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plush-rabbit · 3 years ago

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Mental Toll - Brothers.

Request: My mom kicked me out, her 15 year old daughter out of her house. And I've been staying with my aunt but everything is taking a mental toll on me . Can I get a Beel, mammon, Leviathan, or asmo comfort?

A/N: Sweetheart, I’m sorry for this. It can be all so difficult for you, but please take care of yourself. Remember that nothing is your fault, you’re a child, you’re gonna be okay. Please don’t keep these emotions bottled up (im also assuming this is comfort on your situation, so yeah)

Mammon:

You’ll always have a place with him. He’s taken on a guardian role for you and while he might have hated it at first, he’s grown attached to you. Your guardians in the Human Realm don't matter. They decided to leave you, so now you’re here with him and he isn’t going to abandon you anytime soon. Mammon may not know what to do when he finds you crying and unable to speak, but he cares and he’ll try to show that to you, telling you that you can bunk with him for the night- you get to take his bed and he’ll sleep on the couch, you don’t have to be alone.

He isn’t exactly the best at comforting, using a bit too many words only to come up short, but once that initial nervousness wears off, he’s comforting. He’s taken care of a child before- granted they were much younger, and was then put into the care of witches- he knows what a scared kid looks like. He’ll offer what he can to you and let you rest your head on his bicep as he listens to you ramble about what happened. He won’t ever push for you to talk, but it might help sort out all those feelings that are bubbling up inside of you.

Of course it’s difficult for the both of you. He isn’t too knowledgeable about the mentality and fragility of a human mind and emotions but he can assume to be essentially kicked out of a parent’s home can be rough. He’s dealt with it before even if he knew the risks. He remembers the nights of pain and agony, the silent suffering that was thick in the air, and the lack of self-care. He comes in with a small meal every day, grabbing random vitamins that he thinks might be good for you, and just lets you rest. You see a more hidden side of Mammon, the one that cares too much, that acts almost like a parental figure and have a comforting smile and gives nice hugs.

You aren’t free to rest forever. He’s also seen what that kind of damage that can do to someone's mental health. He won’t ever pressure you to go out and do something you don’t want to, but you do have to move from the spot on his bed. You can hide yourself in his room for as long as you want, but you can’t live your life stuck in a bed. He knows that that isn’t good for anyone. You’ll have all the space that you could want and need, but you need to also talk to him and take care of yourself.

It’s his role as your guardian to take care of you and make sure that nothing bad would happen to you- you being in the Human Realm makes no difference to that. You’re still under his protection and he’ll take care of you as much as he can. Mammon can be brash, and have his sin take over, but it isn’t all that he is. He can be selfless and take care of you and let you just relax around him. There’s no pressure put on you and he’ll protect you. He promises that- he’s a demon, he’s lived for a long time and he’ll live for an even longer time and as long as he’s around, he’ll protect you.

Leviathan:

Coming to Leviathan is certainly a choice. He cares- of course he does! But, he doesn’t know what to do. Of course he knows how it feels, but it was different and so long ago and buried under memories and the fictional world, that he chose to forget that. It’s different with you. You’re a child who’s crying and at a loss for a parent that left them and it must hurt. He’s awkward, but he’ll sit by you and have a hand on your back telling you to take all the time that you need. He’s always here in his room after all, so you can always find him.

In the beginning, he doesn’t know what to do. Surely, there should be words or tips online that could help him translate his words and feelings better than “that sucks.” An apology feels so fake and unsure and he doesn't want that for you. You deserve something real, an actual meaningful interaction that might help you but he comes up blank. He doesn’t know what exactly he should say, so he just lets you rest beside him as he tells you his own encounter with abandonment and what helped him.

He tries to make you feel better in a way that helps him- via distractions. It helped him and maybe it could help you. You like to spend time with him so you both must share some type of interest in common. He feels so proud of himself when he offers you to read his manga or play some of his games. It’s a nice distraction and depending on what you choose, it can be a great way to just open up emotions and see what could effectively help trigger just that blockade of emotions for the both of you. You don’t have to do it, but it proves to be nice to just immerse yourself in some fictional tale.

Eventually, he starts to read what you read once you’ve fallen asleep. You gravitated towards it for a reason and it’s easier to talk to you like that. You get to be the hero, the protagonist or whoever you want, and he knows the struggles that they go through. He can help through an outside glance. It starts off simple, just him mentioning comments, prying for information about why you like a certain character and then in just a blink of an eye, you’re crying. You opened up and he’s by your side.

Comforting you is a bit awkward, but what could he expect. He sits by you and lets you talk through your emotions even if it makes no sense- your words are garbled and out of order- but he gets the main point of it. Leviathan understands that you’re hurting and who wouldn’t be. You’re a child, and the love of a parental figure means a lot. He might not be confident to have that type of relationship with you, but he can certainly be a big brother who lets you come into his room and sleep in a futon that he has when you’re feeling particularly lonely.

Asmodeus:

His eyes are sad, the usual glow and glimmer dimmed and his smile once beautiful and stretched, it pulled into a soft frown. Even in sadness, he still looks beautiful. With a gentle pull, he brings you into his room, and lets you set your stuff down on the floor. Asmodeus holds your face in his hands and gingerly wipes away your tears. You’ve had such a long day and it’s no secret that he has the best bath in the house, so he lets you go use it in order to destress, just enough to clean yourself and have time to gather your feelings and thoughts.

The room is suited to him and to only him, but he figures that you wouldn’t want to be alone. He has to rid some of the extra pillows on the bed, rid of the stronger scents in the room in order to not congest you more, and just declutter his room a bit more. It’s suited for him, a demon who can and lives for the finer things, but for you, he needs you to be able to breathe. The sheets are replaced, the towel that he has set for you soft and fluffy and the clothes clean and smelling like the house, a much better scent than the stitched to your clothes. He sends it to you via magic, wanting you to come to him when you’re ready.

When you approach him, he gives you a comforting smile and pats the bed beside him. He grabs your hand and massages it slowly, telling you that he’ll be here for you if you need anything. You can talk to him or choose not to, and he won’t pressure you in the slightest. You can take your time to talk to him. He feels a bit bad that he can’t tell you that everything will be okay, he knows it will, so sure of it that he’d bet himself on it, but it isn't what you want to hear. You just need to know that he’s right there by your side.

For now, you’re okay. You’re safe in his room and he likes being an older brother- at least to a few. He likes to spoil people rotten, and he gets to do that with you. You get to have everything good and shiny. You’re going to be okay when you stick with him, because he won’t let anything happen to you. He’s going to be your new home, your new big brother.

The process is tough, and he doesn’t rush anything. It’s subtle with Asmodeus and being ever so careful with his appearance, he makes sure to take care of yours. Mental health is so fragile and he just wants you to be okay. He’ll offer substitutions if certain activities can feel a bit too difficult for you, but he doesn’t push too much. You still have to take care of yourself and it might feel overbearing, but he needs to take care of you.

Beelzebub:

Family means everything to Beelzebub. At the very end of it, it’s part of the core of who he is. He feels your pain and is empathetic when you tell him what happened and he holds you close, letting you rest on his bed as he sits on the edge with a comforting hand rubbing circles on your back. He’s a demon, he knows just how cruel others can be, and yet, to see someone hurt someone as young as you, it makes him sick.

Your tears hit him hard and he can only hug you as you cry into him about your situation. There are too many emotions inside of you and it must be so difficult for you to handle all of them and he wishes he could help take that away, but he can only hold you and make sure that you sleep in a position that won’t hurt your neck once the tears have tired you out. It’s the little things that he does for you until you come to him and explain everything to him, and he’ll listen and won’t interrupt.

During this time, he tries to not be imposing. He doesn’t want you to run from him so he’ll give you time to come to him when you’re ready. He checks up on you often, knocking on your door and entering with a few snacks. He’ll stay if you ask him and talk to you about mundane stuff. A part of him wonders if that’s really what you want to hear, but he can’t say anything different. He doesn’t know what it is that you want to hear and he doesn’t want to pressure you any further. Anyways, it seems like you like to listen to him during these moments. Maybe, he provides a nice distraction.

He’ll always make sure that he has his phone on him in case you need him. He’s told you before that you can contact him whenever you want, and that he’ll come running to you. He’s sure it’s his big brother instincts taking over. He may be the sixth brother, but it doesn’t remove the fact that he has a twin. It’s only by his power that he ranks sixth. With you, he can be a big brother and be the cool and caring type that takes care of you. You can always come to him whenever you need something and he’ll make sure to give you whatever you want.

It comes to no surprise that you two develop a strong bond and you start to stick to him and he welcomes that. He won’t leave you alone unless you ask him to and he always makes sure to include you in whatever activity he has. During lunch, he’ll sit with you and listen to you and he’s glad that you're starting to feel better around him. You’ve both grown quite attached and he tries to do good by you. Beelzebub will give you whatever you need because beside his twin, you’re the youngest in the family. He’ll reassure you that nothing is your fault, that you’re only a child and that you’ll be okay. You’ve been there for him and he’ll be there for you.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #big brother vibes!!#for all!!#or least four #theyd care a lot #theyd be clunky and unsure how to deal with it #but they would #they care

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koolkat9 · 3 years ago

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FrUk Week 2021: Day2

@hetaliashipsweek

Prompt: Childhood/Old Age

Paring: FrUk

Word Count: 2012

The Luckiest Man Alive

They had been married for fifty years. It still was hard for Arthur to believe. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful, but at the back of his mind, there had always been that lingering thought that Francis would finally notice all his shortcomings and leave him. At least over the years, that voice had quieted immensely and Arthur learned to allow himself to be happy without worrying that it would be taken away from him.

If someone had told five-year-old Arthur that the annoying little French boy in his class would eventually become his lover, he would have kicked them in the shins. No way he could ever like someone as snobbish as Francis. The boy never failed to insult Arthur’s ‘fashion sense’ or steal his pencils. Then again it probably didn’t help that Arthur had the tendency to pull Francis’ hair and steal his books. By the first grade, things had escalated to the point the two physically and verbally fought on the daily. There were a lot of punches, bruises, and meetings with the principal during those elementary school years, but for some reason, they always kept coming back to each other.

Middle school rolled around and life got complicated. During the final years of elementary school, Arthur’s mother had been diagnosed with a serious illness. What that illness was was never revealed to Arthur even after her death, but that didn’t stop it from tearing the family apart. He had never gotten along with his brothers, but with their mother being in and out of the hospital and pressure being added onto all of them, especially Alister, they began taking out their stress on each other. They fought every day with some confrontations turning physical (on both ends). After a particularly bad fight, Arthur showed up to school with a black eye. At lunch Francis inquired about it, pushing him until he snapped and shoved Francis against the locker, hissing, “My mom’s sick and my brothers hate my guts so shut up or you’re going to be my punching bag.”

For once, Francis was shocked, and instead of shoving Arthur back, his gaze softened as he said, “I’m so sorry to hear that Arthur.” Before he could do anything else, Arthur pulled away and took off down the hall. It wouldn’t be the last argument that ended with secrets being revealed. At least both had enough respect not to bring them up again.

By the time high school rolled around, the few friends Arthur had made over his childhood years had moved away or went to the other high school in town. The only person he knew going in was Francis and once more the two of them gravitated towards each other, but this time it wasn’t for a fight. Arthur was tired. His mother had passed away a month before school had started and the feeling of home left with her. The Brit had become a shell of his former self, often isolating himself in the school library during his free time and throwing himself into his school work. He didn’t socialize unless he had to for class and began avoiding Francis like the plague. It began to worry Francis and around Christmas of their first year, Francis cornered Arthur in the library, ready to get to the bottom of whatever was eating at his enemy. Surprisingly it was easier than he thought as the Brit quickly broke down and through tears began explaining everything. The fact his mom died, that he was sick and tired of arguing with his brothers and has been couch hopping for a couple of weeks because he didn’t want to go home, and every other minor inconvenience that had been building up in his life.

Francis was stunned into silence, but before Arthur could run away like he always did when things got too personal, the French boy pulled him into a tight embrace. And Arthur let him, too tired for any struggle or to push his emotions deep down again. Francis had invited him to stay over that night and Arthur had accepted though he was hesitant. There were no arguments or fighting for once and instead they talked about other things, interests, classes, other normal teen stuff. It was nice and for the first time in the past three years, Arthur felt safe and comfortable.

After that fateful day, fights between them grew few and far between. They still bickered and argued, but it was now a more friendly matter. Francis introduced Arthur to his new friends Antonio and Gilbert and the four would remain friends well into adulthood and even old age. They were annoying just like Francis, but they also cared about him and were there for him when he needed it. But he could really do without the constant jab that Francis and he were like ‘an old married couple.’

College is when Arthur’s feelings of friendship started becoming feelings of romantic love. Francis had found a cheap apartment not far from their school and the two decided to rent it together to save money. They fell into quite a domestic routine. Francis cooked for him since Arthur could never make anything not burnt while Arthur did the dishes. Francis did laundry while Arthur folded and put the clothes away. Arthur would go out to the small garden on their balcony and Francis would join him a few minutes later with water or juice and a little snack for them. Francis had a lot of morning classes so Arthur would wake him up with a cup of coffee or tea. Arthur finally felt at home and he realized he wanted to live with Francis for the rest of his life. He tried to deny it at first, but each time Francis smiled Arthur felt his insides melt and whenever he called his name in the soft moments of the evening, he imagined being called to cuddle with him. He loved Francis, but he was too scared of possibly losing him if his feelings became known. After all, their relationship had already been turbulent, why shake it up even more?

Although they may have been getting along better than they ever had, they were still Francis and Arthur, prideful through and through and unable to go too long without some form of argument. Things were starting to build up on Arthur again with school and his growing feelings and he was starting to become more snappy than normal. They had had a few of their friendly arguments before, but eventually, everything became too much and Arthur went off at Francis when the Frenchman pushed a little too hard. “I thought we told each other everything,” Francis screamed.

“Shut up!”

“No. Not until you get it through your thick skull that pushing things down until they boil over is not healthy. I don’t even know why I bother? You’ve never listen-”

Next thing either of them knew, Arthur had Francis pinned against the wall, silencing him with a heated, angry kiss. As soon as Arthur noticed what he was doing, he pulled away, but not enough to let Francis go. The Frenchman looked at him, cheeks red, hair a mess, and eyes wide. Without a word they leaned in once more, connecting their lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

The following morning, Arthur awoke, wrapped up in Francis’ arms in Francis’ bed, clothes strewn around the room. For a moment, he allowed himself to admire the sleeping man next to him. Even with bedhead, Francis’ hair still looked beautiful and soft. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes closed, bare shoulder slightly exposed. He looked so peaceful and content which made Arthur’s heart flutter.

“Like what you see?” Francis asked, his eyes opening halfway and a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Sh-Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And Arthur did, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss on Francis’ lips. When he retreated back, embarrassment and doubt began setting. What did this mean now? Were they lovers? What if things didn’t end up well? He couldn’t bear to lose this man after everything they had been through. Maybe it was best to just forget what had happened and go back to being friends.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this,” Arthur stuttered out. He pulled the covers up defensively, trying to avoid that kind loving gaze.

Francis was quiet for a moment and when Arthur stole a glance at him, he almost looked disappointed. “You know?” Francis began, his smile quickly returning, “We don’t have to call it anything you don’t want to. You liked what happened last night right?”

“I-I suppose…”

“I did too. Would you want to do more than just that? Like cuddle, kiss, and all that?”

Arthur was silent as he thought it over, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “If it makes it easier,” Francis continued, “I wouldn’t mind doing that kind of stuff, but if you don’t want to...I won’t push.”

Francis really was perfect. Attentive, loving, respectful when it mattered. What did he see in Arthur who just seemed to be a ball of anger and pent-up feelings? But the knowledge they wouldn’t be making this an official thing (at least not yet), put Arthur at ease and he decided to accept it.

A couple months later, Arthur had worked up the courage to accept Francis’ offer of a date, and of course, being the thoughtful lover the man was, Francis provided him with the ideal date. They had gone to the park for a picnic lunch before heading to the theatre for a show. At night they cuddled up in Francis’ bed and fell asleep. It had been a pretty good day, but Arthur’s competitiveness had been sparked. Next date, he was planning it and he was going to impress Francis.

He got a reservation at the new French restaurant in town. Francis seemed to have enjoyed the food, but he said he could have always made such a meal at home. Arthur only rolled his eyes telling him that he was doing something nice for him so be grateful. Francis had giggled, making Arthur realize just how deep he was. It was exhilarating and a little nerve-wracking. After dinner, they headed out back to a garden area where a wishing well stood. “Do you have a coin?” Francis asked, peering into the well.

“You’re lucky, here.”

Francis pulled the coin to his chest closing his eyes before tossing it into the well with a plop.

“What did you wish for?” Arthur asked, peering down into the well.

Francis brought a finger to his lips with a wink. “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

Arthur’s nostalgia trip was interrupted by a pair of arms snaking around his waist and a firm kiss being pressed into his neck.

“What are you doing mon amour?” Francis asked in a low voice.

“Just...reminiscing.” Arthur lifted his hand, admiring the silver band on his finger. “Who would have thought we’d be here, like this, all those years ago.”

Francis chuckled. “Mhm. At least my wish came true.”

Arthur twisted his head to get a better look at the man behind him“Are you talking about that one you made on our second date?”

“Oui.”

“And what was it?”

“I would marry and spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You big sap.”

“Peut-être, but you love me for it.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, you wound me,” Francis exclaimed, clutching his chest.

The two lovers erupted into a fit of laughter before going in for a kiss. It was sweet and quick, matching the playful moment. I couldn’t last forever as Arthur noticed the time. “We better go pick up the boys from the airport,” he suggested, “they’ll be landing soon.”

Francis planted one more kiss on his forehead, before taking Arthur’s hand and pulling him out the door. Truly, Arthur was the luckiest man in the world and he had over fifty years' worth of evidence to prove it.

#frukweek2021 #frukweek #hetalia #hws #fruk #ukfr #human au #hws france #hws england #fluff #angst #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #old age #childhood #nostaligia

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rafael-silva · 3 years ago

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in the warmth of your embrace: a tarlos fic

TK goes home to Carlos after a hectic shift, and Carlos takes care of TK in the way the paramedic needs, which partly comes in the form of TK cuddling Carlos and running his fingers through the officer’s soft curls.

for good things happen bingo: tarlos + playing with the other’s hair

emotional hurt/comfort, softness, cuddles, kisses, soft boyfriends, tk and carlos are so in love

2.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

TK stumbles through the door, dropping his keys into the nearby bowl and lowers his duffel bag to the floor. He toes off his shoes near the entrance, stifling a yawn as he makes his way into the kitchen.

It had been a long, hectic shift, especially for the paramedics. Call after call kept them out of the firehouse for hours, barely even giving them enough time to grab a quick bite in between the radio coming to life with a new call.

He downs half of the cold water he pours into a glass, relishing in the cool liquid running down his dry throat. He loved saving lives, had truly found himself in it, but after exhausting shifts as this one, his knees barely able to carry him anymore, he longed for the moment he gets home to the comfort of his bed, to crawl into the loving and warm arms of his boyfriend.

It was Carlos’s day off, and the officer had spent it running errands and then had lunch at his parents’. Days when both of them aren’t working were a little difficult for them, being apart for many hours. Plus, their schedules haven’t been lining up well lately, making the time apart even harder.

At least when they were both working, Carlos would drop TK off at the firehouse, giving him a chaste kiss and a smile, promising to see him at home. TK returns the smile, reciprocating the promise and with one more echoed between them of please stay safe, they part ways, the knowledge that there are chances of them seeing either other sooner than that on calls bubbling in their stomachs.

But on days when one of them is off work, they try to spend as much lazy time in bed before one of them has to get ready to leave, exchanging sleepy smiles and kisses, mumbled good mornings and stealing some more cuddles under the soft sun rays shinning in through the curtains.

Eventually, though, the love spell has to inevitably be broken when the snoozed alarm rings. With a heavy sigh, one of them gets up, the other watching him with half lidded eyes, still sleepy around the edges. With a series of kisses from the forehead down to the lips, a goodbye is said, both already longing for each other after the first moment of separation.

The excitement at seeing Carlos simmers under TK’s skin, overriding his exhaustion as he climbs the stairs to their bedroom. The house is quiet, and he momentarily thinks Carlos might have fallen asleep, but he soon spots the soft yellow glow originating from the room and knows the officer is most likely still awake.

His gut is proven right when he stops in the doorframe, his eyes landing on Carlos. Carlos is sitting up in their bed, back against the headboard, wearing sweats and one of his old police academy t-shirts. His knee is pulled up towards his chest, an open book resting on his thigh, one TK recognizes is always on Carlos’s nightstand.

But that’s not what really captures TK’s attention, it’s Carlos’s eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his loose curls hanging over his forehead that catch the paramedic’s eyes and they linger there.

He leans against the doorframe, arms going to cross over his chest as he watches his boyfriend, a smile spreading on his face. And by the way his curls run wild and free, TK can tell Carlos had just gotten out of the shower.

Carlos is so immersed in the reading material, TK can tell by the slight crease in his eyebrows, but he immediately senses TK’s arrival and presence by the door. There’s always been a tug between them, an invisible string connecting them. They always gravitate towards each other, even in their sleep, their connection cosmic and powerful.

Carlos looks up from his book and a blinding smile takes over his face, reaching his glittering brown eyes.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos greets. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A minute or so,” TK replies as he steps into the bedroom, walking over to Carlos. “I love watching you read, you know that.”

“Mhm,” Carlos nods, a light blush painting his cheeks as he gently cups TK’s face and returns the kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs happily, allowing himself to feel all of Carlos and to melt against him.

“Welcome home,” Carlos whispers into the small space between them when they separate.

“It’s good to be home,” TK whispers back, leaning into Carlos’s touch and goes in for another soft kiss, resting his hands against the mattress on either side of Carlos to balance himself.

“How was your day?” Carlos asks, watching TK move over to the closet to get changed out of his uniform.

“It was alright, hectic and super busy though,” TK replies as he tugs his shirt out of his pants and starts to unbutton it.

Carlos marks the page and closes the book, returning it to the nightstand. He then goes to remove his round eyeglasses but stops when TK speaks.

“Oh, no, that stays on,” TK smirks.

An eyebrow travels up Carlos’s forehead behind his glasses. “Oh?”

TK shrugs and bites down on his lower lip, his cheeks turning pink. “I like it, you should wear it more often.”

Carlos adjusts the transparent frame as he chuckles.

TK gets on the bed, a knee supporting his body as he leans over to plant a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “It’s sexy,” he whispers. “And cute.”

“As long as it ticks both those boxes,” Carlos winks.

“Oh, it definitely does,” TK confirms with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he continues to change into something more comfortable. “And I see you’ve finally gotten around to continue it,” he gestures to the now closed book.

Carlos nods. “I had to reread a couple of chapters to get back on track but it’s good, and there was some free time after coming home from my parents’ to really get back into it.”

“Yeah, I would imagine you’d have to do that after months of not having time to read. And how was lunch?” TK asks, slipping an old NYFD t-shirt on and then sweats.

“It was lovely,” Carlos smiles. “Mom and dad really missed you there, though. Made me promise to bring you over for another lunch as soon as possible.”

“I really wish I could have been there,” TK sighs, plugging his phone into the charger. “And here’s hoping our schedules line up better next week so we can do that.”

“Amen,” Carlos agrees. “Come here,” he lifts and opens his arm in TK’s direction. “You’re exhausted,” he adds, noticing his boyfriend is mere seconds away from toppling over.

TK nods, going to remove the duvet on his side and flicking it near the foot of the bed and gets in. The feeling of the soft mattress underneath his spent body is heavenly, but it’s nothing compared to the true comfort he feels as he rests in Carlos’s arm and tucks his face into the officer’s neck.

“I got you,” Carlos reassures, his arm going around TK’s shoulder and pulling him against him even more.

“You always do,” TK replies, brushing a kiss to the exposed skin of Carlos’s neck. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you, too, baby,” Carlos responds and presses a kiss to the top of TK’s head. “Texting will never be the same as seeing you on one of those calls.”

“Yeah,” TK agrees. “And we didn’t do much of that either thanks to the never-ending calls we got.”

“You saved lives, and I’m so proud of you, babe,” Carlos expresses, his voice coated with so much love and admiration for the younger man.

TK replies with another kiss to Carlos’s neck. “I never would have been able to make the change to paramedic without you. You guided me and supported me, your words gave me the final push I needed and your encouragement every day means more than words can express.”

“I’ve got your back, Ty, always,” Carlos vows.

“And I’ve got yours,” TK vows back.

“Is there anything you need?” Carlos asks, his hand moving up and down TK’s arms in the way he knows calms TK.

“Just this. Just you, ‘Los, you’re all I need,” TK replies with a smile.

“You’ve got me,” Carlos says and the kiss he gives TK this time is brushed against his temple.

