the size (and 10 parts) this story has been merged into 5 parts/posts.]

Prompt chosen: AU, War

Partner: saku-harem

Part 9

When Sakura woke up she was once again alone, but this was the norm for her. Somehow he would always manage to slip away unnoticed, and for once she wished she could wake up to him laying by her side.

The pinkette yawned, and stretched. She looked around herself to find that her clothes were neatly folded next to the bed, unlike the original way she had tossed them in pile.

She didn't think Gaara to be a 'neat freak' due to that one frightening room she had been stuck in with him in the beginning, but he seemed to have proved her wrong. Every day things were put exactly in their proper place.

Sakura thought about the day she had first been placed in his 'care'. That meeting between them had been frightening at first, however if she were to go back with how she felt about him now she was certain that night would have turned out very differently.

It was no secret, there was something about him that had her enchanted, and enticed. Every moment with him left her craving more, even though she had been so afraid of going anywhere in the first place. She had made a complete one-eighty on the idea, and now had many thoughts on how she could achieve such things with him.

Such... horrible things...

The pinkette smirked as she put on her civilian clothes for the day. Perhaps if he showed up sooner they could go for a walk... a very, very, very long walk.

'Damnit, get your head out of the gutter!' She scolded herself, yet that stupid grin couldn't help but spread across her face.

Sakura made her way down to his room, but when he wasn't there she sighed finding herself easily bored even though his bedroom was her own personal haven. With a curious spirit she made her way through the stone 'mansion'. It was huge like a mansion, maybe even a palace, but Suna was a strange place where people lived in the sides of canyons and their style reflected that. It was essentially just a sandstone palace, but it was certainly exotic in comparison to Konoha.

The pinkette missed her home terribly, even though Suna had technically been her home for years now. She wondered if Naruto, Kakashi, and Sasuke were still alive--

"Sasuke..." She murmured as she looked out at a sandy courtyard. Once upon a time he was the only boy on her mind, and even pledged her eternal love to him...

But after that day, the day that they had left her behind, she had grown bitter. They didn't think to grab her unconscious body. They left her there.

No secret letters, no contact, no rescue missions... nothing. Perhaps it was better that she leave people like that behind. People who did not truly love her.

Just then Sakura heard something, it sounded almost like fighting. Her free spirit led her to the sounds, and when she wandered outside the courtyard she found two ninja sparring--

'Gaara?!...and Kankuro?' She watched with intrigue from around the wall as they seemed to jump around a great deal. Kicks, punches, dodge rolls, leg sweeps, jumps, back bends, and roundhouses. She was completely captivated by how they both moved especially in the gear they were wearing. Their clothes always seemed so baggy so she wondered just how agile they were in hand to hand, but it seemed that they held their own well enough.

Suddenly Kankuro got a hit rather close to Gaara's face, and a hiss of sand whooshed to his aid. The fight stopped abruptly, and the redhead cursed while punching at his own ultimate defense. Kankuro laughed heartily at him before he seemed to notice something. He didn't turn her way, but she wasn't completely sure what he had leaned in to tell Gaara about. The redhead nodded in agreement to something, and disappeared in a cloud of sand.

"Aw... no fun. I wanted to see him fight." She whispered to herself, but then heard fabric move behind her. She wasn't quick enough to stop the person from snatching her up by her waist, but she knew the smell of him intimately as well as the feeling of his body against her back.

"You snuck out, I see." Gaara hummed into her ear, and the tone tickled her. With a giggle she tilted her head back to see him smirking at her. "How very mischievous of you--"

"Hnnn, I was lonely. No mischief here." Sakura purred before turning in his arms so she could place hers around his neck. "Although, I did enjoy your sparring session. I didn't think you could move like that."

"I'm full of surprises." The redhead gave a half smile that had her almost melting.

"Yes, so you've shown me a few times now." The pinkette let one hand come down to trail across his chest. "You have many tricks too... I was wondering if you could show me one soon?"

Gaara blinked at that, a bit shocked by her sudden boldness, but his shock quickly turned wicked.

"You want to see a trick?" The redhead gave a devilish smirk, and it had her tingling all over with excitement.

"Hmm. See, feel, same difference right?" Sakura snickered for a moment, but then gasped as he pressed her up against the wall with a force that he had hidden from her. Before she could even comprehend what was happening his mouth was on hers, giving her a dizzying kiss.

The pinkette hummed, her fingers scratching at his shoulders while her tongue danced with his own. He was pressing himself against her so firmly she felt as if he was crushing her, and yet the pressure was still so exciting despite the slight discomfort. His hands began to roam, and one had the gall to sneak up her red dress--

"Mmm!--- Gaara! No! Bad!" Sakura broke out of his enchanting kiss to scold him for being naughty. It wasn't like they were hidden away anywhere, rather they were outside in broad daylight. He only seemed to give a sly grin in response, which had her worried that he might get a bit too daring.

"Too much? Or is it that you don't want to be seen?" Gaara's charcoal lined eyes narrowed knowingly before his hand gave a firm squeeze to her bottom. "It's not unheard of for Suna citizens to show affection in public. Sometimes they can be rather graphic in their displays--"

"I am not fucking you outside." The pinkette narrowed her eyes back at him with a withered expression. To her surprise he managed a small flush despite his dominant demeanor.

"I didn't say they go that far..." The redhead looked off to the side, his bravado quickly fading under a wash of anxiousness. "Is that... why you came here?"

She could see that shy boy peeking through him again, and for some reason it had her burning hotter than his more vicious side. However, she knew that she had to treat this very delicately as it had now become a touchy subject.

"Well, I was hoping you'd still be in bed when I woke up this morning. I really just wanted to cuddle--"

"O-oh... I see..." Gaara shivered for a moment before biting his lip. "I'm... I'm sorry I was not there when you woke up. I know you don't like being in that room alone."

'Ugh, stop acting so damn cute!' She shouted inwardly, but also secretly loved this side of him.

"That room is meant to have at least two people occupying it. Don't you think?" Sakura played with the buttons on his maroon coat near his neck, and got the pleasure of watching him swallow hard.

"You said you didn't like being in there because it makes you feel like a... whore..." The redhead's face scrunched up at the word, but the way he said it washed over her almost erotically.

"Well, I'm sorry if this hurts the image you painted of me... but I don't mind playing that part for you once in a while. Is that okay?" The pinkette ran her fingers through his crimson locks as his eyes widened at her declaration. His lips parted for just the barest of moments before a pink tongue darted out to wet them quickly. With a shaking exhale he closed his eyes, and gave a fast but gentle nod. "I'm so glad you approve, I was worried that you might grow tired of me--"

"Never! I constantly think of you--!" Gaara blurted out rather sternly before his cheeks burned. With an embarrassed groan he leaned his head on her shoulder, gaining a hysterical giggle from her. "Sorry... I'm not trying to be weird..."

"No, its adorable. I like your enthusiasm." Sakura swayed with him lovingly, and felt completely comfortable in his arms.

What was happening to her? How could she be so fond of someone she was certain she had hated? She almost wished she could go back and yell at her twelve year old self for hating another child.

He was a child still when the Konoha Crush started... he was so much shorter, and although frightening his face was so youthful. She couldn't even imagine how hurt he must have felt for his entire life.

"Sakura?" The redhead brought his hand to her chin to raise up her gaze. Her sight locked onto his haunting eyes, they were so beautiful and yet intimidating all the same.

No, not intimidating... not anymore. Now they were sad, and wondering about the world around them. Searching for something to ease the pain.

Her heart was pounding violently in her chest. What was this? It felt so familiar yet it also felt like she had never experienced it before. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed painfully, yet it was intoxicating. She wanted to live, and she wanted to die at the same time.

"I'm so sorry..." The pinkette trembled, her palms reaching up to his cheeks to cup his face in her hands. He looked truly terrified. "I hated you once, and I'm sorry I did not take the time to see who you truly were. You're such a beautiful person--"

She couldn't grant him a full speech as he almost instantly gave a choking exhale that broke her heart. His eyes squinted shut with an emotion that he was forcing back, but she could see the shining evidence in the clenched corners of his closed eyes.

"Don't just... suddenly say things like that. I'm not prepared for it." Gaara gave a shaking laugh, but it was obvious that he felt a relapse of pain in that moment. "I'm sorry too, for being a complete ass of a child--"

"Eh?! You weren't an ass! You sure were broody though." Sakura snickered in an attempt to lighten the mood. She knew she had ruined the moment they were having, so it was her job to make it up to him. "I didn't like your attitude back then, but now when I see it I feel a little differently."

"How so?" The redhead sniffled slightly, giving her a telling sign that he was almost on the verge of tears for a moment. She really shouldn't make her boyfriend cry in public--

'Boyfriend?....' She inwardly shocked herself with that strange status she had just put on him. They weren't dating or anything... or were they? Were they even courting?

"Sakura?" He pressed for her to speak, and she gave a laugh.

"Oh, well, the brooding thing... I don't really know how to explain it. You just have that 'bad boy' vibe, but you're actually a sweetheart underneath." Sakura giggled, but his eyes started to narrow.

"I did a lot more than just 'brood'. I murdered a lot of people... I still do, unfortunately." Gaara's mood seemed to change then, it darkened.

'Wow, I really suck at cheering up boys.' The pinkette felt herself deflate, but tried to stay strong.

"Do you want to change that? You can, you know--?"

"No. I can't change it. It will always happen, no matter what I say. The full moon is the worst for me... he craves blood." She watched as the redhead started to whirl into a tailspin, and she inwardly berated herself for it.

'STOP MAKING HIM UPSET, MY GOD!'

"Spend the full moon with me then." Sakura tried grinning, but he eyed her with a nervous expression.

"I could kill you--"

"You won't. You can take out your frustrations in other ways, Gaara. You know you have that option now that you have a girlfriend, right?"

There was that word again, that label that she not only put on him but now herself as well. His brows raised curiously at it too, blinking at her owlishly like she were the most interesting thing on earth.

"Girlfriend?" It slipped sweetly from his lips, but his confusion had her inwardly cringing.

"Yeah... um... sorry, you don't have to call me that if you don't want to--"

"Ah! No! I like it... truly." A genuinely sweet smile formed on his lips, and it had to be the purest thing she had ever seen in her whole life. He held her a bit closer, and leaned in to kiss her with a gentleness that she wasn't used to.

However, she felt she could get used to it rather quickly.

--- ... --- ...

He couldn't stop watching her, he couldn't believe this was real.

Gaara breathed carefully so he wouldn't disturb the ethereal woman draped across his chest. Her cheek rested against his heart, and her arm held him sweetly in her sleep. Sakura seemed so peaceful--

'I'd like to disturb that peace.'

The redhead cringed at the grating voice. For some reason Shukaku always sounded like he was screaming.

'You can't have her--' Gaara began, but was quickly interrupted by a sharp headache.

'Then you can't have her either.' The tanuki snapped, forcing out his emotions through the redhead's body. The host wished that he had more control over the beast, but it seemed that they would forever be battling it out inside him. 'She made her terms, she wants to mate with us.'

Gaara winced in disgust over the idea of sharing her with the bijuu.

'We're not doing it. I wont let you hurt her.'

'What makes you think that I want to hurt her?! Fucking someone is not hurting them--!!'

'You'll be too rough on her. She is fragile, and delicate--'

A loud sinister laugh rang through his brain, it was so real that he could feel the reverb in his sinuses.

'Ha! You are an idiot if you think she's that breakable. When in the throws of passion she'll beg you to go harder, and you wont live up to her expectations.' Shukaku continued to laugh heartily, forcing the redhead to wither in irritation. 'And when you fail to satisfy her I will be there to set it right. She'll desire my pleasurable company more than yours--'

'You wont get that chance.' Gaara argued back, but then felt strange as the beast grew strangely still.

'She wants it. The only thing stopping us is your stubborn ass. So I suppose a bit of convincing will needed...' At first it seemed like Shukaku had decided to bow out for the time being, and as the redhead gave a sigh of relief he felt something pulse through him.

He knew the emotion, and he knew why the beast had decided to push that feeling upon him. Desire could drive a man mad.

Luckily for Gaara, he was no stranger to madness.

Sakura hummed, and rolled away from him in her sleep. His eyes wandered her bare shoulders, and the outline of her perfect figure under the thin sheets. Her pink hair was tousled from events prior as well as bed rest, making her look rough yet soft at the same time.

'Doesn't she look delicious? ' Shukaku purred gently, attempting to coax his host into making a large leap. 'You've done well up until this point, you've left her wanting--'

"Hnnn... Gaara..." The pinkette murmured in her sleep, her brows stitching together could be interpreted many ways. She could be having a nightmare, or it could be something much sweeter.

The redhead leaned over her to brush her hair out of her face. She hummed at the sensation, drawing his attention to her pouting lips. Absentmindedly, he ran his thumb softly along her bottom lip. The action had her parting her flushed petals, lightly mouthing over the digit while lazily licking at the pad.

'See? Even in her dreams she's begging for it. Hurry up, and let me fuck her--'

'How about you go fuck yourself, Shukaku?' Gaara had to hold back a snarl, and while he waited for the beast to attack his mind he found that the bijuu seemed to not be in the mood to fight.

'Fine, but you will regret this.'

That threat felt very real, and it was also suspicious that the tanuki didn't act out aggressively. The redhead knew he would have to be on his guard.

He decided to slip away for the time being, and perhaps work out his frustrations on the training grounds.

...... ----- ...... ------

When Gaara had made his way across the grounds he had discovered that his brother was already there working on his taijutsu. It was fortuitous for the redhead, as it was exactly what the doctor ordered.

They had fought, and Gaara had managed to move his body faster than his sand could keep up. It took a lot of work to get to that point, but he felt accomplished as he repeatedly beat out his own ultimate defense.

However, cockiness did not suit him well. A hit came too close too quickly, and he found himself slow to react. As the sand covered for him he outwardly cursed, throwing a punch at the hardened grains with bitterness.

"Heh! You gotta stay focused, Gaara!" Kankuro began to laugh loudly over the ordeal, however it was probably due to the small tantrum that the redhead was throwing.

Suddenly his laughing stopped, and a sly smile appeared on his painted face.

"Don't look now, but you got a little stalker round that corner over there." The puppet master gestured with his eyes, but his smile only grew bigger. "She's trying to be sneaky, you should give her a taste of her own medicine."

Gaara blinked for a moment before truly ingesting what he was saying. He felt out with the chakra in his sand, and pinpointed her location.

"Sorry, I guess we'll have to continue this another day." The redhead chuckled for a moment, but his brother seemed unbothered by it.

"Hey man, I get it. When your lady calls you gotta answer, and let me tell you that when your woman is asking for your company consider it a fucking gift." Kankuro let out another laugh before giving a slight wave.

The redhead nodded before using his sand to pull a rather sneaky prank. He dissipated into a cloud of sand then materialized behind her, watching with humor as she anxiously peered around the corner.

"Aw... no fun. I wanted to see him fight." Sakura whispered, but then stiffened as he took his first silent steps. He realized that his duster was rubbing against his pants, making a swishing noise that gave him away. He decided to make it fast, and snatched her from behind to pull her close. She squeaked at first, but quickly warmed to him.

"You snuck out, I see." Gaara hummed into her ear, and witnessed her tremble while giggling lowly. She tilted her head back wearing the smile of a troublemaker, for some odd reason her behavior was making him warm. "How very mischievous of you--"

"Hnnn, I was lonely. No mischief here." Sakura purred before turning to place her arms around his neck. Her body felt so slender in his hands, and yet her curves were obvious too. "Although, I did enjoy your sparring session. I didn't think you could move like that."

'She was studying me... how interesting...'

"I'm full of surprises." The redhead gave a half smile, and it seemed to make her bite her lip excitedly.

"Yes, so you've shown me a few times now." The pinkette let one hand come down to trail across his chest. "You have many tricks too... I was wondering if you could show me one soon?"

'She wants to see a trick? The only tricks I know unfortunately use sand--oh. Haha, okay. I get it. A trick. Well, I'm not an old dog just yet.' He mused to himself for a moment before staring her down.

"You want to see a trick?" The redhead gave a devilish smirk, and was pleased to see her shiver with anticipation.

"Hmm. See, feel, same difference right?" Sakura snickered for a moment, but he surprised her by forcing her up against the wall. His lips found hers in a matter of seconds with the intent to steal the breath from her lungs.

She was whimpering, scratching, and shifting against him sensually. It took a great amount of willpower to keep himself from crushing her with his insatiable appetite. However, her eager tongue sliding against his own had him moving subconsciously. He felt her soft skin on her thigh first before bravely sliding his hand up her skirt.

"Mmm!--- Gaara! No! Bad!" Sakura broke out of his enchanting kiss to scold him, but it only fueled his flames.

"Too much? Or is it that you don't want to be seen?" Gaara's charcoal lined eyes narrowed knowingly before his hand gave a firm squeeze to her bottom. Her small squeak had him smirking. "It's not unheard of for Suna citizens to show affection in public. Sometimes they can be rather graphic in their displays--"

"I am not fucking you outside." The pinkette narrowed her eyes back at him with a withered expression, leaving him flustered and dumbfounded.

'Was she... actually thinking about it? And she said she wouldn't do it 'outside' so does that mean she would not mind it behind closed doors?' His head was thrown for a loop for a moment before he shook himself out of it.

"I didn't say they go that far..." He looked off to the side, his bravado quickly fading under a wash of anxiousness. He didn't know if he could handle her answer, be it 'no' or even 'yes'. "Is that... why you came here?"

He heard a snickering within him, forcing him to realize that this situation was beginning to turn south.

She shifted on her feet with a coy expression, looking him up and down with an interest he wasn't used to.

"Well, I was hoping you'd still be in bed when I woke up this morning. I really just wanted to cuddle--"

The laughter grew.

"O-oh... I see..." Gaara shivered for a moment before biting his lip. "I'm... I'm sorry I was not there when you woke up. I know you don't like being in that room alone."

'Gaara~' Shukaku called from the depths, making him bristle.

"That room is meant to have at least two people occupying it. Don't you think?" Sakura played with the buttons on his maroon coat near his neck, forcing him to swallow hard at her closeness.

It was becoming dangerous, he had to turn her off to him for the time being.

"You said you didn't like being in there because it makes you feel like a... whore..." The redhead didn't want to use that word, but he knew of its negativity, and felt it would be enough to get her to put space between them--

"Well, I'm sorry if this hurts the image you painted of me... but I don't mind playing that part for you once in a while. Is that okay?"

