#we’re all flipping a table but his table flip is the loudest Tumblr posts

[indelicateink]

lmfffffao JESUS CHRIST VARIETY

[mrcleanheichou]

Wolves are (NOT) Scary Chapter 5

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Female human reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: People are being big meanies in this chapter :( and there’s a very short description of ‘medical gore’

Word count: 2,144

Summary: All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Author note: Hi guys! Welcome back to the shit show. This is the quickest I’ve ever followed up after a chapter. I put in work today and yesterday at the local coffee shop. This chapter is brought to you by sugar cookie lattes and Red Bulls with strawberry syrup and cream.

I also just want to say thank you so much for all the love this fic has been getting. You don’t know how much it means to me. I used to write years ago for a different fandom and I stopped because my insecurities about being a bad writer got too loud.

 Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Taglist: @dustyinkpages @thickemadame @moonlitehunter @thedarkwinterrose @momoriki @iistrangers @openup-yourmind @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @lovelyseokjinnie @scuzmunkie @bjoriis

~3 years ago, wolf pov~

“Why did he get to be the dog? That’s not fair!” Jungkook yells pointing at Taehyung still in wolf form laying on his back giving the maknae smug looks. He’d been telling all of them in their minds through the mate bond about how good Y/N’s tummy scratches were.

“She hasn’t met Tae before. Plus knowing you, you’d probably end up humping her leg and scaring her off.”

“That’s not true!” Jungkook shouts in outrage at Yoongi.

Namjoon sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, already getting a headache, “Hyung, stop antagonizing him.”

Yoongi just leans back in his chair chuckling. They pulled all the tables in the dining area together to brain storm what to do. All of their wolves were getting antsy over having one of their mates walking around untied. Although not rare it is unusual to have a human mate in a pack. Let alone a mate show up after years of a pack already being formed so it’s not something they were prepared for.

“I say we just tell her.” Hoseok says, “Rip off the band aid.”

“And have her run off? No way! Absolutely not!” Jin exclaims loudly.

“Well I don’t see you coming up with anything.” Hoseok growls at the oldest wolf, annoyed.

Namjoon was getting increasingly stressed because out of all of them his wolf was freaking out the most constantly telling him he needed to find her. He was getting ready to snap at all of them to be quiet and let him think when the door chime went off. He could have sworn he locked the door and flipped the open sign.

“Well hello puppies. Long time no see.” A sickly sweet voice called out causing a whole chorus of growls to be set off. The loudest being from Taehyung still in wolf form. The woman just smiles while the black cat sitting by her legs rubs it’s face with it’s paw unbothered. “Calm down guys I come here with the nicest of intentions.”

“What do you want, Witch.”  Namjoon spits out venomously.

She puts a hand to her chest in mock offense.,“Not on first name basis today? You wound me Joonie.”

Witches and werewolves are on shaky grounds with each other. There is a lot of prejudice towards werewolves  from the magical community due to them being perceived as monstrous brutes that rely solely on pure instinct. Witches were seen as stuck up and obnoxious because of their entitlement.

“You didn’t tell them I met that poor girl you were lying to today?”

“ You let Y/N talk to Yuna?!” Jimin shouted at Taehyung causing him to turn human to defend himself.

“What was I supposed to do? I’m the one who was forced to be a dog!”

“Oh my,” The witch giggled looking at her cat. “If we’re gonna be naked you might as well come out Ryujin.”  A puff of black smoke filled the room and a very naked young woman with two cat ears and a tail appeared where the small feline feline once stood. A red collar with a shiny pink crystal pendant was adorned on her neck.

“Wow Cujo, I didn’t know you were packing that much.” Ryujin purred looking Taehyung up and down. His face turning red he moved to stand behind Jimin’s chair to have some sort of modesty. He of course was naked because he rolled out of bed and transformed before getting dressed for the day. Some of guys were looking away from her, Jungkook especially who was staring at his hands in his lap as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You should get used to it. You’re gonna have a woman among you now.” She said crossing her arms in front of her breasts.

“How do you know about that?” Namjoon questioned earning him an eye roll from the shape shifter.

“You seriously think we can’t see your soul bonds? Guess you can’t expect wolves to know anything. Even about themselves.”