TK nuzzles closer to Carlos, almost like he wants to disappear into his boyfriend and Carlos understands. On days like these, days that take a big toll on TK, TK is often in need of anchoring and grounding, and Carlos has learned over the months of their relationship that taking care of TK in the aftermath of said days takes on many forms. The officer has also gotten pretty good at knowing how to offer the comfort TK needs without TK having to ask for it.

He would have run a bath for TK and guided him to the bathroom when he returned home, knowing that the warm water and feeling Carlos’s touch would help TK, but after seeing just how tired TK was and how TK so eagerly gravitates towards him, Carlos knows exactly what TK needs.

TK needs to feel Carlos under his touch, to hold him close, to melt into him.

Knowing this in his heart, Carlos shifts, and TK lets out a disapproving noise at the movement.

“Trust me,” Carlos says, slightly pulling back from TK.

TK frowns as they separate, not yet catching up to what Carlos is doing. He realizes Carlos’s plan when the cop positions his body in front of TK’s, his back now to TK’s chest and TK wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Carlos and pulling him close. It’s almost an automatic response, TK needing to be close to his boyfriend.

TK, now holding Carlos, drops a kiss to the back of the officer’s head while running the pads of his fingers over Carlos’s clothed stomach.

Their breathing syncs, slow and steady as Carlos’s hand goes to cover TK’s and he intertwines their fingers together.

TK’s other hand then moves to Carlos’s head and he begins carding his fingers through the soft curls there, Carlos humming in approval as TK weaves through the strands.

TK smiles when Carlos leans into his touch, knowing how much Carlos loves this and how it relaxes him. More than once, Carlos had fallen asleep while TK ran his fingers through his hair as they cuddled in front of the television.

“I love your curls like this,” TK’s voice breaks the comfortable silence that had fallen over them.

He twirls a curl around his finger, watching it scrunch back into place when he lets it go.

“I appreciate your days off because you don’t gel up your hair,” TK continues.

“Oh, is that the only reason you appreciate my days off?” Carlos asks, and TK can pretty much hear the smirk in his voice.

TK chuckles, the vibrations reaching Carlos’s body through their connection, making him smile.

“Not the only reason,” TK replies. “Your cooking is another reason I highly appreciate your days off.”

It’s Carlos’s turn to chuckle, nodding.

“But it doesn’t compare to our mutual days off and all the free time we get…” TK trails off, his voice suggestive and low against Carlos’s ear.

“Mhm,” Carlos agrees in a heartbeat. “Can’t wait for more days off together.”

Carlos lifts their connected hands and brushes a kiss to TK’s knuckles, TK squeezing Carlos’s hand in response. The tension eases and seeps from TK’s body and peace falls upon the couple.

“Feeling better, baby?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah,” TK nods, further anchoring himself through holding Carlos.

Carlos smiles and leans back against TK some more, knowing it’s helping TK.

He doesn’t exactly know what had happened during TK’s shift, if he had a rough call or something of the sort, but Carlos doesn’t push, also knowing that TK might shut down if he isn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Over the course of their relationship, Carlos had learned to give TK some space, that that was the best way to get TK to open up. The months of their relationship have helped Carlos know the difference between TK’s silences, being able to differentiate between those moments when TK is spiraling and needs a hand, and the ones where he’s composing his thoughts and processing his emotions.

There’s subtle differences between those silences, in TK’s demeanor and even engraved in his expressions. And Carlos has learned to tell the difference.

It wasn’t easy at first, his instinct to help TK and to be there for him overriding what he knew was true. Time had proven fruitful, though, and TK started to open up to Carlos more easily and more frequently. Of course, Carlos knew it was also thanks to their developing relationship and the trust built between them, but he also knew not pushing TK to talk had something to do with it, too.

So as TK runs his fingers through Carlos’s hair, gently massaging his scalp as he goes, Carlos knows TK is collecting his thoughts, figuring out his feelings, before talking to Carlos about it.

TK’s process happens in one of two ways, either he goes on a full rant, letting everything sink in as he speaks, usually while pacing back and forth or in moments like these, quiet moments, where it all happens inside his head and it’s those moments he needs something or someone to hold on to.

And Carlos trusts that TK will come to him when he’s ready.

“Wanna sleep, babe?” Carlos whispers.

“In a bit,” TK replies. “Just wanna stay like this for a little longer.”

Carlos nods as TK’s arm tightens around him and he wiggles against TK’s chest, getting more comfortable.

Carlos can tell TK also needs some more time for his mind to calm, for the racing thoughts to quiet down and he’s willing to stay like this for as long as TK needs.

“Thank you for this, ‘Los,” TK whispers, fingers still combing through Carlos’s curls, grounding them both.

“Always, baby.”

Eventually, TK’s heart rate starts to decrease, Carlos feeling the tranquility against his back and he knows TK will soon fall asleep.

“Come on,” Carlos says as he begins to shift, realizing how tired TK is at the lack of response from the paramedic at the officer’s movement.

TK nods and lets Carlos maneuver him, but he pauses, looking at TK.

“Okay if I take them off now?” Carlos asks, his tone a little teasing as he takes hold of his glasses.

TK nods. “I’d hate for them to break. But keep them close,” he winks.

Carlos chuckles, taking off his glasses and folding the handles, gently placing them on the nightstand near his phone.

Carlos switches off the light and the soft moonlight glow immediately shines into their bedroom. They shuffle in bed for a few moments before settling down, Carlos now holding TK, the gesture offering wordless comfort.

Carlos drapes his arm over TK’s middle, pulling him closer into his chest and then brushes a soft kiss to the side of TK’s neck.

“Get some rest, baby, we’ll deal with everything tomorrow,” Carlos murmurs.

TK lets out a content sigh and in the safety of Carlos’s hold, engulfed in Carlos’s scent and everything that is Carlos, he drifts off.

And wrapped in Carlos’s arms, TK is truly home.

(Carlos wearing eyeglasses was inspired by the photo Rafa posted on his Instagram story a while back!)

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a-dorin · 4 years ago

Text

bathed in gold

pairing: maul x reader

word count: 1.112k

warnings: none really! some fluff, a few curses here and there. cuddling, maul being a sap. maul showing emotion.

a/n: i really have nothing to say other than this was my first post in a while during an almost month long writing slump. it’s very self-indulgent so i apologize for all the sweet fluff. it’s prolly sickeningly sweet :’)

“have you seen him anywhere? i can’t seem to find his whereabouts.”

you fold your arms across your chest as you anticipate an answer, heart thudding your chest. your palms were clammy, a bead of sweat threatening to form on your forehead, just an inch or so below your hairline.

this was not something that happened very often. if anything, it was rare. he was always so open with you, communicating his next move or venture. surely he didn’t leave the palace without telling you. that was so... unlike him.

all around you, members of the death watch pace about, the sound of boots scuffing against the floor echoing through the vast space. to your left, the throne was empty, nothing but a shadow filling the seat.

so where was he now?

“i-i’m not su-sure,” the poor boy was nearly stumbling over his words, running a hand through his blond curls, “if you would like, i can dispatch a search party. i am sure we could track him down within a matter of minutes--”

“that will not be necessary, oli,” you raise a hand, an exasperated sigh slipping from from your lips, “go about your normal duties, and do not raise any alarm or panic. the last thing i need is the death watch tearing apart this palace.”

“of course,” oli nods, a little too quickly, “shall i alert you if we find him?”

“please,” you chew at your lip, your line of sight fixated on the throne, “alert me immediately, all right?”

“as you wish, your highness,” oli dips his head one last time, before turning to reunite with the group of crimson warriors.

there’s an exchange of lowered voices. more than likely a strategy. a game plan of sorts. where to scatter.

where to begin the search in the endless labyrinth of a palace.

swallowing thickly, you swivel on your heel, mind reeling at the thought of his sudden disappearance.

he did enjoy his solitude, his time away from all of the frivolous tasks and duties, but he was not one to just leave unannounced.

at least, without your knowledge.

rays of light descend through the viewports, streaks of gold dancing all around, illuminating areas that were once cloaked in darkness. it was approaching the evening hours, the sun well on its way to dip below the horizon.

exhaling, your lashes flutter, briefly savoring the way the sunlight warmed your skin.

snapping your eyes open, you blink once.

perhaps you had an idea of where your lover wandered off to.

there is nothing but the sound of your steps bouncing off the walls as you make your way to your shared quarters, the pace nearly a light jog. coming to a halt, you place your hands on the doors, throwing them open.

your heart skips a beat.

he’s perched on a chair, draped in nothing but his trousers as he soaks in the sun. the light bathes him completely, casting a golden glow on his skin. the once inky black tattoos glitter with a honey hue, the crimson now cast with the same shade.

his eyes are eyes closed, lips curved into a content grin.

he’s bathed in gold, basking in it.

and maker, how he looked so beautiful like this.

an eye opens into a slit, taking in your presence. from the look of it, you’re visibly irate. your brow is furrowed, lips drawn together in a tight frown. yet, as the light cascades across your features, the rhythm of his hearts intensifies, captivated for just a moment.

perhaps he should do this more often.

just to catch a mere glimpse of your face when it’s bathed in the golden light from the sun as it slips away.

oh, how completely and utterly radiant you were as you stood before him.

a rumble sounds in his throat, “well good evening to you, love.”

your jaw clenches at his casual tone, fists balling up, “you’re a little shit, you know that?”

his mouth falls into a frown, a hand gravitating towards you, reaching out, “i didn’t mean to make you so upset. you’re practically drowning in your own worry. why don’t you come over here, and i can apologize?”

“you never just up and disappear like that!” you spit out, throat tightening with fury, “you’ve always been by my side, always telling me where you’re going and when you’ll return. you had me in a panic, you know that? even your own men and women were all up in arms, wondering where you ran off to.”

the zabrak sucks in a breath, rising to his feet. padding over to you, two arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in. for a second, you nearly collapse under his touch. how tender and warm it was. how his scent flooded your nostrils, so achingly comforting and familiar.

you sense the flurry of breaths against your temple, followed by a light kiss, “i had no intentions of hurting you, love. is there anything i can do to make up for my escapade?”

“don’t do it again.”

his chest vibrates, a hearty chuckle erupting from his throat, “oh my love, i would never dream of it. i am sorry for how worked up you got over it, i should have told you i wanted to sunbathe for a while. it was nice out today, and i got a little nap in too.”

“you irritate me,” you bury your head deeper into his chest, “i was so worried.”

“i could see it all over your face,” he plants another kiss, the frustration within you dissolving, “you know, you’re quite cute when you’re angry.”

“i’m not amused,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

a hand drifts upward, grasping your chin. your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes meet his, “are you going to forgive me?”

amber depths pull you in momentarily, encased by a ring of scarlet. you blink, entranced by the warmth flooding his gaze. it was a bright warmth, promising nothing but adoration and affection. a soft, gratifying warmth.

“perhaps i’ll forgive you.”

“do i need to call off the search party?” maul presses, a smirk painting his lips, “i’m shocked that so many of my loyal subjects are so concerned about my well-being. typically it’s just you.”

“you were so close to being forgiven,” you snort, “till you pulled that shit.”

lips collide against yours, the zabrak bringing you in for a kiss. it’s fiery, bursting with passion as his tongue glides against your lower lip, seeking entrance. your knees nearly buckle, bliss rippling within you. seconds later, he pulls away, a throaty purr filling the air.

“oh my love, did i ever mention to you how beautiful you are when you’re bathed in gold?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

taggin’ some maul moots: @xcertaindarkthingsx @anakinswhore @elenamiria @maulieber @justalittlecloud @hounding-around

#maul #darth maul #maul x reader #darth maul x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #maul fluff #darth maul fluff

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bunnyofnegativeeuphoria · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt Fill: “Cold”

I’m what they like to call not a clown but the entire circus. I’ve managed to delete one of the asks by accident, but rest assured I did see an anonymous prompter wish for “cold” or something to that effect...

Dear reader, it’s 3,3K words, so here we fucking go, lads.

Islanders

Cleaned up and now also on Ao3

“A room and a bath,” Geralt says without even glancing at the barman, attention fully on the precious cargo in his arms.

“Hang on, Witcher, you can’t just–”

“You’ll get your coin,” he grits through his teeth, “but whether your head is still attached to your neck when you do is for you to decide. Room and a bath. Now.”

A key lands on the countertop.

“Upstairs and second door on the right.”

The man shouts to someone behind himself. “Ilde! Hot water for the Witcher, sharpish!”

“Geralt?”

His senses turn from the foul stench of old ale and unwashed bodies and funnel inwards towards the shape of Jaskier. His bard moans softly and leans an icy forehead against Geralt’s neck.

“Hmm?” Geralt murmurs against Jaskier’s hair.

“C-cold.”

He reeks of misery, sharp and undeserved. A great shiver runs through Jaskier, and Geralt tightens his hold around him.

“Cold water will do,” he grunts at the barman.

“But–”

“As fast as you can,” Geralt says, grabbing the key and making for the stairwell.

***

Casting igni in the direction of the hearth, Geralt lays Jaskier out on top of a humble straw mattress and begins to undress him. There’s no cloak, and the fool’s doublet is wet through. It refuses to budge, but Geralt has one ear turned towards Jaskier’s heartbeat and doesn’t hesitate to rip apart the fabric to get to skin. It’s paler than it should be and cold to the touch – cold where on any other day it is warmth itself. His bard gravitates towards sources of heat like a stable cat to an opportune sunbeam, and to exist in his orbit is a blessing greater than any coin Geralt has ever earned.

The ruined doublet hits the floor with a squelch. Geralt moves to grab Jaskier’s breeches, but a shaking hand stops him.

“I-I r-rather lik-ked that ‘n,” Jaskier says, looking if anything even more unhappy than before.

His pulse spikes, and worry roils in Geralt’s gut.

“Doublets are replaceable,” he says. He spares a quick squeeze to Jaskier’s fingers before pulling the breeches and boots off in one desperate, inelegant action.

Jaskier is not a small man, but now, sad and shivering on the cusp of blue-tinged infirmity, he hunches and curls, reducing himself. Geralt misses his all-encompassing business.

“In here,” comes a voice from the hallway, followed by what looks like the barman and his entire family. Two boys roll a tub in and settle it in front of the fireplace, and the others empty several buckets worth of water into it.

“More, go on,” Ilde says, and the troop leaves as quick as they come, casting wary glances at Geralt’s swords as they go.

“W-we’ll h’ve t-to p-pay more,” Jaskier says.

Geralt frowns and throws a threadbare blanket on top of him, inadequate and dusty though it is.

“If they get the rest of the water within the minute, they can have double.”

“Not double. They’ll ch-cheat you. Always d-do.” Jaskier clasps at the blanket. His hands, normally so clever and expressive, jerk with exhaustion and looming danger. “Not-t worth it.”

“Let me account for what value I keep,” Geralt says. “Not hush. You have to conserve energy.”

Geralt sits down and takes a hold of Jaskier’s hands.

“W-what?”

“Shh.”

He wraps his giant paws around Jaskier’s hands, feeling wiry strength and a lifeline beneath the cold. Pressing his lips to the gap between his own thumbs, he blows warm air into the space between them. When he looks up after the third blow, he finds Jaskier looking at him. He smells less scared now. There’s a thought dancing on the tip of the bard’s tongue, but Geralt gives him a quelling look.

“Right,” Ilde says from the doorway, and buckets follow with the kind of efficiency born of a strong desire to done and elsewhere. In less than a minute they are alone once more, door closing with a firm press.

A steady stream of controlled fire erupts from Geralt’s hand, and he guides it across the surface of the tub until steam rises like from Roach’s back when she’s been safely put to bed in a warm stall after a day of cold and damp. The water ripples as he tests the temperature.

“G-Geralt?” Jaskier is sitting up, blanket having dropped to the ground. “C-can I?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says. Jaskier’s heartbeat has yet to settle, but his lips have lost their frosty stiffness. Though dry and cracked, they look pinker and plumper than before. “It’s all for you.”

Gathering Jaskier in his arms once more, he hurries to the tub. He lowers Jaskier as well he can, but when they break the water’s surface–

“Ow,” Jaskier hisses. “Ow, G-Geralt.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to–”

“Hurts,” Jaskier presses, turning his face into Geralt’s neck with the same blind faith as he had when Geralt had come across him only an hour earlier, sodden and lost on the mucky road to the northern realms. His face, however, is not defiant or proud. This is a quiet pain, and Geralt aches in a place he had long thought broken beyond the repair of all charity.

“I know. Shhh. Hold on to me,” he says. “All in one go.”

Hands tighten weakly around his arm, and then he sinks Jaskier into the tub.

He doesn’t yell.

He doesn’t yell, but he does whimper – small and vulnerable and a thousand leagues beneath the surface of what he is entitled.

Geralt pulls his arms away.

“D-don’t g–”

“I’m not.”

Stripping down with stern efficiency, Geralt gets in the tub himself, taking care to not jostle Jaskier. Water spills over the side as he guides Jaskier against his chest, making sure to move his medallion so the sharp angles of the wolf’s head don’t do him harm. It is cramped, and he settles in to cover as much of Jaskier’s surface area with his own body. They sit with their knees bent and peaking out of the water like make-believe islands – an archipelago of muscle and bone.

“How are you feeling?”

Jaskier breaths deeply and leans his face against Geralt’s shoulder.

“Like I’m b-being poked by a h-hundred n-needles.”

Geralt draws an arm around Jaskier’s chest, using his other hand to cover one of Jaskier’s knees.

“Rest.”

“I-I’m so...I shouldn’t h-hav–”

He shakes his head. Jaskier must feel it for he falls silent again.

“Rest.”

***

Jaskier falls asleep in the tub with Geralt wrapped around him like a giant octopus from out of a Skelligan skald. The rhythm of his heart gradually calms to his regular song – almost bird-like by Geralt’s reckoning. Twice he warms the bathwater, content to let his meditation be guided by the measure of Jaskier’s recovery. He wills his own warmth to seep from his skin and through Jaskier’s, and if something else should flow with it, then he reckons he is far too old to be duplicitous now.

“You needn’t stay on my account.”

Geralt looks down into the wild blue yonder.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

The thought sits awkwardly in him, pinching with the discomfort of new shoes.

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Jaskier–”

“Stay,” Jaskier says on the wave of a quiet exhale. Geralt watches the word’s traces whisk across the water and sends a small flicker of flame after it. Steam rises once more, and Jaskier sighs, and it sounds acceptably content.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. On the whole, practically divine.”

There’s a snobbish artfulness to Jaskier’s tone now, and Geralt allows himself the press of a smile against Jaskier’s hairline.

“Better or worse than a weekend with the Countess de Stael?”

“Darling, must you? I’ve quite reached my limit with humiliation for today.” There’s a tightness to his lips as Jaskier speaks, and Geralt frowns.

“Will you tell me why you were on the road, no cloak or lute to be seen?”

Jaskier looks down, and his scent turns abruptly with embarrassment, smelling faintly like something is burning.

“I suppose I’ll have to tell you.” He looks up with a tinge of defiance in his eyes, but it’s no hardship for Geralt to keep looking at him. “But you’ll have to earn it first.”

“Oh?”

“Wash my hair?”

There is life in his cornflower blues again, and that is reward enough for any challenge. Without a word, Geralt gets up and out of the tub. Water drips all over the creaky floorboards as he makes for the saddlebags brought up by one of the boys. His nose guides him to a bottle of oil scented with mild lavender, and he picks up a cup on his way back to Jaskier.

With pink-tinged cheeks, Jaskier watches him climb back in behind him.

“I didn’t mean–”

Geralt huffs.

“Yes you did. Hush.”

Cup in hand, Geralt guides Jaskier’s head into a tilt and scoops water over his hair, using his other hand to block the water from running into the bard’s eyes.

“You know, telling me to hush really isn’t as charming as your dour self might imagine.”

“Try sitting quietly in the knowledge of being,” Geralt says, feeling his lip twitch with the sort of maddening lack of control that eases into existence whenever Jaskier is around.

“Unbearable. Take that back.”

“Close your eyes.”

Jaskier closes his eyes immediately, and Geralt finds he has to swallow past all his want at the blatant display of trust. He spills some oil into his palms and wonders if Jaskier would let him do this if he knew the true shape of Geralt’s heart. Whole kingdoms believe it to be nonexistent or at the very least shrivelled and decaying. Jaskier thinks different. If he is to be believed, Geralt’s heart is like a honeyed bun – warm and dripping with a sweetness that Geralt knows was exterminated the second he saw Kaer Morhen rise in front of his too-young eyes. Little does Jaskier know that if you were to open Geralt’s chest and break it open past ribs and sinew and hold his heart, you would find it alternatingly smooth like silk chemises and rough with fingertip callouses, beating a rhythm to whatever tune it pleases.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Jaskier has tilted his head back even further to look at him nearly upside down.

“Sorry,” Geralt mutters, hurrying to start to run his hands through Jaskier’s hair. It is brown and short and soft to the touch. With every turn of his hands, he washes away the smell of Jaskier’s hurt and replaces it with lavender and his own touch.

“Did I say divine before? I must have lost my wits. This is my religion.”

Geralt feels a chuckle rumble up his throat and into the still bedroom air. Eyes closed again, Jaskier seems to settle in on his own terms, and Geralt is more than happy to let him.

“Did you know there was an inventor from the southern continent – further south even than Nilfgaard – who discovered the measurement for density by sitting in a bathtub?”

Jaskier prattles on about mathematics and science and a man running naked down cobbled streets, and Geralt lets the sound of his voice cleanse him of all worries. He finishes washing Jaskier’s hair, and rinses it with the cup. Afterwards, he gathers more oil and settles his hands across Jaskier’s shoulders. There’s a hitch in Jaskier’s throat as Geralt begins to gentle the oil into soft, pale skin.

“G-Geralt?”

Geralt frowns.

“Are you cold again?”

“No.” Jaskier’s voice sounds small.

“May I continue?”

Jaskier’s chest expands with a visible breath.

“Please,” he says, shoulders gaining a healthy dusting of pinkish glow. He starts talking again when Geralt continues to oil his skin, Jaskier moving on to a fevered and slightly panic-tinged monologue about the Cintran sonnet form.

Jaskier’s body is strong beneath him. His skin bears only a few scars from youthful mishaps and a characteristic refusal to be left behind. There is one running length of his back that he earned as a boy slipping down a rocky hill. Another – much smaller – has nicked his ear from when he did not move fast enough away from a drowner’s grasp. Geralt remembers tending to the wound in a furious silence, and he also remembers the apologetic look of abject misery that trailed him for a full week thereafter. It is the longest he has ever heard Jaskier be quiet, and he is grateful the bard has never again felt cause to curb his words in his presence.

I love him, Geralt thinks.

It’s not the first time he’s thought it, and he knows it will not be the last. He will carry the knowledge with him for however many centuries he may have left, and he will die with its truth glowing in every part of his body – an idea so well lived and nurtured that when his rotting corpse becomes earth once more around him will grow a ring made of dandelions and buttercups.

They have bathed together many times, but though Jaskier washes him after practically every monster fight, Geralt has until now not had the opportunity to return the favour. In the beginning he had no desire to. After that he had no cause to. Now, as he watches Jaskier’s nervous energy dispel at every gentle touch of Geralt’s hand, he thinks that perhaps he’s never needed more cause than that he wishes to.

Geralt may not have as much experience as Jaskier when it comes to bathing another person, but he finds it comes easy when he thinks of how Jaskier bathes him. He thinks of Jaskier’s hands on him, soothing touches on bruised skin – careful even when minor wounds have long healed. He thinks of clever fingers massaging his neck and back. He thinks of timid motions turning methodical with confidence for every evening spent plucking endrega entrails out of white hair. At Jaskier’s waist, Geralt’s hands still. He thinks of – he thinks of how he himself has only ever given impersonal washes to his brothers, cleaning the necessary wounds and skirting quickly past the groin to everyone’s better happiness. He thinks of two nights ago – on the cusp of their yearly parting – how Jaskier had cleaned his thighs, his hips, the vee of his abdomen…

He thinks of Jaskier with a washcloth, strong with tender caress between Geralt’s fingers – between Geralt’s toes.

He thinks of the care and acceptance that saturates every action.

He thinks Jaskier certainly deserves it. He deserves to have the same love – for love he now realises it is – reflected back at himself with as much willingness and devotion. And for that reason alone he shall have it.

Jaskier’s left knee has a thick scar on it from when he tried to ride Roach without permission and she dumped him in a field.

“Darling? Your face looks very Geralt-y.”

He looks to see Jaskier’s face inches from his own.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Brooding? Plotting? Dreaming? I haven’t the foggiest. What are you thinking about?”

“I think our knees look like islands.”

Silence falls save for the occasional sound of a drop of water hitting the now tepid bath and the comforting crackle of the fireplace. Geralt feels Jaskier’s toe twitch next to his own before he shifts, leaning back against Geralt’s chest, and raises his leg straight up into the air.

“I suppose that makes our leg hairs the islanders,” Jaskier says in such perfect sincerity.

Geralt swallows.