Gaara almost gaped at her, but somehow managed to keep his mouth closed despite the shocking content.

Suddenly the redhead could feel her hands in his hair, forcing him into a physical space he knew he would have difficulty returning from. Bellowing maniacal laughter erupted inside of him, Shukaku was acting as if this were the most hysterical turn of events imaginable.

'I TOLD YOU!! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!! Look at that face!! She wants it so bad, you should take her back to your room--'

Gaara tried to collect himself with a deep breath, but he ended up nodding in agreement to what the beast was telling him. However, a slight giggle quickly brought him back to her.

"I'm so glad you approve, I was worried that you might grow tired of me." She swayed seductively on her feet, and his brain began to feel fuzzy yet also frantic.

'Don't worry, kid. If she didn't want a freak then she wouldn't be interested in you. Own it.' While the bijuu's words were meant to be endearing, Gaara couldn't help but find it to be a backhanded compliment.

"No, its adorable. I like your enthusiasm." Sakura swayed with him lovingly, obviously trusting him a bit too much.

Didn't she realize just how much he was holding back? With Shukaku pushing extra sensations on top of his already ridiculous lust for her, he felt as if he were going a bit crazed. He didn’t want to revert back to what he was before he met her.

She was staring off, why?

"Sakura?" The redhead brought his hand to her chin to raise up her gaze. Her sight locked onto his, and looked lost as well as a bit mournful.

"I'm so sorry..." The pinkette trembled, and took his face into her hands. He felt his chest tighten with the thought of impending doom. "I hated you once, and I'm sorry I did not take the time to see who you truly were. You're such a beautiful person--"

He remained unblinking, and for the first time in years he felt enough pain in his chest that it started to form in his eyes. However, the pain was bittersweet. He felt healed by her words, while also remembering the hurt he felt during the awful memories.

Shukaku said absolutely nothing, but the redhead could feel him watching the whole scene unfold.

"Don't just... suddenly say things like that. I'm not prepared for it." Gaara gave a shaking laugh, still working out the emotions wracking his body. "I'm sorry too, for being a complete ass of a child--"

"Eh?! You weren't an ass! You sure were broody though." Sakura snickered, leaving him interested. "I didn't like your attitude back then, but now when I see it I feel a little differently."

"How so?" He accidentally sniffled for a moment, and inwardly cringed. When she didn’t answer right away he felt he might have screwed up. "Sakura?"

"Oh, well, the brooding thing... I don't really know how to explain it. You just have that 'bad boy' vibe, but you're actually a sweetheart underneath." Sakura giggled, but the terms 'brooding' and 'bad boy' had him a bit suspicious.

'Like I said, she's not wanting you to be gentle with her. She wants it hard--'

'Shut the hell up! No one asked you!' The redhead inwardly yelled at his monstrous counterpart, but all it did was make the tanuki chuckle.

He chose to ignore him.

"I did a lot more than just 'brood'. I murdered a lot of people... I still do, unfortunately." Gaara thought of all of the leaf ninja he had been putting down, and instantly felt the weight of their deaths on his conscience.

'She will never forgive me when I tell her how many I have killed--'

'Then don't tell her. It's better if she doesn't know.'

"Do you want to change that? You can, you know?" Sakura smiled for him, and he felt the guilt seep even further.

"No. I can't change it. It will always happen, no matter what I say. The full moon is the worst for me... he craves blood." Gaara scowled, and the bijuu practically giggled at the attention.

"Spend the full moon with me then."

His eyes found hers in disbelief, yet her resolve stayed strong.

'Ah-ha... she's curious... Gaara, you should grant her wish--!'

"I could kill you." The redhead ignored Shukaku, his only concern was for her welfare.

"You won't. You can take out your frustrations in other ways, Gaara. You know you have that option now that you have a girlfriend, right?"

'Girlfriend--?' Gaara was completely dumbfounded once more, his only action was to blink and breathe.

'--As in the term for courtship. She's accepting you as her mate. Humans call it dating, boyfriend and girlfriend. However, it is a monogamous courtship. It's best if you don't chase other females while invested with this one--'

'I wasn't planning on it!!' The redhead seethed inwardly, getting a laugh for his trouble.

'Spoken like a true tanuki. We mate for life.'

While Gaara was usually pissed off at the bijuu, he found the beast to not be so awful in view of actual lasting relationships. It seemed that he did not actually want to hurt Sakura, but his crassness was still off-putting.

'Mating for life... with my... girlfriend.' The redhead blushed for a moment before meeting her eyes. They seemed happy...

"Girlfriend--?"

"Yeah... um... sorry, you don't have to call me that if you dont want to--" She seemed embarrassed, and he didn't want that at all. He truly enjoyed the idea of it.

"Ah! No! I like it... truly." As he smiled at her she returned it twofold. Her brightness drew him in instantly, and he couldn't keep himself from kissing her gently.

He placed every ounce of affection into it, and she melted almost instantly.

'So. What's the verdict? Are we doing this? ' Shukaku ruined the moment for him, but he continued kissing her regardless.

'I refuse. You can't have her. She's mine.' Gaara knew that an inner fight was about to break out, but when a dark chuckle rattled through his skull he felt himself grow a bit nervous. It was rare for the tanuki to not be screeching.

'Stupid boy. It's funny that you think you have a choice.'

--- ... ---- .... ---- .... ----

He was sweating, which was a rare occurrence as he rarely overexerted himself, but he knew it had nothing to do with working too hard.

The shinobi in front of him was sweating too, but it was because the redhead had just gotten done torturing him. The man looked a little familiar, but not enough for Gaara to know his name.

"Heh... are you... getting sick... or something?" The tan-skinned man coughed up some blood, and a metallic smell filled the room leaving the redhead dizzy. "You're... sweating..."

"It's been a rough day." Gaara answered him honestly before grabbing a chair. He sat down in front of the shinobi, he seemed to have kind eyes.

The redhead looked over his handiwork, noting that the man was defenseless as he was tied up to his own respective chair. He wasn't mangled, but he would be sore and/or sick later.

"What's your name?" Gaara asked gently, he did this frequently now as he wanted to know if Sakura knew these people. However the man managed to laugh despite the conditions.

"Why do... you need to... know?" The shinobi wheezed slightly, showing his fatigue after every word.

"There's a girl from your village that I am involved with. I like to know your names in case she is acquainted with any of you. If she does know you it could save your life--"

"What's... her name?" The tan-skinned man seemed serious then, almost worried, but Gaara would not play into his demands until his own were met.

"You first." The redhead crossed his legs, and leaned back in his chair while he waited. Surprisingly it didn't take long to get an answer.

"Iruka. My name... is Iruka..." The shinobi shivered, as if it were a name he was not proud of. Perhaps he was just reading too much into it. "The girl... please... I need a name--"

"Sakura Haruno." Gaara answered instantly, watching curiously as the man went pale.

"S-Sakura... where is she?!" His ghostly face began to change then, he started to turn red with rage. "IF YOU.... HURT HER--!!!!"

"I would never hurt her. I assure you, she is safest in my care. No one will touch her." The redhead blinked for a moment, realizing that this man seemed to be close to Sakura. "How do you know her?"

"I taught at the academy.... she was my student... the brightest one..." Iruka's breath heaved then, and tears started to fall from his eyes. "Please, spare her.... You can take.... what you want from me... just please..."

"Like I said, no harm will ever come to her. Not while I still breathe." Gaara had never been one to reassure people, but for some reason he wanted this man to feel better.

It was because Sakura knew him, and was probably fond of this person. He was kind for a shinobi, and not made for war it seemed.

"Why protect her.... why you of all people?" Iruka panted with exhaustion, his eyes were beginning to droop as well.

The old Gaara would have been offended by such a question, but he understood it now. The redhead was known for being a heartless killing machine, he was created for that purpose. However, he wanted to change that. He wanted to break free from the cage this village had placed him in.

Gaara uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He took calming breaths as the former teacher watched him through weary eyes.

"I am in love with her." The redhead admitted it out loud, and to a stranger no less. The man before him seemed to stare in wonder at him now, as if it were the most peculiar thing to happen.

"Yet... you murder... her people--" Iruka spoke softly, but Gaara felt that the older shinobi should know better in such times.

"War is funny that way, don't you think?" The redhead then felt scrutiny from the former teacher, and looked to the floor dejectedly.

"I don't... think it's funny... at all." Iruka huffed then, gaining back a bit of spunk.

Gaara liked this man. For some reason he seemed very much like a kind father, or older brother. He wanted to help him if he could.

At that thought, he rose up from his seat to cross the room. On a small table was a bucket of water with a ladle, and the redhead took both in hand to bring back over to his captive. The leaf shinobi frowned in confusion, but did not reject the water from the ladle as Gaara brought it to his lips.

He drank the liquid greedily, and the redhead let him drink until he was completely satisfied. It seemed to bring more life into the Iruka's face, which made Gaara feel a bit better about the situation.

"Thank you. I can see why she likes you... you're actually just misunderstood." The leaf shinobi's voice was clearer now, and he seemed more relaxed.

However, he was wrong in assuming that the redhead was some sort of sheep in wolf's clothing.

"Everyone is right to be afraid of me, I was not merciful until I met her--"

"That may be so, but the fact remains that you had that ability to love inside you all this time." Iruka said it boldly, as if he had so much experience on the matter. "There's a boy I care about, he reminds me of you. He's a jinchuriki too."

Gaara paled, it was unheard of for people outside of his close circle to openly talk of the beasts, and the shinobi did not fail to notice his discomfort.

"I will not judge you for being a jinchuriki, you did not choose to be one just as the tailed beasts did not choose to have human hosts. It's merely poor luck on both sides." Iruka took a breath before continuing, still fatigued from the tortures he had recieved.

"However, I will judge you for your crimes. Those are things you could have prevented. It is okay to feel, and it is okay to be hurt, but it's how you react to such things that make you what you are."

'Heh, he's quite wise for being so young. He doesn't look to be past thirty...' Shukaku murmured inside of the redhead, and his host had to agree with him.

"It's never too late to atone for your sins--"

"Sounds like you're trying to convince me to let you go." Gaara smirked, and surprisingly recieved it back.

"It's the end for me. I won't last much longer in this cell, and I've already made my peace... but if I can save her then my death will have at least a little bit of meaning." The former teacher let out a long breath, it seemed his energy had run out. "She deserves to be happy..."

"She is happy. I make sure of that." The redhead stated it a bit to cockily for the other man's tastes, gaining a withered look for the comment.

"Are you sure about that? Is she truly happy here? She deserves to be free--"

"She is free--"

"So she can go be with her people whenever she pleases? Because I'm sure that's not the case." Iruka was quick to bite down on any answer Gaara gave, however the redhead couldn't necessarily say he was wrong either.

'I kept her prisoner at first... does she think she can't leave? Does she stay because she wants to, or is it because she feels she has to?' Gaara inwardly raked through his thoughts, trying to cling to things that he wasn't sure were real feelings or not.

"If she were to tell you that she loved someone else, would you let her go?" The leaf shinobi murmured, but it still felt as if the comment was meant to be screamed. Or at least it felt that way inside the redhead's rattled mind.

'Don't let him fool you, that girl is infatuated with you--' Shukaku tried to console his host, which was very off-putting.

'I have to see her...' Gaara started to feel neurotic, he had to know if she was truly his or not. If not, could he let her go? Or would he break everything first? 'I don't want to lose her--'

'Then make her yours. Go and claim her like a true mate.'

"I have to go." The redhead spoke outwardly this time, obviously distraught in how he thought and moved. He turned tail for the door.

"You should ask her what she wants." Iruka called out gently, but Gaara refused to acknowledge him as he left.

------ …… --------

Gaara made his way to the library trailing her scent alone. For some reason every part of him felt heightened, all the way down to his tracking senses. As he approached the door a ruckus could be heard inside. The door was cracked open, so he slipped in silently to check out the disturbance.

Kankuro and Sakura were on the floor... She was laying on top of him...

Suddenly he was seeing white, his heart felt like it was going to implode in his tightening chest--

The pinkette scrambled away from his brother with a look of fear, and he wondered if they noticed his presence.

"I didn't mean to freak you out, sorry about that--" Kankuro began, but she quickly shook her head at him. However, the puppeteer seemed to notice the strange aura in the room, and looked at the redhead in a state of ghostly fear.

"No, it's fine. It's just that Gaara would probably kill you if he saw me laying on top of you." Sakura laughed until she noticed that Kankuro was not looking at her.

For some reason Gaara couldn't control it any longer, the sand from his gourd was pouring onto the floor to spread out in sandy veins. She turned just in time to see his rage flourish.

'Kill him. He's trying to steal your mate--' Shukaku practically purred, and the redhead let his jealousy overwhelm him as well.

"You are correct, Sakura. I would most definitely kill him." Gaara was shaking, and his breath felt hot as it left his nostrils. "I hope for both your sakes that what you said isn't true--"

"I fell on him. He was teasing me so I went to hit him, then he backed up and tripped. I unfortunately went down with him, there was nothing more than that. Put your sand away." The pinkette was stern, and absolutely fearless in the face of Gaara's wrath while his own brother was sitting there looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

'She's taking this too lightly, assert your dominance.' The tanuki barked, and the redhead listened.

"Gaara--"

"I'm not in the mood to put my sand away." Gaara bared his teeth at her, but he felt odd when she didn't seem to back down.

"She's telling the truth, Gaara. I was trying to get gossip on what you guys do together and she didn't like it. It was my bad--" Kankuro argued, but quickly shut his mouth when two burning coals turned on him.

"So you started it? You already have your own harem going, so stay away from my mate!" Gaara hissed, and his sand twitched at the ready to attack.

Sakura got to her feet with a glare, closing the distance fast to pull on his arm. He stared at her curiously as she yank him forward into a painful kiss.

'Well... that was interesting...'

'Shut up!!!' The redhead hissed inwardly before feeling a bit lost as her lips left him. She seemed furious.

"If you think I'd cheat on you, let alone with your brother, or that he'd ruin his relationship with you just to sleep with me than you are a fucking moron." The pinkette snarled.

'A... fucking... moron?' As he digested her words she attempted to dramatically turn tail to leave, and without thinking to hard he locked her ankles in sand to keep her from moving. She looked back at him in disbelief, but he felt smug in the fact that he would always be stronger than her.

"Would you leave us? I need to speak with her alone." Gaara looked back to his brother with a tight expression, and luckily Kankuro knew that face well enough to get the hell out of there.

As the doors clicked shut the redhead's sights turned back on her, and he approached her with power in each step.

At first Gaara had wanted to see how she felt about him, but now he was too blind to even do that.

No, he was going to show her that he was the alpha. He was going to give her what she had so teasingly asked for.

Sakura was going to take what he gave her, and she was going to love every second of it.

Part 10

"Hey there!" Kankuro hollered over to Sakura from the other side of the library. She looked away from shelf to find him waltzing in with his usual cocky swagger, and it was exaggerated enough to make her laugh.

The sun was currently setting through the tall stained windows putting the area in a state of magical twilight. The pinkette loved the large library, it was the most beautiful place in the whole sandstone manor.

However, the mood was quickly ruined. She thought that she had been the only one in this wing, but she was quickly reminded that she and Gaara were not the only ones who lived here.

The redhead unfortunately had a small mission that he had to do, which was totally fine, at least she had free reign of the space now, and he should be done soon.

"Hi, Kankuro. How are you?" She smiled sweetly for the puppeteer, and he returned the smile twofold.

"I'm great, and it looks like my baby brother ain't doing too bad either--"

"Is that so?" Sakura turned to ignore his curious stare in favor of focusing on her book, obviously he was digging for some sort of gossip.

"Saw you two making out. Rather heatedly I'd say." Kankuro waggled his brows at her, and she scoffed in return.

"Oops, you caught us. Oh nooo." The pinkette said sarcastically before breaking out into a laugh. "What of it?"

"I'm just surprised is all! Gaara has been making all sort of positive changes, it's really nice. He actually acts like a brother now." The puppeteer grinned ear to ear, and while it made her happy it also made her feel a bit embarrassed over the strange attention. "So, you guys going steady--?"

"Eh!?! We only just--- no, we are not going steady. We just like each other." Sakura huffed before putting back a medical book that she had been reading.

"He's totally in love with you. You do realize that, right?" Kankuro was trying to be sly, but was obvious about the fact that he wanted more details. She raised a brow at him before sighing.

"That's sweet of you to say, but he had told me quite forwardly that he did not love me. That it wasn't like that--"

"Was that before you guys fooled around, or after?" He interjected, and she distractedly answered.

"After, but--- wait a damn minute!! How dare you!!" The pinkette seethed, and started to smack at the puppeteer who was now cackling as he blocked her blows.

"I knew it!!! I knew it!!" The more he rubbed it in the harder she punched. Suddenly he snatched up both of her wrists, and held them perfectly still. "Gaara was totally in denial before, but I can fucking see it! He realizes that he loves you, and that's why he's acting so funny!"

"I don't care! Stop messing around with other people's relationships!" Sakura barked, growing more nervous as his smile turned sinister.

"Relationship? Oooo!!" Kankuro teased, and in her full blown irritation she decided to lunge off of her feet to push him in the sternum with her shoulder. They wrestled for a moment, but then they both tripped over a heavy stack of books that she had made on the floor before he showed up. Somehow he flipped them so that he would take the brunt of the fall.

The pinkette could feel the puppeteer breathing hard underneath her, and in a panic she immediately scrambled off and away from him. He looked over at her in confusion, his head tilting at her strange behavior.

"I didn't mean to freak you out, sorry about that--" He began, but she quickly shook her head.

"No, it's fine. It's just that Gaara would probably kill you if he saw me laying on top of you." Sakura laughed, but his face grew a bit pale. She was about to console him when she noticed that he had been looking right past her.

There was a dead silence there, until she heard the shifting of grains against the floor.

"You are correct, Sakura. I would most definitely kill him." His tone was so incredibly malicious that she could practically hear the fire coming out of his nostrils. "I hope for both your sakes that what you said isn't true--"

When the sand continued to wave around like snakes on the floor her eyes narrowed at him.

"Gaara--"

"I'm not in the mood to put my sand away." The redhead growled, his jealousy was definitely a weak point for him.

"So you started it? You already have your own harem going, so stay away from my mate!" Gaara hissed, and it was pissing off Sakura to the point that she quickly got to her feet. He stared at her with hints of confusion while her hand reached out to yank him by the arm. She pulled him forward almost violently into a painful kiss.