“Now now Ryujinnie, no need to be mean.” Yuna says petting the fluffy black ears on top of her familiar’s head. “We’re not here to cause trouble. I promise. We’re here to help you with your situation.”

Yoongi scoffed and said, “How can we trust anything you say?”

“You can’t!” Yuna laughed cheerfully clasping her hands together, “But you have something that I want so I’m willing to set our differences aside. Think of it as ‘I scratch your back and you scratch mine.’”

Everyone looked at Namjoon to see what he would say. He didn’t trust Yuna as far as he could throw her, but he was curious to know what she had in mind. “Fine, I’ll hear you out. But you need to say what you want first before I consider it.”

“Oh goodie!” Yuna exclaims causing some scowls to be thrown her way. “All I want is for you to make me 200 cupcakes for my sweet Ryujinnie’s birthday party.”

“That’s it?” Jimin asks in disbelief.

“For free and I need them by Friday.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops, “That’s two days away! We’d have to bake and decorate non stop until then!”

“That’ll be expensive, we’d have to close down and use tons of ingredients!” Hoseok said looking at Jin.

“There’s seven of you, you can do it.”

“And what exactly would we get in return?” Namjoon interrupts before anyone else can start shouting.

Yuna smiled, “I happen to know two potion recipes that would help you, one that strengthens the urge to complete bonds and one that makes someone more likely to accept new information.”

“That sounds kinda rapey.” Taehyung frowns.

“No, it’s not like that at all. It doesn’t take choice away it just helps to keep the freak out to a minimum. Love potions are what you’re thinking about. I refuse to do them because they take consent away.” Yuna explains quickly. “You have no idea how many witches come to me thinking I’ll help them with their unrequited love problems. I’ve been hexxed multiple times because people can’t take no for an answer. Poor Ryujin was turned into a dog last year!”

Ryujin shivers in response, “It was the worst week of my life. I dunno how you flea bags live like that.

Namjoon sits quietly for a few minutes weighing out the pros and cons. “How long will it take you to make them?”

“I currently am low or out of everything I need. A lot of stuff isn’t shippable like green skink feet and water deer fang shavings, because they’re very expensive and you can’t count on the post office to not lose your package. So I’ll have to travel to Seoul to the main magical warehouse to get them. After that it’ll take a month for them to ferment and be ready.”

“A month? I thought things like that work as soon as you make them.” Taehyung asks.

“This isn’t Harry Potter,” Ryujin snaps. “Potions need to mature otherwise they don’t work as well.”

“Think of them like a fine wine, they get better with age.” Yuna adds.

Sighing Namjoon got up and offers his hand to Yuna, “Deal.”

Shaking the werewolf’s hand excitedly Yuna pulls a piece of paper from the bag she was carrying. “Here’s the flavors I want, I’ll be here to pick them up at 6:30 pm on friday.”

“And you better have them all ready or I’m neutering that one for ruining my birthday.” Ryujin points at a still very much exposed Taehyung who cups himself at the threat to his manhood.

~Present Day~

“YUNA!” Taehyung bursts through the glass door with enough strength to almost shatter it. “YUNA WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Yah! Why are you yelling?” The witch calls from the back room of the herb shop.

“It’s Jungkook, he’s gone feral! Namjoon is handling him now but when we left he was having trouble. Yoongi got hurt trying to control him. ” You quickly explain.

“God damnit, I told him not to drink too much at a time!” Yuna mutters before guickly striding through the shop grabbing different herbs and shoving them in a glass jar.

“What did you give him?!” Tae shouts while following her around.

“He wanted a natural kind of pre workout so I sold him some ‘Hercules root’ mixed with a tiny amount of wolf’s bane.”

“Wolf’s bane? I thought that was poisonous to werewolves?” You ask.

“Ryujin watch the shop!” Yuna calls out before following you to the truck and getting in. “Not exactly, it just gives more power to a werewolf’s inner wolf. The more you drink at a time the more control you lose. Many weight lifting werewolves use it to help train. I explicitly told him to only drink a shot glass of it once a week!”

“Can you fix him?”

“Yes, now hurry!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive to the campground is normally an hour from town, Tae made it in 20 minutes. The whole ride Yuna was in the backseat muttering words you couldn’t understand over the herbs. A flash of red came from her hands that turned them into a thick black liquid.