“Where is your lute?”

He feels rather than hears Jaskier’s sigh as he puts his leg back into the water.

“Hopefully still back at the Squealing Pig.”

For a second, Geralt is stunned.

“Wh–”

“I left it–”

“On purpose?”

Geralt doesn’t think his eyebrows could rise any higher if he willed them to.

“Of course not! Well, perhaps. Not really, though. It’s hard to explain.”

“Explain.”

“You left.”

As if in agreement, they both pause to let that short truth hang in the air like a brightly coloured flag.

“I left because it’s winter. We always part for winter.”

“I know.”

“You even hugged me goodbye and waved me off.”

“I know.”

“You–”

“I know.” Jaskier digs his forehead into Geralt’s clavicle so hard it hurts, but Geralt finds he has no intention to ever ask him to move. “I know I did, and then I woke the next day, and you were gone, and I felt like something was missing, and then I forgot my lute and my bag and my cloak, and I set off after you.”

There’s a warmth brewing beneath Geralt’s skin, and it ignites at every touchpoint shared between them.

“And then it snowed,” he says.

“And then it snowed,” Jaskier says, “and it was too late to go back, but I didn’t have my cloak, and I didn’t have my lute so I could play my way to a room. So I kept walking, but it was so cold, and I got lost, and then…”

I love him, Geralt thinks.

“And then you fell asleep in the woods,” Geralt says.

Jaskier rests his hand over Geralt’s heart.

“And then you found me,” he says.

“And you scared me half to death,” Geralt says.

“And here we are.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt sounds and does not know what to say. Words leap out of Jaskier like pufflballs in a summer breeze, scattering dandelion seeded meaningfulness all across the northern continent. He doesn’t know what to say, and so he gentles his hand down Jaskier’s side, curls his legs up more, and brings Jaskier even closer to him. Jaskier gasps into his neck as Geralt settles him in his lap, and then – slowly, tentatively, achingly – arms come around Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt turns his head and nudges Jaskier’s nose with his own, their foreheads resting together in a pleasure so perfect that where he to die in the morning he would do so with the knoweldge that he knew the touch of happiness.

Hands caress through his hair and cup the side of his face, a thumb stroking back and forth over his cheek, and he can feel it’s well pruned from the water. Jaskier gasps again, almost as if on a sob, but no tears come.

“Geralt, I–” he croaks, faltering as he draws the knuckles of his right hand up and down Geralt’s neck. “Geralt, I think you’re the most magnificent…”

He tightens his arms around Jaskier and feels his every breath dance across his lips.

“I think you’re the most magnificent person I’ve ever met. You’re–” Jaskier laughs and shakes his head so their foreheads rub together. “Geralt, I don’t even have the words, I–”

“I do,” Geralt says.

Jaskier blinks.

“Y–you do?”

I love him, Geralt thinks.

“I love you,” Geralt says, not for a second looking away from Jaskier’s face so that he may see the hope, the surprise, and the happiness write themselves across him like an open book. And here they come, and there they go, and here love is to stay.

Jaskier makes a noise – relief and desperation all in one – and then cracked lips are on his own, and Geralt kisses back. He kisses soft, he kisses gentle, and he kisses joy.

“You really did know what to say,” Jaskier laughs.

“Mmm,” Geralt says, kissing him again.

Jaskier cups his face between both hands.

“Dear heart, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says and draws breath as if to continue on forever and ever.

Geralt kisses him one more time, feeling Jaskier’s lips curve up into a helpless smile.

“Not the most complicated rhyme scheme you’ve ever come up with, my lark,” he murmurs.

“Darling,” Jaskier laughs, “I’ll write you so many songs.”

Liked it? Prompt me!

#bunnywrites #bunnyhaswritten #bunnywrote #bunnyask #bunnyfic #geraskier #the tub #the witcher #prompt fill #Geralt #jaskier #no roach #but you know she carried these losers on her back on the way to the village #and after this they go back for jaskier's lute #and then they go to kaer morhen or oxenfurt for the season #you know how it is #sorry if there are spelling mistakes #it's 4am and i'm tired

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inscribed-in-asteroids · 3 years ago

Text

AN: Took a while but here’s chapter six! Make sure to reblog and like, or leave comments and kudos on AO3, which is still the best place to read it.

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak and Entrapta, feat. Glimmer, Bow, Aurora and Eon (OCs)

Rating: M (for smut)

Repairing Harm Done

Hordak walks through the center of their new home away from home. Entrapta and he share their enjoyment of space, and going on adventures with her has been some of the greatest years of his life; however, Beast Island has been transformed into a multicultural landscape, where anyone could come here if they wanted, and stay here if they chose. While Odessa has been away with her friends, they opted to expand the lodgings here to accommodate growing numbers. Talon and he weren’t the only ones with children, and even without offspring, his siblings were finding life partners, and to add on top of that, visitors from nearby planets come to Etheria as well and, sometimes, like it so much they wish to remain.

Upon this realization, they made an organization to discuss blueprints, schedules and funding for such a project. The funding was no issue: Glimmer and Bow were more than happy to aid them, and have visited the island several times now to see what else was needed. It wasn’t necessarily money they needed, either, as everything on Beast Island was based on a trade system and very loosely; they have utilized the technology on the island well, and created elaborate new machines for daily living. Glimmer and Bow, simply put, love being involved. They offer their expertise, Bow on his own inventions and Glimmer with her magic, but they were enthusiastic to be present at all.

He notes his brothers above him in the trees, connecting large trunks with man-made bridges, where a community of apartments will be launched high above them. The groves are to be interconnected this way, allowing for more freedom of development and making use of every inch of the island, eventually establishing long pathways that will join all shores of the island. This will be the new dwelling place for many of the citizens on Beast Island, while the area he’s moving through will serve as the marketplace, with recreational centers, hospitals, schools and restaurants lined throughout the ground floor. They have been constructing it for a while, but high demand has allowed for a speedier process to take place. Underground it will be primarily used for laboratories, as he and Odessa have the largest ones. It’s also their excavation site for First Ones tech, which they still continue to find more than twenty years later, the deeper into the earth they go; it’ll also serve as their mausoleum, for when those days come.

Animals chirp in the branches, shadows moving along his frame. Looking up, he meets the eyes of his brothers hammering boards into place, and they wave down at him. Being in a good mood, he waves back—

A sharp pang goes up his shoulder. Wincing in surprise, Hordak holds his hand up for a moment. Confused, he shakes off the sensation and continues toward the direction of his residence. Opening the door, Hordak steps inside.

“Entrapta? I’ve returned,” Hordak announces.

No answer.

She must be out. Maybe he’ll go check up on Emily and Imp. The latter has been growing, which came as a surprise to everyone. No one believed Imp could actually get bigger. It’s about the time Imp needs to have tests run to check if he’s still healthy as his body develops, Hordak muses, beginning to climb up the steps—

His legs suddenly lock, and they buckle, causing him to sprawl on the floor. His palms and knees slam into the hard stone, sending waves of pain up his frame. Another shortly follows, stabbing through his body. And it’s never one type of stab—it’s sharp, a knife slashing through; or painfully dull, akin to being jabbed with a worn, flat spear. It may not cut, but it’s relentless. And he can’t ever tell which is worse.

Trying to stand, he finds himself unable to. He pushes up with his hands, and the pain stings up his nerves, all the way to his neck.

Hordak lets out a breath of shock, of anger, of fear.

No.

No no no no no no no—

He looks down at his hands, and the color recedes—the blue drains, melting from elbow down, streaks forming along his wrist, and he can feel them weaken at the shoulder.

Hordak yells out loud, hunched over from the agony, watching as his forearms split in two without warning right down the middle until they’re merely the width of bone within the muscles thinning blood flow slowing unable to move or feel or sense or know why—

Hordak lets out a cry of shock, jolting himself up. Breathing hard, he turns to his right. Moonlight cuts through the dark of his bedroom, the blinds never being tightly sealed enough for his liking. But for once, he’s relieved to see it.

His head falls into his hands, and he breathes in. Breathes out. He withdraws to look at them. His forearms show no signs of disease, stark in the dim room. His shoulders move as they should, and he rotates them to be sure. He claws the air with his fingers, two quick movements. Then he lets them go toward his palm, slowly, pinky first as the rest follow, moving in synchronicity. He repeats this motion four more times, and none of them hurt.

Entrapta shifts beside him, her arm reaching out for his body. Automatic. When she finds only the pillow, Entrapta opens her eyes. She props herself up on an elbow, reaching out to touch her husband.

“Hordak? Are you okay?”

Blinking, Hordak turns to look at her. Her hair is loose about her body, draping across her shoulders in long strands. She doesn’t wear clothes to bed, finding it more comfortable. She followed his example on that one. After decades of being in pain, he didn’t want to be constricted as he slept. It reminded him too much of how often he had to be bound in place by something or another to keep from falling apart. His body was attached by sinew and muscle, like anyone else, but it never felt like that. It always felt like one small gesture would render him incapacitated, and his shoulders would fall from their sockets.

Entrapta sits up, touching the small of his back, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Hordak sighs, “I… did.”

Entrapta brushes the side of his face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hordak reaches up to take her hand in his, “It… It was the usual dream.”

Sidling next to him, Entrapta lays her head on his shoulder, “I know. It’s scary.”

He lets out a breath, unable to disagree. Adora had fixed him, permanently, in that other lifetime. Horde Prime wouldn’t allow something defective in his midst, so his body had been healed at the expense of his mind’s free will. But when Adora expelled Prime out, he was released from the confines of both mental and physical anguish.

He knows this.

His body has not known that pain in many, many years.

But there are days when he’s walking, sitting, breathing, and his thoughts turn to anxiety. Anxiety about the day, the moment, when his body will fail him again. He exercises every day, relishing in the activity he had been denied. The strength and power and agility that he long forgot about and wishes to keep. He makes sure to have that routine set out for himself, to have those thoughts at bay, to stop worrying him. He recalls how nervous he’d been when Odessa had been born—to have his daughter in his arms, and he would panic about the pain coming back and he can’t grab her in time before she collapses onto the floor and she dies. In a second, just like that.

Pulling his knees up, Hordak stretches his arms out onto them, giving a heavy sigh.

Entrapta rotates a bit, brushing his hair out.

“Entrapta?”

“Yes?”

“Can you check?”

Without further question, Entrapta moves forward, inspecting his back first. She notes the perfect coloration of his body, from neck to fingertip. Drawing aside the covers, she makes similar mental notes from his hips down to his feet. She looks up at him, smiling, “You’ve never looked better!”

Hordak sighs, relieved.

Entrapta lays her cheek on his forearm, “And I do mean that.”

He meets her eyes, and she wiggles her eyebrows.

Hordak laughs, allowing the anxiety to leave him, “You’re a pervert.”

Entrapta’s grin widens, “Can you blame me?”

Hordak leans forward to kiss her forehead. And she tilts her head back so their mouths can touch. Her hand caresses the side of his cheek, and he relaxes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers, after a good while.

“Don’t worry about it,” Entrapta says. She pushes him onto his back, brushing her thumb along his mouth. “You’re not alone, you know.”

Hordak nods, staring up at the ceiling. Entrapta lays next to him, and she taps her chest.

Without a word, he turns, burying his face into her collarbone. Warm and inviting.

Her hands play with his hair, humming quietly. Stroking her fingertips down his neck, careful of the port located there. Entrapta doesn’t stop until he’s taking measured breaths, long and deep; once he does, only then does she fall back asleep.

Hordak steps out into the bright outdoors. Everything is in place. From the new construction in the trees, to the bustling shoppers around him, and, below, he knows Imp and Emily are taking ownership of Odessa’s lab while she’s away, as they tend to when she’s absent. Her friends are missed as well, and he will admit to himself, it’s good for her to have them.

Tristan’s general apathy tends to keep him anchored, but it lifts away as soon as he knows she’s back home, becoming more involved and energetic. Hydrangea’s eagerness to keep peace always stays in place, but she defers to Odessa’s knowledge and skill more often than with anyone else. Hordak knows that there could be no better allies to his daughter than those two.

They’ve been her friends since childhood, and they gravitated toward one another in a manner he found interesting. Despite being born a clone, he knows who he is, and he tends to keep to himself, save for Entrapta’s presence. His brothers tend to be more gregarious, which baffled him at first on how willing they were to interact with Etherians, and he surmised that, even among replicas, he stands out as incredibly reclusive. There are a few who took to his more stern and introverted nature, of course, he isn’t unique to averting social events, but he continues to have the shortest temper, if pushed enough, and is withdrawn. Talon is one of those individuals to match it, as he tends to be around his wife alone, but he doesn’t mind the spotlight, and that’s their difference.

Hordak’s gotten better at being around others, but he finds it exhausting after a while. Entrapta says that’s okay, and she wouldn’t change that about him and has outright stated to prefer it. Large groups are only ��fun’ to watch, not be part of.

Odessa, meanwhile, enjoyed company, and Tristan was the first person she brought home. Hydrangea and Odessa liked each other very much, which delighted Entrapta and Scorpia; however, Tristan’s addition caught them by surprise. Mermista wasn’t the warmest woman when it came to who associated with her son. Hordak knows that his actions from the past were to blame, but she hasn’t done anything to damage his child’s relationship with her companion, so he says nothing.

Hydrangea’s mother, Perfuma, is no different, though she tends to have a lenient grip. Which he knows is due to her bohemian attitude, rather than an acceptance of Odessa. She wouldn’t stifle her child, as she has asserted that children should be allowed to do as they please and grow up how they will. It’s not a sentiment he disagrees with—he gave Odessa all the freedom she wanted. Entrapta was the one to spoil her, and he took on the disciplinarian role, for when it needed to be done, but overall, he and his wife encouraged Odessa’s desire to do what she wanted. Sometimes, her strong personality could be overpowering for others, but she’s not a bad person.

Despite what others may think.

“How are you doing, hon?” Entrapta asks, getting up to his level.

“I’m doing fine,” he responds. “Did you need something from me?”

“No,” Entrapta smiles. “You always ask that.”

“Ask what?”

“If people need something from you.”

He pauses in his tracks, “Do I?”

“You usually ask that when I’m looking at you, or wondering how you are,” Entrapta states. “And when I say people, I mean just me. You don’t do it with others.”

Hordak looks at the ground, silent.

“That’s not a problem, Hordak! It’s an observation,” Entrapta assures him.

He doesn’t question it further, for now.

“Oh, hi, guys!” Entrapta says.

Hordak faces behind him, finding Glimmer and Bow waving at him. For a flash of a second, he’s stricken with concern, but remembers that they’re supposed to be here today. That must be why they were in his dream, and it has nothing to do with premonitions of impending doom.

“Hey! Hope we’re not late,” Bow says.

“You’re right on time!” Entrapta replies.

Glimmer smiles, “Good! I hope you don’t mind—we brought Aurora today.”

Hordak looks past them, their daughter standing near the portal. Utterly disinterested. Without thinking, he says to Glimmer, “Was it wise to bring her?”

She looks at him, surprised, before waving her hand and laughing, “Oh, Hordak, she’s fine! She’s a big girl. Aurora, come here please!”

Aurora’s expression belies her unwillingness to be present, a polite smile on her face.

He doesn’t want to be rude— Well, that’s not true, he wants to be rude. It just isn’t prudent. Aurora isn’t a person who tends to be engrossed in what’s going outside of her social circle.

Glimmer looks up at Hordak, “I brought her because as future queen, she needs to participate in what’s happening throughout Etheria. You and I are working on this together, so I figured she would benefit from learning how things work with other kingdoms outside of a council meeting!”

Hordak nods in understanding. Makes sense.

Entrapta looks at Aurora, “Hello!”

“Thank you for welcoming me,” Aurora curtsies.

“What’s first on the agenda?” Bow asks.

Entrapta laughs, “We’ll go up into the trees first! We’ve designed a mode of transportation that takes us all to the top!”

Hordak silently walks behind the group. Entrapta leads them to a lift that operates when people enter into the rectangular container, made of nearby materials, predominantly the wood and bark of trees, as they’re the sturdiest thing at the moment. It’s in its rudimentary stage, Entrapta explains, and hopefully it will be changed into solid metal soon, since they didn’t want to waste resources at once. They had to see if it worked first, and they needed to design a glass case to hold it. All of them are elevated toward the top, allowing them a view of everything below.

Glimmer looks over the side of the box, “Wow, where did you come up with the idea?”

“Remember Horde Prime’s ship? He had this sort of thing aboard. We figured it would help get people around easier,” Entrapta says.

“So, you took the contraption of someone deplorable and used it for yourself?” Aurora asks.

“Yep!” Entrapta says.

Glimmer stares at her child, and Bow’s brows rise an inch.

Hordak’s arms remain folded, glaring at the back of Aurora’s head. Not liking her tone.

She doesn’t approve of it. And while he may not like owing Prime anything, it isn’t conducive to advancement as a group to ignore advantages simply because it came from a heinous individual. Good people have bad ideas, and bad people have good ideas, it depends on how it’s used.

“I don’t see how this is sensible of your time,” Aurora says.

Entrapta laughs, “Not everyone can teleport like you and your mom! We have people who can’t jump and climb the way we can.”

Aurora gives a delicate sniff, unimpressed with the explanation.

Glimmer claps her hands together, “Well, I think it’s a phenomenal idea. Prime was a monster, but his ship was incredible.”

“Mama—” Aurora begins.

Bow points at the distant grove, “Oh, look, pookas! Aurora, these were the animals that I met with Adora while looking for Entrapta.”

“The very things that would’ve eaten you all, and my grandpa, alive. You don’t say,” Aurora dryly answers.

“They’re friendly now!” Entrapta corrects, hair morphing into a hand with a forefinger pointed up.

Aurora grimaces when a pooka chitters at her, stepping away.

Hordak comes forward, unable to deal with it any longer, “Perhaps, it would be better for Aurora if she went and explored on her own. There is a plethora of activity in the market, and the main thing we would all be discussing is infrastructure.”

Bow turns to him, “Oh, I don’t think it’s necessary for her to leave.”

Glimmer nods, his suggestion more than welcome, “Actually, he might be right. Sweetie, why don’t you go down and check things out?”

“Thank you, I will,” Aurora says, giving another polite smile. With that, she teleports to the ground.

Entrapta yells over the side, “Byyyeeee!”

Bow and Glimmer share a long glance at one another. Aurora is a pleasant young woman, and now at eighteen, she should be engaging with more outside of Bright Moon. Neither Glimmer or Bow could imagine not wanting to go out of their comfort zone, whether it’s irritating or boring. But Aurora had never been quite as easy with ventures toward the unfamiliar.

Aurora is a creature of habit and routine, so she tends to stick with people that she knows, which is why they gave Marlena and Clawdeen the day off, both to allow Aurora to expand her horizons on her own, while giving their goddaughters well-deserved rest. Adora and Catra serve, too, as Aurora’s respective godparents, for they had all promised to be the guardians of each other’s children. And it’s why they decided, when Aurora asked if she could visit her extended family on the outskirts of the Whispering Woods, they pushed her to join them on this trip to Beast Island.

Aurora’s behavior since arrival was troubling Glimmer; she’s sure it wasn’t obvious, but her daughter radiated displeasure. Aurora is normally so genteel, with impeccable manners, which were inherited from Angella, and nurtured more by Bow and his relatives. Glimmer, even as she gets older, could never get rid of her fire to engage with every little aspect of life as much as she could. There was so much to do and see and experience, and she likes to believe that Aurora’s the same, even with her personality being softer than her own: mellow, caring, even shy. She knows her daughter is a good person.

Everyone always says so.

Bow and Entrapta have gone ahead, chatting animatedly about inventions and the latest in revolutionary designs. Addressing Hordak, Glimmer murmurs, “I’m sorry about Aurora.”

Hordak looks at her, “I don’t see the need for an apology. She doesn’t have to hide her disdain.”

Glimmer pokes him lightly in the arm, teasing, “Why? Because you’re the same?”

“Exactly,” Hordak replies, giving a light chuckle.

Sighing, she holds up her face with her hand, “Still, I don’t know why she’s upset today. I know kids don’t like to be with their parents after a certain age, and want to be with their friends—I was definitely that way—but I thought maybe she would have fun, you know? Engaging with the people, the mix of culture. Beast Island is so grand now!”

“I’m glad to hear you approve of what we’ve accomplished thus far,” Hordak says.

“That lift contraption is useful, but nothing will ever overshadow the day we got indoor plumbing in the palace.”

Hordak smiles, letting himself relax in the easy conversation.

Aurora walks through the throng of individuals bustling around. She didn’t expect so… many clones. She knows this is one preferred habitation, along with the kingdom of Dryl, and they are sporadic in other parts of Etheria. But to have so many of them present is a sight to behold.

She doesn’t approach any of the shops, but watches closely. Etherians, too, are wandering from stall to stall, store to store, and she ponders why any of these citizens would want to leave their kingdoms. Do their leaders not provide enough for them that they feel the need to come to a place still in development? She has heard of Beast Island’s many, many changes from childhood to adulthood, but she doesn’t see the appeal of coming to a location that isn’t as established as the rest of Etheria. New Chelicerata is an exception, since restoring a ruined kingdom isn’t a simple task, and that was in no part thanks to the Horde destroying the land and water.

To add on top of that, Aurora notes the strange carts being driven around the area. Compact metal transportation vehicles that are hovering above the ground, or whizzing through the canopy. An invention from Entrapta, no doubt. She tends to be the mind behind the majority of the designs. Those cannot possibly be safe.

Aurora treads lightly along the ground, a little dash of levitation magic that she’s been practicing. A gaggle of children, both Etherian and mixed, run past her, and she sidesteps out of the way. None of them are paying attention to where they’re running, almost doing the same to a couple of people. She quietly shames their parents for not teaching them respect better.

“Hey! You all have to slow down!”

She recognizes the voice, stopping in her tracks.

“Aww, but we wanna run!” chime youthful voices of reckless abandon.

Her eyes shift back and forth from either side, not risking looking behind herself, wondering if she can slip into a nearby building.

“You want to run? Go that way into the woods and return after a while. Whoever’s fastest wins and gets bragging rights.”

“What if one of us gets lost?”

For a moment, she wonders if she could master the invisibility spell this very second—

“Your parents didn’t tell you, but that’s the price of being fools running around without a care: you didn’t get to learn map reading. It’s a curse, so it’s inevitable you’ll die in the jungle.”

The children laugh, “What? No way!”

As the conversation turns to protest, Aurora darts behind a wall, letting out a breath. Crisis averted.

“You know, I heard that if you run like mad back to your homes, and don’t get lost, the curse is lifted! But you can only try when the moon’s half full.”

A gasp comes from one of the children, “Oh my gosh! It’s half full tonight!”

“I guess you kids better practice for this evening!”

Aurora peers around the corner, listening to the children fall for the outlandish lies, while unable to see anyone.

She’s startled when the next sound is that of quick steps coming her direction, darting past her—

Instinctively, she teleports, narrowly avoiding collision with a child. She closes her eyes and sighs.

Why can’t she go home?

“Aurora? What are you doing here?”

She tenses.

She didn’t plan where she’d wind up.

Slowly, Aurora tilts back her head, giving her signature smile, “Eon. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Peering down, Eon quirks a single brow, “You didn’t expect to see me where my family is? Do you not know how visitation works?”

Aurora withdraws, realizing with embarrassment how her head had been resting on his chest. He stands there, nonchalant, several stacks of flour levitating above his palm. He wears Mystacoran attire, deep, noble colors of purple with the usual white or gold accents replaced with his signature black.

Standing out as much as her, if she’ll admit anything. She attends any event wearing dresses, colored soft pink with whites trimming her sleeves and the hem of her skirt. She smoothes out her outfit, looking at the fabric, “I know how visitation works. Normally, you’re locked up in your room.” She side-eyes him. “Doing nothing to better yourself.”

Eon gives a cocky grin, “At least I don’t fake being busy to drown out the monotony enveloping my life.”

Decorum be damned, Aurora’s expression turns mocking, “I happen to like monotony. Schedules keep things together.”

“Another way of declaring you’re uptight,” Eon retorts, sauntering past her.

Aurora emits a light scoff, teleporting beside him, “I am not uptight! I appear that way to the lethargic. It wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Eon replies, spinning on the ball of his foot and giving a small bow with his head. “I forgot that commoners like myself need your example to show us how we could improve ourselves.”

Aurora tosses back her hair, “That’s part of being a princess—leading by example.”

Eon rolls his eyes, continuing his path, “Of course. I wouldn’t want to contradict you.”

“But I would contradict you,” Aurora replies. “I don’t understand why you’re carrying the sacks like that.”

“Like what?”

“Magic isn’t something to do menial tasks with. Did your muscles atrophy from being bedridden?”

“I happen to enjoy using my magic for all my needs,” Eon says. “If it makes things easier, why not do it?”

Aurora shakes her head.

“So, what are you on the island for? Did your family finally admit you were found among the beetles, and that’s why you have those wings?”