The room was silent, the sand went completely still as she took his breath away. When she broke away from him with a glare his expression grew even more confused.

"If you think I'd cheat on you, let alone with your brother, or that he'd ruin his relationship with you just to sleep with me than you are a fucking moron." The pinkette snarled at him before she began to storm off, however her ankles soon got caught up in his sand. She looked back at the redhead incredulously, and he simply looked over to his brother with an apathetic expression.

"Would you leave us? I need to speak with her alone." The redhead's voice was tight, as if he were holding back a great deal of rage . The puppet master nodded quickly, obviously believing that he would not kill her, and hurriedly left the library.

As the doors clicked shut his sights turned back on her, and he approached her with his fully intimidating gate.

"I'm a fucking moron now? That's such an endearing pet name--!" Gaara snapped at her, and while she was getting anxious over it she still kept her demeanor strong.

"Yes, and you're still living up to it quite nicely right now." She remained calm and cool while his rage overflowed. He closed the distance, standing merely inches away.

"You had better watch what you say to me--" The redhead began to threaten, but her temper flared.

"Mm, no. Don't think so. I'm not a normally submissive woman, Gaara. You know this. I'm not just going to roll over, and take it!" As he came closer Sakura ended up snatching him up by his maroon collar. His eyes watched her with the carefulness of a predator. "You need to back off--!"

"And you need to roll over... and take it..." While Gaara had merely repeated what she had said before, his eyes had changed rather quickly from rage to something a bit more curious. His tone had also grown from angered to husky in a matter of seconds as well. "I can't take it anymore--!"

Sakura jumped a bit at his sudden outburst, and even more as his lips crashed into hers.

Suddenly the redhead was pawing at her desperately, and the sand holding her feet slithered away as he pushed her back against a large desk. There was a break in the bruising kiss, but the second she had to breathe was the same second that he had to lift her up.

"H-hey!! Wait a second--!!" She screeched, feeling his larger hands grip under her backside.

"No, I can't." Gaara shook his head quickly before setting her down on the desk's surface. It was another short moment before he started desperately tugging at the black shorts under her dress.

"Gaara, wait!!" The pinkette squeaked, feeling the pressure was suddenly on her way too fast. When he had successfully pulled the shorts as well as her underwear away she quickly tried to cover herself with the bottom of her dress. How he was so skilled in taking off her clothes was a mystery, or perhaps just a natural talent.

"I told you, I can't---no, I wont take this anymore! You can have whatever you want just---!" The redhead took a sharp breath, and attempted to compose himself.

His body was trembling with an emotion she knew was foreign to him. He had obviously lusted after her before, but this seemed almost like madness. However, she knew it wasn't completely unheard of for men to go through fits like these. She had just never experienced it first hand.

Shaking his head wildly again he pulled her flush against him, and she felt the hardness in his pants grinding against her naked heat. It shocked her over how aroused he was without any sort of foreplay to urge it on. He moved so firmly against her that he was giving soft grunts of pleasure rather than straight moans, running on the machine called instinct.

She shouldn't have been turned on by it, if anything this was shameful behavior on his part, but somehow he had dragged her into the thick of his lustful fog. His insane desire for her was flattering, and made her hot all over.

Delicate hands were quickly clawing at his back, and she panted hard onto his shoulder. Soon her legs were wrapping around his hips, wishing he would just unfasten his pants--

Hold on now, was she really going to lose her virginity like this? In a library of all places? Why was it happening so quickly?

Why did she want it so badly too?

"All day... damn you.... all fucking day I thought about it..." His grinding grew more intense, forcing her to cry from the hard pressure on her sex. "I saw you... I saw you with Kankuro... and my first thought was on how I should have taken your offer immediately... and marked you--"

"Gaara, nothing... happened...." Sakura ended up panting out her last word, and it strangely had him shaking again.

"I know! I know that... but it was so raw... I can feel it even now... I need you to belong to me. I need you to know that I am the best mate for you." Gaara's tone was primal as he slipped his hand between them, the buckle on his belt clicked around as he tried to unfasten it with one hand. "You will know it... and once I have shown you my prowess you will desire no other man."

‘Wow….’ She was in disbelief. Who was this man in front of her now? It wasn't the normal Gaara that was a bit of a shy closet perv…

No, this Gaara was an intense lover with a carnal craving that was highly contagious. She could feel the heat radiating off of his coat, he was burning so brightly.

Suddenly she found herself reaching down fast to help him do it even though she was ultimately anxious of this moment. However, he wanted her so much that the feeling was imprinting on her. Her blood was searing in her veins as his eyes turned predatory, making her feel like the game that he hunted.

Only this chase would not give way to death, but something sweet, and just as consuming.

The pinkette could tell she was already wet for him, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest as the buckle slid skillfully through her delicate hands. He slowed down to watch her with bated breaths as she reached beneath his waistband, grabbing at his erection with complete surrender. A low moan emerged from his throat while his dark lids clamped shut.

"I can smell it on you... you're craving me--" The redhead's length was released. He primed it against her wet folds slowly, breathing heatedly through a bitten lip. As she trembled from the slick sensation he rolled his hips against hers, gaining a whine of approval for his efforts. "I can feel it too... your flesh speaks to me... I know your secrets."

‘A beast, and a poet.’ The fact of it had her swooning.

His haunting eyes weren't anywhere but on her own, staring into the windows of her soul while he moved against her. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered around, her lashes growing lidded with a burning need to kiss him.

As her mouth slanted against his own Sakura felt him hum lowly. What was desperate before was now turning hypnotic now that they both knew that they would eventually get what they desired. She already felt herself growing close just from how his burning erection slid against her sacred bundle of nerves. A mewl escaped her, causing him to break away with a devilish smirk.

"If you keep doing that I won't be able to stop myself--" Gaara attempted to tease, but that time had long since passed. She was more than prepared for him now.

"I don't want you to stop." The pinkette panted for him, and although he already seemed more than aroused his face flushed further. A bit of his innocence returned, more so when she couldn't control her hips from undulating against the underside of his length. A sharp whine slipped out of her, and she felt his hands pulling her even harder against himself.

"Use me.... Use me to get you there." The redhead's eyes glazed over, and while she could tell he wanted to moan at her pleasurable enthusiasm she also knew that he was holding back. He puffed heatedly, his eyes locking onto hers before darting down to where they moved against each other. He seemed completely entranced by it all, and it had her pleasure thrumming rapidly.

"I'm so close--" Sakura started to whine harshly, causing his eyes to break away from the enticing show before him to take in her expression. He swallowed, and licked his lips before giving a harsh exhale.

"That's it... keep going..." Gaara reached up to move her tousled pink hair out of her eyes. His hand held her jaw with his fingers wrapping just under her ear. His breath quaked as he ran his thumb over the bottom lip of her whining mouth. He made sure to keep her lips parted with the digit, forcing her to remain audible for his visual and musical enjoyment. "I want you to break... and scream hard--"

"Gaara! Please!!" The pinkette's hips grew desperate, finding that she was the only one picking up speed. While his breathing increased the most that she could get out of him was a strangled whimper. She could feel the pleasure pounding through her whole frame, her legs wrapping painfully tight around him as she pushed herself to give him what he wanted.

"Yes. Beg for it... cry... scream--" His voice beckoned to her, and while she was moaning wantonly with each slide of his hips, it was his last words that had her completely undone. He leaned in, a hairs width away from her panting mouth to make a finite command. "Cum for me..."

The redhead was on a whole other level than her, and his overpowering words had her shuddering as her orgasm approached so fast it blindsided her.

Everything he wanted he got from her. She begged, she cried, she screamed in a pitch that was too high, and she tensed hard as she came.

It was relentless, unforgiving, and spectacular. She kept hearing his breathy laughs as her cries refused to dim or let up. The intense pressure of his hips on her sex was forcing her climax to pound on her continuously, leaving her in tears as she wailed through it.

She was in a frozen state by the end of it, turned to stone yet heaving her breath as she tried to get herself out of it, but her lover wasn't necessarily the kindest of people. He snickered as he kept his ridiculous force on her.

"I bet we could push you further..." Gaara panted excitedly, and she tried shaking her head in response before her body started to shudder from the overuse of her raw nerves. She felt numb, but in the best way possible.

At the sight of her violent trembling the redhead finally let up, and held her up right instead of having her do it for herself. His arms were comforting, and strong.

She could feel his erection pulsing, begging for the attention it had just lost. This was far from over.

"You look so beautiful like that... it looked painful too... you came so hard…" Gaara had leaned in to whisper in her ear, sending her into another wave of violent shivers. “I bet it felt incredible--"

"S-stop..." Sakura tried turning from him, but his hands grew adventurous. With one wrapped around her frame the other groped at her chest.

“I know you want more.” His smug grin ghosted over her skin to kiss at her cheek before forcing her to kiss him full on. She squirmed slightly, feeling a bit too overwhelmed by everything around her, but once again he was merciless. He bit her lip playfully before pulling away.

"How wet are you, do you know?" The redhead asked breathlessly, his hand smoothing down her front until it nestled between her legs. With his eyes locked on hers his smug grin only grew bigger once he had his answer. It spurred her to wriggle in his grip with embarrassment, and while she struggled he let out a genuine laugh. "Don't be like that... I like it. It means it felt good, right--?"

"Stop it!" The pinkette blushed and wailed while attempting to push him away, but it only made him more mischievous. Three fingers slipped inside her, leaving her whimpering in anxiety, and in pleasure. "N-no!!"

"Ssh, I just want to make you feel good--" Before Gaara could really set himself to work she grabbed at his length, and began stroking him firmly. His whole body tensed as a youthful moan escaped him. "That's cheating."

"Beg, cry, scream... cu--." Sakura panted out the words, but before she could say the final piece his mouth formed over her own in a passionate kiss. Their hands abandoned their tasks in favor of clinging to each other.

She could feel him trembling under her gentle touches, and wondered if perhaps all this bravado was out of sheer nerves.

He was using words she had never heard him say before, nor did she think he even knew what they were or what they meant.

Perhaps he wasn't as innocent as she thought. That ideation had her breaking away rather quickly.

"What's wrong?" The redhead asked, and it made her blush in the realization of what she actually wanted to ask him.

"Have you... done this before?" The pinkette spoke just above a whisper, unable to find her courage for such a poorly timed question. She knew it could go so many ways, especially south.

"I've kissed you many times--"

"That's not what I'm asking!" Sakura squeaked, and he blinked at her in confusion. Obviously he still had that rather clueless streak. "Have you... um... 'made love' before?"

It felt so cheesy coming out of her mouth. 'Making love', it was a laughably childish way of thinking about it. Or at least that's what she told herself.

"...You mean intercourse, yes?" Gaara rose his naked brows up, attempting to confirm what she was asking of him. When she nodded he looked off to the side. "Does it matter?"

'Does it matter... does it matter!?! Is he serious!?!' Her inner voice was screeching.

"Yes! I'd like to know where you've been, thank you very much!" The pinkette huffed, and for a moment his face twisted up strangely before he broke out into a genuine laugh. It had her shocked to say the least.

"I've been to a place called nowhere. I've lived there my whole life." The redhead chuckled, unable to contain his humor as she stared at him completely dumbstruck. "It has never rained in my desert. Forgive my inexperience."

That had to be the weirdest way she had ever heard someone refer to themselves as a virgin. Yet, she found it oddly adorable.

"So you're a virgin? For real?" Sakura pressed, and while her fingertips kneaded the tops of his shoulders he still seemed rather uncomfortable. His expression twisted again awkwardly before turning away.

"Please don't make me say it out loud. It's not something I like to boast about--" Gaara cleared his throat as he continued to look off to the side, but she was not going to spare his pride. It was his turn to be flustered.

"Why? I think it's cute." The pinkette traced his jaw with her fingers, and to her delight he ended up clenching it under her gentle touch.

"That's not a compliment--" He huffed bitterly, but she knew that no matter how she treated him now there was no going back for him. This was her chance.

"I don't really care if you see it as a compliment or an insult. I think you're cute... and it turns me on..." Sakura turned his face to look at her, giving him the most sultry look that she could muster. His flushing cheeks only seemed to darken. "That's what really matters, right? That I want you inside me--"

"What a dangerous thing to say, I could take you at any time." The redhead's coal rimmed eyes narrowed threateningly, but she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"Then stop stalling, I want you to do it." Her thighs moved against the sides of his hips, coiling around him like a seductive snake. His lips parted, letting out soft pants of desire.

The final nail in the coffin, she had the perfect words to undo him.

"Gaara... I need you inside me.... please..." The pinkette pleaded desperately.

A sharp exhale left him as if his soul had been sucked out, only to be replaced by something more primal. His eyes looked far more hazy then they usually did, even in his more ravenous moments. The haunting orbs roamed her frame, as did his smooth pale hands; gripping her curves and mounds with a dream-like anticipation.

"As you wish..." Gaara's relaxed lips murmured softly, his fingers pushing her skirt up to clearly reveal her lower half. His breathing seemed too calm, even while his palms explored her bare skin his composure was far too entranced. He seemed to be under a spell.

"Gaara..." Sakura's tone was a worried one. She had never seen him act so out of it before. The touching felt good, but his attitude was so different that the touches only made her feel more exposed. She tried maneuvering herself backwards to get some space between them, but his pale hands gripped hard at her hips to yank her back to him.

The redhead snarled at her like a feral animal, his canines showed as he pulled his lips back. It frightened her more than she thought it would. He noticed her expression, and as soon as it was made clear to him his demeanor relaxed once more. He leaned in while pulling her up to him, and bit her neck gently.

The pinkette squeaked for a moment, and at the tone he scraped his teeth against her jugular. Her body jolted from the sensation, but his arm around her waist held her completely captive.

"This is your last chance... I can stop now... but if you tell me otherwise I will not stop even if you beg me too..." He huffed huskily into her ear, making her heart race anxiously. "Even if it hurts you... I can't stop it.... so end it now--"

"Gaara... please… you have my permission." Her fingers tangled in his hair, clenching onto the locks out of fear, but she knew it had to be now. She felt his breath shudder, and his body tensed up even though he was still rubbing her down.

'Like ripping off a bandaid... I just have to end it quickly.' She convinced herself, and tried to relax as much as possible. 'Relax, and just let it go...'

Gaara paused for a moment, composing himself before she felt the tip of him at her entrance. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding at a rabbit's pace.

"I love you." He whispered, and it had her heart skipping a beat.

Before she could even truly ingest his words he slid his burning length inside of her. Her body clenched up as he entered, forcing her to lean forward to bite down on his clothed shoulder, and cry out painfully through her teeth. He slurred a curse, slowly pulling out of her before pushing back in.

"Gaara!" Sakura cried sharply both in white hot agony and slight pleasure. He filled her to the brim painfully, but it also felt strangely intoxicating.

He pulled out slowly again, and then slammed back in. Another pained whine escaped her, and it was louder than the first. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and she met him with each thrust. It hurt, but the pain was starting fade into pleasure once he would rest for a few seconds inside of her, and allowed her to relax before moving again.

"You... feel so good..." The redhead's voice shook breathlessly before he went in for a much needed kiss. She whined against his lips as he continued his slow yet intense pace. "Are you alright?"

"Yes..." The pinkette whimpered, and as another thrust had her pain and pleasure mingling she felt a tear slip down her cheek, regardless of how she truly felt. He was quick to lick it away, and even quicker to place his freshly tear wetted lips to her own.

They breathed through open mouth kisses, panting against each others lips as they moved. With one arm wrapped firmly around her waist to hold her steady the other clenched under her lifted leg, pulling on her for added force. He was moving slowly, but it was so intense that each slam of his hips had her lashes fluttering, her breath gasping for oxygen, and her body trembling. However, his hard grip on her entire body was comforting.

Soon the feeling of pain melted away, leaving nothing but a raw desire for him to continue moving inside her. She wanted more, and decided to beg him for it.

"Gaara... please... go harder--" The second her words were said he slammed into her so hard the desk shook. With a shudder he did it again, and a harsh cry left her throat. Suddenly his pace picked up, and her whole body rocked with the amount of force he placed on her.

There was so much noise, the desk was creaking underneath her, and she felt scared that someone might hear them. He needed to slow down, or else she was going to scream...

"You're so beautiful.... Sakura... my Sakura..." Gaara panted lovingly, and possessively. His hips were moving at an intensity that she couldn't keep up with. Eventually he slowed, but it was only to guide her arms around his neck. "Hold onto me..."

Sakura nodded, and let him move her however he wanted. She clung to him in desperation as both of his hands gripped her hips almost painfully. That's when it became the end for her.

Holding her in a vice grip he began thrusting into her at a frantic pace, and had she not been holding onto him for dear life she knew he would have pushed her right off of the surface of the desk.

The pinkette cried out against his shoulder, ecstasy in her tone as she felt her limbs begin to go weak and numb.

Gaara was relentless, and powerful as he moved with a physical skill she didn't expect from him. She cursed repeatedly, not knowing proper words to say to convey how good it felt, and he seemed to repeat them back to her in his own gruff and breathless tone.

Together they were climbing, and when she started to fall over the edge he put in everything that he had to make her ending that much sweeter.

Sakura prayed. Her body felt like it was going to pass out with the intense waves of pleasure. They were merciless, crashing through her core and up her back to the top of her head. Colors began to blur together in a haze, and she felt herself begin to go deaf from the sound of blood rushing through her ears and veins.

Her last scream had her shaking like a single leaf on a tree in a vicious sandstorm. Sweat dripped down her brow as pang after pang of raw pleasure struck her from the inside. It burned her white hot, and down to ashes. Slowly she felt herself come out of it, but he was still rocking into her fiercely.

The redhead let out a near painful sound, practically shouting through his clenched teeth as he pulled out of her to pulse his essence onto her swollen folds. He shivered almost as much as she did, his muscles twitching from overexertion while he raced to try to catch his breath. Breathing frantically, but deeply, he let out a few remaining whimpers that were clinging stubbornly inside of him.

He was sweating, his pale skin glistening with flushed cheeks and lips. His crimson locks clung to him, and started to fall into his tightly shut eyes. When he gave a shake to his damp hair she could feel a light mist, although it didn't bother her in the slightest. If anything he had never looked more beautiful then he did right at that moment, and she was just as high as he was.

Dark clamped lids opened, and looked at her with a fresh emotion she had never seen from anyone before. As he breathed harshly he managed a dopey smile.

"I love you." Gaara murmured, this time truly saying it to her openly rather than within a whisper. She was glowing, and she was dumbfounded.