Pulling up you could see that thankfully they got Jungkook back under control, this time four of the guys had him pinned. He was still thrashing and roaring like a wild animal, snapping his jaws trying to bite Namjoon. Yuna jumped out of the truck and ran telling everyone to get off him. As soon as Jungkook got loose he lunged at Yuna who didn’t even flinch. When he got a few feet away from her she raised her hand to him yelling “Down!”

Chains raised up out of the ground and caught him forcing him to the ground. He was snarling and trying to get up but failed miserably, it seemed that the more he struggled the tighter the chains wrapped around him. The witch then snapped her fingers and the liquid in the jar came out of the jar and forced itself into Jungkook’s mouth and down his throat. Immediately the transformation light flashed over him.

Yuna made the chains disappear and a very confused Jungkook sat up and looked around at the aftermath. All of his pack members except for Yoongi were in human form and clearly had bruises and cuts. He could then see Yoongi in the background laying on his side shivering.

He was in a daze until Yuna slapped him across the face and made him look at her. “You idiot! I told you not to drink more than a little bit at a time!”

“I just wanted to see if it would work better if there was more.” Jungkook muttered starting to tear up while looking at the ground.

“What did he drink?” Namjoon asked.

“A special concoction for exercising that contains wolf’s bane.”

“YOU GAVE HIM WOLF’S BANE?!” Jimin roared storming towards Yuna before Jin held him back.

Yuna sighed and explains “It’s perfectly safe in small doses. I gave him specific instructions. It’s not my fault he didn’t listen.”

“You almost killed us you fucking meathead!” Jimin spits at Jungkook who was hiding his face in shame.

You looked around and no one was moving to comfort him. You start towards him when Namjoon calls your name in his ‘Alpha’s voice’ telling you to leave him. Giving him a defiant look you ignore his order and kneel down to hug your mate who buries his head in your shoulder, sobbing.

Yuna walks away from you two and kneels over Hoseok and Yoongi, whispering incantations while running her hands over his wounds. The crack of his broken bone moving back into place was loud and made everyone flinch. Soon he was back to normal, even his ripped ear was fixed.

“He’s gonna be sore for a few days, make sure he takes it easy.” Yuna tells Hoseok who nods at her before looking back at his passed out mate. She turns back and looks at the rest of the pack who were giving the youngest wolf death glares. “Please don’t be too hard on him. It was a mistake.”

She looks at Taehyung, “Lets get back to town. I’ll be taking Y/N and Jungkook with me. I need to monitor him for the next 24 hours.”

The alpha wolf just nods as he watches you and Taehyung help Jungkook up and into the backseat of the truck.

When you jump in you go to buckle his seat belt but he moves and lays his head in your lap sobbing and saying “I’m sorry” over and over again. You make quiet shushing sounds and run your hand through his hair trying to calm him down. You catch Taehyung’s gaze in the rearview mirror before he starts the engine. The hour long trip felt like it lasted a lifetime.

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 3

parts: 1 2

Chris closes in on your location and he prays to see that you’re alive and well. However, you’re on the opposite side of the secluded village and come face to face with the big honcho herself, plus some of her troublesome “children”. (chris redfield x f!reader)

                                                    ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

Chris's heart pounded in his chest as the squad’s van got closer and closer to the blip on the laptop’s map. He hoped that you would be okay - maybe staying in a home or met a friendly local... Your smile was all he could picture when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in to calm down. However, when he opened them, the van veered off away from the main road where the rinky-dink cottages were scattered about and headed into the woods. “Where are you going?” he asked as he leaned into the cab. Night Howl was behind the wheel, “Following the ping, sir.” Chris swallowed hard, if you were alone in these dark woods -- something could’ve went wrong.

The vehicle bounced around on the uneven ground and Chris held on to the back of the seat to keep himself upright. His eyes never moved from the windshield and his keen senses were on alert for any sign of you. Lobo spoke up just as the ping reached its loudest pitch, “Says we’re here.” Chris opened the door with one quick yank and he jumped out of the van. He pulled out his flashlight and his gun from his belt as he observed his surroundings. The area was as quiet as death and there were no signs that you even there. Chris walked around the area for quite sometime as his team watched him from within the vehicle, they exchanged brief words in regard to if they should help or stop him. But decided to let him do this unless he was met with danger.