“Are you insinuating I’m a pest?” she questions, annoyed, folding her arms.

“Beetles happen to serve a very good purpose,” Eon tells her. “I wouldn’t imply such malicious concepts about you.”

Aurora gives him a pointed glare, “If you must know, I happen to be tagging along with my parents. They wanted to check on how construction is going for your people.”

“Ah. That’s nice,” he says, sincere.

“For you, maybe.”

Eon resumes being distant, “Well, I thank you for showing you care. Your presence graces us.”

“I suppose this will do as I’m waiting for them to be done,” she replies, looking around with annoyance.

Eon stops in front of his destination, setting the cargo carefully on the ground. He waves at an uncle, who nods his thanks before continuing to help a customer.

“Why don’t you take it inside?” Aurora asks.

“They know where it is.”

“It’s nicer to put it inside,” Aurora insists.

Eon grunts in annoyance. Levitating them back up, he goes around the corner. He halts, turning to her, hiking a thumb in his new direction, “Are you coming?”

Blinking, Aurora glances behind him. “This job doesn’t require two people.”

Eon leaves the sacks floating, pivoting around, “If you’re going to make demands of me, the least you can do is watch me do it.”

“But—”

He gestures to the building, “Would you rather loiter outside this public establishment?”

Aurora concedes, following him to the back door. She supposes it’s better than being out in the open.

Hordak lets his mind wander as his companions take rein of the conversation.

The nightmare threw him off more than he’d care to admit. He has had this sort of dream before, however, he was shaken to his core with this one. It was the most vivid he had ever experienced, and an aspect of slumber he’d care to not go through again.

Bow and Glimmer head to a group of his brothers who are in the midst of adding beams together.

He took it upon himself to take a break in a home that was under development. It needs a little more work left, but it’s otherwise complete and ready for furnishing. No one will bother him here.

Entrapta looks into the house, noticing his posture. He’s staring out a window that overlooks the trees, the drop going straight down, hands behind his back. His thinking position. She swings over to where he stands, closing the door behind her, “Are you still holding up?”

Hordak’s brow twitches. He doesn’t tell her that it’s a poor choice of words, because he knows he’s a little more sensitive to this matter than usual.

But Entrapta touches his shoulder, “Oh, I’m sorry! I meant to ask if you’re fine.”

“That is not something you need to concern yourself with. They’re mere words.”

“Words that are insensitive,” Entrapta replies. He doesn’t give a reply. She sits on her hair, gazing right at him. Unmoving.

Hordak’s eyes flick over to her for a second. He continues to stare straight ahead. “Entrapta, you needn’t apologize or feel responsible.”

“I believe you when you say that,” Entrapta says, not removing her eyes from his features. Suddenly, she gives a bashful smile, “I just care about you.”

Heart twinging, Hordak stiffens. He knows that her concern is sincere, and he appreciates it. He raises a hand to her cheek, brushing it, “I know.”

Entrapta flushes, his gaze intense. She can’t help but look down then, soft giggles leaving her lips. His finger traces the shell of her ear, and a shudder snakes along her spine. Body growing warm from the attention. He always knew how to make her feel special. After Prime’s defeat, Hordak had layers of emotion to sift through. He had been angry for many years, and she knows there’s parts of that residual rage underneath the calm. But one aspect of his nature that blossomed was a sensitivity that left her speechless. Hordak doesn’t believe it, but he can be very romantic by simply being honest with her.

“Hordak,” Entrapta whispers, touching his hand.

He tilts his head, “Yes?”

“You know I love you,” she says.

“Yes, I do,” Hordak replies, surprised. “And I love you too.”

Entrapta gives a breathy laugh, turning her face into his palm, hiding. She peers up at him with one eye, “Really?”

“More than you could comprehend,” Hordak tells the truth.

“Aww!” she coos, pressing his hand into her cheek, slightly muffled as she buries her face into his palm again.

A light blush tints his face, and he gives a soft laugh, “Entrapta, what’s this about? Are you upset that you cannot help me with my problem?”

“A little,” Entrapta holds his hand in hers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “I don’t know what to do sometimes, and I don’t know if me being around helps at all.”

“You’re a great help,” he assures her, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Don’t doubt your affect on me.”

Entrapta grins, “I know some of the ways I affect you, silly!”

Hordak steps closer, smile widening along his lips, teeth flashing. His voice lowers, “Do you?”

“I like to think so,” Entrapta teases, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers moving into his hair.

Her lips touch his, and he pulls her close. Her body curves against his, and even after decades of being near her, he’s always amazed at how she feels. Hand angled behind her head, his other one shifts down her back, sliding down her thigh.

Entrapta moans into his mouth, and she realizes that she’s been wanting to do this all day. His breathing grows ragged, moans interspersed with her name, sounds that she never gets tired of, because he only makes them with her.

Hordak pushes her against the wall, and he feels her hair slacken through her frame. Her legs wrap around his waist, allowing herself to be held up by his hands. Entrapta gives a soft groan, pulling him close. Her mouth caresses his neck, causing his body to shiver. Her hands glide down his back, grazing over exposed skin.

His hand snakes up her frame, and angles between her legs. Against the fabric, he begins to rub her clit, and Entrapta gasps in welcome surprise. Grinding against his fingers, she gives a small bite to his ear lobe, hot breath tickling his skin.

Hordak presses harder with his fingers, and he knows she’s growing damp. He captures her mouth with his, swallowing a moan she emits, flushed and excited. She grins against his chin, giving a small chuckle.

Encouraged, Hordak stops petting her. He looks at her, “Entrapta, remove your clothes.”

“Ooooh!” Entrapta does as he says, discarding everything but her shirt.

With ease, he lifts her back up, pushing her securely upon the wall and placing her legs over his shoulders. He has no hesitation as he leans in, breathing in, and glides his tongue up slick folds, rubbing over the clit with the end of his tongue.

Entrapta gasps, closing her eyes in pleasure. His tongue moves slowly, taking his time. It moves through the sides, around, teasing the clit, but never going in. Entrapta’s hands caress his hair, brushing through dark blue locks. His moans vibrate into her skin, mouth burning hot on burning flesh.

Hordak’s tongue suddenly darts in, and Entrapta’s back arches, mouth parting open. Groaning deep in her throat, Entrapta’s fingers grip his hair harder. Hordak pushes her legs further aside, nails digging into tender skin. He pulls away, giving her a brief glance, as his teeth graze along the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“Hordak…” Entrapta whispers.

“Hmm?” he hums, mouth covering her clit, sucking hard.

Her moan escapes in a staccato, trembling. Biting her lower lip, Entrapta forgets what she’s supposed to ask. Lost in the sensation of his mouth on her clit, tongue dragging along swollen lips. His fingers squeeze the sensitive flesh of her backside, his ears twitching when she says his name. Soon, she’s soaked, unable to think or speak, overcome by physical touch. His arms, once the most obvious area of his defect, don’t waver from the weight, keeping her steady without qualm.

She would love him no matter his appearance, but she’s happy that he has the body he lost before. It brought him so much pain and agony, leaving him enraged and bitter. Entrapta would watch him suffer every day in the Fright Zone, even with her modifications. He felt inadequate, pathetic and alone. She would never think of him this way—he was the most brilliant mind and kindest heart she’d ever met, valuing her for who she was. Loving her despite her own imperfections. She never gave a thought to her physical appearance. What she always worried about was how her mind, her personality, her feelings would be perceived.

He accepted all of it.

And she wants to help him overcome whatever fears remain in him. That the imperfections of his body wouldn’t ever be the only thing of him she’d accept—it would be the doubts, the worries, the anger. He was her friend and husband. He, and he alone, would always be enough.

The heat in her stomach spreads throughout her body. Growing feverish, sweat shining on her skin, her toes curl into his back. Hordak’s ministrations are relentless, breaths muffled as his tongue moves back in, deeper than before, making circular motions within her body.

Shaking with incredible force, it bowls Entrapta forward, clamping her hand over her mouth. Eyes shut closed, brows knitting together, she trembles from the orgasm rocking through her every nerve and muscle. Slowly, her eyelids open, finding him staring up at her.

“Wow…”

Hordak smiles, pleased at such a reaction.

As he wipes up his chin, Entrapta brushes aside his hair, tugging strands over his temple. “Oh... I remembered what I was going to ask…”

“Yes?”

“I was going… to ask… if you think anyone will notice us gone…”

“Perhaps. But I don’t believe there’s a problem, so long as we begin going back now.”

Entrapta gives a gentle pat to his shoulders, and he sets her down. Beginning to dress, she grins, “I think this house is ruined.”

“Nonsense,” Hordak returns, waving a hand. “We need only open a window.”

Cackling wildly, Entrapta leaps up into his arms, nuzzling his neck, “You’re so bad!”

Hordak kisses her cheek, “I try.”

“I can be bad too,” Entrapta says, leering down at his groin.

“I don’t think we have the time,” Hordak replies, arm wrapping around her waist. “As favorable as that outcome would be.”

“Awww… You don’t want to make an attempt?”

“I believe, unfortunately, we have been gone long enough to arouse suspicion.”

“That’s an understatement,” Entrapta replies, wiggling her eyebrows, hand stroking over his clothes. “We definitely can’t hide that.”

A boyish grin and light blush changes his normally stoic demeanor. The expression staggers her mind to a halt, mystifying her on the rare moments it occurs. He’s so pretty...

“Entrapta?” he asks, smile still in place.

Finally recalling what needs to be done, Entrapta moves toward the door, grinning, “I’ll go on ahead, okay? You take your time!”

He nods, and she blows him a kiss that he, on reflex, pretends to catch.

Squealing at his playful attitude, Entrapta bounces out the door.

Hordak hears her voice grow distant, and he notes the faint replies from their friends. Hordak looks back out the window, catching his reflection in the glass. He looks down at his arm, touching it where he can remember missing bone and sinew. He takes in a breath, feeling the air move through his nose, into his chest. The power in his body undeniable.

It’s an odd feeling. Being afraid of nothing.

Aurora follows Eon throughout the market. He, apparently, was needed today. His magic lent significant help to his people, restoring broken objects, fixing machinery, and taking deliveries to several places. She won’t admit it, but it was a welcome relief from simply milling about by herself. Granted, these are tasks servants would be doing, but it made her feel normal, like she was accomplishing objectives at Bright Moon.

Eon looks down at her, “Don’t you have other places to be?”

“If I did, I would’ve left,” Aurora replies.

“Are you bored?”

“No, not at all,” she shakes her head. A little surprised she means it, too.

Eon takes her word for it. He hadn’t expected her to trail after him the entire time, and he would catch her standing by, occasionally offering unwanted critique, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Early on, he certainly did. But the day has been long and he’s hoping to rest soon. She always does what she wants.

“Are you almost done?” Aurora asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “This is my last spot.”

Aurora looks at the sparse appearance, not even a sign put outside. Eon opens the door, singing its soft chime, and Aurora steps in after him. She’s struck to find rows of jewelry arranged along the four walls, painted navy blue, with cases planted into the middle of the floor. Though empty, they are meant for future displays.

Eon heads over to the case closest to the back door, tapping a bell resting on top.

Aurora joins him, “Is anyone present?”

“Should be,” Eon replies, turning around to face the front. He puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s not an issue if no one is—I can come back later.”

Aurora peers at the glass case, looking at dazzling necklaces, bracelets and rings aligned on vermilion velvet stands. She didn’t expect a store of this magnitude on Beast Island. The quality of the items are beautiful, with delicate designs.

Eon watches her from the corner of his eye. Her expression is intrigued, perusing the case with calm interest. He closes his eyes, waiting for the merchant to arrive. He listens to the faint tread of Aurora’s feet on the ground, the soft tap of her fingers on the surface of glass. He lets his mind wander in peace, glad to have a moment to himself.

Aurora eventually returns to his side, “Are you sure they’re here?”

“Yes,” he answers, not opening his eyes. “If you prefer, you can go find your parents.”

Aurora turns around, skirt slightly shifting about her feet. She stares up at Eon, debating whether to take him up on the suggestion or not. Her parents might be done, but if they’re not, she wouldn’t be able to leave again as smoothly as before. Staring at each side of the room, she says, “This is rude.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This wouldn’t happen in Bright Moon.”

Eon gives an exasperated sigh, “No, of course not. Nothing bad ever happens in Bright Moon.”

She ignores it or doesn’t hear. Aurora boasts, crossing her arms, “Right! Glad you see it my way.”

“Your Highness,” Eon scoffs, turning to face her. “If everyone could see things your way, we’d have a greater need for service animals.”

She blinks, “Why is that?”

“Everyone would be blind,” Eon answers.

Aurora says, tone clipped, “Oh, what would you know?”

“A lot more than you,” Eon replies, feeling vigor return.

“I doubt you possibly could!” Aurora’s head tilts at an arrogant angle. “The only thing you’ve proven today is that you make an excellent mule.”

Feigning injury, Eon clutches his chest, “Ah! You hurt me. But I could’ve sworn that you were fine with loyal, hard-working creatures. Unless that only matters when it’s useful to you.”

Aurora crosses her arms, huffing quietly.

Eon has known Aurora his entire life. Aurora has proven time and again that she has an elitism that tends to push her away from most people. Her parents are open-minded, cheerful individuals, and together they tend to liven any situation. Aurora can be charming, but she lacks sincerity. While not brash, her keeping an absurd distance from the folks around them during his errands proved that she was around him because he was the one thing she knew, rather than any intention toward actual civility.

Aurora inspects her shoulder, finding a loose thread. She points at it, and it dissolves in the air.

“I thought magic wasn’t a toy,” he says, taunting.

“This isn’t the same,” she snaps.

Before Eon can retort, the door opens behind them. The two turn around and find a woman standing there. Full-figured, with brown hair, hazel eyes and pale skin, the merchant is dressed in Bright Moon garb. Silver arm bands go up to mid-forearm, and she removes a light blue cape to hang on a coat rack.

“Eon, hello! I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My meeting ran late.”

“No worries. I thought as much,” Eon replies.

The woman stares at Aurora for a moment, stunned, then smiles, “Your Highness! Welcome to my shop.”

Returning the warm greeting, Aurora nods at her, “Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Minette, Your Highness. If I may ask, what are you doing on Beast Island?”

“Royal duties,” Aurora gives a dainty laugh. “It’s been lovely!”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Minette says, walking over to a desk.

Eon bends down, giving Aurora a deadpan stare.

Aurora shoos him back, returning it with a glare.

“So!” Minette begins, causing the two to stand upright before she can notice. “Eon, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“What is it?”

With an excited skip in her step, Minette returns to the chair behind the larger collection of jewelry, “I needed a model for some of my jewelry, and using you would be really helpful!”

“Really? That’s it?” he asks, a bit surprised. “I don’t need to patch a hole in your roof or magic up boxes?”

“Sorry! I understand if you’d prefer to do those things instead,” Minette jokes.

Eon takes his seat, a little relieved that this is the easiest job he’s had today. Aurora sits in a chair nearby, crossing her right ankle under her left, hands in her lap.

“Your Highness, you can scoot closer,” suggests Minette.

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance.

“No, thank you, I’m comfortable where I am,” Aurora says.

“Nonsense! You can try anything on too!”

Aurora is about to decline when Eon rises to his feet and stands behind his seat. He indicates to it with a quick motion of his head, and Aurora elects to accept it. He pushes the chair under her, before levitating the one she’d been in next to it.

Minette smiles, bringing out her first batch, “How is Nyxia?”

“She’s doing well,” he informs her. “She’s likely in a meeting herself.”

“Your mother isn’t usually doing business with other people, correct?”

Eon peruses the jewelry that she places out on the table. Picking up a silver-banded ring, a crimson gem laid in its intricate center, he says, “I suppose she isn’t. But she will occasionally meet up with someone. I think she had to discuss matters with the council on Mystacore.”

“No doubt causing a stir of some sort,” Aurora adds, slipping a white bracelet onto a delicate wrist.

Eon glances at her, “You would know how to do that, wouldn’t you?”

Aurora gives a demure grin, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Playing coy only works on the dim, Aurora," he tells her with a smirk. "But I don’t blame you for being outside of familiar company that you think it’d work on me.”

“Ha ha.”

Minette watches with curious fascination, beaming at them, “You two must be good friends.”

Aurora and Eon turn to her at the statement.

“Am I wrong?” Minette asks, unsure now.

Aurora gives an awkward smile, a little odd on her lips, “Oh, it’s not that! We’ve known one another for years.”

“For how long, if I may ask?”

“A long, long time,” Eon replies, trying on a bracelet as well, shining black. “My mother knows her aunt.”

“Ohh, I see! I wasn’t aware that you knew the royal family, Eon.”

“Not many do,” he answers.

“How do you know Eon?” Aurora returns the question to the other woman.

“He lived near me at Bright Moon,” Minette explains. “I was a resident of the complexes there.”

“Really?” Aurora asks, shocked. “Why did you move here?”

“I always liked to engage in the unusual,” Minette tells her. A happy smile grows on her face, “It was delightful having Eon move in next door. I had become acquainted with his family when they would visit, and they informed me that my designs might strike a chord with a different crowd too, so I decided to set up shop outside of Bright Moon. I’m going to live here permanently, but I’ll be keeping my place over there to be in touch with my family.”

“Oh, I see…”

Minette notes the slight change in Aurora’s disposition. She sets down a narrow container on the table, “Do not misunderstand, Your Highness! Eon and I had been neighbors for a good few years, and he talked to me about the changes occurring on Beast Island. It seemed like a good opportunity to try my business out here too and build a second location. I grew up in Bright Moon, of course, but a change of pace now and again doesn’t hurt, right? I love my home, but knowing that Beast Island had potential was exciting!”

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance, “Surely, you understand what she means.”

Aurora goes quiet, not wanting to look at him. The two enter a chit chat that doesn’t involve her, to which she finds relief. She doesn’t fully… understand Minette’s motivations. He, unfortunately, is correct. An overachiever herself, Aurora can comprehend pushing toward her goals. But her ties to her home are so valuable, that she can’t help but feel a little slighted that a subject of hers decided that it was better to live here, in an underdeveloped metropolis. She can’t disconnect that success is tied to her kingdom and all its facets. It figures that Eon would be capable of convincing someone that, an idea they’d never considered before, might be what they want. He was always good at that.

It has been… ages since they’ve been in each other’s presence. They don’t interact often, but when they do it can be rather... tense. Tense is how she describes her relationship with Eon. His personality is both sardonic and frigid, which can lead to frustrating discussions. He has been more than pleasant thus far—even with his tendency to argue with her. She attempts to be cordial when she can, but she finds his quips to cut to the quick bothersome.

Then he does things like hold out chairs for her, or open doors and allow her to enter first, and she’s a little confused how someone can hold her with contempt and yet high enough esteem to do favors.

Maddening is also how it can be expressed being around Eon.

Aurora’s curiosity rises when Minette pulls out another box, dark and smooth, with a simple crescent moon latch on the front.

“These are my latest earrings!” Minette says, opening it. An array of different sets are revealed, but Aurora’s eyes hone in on a simple pair: pink tear-drop shaped earrings, not looking like anything special, but they have a soft sheen to their color that’s appealing.

“Your Highness, you seem taken with these,” Minette pulls them out. “Would you care to try them on?”

“Oh! Um, yes, thank you,” Aurora holds them in her hands, delicately pinning each one through her earlobes. Minette places a mirror in front of her, and Aurora discovers that she not only finds them pleasing, but she’s enchanted by it. They dangle as she moves her head, and she smiles. Genuine and delighted. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you!” Minette turns to Eon. “And what about you?”

Eon stares at Aurora, and he pulls himself out of his reverie before Aurora can turn to face him. He looks down at the velvety interior, checking the selection. He does find his eyes trained on a similar pair, but in lovely lavender rather than the rosy pink she chose, their diameter wider a bit at the tip before becoming more rounded at the bottom by comparison as well. He picks it up, staring at it for a moment.

“Try them on, try them on!” encourages Minette.

Eon does as she says, and he checks the mirror too. He gives a light chuckle, the side of his mouth tilting up, “You do know how to win a man over.”

Minette claps her hands excitedly, “Good! Do you two like them enough to get them?”

Aurora nods, beaming, “Yes, absolutely!”

“Yes, I definitely want them,” Eon begins. He reaches for his pocket, “How much is this, Minette?”

“Eon, you silly boy,” the older woman giggles. “Consider them a gift from me to the both of you, hm?”

Aurora waves a hand, “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but you should be paid for your work!”

Eon nods in agreement, taken aback, “It doesn’t feel right to have them handed over. I can pay for Aurora’s set as well.”

Aurora, a little flattered despite herself, coos, “Aww, really?”

“Yes, really,” he answers.

Minette wags a finger, “Ah-ah-ah! I won’t hear of it. It really is my way of saying thanks to Eon for helping out today and times past; and Your Highness, I’d be honored if you wore them!”

Grinning, Eon shrugs, reclining in his seat, “Well, who am I to turn down a free present?”

“Thank you very much, Minette,” Aurora says. She looks at the mirror again, enjoying herself for the first time today.

Glimmer stands next to Entrapta, looking over a couple of blueprints that the engineer created with a team of clones. The day has passed with little event, and Glimmer was glad about that. She addresses Entrapta, “How is Odessa, by the way? Will she be home soon?”

Entrapta nods, widening her smile, “Yes! She will be home in a month.”

“Ooh, that’s exciting!” Glimmer says. “I bet you’ve missed her.”

“I knooooow!” Entrapta flips in place through the air. “I told her if she found anything interesting to bring it back!”

“Where did she go again?”

“She went to visit our family in Inicos. It’s a long journey, but the return trip is much shorter.”

Glimmer nods, then glances at Hordak. She leans in, whispering, “Do you think Hordak is excited?”

Entrapta picks up the cue, and whispers back, “Yes! Hordak doesn’t show it, but he misses our baby too.”

“That’s so cute!” Glimmer says.

“I know!”

From where he stands, Hordak’s ears twitch a little, looking over his shoulder at the women. They simply wave at him, and he resumes conversation with Bow.

Glimmer turns her attention toward the darkening sky. It’ll be about time to head back to the castle. She’s been enjoying herself since she’s arrived. Even with all the experience she has now, she cannot help but feel unsettled when she’s in the palace for too long, and it has been an overdue time in regards to going out. Beast Island may not be what individuals think of for relaxation and enjoyment, but without all the technology trying to kill you, it’s fun. Bow can attest to that.

The sound of the elevator is familiar by now that none of them turn to it. But a moment later, Glimmer hears, “Hi, Mama!”

She looks over Entrapta’s shoulder, and she rises to greet her daughter, “Aurora! Hi, honey. Did you have a good time?”

The princess gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders, “I suppose.”

“Are those earrings?” Glimmer asks, pointing to her ears. “You didn’t have them on before.”

Aurora touches one, “Oh, yes! Do you like them?”

“I adore them! They’re such a compliment to your face—” begins Glimmer, when her eyes slide over to the left. She lets out a loud gasp, “Eon!”

Eon continues his strides, giving a salute with his hand, “Hello.”

Glimmer, despite being dwarfed by the younger man, teleports over the remaining four feet and crushes him to her. “Oh my gosh, how’ve you been?”

“Not broken,” he remarks.

“Oh, I know you’re fine!” Glimmer laughs, releasing him. She holds his wrists in her hands, appraising him. “By the moon, you’ve gotten tall.”

Eon brushes his hair from his face, grinning down at her, “Thank you, it’s genetics.”

Entrapta bounces over, giving him an affectionate pat on the back, “And your strict diet!”

“That too,” he agrees. “I’d kill to have a slice of cake.”

“Were you with Aurora just now?” Bow asks, walking over to them with Hordak.

“She accompanied me all day,” Eon informs the couples. “She performed good samaritan duties.”

Glimmer can’t help her astonishment. She looks at Aurora, “Really?”

“He happened to be walking by, that’s all,” Aurora explains. “He worked, I watched.”

Bow holds his daughter by the shoulder, pulling her to him, giving her a happy shake, “You learned a thing or two though, didn’t you?”

“Sure, Papa.”

Eon leans down to Glimmer, “You know, she actually got dirt on her.”

“For once, huh?” Glimmer jests back.

Flushing, Aurora crosses her arms, “Mama, please…”

Hordak turns to Bow, “Will you three be returning to Bright Moon now?”

Bow nods, “Since Aurora is here, and it’s getting late, we likely should.”

Glimmer turns to the clone family, “Would any of you be interested in coming back and having dinner? The cooks don’t mind that!”

Entrapta shakes her head, “As much as I’d like to ask for tiny food from your chefs, Hordak and I have a previous engagement to attend to, so we’ll have to say no!”

Hordak nods at them, “Perhaps another time.”

“Got it!” Glimmer says, looking up at Eon. “What about you? You can have that slice of cake with us!”

“I got something to finish up here, but thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Eon, please, it’s Glimmer!”

“Sorry, Glimmer.”

Bow adds, “You should come by the next time you’re around!”