Sakura didn't know how to answer him. Her mind was skipping rapidly over what had just happened, and what he had just said to her. He seemed to notice her spaciness, and looked off to the side as if he were ashamed of himself.

"Sorry... I'm... impatient. I'm so sorry--" In the middle of Gaara sowing his own seeds of doubt in his mind she swiftly turned his cheek to face her before giving him a passionate kiss. He tensed at first, his fingers twitching on her hips from the shock, but soon he let out a low hum of approval.

She hoped that answer could satisfy him--

"Lord Gaara, Baki would like to go over that last mission with--" An unknown voice suddenly broke the silence, making her blood run cold. By the sound of it the ninja in question already knew that he had just made a fatal mistake.

Sand started to slither across the floor--

"Gaara, don't do that. Please." Sakura had broke away from the kiss to give him a pleading look, which was a rare thing for her to do. The sand went completely lifeless as it plopped into unorganized piles. His expression was still truly livid.

"My apologies, I'll just let myself out. Thank you for your gracious time." The nameless ninja bowed repeatedly, even as he closed the door behind him.

"Fucking piece of shit--" The redhead began to shake with rage.

"Hey now, don't ruin the moment." The pinkette murmured softly, but his expression remained furious. "Save that murderous energy for later. If I remember correctly we have a game of damsel in distress planned."

His expression immediately went soft with innocent curiosity. Obviously this wasn't striking a bell, but his face alone was adorable enough that she could care less.

"Don't you remember? You wanted to play the villain, and tie me up... make me scream--"

"I have absolutely no memory of that." Gaara deadpanned, but a mischievous smile quickly found it's way across his features. "But it sounds like fun."

She breathed a sigh of relief, happy that she could get him to see things a bit more positively.

"Okay, so no maiming. If you behave nicely maybe we can play that game later, yes?" Sakura brushed some strands out of his face, and he nearly purred in response.

"I love games." The redhead said huskily, leaning into her hands for further petting like a loyal dog.

"I know you do, that's why I offered to play." The pinkette gave a cheshire grin, feeling ultimately successful on not only continuing to capture his interest, but she dodged the 'love' bullet as well as saved some poor man's life.

Although, she knew her affection for him was beginning to lean on love. She just didn't know if she was ready to say it.

‘You're afraid of the word, that’s the only reason why you wont say it. You're scared he'll leave once you do…’

That thought horrified her, but judging by how much he had dedicated himself to her, and today’s events she was certain that it would take more than a war to split them apart.

She wanted to take that chance, and she already started down her path by taking this leap with him.

However, on a more awkward note, now she had to delve into a lifestyle she wasn't quite ready for. She knew that after this tryst he would probably be vying for her every second of the day, and she didn't know if she was prepared for so much physical attention.

'Oh boy... what have I done?' Sakura felt herself break out into another sweat while he continued to nuzzle her affectionately. His love for her made her smile. ‘No, I regret nothing.’

----- ……….. --------- ……… ---------------

Gaara was somewhat upset that he had been called on a mission, and it showed in his work.

A new leaf shinobi had been imprisoned today, and he got the job of torturing the fellow for information. Sadly the man was tight lipped, and passed out before he could get much out of him.

"You should have held off, he probably has more information in him--" Baki grumbled as they walked past the dark cells, the redhead was keeping a keen eye out for any familiar faces. Unfortunately, even with his great night vision faces were still blurred in the dark. His vision was far better than most, but it wasn't perfect. The poor lighting didn’t help in the least, if anything the incandescent light of torches washed out people's features more than if he were just looking into pure pitch.

Everything was bothering him all at once.

"Get someone else to do it then if you don't like my methods. You should be happy that I didn't kill him." Gaara huffed, irritated by the scolding as well as the disruption towards his search. The man next to him stopped walking, and it took a moment for the redhead to register that the older shinobi was falling behind.

"Yes, you've been holding off on the death blows lately. It makes me wonder if that leaf woman is making you go soft--"

"Her name is Sakura, and just because she is from the leaf does not mean that she is automatically my enemy." Gaara turned to glare, challenging his sensei with just one look. However, Baki was not the type to bow out.

"Who is your enemy, Gaara? If it is not the leaf, then to whom does your allegiance lie?" His former sensei seemed to be on the defense, his posture had gone rigid as he threw out accusations.

'I know that no matter what I say it will be taken as a threat. Nothing I do will be right in anyone's eyes, with the exception of the small few I hold close to me... Sakura especially.... In her eyes I am not a monster, I am just a man.' The redhead took a calming breath, and shocked himself over how composed he felt. Just thinking of Sakura gave him so much strength.

"My allegiance... lies with people that I can trust. I trust a handful both in the leaf, and in the sand. I will not betray these people, but I will destroy anything that threatens them specifically." Gaara didn't fail to notice the double take from Baki, although he couldn't really blame him. For him to have friends at all was almost like a freak accident, even if those friends consisted of two siblings and one girlfriend.

'The fact that I even have them is astonishing...' The redhead mused to himself, fighting a small smile at the thought that someone actually cared for him.

"So, if a leaf shinobi came in right now, and placed a knife at my throat, would you kill to save me? Or would you leave me to die?" The jounin placed a scenario suspiciously in front of his former student. It had Gaara lost in thought over it.

Would he leave him to die? He supposed it depended on the leaf shinobi attacking him...

"I would save you, but the attacker would not die. They would be questioned--"

"Life doesn't work that way, Gaara." Baki interjected immediately, grating on the redhead's nerves. "Sometimes we have to make tough choices. Sometimes we have to choose sides--"

"--And my choice was to make it so neither of you die. My choice is to live and let live." Gaara took a step closer to his former teacher, adamant about getting his point across. "I don't want you to die, and I don't want to kill the people of the woman I love. Why is it that we can't have both? Why do you keep sending me out there to kill people who have nothing left?!"

'What... is this... feeling?'

"I am done! This war will end by my hands, but my hands will no longer be covered in blood! I don't want to do it anymore!! Do not call on me to do your dirty work ever again--!!!"

"You're joking. How can you suddenly be an activist for peace when you hate everyone?" The jounin bit venomously, and while it had the redhead taken aback he also felt his temper boiling over. Something was about to spill out---

"I DON'T HATE ANYONE, THEY HATE ME!! I NEVER ASKED TO BE A JINCHURIKI, AND YOU ALL TORTURED ME FOR SOMETHING I COULD NOT CONTROL!!! ALL I EVER WANTED WAS FOR SOMEONE TO FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME!!!!"

Gaara ran out of air from yelling so hard, and the man in front of him was shell shocked from it. The redhead took that opportunity to finish his initial thought.

"All I wanted was to be loved, to be important to someone. I finally have that. I am no longer broken from a loveless life. My pieces have been gathered, and they are being glued back together piece by tiny piece. Now that this person has saved me I will do anything in my power to keep her from becoming sad. She doesn't want her people to suffer anymore, so I will no longer kill them. I refuse."

Gaara closed his eyes, feeling as if something heavy had been lifted off of him. He almost felt like crying it was so relieving.

"But, I care for my siblings, and I feel somewhat close to you. I do not want to see you all hurt or saddened either. So I will do anything in my power to make it so that both sides will win--"

A clapping was heard from inside one of the cells, forcing both of them to turn their heads in alert. In the shadow, Gaara saw two hands clapping strongly, and they belonged to a man with silver hair...

"That was beautiful, Gaara. I never thought I would say this, but I truly hope they make you Kazekage." The voice was familiar, he knew it from his youth.

"... Kakashi..." The redhead gaped slightly as the man's face came into view. He was completely maskless, which was probably why he didn't recognize him. The leaf jounin smiled, but kept one of his eyes shut.

"It's been a long time, it seems my student has been treating you well. I'm actually glad." Kakashi gave a weak laugh, he looked withered and worn. The bruises on his wrists and neck also told Gaara that he had been tortured repeatedly, but he knew it hadn't been by his own hands.

The redhead went to approach the bars, but Baki held him back with a stern hand.

"He's killed three of our men already, just in captivity--"

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" Gaara interrupted, he could honestly care less as to how many people the copycat ninja had killed. He stared at Kakashi's eye, noticing its tired appearance. He went to move again, jerking out of Baki's grip.

"We didn't think it would be safe. He is Sakura's sensei, and with how much you sacrifice for her we knew you would try to free him." His former sensei sounded worn too, as far as the redhead was concerned this war was simply wearing everyone out.

"Gaara, I hope you will continue to take good care of Sakura. It sounds like you truly love her." Kakashi smiled genuinely this time, and Gaara had to admit that the older ninja was a handsome man. "I'm happy to know she's alive, and safe. I hope one day you can stay true to your word... and stop this war..."

Suddenly the silver-haired ninja looked sullen, like something great had been knocked away from him.

"I will not live to see it, but that is the price I will pay for not stopping it in the first place." Kakashi murmured. The redhead felt frozen by that statement, and truly noticed just where they were.

Death row. Those meant to be executed in the days to come.

"You will live to see it." Before he could even think, the words began leaving his mouth. He surprised himself with his own declaration, and yet he felt it to be the truth.

Gaara would not let this man die.

"Gaara, it's time you left." Baki's tone was stern, and angry, but the redhead could care less. His mind was made up, and he would fight his own people to save this one man.

This man that Sakura cared deeply for, anyone she loved would not die as long as he was around to prevent it. He swore it on his very soul.

--- ..... --------- ......... ------------

"What are you doing?" Sakura's voice sounded nervous, and he turned in time to see her studying him with suspicion.

Well, packing a satchel wasn't necessarily normal unless you meant to leave somewhere. He turned away from her before grabbing a few kunai from his nightstand.

"We are leaving." Gaara answered plainly, noting the intense silence behind him. It was palpable.

"Is it okay for us to leave?" The pinkette sounded monotonous, it was the most serious tone he had ever heard from her.

'Shinobi habits die hard.' The redhead smirked, knowing that once they left the village she would probably pick back up on her training. 'It's better this way.'

"No. We're deserting." His answer was raw, and to the point. For a moment he expected her to panic, but when nothing came he remembered just how strong she was.

"Can I ask why?" Sakura's hand appeared in his peripheral vision, placing her soft fingers over his own to stop him from packing. Her skin was warm, and comforting, but he couldn't smile for her. He knew what the newest turn of events would do to her.

"Kakashi is in our prison. He's to be executed tomorrow morning..." Gaara didn't waste time in being delicate, and sadly it had her shaking. He looked up to see her face grow paler by the second, and tears started flowing from her widened eyes.

He never wanted to see her look so hurt, and yet just the mere mention of what was happening had her completely shattered.

The redhead was finished with this disease called sadness. He would not let it affect the people he cared for any longer.

"That execution will not happen. We will free him, and immediately leave. Together." Gaara turned back to his pack, putting away some spare clothes with overly focused eyes. He could hear her choking on her sobs as they bubbled out of her, and although he felt bad about it he also knew that the remedies to the problem were already in motion.

"G-Gaara..." Sakura hiccuped, and he felt her head rest on his shoulder first before her arms desperately clung to him. "Th-Thank you...."

His heart was pounding, although he didn't exactly know why. The ties to his pack were fastened quickly, yet he still stared off into space; day dreaming of what was to come.

There would be no protection once he left, and the knives at his throat would rush in to kill him as swiftly as possible. His jumping to the other side would cause absolute chaos, but he was willing to accept everyone's anger in exchange for her happiness.

Gaara loved Sakura, and he didn't want to live a single day without her smile.

"When the war is over... will you still stay by my side?" The redhead asked without thinking, and almost cursed himself for it.

"Yes." Her answer shot through him like a knife, yet it had his heart thumping wildly. He had never felt so insane in his entire life, and he wasn't even killing anyone; just the opposite actually.

Suddenly he felt it coming out, the strangest question he would ever ask another human being.

"When the war... is over... will you be my wife?" Gaara stayed focused on his bag, he refused to look her in the eye for the fear of her leering at him with disgust. When silence filled the room once more he felt his brow furrow before the emotion of shame began to sink in--

"Alright, but I want a child. So you had better be ready to become a fathe--ah!!" Sakura squeaked as he abruptly pulled her into a tight embrace. His breath was shaking, his hands were trembling, and his eyes were clamped shut out of fear of accidentally crying.

"Thank you." The redhead whispered, and her hands wrapped around his frame in return. "I love you."

"I love you too." The pinkette sounded just as anxious, but there was a smile in her voice. She was happy.

All that was left was to wait, and seize their chance.

The future was waiting, and they were going to conquer it.

To be continued...

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #GaaSaku Fan Fest 2018 #Pikaboubou #fanfic

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elsewhereuniversity · 6 years ago

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Elsie

Elsie is not a particularly threatening name all things considered, nor one tinged with any sense of nobility, or power. It is not what one would expect. After all the name is common place enough in many realms, a standard name, plain. Yet in EU it thrums with strange energy, the handful of new students that unknowingly take it up as their own quickly slipping it for something sweeter, milder. The rush of silence overwhelming, filling a vacuum the fools thought already full of the stuff. The violent prickling under your skin only felt when facing a foe at its most dangerous, when its cornered. That is what these unknowing “Elsie’s’” face each time they dare introduce themselves as such. The sole, undivided attention of every Fae on campus, and many off as well. As soon as they drop the name they are swiftly forgotten, they are not The Elsie. They are not a threat.

None but the Fae know why this name is so feared, it remains as much a mystery to the most gifted witches and the most cunning tricksters. Not even the librarians could successfully barter for such knowledge. The more daring students joke that Elsie is the Fae’s Bogeyman, and are often punished justly for such an offence, presumably by the Man himself. The more curious students ponder upon whether the name is mere title, possibly even an abbreviation of Elsewhere. A theory ridiculous enough that the Fair folk do not even dignify with ominous stares. One student, too exceptionally bright for their own good, suggested there might be some kind of prophesy, that it would explain such unfounded fear of a name. They of course were Taken, and none could return them.

A strange quirk to be sure but apparently not strange enough to single it out amongst the ocean of quirks the University called its own. Not even enough to make the monthly Top 100 List Of Strange Quirks published by the University’s Journalism Society (article discontinued early on due to ‘finger theft’, some things are best not drawn attention to).

All in all, for the students and faculty of EU that were not Of the Fae, Elsie was little more than a mild inconvenience. One of a long list of words and phrases best not thrown around. Until she wasn’t. Until she came to EU, fresh faced, surrounded by her peers, and ready for her first year at University. Her chosen name was Phonics, not Elsie, as few names self-selected speak of true power. To most Phonics was decidedly unremarkable, pleasant enough, perhaps too often making use of obscure phrases and terminology to be reliably coherent, but that is only to be expected of a Linguistics Major. Even her roommate, a warlock of varied abilities could not detect anything of note.

The Gentry however knew who she was the moment she stepped over the threshold. As one they heard her first breath in Their domain and they shuddered. Initially she was known to all as Phonics and nothing else, The Fair Folk knowing better than most that belief can be a dangerous thing, can manifest reality so very easily.

Despite this, as weeks, months, years passed the name Elsie spread throughout the Fae, as did her exponentially growing list of inexplicable talents, gifts and knowledge. The unremarkable girl became decidedly remarkable and remarkably terrifying to the Gentry. One of the few students to never need any form of defence; no salt lining her windows and no iron marking her person. It was well known that a friendship with her was a valuable asset, it promised almost unrivalled protection. Her year broke records for the fewest number of disappearances, the changelings actively avoided even being in the same building as her. Most of the student body regarded her as a lucky charm. There was the few perhaps wiser and more experienced that questioned what exactly could fill the hearts of the Fae with such dread, whether someone of something like that should not be more of a concern. But as her student life continued without incident most simply accepted her as just another aspect of student life at Elsewhere.

Not for us though, not for The Gentry. It wasn’t until her final year at Elsewhere that I took those treacherous steps towards the dim fluorescent light filtering out of her dorm room window. Through some fluke she had managed to attain a room for herself, one that she did not have to share with a roommate. Unfortunate, she seemed less threatening when with her human peers. I tried not to shake as I removed every last scrap of glamour from my form and even forced myself to let out a glow, so I could very clearly be seen through the eve’s shadows. Queens forbid I even slightly startle her. I raised a fist to gently tap on her window, even as one of the Fae, manners had never before been so important as they were in that moment. She was typing up an essay with fingers improbably quick, hair falling out of a perfectly messy bun to frame her face- each curly strand curving with the signature grace of one of Us. I couldn’t quite bring myself to knock, she was clearly busy, how might she react if I interrupted her? I stood frozen in my indecisive terror until to my horror her voice swirled through the glass and into the night.

“Well are you going to knock or what? As lovely a statue I’m sure you make I worry that you would threaten the equilibrium of my oeuvre.” She did not stop typing, or even spare a glance in my direction as she spoke. I couldn’t be sure her lips moved, was it even her voice I’d heard? She sighed, hit a final button and stalked towards the window, opening it wide.

“Fine dearie don’t knock, I’m tired of such formalities anyway- just come in, I assume you’re here to make the usual deal?” Managing to shake myself out of my haze I nodded and ever so gently manoeuvred my many long limbs though the small opening, crouching so my horns didn’t scrape the ceiling’s paintwork. She in contrast practically threw herself into her desk chair, yawning and elegantly slumping back.

“So, you wish to also have that same slim chance at controlling my immeasurable power that I have given others of the Fae? Two letters of my true name?” That beautiful combination of fear and excitement flowed through my entire being. I licked my lips and nodded once more.

“What would you give me in return then? What do you have to offer?” Her eyes felt harshly analytical as I reached to my head and scraped off three long, twirling shavings from my horn and presented them in an open palm towards her. I tried not to flinch as she took them from me.

“Huh, yeah I guess I’m running a little low.” She casually pulled open a draw and my ears drew back in disgust at the grisly contents. At least a dozen little boxes and jars, filled with assorted remains of my people; hair, blood, claws… even what looked like a heart. She dropped my precious shavings in a jar and closed the draw once more.

“I’m afraid those are only worth one letter at this point. Basic economics, their scarcity value has clearly plummeted-” when I did not respond she rolled her eyes and continued, “- so in fair trade I give you the letter ‘L’. Now if that will be all…” she turned back to her laptop.

“No!” I wheezed out, unable to stop myself. I needed the other letter too, I needed the same chance as the other Gentry, no matter how small.

“So, you do talk, I was beginning to wonder. What else does a lower Fae such as yourself have to barter?”