“Thank you,” Eon says, glancing at Aurora. “I’ll consider it some time.”

After a few more pleasantries, Eon bids farewell first. Hordak and Entrapta accompany the family to the portal about halfway before they veer off to their own place.

Glimmer stares up at her husband, “This was a great outing, wasn’t it?”

Bow stretches his arms toward the sky, “You bet! It’s good to get out of the stuffy meetings now and then.”

Aurora purses her lips, “I think we could’ve gone home sooner.”

Glimmer looks at her daughter, “Didn’t you have fun with Eon?”

“I had as much fun as one could while watching someone do menial labor,” Aurora replies.

“It’s good to get out regardless,” Bow says.

“I did always like that boy,” Glimmer tells them.

Aurora sighs, not understanding how he can win her parents over. He can be charming, to be sure, and he surprised her today by how useful he was to others. Even thoughtful. But he doesn’t have anything else going for him. She finds it to be a lucky thing that he enjoys being distant from her too.

Today was a fluke.

After all, he is a clone’s son.

Entrapta holds Hordak to her chest, brushing his hair as he falls asleep, “Did you have fun earlier today?”

“In the house or with our friends?”

“Both!”

Hordak smiles at her. His fingers slide up to touch her face, “I did enjoy myself.”

Entrapta leans forward, kissing the bridge of his nose. She puts their foreheads together, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

“You can return the favor to me later,” Hordak says. “I’m comfortable.”

Entrapta continues petting his scalp, finding that she is also in a cozy position, and maybe they will just have more fun tomorrow. She yawns, voice getting drowsy, “Are you happy Odessa is coming soon?”

“Yes, I am,” he replies. “There’s much to discuss with her.”

“There is…”

Hordak’s eyes drift to his wife’s collarbone. Breathing in the scent of her skin, Hordak pulls her closer. His thoughts begin to pick up in the quiet of the room. Churning. Once his mind finds something to think about, he can have as much a difficult time letting it be as Entrapta could. And their daughter was, for better or worse, the same.

He asks, with unusual hesitation, “Is Odessa keeping something from me? She has a strong wanderlust, and she enjoys visiting family but... she doesn’t feel like herself. When she left, it seemed as if she was unsure of how to approach me. That she didn’t want to inform me of any event she experienced. Am I imagining it?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Entrapta?”

The question receives light snores as a response.

Sighing, Hordak kisses the column of her throat before settling into her chest, unable to stop thinking of his dream from earlier. The sense of unease he has balled in his chest.

He is curious what this odyssey would entail for his daughter and her friends.

And he is worried what the outcome may be.

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #odessa #fanfic: The Ripple Effect #shera #spop

28 notes · View notes

moved-danganronpamess · 4 years ago

Note

I saw requests are open, so if it’s not to much to ask could I possibly request a gender neutral reader comforting sad ishimaru, gundham, sonia, and byakuya (dr1) in the game? I wish to cuddle and hug them—(also I LOVE YALLS WRITIN I WENT ON A SPREE READING THROUGH THE MASTERLIST ITS ALL V GOOD::33 ::DDDD)

Aww man! My first request, heehee!

I'm sure all the other mods appreciate your kudos! I hope it’s alright that I answered your ask despite being new, I just couldn’t resist! I wanna hug and cuddle these cuties too, they deserve it for all they’ve been through. I only wrote Ishimaru and Byakuya for now, I hope that’s alright! I’ll be sure to post Sonia and Gundham another time!

I hope you enjoy it, my buttercup baby! <3

- ��💖Mod Rantaro💖🌺

gn!S/O comforting a sad Ishimaru and Byakuya during the killing game!

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

You and Taka were very close. From the start of this sick, horrible killing game you were forced to play, you two naturally gravitated towards eachother. You formed an extremely tight bond in a very short amount of time.

A bond tight enough to spend almost all of your free time together, sometimes in each other’s dorm rooms or around the school.

Y’all vibed hardcore-

But, with everything going on, Taka started to feel... A bit down.

The school... Wasn’t exactly a school. There were no teachers, no classes no schoolwork or homework. To most students, that would be heaven (if it weren’t for the fact everyone was trapped inside the school for the rest of their time), but for the Ultimate Moral Compass... It was almost torture.

Taka took a lot of pride in his hard work. The countless flawless grades and extra credit (that he didn’t even need, but got anyway), constant praise from his teachers and family for nothing but said work, it warped his sense of self-worth to the point that, if he wasn’t working or being successful, he didn’t matter.

And you took notice of that. You took notice of how he seemed to get more down with each passing day where he couldn’t study or show off his current knowledge.

And Taka started to get self-loathing thoughts about the whole situation. How he was useless, unworthy, or just a bother if he couldn’t work.

He knew this was unhealthy, but he kept it to himself for quite some time, until he couldn’t take having these thoughts anymore. He needed someone to talk to, and he knew you could help.

It was somewhere in the afternoon, around 6-7 PM, you couldn’t bother to look at the exact time.

You heard a somewhat frantic knock at the door, and went to crack it open. Peeping through the opening, you noticed Taka’s tearful expression.

You threw open the door, letting your friend inside, “Taka, what’s wrong?! Did something happen?!”, you panicked, closing the door after him.

Taka quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, already feeling bad for making you worry over nothing.

“N-no, no! Nothing happened!”, he reassured you, and you let out a relieved sigh. But... What was wrong, then?

“Are you ok, Ishi?”, you grabbed your friend’s hand, leading him to your bed. You both sat down, as you laced your fingers with his, not planning to let go, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Taka ignored his quick heartbeat, as he told you about how he felt. His voice shook, and his vision was blurred with tears as he rambled about how useless he felt. If he couldn’t study, take tests or answer teachers’ questions, what was he even good for?

You pulled him into a hug, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You debunked every bad word he said about himself, telling him how his talent and academic achievements didn’t define him as a person. He was a wonderful, caring friend who you were incredibly lucky to have, not some studying machine you expected to be the best at everything.

You knew how much he valued knowledge, so you suggested starting some new hobbies together like... Art, or chess, or sewing... Anything you could think of at the moment that would get you two to learn and expand your horizons.

Your touch and reassuring words comforted him... You were so considerate with your words and found a way to get him out of that low, low state so easily. You even wanted to try those hobbies with him! He never really felt so cared for. Your hand ran through his hair so delicately, he felt like he could melt. He never wanted to let go...

He was so lucky to have you.

Byakuya Togami :

Byakuya was in the school library, as per usual. Reading a book about who-knows-what and trying to distract himself from the dark fog slowly forming in his head.

He was thinking about everything that was taken away from him. From his success and wealth, to his family’s Corporation, everything that he fought for and righteously owned... Gone. Probably forever.

It messed with him, it really did. He felt like all he went through to get to the top was worthless. That his years of fighting were wasted on nothing.

He tried to push these feelings away. Wallowing over the fact that he was trapped in Hope’s Peak until his damnation wouldn’t help his situation. He even tried to deny his sadness, and practically ran from his emotions, opting to distract himself instead.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you call out his name. He loudly slammed his book shut, not even bothering to mark where he stopped at, then turned to your direction, coldly asking: “What do you want?”

Now, your relationship with Togami was strange. At least, from your perspective. He was self-centered, cold and difficult to talk to, but that’s part of the reason why he was so intriguing to you. You always tried to talk to him, even if he responded rudely to you every time. You noticed his very slight shift in nature when he interacted with you. He was still cold, yes, but it was almost toned down.

There was something about you that he found intriguing too. You always had something to say to him, something to add, a comeback to an insult he may’ve thrown at you once or twice. He found you amusing, and certainly didn’t want to push you away.

You walked into the library, closing the door behind you, “I’m just here to check on you. You don’t have to be so sour about it.”

“I’m fine. Now leave, you’re distracting me.”, Byakuya tried to go back to his reading, planning to ignore you, but you proved that to be difficult by coming up to the desk, and sitting down on it.

Before Togami could tell you to move, you asked: “You doin’ ok? You seem sad.”

That... Took him aback. It was clear he didn’t expect your question.

He didn’t even know how to reply. Part of him wanted to talk to you, and the other just wanted to get you away from him.

You hummed at his silence, then said, leaning over to rest your elbows on you knees, chin propped in your hands, “I can tell you how I’m feeling, if that would make you wanna talk about it.”

Byakuya sighed, “Fine, because I know you’ll keep bothering me about it if I don’t listen to you.”

You made him promise to talk about his own feelings btw it was an incredibly long, annoying and difficult process and he actually tried to leave the room several times but yOU CONVINCED HIM AND YOU DID IT GOOD JOB

Byakuya's superiority complex really said "no❤️"

And so, you rambled for a while. About how you felt, what you missed, what you wanted to do, and he listened. He may've looked somewhat disinterested, but it was far from that. He wanted to hear you, he was just too proud to fully admit it.

But when it was his turn to talk, he hesitated. He hesitated a lot, actually, and you had to convince him to speak all over again.

And he did! Of course, adding a lot of "I suppose"s and "maybe"s/"possibly"s to his sentences to distance himself from his emotions. He didn't tell you everything, but he did say a majority of his feelings. And... He really felt better.

Subconsciously, you went to pat the top of his head, telling him you're proud that he opened up to you.

Then you realized what you did.

"Oh, sorry! I probably shouldn't-"

As you went to pull your hand away, Togami quickly snatched your wrist, and put your hand back on his head, saying: "This- stays between us, understand?"

You smiled, seeing his rose-tinted cheeks, as your ran your hand through his hair absentmindedly.

As he went back to his reading, you two sat together in a comfortable silence, and a ghost of a grin appeared on his face.

... He could get used to this.

Make sure to drink some water, take any meds you may need to, and maybe eat some fruit or candy! Lotsa love from me, my buttercup baby! <3

#mod rantaro petals #mod rantaro #story petals #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #ishimaru kiyotaka imagines #byakuya togami imagines #byakuya togami x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

Text

Crossfire | KTH

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 6.4k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, injury, dangerous driving, mention of drugs (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: I am actually super happy with this chapter, I hope you guys feel the same! Y/N and Tae go on a lil adventure... I also had to make up a name for a cartoon show for this lmao,, and as always, thanks for the love!!

Something was tugging you from sleep.

Softly, though, so you didn’t notice until it was already too late, and your senses were with you all at once. In one last protest against the waking world, you didn’t open your eyes, stubbornly lying there instead, your back to the side of the bed Taehyung used. Then the same something that had woken you up started again.

He was singing.

That was all it took, and your eyes were open, body stiffening. Taehyung, however, noticed nothing. His song continued, one you had never heard before, and his voice was beautifully soft and smooth, expressive even at such a low volume. Clearly he had been hoping not to wake you up.

Swallowing, you forced your eyes to fall closed again. After the initial shock, you soon found it easy to relax to his calming melody, the duvet and pillow enveloping you in combination with his voice. And despite the warmth in your little bubble under the covers, goosebumps rose along your arms.

You really couldn’t get your head round Taehyung.

Though you had seen him being silly, all that time at college you had spent at a distance from him, he had seemed cold, intimidating. It had been a shock to you when he had been so amicable those months ago, and that soon became the Taehyung you knew, but he was still a mystery… His singing had really thrown you for a loop, another puzzle piece thrown in amongst the jumble you were already trying to make sense of when it came to this boy.

All day, you couldn’t get his song out of your head. Specifically, his voice.

His voice. Singing his song.

Him, him, him.

Last night he had mentioned that the books he had brought you were some of his favourites. Another surprise: who would have known that Kim Taehyung, the king of bad reputation, had a hidden love of fashion, an inner art connoisseur?

Now the books meant something different.

You read them even quicker after that, drinking in every word as if there were a drought.

Perhaps there was.

When you finished the last one in the stack, you were instantly back to the real world within four walls. It was only morning as well, judging by the light. Brilliant. One whole day and nothing to do.

“Y/N!”

Obnoxious footfalls. Taehyung was taking the stairs two at a time.

The bedroom door swung open to a slightly breathless Taehyung, leaning his weight against the door handle he had yet to let go of.

“Sorry it’s so late. You okay?”

You were lying across the bed’s width, head falling over the end nearest him, hair brushing the floor.

“Yep. Do you want me to cook?”

He only frowned down at you for a second longer before continuing as if one member of the conversation wasn’t upside down.

“Ah, no. I didn’t get any food.”

“But we basically ran out yesterday,” you frowned.

“I know,” he said, “but today we are going to the food.”

Now that made you sit up.

“What?”

“Yep,” a proud smile made its way onto his face and he straightened up, “we’re going out.”

When your only response was a wide-eyed stare, he took it as his cue to elaborate.

“I know you’ve been going a little crazy inside, so I thought we could go for an adventure. Hobi’s racing tonight and he says we can join him.”

“Hoseok?” you questioned.

“Yeah. Sound good?”

It did. You knew it shouldn’t. You weren’t naïve – you knew what he meant by racing. Idiots breaking every road law possible for clout, or maybe money. It was precisely what you had always stayed away from.

But it sounded so good.

“Sounds perfect,” you grinned.

First, Taehyung helped you find the pair of his jeans you were most likely to fit into; since you had been at his, you had mainly worn sweats for comfort’s sake, but this occasion called for a change. Wearing a hoodie was non-negotiable though, to hide your face.

After rolling up the hem of his black jeans, you slung on the most nondescript hoodie he had. Shoes, however, were more of an issue, so Taehyung vowed to buy you some once you were out. Also wearing black, Taehyung looked much more stylish than you in cargo pants, a bomber jacket and a bandana.

“Did you take your painkiller?” was the last thing on the list before finally leaving, via the side door.

Night had descended completely by now, putting you more at ease. You walked far away from streetlights when you could, but as you drew closer to the city centre, that was the last thing on your mind.

Being outside was just what you needed. You breathed in the cold air and drizzle on your face, eyes following each car that whirred past and people’s boots splashing in puddles of melted neon. And what made it all the more thrilling was the knowledge that you were taking a risk.

So far, you had been clumsily walking around in Tae’s sliders, until suddenly a man came barging past you on the sidewalk. In your dash to dodge him, you tripped over the too-big shoes, barrelling straight into Taehyung’s stomach where his arms steadied you.

You barely had a chance to straighten before Tae had turned around, bent down and grabbed the backs of your knees, forcing you to fling your arms around his neck, shrieking as he hoisted you onto his back. Grinning while you complained into the back of his neck, he carried on, but soon he was dragging you into a store that was still open – though not for long – and you grabbed the cheapest sneakers going.

With that problem solved, food was the next priority. In the end, you chose a street vendor and headed to your rendezvous with steaming bags in hand.

Not far from the centre, once you wound through the smallest streets enclosed by the tallest buildings, you emerged onto a car park. It wasn’t as secluded as you had expected for underground racing, still lit up in colours by the signs of shops that backed onto it, the entrance opening onto a wide road.

Cars were lined up, one pulling up at the same time as you and Taehyung. None were flashy sports cars: instead the line-up came in various states of repair, altered by their owners with darkened windows, underglow, stickers, spoilers, you name it.

“Hoseok!”

Beside you, Taehyung shouted across the car park, waving an arm above his head. Then his hand wrapped around your wrist and he lead you through the thin crowd over to the older bangtan boy, who pulled his friend in and clapped him on the back.

Hoseok joined the two of you as you sat on the wall to eat, watching as the first few people showed off their wheel spins and donuts, revving engines mixing with whoops and yells from the spectators. Most were dressed in black like you. A handful of people came up to chat with the boys, with ‘haven’t seen you in a while’-s to Taehyung and offers of bets for Hoseok. Keeping your head well down, you just enjoyed your food, silently taking in the new environment.

The night had cleared up, the asphalt still shining from the earlier drizzle, but the puddles now lay still as glass.

Plenty of people had bottles in their hands, sitting around on the perimeter walls. In the opposite corner, those with hidden faces crowded together, almost hiding the exchange in their hands. Others sat on their bonnets, proudly talking to the interested huddle gathered around them.

“Right, I’m gonna get warmed up,” Hoseok dropped down from the wall and departed with one last wave to your well wishes.

As Hoseok pulled his car out of its spot, more followed. Rolling down his window, he rested his arm casually against the side as he guided his car round, revving here and there to elicit hollers from the crowd.

Laughing in the driver’s seat, he hit the gas, putting on a spurt of speed and skidding round in a perfect one-eighty. A cloud was thrown up by his back tyres, glittering as the droplets fell back down.

By now, you had finished eating and were anticipating some action. The buzz among the spectators grew more as each driver messed about in the parking lot, until at last they were filing out, lining the empty road along an imaginary starting line.

“Can we go closer?” you asked Taehyung as people gravitated towards the roadside, disturbing your view.

A smile bloomed on his face and he jumped down, ditching his takeaway.

“Sure.”

Weaving in and out of the rabble to reach the front, you stood on your tiptoes to spot Hoseok’s car in the middle of the line. Taehyung stood just behind you, already speaking to someone. From your left side, a taller girl pushed past you, striding right up to the curb.

In a ripple, the pack quietened. The girl raised her hand – was that a gun? – and a bang sounded, drowned out instantaneously by the squealing of tyres and growling of engines. Within seconds, the cars had sped out of sight.

“How long is the race?” you turned to Taehyung, whose acquaintance had walked away again.

“That depends how fast Hoseok decides to go,” he murmured back, perching on the wall behind him and kicking his legs out, “they’re on one of the city circuits, main roads, so it’s just about acceleration.”

Nodding in what you hoped was a casual manner, you returned your eyes to the deserted road.

“So he’s good then, Hoseok?”

You hopped up onto the wall beside Taehyung, but it wasn’t his voice that replied.

“Oh, he’s the best.”

Your head snapped around, leaving you face to face with Yoongi. Leaning against the end of the wall, smoke swirling up from a glowing cigarette end in his hand, he looked right at home. How long had he been standing there?

“I heard you were here,” he directed a rare smile past you to Taehyung, “everyone’s wondering if you’re gonna go for a spin.”

“It’s been a long time,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Beck’s next up,” he said, as if that was meant to mean something. Based on Taehyung’s reaction, it probably did.

Shaking his head, he laughed, then bit down on his lip, still smiling, and stared into his lap.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Well you won’t have long,” Yoongi crushed his cigarette against the wall, chucking it carelessly to the ground. Sure enough, the screech of tyres and distant rumble of engines were once again becoming audible.

As Yoongi melted away into the crowd again, the sounds grew and you stood up again, craning your neck to see as far down the road as you could. Only seconds later, a pair of headlights blazed around the corner, drawing a line down your vision as the car flew towards you, followed by a tight group of others.

Stepping back, you watched as the first place car whizzed by, blowing your hair back and off your face, the rest piling across the line in a photo-finish a few seconds later.

While the cars slowed, drifting round to return to the car park and the assembled cheering crowd, an elbow nudged your arm.

“Do you fancy a ride?”

Your eyes slid between Taehyung and the cars re-entering the lot, quickly encircled by people.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you even considering saying yes? This was crazy-

“Okay!”

Taehyung held you in front of him, shielding you as together you cut a path through the excited mass towards the victor of the last race. Hoseok was grinning from ear to ear, arms in the air, high-fiving people and showing off energetic dance moves in exchange for laughter and pats on the back.

Once again, Taehyung clapped his shoulder, this time leaning in to make his request. Hanging back, you were invisible in the crowd, your face obscured.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok shouted, causing a hush, “Taehyungie’s gonna do the next one!”

Cheers and excited applause erupted as Hoseok lifted Tae’s hand in the air. The older boy jumped around while Taehyung laughed, and before long the other drivers were back in their cars. Returning to the roadside, the crowd left you behind.

“Hop in,” Taehyung told you, making his way to the driver’s side.

Though not top-end, Hoseok’s car was not inexpensive. You slid into the leather seat and buckled up, Tae doing the same before gripping the wheel and getting it moving, out and onto the road.

“So where are we going?” you eyed the rabble from your window as you passed them, low rumble of the engine almost teasing given what was to come.

“Beck,” Taehyung replied, pulling into position, one hand staying loosely on the wheel, “it’s what we call one of the courses round the back alleys down by Beck square, and it’s sort of my speciality.”

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the wide open road in front of you. A few cars over, you saw the girl from before standing on the curb.

“You ready?”

A deep breath in.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Bang.

Outside, the crowd blurred and disappeared, lights whipping past your window as you were forced back in your seat with the sudden speed.

Other cars encroached either side, penning you in but Taehyung kept his eyes ahead, locking the wheel all the way right to take you barrelling into a smaller road, with only one car ahead of you. At the back windscreen, purple headlights were bearing down on you, so close it was like a demon staring into the car.

Weaving, left, right, your car thundered after the red one ahead of you, but the gap only increased.

Snarling behind you, engine nearly as loud as your own, your main pursuer was on top of you. As you spilled out onto a wider road, it was gaining, crawling up your side.

With a glint in his eye, Taehyung took one look at the competitor, one glance to where the red car was turning the next corner some way ahead, and pulled the wheel.

Staring straight ahead, wheel at arm’s length, Taehyung pushed the car, the roaring engine riding a deafening crescendo as you powered ahead through the deserted alley he had taken you down. You winced as he rapidly squeezed past some industrial bins lining the wall, only grazing one with slight jolt – then it was a clear road to the growing exit.

Your car fired from the shortcut like a cannonball, Taehyung wrestling the wheel to bring the back tyres under control as you turned right, finding yourselves neck-and-neck with the red car from earlier.

Next, a drawn-out corner, and that was all Taehyung needed to pull away, expertly drifting around before flattening his foot to the ground, plunging into the darkest alley yet, lit only by your headlamps. But once you emerged, the wider road was back, shop signs and streetlights blurring outside.

Taking a glance behind, the red car was nowhere to be seen.

A laugh bubbled up from your throat as you fell back in your seat, exhilarated. And then there was the crowd, watching and waiting by the parking lot – you had won!

“Fuck me,” you breathed as Taehyung relaxed beside you, casually braking into a drift to turn around.

A hearty laugh returned from him as he pulled into the car park, soon getting swarmed. Exiting the car, you were both engulfed in the clamouring mass, though you managed to slip away to the midst of it. Everyone was the most interested in Taehyung.

At last, most had dispersed and only Hoseok and Yoongi were left congratulating Taehyung with hugs.

“Fun, right?” Hoseok smiled at you, inviting you into their conversation.

“Yeah.” Breathless as if you had just run the course, you laughed with them.

“Good job, you haven’t lost your touch,” Yoongi affirmed again as Hoseok left you to drive again.

By the sounds of it, the next race was a longer one. Bets had been made and you all held your breath as the cars lined up again. The starting gun did nothing to help your heart calm down after the adrenaline rush of Taehyung’s race, but you weren’t complaining. His face wore a similar joy to yours, the two of you happily sitting back after Yoongi left and laughing about the thrill of his driving.

“I dunno if I would have got away so well on the corner if Hoseok’s car wasn’t so good though-“

“Hey! Don’t downplay it, your driving was insane!”

“Maybe it was insane,” he looked down, bashful, but soon smiled back and shook his finger at you, “so don’t try this at home!”

But your laughter at his joke was interrupted.

Sailing over the buildings came the high-pitched wail of a siren. The group quietened. Listening. Perhaps it was unrelated?

A couple of people walked into the road, looking around to see if the vehicle was coming your way. It was definitely getting too close for comfort.

Taehyung stood, hand wrapping round your upper arm and lightly pulling you away from the front of the crowd, though both of you still stared at the road, hoping the sound would shrink again, pass you by.

Blue flashed against the rain-slick road, illuminating dark windows at the end of the street.

Bad luck.

“Run!”

Those who were standing in the road took off across it, away from the car park, while some scattered back to where they came from. The few cars left standing in the parking lot were starting up, leaving by the alleys. And in the middle of the crowd, you and Taehyung started running.

In seconds the parking lot had emptied, and now you were alone with Taehyung as other members of the party vaulted walls away from the sirens and shouting police officers, the slamming of car doors as they gave chase.

Air rushed in and out of your lungs as your feet pounded after Taehyung, going as fast as you could but still falling behind. Dark buildings either side of you were painted in blue as light fell down the alleyway from the cars that had scattered you. Up ahead, Taehyung rounded a corner, but it was lost in darkness and you weren’t sure which one he had gone down.

You didn’t stop running.

“Stop there! Police!”

A woman yelled from the other end of the street, making you push yourself harder.

Just then, Taehyung skidded back around the corner you had just reached and grabbed your hand before you could think, and now he was pulling you away, taking turn after turn through dark streets you had never seen before. Stumbling after him, you clutched his hand, your lifeline.

You must have lost them by now. No blue lights could be seen, no sirens or shouts heard, no other footsteps but your own.

You hoped you had lost them by now. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your head spun, lungs failing to cooperate, evicting air in heavy bursts, taking it in too slow. In your side, the pain couldn’t be masked by the painkiller anymore, pinching mercilessly with every step.

You had to slow down.

Legs failing you, you finally gave in to stopping.

The sudden tug and then loss of your hand in his made Taehyung turn around, finding you doubled over, panting and pale in the face. Eyes scanning the street beyond you for danger, he moved forwards, hands gripping your arms.

“Hey, Y/N, can you keep going?”

Only your hyperventilating answered him.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Trying to pull you up to look at him, he was only met with your body going heavier in his arms, forcing him to scramble to wrap his arms around your back as you went limp.

Cursing, he lowered you to the ground but didn’t let go. Not taking his eyes off your face, he caught the moment your eyes opened again once you were leant against the wall.

A short breath escaped him, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you managed, breathing more even now, “my side…”

“It’s alright, you can rest for a bit,” he assured you, finally releasing you and sitting back on his heels.

One more check up and down the alley.

“Were we seriously just running from police?” you laughed slightly, bringing his attention back to you.

“First time for everything,” he mused, sitting down beside you.

“I guess,” you chuckled, still a little breathless, “so is the racing over?”

“For tonight. It gets busted occasionally, so when the others get back and see everyone’s gone they’ll know what happened.”

“Is Hoseok going to get arrested?”

“Shouldn’t do. He’s had plenty of practice evading cops.”

Nodding, your eyes returned to the ground. It was easy to forget how much experience Taehyung and the other bangtan boys had in all this; you were just here for the ride.

“You had your painkiller, right?” Taehyung broke the brief silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you quickly confirmed, “and I feel better now, I just, I dunno what happened…”

“And your iron pill?”

“Hmm? Oh, the red ones… no, I-I don’t think so.”

He clicked his tongue.

“That’ll be it then. You’re taking one as soon as we get home.”

Despite feeling a little like you were being scolded, you smiled, about to respond when a scuffle from the end of the street made you both turn your heads.

As you watched the dimly lit space, a silhouette ran past in a blur, followed by a slower figure, wearing an unmistakeable bulky police vest. They jogged past the opening to your street, but soon their outline reappeared, empty handed.

Breath catching in your throat, you went obligingly with Taehyung as he stood silently, his arm guiding you behind him without taking his eyes off the cop. As quickly as you dared, you both retreated, wincing at each slight crunch beneath your feet. In the silence, the crackling of a police radio, though incomprehensible, was clearly heard, and the officer mumbled back into it.

Spying an opening to hide you from view, you gathered this was your target. Holding your breath, you approached it, swinging around the corner at the first opportunity with only one glance back.

One glance that showed the cop’s head turning towards you.

This alley was much smaller than the other, and you found yourself facing Taehyung in much the same way you had in his hallway when you first came barging into his life. Searching his face, you wondered if he had seen what you did just now.

“Tae-“

His lips formed around a shushing sound that barely left his mouth, and in one small step, he was up against you, a finger steady on your lips to silence you. All you could do was hold your tongue and stare as he looked past you, tentatively dipping his head out of your hiding spot, never lowering his finger.

“They’re gone,” he spoke, voice still impossibly low.

Swallowing, you removed your eyes from his face, glancing up the alley you were now on. It was a dead end, home only to a large dumpster surrounded by smashed glass and needles. You couldn’t leave this way, which would explain why you needed to wait here, in case the cop was still close by.

What it didn’t explain was why Taehyung was still so close to you.

Although his hand had now lowered, you could feel his body heat from this proximity. The zip of his undone jacket brushed against the front of your hoodie.

Your tongue ran across your lips. Eyes finally diverted from the potential dangers outside, Taehyung was now looking at you.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, regretting opening your mouth. You had no idea what you had planned to say.

Luckily, you were startled from the situation as a chiming ringtone broke through the moment.

Scrambling to scoop his phone from his pocket and answer it, Taehyung stumbled back, eyeing the alleyway outside in a panic. Thankfully, no one had heard. Better get moving.

“Hello?”

Not even getting a look at the caller in his rush to pick it up, Jungkook’s voice answering him was a relief.

Mindlessly grabbing your hand in his, Taehyung started walking with you beside him as he listened to the younger member. As you passed through the end of the street, he took a look both ways before leading you the opposite way to that the police officer had taken.

Holding Kim Taehyung’s hand was something you had never seen coming. But here you were.

You didn’t complain though. His grip was firm, comfortable, and walking with him this way felt… normal. How that was even possible, you didn’t know, and you blamed it on your lingering light-headedness – of course you would want to feel grounded.

But somehow, far away from all you knew in backstreets you had never seen before, after a very illegal night, with a gang member talking in serious tones over the phone next to you, you felt perfectly at home.

“Cheers, Kook. Night.”

Taehyung shut off the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. By now you had reached more well-lit roads that you imagined would be busy by day. Now, of course, you were the only ones here. God knew what time it was.

The only light brighter than the streetlamps was the interior of a 24-hour convenience store, a good indication that it was by no means a civilised hour. Still without letting your hand go, Taehyung led you inside.

Standing in front of the wall of fizzy drinks, he ordered you to pick one before swiping a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. The teenage cashier didn’t look you in the eye once as he rung you up, and then you were on your way. Only now did Taehyung drop your hand, passing you the chocolate with a command to get your sugar up and himself tearing into the crisps.

When you had worked through the first row, he spoke up.

“Jungkook was on the phone about your dad.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, having just put another square in your mouth.

“Well he’s okay. He hasn’t been hurt, but as you know, Shinhyuk’s forced him to hand over your apartment for the gang to use. He’s forcing him to work for him, full-time, with the threat of harm to you if he doesn’t… Apparently he was accused of stealing drugs from a deal and that warrants all this – though it’s probably baseless. Shinhyuk had his eyes on your place already.”

You watched your feet as you listened. It had been easy to put your dad out of your mind for the sake of your sanity, the not knowing taking you round in circles, but hearing that he was still alive took a weight from you.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said, greeted with your silence, “we’re fighting against Shinhyuk, and we’ll try to help him. Try not to worry about him losing his job, I mean-“

“Worry?” you looked up at him, “He’s alive! There’s nothing to be sorry for! Can you thank Jungkook for finding this out?”

A small, relieved smile crossed Taehyung’s face.

“Course I can,” he grinned, then held out your Fanta, “now don’t forget about your sugar.”

After this, the walk home was surprisingly short. Given how lost you were, you had thought you were half the city away, but in next to no time you turned onto recognisable streets. Strolling through the dark eating sugary snacks, it felt as if you were coming home from the movies, or any venture more innocent than your night of racing.

As the pair of you were climbing Tae’s front steps, he offered to make tea to warm up. Needless to say, you were fully on board with the idea.

He set to work, the kitchen lit dimly by lights tucked underneath the cupboards.

However, leaning against the wall waiting for the water to boil, you began to feel just how tired you were, both physically and mentally. But you could sleep later: you didn’t want the night to end yet. Deciding on a middle ground, you gave in to sliding down the wall, seating yourself on the floor. Not a move you would have chosen at your most alert moments, but it couldn’t be helped.

At your downwards movement, Taehyung spun around, dropping the teaspoon with a clatter.

But then he saw you staring back at him in bewilderment, and his eyes closed as he huffed in equal parts relief and frustration.

“God, I thought you were passing out again,” he grumbled.

Soon the bag of red pills landed in front of you on the tile. Sheepishly smiling, you gulped one down, and then a mug of tea filled its space.

“Oh, we don’t have to stay here,” you frowned at Tae as he sat down opposite you on the kitchen floor, leaning his back against the cupboards as he cradled his tea.

“Nah, it’s a unique perspective,” he said, “I’ve never sat here before and it’s my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your kitchen looks super different from down here,” a smile threatened to break your baffled frown, though you did pick up your mug, breathing in the inviting steam rising from it.

“So was tonight okay?” Taehyung smiled over his mug, eyes creasing a little as they watched for your answer.

“Mmm, yeah,” you swallowed your first sip of tea, “I’ve never… done anything like that before. But I thought it was really exciting! Hoseok is so nice too, letting you drive his car.”

Tae let out a short laugh, eyes disappearing for a moment.

“I practically learnt to drive in Hobi’s cars.”

“Wait, cars? As in, cars, plural?”

“Yeah,” his wide grin stayed on his face, both rows of his teeth visible in the low light, “tonight was just small races, he didn’t get out the big guns. You should see his Bugatti.”

Your eyes bulged from your head.

“I’m not even going to ask where he got the money for that,” you mumbled, still in awe.

“He didn’t,” Taehyung smirked. Rolling your eyes, you breathed a laugh, soon diving back into your tea.

“Was it alright with Yoongi there?” he asked next. His eyes were wider now, curious, smile dimming, “I know he hasn’t exactly been…”

“No, it was fine,” you assured, “I get that he doesn’t like me, but he seems to tolerate me now, so I won’t push him.”

“He did sort of beat you up before, though,” Tae pointed out.

“I nearly beat him up back!” you joked, admittedly motivated by genuine defensiveness, “I could have handed his ass to him any time I pleased, but I chose to give you the satisfaction of saving me instead.”

Taehyung responded by snorting into his tea.

“You are so rude,” you tipped your foot over to playfully kick his thigh as you both laughed.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re not too bothered by Yoongi,” Taehyung said once the laughter had passed, though his smile still lingered, “he looks so tough, but he’s a massive softie really.”

You simply raised your eyebrows.

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

“I’ll wait,” you scoffed, “although I don’t find him scary exactly… he sort of reminds me of that evil magician from Archie-wizz- did you watch that?”

“Yes! I used to watch that every day after school!”

“Yeah, so you know the one I’m on about, right? He was always lurking around corners, like, the camera would turn around and there he was, like he’d been there the whole time. That’s Yoongi!”

Tae barked a disbelieving laugh.

“You mean Count E. Vil? Yoongi would flip shit if he heard you compared him to a cartoon.”

“Count E. Vil? That was his name?”

“Yeah, and every time he appeared, Archie was like ‘didn’t see ya there!’”

“Yeah, yeah it is that one,” you laughed at the memory, “was that seriously his name? I must have forgotten.”

“You know, the more I think about, the more I can see it,” Taehyung was laughing too, “you just turn around and he’s like – bam – looking all cool…”

Taehyung schooled his face into a death stare just like Yoongi’s to demonstrate, making you crack up even more. He didn’t last long before the act broke down, laughter creeping into his poker mouth and now the both of you were bent over your knees with tears in your eyes, wheezing with the kind of infectious laughter that is most at home after lights out at a sleepover.

“Not a word of this to Yoongi, understand,” Tae joked when you had both calmed down, voice worn out from the laughing fit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Comfortable silence warmed the room for a moment as you both drank more tea. Odd though your little scene was, with you both sat on the floor, legs outstretched in the middle, it was cosy. The glow of fading LEDs that barely lit your faces separated you from the darkness of the outside. In all the world, it felt as though you two were the only ones, safe in your unorthodox sanctuary.

“How…”

You spoke before you had figured out how to phrase your question, but now Taehyung had lifted his eyes back to you.

“How did you… Who started, I mean, with bangtan…”

“How did we get together?”

You gave a small nod.

“Some of us go way back,” he set his tea down, “I mean, I went to high school with Jimin. And Yoongi’s from the same city as me, and we used to know each other when we were tiny. His family was connected to Namjoon’s, and that’s where it started – their families started the whole crime thing, and they started training together.

“We all sort of fell together, I think Jin’s family needed help from Namjoon’s and he stayed on; Jungkook knew Jimin from childhood, and he showed up asking for help when we had already started; Jin found Hoseok at college. I started, and Jimin came along too, because Yoongi wanted me. We had been out of touch for years, but I still knew who he was.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“It’s sort of complicated, I know,” he directed a shy smile at his cup.

“Well, that’s life,” you said quietly, “but you guys work so well together. I guess you got lucky.”

Taehyung’s nod was solemn.

“Yeah. But it’s more than just working – they’re my brothers now.”

Tilting your head as you listened, you believed him.

“You guys seem to understand each other so well.”

“We do – we always have each other’s backs, you know? I wouldn’t stick around in this for just anyone.”

“By ‘this’, do you mean…” you rested your chin on your knees, still listening intently.

“Everything we’re known for: drugs, fights, racing… I never intended to get into all that. I try to be careful, and moral, about it, we all do. But I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in a gang forever?”

By now you were both talking in hushed tones as if you were huddled under blankets.

“No, I don’t think so,” he pondered, “I’m not sure what I want to be, though.”

“How about your art?” you smiled, “or fashion. Those books you got me were really interesting. Or your music? You’re a good singer-“

Cutting yourself off, your eyes widened. Taehyung had been nodding along, considering your options, but now he stared straight back at you.

“You heard me singing?”

“U-uh, yeah, I did,” you stammered, heat glowing in your cheeks, “I was half asleep, but I thought you were so good.”

“Thanks,” Tae’s voice was lower in pitch now, and he swallowed and looked down, his dark hair obscuring most of his face so he almost melted into the darkness. He cleared his throat, “I’ve never sung to anyone else before.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly sing to me,” you spoke softly, reaching a hand to his knee, “but it was amazing anyway. I mean it.”

You were glad to see a genuine smile blooming on his face as he looked back up again.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, “I’m not gonna leave the boys. Even when I’m not in a gang, they’ll always be my family. I’m not letting that go.”

“I understand.”

You really did. Your only family was across the city, torn from you and forced to work for Shinhyuk.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand back from his knee.

Draining the last dregs of his cold tea, Taehyung let the silence settle.

“I miss college,” you eventually confess into the quiet room, “I hope I get to go back.”

“Even Professor Han’s class?” Tae’s low voice joked.

“Oh, I don’t think I miss it that much,” you smiled, though it was overtaken by a sigh.

“You’ll go back,” came the reassurance.

A pause.

“We… we’re hoping we can beat Shinhyuk in this whole thing. We’re sort of working on a plan.”

Instantly intrigued, you stared expectantly across the kitchen at Taehyung, who heaved a sigh and began to explain.

“Shinhyuk has his weaknesses, and thanks to Jungkook we’ve found the worst. He works differently to us. He doesn’t care for anyone in his gang, and they don’t care for each other. Like your dad, he keeps most of them there with blackmail, so we’ve been trying to pick people off. If we can infiltrate well enough, guarantee his members a safe escape from the gang, or find some blackmail of our own to get them, we should be able to weaken him and catch him off-guard when his safety net isn’t there to catch him anymore…”

“Is it going to work?” you breathed into the still air.

Taehyung pursed his lips. You were very conscious of your breathing as you waited for an answer. In. Out.

“It has to.”

I will love you forever if you reblog! Comment or message me to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @kim-ji-hyeons-world @preciouschimine @just-a-dorito @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @veronawrites @tatastaetaemainblog @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ironica-m8 @min-shadow @harleygirl808 @aianloveseven @rjsmochii @vantooru @un2-verse @thatbemyhouse

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pippytmi · 5 years ago

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ceo!au + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do. Please thank you

“You have a real mean way about you.”

Click. Click. Click. The lighter refuses to do its job; Lena finally just places the unlit cigarette between her lips and inwardly bemoans her luck. What are the odds—a pissed off Kara Danvers, a lighter that won’t light, and to top it all off, the faint bass from inside sounds suspiciously like the electronic music she’d told the DJ not to play.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Lena says dryly. “How did you get past security?”

Kara comes up beside her; Lena tracks her in the corner of her eye. “Your security isn’t very good,” she replies simply.

“Figures.” Lena turns, then, and leans as lightly as she can against the metal railing. “Your manners aren’t very good either. No hello?”

“We don’t say hello to each other.” Kara looks more disheveled than Lena has ever seen her. Tie undone, white shirt wrinkled where it tucks into her pants, bun of hair unkempt. For a moment she says nothing more; Lena watches as she rests her elbows against the railing, shoulders taut with tension. “I’m tired,” she declares suddenly. “Of fighting with you.”

Lena sighs, rolls her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger and wishes it were lit. “That's all we do,” she says. “We fight each other. You cause trouble for me, I cause trouble for you…”

“You stole my merger with Edge.” Kara’s voice is quiet, but as bitter as expected. She asks no questions, makes no probing inquiry, just states the fact hollowly.

“I did you a favor,” Lena says flippantly. “He would have severely underpaid you.”

“So you decided to—what, exactly? Make sure he paid you more?” Now there is anger sharpening at the edges of Kara’s words, but not a dangerous kind of anger. It is a muted kind, one more self-directed.

A weariness makes itself known in Lena’s chest, heavy and confusing. “Yes,” she says. She has no qualms of stealing mergers from anyone, but somehow this time…this time, she feels a bit of pity. “He was making a fool out of you, Kara. I stepped in, blackmailed him a little, and then he doubled his offer. That's how business works. You wouldn't know it because you're too naive, but—”

“Oh, I’m naive?” Kara laughs, but unkindly. Her expression is pinched; she makes a move to run her fingers through her hair, but it’s still somewhat upright, so she settles for clenching her hand into a fist. “Forgive me for trying to be a good person and not a cutthroat bitch.”

“There is no place for good people in our line of work.” Lena has long since mastered an impressive poker face, and she tries her best to remain impassive when she adds, “I suggest you get used to it. And while you're at it, you can make your way out of my house.” That seems to spark some kind of guilt—Kara slumps against the railing with a low, empty sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Kara apologizes lowly. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t think you’re a bitch at all.”

“I’ve heard worse.” Lena, in order to not see the look on Kara’s face, tries the lighter again. This time a flame emerges, flickering in the wind, thin and shaking. But it lights her cigarette all the same. “Do you smoke?” Only then does her gaze lift, and she sees Kara watching, now straightened to her full height.

“No.” Kara places her hands in her pockets, shifts sideways slightly. She is taller than Lena, and Lena inwardly berates herself for not wearing heels tonight. “Why?”

“Well I was going to offer you a cigarette, but I guess I won’t.” Lena takes a slow drag, feels her body warm with it. Smoking is a habit she can't seem to quit, and it's her one vice she's actually ashamed about. “Unless you want one anyway.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, I’d probably choke,” she declines. “It wouldn’t be very attractive.” The wind picks up; a few tendrils of hair that have escaped from her bun brush over her forehead, and she makes no move to tuck them away. “Knowing you, you would use that as blackmail for me next.”

Lena inhales smoke and sighs. “I already have enough blackmail material on you, Kara Danvers,” she says. This, too, is a fact.

“You do? Like what?”

“Like…I know you took over your cousin's company because of a kidnapping scandal involving your nephew.” Lena takes immense pleasure in the way Kara's eyes darken dangerously; she has always suspected there was some steel under that goody-goody exterior. “Clark Kent must have paid a pretty penny to the press to keep his little boy out of the papers.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” Kara says sharply.

Lena shrugs. “It's not bad blackmail material,” she points out. “Everyone loves a good sacrifice story. It would make you look heroic if it came to light.”

“It would put Clark and his family in danger.” Kara’s face twists into the harshest kind of disgust—the kind Lena expects.

“Then you better hope I never have a reason to use it against you,” Lena says airily, stubbing her cigarette out; even smoking can’t bring her joy right now. Something about the way Kara stares at her—disappointedly—makes her skin crawl.

Kara takes a step towards Lena. They’ve gravitated close already, but this is deliberate. Her eyes, blue and sharp, are locked entirely on Lena’s. “Right,” she says. “Is that the best you can do? Threaten my family?”

Lena tilts her head up to meet her gaze head-on. “That’s just the surface of the knowledge I have on you,” she warns, and she leans in now, tugging at the undone knot of Kara’s tie. Kara comes when she is pulled, though she swallows hard enough that it’s audible.

“What else?” Kara asks. She breathes in tune with Lena now, their faces mere inches from each other.

“I also know…” Lena has more details about Kara Danvers. She does. But right now there’s one glaring fact right in front of her—one that is all too delicious to pass up. “I know that you want to kiss me right now.”

Kara stiffens; Lena feels it in the resistance of her tie. She jerks away a beat later, cheeks red and jaw clenched, to put some distance between them. “That’s,” she breathes out. “That is—” She can’t seem to be able to string her words together. “There you go again, with the mean streak. It’s not nice.”

“I thought we established I’m not nice,” Lena reminds her, an odd pang settles in the bottom of her stomach. “At least, not to anyone who poses a threat to Luthor Corp.”

“I’m not a threat to you or your company.”

“It’s not personal, Kara,” Lena says, and wishes she hadn’t put out her cigarette. “I have appearances to keep. You understand—it’s politics, all of it. Business politics.”

“So you hate me because I’m your competition?” Kara frowns. “Just like that?”

“I don’t hate you.” And as she confesses it, Lena realizes that it’s true. That maybe—maybe for once—she is also tired of fighting. “Even though I would like to, I don’t.”

“You want to hate me?” Something in Kara’s voice is raw, hopeful, and it hurts to hear. “Why?”

“I’m Lena Luthor. I’m supposed to be selfish and self-centered, remember? That’s the image everyone wants.” Fuck it; Lena reaches for her lighter again. But before she can, Kara’s hand covers hers.

“For the record,” Kara says, “I don’t hate you either.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Lena quips, casting an uncomfortable glance towards the balcony doors. Inside the party rages on, and no one is witnessing this show of weakness, but it doesn’t feel right. Lena feels exposed; there is no coming back from this,

Kara smiles and it’s faint, but a smile nonetheless. And for all her shortcomings—the messy state of her evening wear, the stubborn shade of blue of her eyes—Lena has to suck in a breath when Kara leans in. Her hand rests on Lena’s cheek, her skin frozen and her touch overwhelmingly gentle.

“You were right,” Kara says quietly. “I did want to kiss you tonight.” Her thumb traces a slow, steady path down Lena’s jaw, and Lena feels her heart hiccup. Then Kara surprises her—she leans in enough to brush a kiss to Lena’s cheek softly, cold breath exhaling against her skin. “You can add that to your blackmail list, too,” she says, stepping away, and when she places her hands in her pockets this time it’s with a sense of finality.

Lena almost lets her leave. But her heart thumps loudly in her ears and clouds her judgement entirely; she pulls Kara back, says “Wait—” and not much else, because then Kara is kissing her properly. Or maybe she is kissing Kara, winding her arms around Kara’s neck and squeezing her close because she fears the moment she will have to let go.

Kara is the first to break away. For a moment all she does is gaze down at Lena, bewildered, and says nothing. Then: “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react.”

Lena bites her lip. “You could exploit this,” she says, “and use it as blackmail against me.”

“Right…or?”

“Or,” and Lena smooths out the collar of Kara’s shirt, which seems to be stained with some kind of liquor. “You could kiss me again.”

“Well, blackmail does sound fun.” And then Kara is smiling, soft and ridiculously wide, and Lena knows everything has changed.

#thank you anon!!#supercorp #i need a fic tag #anonymous #psa: i do not have the range for enemies to lovers im sorry #but i will make a valiant effort #and yes that is a threat

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ylizam · 3 years ago

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is WIP amnesty still a thing?

anyway, here is a scene from the Beverly/Will/Deanna thing I spent way too much time thinking about in the existential sense of, “hmm, what if Beverly shows up right after Picard left” and “how do we deal with Picard-era JLP not being quite right?” and “oh of course they’ve been a long-term long-distance thing and Will bakes comfort foods and Deanna understands Beverly in a way that makes Beverly Uncomfortable sometimes and it’s both soft and also hard-as-in-difficult and prickly but also important and loving and when Beverly goes back to her ship to save the galaxy from pandemics and whatnot she thinks back to their arms as home,” and not enough time actually figuring any sort of plot or writing anything god forbid. so!

“You just missed him, you know.” Deanna smiles when she says it, though, gentle and not actually chiding. Beverly drops her bag on the ground. Steps into Deanna’s open arms for a very necessary hug.

“I know,” Beverly says, when she finally settles into the safety of Deanna’s arms. “Laris called to let me know he’d left on some sort of epic quest, and to shoot him for her if I saw him. And then Will warned me he was actually here. Although I’m still not entirely sure whether he was trying to tell me to take my time or to push warp nine.”

“Neither,” Deanna says. She releases Beverly, but mostly so she can make sure to maintain eye contact. “Or both. Either. I think Will was mostly telling you to do what you needed to do, and that we’d support you in that choice, in that Will way of his.”

Beverly lifts her bag and hitches it on her shoulder. “Well, in the end, Cardassia made the decision for me. We got stuck dealing with another outbreak in Lakarian City, and there was a mandatory quarantine period even I couldn’t get us out of.”

“Jean-Luc, he’s,” Deanna says.

“I know.” Beverly may not be his treating physician anymore, may barely even merit the title of friend these days—more his fault than hers this go-around, but they’ve both had their turns at fucking things up—but she’s seen his medical records recently enough to know that his brain’s a ticking time bomb.

“I think he’s enjoying this opportunity for one last great adventure.” Deanna is careful, gentle, kind to everyone involved in this mess; she’s a fierce protector to all of them, and Beverly chafes at the feeling that Deanna’s trying to handle her. To handle them.

“I’m glad,” Beverly snaps.

Deanna grasps Beverly’s empty hand. “You’ve every right to be angry with him,” she says.