“The Sight; True Sight.” I cursed myself even as I uttered those words, but I was so desperate. She looked at me almost pityingly, and with endearment.

“That has not been a skill I lacked for a long time now.”

The most valuable gift I had to offer, and It wasn’t enough.

She inhaled deeply, “Perhaps instead I could suggest an option, your scent is one of my favourites I’ve come across, even for one of the Fair Folk. Would you be willing to part with it?”

A Fae’s scent is often a key factor in luring hapless humans, mine being no exception, but of course I agreed. She requested it in a bottle, which she placed next to two others that sat on her vanity.

“In fair trade I give you the letter ‘C’, and now I expect you know how to refer to me.”

L & C, LC…Elsie. Of course, the answer had always been there.

“I thank you for these trades Elsie.” I began to take my leave but found myself pausing. She noticed and shook her head;

“I will not trade you any more letters, you get two, same as the rest.”

“I do not ask for letters, I wish to know- I wish for information for curiosity’s sake, not out of greed or self-preservation.”

“Interesting, unusual even. What information would you ask of me?” Her eyes narrowed but a hint of a smile touched her lips.

“What is the great power you possess that renders you such a threat? How did you gain it? Are you even truly human? What makes you different to the other students that roam this campus?” The questions spilled out in a stream as I realised I certainly had no way of paying for such a bounty of information.

She let out a peal of laughter, nauseatingly melodic, “You wish to be told my story, I admit it is one I am rather fond of. You will be the only one to have heard it and perhaps for that reason I will trade it for practically nothing, a pretty stone for each day I reside here and a promise not to repeat a word of what you learn. Are these terms acceptable?”

For such a generous offer I nodded enthusiastically. And so, she began.

She told me of how on her first day she knew nothing of who she was, the role she was to play. She came to Elsewhere due to natural intrigue in a people so clever with words, and at first she was like any other student. She took the salt packets and iron pins from the RA, heeded the warnings about true names and dealings with the Fair Folk. However, it wasn’t long before she realised that They were far too interested in her, that none of her peers were gaining anywhere near as much of their attention. After maybe the twentieth Fae approached her, attempting to trick her into giving away her True name whilst she was still young and naïve, she finally agreed, to an extent. Carefully selecting her words as to best circumvent any possible loopholes she made a deal, for each of her questions the fae answered fully and to the best of their ability she would give them one letter of her True name.

“Why are so many of the Fae desperate to trade for my True name over all my peers?”

And she learned of The Prophesy, as old of the university it spoke of her arrival, of a human impossibly powerful. She learnt that the Fae all wished to be the one to control that power, and by extension her.

For this she gave the letter ‘L’.

“What is the exact wording of this prophesy?”

And she learnt of the promise of one by the name Elsie, who would come to Elsewhere and possess power that would grow to outstrip all but the highest queens. That Elsie could one day destroy the Fae if they do not manage to stop her.

For this she gave the letter ‘C’.

That fae became the first to know to refer to her as Elsie, not Phonics. Coveting what little chance at her True name they had they refused to bargain with any other fae for the letters they had gained.

After that night she found the Fair Folk even more eager for even just the scrap of her True name she had given the first. Even the highest queens jealously bargained away whatever they must so that the others would not have this advantage over them. Elsie found she could gain any talent, any gift, any knowledge she wished. Trades were made to give her beauty and charisma, talent and grace, skills and knowledge, protections and power. She traded with the Fae for that which she could trade with her peers, with Witches and Mages and Librarians- she gained comforts and luxuries and further obscure power.

She told me this and smiled obscenely, teeth too white, lips too red and corners too pointy. She spoke the truth I’d already begun to unravel and confirmed my fears.

“The thing is that when I came here I had no power, nothing but a way with words and slight talent for being cunning. It was the Gentry that gave me the power you all so fear, so lust for. It was your envy and greed, your need to hold my supposed power over each other. I have made trades with countless Fae for the promise of an infinitesimal chance at gaining the power they themselves are giving me, and I will continue to do so until there is no one left to make the arrogant gamble.”

I left with shame and disgust heavy in my heart. As promised every day until her graduation I left a pretty rock by her window and saw that sickening smile on the face of the monster of our own making. I’ve tried to warn the Fae who hadn’t yet made their trade not to give her yet more power but was unsuccessful. It would seem she had long since made a deal to prevent others taking advantage of any loopholes in her phrasing. I found myself unable to compromise the sentiment of the promise I made, unable to share her story.

After Graduation she left Elsewhere University and hasn’t been back since, I fear she is roaming other realms and gaining yet more power. I fear one day she with return and destroy the fae like the prophesy warned as when I left her room the night of our trade she spoke one final curse before she closed the window;

“There isn’t a single prophesy that isn’t self-fulfilling.”

#queen-quibbler #stories #long post #elsie #DISCONTINUED DUE TO FINGER 'THEFT' i'm horrified #love that #that LAST LINE #damn #lc #submission

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asroarke · 7 years ago

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Part 1:Hi! I got this idea in my head, but I suck at writing and you're my favourite so I'm giving It to you and hopefully you will be interested. Clarke and Octavia live together and they're cleaning the house in preparation for Easter party with the squad. Bellamy is helping them and he also has extreme crush on Clarke.

Part 2:Clarke listens to music in headphones while working and she sings out loud. Bellamy is really amused and gives her cute smirkes and other cute Bellamy shit. Double points if Octavia acknowledges that. I hope you can understand what I wrote lol, English isn’t my first language and I just woke up. Have a good day! I don’t know why I’m writing it to you I hope you don’t mind!

Sorry this took so long. I mostly stuck to the prompt, but Bellamy and Octavia live together instead of Octavia and Clarke. And I switched it to a graduation party since it’s been a month since Easter (my bad, this prompt got buried and I need to be better about getting to these faster). Hope you like it! [ao3]

“It’s your graduation party, Bell. You could at leastpretend to be excited,” Octavia huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration.Bellamy probably should have seen this coming. After all, Octavia went all outfor his high school graduation and his college graduation… he just figured she’dget tired of celebrating his graduations by the time he finished grad school.

“I am excited,” he forced himself to say. He was just notexcited about having to clean their entire apartment only for their friends todrunkenly mess it up again.

“And the Oscar for most convincing attitude change goes toBellamy Blake,” Clarke snorted before returning to blow up the balloon she wasworking on. Octavia hit Clarke’s shoulder in frustration, causing Clarke tolose grip of the balloon, and Bellamy tried to keep a straight face he watchedit deflate across the room. “This is the last time I offer to help you guys.”

“Bull shit,” Octavia teased at the same time Bellamy said, “Thankyou.”

“Since it’s my graduation party, I’m gonna go ahead and calldibs on not cleaning the bathroom,” Bellamy decided, and with a groan, Clarkeput her headphones back in.

“Bell, I still have errands to run,” she argued, and herolled his eyes. Of course, she decides to throw him a party and then stickshim with the actual work for it.

“Why can’t I run the errands?” he asked, cocking his head tothe side as she moved to grab her keys.

“Because they’re super surprise errands that you can’t knowabout yet,” she said sweetly, and before he could argue, she was out the door.

He let out another exaggerated groan, waiting for Clarke tojump in with some teasing quip. When she was surprisingly quiet, he glancedover at her, seeing her swaying where she was sitting, listening to whatever itwas that she listens to. He had been trying for a while to figure out what kindof music Clarke is even into because her Spotify choices have not given him adamn hint. Some days, it’s just straight up classical music, and other days, it’sthe kind of metal that Bellamy would be scared to play in his car unless hewanted to destroy his speakers.

“Clarke,” he shouted, and her head popped up as she tugged aheadphone out.

“Yeah?” she asked as she tied off another balloon.

“Did Octavia seriously decide to throw me a party and leaveme all the actual work?” he asked, and a smile washed over Clarke’s face beforeshe leaned back and started laughing.

“I tried to talk her out of it,” Clarke chuckled, shakingher head slightly.

“You let this happen,” he teased, which only made her erupteven further into laughter. He knew as well as she did that when Octavia madeup her mind about something that she usually got her way. “You know, the veryleast you could do is help me with the bathrooms.”

“Excuse me,” Clarke deadpanned, waving the balloon she justtied off in the air. “I have very important artistic work to do here,” she gotout before cracking a smirk and hitting the balloon in his direction. Hesmacked it back down, hitting Clarke. “Ugh, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he reminded, raising his eyebrows at her.He swears he saw a slight blush in her cheeks as she turned back to herballoons… or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. He decided to gointo the kitchen and grab the cleaning supplies from the cabinet before he lethimself overthink this too much.

He and Clarke were friends, despite spending several years determinednot to be. It was inevitable when Clarke moved across the hall from him andOctavia, since more evenings than not she ended up on their couch, playing refereewhen he and O would get into fights. Then, Octavia and Lincoln started dating,meaning him and Clarke were both suddenly without the one person they usuallyspent their time with… so they just kind of fell into being close friends. Itwasn’t a huge shift, or anything. Just a lot of nights where they got take outas Bellamy wrote papers and Clarke sketched.

He wasn’t sure when he started seeing her as something morethan a friend. Maybe it was inevitable after spending years trying to ignorethose random thoughts he would have about how pretty she is or how nice hersmile is. Or maybe it was just because this was the first time they were bothsingle for this long. Or maybe it was because they had become more physicallyaffectionate with each other in the last few months, snuggling a little closeron the couch as they watched documentaries late at night, hugging a bit morefrequently than usual…

He had no idea if Clarke even felt the same way, but he decidedit was something he could wait to deal with after he graduates. Miller gave hima lot of shit for it, but he had a good argument. He needed to stay focused onhis thesis, and he couldn’t do that if he was brooding over the fact thatClarke didn’t feel the same way.

Although, Bellamy knew it was just him being too scaredabout what would happen to their friendship if he was wrong about Clarkefeeling the same way.

When Bellamy came out of the kitchen, Clarke had herheadphones back in and was mouthing the words to whatever she was listening to.God, she looked so relaxed and at peace today… a look he had been seeing a lotmore lately. It was nice getting to see Clarke like this.

He shook the smile off his face as he got to work cleaningthe bathroom, remembering that he was going to wait until tomorrow to figureout what to do about his mild crush on Clarke.

He finished cleaning the sink and begrudgingly decided to justclose the shower curtain and hope that no one noticed that he hadn’t botheredto clean it. He stepped out of the bathroom to get a new sponge when he heardClarke’s voice.

Well, her singing voice, more specifically. Bellamy tiptoedtoward the sound, finding her in the kitchen, cleaning out the fridge. Herheadphones were still in as she sang along to that new Panic! at the Discosong, and Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He really should go back to cleaning or at least acknowledgethat he’s here, but there was something so endearing about how happy andcarefree she was, how at home she felt here with him and Octavia. He wasn’tsure how long he stood in the doorway watching her, but he was jerked out ofthe haze by the sound of Octavia swinging the door open.

A blush crept to his cheeks as he tried to pretend like hewasn’t just standing there watching Clarke, but the look in Octavia’s eyes saidthat she wasn’t buying it. “Clarke,” Octavia shouted as she entered thekitchen, and Clarke tugged the headphones out and started helping Octavia finda spot in the fridge to put the cake in. Bellamy headed back toward thebathroom quickly, deciding to just make do without the new sponge since thatwas preferable than being in that kitchen when Octavia decided to tease himabout Clarke.

He may have taken a bit longer finishing up the bathroom thanhe needed to, only stopping when Octavia walked in with a huge smirk on herface. “Don’t,” he warned, not knowing where Clarke was and if she could hearthem.

“She’s back at her apartment getting ready,” Octavia saidwith a huge grin. He let out a breath as he stood up, and Octavia’s grin onlygrew. “So, is tonight the night you’re gonna tell her you want to have herbabies?”

“Oh my God, stop,” he groaned as he brushed past her. Hescanned the living room, and it looked about as good as it was going to get. “Let’sjust get through tonight.”

“Hey, I am working my ass off on this party,” Octaviasnapped as she followed Bellamy back toward his room. He refrained from pointingout that he didn’t want a party as he headed toward his closet. “Wear the bluebutton-down with the white stripes. It’s Clarke’s favorite.”

“What?” he asked, but Octavia was skipping out his door. Hehad no idea if this shirt was actually Clarke’s favorite, if she even had afavorite that she would tell Octavia about, or if his sister was just messing withhim… but he went ahead and put it on.

He tried to shake Clarke out of his head as he finishedgetting all the food out. It helped that Lincoln and Miller showed up early anddistracted him. In fact, he stopped thinking about Clarke altogether until shecame back into the apartment when the party was already in full swing. Heignored the pointed looks that O was giving him as he went over to help hercarry the beer into the kitchen. “Jasper showed up already kind of drunk,”Bellamy warned, and Clarke chuckled.

“I guess we know who is sleeping on your couch tonight,” sheteased, and Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“Yes, happy graduation to me, I get a drunk Jasper on mycouch and probably a drunk Murphy asleep on my floor,” he muttered, and Clarkebit down on her lip. “What?”

“Okay, don’t get mad at me,” she said as he sat the beerdown on the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she ducked her headslightly… and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “This party might totally bemy fault.”

“What?” he huffed in mock anger, and she covered her mouthwith her hands. Luckily, there was no one else in the kitchen with them,meaning Bellamy didn’t have to stress about Miller or Octavia teasing him forthis.

“Okay,” she giggled, holding her hands defensively. “I justmentioned to Octavia that we should do something for your graduation. I in noway, shape, or form endorsed a party that you would then have to do most of thework for,” she explained, and Bellamy smirked at her.

“You told my sister we should celebrate, and you didn’trealize she would jump to a party?” he teased, nudging her shoulder with his.

“No, I said we should do something special. I mean, this isa huge deal, Bellamy,” she argued as she pulled the cap off her beer. “Ifigured we could do something small, I don’t know. I just figured we should do somethingspecial to celebrate,” she shrugged before taking a swig of her beer.

“I appreciate the attempt, princess,” he replied, pullingher in for a side hug. His heart skipped a beat as she lingered at his side,resting her head against his chest.

“You better. I worked my ass off on those balloons. Thatbetter be your favorite thing about today,” she snorted.

“Nah, I think my favorite thing was walking in on yousinging along to your music in the kitchen,” he teased, although it wascompletely true. He snuck a look at her, seeing her entire face grow red from embarrassment.

“You heard me?” she huffed, hitting his shoulder, and heerupted into laughter. “You could have told me I was singing out loud. I didn’tnotice I was doing it until Octavia gave me shit for it,” she kept going,squirming away as he pulled her back in by her waist. “You’re such an ass.”

“Hey, I said it was my favorite part of today,” he joked,and she scrunched her face up as she glared at him… and he knew that he wasjust beaming at her at this point. It was hard to hide this goofy grin of hiswhen she was around.

“Clarke!” he heard Raven shout from the other room, andBellamy let out a sigh. Moment over.

“I’ll be right back,” Clarke smirked, patting his arm.

“Nope. It’s my graduation party. You gotta hide out with mein the kitchen. Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” he joked, although he hadalready stopped touching her so that she could go.

“Like I said, I’ll be right back. You’ll hardly miss me,”she teased, before smacking a kiss right on his cheek. His jaw went slack asshe turned away, but he managed not to actually touch his cheek until she wasout of the room. He could feel all the heat rise to his cheeks as he tried to processwhat just happened. Clarke just kissed him. It was on the cheek… but still. Itwas the best thing that happened to him today.

#asks #alex does prompts sometimes #bellarke fanfiction #prompt fill #pining!bellamy #modern au #yo sorry this took forever #it got buried in other asks and i just found it again this morning #mutual pining #fluff #FLUFFY #asroarke fanfiction

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strmyweather · 6 years ago

Text

one foot in front of the other, babe / one breath leads to another, yeah / just keep moving

I’m in the homestretch of my training for the New York City Marathon; the race is a little over five weeks away. Honestly, I sort of can’t believe I’m saying that -- because it seems like just a minute ago there were multiple months stretching out before me like the Great Dismal Swamp (which is an actual place) -- but now I’m realizing that there’s actually a faint light emanating from the end of this endurance tunnel. Somehow, I’ve only got four more ‘long runs’ left before the taper.

This is marathon number six for me, which might give the impression that the process is old hat by this point, but that would be thoroughly untrue. There have been a ton of ‘moving parts’ this time around, physically, mentally, and nutritionally -- maybe more so than ever before -- and I’m definitely due to set some of it down on paper. I had intended to do regular updates every couple of weeks as the training progressed, but (surprise, surprise) never actually managed to do so -- meaning this will probably be another of my infamous ten-page missives. So… pour another cup of coffee and strap in.

Back Story

I have a rather long and karmically-entangled history with the NYC Marathon. I was never a runner in adolescence -- swimming was my sport -- but took it up gradually during my senior year of college, mostly because my roommate nudged me into accompanying her on a couple of races of various distances. When we graduated and I no longer had easy access to a pool, I started doing road races and triathlons regularly, almost by default -- at that point in my life, I needed something concrete to train for in order to ensure that I remained consistently physically active. I gradually built up to marathon distance, starting with the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008, and although I entered the NYC lottery more than once, I was never selected.

In 2012, I finally just bit the bullet and bought a charity slot for NYC. Thanks largely to my PA classmates, I successfully raised 100% of the money (!) -- but those of you playing the home game may recall that 2012 was the year of Superstorm Sandy, and that the NYCM was therefore canceled that year for the first and only time since its inception. (I was literally ON THE BUS from Philadelphia to New York when the verdict came down.) Along with most of the field, I deferred my entry to 2013 -- and ended up with a stress fracture in my foot. Thoroughly annoyed, I deferred again, to 2014 -- and, a month into training, promptly sustained a stress fracture in the OTHER foot. (Pretty sure that’s what the kids call #facepalm.) However, by then I was out of deferrals, and I sure hadn’t raised that $2500 for nothing, so I adapted a CrossFit Endurance-style training plan to keep my fitness at a reasonable level while avoiding anything involving repetitive impact. Three weeks before the race, I was cleared to run.

So I did. My longest training run was five miles. It was by far my slowest marathon. It wasn’t the race I’d envisioned, to say the least. But I finished it.

That was supposed to be it. The end. The closing of a chapter. Yet somehow, every year, I have consistently managed to end up in New York City on marathon weekend. Typically, I’m just there visiting friends or seeing shows -- but this past year, it was because a dear friend of mine from the Netherlands was running the race herself. And, reliving that experience from the fringes last November -- walking around the expo with thousands of excited runners, dashing around Manhattan with my friend’s husband to try to catch a glimpse of her at various mile markers, standing on the sidelines cheering with my camera at the ready -- well, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wish I were running myself.

So, on the spur of the moment, I threw my name in the hat, for the fifth time in ten years. And then promptly forgot about it.

...Until the evening of February 28, 2018 -- when my mind was entirely occupied by Week 2 of the CrossFit Open -- and my phone suddenly beeped with an alert for ‘Unfamiliar Credit Card Charge’.

Over the coming minutes, my initial alarm changed to confusion -- then, as the realization dawned, to equal parts shock, excitement, and dread.

Oh, shit. What had I done?

Fast-forward another seven months or so, and here we are.

Physically

The metaphor I keep using is that I feel like I’ve been driving a 4-cylinder automatic transmission for the past decade and am suddenly being asked to master a stick-shift Maserati. That’s not to say that I’m any kind of speed demon in the grand scheme of things, just that I have a much larger number of ‘gears’ than I used to. I spent a solid decade doing ‘long slow distance’ in various forms prior to discovering CrossFit in 2012, but back then, I was basically either running or walking (or crawling!) -- there wasn’t much of an in-between option. Nowadays, I’m much stronger, faster, and lighter than I used to be -- all good things! -- but this kind of training also utilizes an energy system that we just don’t routinely tax to the same degree in CrossFit, and it takes time (and mileage) to get comfortable with that. Therefore, much to my dismay, I’m having to become intimately familiar with the feel of a ‘threshold’ pace -- a.k.a. the place where I’d LIKE to slow down, but don’t objectively NEED to slow down in order to complete a given work requirement. This is occasionally validating on the back end when I review my split times -- never could’ve imagined a day where I ‘accidentally’ hit an 8:15 mile IN THE MIDDLE of a long run! -- but also inevitably involves some ‘overshooting’, a.k.a. those sessions where I come out of the gate too hot, hit a wall after two miles, and spend the remainder of the time feeling like death. Yet, slowly but surely, I’m starting to internalize how it feels to run at an 8-minute pace, vs an 8:30 or 9:00 or 9:30 pace. There are two processes happening simultaneously -- physically training my body to run faster, and mentally training my ‘sixth sense’ to learn how to calibrate a pace that can be held for MANY miles, not just two or three.

I’ve learned a couple of interesting things about myself so far, including that, on a physical level, I am inherently a more aerobic athlete (read: not a power athlete). This had already become apparent in recent months via barbell performance -- I can use a pretty high percentage of my max with decent form for a lot of reps, but tend to struggle in terms of getting my actual one-rep maxes to move upward. It turns out I’m similar with regard to running -- I can hold a ‘moderate’ pace for a relatively long time (on one of my earliest long runs, I averaged 8:54 across seven miles and felt pretty great the whole way), but, as above, I’m learning that ramping that pace up even just a little bit past the sweet spot will quickly lead to a major crash and burn. However, I suppose I’d prefer to be built this way, as opposed to the alternative -- and one silver lining is that, since my 10-rep maxes are a lot closer to my 1RMs than they have any right to be, my working weights on the current (muscular-endurance-focused) weightlifting cycle haven’t had to drop down SO far as to make me sad. :)

In terms of programming, at my request, we are continuing to prioritize my CrossFit fitness, just with a necessarily heavy slant toward endurance and bodyweight strength. Running isn’t my primary sport and isn’t going to be; my goal is simply to ‘complete’ this marathon in relatively good shape -- to stay healthy as possible throughout the training, to feel strong for the majority of the event, to soak in and thoroughly enjoy the atmosphere of such a special race, to crush several very large piles of food afterward (first stop: milk bar!) -- and then immediately jump back into ‘normal’ CrossFit training. A new PR would be a bonus -- and I do think it’s well within my abilities -- but I also won’t be too upset if it doesn’t happen; I’m playing the long game here, and I’m much more concerned with retaining muscle mass and overall fitness than with earning the fastest possible marathon time.

This all means that my actual ‘mileage’ is relatively minimal -- which is good for me, both in terms of personal preference and due to the fact that my feet are typically the part of me that ‘breaks’ first when subjected to high volume. (Other CrossFitters have wonky shoulders or knees; my own personal Achilles’ heel -- pun intended -- has always been my feet.) I started out having weekly long runs programmed on Sunday mornings and two-a-day sessions on Wednesdays (light CrossFit in the morning + running speedwork at the track in the evening). However, I promptly sustained a (mild) foot injury in the third week of increasing speed mileage (#typical). This led to us changing the sprints over to the rower and assault bike -- so now, with five weeks to go, my only true running is the long Sunday-morning piece. However, almost everything else I’m doing supports those sessions by having taken a sharp turn towards aerobic capacity and bodyweight strength. My ‘metcon’-style work these days is usually ridiculously long and pretty boring -- think anything that taxes the legs: biking and rowing mixed with long light high-rep sets of wallballs, thrusters, air squats, deadlifts -- but I’ve just had to accept that. (I halfheartedly complained at one point early on, and Coach shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “Well, it’s either this or more running,” so I immediately buttoned my lip!) :)

This brings me to...

Mentally

Going in, I tried to keep a semi-open mind -- after all, I did this for a solid decade prior to CrossFit; this could turn out to feel like a refreshing break for me. It might even be exciting to do something a little different for a while. No such luck, though; I’m actually finding this type of training to be tremendously more mentally fatiguing than regular CrossFit, for two main reasons.

First (and most obviously) -- compared to barbells and handstand push-ups and ‘three-two-one-go’, endurance training is just LONG and BORING. There have certainly been a few gratifying moments -- ‘accidentally’ running a sub-27-minute 5k during training, crushing 3000 calories in a day, realizing I’ve somehow become that girl who truly is most comfortable running in just a sports bra (who even AM I?!?). But it simply isn’t where my heart is. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure the only way I was able to convince myself that I ‘liked’ this for so many years is because back then I wasn’t physically ‘training’ so much as giving myself a forced MENTAL break -- shoving in my headphones, zoning out, letting my mind wander. Fast paces were things that occasionally ‘happened’ on days when I felt good, not things that I could deliberately strive for. As I mentioned above -- turns out it’s a whole different ball game (and a lot more mentally taxing) when you’re actually TRAINING at a prescribed intensity level and staying attuned to keeping yourself there.

And secondly, this type of training is a lot more isolating than I had bargained for -- both physically and mentally. Gym-wise, I knew it wouldn’t be fun to watch other people crushing their CrossFit goals while I sat on the assault bike plugging away at another hour-long conditioning piece… but I was at least somewhat mentally prepared for that part. What’s been harder has been the (many, many) hours when I’m NOT in the gym. Getting up at 4:00am to cover a dozen miles in the dark before work is not much fun, nor is forcing myself to drive to the track at 7pm after I’ve worked a full clinic day and just want to go home to bed. It’s also tough to feel as though nobody in my life can relate to both this odd set of obligations AND the (even odder) accompanying headspace -- after all, most endurance athletes choose this method of training because they genuinely enjoy it. And -- to add insult to injury -- because the repetitive pounding beats my body up in a whole new way, it means I have to be hyper-focused on recovery (I’m getting to that!)... which then FURTHER detracts from time that I could be spending training in a way that I DO actually enjoy.

Training is generally my favorite part of any given day, because I usually find it validating and motivating just by its own nature. So, lately, it’s been frustrating and demoralizing -- and, frankly, a little frightening -- to feel such a major piece of my life evolving into a chore. I’ve certainly completed marathons on far less training than this (albeit a lot more slowly and painfully), so there have been many moments when it’s been hard to stare down the gun barrel of WHAT DO YOU MEAN TEN MORE WEEKS (or however long). However, I’m trying to remain cognizant of the fact that this is temporary -- and that, the better-prepared I am for the marathon, the less of a toll it will take on my body -- and therefore, the faster I can jump back into the stuff I really love.

This brings me to…

Recovery

I'm being extraordinarily careful about prioritizing my recovery, in part because, with endurance training, problems tend to show up LATER rather than declaring themselves in the moment. Aches and pains tend to be related to overuse, rather than to any kind of obviously-pinpointable injury, which makes them more slippery and insidious -- and therefore more difficult to prevent (until the horse is already out of the barn, that is). This is not my first rodeo with regard to distance running -- I've completed five marathons, over a dozen half marathons, and quite a few triathlons -- so I’m well aware of this dynamic by now. I had a bone deformity in one of my feet as a teenager, and although it’s been corrected, I've still had the pleasure over the years of dealing with shin splints, Achilles tendinitis, severe plantar fasciitis, and two metatarsal stress fractures. The latter is the worst-case scenario for any runner -- because by the time you 'feel' a stress fracture, it's already too late. That’s exactly where I’ve ended up during two of my previous marathon training attempts -- and is a place that I’ve been valiantly trying NOT to revisit.

Knock on wood, this training program has kept me considerably healthier overall than any of my previous attempts (not coincidentally, it’s also been the plan with the smallest weekly run mileage!). As I mentioned, I did end up with a mild foot injury a couple of weeks ago (nothing ‘specific’ enough for a true diagnosis; my left foot/ankle just got ‘angry’ through the retinaculum and the lower segment of the tibialis anterior) -- but it was definitely a soft-tissue problem this time, nothing bony, and responded well to a couple of weeks off running, some RockTape, a better-fitting pair of shoes, and a couple sessions with the PT and the bodywork guru at my gym (both of whom I’m seeing about twice a month for dry-needling, cupping, taping, and various other ‘hurts so good’ interventions!). My coach and I are perfectly in line with our opinions on this, which is that -- if we have to choose -- it’s vastly preferable for me to reach the start line healthy and perhaps slightly underprepared, versus crush every mile of the training and then be in pain from the first five minutes on the day when it actually matters.

Honestly, I am feeling incredibly well-supported in terms of the team I have around me -- more so than I have been maybe EVER, athletically speaking -- and so (general saltiness aside) I’m actually managing to stay pretty calm, even during the acute injury phase. First, because it always feels like a small miracle to be able to lie down on the therapy table with legitimate pain, and then stand up a little while later with it having essentially vanished (!) -- but second, because of the sheer emotional comfort that lies in the knowledge that (for once in my life) I actually don’t have to worry about EVERY little thing, that ‘other people are taking care of’ some pieces of this puzzle. The three of them are all aware of ‘where I’m at’ physically, and are in communication as far as what they think is best for me, which is such a gift. Just the awareness of that support network provides me with a huge amount of reassurance -- AND additional motivation to ‘do my best for them’, after all the time and energy they’re investing in me. (The first time she dry-needled the injured area, the PT bade me farewell after the session with the admonishment, “Don’t f*ck up my good work.”)

Unrelated: one other thing I’ve found useful for recovery purposes has been my new Garmin watch (Fenix 5S). It’s definitely not a hundred percent accurate -- it’s very much an endurance watch and thus has absolutely no idea how to interpret regular CrossFit most of the time, so it occasionally tells me my weekly training load is ‘light’ or that my performance condition is ‘peaking’ when that is BLATANTLY FALSE -- but in terms of things like heart rate, daily stress level, and sleep quality, it’s fascinating to see numerical data that backs up my own internal gauges, and it’s admittedly also been pretty helpful nutritionally in terms of calorie burn estimates (I’m getting to that!). And although it’s apt to underestimate my effort output at times, there are other times when it keeps me honest; on one memorable occasion, my coach sent me a new month’s worth of programming, and I saw that my long Saturday metcons had been dropped in favor of more movements that were labeled as ‘for quality’ or ‘not for time’. This is the sort of stuff I tend to find ‘boring’, and I groaned internally as I made a note to ask her why she’d done that. However, before we even had a chance to discuss it, I completed my first Friday session on the new plan (over 60 straight minutes of biking, rowing, wallballs, lunges, running, and air squats, if you’re curious!) -- and as soon as I clicked my stopwatch off, Garmin popped up with a cheery little note: “Recovery Time 45 Hours / Easy Effort Recommended.”

Well then. As usual -- it seems Coach knows what she’s doing!

Awesome support crew and techie gadgets aside, a few other essential recovery things: -- compression socks or calf sleeves for the 24 hours following a long run -- supplements: vitamin D, krill oil, zinc/magnesium/B6, probiotics, vitamin C -- a consistent 9-9:30pm bedtime -- Epsom salt baths after the heaviest leg days -- tart cherry juice in my workout shake (helps reduce inflammation) -- and doing my best to NEVER be in a calorie deficit (more on this below).

Which brings me to...

Nutritionally / Fueling

One enormous and unexpected side benefit of this whole process is that I’ve had to become much more flexible and forgiving with regard to food. (This is something that definitely needed to happen, but I just couldn’t really foresee exactly how I was going to get there!) I’ve been following Renaissance Periodization for 18 months now (cut #1, short maintenance, cut #2, long maintenance, third/SHORT cut, now currently on maintenance again), and it has done phenomenal things for me (which is why I’ve stuck to it so rigidly until now); however, the origins of the program lie in weightlifting and strength training. To their credit, RP has put forth a lot of effort recently to try to tailor their approach to make it work for endurance training, and I definitely found their tools to be a pretty useful starting point in terms of calculating carb recommendations for long run days -- but I also learned that the math could really only carry me so far. A standalone long run is one thing, but it gets trickier when I’ve got (for example) a day with two training sessions, or a workout that’s maybe only an hour long but is almost entirely composed of sprints, or one of those super long Fridays where my ‘metcon’ is 60-100 minutes of work at “70% effort”. The bottom line is, at some point, you just have to take the toolbox you’ve got, start experimenting, and figure out what works for your body.

I’ve said before that I think one of the official RP hashtags should be #alwayslearning, and this training cycle has been no exception! While I obviously knew I would need more carbs/calories on long run days, I did NOT expect for the caloric demand to increase ACROSS THE BOARD as much as it did. It didn’t present as traditional ‘hunger’, so I didn’t recognize the ‘deficit dynamic’ at first -- but after a couple of great weeks initially, my performance and general well-being started to fall off around the 4-week mark. I wasn’t sleeping well, was feeling generally moody and anxious, and my long run paces were significantly slower than they had been up until that point. I also knew the scale had been running rather low, in the 138s-139s. However, none of this by itself was THAT far out of the range of ‘normal’, so it took me a week or two to put it all together. The larger picture didn’t fully click until, independently of one another, two separate CrossFit coaches (both of whom I’d only known for a month!) asked me if I had lost weight. That finally prompted me to look back at my daily scale trends, and I realized that my ‘maintenance’ was not actually maintenance; I’d slowly lost about two pounds over the course of the first month of endurance training.

Now, while two pounds is obviously not a tremendous amount of weight, this was still a super important phenomenon to identify and address, because in my case, it would NOT be beneficial for me to get any smaller right now. From a general health and performance standpoint, I’m already right where I need to be (my DEXA scan in July measured me at 17% body fat), which means that losing weight would fly directly in the face of ALL my goals: not just day-to-day performance and recovery, but also muscle retention. Muscle is a heavy and metabolically demanding tissue, so the body doesn’t want to hang onto more of it than it truly NEEDS -- so it’s one of the first things to go during heavy endurance training (ever checked out the physique of a Kenyan marathoner?). Since my primary goal is to preserve CrossFit fitness and performance, the last thing I want to do is sacrifice my hard-earned muscle on the altar of marathon training.

Another SUPER important facet to all of this is hormonal health -- which, unfortunately, seems to be one of those things to which I’m more sensitive than some other women. During the past 18 months of intermittent cutting, my body has shown me repeatedly that it haaaaaates being in an energy deficit (and that it will respond to this by promptly grinding my reproductive cycle to a halt for MONTHS). And while I don’t necessarily love everything about the monthly cycle, it’s an inescapable fact that estrogen is one of the best defenses I have against all this repetitive pounding on my feet. As I mentioned, I already have a history of two prior metatarsal stress fractures, both sustained during marathon training -- therefore, I absolutely need my biochemistry to hang in there this time around!

At any rate, in hindsight, I’ve been playing this RP game long enough now that I felt pretty stupid for not recognizing the ‘deficit phenomenon’ sooner. Once the light bulb came on, I started increasing calories, mostly carbs (amid a lot of jokes about my need for ‘supplemental frozen yogurt’); this immediately made performance feel much better and got my run paces back to the range where they needed to be. I’ve learned that 200g carbs seems to be the absolute minimum on a training day (and on most days it’s significantly more!), and that even on rest days I need a few more carbs (for recovery purposes) than my templates officially prescribe. However, it eventually turned out that in order to truly stabilize my weight (and to stop waking up hungry at two o’clock in the morning!), I ultimately had to slightly increase my training day fats as well. As we got deeper into the training plan and my sessions got longer, I also had to tweak my pre- and intra-workout strategies to figure out how best to fuel for a longer time duration (it’s not unusual nowadays for my Friday gym workouts to take over three hours -- meaning my regular fruit juice and whey shake alone simply isn’t sufficient) and/or what types of things I prefer to carry and consume while I’m out running. (On the plus side, my iron gut serves me well here; many runners suffer GI distress related to intra-workout nutrition, but it turns out there’s not a whole lot that I can’t tolerate!)

I’m definitely still tweaking and refining -- it (unfortunately!) isn’t as easy as just stuffing my face round the clock, because GAINING weight right now obviously wouldn’t be ideal either -- but I’m learning a ton, and, equally important, am also learning how to relax a little. My modus operandi for just about everything in life is that I tend to dive in at 120% enthusiasm, then have to slowly work my way back to a place of more moderation, and RP has been no exception. But this endurance training cycle has really forced me to try some different things as well as be a bit less rigid in general -- i.e. more willing to eat ‘combination’ foods (that don’t fall squarely into one macro category), and even to dine out in restaurants once a week or so. (Exhibit A: the best free meal I’ve had recently was a fried green tomato biscuit from Rise, when I did my long ten-mile run on a Sunday morning and then met up with two other runner friends for breakfast. LOOK AT THAT HEALTHY BALANCED RP MAINTENANCE LIFE. :)) Additionally, the necessity of (on many Sundays) fitting a homemade high-carb meal in between an early-AM long run and a full day of work means I’ve also learned how to make certain things in such a way that I actually enjoy them just as much as (or even more than!) the restaurant versions. For example, Aldi’s frozen sushi is surprisingly awesome, a home-assembled burrito bowl is totally on par with Chipotle, and (for me) a flatbread pizza in the toaster oven really does satisfy a pizza craving. I’m reaching the point where (MOST) food just isn’t really that exciting anymore -- which is actually a pretty great (mentally healthy) place to be.