“Oh, I am. But”—and how to explain this? She doesn’t even fully understand it herself, and it’s her own damned brain—“I’d rather he go out in a blaze of glory than continue to hide himself away in France waiting to die. Although I think he really hurt Laris when he left; he can be so unthinkingly callous when he has a mission to plan.”

She just wishes he’d thought to say goodbye to her as part of his grand farewell tour. (Even a message, a letter, something left with Will and Deanna or sent through subspace to her ship. She’s not difficult to find, and they’d been so close, for such a large part of her life. For him to head off to tilt at one last windmill, to run toward certain death, without a word? And the worst of it is that he probably didn’t mean to hurt her. To hurt any of them. He had a quest, after all.)

Deanna doesn’t respond (to either her words or her obvious emotional turmoil). They make their way through the woods; Beverly can’t hear her, can’t see her through the leaves and foliage, but she can feel the comforting presence of Kestra following behind them, probably dragging some sort of dead animal with her for dinner.

“How’s Will taking it?” Beverly asks.

“About as well as you are,” Deanna answers. “Or I am. He’s Jean-Luc, and he’s going off to fight some sort of cosmic evil without any of us at his back, all while—“

“—dying,” Beverly says. Fuck.

“Yes.” Deanna stops then, still about another ten minutes from the house, and turns back to Beverly. “With a new crew and a new mission.”

“I am so angry at him, Deanna.” She kicks at a cluster of stones. Takes no small amount of pleasure at the sound of the cracking against one another. And then it hits her: “Shit, do you know if he’s told anyone else—Worf, Geordi, anyone?—or are they going to find out when the obituary hits the news?”

“He didn’t say,” Deanna says. “I only know he didn’t tell you because you’ve told me as much.”

“I’ll call them—“

“We’ll call them,” Deanna says. “After dinner, after a few drinks, maybe some of the chocolate cake Will baked last night.”

“I could kill him myself.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

Beverly feels like her entire body deflates. The air punched out of her.

“I hate that you know that,” she says. She reaches for Deanna this time, steps close enough to lean down and press a soft kiss to her mouth. “That you know me well enough to know that I’m mostly bark.”

“Ah,” Deanna says. She kisses Beverly once, twice, quickly, and then takes her hand again. “But when you do bite, it is always deadly.”

Beverly pulls her back. This time the kiss is anything but short, anything but gentle. Her hands gravitate to Deanna’s hair, to the back of her head, to her ears and neck and back to her hair. She nips at Deanna’s lower lip.

“Ew,” Kestra says. Beverly jumps back, thinks Kestra’s voice is coming from above. She looks around, but can’t see anything but nature. She’d think she was imagining it, but then Kestra adds, “I’m right here.”

And then she jumps down in front of them. An animal Beverly doesn’t recognize is strung up in what she assumes is Kestra’s standard hunting gear, her bow and arrows in a quiver on her back.

“Is that for dinner?” Beverly asks.

“Nah,” Kestra says. “We’ll cure it, make bacon from it.”

“Oh.”

“It’s better that way,” Kestra says. “It’s too tough otherwise.”

“I stand corrected then,” Beverly says.

She feels a little judged, but she’s never pretended that a detailed knowledge of the local flora and fauna of Nepenthe are a particular strength of hers. General survival, yes; the edible plant life on any number of Federation worlds, also yes. But she’s never spent more than a few months here at a time, and at first, well. There was Thad.

She’d been so cocky. So sure that, given the opportunity, she’d be able to find a cure that didn’t require artificial life. And she could therefore tell Kestra which barks make a tea so noxious that everyone in a five kilometer radius would feel dizzy, faint, and that there are fungi on the eastern shore of the lake that could stave off nausea. But food, no, that had been Will’s particular interest: he’d cook, and bake, and feed them all in the panicked hope (and growing despair) that they might be able to save his son.

“Come on,” Deanna says, interrupting her spiraling guilt. “Will’s probably starting to worry.”

“Right,” Beverly says.

Kestra rolls her eyes, but Beverly thinks she’s secretly a little pleased about her father’s very obvious love. She darts ahead of them—so fast, so young, so alive.

“Come on,” she calls back, “I smell pizza!”

#a thing that i wrote #wip amnesty #star trek: the next generation #star trek: picard #beverly crusher #will riker #deanna troi #beverly x will x deanna #anyway maybe i'll clean it up and put it on ao3 one day #and maybe i won't #who can even say

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heartsofbeskar · 4 years ago

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from the ashes

chapter six | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

WORDS: 3.2K

EXCERPT: He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PREV | NEXT

Ten couldn’t think of a better sound than the Ursa’s engines finally running again. Decidedly less strained than before, she thought. Though that may have just been wishful thinking.

They’d been sequestered on the asteroid for the better part of two standard weeks. The time they’d lost was valuable, but nothing compared to the time they’d lose if the Ursa bailed on them mid-flight.

On the surface, spending time with the Mandalorian was not too much different than spending time alone. He barely spoke unless he was spoken to, and moved around like a ghost, despite the heavy armour. But there was something … imposing about the man. Not threatening, but Ten could feel his presence in a room, sometimes even feel his eyes on her. It wholly unsettled her— not that she’d let him know that.

Much — well actually all — of their conversation in the recent days had centered around where the hell to go next. It was obvious an Imperial conspirator had inside knowledge of the job and that Ten and Mando were the ones working it. They had a list of contacts from Greef Karga who may have information; to seek out those contacts now would surely be suicide, for everyone involved.

“You feel sure about Ronhar Kraz?” Ten asked. The armoured man sat to her right nodded slowly. Kraz was a businessman who specialized in textiles and linen trade between the core and the Outer Rim. Seemingly benign, but he used those same textiles and linen to smuggle weapons during the days of the Empire. For both sides.

“It feels too obvious,” she mused. “Former weapons smuggler turned Imperial double agent. Why even attach your name onto this if so many people in the Outer Rim know you worked with the Empire?”

“You’re assuming a level of intelligence and foresight I don’t often attribute to Imps,” he said.

“That’s the mindset that gets you fucked over eventually,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Is that what happened to you?”

Ten turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “You should watch that metal mouth or I’ll find something that will bend beskar.”

She heard a short breathy noise she’d come to known as a laugh processed through his modulator.

They’d almost passed through the outer boundary of the asteroid field, so she focused on steering through the last of the rocks. An itch had settled under her skin in the past few days, an urge to go, go, go, escape the confines of this belt they’d found themselves unexpectedly marooned within. As much as she still dreaded getting tangled up in Empire business, she felt that coursing of adrenaline in her veins that had been escaping her for many months now. That thrill of her life being put on the line of her own volition.

That adrenaline spiked again as they were fired on.

—

“Shit!” Ten cursed, the ship veering sharply upon impact. Din reacted on instinct, seat spinning towards the weapons controls he’d made a point of committing to memory. “They must have followed our ion trail to the edge of the belt. Have the fuckers just been waiting here the whole time?”

Another hit struck them, almost sending Din flying into the viewport. As he lurched, his gaze locked on the ships in front of them, before Ten steered them quickly away in an evasive maneuver. The ships pursued. He wasn’t surprised he recognized the ships, but he was surprised that—

“Those are New Republic ships. That’ll be why we weren’t vapourized on sight.” He paused as he attempted to target lock the ships still following close behind. There were too many asteroids lingering in the belt’s gravitational pull for them to jump to hyperspace. He needed to buy time. “Are you wanted?”

Ten didn’t look at him as she pushed their speed, but he could somehow feel her rolling her eyes at him. “No, I��m not an idiot. Even if I was, the Ursa’s totally off register, there’s no way—”

“Torpedo approaching lower left engine exhaust,” he interrupted. Cursing again, she took them as far right as possible — and right towards a large asteroid. Din braced, but she slowed their speed enough to whip them quickly around its circumference. He had to admit she was an impressive pilot.

“Are you wanted?”

“...Yes.”

“Now why am I not surprised by—”

She was cut off by the incoming communication alarm. They exchanged glances before Ten reached forward and set off the acceptance switch.

“Unidentified vessel,” came the drone of a New Republic officer. “Cut your engines immediately and prepare for boarding.”

“And why the hell should we do that?” Ten snapped, taking them through a narrow gap between asteroids. Din rolled his eyes now beneath the helmet.

“You are wanted for the murder of Jula Lars. Cut your engines immediately and prepare to be taken into custody. Failure to comply can result in—”

Ten slammed her hand down on the controls and cut off the channel. Din noticed her other hand tightening on the steering gears, knuckles going white. The scars he knew to be there were barely visible.

“Those fuckers … do you have a target lock on the ships? I’m going to blast them from the fucking sky,” she snapped.

As lightly as he dared, Din placed a hand on her arm that was closest to him. “They’re only doing their job. Obviously the Imps put them on our tail. No one else knew we were there.”

“Oh and you’re now the sudden pacifist?” she turned her head to glare at him. It felt like ice began flowing through his veins.

“We don’t need to help create more victims to the Empire,” he said lowly. Something flashed in her eyes. She kept eye contact with him for as long as she dared before turning forward to continue steering.

“Fine,” was all she said. A pause. More shots volleying around them, missing the ship as it weaved. “Then we need to go to hyperspace. Now.”

“There’s still too many asteroids we could—”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, Mandalorian,” she said, and she was already engaging, then ramping their speed and then— rocks flew past them as superliminal speeds as they were catapulted into hyperspace. Din held his breath the entire time, certain they were headed straight for a rock which, at these speeds, would vapourize them for sure.

He let it go when he realized they were clear. Looking beside him, he saw Ten staring at him, her scarred eyebrow raised. “I told you to trust me.”

He scoffed, still feeling on edge. “Set the course for Leotis IV.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

—

Ten landed the Ursa as discreetly as she could, a few kilometres out from the Kraz estate. Thankfully it didn’t seem the New Republic had any insight on where they were going, only where they had been. But there was no guessing how long that would last.

Mando was in the hold, already securing his blaster into his belt. She recognized a couple other models and … something that didn’t look like a blaster at all. Before she could get a longer look his cloak fell over it.

“Kraz’s estate only has minimum security in place. Security cameras, only two from the back, no motion sensors,” she said, opening up the weapons compartment.

“How do you know all this?” Mando asked, entering her field of view. She looked up from where she was sheathing throwing knives. She shrugged at him.

“You hunt people, I hunt information. It’s my business to know my way around prominent figure’s properties.” Reaching up, Ten finally grabbed her blaster from the top shelf it sat on. She knew she could very likely do this without it, but it would probably appease Mando.

“If he is working with the Empire, he may have increased his security since your latest information,” he noted. She nodded as she hung her own cloak around her shoulders.

“At least then it would make for a challenge,” she said, nodding her head towards the door.

They closed the distance from the Ursa on foot so as not to be seen by anyone on the grounds. The tree cover was just enough to hide it from view overhead. Mando seemed to want to take the walk in their usual state of silence, and Ten didn’t complain.

As they walked, Ten admired the foliage that seemed to grow at mostly knee height on this planet. It bloomed undisturbed in the gaps left by the trees, enjoying the unrestricted sunlight. The rays seemed to bounce off the petals which appeared in every colour.

It made her think of Yaim. The trees there had been much denser, and wider. But the air seemed to vibrate in the same way, the wind so delicate Ten could almost close her eyes and imagine it was tender fingers on her cheek.

She reached out, as she would always do when she was a girl, and felt that unwavering presence, its weight bearing down on her bones and her soul alike. But … less heavy than usual, which surprised her.

Finally, they reached the wall which indicated the edge of the property, It wasn’t high, maybe four or five metres by Ten’s estimation. The surface was uneven, and she grabbed a hold of the texture, testing it.

“This should work. If we can scale to the—” She was cut off by a sharp whizzing noise beside her. As she examined the grappling hook connected to his vambrace, she was absolutely sure he was smirking beneath the helmet. “Or we could do it that way.”

He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

“Hold on tight,” was all he said, and then they were rapidly ascending up, up, past the rough stones in the wall, until Mando swung them onto the top, which was thankfully flat. “You can let go now.”

“Right,” she breathed. Shaking her head, she turned towards the building now filling their view. As she’d planned, the route to the wall had taken them close to the back corner of the property. If her information was current, Kraz only had cameras facing his back and front entrances. “You’ve got a scope on that pulse rifle, right? Can you see the cameras on the back wall?”

Swinging the rifle around to rest on his shoulder, he wordlessly aimed at the building. Ten studied his stance from the corner of her eye. His feet were heavy, planted shoulder width apart. He didn’t sway as the wind picked up, a solid beskar statue in the foreign landscape.

Suddenly he fired once, then twice. Ten flinched at the unexpected noise. Finally, he spoke. “The cameras are taken care of.”

“A little warning next time?” Before he could respond, she flung herself from the wall. She braced herself on her hands as she landed, Mando dropping beside her a moment later. She held up a hand.

After a few beats of silence, she nodded at him. “Seems like they haven’t upgraded security after all,” she noted, moving towards the back entrance. As they got closer, she saw that the cameras were indeed demolished by the shots.

“Don’t suppose you know the interior blueprints as well?” Mando asked at her left shoulder.

“No,” she shook her head. “Those are usually harder to get a hold of. But I have been hired by many men like Kraz. They like to keep their personal offices in the back of buildings, it makes them feel safer for some reason. See that window?”

She gestured directly above them, where the largest window on the back facade sat. It was also the only window inset with what appeared to be rare minerals.

“I agree,” Mando said before she could finish. “That’s a good place to start. After you.”

Ten examined the back entrance, gliding her hand along the smooth edges of the metal. The locking mechanism blinked orange gently, and she recognized an optical scanner. But beneath that … a keyboard override, hidden under an unlocked panel. Perfect.

Taking one of her daggers from her belt, she was able to tear off the cover of the keypad box with her hands. Ten held the dagger up. It was one of her favourites. The handle was nondescript, simple, fitted perfectly to her grip. Its blade was stronger than any other she owned, and she strongly suspected it had been mixed with beskar, though she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she would ask the Mandalorian.

She pried under the edge of the keypad, battling metal on metal, leveraging with all her strength. Finally, as she expected, her metal won, and the bottom edge of the keypad popped off with a satisfying crack. She cut every wire she found lying underneath, one by one until—

The door slid open with a whirr as the orange light went dark.

“Would’ve been faster to shoot it open,” said Mando.

“And set off every alarm they have in this place.” She strode past him into the building. The cement walls echoed her footsteps, but there was no other sound bouncing off them. The overhead lights flickered slowly.

The hallway branched into a T shortly ahead of them, and her and Mando took to a side of the wall. Nodding, they inched over the corner, blasters drawn. Ten found a long corridor on her side, ending in a window. There were no doors. She spoke first, in a low tone.

“All clear here.”

“Here too.”

Relaxing marginally, she turned. The other direction appeared much the same, with another doorless hallway. Ten shrugged.

“Your choice is as good as mine.”

Mando wordlessly started down the hall to the right. She followed, pulling her hood over her head as she did. She ran her hand lightly along the wall. It was cold to the touch. She tightened her grip on her blaster.

A stairway emerged at the end of the hallway, and they followed silently. The next level was similar to the first, though featured more hallways going deeper into the building and an occasional linen draped on the wall. Finally, they came to a wide door, inlaid with the same mineral as the exterior window.

It was empty inside. A large wooden desk occupied much of the room, facing towards the ornate window. The sunlight streamed in freely, casting multicoloured shapes over the room. It reflected off Mando’s beskar as he approached the computer terminal on the desk.

“The communications log should give us enough information on whether he’s working with the Empire.” He called up a projected screen, gloved fingers running over the controls. “Should be … here. Most people don’t even restrict access. We can download it to look at on the ship.”

Ten nodded. She moved towards the window. Closer to it, she could see the small bubbles enclosed in the inlays. It felt rough. She wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to touch today, but it felt as if a live wire had been inserted beneath her skin, the smallest of currents lighting her nerves.

“Done,” came Mando’s modulated tone, pulling her attention. “We should go—”

Before he could finish, the latch clicked in the door. They both watched, unable to do anything, as the handle turned and the door opened fully.

A human man stood there, looking down at his holopad at first. Mando raised his blaster slowly. By the time the man looked up, it was directly in front of his face, and his eyes widened as he took the two of them in.

“W-who the hell are you?” he asked shakily. “You shouldn’t be in here, I …”

“We’re going to walk out of here,” Mando said calmly. “There’s no reason to panic. You’re going to stay in this office for five minutes, and then go about your day. Got it?”

The man’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth between them. Ten tried to soften her eyes, to urge him to listen. She wasn’t sure it worked.

Faster than either of them could react, he screamed out, tripping backwards over himself out of the office. Mando fired down into his leg and he collapsed, screaming more, but it was too late, the damage had been done.

As they sprinted out and away from the office, Ten could already hear the sound of boots echoing off the walls. They’d almost reached the stairs when a group of armed security burst out of a hallway in front of them. It was six on two and damn if Ten didn’t like those odds.

Blaster fire broke out almost immediately. Just as quickly, Ten lost track of Mando in the shuffle, but it didn’t matter.

She shot at the two men in front of her, electing for quantity over quality in her aim. She managed to hit one somewhere in the torso and he crumpled to the ground. After a number of other shots she hit the next man in the shoulder, which worked to her advantage. He dropped his blaster with a shout, but stayed on his feet.

Ten pulled two of the small knives from her belt. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she aimed before whipping it forehead. It spun in the air before hitting its mark, buried inside the man’s neck. He sputtered as he fell to his knees, then onto his face.

Spinning around, she saw Mando taking down a fifth officer behind her, two others already on the ground. She counted quickly.

“Where’s the sixth one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mando grunted, dropping the officer to the ground. He raced toward the stairs and she followed.

It appeared they were mostly in the clear, the branch off to the door just ahead of them. Ten led ahead, turning the corner first.

She was met with a blaster pressed to her forehead. It was the sixth officer, her hands shaking as she pressed the barrel harder into the skin.

Ten couldn’t even consciously control her response. It didn’t matter that Mando stood just behind her.

Her hand reached up in front of her, gripping seemingly around nothing, pushing forward. She pulled on the invisible field which was always with her, calling on it. Slowly the barrel of the blaster moved away and so too did the officer, beginning to cough and sputter as her windpipe closed. Ten panted, squeezing tighter and higher, and now the officer was a good three metres in front of her, feet lifting off the ground, eyes rolling into her head. With a grunt, she quickly jerked her arm to the side, sending the officer flying into the wall. The crumpled figure on the ground didn’t move.

“You just …” came Mando’s voice behind her. She turned to look back at him. “You’re a Jedi.”

“We don’t have time for this but let’s get one thing straight. I am not a Jedi.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #din djain #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mywriting

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cthulhuliet · 4 years ago

Text

my high hopes (are getting low)

6.8k words [total 13k words] (part one) (part two) (part three) | AO3 Link | warnings: explict content, homophobia, dubious morality, completely unnecessary religious references, it is all smut so please proceed with that knowledge.

‘Cause my High hopes are getting low because these people are so old The way they think about it all If I tried I would never know

Light Yagami's world view is shifted after a conversation with his father concerning L's sexuality. He takes his plan into action.

Light looked at his watch and the other task force members. It was half past 10, much later than when they typically start work. Light was idly browsing the scanned names from the Death Note on the computer and had enough tabs open to make himself look busy. It doesn’t matter much anyway, he was not planning on getting any work done today. He was biding his time for one of the other members to notice.

“Hey, where is Ryuzaki?” Matsuda frowned, looking around the common area. This garnered everyone else’s attention as they looked around the room as well as at their watches.

“Good point, he is normally the first one down here,”

“Do you think he is still asleep?”

“Even if he actually slept last night he would never be napping for this long,”

Mogi tapped a couple buttons on the computer and footage from L’s room appeared on the large screen. The young detective was holded up in his room, laptop closed in front of him but eyes very much open, just crouching in his chair like he normally does.

Matusda frowned, “He is so weird…” He trailed off shaking his head.

Soichiro adjusted his glasses, looking at the footage in front of him, “We need Ryuzaki to give us the next steps for dealing with the Death Note. Let me call his room,” He dialed the numbers, looking at L, but the phone did not ring on the footage and he did not even move, “It went straight to voicemail…”

Aizawa frowned, “That is odd.”

Light frowned with mock concern and stood up from his chair, “I can go to his room and ask him what is going on,” The detectives all raised their eyebrows, “What? I am the only one who can actually get into the room either way,”

Aizawa and Soichiro looked at one another, the pair seemingly had a mental conversation with one another, but their expression loudly stated what they were thinking; it is as if they were shouting instead of silently nodding, “If that is ok with you, Light,”

“We’ll be watching the room,”

Predictable.

“I figured as much, Father,” Light pulled on the collar of his black turtleneck as he walked up the stairs towards the elevator. He pressed the button to L’s floor and leaned against the wall of the elevator, smirking to himself. He idly checked his watch, counting down the minutes.

Light knocked softly on the door as he opened it, meeting L’s gaze as he opened the door. L scratched the side of his nose as Light pulled off his shoes, the other man looking at him, mirroring the motion.

“Hey, Ryuzaki,” Light crossed the room. He cleared his throat before he attempted to speak again-- his voice somehow went an octave higher than his natural tone, “The task force is waiting for you downstairs. We tried calling the room but it went straight to voicemail,”

L sighed, opening his laptop. He silently tapped on the keyboard for a few moments before closing it. “I apologize, Light, I meant to send out an email today. I decided last night to get rid of the Note and had them shipped off to a secure location to be lab tested. After that, we can go ahead and test some of the rules written in there, but I had a theory about the use of the pages that I wanted some people to look at,”

This was bullshit and Light knew it. The book was with Watari and not being let out of his sight, but it is an easy enough explanation that the Task Force will at least buy it for the time being.

“Oh, ok, that is good news,” Light shifted his feet, standing closer to L’s chair, “So, why are you in here and not downstairs with everyone else?”

L sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I suppose I just wanted some time for myself. I have been a bit depressed recently,”

“Depressed?” Light chuckled artificially, “About what? We are closer than ever to piecing everything together. We have almost solved it,”

Pressing a thumb to his lips, L shook his head, “It just feels as though it will never end. Every time I think it is finished, there are 3 more questions that pop up, disproving my theories. It is frustrating to be so close and yet never reach the end,”

“I suppose it is more accurate to say you’re stressed rather than depressed,”

L shrugged his shoulders, “Why not both?”

Light smirked, taking a seat on the bed, leaning back casually on his palms, “Ryuzaki, have you ever relaxed at any point in your life?”

There was the trigger sentence, and this is where the show begins.

“Light,” L stood up from his chair and leaned against the chair at the opposite where he was sitting, “You know better than anyone the answer to that question,”

Grinning, Light looked up to a corner of the room where there was a camera blinking at him, “Are the cameras turned off?” He looked there and back at L. If he was nervous he didn’t show it, the detective looked as he normally did, but Light did not miss the slight smirk present on his face.

L shrugged, “Think so,” They were not, “Pretty sure Watari turned them off the second you walked in the room,” He did not, “He normally does,” Watari is in on it. Light pushed himself off the bed, slowly stepping closer to L until he was a mere few inches away, “Besides. The task force just got the email I sent them. No one is worried about us,”

Smiling, Light swiftly grabbed the small of his back and pulled L chest to chest with him, “No, they won’t be,” Light muttered quietly, but loudly enough for the mic to pick up on. He cradled the back of his neck and pressed soft open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin there. L’s breath hitched and his hands gravitated to Light’s back, fisting the fabric in his hands, “You are so clever, Ryuzaki,”

Grabbing L’s hand, he pulled him towards the large bed. He manhandled the wiry man until he was lying flat on his back, Light straddling his waist and hands on either side of his head.

Light looked in his eyes for signs of hesitation, or a signal to shut this down, but behind the smoky blackness all he could find was a mixture of enthusiasm and anticipation. Despite this, Light still stood over L, unmoving, as if he was frozen. It had only just now occurred to him that this is the first time that he was going to be acting on his attractions towards another person, the first time another person would see him vulnerable and at their will, the first time he would kiss someone and it would mean something, even if it was all just for the show.

“Well,” L leaned up, whispering in his ear, “What are you waiting for?” He punctuated it with a soft bite on his earlobe, and any of Light anxieties went out the door. Because for a moment, he forgot who he was sharing this part of himself with. The only man in his life-- maybe ever-- who could challenge him, keep him on his toes, excite him in any way. There was never anyone else. There was never any other way.

Light would never be able to tell you who closed the gap, but their kiss was messy. Teeth and tongue and wandering hands, quick and dirty, but with a warm feeling of coming home that neither of them had ever felt before. L tasted of frosting and chocolate and sugar cubes and all the things that Light hated, but the saccharine sweetness of it all was ok, because it all just tasted like L.

Wandering hands made their way up and under L’s shirt, Light running his perfectly trimmed nails down his sides. He couldn’t wait to take off the shirt to see the angry red marks that were created.

Light couldn’t help but make a teasing glance to the camera. A part of him wishes he could be downstairs, witnessing the task force’s reaction to the clean cut school boy defiling the number one detective in the world.