Unintentional weight loss is one of those things that sounds like a #firstworldproblem to a lot of people -- and in another scenario, I can see how it could be! -- but honestly, I’m grateful to have experienced this ‘problem’, because the necessity of tackling it has been a pretty big eye-opener. This whole process has required a new level of intuition -- less straightforward following of a numerical macro chart, and more paying attention to my body’s physical, mental, and emotional cues. If I’m feeling ridiculously tired and depleted after a long workout (even if I don’t feel obviously ‘hungry’), or if I’m noticing that my hand ‘wants’ to flash out and grab the frozen yogurt when I open the freezer, then I probably need more carbs. If I wake up hungry at 2:00am, I probably didn’t eat enough fat that day. And, when eating foods I didn’t ‘plan’ for, it’s been validating to see that what often feels to me like a ‘crackout’ is usually just my body trying to maintain homeostasis. During the first few weeks of trying to sort through all this ‘data’, there were several occasions where I ate a larger-than-normal amount of something (usually the better part of a pint of frozen yogurt...) that I didn’t necessarily ‘plan’ to have. Each time, I fretted guiltily for a few minutes -- then did the actual macro/calorie math in the context of that morning’s workout and realized that my body had done EXACTLY what it was supposed to do, almost to the point of being eerie (as in, I worked for X minutes longer than last week, and today’s calories worked out to be X amount higher than last week -- without any intentional effort on my part to make it so. Biology is pretty neat). On some level, I do still ‘expect’ myself to self-sabotage -- and maybe always will expect that to some degree -- but these past couple months have reinforced to me yet again that my body truly does ‘know what it needs’ most of the time, and that I can actually ‘trust myself’ on a gut level a lot more than I tend to believe I can on a cerebral level.

What’s Next

We’re not quite tapering yet, but getting close. Tomorrow is my peak-length metcon -- by my reckoning, that portion alone is going to take about 95-100 minutes (!). But after tomorrow, Fridays will get somewhat shorter; the metcon portion will probably only take 20-30 minutes or so for the remainder of this cycle (and I’m laughing out loud at the fact that that genuinely sounds like a SHORT metcon to me now!). My long runs on Sundays will continue to build for another 3-4 weeks; the programming is written in ‘minutes’, not miles, and we lost some time because of the foot injury, but my rough calculations would suggest that I’ll make it to about 14-15 miles (on October 21st) before the two-week taper. (Which, yeah, is a bit shorter than ideal, but as I said above -- better 15 and healthy than 20 and broken.)

November 4th is the big day. I’m so, so ready to be done with this training, yet (I’ll admit) am also getting something of a ‘second wind’ mentally now that the end is finally in sight. And while I have no plans to ever (EVER) do another marathon after this one, I’m also not so jaded that I can’t recognize how very grateful I’ll be, come race morning, for all the blood, tears, and sweat (SO MUCH SWEAT) that I’m putting in right now.

In 38 days (38 days!), this will all be worth it.

#marathon #training #running #goals #fitness #crossfit #progress #RP #RPstrength #renaissanceperiodization

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delkios · 6 years ago

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The Thrill of First Love (DC TV)

Title from the musical Falsettos. A sort of loose prequel to my role play dating series.

Title: The Thrill of First Love Fandom: DC TV Rating: edging into R Word Count: 7546 In Responds to: ColdWave Week 2018: Date Night Characters: Len, Mick, random ocs Warnings: referenced child abuse, some slut shaming, mild violence Summary: Four role plays that didn't end up as intended and one that worked out anyway.

The First Time

Len checked himself in the mirror for the third or fourth time that hour. He was nervous, excited and had no clue what clothing was apropos to wear given the situation.

The situation being a date. With Mick.

Mick had been surprisingly against it at first. Adamantly so. Len hadn’t considered Mick would turn down anything that got him sex- specifically sex with Len -especially for something as tame as this but Len had to wear him down over the course of a month for it. The scene wasn’t anything complicated or ostentatious, just the standard ‘plumber come to lay some pipe’ type deal. They wouldn’t be leaving the apartment, it would take minimal acting and no one would see them.

And, the condition that eventually won Mick over, if he didn’t like it after the first time, Len wouldn’t ask him again. But he’d have to make an actual effort of it. Len was determined to make this work as he had some very specific and elaborate fantasies he was hoping to sell Mick on after he’d gotten comfortable with the act. Which was why Len kept overthinking his wardrobe. All the research he’d done watching shitty porn role plays had been fairly exclusively women in sheer robes and teddies, fawning against the door as they let the handyman in.

It didn’t really give Len a lot of options or ideas. In the end he decided on one of Mick’s button-up flannels, because Mick loved Len wearing his clothes, with the barest few buttons done up so it threatened to slide off one shoulder. Under that was a pair of old jeans whose various holes- which caused Len to stop wearing them originally -had been carefully worked wider to give off tantalizing glimpses of pale skin. In addition to that was a couple polished rings and a pendant necklace that hung to rest on his breastbone because Mick liked shiny things.

There was a knock on the door and Len sucked in a breath. He checked himself in the mirror one last time, ran a hand through his hair, too short to do anything with, and went to the door. He checked the peephole, just in case, and after seeing Mick there, opened the door. He leaned against it, angling his shoulders so his shirt fell open just a little bit more. “Yes?”

Mick stood there looking more than a little uncomfortable. He had a toolbox in one hand and a toolbelt low on his hips. The coveralls he wore were slightly too small on Mick which made them very tight around the thighs and ass and impossible to zip all the way due to Mick’s broad shoulders. Which meant showing off a lot of chest under a tight, all but transparent white tank top. Len had picked out his clothes specifically and he licked his lips because Mick looked better than he imagined. “You called a plumber?” Mick asked, voice gruff and a little stiff.

“Of course,” Len stepped back, sultry and low, sweeping a hand in invitation, “come in.”

Mick just shouldered his way in with a grunt, barely giving Len a second glance which caused Len to frown. Guess he was playing hard to get. That was fine. Len squared his shoulders and followed, refusing to be deterred. Mick was already in the kitchen, rattling around the cabinet under the sink. Plumbing was one of the few maintenance areas Mick didn’t actually know anything about. Len leaned up next to him, almost close enough to brush up against Mick’s shoulder with his leg. Close enough that Mick could lean over and lick at an exposed strip of thigh through a ragged hole if he wanted to.

Len frowned harder when Mick didn’t take a peek. “So,” Len said conversationally, “do you have any ideas what the problem might be?”

“Probably a clog or something.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to take care of me.” When Mick just grunted, Len bit back a snap to at least give him something to work with. “You certainly seem capable with those big, strong hands of yours.”

“I guess.”

Len dropped his head back and seethed between his teeth. “Mick.”

The clattering stopped. “What?”

“You said you’d at least try.”

Mick pulled back, glaring up at Len. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Act interested, maybe?”

“I’d be more interested if I didn’t have to do this stupid act!” Mick pushed himself off the floor, stomping to the opposite side of the kitchen, turning to glare at Len with his arms crossed. “It’s just sex, why d'you wanna complicate it?”

Despite himself, Len felt himself getting angry on top of frustrated. “What, you want to go back to fumbled handjobs that we’d pretend never happened? Because you fucking me is more complicated than that. This,” he waved a hand between the two of them, “being open about sex and what we wanted complicated shit. But suddenly me wanting to try something new is crossing a line.”

“I just don’t get it!” Mick exploded. “Why do you need,” he waved at the toolbelt and coveralls, “all this? What I do isn’t good enough anymore?”

Something in Mick’s voice, in his choice of words made Len stop short and from the way Mick clenched his jaw, like he’d said too much, made it obvious there was something in there that needed unpacking. “Mick,” he said quietly and Mick looked away, knowing a conversation he didn’t want to have was coming, “what’s the real problem you’re having with this?”

Mick pressed his lips into a thin line, wanting and not wanting to say at the same time. Len waited, patiently, eyes intent on his partner. Eventually Mick ducked his head lower, shoulders hunched defensively. His voice was so low Len leaned in slightly to hear. “Isn’t this enough for you?”

Len drew back, surprised and a little stung. “Wait, you think I’ve been pushing for this role playing stuff because I’m not satisfied with you?” Mick hunched his shoulders further. “Look at me- Mick, look at me.” When Mick did so, Len held his eyes and said very seriously, “That is absolute crap. The only reason I’m willing to do this at all is because you’re the only one I’d be comfortable doing this with.”

“But you want to pretend I’m someone else,” he said quietly.

Len had to shut his eyes and take a deep breath. He’d been trying, for years, to help Mick through his issues, just as Mick had been trying to deal with Len’s. But that right there smacked of the father Mick could never do right by, the grandmother convinced that the devil lived inside Mick, the mother that thought her youngest son was some sort of punishment and if they weren’t already dead, Len would be sorely tempted to kill them for the damage they’d done to his partner.

“It’s not like that,” he said when he was certain he had his voice under control. “It’s like… Remember eight months ago, when we hit that auction?”

The memory brought a gleam of amusement to Mick’s eyes. “You went as some cattle farmer from Montana with that ridiculous cowboy hat and a bolo tie.”

“You wore a tailored suit, wireframe glasses and slicked back hair.” Len’s lips quirked at the memory. “And we almost missed our cue because we kept flirting at the bar instead of being in our positions.”

Mick chuckled. “Yeah.”

“It’s like that. Only we’re not doing it for a job, just acting like two strangers that decide to hook up.” He traced a finger down the zipper of the coveralls, stopping just below Mick’s sternum. “It’s just a game, Mick. Just shaking things up a bit.”

Mick stayed silent for a moment. “Just a game?”

“Yeah. Don’t want anyone the way I want you.”

He lifted his hand, sliding it around Len’s, fingers moving against Len’s palm. “...okay.”

“Okay?”

Mick shrugged, still not really looking at Len. “We can try again.”

“Are you sure? I told you I’d stop asking if you decided you didn’t like it.”

Mick finally looked at him, expression of somewhat wry humor. “The condition was I’d have to put effort into it. Which I didn’t really do, so.”

Len’s lips split into an eager grin. “Alright then. We’ll try again in a few days.” He stepped in close, lifting his hands to cup Mick’s face. “If it starts to mess with your head, just tell me and we’ll stop, okay?”

He looked both relieved and ashamed at being relieved about it. “Okay.”

So Len kissed him softly and pulled Mick away from the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s see if there's anything worthwhile on tv.”

Dressed Up

Mick didn’t generally like clubs. Too much noise, too many people and in the right circumstances he could easily feel dangerously claustrophobic. But for the sake of their playdates- as Mick came to call them -and their first in a public space, he figured he could deal with a little discomfort. Especially when Len promised him a surprise with that unfairly sexy smirk that always gave Mick the urge to fall to his knees.

He’d taken over one of the tables by the wall, further away from the dancing but unfortunately close to a speaker. He checked his watch, then his beeper. Normally the beepers were only for jobs but Len broke them out in case they ended up not being able to find each other in the crowd. Mick had scoffed at the precaution then but now that it was nearing half an hour without seeing Len he was starting to consider using it.

The beeper lit up and vibrated in his hand. Mick didn’t recognize the number but there was only one person that it could be. He went to the closest emergency exit where a bouncer was leaning against the wall and got directions to the pay phones in the back.

It was blessedly quiet back there, relatively speaking, the music faded but still audible, walls thrumming with the bass. As Mick turned into the corridor he saw someone duck out of view around the corner. He’d only caught a glimpse but that was all he needed to recognize Len. Huffing a breath, Mick followed after, passing by the phones and one person chatting drunkenly into one.

At the end of the corridor was a door that, judging from what he could see in the low light filtering through the open doorway, was a supply closet. Mick snorted, stepping in, using his foot to maneuver a plastic dustpan to keep the door from closing completely in case it automatically locked. “Decided to have a clandestine meeting in the janitor’s closet instead?” Mick asked sarcastically, fumbling along the wall until his fingers flicked the light switch on. Mick’s breath caught in his chest.

Len was wearing a skirt.

It was far from the first time Mick had seen him in one, just like it wasn’t the first time he’d seen Len in make-up though that was much rarer. But while the other skirts were plain and unassuming, this was shiny. Decorative. Short enough to emphasize the length of Len’s legs. The tights he wore were dark with some subtle pattern to them and he’d traded in his heavy boots for sleek ones that laced all the way up his calves. He wore a tight tank top with a sheer shirt over it which didn’t hide Len’s scars but the glitter on his shoulders and chest certainly distracted from them. There was a choker, a dangling earring and the make-up emphasized Len’s already gorgeous features and Mick had to wonder if someone manage to slip something in his drink because this was a goddamn vision in front of him. A fantasy Mick hadn’t realized he was dreaming about.

Len, uncharacteristically nervous, shifted a bit and Mick swallowed hard at the way the skirt moved over his thighs. “I, uh, think I was a little ambitious for a first outing.”

“Yeah?” Mick asked, barely hearing Len’s words.

“Yeah. I don’t… really want anyone to see me like this.”

Mick managed to come back to himself. “Didn’t you come in the front?”

Len snorted. “Of course not. I snuck around the side.” Trust Len to find a way to get out of paying for something.

“So you wanna leave?” That was fine by Mick. The drinks were overpriced and he did not want an audience for when he finally got Len within arm’s reach.

“Yeah. I know this was my idea and all-”

“It’s fine.”

Mick’s quick response made Len pause, seeming to finally notice the way Mick couldn’t stop looking at him. He shifted and Mick’s eyes were drawn back to the skirt again, lips parting softly. Len smirked, his confidence coming back and that transformation was enough to make Mick’s dick twitch.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” Len drawled lightly, “I’d think you liked this outfit.”

Mick rumbled in agreement.

Len held out his hand. “Jacket, Mick.” Something suspiciously close to a whine came out of Mick and Len laughed at it even as Mick obediently passed the jacket over. “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling the item on and zipping it up. It was long enough to fall to Len’s hips, leaving just enough skirt that Mick’s hands twitched, wanting to feel it. “You’re being such a good sport about it, I think you deserve a reward.” He walked up close, a hypnotizing sway to his hips. “How would you like to get down on your knees for me, bury your head under my skirt and wrap those pretty lips around my cock?”

Mick moaned.

“Which would you prefer? Me bending you over so you can feel my skirt flutter over your ass as I pound you or do you want me bouncing on your dick, only getting the barest glimpse of my cock under my skirt?”

“Fuck, Lenny.” Mick made an aborted move with his hands. If he touched Len now they’d never get out of this closet.

Len planted a hand in the middle of Mick’s chest, pushing him backward. “Take me home, Mick. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Bad Timing

There had always been one fantasy that stayed with Len ever since he was a little boy. It hadn’t been a sexual one back then, of course, and even now it didn’t always have to be. He just wanted someone to take care of him. To spoil him and dote on him, treat him like he was something precious. It was the escapist fantasy of a trapped, frightened child wishing someone would take him and Lisa away from their father, who would protect them, give them anything they wanted and never let them feel afraid of anything. Their grandfather had tried, but he had enough problems of his own that Len always felt worse for it.

As he grew up part of Len began to resent that fantasy. No one was going to save him and after their grandfather died, no one other than Lisa cared about Len. And as he got more cynical, Len knew that anyone that wanted to treat him like that would just be looking to control him, wring whatever they wanted from him as payment for his debts.

That resentment would wax and wane but never truly went away even after Len accepted that Mick didn’t want anything from him. At least not anything Len wasn’t already doing for him. They were partners. Equals. They still occasionally struggled to balance each other out but it worked out for them. In time even that resentful part grudgingly agreed that Mick wouldn’t hold the fantasy of being a kept man over Len’s head but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. With his reputation and skill and confidence growing day by day, his pride simply wouldn’t allow it.

It was part of the beauty of role play, the ability to assume another identity with it’s own needs- and lack of Len’s hang ups -for a short amount of time. He hadn’t brought up role playing to Mick specifically in order to fulfill his Pretty Woman fantasies but it was still something Len had slowly built towards over the years. Even now it was a rare scenario for them to do, one Len only brought up when his emotions were so strung out his ego swung from fierce independence to demanding to be pampered.

This time around they had broken into some ridiculously fancy home in the Ozarks, a kind of get-away ‘cabin’ for the owner of a statewide grocery chain. It had been easy enough for Len to charm the wife’s schedule- a state elected official -from a staff member and knew she was taking the family for a camping trip in Arizona for some sort of astronomy event. Which gave Len and Mick an entire weekend to indulge in Len’s favorite role play.

He prepped for it by disabling the security, cameras and motion sensor lights earlier that day and had gotten a spare key made to help sell the authenticity of it. Plus some cash and liquid assets that were just lying around, using Len’s veteran thieving definition of the term. They led into it- Mick playing the cheating husband and Len his ‘mistress’ -by going to some fancy gala followed by dinner at a high-end restaurant, with Mick plying Len with all sorts of fancy gifts throughout. They drove to their chosen home in the most absurd car in the husband’s vehicle collection- Mick loved the butterfly doors, Len couldn’t help mentally listing all the shady collectors they could sell it to -with Mick’s hand resting on Len’s crotch the entire way. Occasionally he’d squeeze or rub but it was just so carelessly proprietary that Len couldn’t help arching into it, biting back moans for more.

The best thing about this fantasy, and playing it out with Mick specifically, was that Mick always seemed to know just how ‘owned’ Len wanted to feel. And when the role play was over, that sense of ownership didn’t bleed into their partnership.

Len was on the verge of clawing into the seat by the time they finally pulled up the driveway- prevented only by the knowledge it would affect resale value. Len was too wired to wait for Mick to play the gentleman and get his door. Mick must have been feeling the same because he tossed the spare key to Len so that while Len was unlocking the front, Mick’s hands could wander freely over his hips and ass. Len was glad for his prep work because he would have been extremely distracted to pick the lock and disable the security otherwise.

When the door swung open, Mick spun Len around and, in a move that always left Len gasping with a rush of arousal, lifted him until Len wrapped his legs around Mick’s waist. “Like being a fucking tease, don’t you?” Mick growled, pressing his face against Len’s neck as he moved them into the house. “It’s like you were daring me to strip you down and take you in front of everyone all night. Was that what you wanted?”

Len just moaned, hands everywhere, trying to touch every part of Mick within reach at once.