L broke this kiss, panting, but Light did not want to waste a second more and attached himself to his neck again. His hands moved up to softly graze over L’s nipples, causing a gasp and a stifled moan. Light looked up to see him biting his lip, eyes squeezed tight.

“How many times do I have to tell you this, Ryuzaki?” Light sat up, fiddling with the ends of L’s shirt, “Stop biting your lips,”

“Or what?” To which L made a point to wet his lips with his tongue, then biting down on his bottom one again.

Teasing bastard.

Light pressed his hands down in between L’s head, hovering over the other one, “You know what happens when you tease me,”

L smirked, “Oh no,” He then used Light’s weak points to his advantage, hooking a leg over his waist and grabbing on of his wrists, L quickly flipped their positions, the older man now straddling the other, pinning one arm over his head, “I am incredibly scared, Light,”

“That’s not fair,”

“Only because you’re losing,”

“This isn’t a game,”

L smirked, and used his free hand to pull down Light collar, he attached his tongue and teeth to his neck and sucked at the sensitive skin. “Only because you’re losing,” He muttered into his neck before continuing his attack. Light gasped and moaned under the touch, previously struggling under L’s hold, he now gave into it. L pulled his mouth off his throat, and he could just feel the bruise blossoming already.

“You are wearing far too many clothes, my dear,” L sat up, and pulled the turtleneck off of Light, and threw it across the room. He breathed out, staring at the others muscled figure and tanned skin. Slightly flustered, L ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at the camera and put his pinky finger on his ear and dragged it to his lips: a signal to Watari to actually turn off the cameras this time. As much as they wanted to mess with the task force, they both agreed beforehand they don’t want to have footage of their full encounter and, essentially, have their sex tape on file somewhere.

Neither of them stopped to think that it means they could end their little game. L could have gotten up and grabbed Light’s shirt, and waited for long enough to simply exit the room. The message couldn’t have been clearer, and it was all an act anyway.

Or maybe in the back of their minds they realised it was something more. That it wasn’t just an act. That when Light presented this plan-- this ludacris, unholy plan-- that they both agreed a little too quickly, and had a little too much fun with it.

Maybe L and Light realised, but what was another drop in the lake? What really was another line crossed in their morally ambiguous power play? The shades of grey had never burned brighter, and the desire to indulge in their dissolute sin clouded over their minds too thickly for any logic to shine through.

“Light…” L muttered, his hands trailing over his chest and neck, “You…”

“Yes?”

“You look… just heavenly,” L said, simply. Light’s breath hitched at the words and he swallowed down a groan, not wanting the other man to know how his words affected him. L’s mouth latched onto his nipple, softly wetting and licking it while slowly moving his hips against Light’s, feeling the younger man’s growing erection.

“It is no wonder you have such an ego,” L muttered, gently kissed his chest. He made his way up to his neck again, where he bit down hard, Light now moaning unabashedly, “If I looked as though I was sculpted from everything holy, I would believe I was a God as well,”

Light’s hands made his way under L’s shirt, running his fingernails down his back, “Ryuzaki, I-”

“L.”

“L?”

“Please, Light.” He ran his fingers down the side of Light’s face, locking their lips together once more, “Call me L,”

Light nodded, pulling at his shirt, “L, please,” He lifted it up to L’s chest, “I need more,”

L’s tutted, shaking his head, but pulled off his shirt regardless, “You are so impatient,”

Getting back to work, L pulled Light up by his shoulders, both of them now sitting up. He pushed his hips into the younger man, causing him to groan and dig his nails into L’s hips. L attached himself to the juncture of Light’s neck and shoulder, softly sucking more marks into his skin, as if the other man knew Light always dreamed of hiding a lovemark there under his high collared shirts.

L moved against Light at a painstakingly slow pace, the man under him slowly losing his mind at the ministrations. L pulled his mouth off of him and Light took this opportunity to return the favor given to him. He threaded his nimble fingers into L’s messy black hair, reaching for the roots and squeezed tight. L gasped before moaning, and Light was desperate to pull more sounds from the otherwise reserved man. He pressed his lips to L’s neck, biting and sucking, slowly becoming obsessed with the red and purple bruises appearing under the pale skin. It took more time for Light to create each mark than L, the younger of the two idly wondering about the detective’s previous history. That wandering question seemed to matter less and less as his inexperienced mouth was doing something right, L’s grinding and gasps getting more rapid, the pleasure he was experiencing was evident in every sense of the word.

Light was impatient, but L was too. He pressed his hand against Light’s chest, and pushed him back down onto the bed. The blinds from the window allowed sunlight to seep through the cracks in them. Light looked up at the man above him in wonderment and awe. L’s lips were swollen and his cheeks pink and flushed. He already looked thoroughly wrecked: his hair even more wild than normal and his neck and collarbones were blossoming various shades of red and purple. Light never considered himself a devout man, but with the light perfectly streamed into the room to hit L’s face, eyes tinkling, and with the knowledge that behind them held the most intelligent, calculating mind known to mortals, it is no wonder Light finally understood the need to revere a figure higher than yourself. In this moment, Light was not Kira, the bringer of divine justice and God of a new world, Light only wanted to worship L and be completely at his mercy.

L moved off of Light’s legs and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them off in one swift motion. He hooked his leg back over him and palmed Light through his underwear, Light whining loudly at the action. He was rock hard now and leaking precum through the fabric. He gripped the sheets underneath him, too turned on to be embarrassed about his actions.

L cocked his head to the side, “Light, I have to ask,” He moved his hand off of him and leaned closer to the other man’s face, “You concocted this plan, so it didn’t cross my mind to ask. But have you never…” L trailed off, and Light turned his gaze away from him.

“Have you ever, L?”

“That’s not what I asked, Light.”

Biting his lip, Light flushed, only now feeling self conscious. L ran his fingers softly down his cheek, “That is what I thought,” He looked softly into Light eyes, the typical coldness was replaced with warmth and care, “Don’t worry. I will make your first time as beautiful as you are,”

Beautiful…

L kissed Light softly. If their first kiss was all messiness and lust, this one held a certain gentleness and care that one would not expect from the complex, calculating detective and the greatest mass murderer in history. “You don’t have to treat me like glass now that you know,” Light muttered against his lips.

L smirked, kissing the man under him once more before responding, “I said beautiful, not merciful. I fully ended on both of us being thoroughly wrecked by the end of this,” Light groaned at L’s words, his low voice and balanced diction hit certain weak points that Light didn’t know he had. He moved off of Light once again, palming him firmly but tantalizingly slow. Light threw his head back, unabashedly moaning at the contact. L used his free hand to hook a finger under the underwear, his breath hitching in anticipation. They made eye contact and L simply smirked.

“L, stop teasing, I need more,”

L tutted, shaking his head, “And I need more from you than that,”

Light groaned, head clouded with lust, “L, I need more, I need more, give it to me, please ,”

“There we go,” L moved his hand off of Light cock, hooking his fingers under the fabric, “You are so pretty when you beg. I wish you would use your manners more,” Light groaned, and L began pulling, but jerked away and jumped at a frantic and harsh pounding on the door.

The two made worried eye contact followed by angry shouting coming from the door, “Light, you better open this door right this second before I blow it to pieces!”

“I thought he didn’t know what floor we were on,” Light said, looking at L.

He shrugged, “Your father is smarter than we often give him credit for,”

Another loud bang against the wood, followed by more angry shouting, “ Light! I demand an explanation this instant. Your father is telling you to come to the door now, ”

“He’s going to kill me if I answer that door, Ryuzaki,” Light set his jaw, a familiar bubbling rage was boiling in his blood, “What do we do?”

L, who was mostly unbothered the entire time, shrugged, “Don’t worry, it is being taken care of,” The knocks on the door continued for a few seconds longer before abruptly stopping without hesitation or a second word, “Watari and I planned for this.”

Light looked up at the man straddling him, and raised an eyebrow, “What exactly did you do to him?”

“Does it really matter?” Raising an eyebrow, Light crossed his arms. L sighed, “Just a mild sedative. When an unauthorized user attempted to enter the room more than once, there is a moderate shock that knocks you out for a few hours,”

Light ran a hand through his hair, “So my Dad is just, unconscious lying right outside the room?”

“I am sure Watari took him to one of the surrounding rooms, he is a lot stronger than he looks,” L shrugged, idly running his hands up and down Light’s figure, “We can stop if you want,”

Light knew he was playing a dangerous game, and they didn’t need to continue. He knew that even being in the same bed with the man who wanted to put him on death row was crossing every careful boundary his clever mind had built up. But the feeling of L’s soft, chilly hands trailing over his skin was addictive in a way that made his skin feel as though it were burning up. Light didn’t know how he never saw how gorgeous the man above him was before.

“I apologize for the interruption. I am going to continue, unless you tell me otherwise,” L answered for him and locked his lips on the other man’s nipple, grazing it with his teeth slightly before sucking on the bud and licking it with his tongue. Light’s hand found their way up into L’s hair, gently stroking it. He reached out for L’s slack hand, and placed his on top of the detective’s. L hummed, peppering kisses across Light’s toned chest; the very act of their hands on top of one another felt more intimate than anything they had done today.

L gently squeezed his hand before pulling away, fiercely gripping Light’s hips as he sucked a purple mark into the bone. This time, without being interrupted, he pulled down Light’s underwear, throwing it casually across the room.

Light groaned as the cool air hit his exposed cock. L, being the tease he was, gently traced his index nail up and down the inside of Light’s spread legs. His eyes were wide looking at him, now completely naked, and L subconsciously brought his thumb up to his lips, chewing on the nail.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Light tried to sound annoyed but his voice came off as whiny and needy.

L looked unfazed (as unfazed as one can with eyes the size of the moon), still drawing his nail up and down his legs, pointedly ignoring the area that Light really wanted L to give attention to, “I have been to museums before, I know you are not supposed to touch the art,”

Light did his best not to whine at the praise, biting his lip and deeply inhaling. But his body seemed to have other ideas as goosebumps covered his skin and his cock twitched at L’s words.

This time, L reacted and smirked, gently tracing his fingertips over Light’s cock, causing him to whimper, “I should have known,” He stated simply, teasing the tip of his cock with his thumb, smearing pre-cum over the head, “Sheltered genius with a God complex? Of course you are going to have a praise kink,”

“Hey, I- Ah!” Light’s protests were cut off swiftly with a loud moan, L’s diving down and taking the whole of Light’s cock in his mouth with no warning. Light’s groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows, gaping like a fish out of water. He grabbed L’s hair with purpose, tightly fisting the black waves in his hands. L expert hands pumped Light’s cock as he focused on his head, using his tongue in a sinful way that made Light see stars.

“God, L, don’t stop, please,” Light begged, gripping L’s hair with a little more force than necessary. The detective groaned, the vibrations from his throat made Light’s eyes water, feeling so overwhelmed by having someone touch him for the first time. He thanked his lucky stars that he never had a fumbling teenage experience complete with awkwardness and ruined orgasms, but being able to have an older, more experienced man give him the attention he deserves.

Gripping his hair, Light held L in place as he slowly moved his hips into his mouth, exercising an incredible amount of self control, as he just wanted to fuck his tight mouth until he finished-- though another real part of him never wanted this experience to end.

L’s brow was furrowed in concentration as Light sped up his movements, a blush spread across his pale cheeks that mirrored the ones on Light’s flushed face. Spit and precum dribbled out of L’s mouth and onto Light’s thighs. The mess he would typically despise, but looking at L’s thoroughly wrecked expression, he could only describe his viewing experience as divine.

Fighting against the hold on his hair, L came up for breath, stroking Light’s cock at a slower speed. Before Light could ask for a reason or wonder if he had hurt the other man-- “Light, slow down, you want to fuck me at least, right?”

His low voice was gravely and breathless, the statement ringing in his ears like noon on a Sunday. L wasn’t telling him what he wanted, he was instead stating what Light wanted. Of course he wanted to fuck him. He wanted nothing more than to see L’s guard broken down to pieces; to bear hold and witness to the number one detective in the world, panting and moaning in his lap as he can only think about Light’s hands and skin all around him.

“What do you want?” Light asked, hands tracing over the inside of L’s thighs, running his well-manicured nails over the roughness of his jeans. L’s eyes were wide as he met Light’s amber gaze, “Whatever you want, L, I want to give it to you,”

“And what if I wanted you?”

Light sat up, holding himself up with his forearms, “You have already had that for so long,”

L pulled Light in for another kiss, just as bruising but layered with an understanding that neither of them quite knew how to place. L broke the kiss, gasping, “Fuck, I missed you,”

Light hummed, “Disappointed you have to be away from me for a few hours everyday, now?”

Shaking his head, L ran a thumb over Light’s bottom lip, “Don’t go and play stupid now, we both know that is not what I meant,”

It had only been a few days since Light regained his memories, and so much had changed. He felt different, and not just because he was planning the murder of the man who is currently peeling off his own jeans in preparation to take his virginity. Without them, when he was just trying to catch Kira, he felt as though he was missing purpose. Light had the drive to catch Kira, but there was always something missing. No wonder L never fell for his act. He could sense the shift in his behavior. He was Kira again, and he felt alive. And L missed him, the real him. Not just the Light with the good grades and normal people quirks, the Light who everyone hated or worshiped, who’s morals blurred between what is right and what is not. L didn’t want the morally right honors student, he wanted a challenge, he wanted Kira.

A wanton moan pulled Light out of his own head. He looked up and saw L lewdly stretching himself out in front of Light, already 2 fingers deep. Where he got the lube, he would never be sure, but Light’s mouth went dry at the erotic sight.

He moved forward on the bed, settling between L’s legs. He leaned forward to kiss him, and slowly moved L’s hand, replacing his fingers with his own. L moans were muffled by Light’s tongue in his mouth.

Despite not having much experience with this kind of thing, Light was a quick learner, and the continual motions didn’t leave for much variety. He seemed to be doing something right, as L was gasping and whining, sweat-beaded forehead resting on Light’s collarbone. He put more lube on his fingers and slowly inserted 3 fingers, L’s gasping and writhing on his lap.

“Light, try curling your fingers in and up,” L instructed, now using one of his free hands to slowly tease his own cock.

His hand was far beyond aching by that point, but he barely noticed as his senses were being completely overwhelmed by L. The small breaths on his collarbone and how he is softly rubbing the skin above his hipbone with his thumb, it was sensory overload in the best way.

“In and up,” Light repeated.

“Yes, you are doing great, Light, you are so good, so good, oh fuck, ” L moaned louder than he had ever even heard the man speak, and his hand moved off of Light’s hip to his shoulder, needing to steady himself.

“Found it,” Light muttered, now aiming for L’s prostate with every motion. The older man quieted his moans by biting and sucking on Light’s collarbones and neck. Light’s movements became sloppy as the sensitive skin got more attention from L’s expert mouth. Light slowed his movements down, just barely grazing over the prostate, before quickly speeding up his fingers, hitting the spot over and over and over again.

L choked out a sob, and if it weren’t for the subsequent whines that followed he would have been worried he hurt him in someway, “Fuck, you really are good with your hands, Light,”

Light smirked to himself, “Can you believe I was never more popular with the girls?”

“Maybe they all knew,”

“Maybe,”

He pulled L in for another kiss, the man barely being able to concentrate, “Fuck, Light, your hands are just perfect, you’re incredible, God, you really do deserve your massive fucking ego,”

Light groaned at the praise but chuckled as well, “Why is everything you say a slight against me?”

L raised an eyebrow, “Do you not want it to be?” He grabbed Light’s wrist, stilling his motions, and pressed his chest firmly with his hands so he was lying down on his back, “What do you want me to say, Light? Do you want me to tell you how good of a job you’re doing? How you are being such a good boy, treating me so nicely for your first time?” Light bit his lip and shut his eyes. L’s words were hitting him like a freight train, poking and prodding at every one of his weak points, “No, not that. You want to hear that I think you are gorgeous, don’t you?” Eyes widening, Light looked up and L who was smiling. He had him in the palm of his hand, “I am so lucky to be with you. The fact that I get to be with some so beautiful, so smart, so godly... ” He slicked Light’s cock up, slowly stroking him, but the assault of L’s words was so torturous and so painfully good, “I don’t see myself ever wanting to worship anyone other than you, Light Yagami. I don’t believe in absolutes, but I still hope I have damned myself to an entirety of praising you,”

“L…”

L hovered over him, teasing the tip of his cock with his slick entrance, “And I am lucky-- Light I am so fucking lucky-- that I get to be the one to share this with you,” He snuck down lower onto his cock, almost fully seated. Light had tears in his eyes, so overwhelmed with pleasure and praise, he was going to fall apart, “I am so lucky to also be able to devote a part of myself to you too,”

Holding onto Light’s shoulder’s, L began to move slowly, savoring the feeling. Light’s hands made their way their way to his hips, as he sat up. L, however, wasted no time to push him back down, pinning his hands above his head. He gave him a brief kiss before moving to assault his neck, biting and kissing more tender bruises on his skin. Light bit down on his lip, his vision blurring and all the air left his lungs and L continued to ride him.

Light had dreamt of floating before, walking high above everyone else. Enacting justice, using the Death Note, being a divine figure in a new age. If being Kira was floating, then L’s lips on his, his praises dripping over him like nectar, hands all over him, being L’s … There is no other way to describe that then flying. He was high above cloud 9, his stomach turning over from excitement and fear and pleasure. It was all too much and not enough, but Light knew that he never wanted to be rid of this feeling ever again.

“More, L, I need more, fuck you’re so tight, please...” Light pushed against the restraints of L’s hands, and L relented. He lifted himself off of the bed and steady his hands once again on L’s hips. Gripping them tightly, he began fucking into him, slowly but noticeably picking up the pace with every thrust. L whined, the sound coming from him was broken and thoroughly wrecked. He shoved two fingers in his mouth, stifling the noises coming from him to low moans. Light’s eyes flashed red and he grabbed his wrist, tearing the fingers from his mouth, “No. Fuck you. You’re gonna make me hear you, got it?”

L’s eyes flashed with an emotion Light could not place, before smirking playful, “Light sure is demanding,” He looked down at his wrist, a tight lock had been placed on it by Light’s strong hands, “And rough. Hmm… Your Kira percentage has gone up by 5%,”

They knew. They both knew. And unless L was privy to mathematical impossibilities when calculating the likelihood of mass murderers, L was merely saying this to get a rise out of him. And a rise out of him he will.

In a blur of fury and an impressive display of strength, Light lifted L off of his lap and onto his back. Without warning, Light pushed his cock into L’s tight hole, ramming into him roughly, “Oh, has it now, Detective?” Light taunted. He copied L’s same motion from earlier, pressing his wrist’s against the bed and biting L’s neck. “Tell me, do you make a habit of getting fucked by your top murder suspects in a case?”

“I- Fuck … Light…” L bit his lip. Light growled at the action, and used his thumb to pull the lips from his teeth, and shoved his tongue into L’s mouth, wanting to taste the sweetness of him once again.

“Is that why you’re the number one detective in the world, L? Sorry, top 3 detectives in the world. Just let your criminals rail you until you get a confession out of them?”

L shook his head, “No, of course not, y-you’re the exception,”

“Oh, I am the exception?” Light ran his hands through L’s black hair, the man panting heavily at the tantalizingly slow thrusts as well as the indecencies dripping from Light’s mouth, “Or maybe you just like the idea of being at the mercy of Kira , huh?” L eyes widened and he moaned softly, closing his eyes. If praise was Light’s undoing, then degradation was going to be L’s, “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” Light bit his lip, a wicked smile growing on his lips. He sped up his thrusts and teased the tip of L’s cock with his thumb, “I am starting to think that your notions of me being Kira are just wishful thinking. You like the idea of submitting to Kira? Being at his will?” L began babbling incoherently, begging mixed with whines and submissive moans that he did not think was possible from the stoic detective (the same one who held Light in the palm of his hand not a few minutes ago). And when Light’s keen ears picked up “Kira” being among the pleas, something primal in him snapped. He drove his cock as far as he could push it into L’s, stroking his cock and teasing his head, “God, you act like you’re above everyone else, but you’re just like everyone else who worships Kira. Only exception is, I may just revere you back,”

“Light, God, please, don’t stop, please,” Light was sure if he meant to call him God or not, but that small amount of praise went straight to his cock. L was raking his fingernails over his own figure, tiny spasms going throughout his body, he was obviously close and Light was not too far behind.

“I bet he fucking turns you on. Kira. The only mind to match yours, engaging in your cat-and-mouse game, never wanting it to end. Not even caring that he is a mass murderer. No wonder you want me to be him so badly.”

L dragged his nail’s down Light’s back “Please, please, Kira,”

“Don’t mind violating some human rights for Kira’s cock, do you? No, the rules never applied to us did they,” He punctuated his words with two harsh thrusts, making L see stars, “You may have my virginity, but I still have the bigger body count,”

Snapping his hips into L, he groaned and could barely keep himself upright. He was exhausted, his muscles sore, but he was so, so close. Light whined, and grunted, L moaned as Light’s strokes matched his thrusts.

“Fuck, I am so close, Kira,” L sat himself up, and Light adjusted the angle of his trusts, He grabbed a fistful of perfect brown hair and pulled Light in for a bruising kiss. He grabbed his free hand with Light’s lacing their fingers, squeezing almost painfully hard.

Light noticed there were pinpricks of tears in his eyes as they made eye contact. L pressed their foreheads together as his breath became even more ragged and unstable.

“Say my name,”

“What?”

Light gripped his hand even tighter, “When you come, say my name, please, I want to hear it, please,”

L grabbed the back of Light’s neck, gasping and shouting, “Light, Light, Light, fuck, Light,” L gasped and repeated his name like a prayer as he came onto his stomach and Light’s hand. “Don’t stop fucking me Light, I want you to finish,” L told him.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Fuck, L,” L gently pressed a hand to his chest, causing Light to pause his motions briefly. L climbed into his lap, and met his quick thrusts with ease.

“Finish inside me, give me everything you got,”

“L,” The man rode him with everything that he had. Light felt as though he had died and gone to heaven.

“C’mon Light, you are doing so well, so good.” He pulled Light’s hair, gripping his waves tightly. “You’re being such a good boy, making me feel so good,”

“L,”

L muttered into his ear, nipping it slightly, “Everything you do is perfect, just like you,” and Light was a goner. Vision blurring, he came with a cry of L’s name, running his nails down L’s back.

Both of their chests were pounding, their sweaty foreheads pressed against one another. Light looked into L’s eyes, amber meeting smoky grey, and lifted a hand to his cheek, tenderly kissing the man. The kiss was chaste, and quick, but it wasn’t about that. They kissed because they wanted to, both of them.

L pulled himself off of Light, going to the bathroom to wipe both of them down with a damp towel.

“We should shower,” Light suggested, turning to L, one armed draped over him.

“Shower?”

“Yeah,”

“That seems reasonable,” He nodded, though neither of them made an effort to move.

Light traced L’s soft skin with the back of his fingers, moving over his swollen lips with his thumb, “You know I think you’re beautiful too, right?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I just forgot to say it,”

“Too busy calling me a Kira slut, huh?”

“Yeah,” Light laughed weakly at the joke, but there was something else looming in the air between them. A giant question mark hanging between them. They could continue their stalemate forever, but there will always be the other shoe waiting to drop.

“So, the Kira case is almost wrapped up,” L said, after a few minutes of silence, “I have a couple things lined up after this,”

Light nodded tightly, “Do you?”

“Yeah,” L brought his thumb up to his lips, “I have been sitting on this for a while but… I was wonder if you would like to join me,”

Light’s heart stopped at the words, “Join you? And do what?”

L shrugged the best he could, lying face to face with Light on the bed, “Join me. Solve cases. You are free to turn me down,”

Frowning, Light sat up, “Why are you offering? I thought you were perfectly fine being by yourself,”

L joined him sitting on the bed, and faced towards him, “Well, for one, I never really was alone. Watari goes where I go. Two, I thought I would invite because you have, well, kind of burned all your bridges here,” L and Light looked at the door and Soichiro's voice echoed angrily in his head, “Also I figured that we would make a good team. Your deductive skills and critical thinking are far beyond detectives that are double your age. Besides, you have certain… Qualities that I do not have that you could bring to the table, making you an invaluable asset,”

Light’s eyes widened at the implications of what L was suggesting. He searched for signs in L’s expression that this was a trick, another card he pulled just to get him behind bars. But in his eyes, all he found was genuine fondness.

“Can I have some time to think?” Light responded, scratching the side of his arm.

“Of course,” L took his hand in his, “But my offer won’t last forever,”

Light hummed, pressed his forehead against L’s, moving his hands to hold his waist. There were so many issues that needed to be resolved. The Kira case, the wrath of his father and the other task force members, not knowing if this offer was real or just another trick… His high hopes were a bit low. But for now, it is better for Light just to hold L, and keep him pacified.

#lawlight #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #death note fanfiction #dn #my writing #damn I am so nervous to post this #y'all have no idea #ahahahahahaa

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