“Gonna lay you out on the biggest damn bed in the place,” Mick growled, shutting the door behind him with a heel. “Won’t be wearing nothing all weekend but my wife’s most expensive jewelry. Maybe a fur coat while I suck champagne off your body.” Len shuddered, hands tugging at smooth material of Mick’s sports coat. “Gonna take such good care of you, baby, don’t gotta lift a finger for nothing. I’ll feed you anything you want, I’ll carry you to the tub, rub you down with oils. And I’m gonna have you anytime and any way I like. Every time my cock so much as twitches when I look at you, I’m gonna sink right in that tight ass or sweet mouth and use you till I cum all over you.”

“Yes,” Len whispered, breathless against the side of Mick’s head, rutting helplessly against Mick’s stomach as he was carried in. It was only about 10% an act. “Please,” he dropped kisses along Mick’s face and head, “please please please-”

“Begging already?” Mick’s hands flexed and Len rocked into them. “Wanna lick you open,” Len’s trousers were too smooth for Mick to get the grip to pull his ass cheeks apart but his intentions were still obvious and it made Len whine, “until you’re shuddering and sobbing for me to fuck you. Just a question of where. The couch? Kitchen counter? Maybe outside, see if I can make you scream loud enough you wake the neighbors.”

Len wanted to say anywhere Mick fancied- while cursing himself for not thinking to include the jacuzzi in prep -but something that had been on the edge of his awareness finally broke through the lust. He pushed away from Mick who, feeling Len tensing in his arms, obediently lowered him to the ground. “What is it?” Mick asked quietly.

“I didn’t leave the lights on when I left.”

They both went on the alert though neither went for their guns just yet. They didn’t normally carry weapons while on playdates, unless the roles they were taking had a reason to have them, but this was also technically a job as well and Len didn’t like doing those unarmed. Chalk another one to paranoia, he mused to himself while straining to get any sense of where another person could be lurking.

The two of them slid over to the nearest wall, Mick keeping an eye on the entryways opposite them, Len on the ones they approached. The second doorway revealed the ‘guests’. Len pulled back from the corner and mimed to Mick that there was a man and a woman in hushed discussion, the man holding a small lamp as a makeshift weapon. Mick nodded, not yet tensing up for a charge, waiting for Len to decide how they should handle this.

Unfortunately Len recognized the two, the man being one of the homeowners. Len and Mick could, of course, just shoot the place up, strip it of its valuables and head out with no one the wiser but Len had really been looking forward to a chill night of being pampered. The thought of working was almost enough to make him signal Mick to just turn around and leave. If the man hadn’t gathered up enough bravado to start shuffling- noisily -toward the hall, Len might have actually done that. Instead he signaled at Mick to hold and he crossed his arms, as if he was bored waiting for the man to confront them.

He jumped the corner with a “Ha!” and startled to find people there though Len was far enough out of lamp-swinging range he didn’t even try. “Who the hell are you?”

“What I want to know,” Len drawled irritably, “is why are you here?”

“This is my house!”

“And you should be in Arizona with the rest of the people that live in this house.” Len’s eyes flickered to the woman as she stepped out behind the man. “Instead you’re here with a call girl.” He held out a placating hand to the woman. “No offense, Rosanna.”

The woman- Rosanna -just chuckled and waved it off. “That’s literally my job, can’t really get offended by that.”

The man looked at her in shock. “You know these people?”

“Yeah. They got me away from my shitty pimp and helped me get a decent job.”

“How’ve they been treating you, by the way?” Mick asked. “Didn’t know you picked up clientele all the way out here.”

“Well, you know. If they can pay, why not. Job’s been great. I get medical and dental insurance,” she told her client conversationally while he was looking at them all like they were crazy. “I get final say in my clients and, for the first time ever, I get vacation days. It is the best.”

“Good to hear it,” Len said with a faint smile.

The man, however, didn’t share in the satisfaction, face red and livid. “Did you bring these two into my home?”

“What? What a stupid thing to think- why would I bring some guys to rob the place when I was going to be here with you?” Rosanna turned to the two. “You are robbing the place, right?”

“Yeah.”

“After fucking on every surface here.”

“Possibly multiple times.”

“What is going on?” The man hollered, obviously disliking how the conversation was out of his control.

“What’s going on,” Mick groused, “is you ruined our date.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Rosanna clapped her hands, laughing. “I knew those rumors were true! Angelique is going to be so disappointed!”

“It’s a pretty open relationship and we certainly don’t mind a third every now and again.” Len’s tone was mostly playful but it was also the truth.

“I’ll pass that along.”

“Excuse me!” The man slammed the lamp against the wall, not caring that one of the fancy arms bent, a couple drooping crystals falling off. “Who are you, what are you doing here, and how do you,” he thrust the lamp at Rosanna, “know them? Do you fuck them, too?”

Rosanna drew back, stepping away from the man, one hand on her hip, the other poised to go from gesticulation to eye-raking in a split second. “Oh, you absolutely are not trying to shame me for having sex when you specifically hired me to fuck you and behind your wife’s back, at that.”

“‘Sides, if I spent as much as she’s worth, she’d better be experienced enough to give me the best night of my life,” Mick added. Len gave him a droll look. “Obviously not counting nights with you.”

“Charming,” Len drawled, but he was mildly amused by the addition.

“That doesn’t mean I need to know about it!” He protested, voice getting shriller the more evident it became no one actually cared about what he had to say.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “This is why I don’t fuck men outside of work.”

“Neither would I,” Len said.

“I’m calling the police!”

Without having to look at each other, both Len and Mick pulled out their guns in a smooth motion and the man froze. Having spent years working the worst parts of Central’s red light districts, Rosanna wasn’t the least bit fazed. “That would be a supremely idiotic move on your part,” Led said conversationally, “as you would have to explain to the police why you’re here with a call girl.”

He hesitated. “I… I could just say she’s with you two.”

“And when the police look up her information and find her place of employment which would have a record of your patronage?”

“Well, she could be helping you guys rob me.”

“So you’re gonna tell the cops you hired an escort, who attempted to rob you.” Mick said, giving the man a bored look. “What’d you tell your wife why you didn’t go out with the family again?”

“And do you really think someone wouldn’t be leaking a juicy story like this to the press?” Len asked. “Considering, if we don’t decide to just shoot you before you even make the call, we’d be long gone before the cops even got here, word of your infidelity getting out will be a lot more damaging to you and your wife than it could ever be to us.”

As the man floundered, jaw moving uselessly, Len weighed his choices. Killing the man was a possibility but he didn’t really want to deal with the investigation that would follow suit, especially since Rosanna was on record for being in his company. Tying him up and throwing him in a spare room while Len and Mick went about their original playdate idea was tempting but it wouldn’t be the same. Len would have the man’s presence constantly in the back of his mind. While the haul that Len got earlier in the day wasn’t terrible, it barely justified the travel. But then the Ozarks had a couple other disgustingly rich people he’d been eying before settling on this place. If they picked their targets carefully, they could do a b&e spree and be halfway back to Central before anyone realized what happened.

Len lifted his gun to point at the ceiling. “Mick, tie him up.”

Mick made a disappointed noise but holstered his weapon. The man, startled, made a feeble swing toward Mick who just caught his wrist in one hand and grabbed him by the throat with the other. He proceeded to bind the man with the cord from the lamp, hands behind his back.

“What- stop, you can’t- what are you doing?” Mick wrapped his arms around the man, lifting him off his feet and taking him to a plush, carpeted area. He pulled off the man’s trousers and bound his feet together with them.

“Hope you don’t gotta pee,” Mick said conversationally before giving him a patronizing slap on the cheek.

Len holstered his own gun. “We’re off, I suppose.” The man’s protests rose and Len said, “We’ll have the cops come check up on you in the morning. If we remember to call them.” With a parting smirk, and a wave from Mick, they turned back toward the door. Rosanna, going over to pick up the purse she left on a side table, followed after.

“You can’t just leave!”

“Uh, yes I can.” Rosanna barely looked over her shoulder at her bound client. “One of the clauses in your contract says I’m allowed to walk away at any point if you’ve done anything I find objectionable. And I very much object to being slut shamed and you wanting to frame me for robbery. Fine print, by the way, also states that while you’re free to complain, if my boss believes you’re in the wrong, you do not get a refund.”

“Goddamn,” Mick said in admiration. “That job is amazing.”

“I know, right?”

They took the car still parked outside as a consolation prize, Rosanna getting into the backseat. While Len doubted the man wouldn’t be dumb enough to report the car stolen tonight- if he even got himself free -he didn’t want to take the chance of hanging onto it for too long. Which meant instead of selling it to a collector, he’d have to see if any of his contacts knew of a chop shop in the area and settle for that.

“Anywhere you want us to drop you off?” Len asked Rosanna as he scrolled through his locked and coded phone list.

“A decent hotel is fine. I’ll call work in the morning and they’ll reimburse me for the room and getting back.”

“Here.” Len passed a gem studded watch that Mick had ‘gifted’ to him earlier that night- which Len had stolen from the house earlier than that -to Rosanna. “For ruining your job.”

“It’s alright,” she said, accepting the gift anyway. “He’s tediously boring and sloppy, anyway. His wife is way better with her hands.”

Mick nearly drove them off the road laughing so hard.

Interloper

The bartender, in full view of Mick, filled up a glass with a rather fine brand of bourbon and placed it down in front of him. His second free drink of the night. He took it without looking around, assuming it was from Len and they’d be kicking this playdate into gear any moment now.

His outfit for the night was a bit more leather daddy than Mick was into, leather pants tight enough to make Bowie jealous, belt with a heavy buckle sitting low on his hips, boots that nearly went up to his knees, a biker jacket done up just enough for people to notice he wasn’t wearing anything under it and a heavy chain to help direct people to that fact. Honestly it wasn’t exactly comfortable and Mick could feel sweat gathering in annoying places but he wouldn’t deny that he liked the looks it was getting him.

It did a good job of mentally preparing him for Len’s chosen scenario of the big, dominating guy getting his tables turned by some sweet-faced mousey beauty that would tie him up and take him on the ride of his life. Mick’s pants were not at all hiding how that anticipation was turning him on.

“It’s a crime for someone like you to be sitting alone.”

The voice was a tip off, some east coast accent rather than one straight out of Central’s slums, but it still surprised Mick to turn and find someone other than Len taking the seat next to him. He was young, too old to be twink but still heavily playing into his youth and slender build. It was very faint but Mick could detect traces of make-up on the other man to help sell the illusion. Between the nice clothing, well manicured hands and carefully styled hair, he had plenty of disposable income or at least the willingness to make sacrifices for those things.

He leaned in close to Mick, elbow on the bar so he was bracketing Mick on one side. “How are your drinks?”

So that’s where they came from. Mick hid his disappointment as he examined what was left in his glass. “Not bad.”

“Thought you looked like the bourbon kind.”

Really Mick could drink just about anything no matter how bad it was. He definitely wouldn’t be passing up free drinks- ones that he knew were clean, anyway.

“Waiting for someone?”

Mick shrugged. “Someone interesting.”

“What do you consider interesting?”

Mick gulped the rest of his drink, resisting the urge to look around. While guys didn’t normally hit on him even inside gay bars, it happened often enough it no longer surprised Mick and it wasn’t like he and Len were exclusive, sexually speaking. But he never had anyone come up to him during a playdate before and he didn’t know if he should be turning the guy down or just playing along.

“I guess,” Mick said slowly, “if I think he can keep up with me.”

The young man’s eyes lit up, mouth curling up in a way that was distracting. “And how do you figure if he can?” He ran a hand along the seams of Mick’s jacket, up to where it parted and revealed his bare chest. “Match you drink for drink?” His finger traced over Mick’s skin, dragging the edge of his fingernail and raising goosebumps in his wake. “Someone that will do any little thing you say?” His hand slipped under the jacket, flicking at the hard nub of Mick’s nipple. “Maybe take him somewhere for a test run?” He licked his lips, eyes dropping to the prominent bulge of Mick’s crotch.

Mick’s heart picked up, trying to figure out how to bow out of this before he got in too deep.

“Get your skanky hands off my partner.”

He couldn’t help letting out a breath of relief, turning to find Len glaring icily at the interloper. He was hardly intimidating in full hipster gear but Mick relaxed just having him there.

The young man pulled back, glowering right back. “Who the fuck are you?”

Len took the opportunity to force his way between the two. “The guy giving you the chance to walk away on your own two feet.”

He looked over Len’s shoulder at Mick and Mick just held his hands up. “He’s the boss in this relationship. He says no, then that’s all there is to it.”

The young man looked absolutely affronted. “Wait, are you seriously some asshole’s bitch?”

Len was too close to throw a decent punch but had plenty of room to get a good crack in with his elbow. The other man fell against the bar, blood streaming from his nose and Mick laughed in delight. “I don’t tolerate disrespect to my partner. Especially when you were desperate to gag on his cock in front of the whole damn bar not a minute ago.”

With his expression twisted into fury, the young man pulled out a switchblade and in an instant, Len had him by the wrist, smashing it down onto the bar hard enough he dropped the knife. With his other hand, Len grabbed the back of the man’s neck, slamming him into the bar as well. The poor idiot gasped from the pain of the impact as well as the strain the angle was putting on his shoulder.

Len leaned down and hissed into his ear, “I see you near my partner again, you’ll spend the rest of your life carrying your dick in a handbag.” He pulled back abruptly and the man slide to the ground. “Get out of my sight.”

He scurried out of the bar and Len turned to Mick. His eyes were narrow and jaw hard but Mick knew him well enough to tell when Len wasn’t angry at him. Mick could feel a big doofy grinned spreading over his face, hopelessly aroused by his partner. “Fuck, I love when you’re pissed.”

Len gave Mick’s clothing a pointed look. “Who picked out your outfit?”

“Lisa.”

Len’s lips twisted like he was deciding if he should thank her or yell at her for it. “Tell her not to do such a good job next time.”

Mick laughed loudly, hooking his foot behind Len’s knee, drawing his partner in between his thighs. “I dunno. Always love seeing you get hot over me. Staking your claim.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I always keep my cool.”

“Right. Damn near snapping someone’s arm out their socket is ‘keeping cool’.” Mick tilted his head, nosing along the side of Len’s neck. “Bet I could heat you up some more.”

“We’ll see.” Len’s voice wasn’t nearly as calm as his words, breathy and rough and Mick growled in response. Len grabbed Mick by the jacket and pulled him off his stool. “You going to backup your claim?”

Mick grinned, wide and victorious, ignoring the shocked and bewildered stares of those around them. “Always do.”

Sure, the night didn’t go as planned but Mick still got drilled so thoroughly he couldn’t sit right for a few days. That was a win in his book.

Change Up

The bartender held out Mick’s regular order. “Waiting for someone?”

“We’ll see who comes around,” he replied, accepting the glass as it was passed to him. The bartender stepped back with a nod. It had become a kind of pass phrase through the years at their regular places, alerting those who knew to run interference on anyone that might infringe on Mick and Len’s playdate.

Technically it wasn’t a playdate this time around as Len was in jail. Or rather was getting out of jail. The two of them had split up again about a week before he got picked up on, as Mick found after asking around, a bullshit charge. The police trying to put the fear of the law in him by tossing him in the clink for a couple months, never mind the fact that it just gave Len a chance to network with the crooks there. Fifteen, twenty years ago being on his own in prison might have made Len nervous but he built too strong a reputation by now. No one was willing to cause him trouble or allow others to cause him trouble, not when knowing Len would systematically ruin their lives in return. Or face Mick’s fiery vengeance as, outs or not, no one fucked with his partner.

So now here was Mick, sitting in a bar the two frequented on the day Len was supposed to be released, pretending he wasn’t waiting to see his partner again.

“This seat taken?”

Mick looked over his shoulder, heart aching at the sight of Len. He was looking a little pale, a little ragged, the bags under his eyes dark and his cheeks more gaunt than they should have been. Mick’s blood boiled and he gave a short shake of his head; opening his mouth would risk him breaking character at that moment. Just because other criminals knew better than to fuck with Len, that didn’t mean the guards would extend him the same consideration. Iron Heights, after all, was one of the more notoriously draconian prisons in the country for a reason.

Len sat on the stool next to Mick, gesturing for a drink that appeared in short order. Mick couldn’t look away, committing every bruise, every vaguely discolored patch of skin to memory. Len would never tell him who was behind them but Mick had plenty of friends on the inside. They’d give him at least a few names.

“See something you like?” Len asked, giving Mick a flirty, sideways look. It was his default character, the one they used when neither wanted a complicated role play. It wasn’t all that different from seductive, playful Len asides from the fact that it was in public. It was pretty guaranteed to get Mick going in short order. This time around, however, it wasn’t quite what he wanted.

On a whim, Mick decided to do something they rarely did on either a playdate or a job: he switched up the play. “I knew you were doing this to yourself.” He cupped Len’s face, familiar and gentle, feeling the rough stubble prickling his palm. “Don’t know why I thought your workaholic tendencies would stop when I left. You look terrible.”

Len huffed in quiet laughter, leaning into the touch slightly. Mick quietly thrilled at the fact Len just went with it. “This wasn’t any more your fault than the other times were. I did this to myself.” He turned his head, brushing his lips against Mick’s hand briefly before leaning away. “I get why you left. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me all the time.”

That… hit a little closer to home than Mick was prepared for. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Pretty sure you’ve done your share of taking care of me, too.”

“Not nearly enough. I’d give you the world, you know. It’s the least you deserve.”

“Does the world include you?”

Len’s eyes widened in surprise and while there was always some tiny kernel of honesty in all their playdates, Mick wasn’t certain how much was in this one. Not for Len or himself. “You- it- I can’t keep dragging you down.”

“You don’t.” Mick rested his arm on the bar, hand blatantly in Len’s space. After a moment’s hesitation, Len placed his hand over top of Mick’s. “Honestly, I do better when I’m keeping an eye on you. Have something to focus on, something to keep me busy.” That wasn’t lighting fires. “So,” he wove their fingers together, “I’m thinking about taking you home. Make sure you’re fed, tame that mop of yours a bit,” Len chuckled, touching his hair that had gotten long enough for the curls to edge into unkempt angles. “Then, when I know you’re rested, I’ll use you like a toy.”

Len spluttered and laughed, looking young in a way Mick hadn’t seen in too damn long. “So that’s the truth, huh? You’re willing to take care of me so long as I repay you in sex.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Still grinning, eyes still shining, Len pulled Mick from his stool. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

#dccoldwave #dccoldwaveweek2018 #fic 2018 #leonard snart #mick rory #was going to post this earlier but the format looked like shit on mobile #so i had to wait to get back to work to put it up here #at least it got on ao3 at a decent time

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