His desperation reached an all time high and he started to shout your name into the dark. “[Y/N]!” Chris continued to walk and shout until his boot kicked something that was laying on the road. He kneeled down and shined his flashlight at the item that caught his attention. Chris picked it up and realized that the crumbled pile in his palm was once a cell phone. Technology seemed to stay at a standstill in this area and was mostly untouched by the outside world -- so why was there a cellphone here? The only explanation was that it was your phone. His tired faced drained itself of color and his heartbeat quickened to an unmeasurable rate. He was silent but his mind was loud. If anything were to happen to you, he would tear this entire place apart and tear through anyone just to get to you. His fist closed around the broken phone and crushed it more. As he came to a stand, he breathed out through his nostrils loudly and let the plastic crumble from his fingers.

Lobo stepped out from the van to approach Chris with concern, “Everything alright, Alpha?” Redfield’s eyes were fixated on the trees before him and he was silent - not even a twinge in his face, he was blank. “They took her,” he finally spoke after an awkward amount of silence. His head turned toward Lobo, “I’m gonna get her back.” Lobo nodded, “But Alpha, don’t forget about the main objective... with Winters.” Chris grit his teeth before he barked, “YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW THAT?!” He instantly felt regret and apologized for his outburst. His team was completely faithful to the man and followed him to the ends of the Earth. But, he was scared to lose anyone else... he’s lost too much already and if he lost you... he was unsure if he could handle that. Lobo patted his shoulder a couple times, “Don’t worry, Alpha. We got your back and we’ll find [Y/N].”

                                                    ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

The Duke listened to your story intently and when you finished, he erupted in laughter. Your face crinkled in surprise at his reaction, “Did I say something -- funny?” you ask, offended. The Duke continued to chuckle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “If you’re going to tell me a tale, my lady, at least make it believable.” You scoff and thought briefly about how good you thought your story was but -- it didn’t fool this large man that sat before you. “Now, why don’t we start again, American?” The jig was up and you might as well just tell the truth. “How could you tell?” you ask and he chuckled once more. “Gypsies haven’t been around this area for nearly fifty years! And also, you lack of an accent from the area you claim to be from... it is rather funny, if you ask me!”

Your ego felt somewhat hurt by this stranger but that was besides the point. If he could easily see through your ruse, then maybe so would Miranda... “So...” you start to say before the wagon got slammed into from the side. You tumble around inside the cart as it flipped several times before it landed upside down. The Duke had been separated from you as the back part of the wagon broke free from the front part he was in, and the horse carried him away to safety but left you behind

.

You groan loudly as you roll to your side and try to push yourself up but couldn’t because of an excruciating pain in your leg. It is hard to focus because of the trauma that your head had taken from the crash plus the trip down the hill earlier. Once your vision cleared, you could see a rather large piece of wood protruding from your upper thigh. “Shit!” you curse as your shaky hands hesitated to pull it out. But it was too painful to even touch and your training kicked in, if you took it out, you would more than likely bleed out due to where it was located and you were far from help.

Loud noises shuffled around from outside of the wagon and you began to panic. Your hands shuffled through the broken pieces of wood that were scattered around in an attempt to find your pistol. The curtain at the back of the wagon lifted slowly just as you found your weapon, and you proceeded to shoot a warning shot. The curtain dropped and it was silent for a moment but your aim was still up. Suddenly, a large, black root slinked up under the curtain and yanked you out from your cover. You screamed loudly and desperately tried to aim for something to shoot at but you found yourself being held upside down. Stupidly, you emptied your clip into the air as you hoped it would hit the root. 

✧.*

A woman stepped out from the shadows to slap your pistol out of your hand and you instantly recognized her face once she stepped into the moonlight. Her blonde hair and attractive features... they-they matched Mother Miranda! It was Miranda! Shit. Now you were deep in it... You followed the root that had a tight grip around your ankle up to the hem of her dress. It was apparent that she had abilities similar to that of the mold and BOWs, even better. “There was word of a rat in our nest,” she hissed, her voice feminine and powerful. Miranda’s stare was cold as she walked closer to you; her face closes in on yours and you could feel her warm breath on your sweat stained skin. “And the snakes don’t care much for rats. American agent rats to be exact.”

The root lifted you higher into the air and you were dangled above her head. Miranda looked up to you, “I think I will let the others help me decide what to do with you.” she smiled before the root slammed you down into the ground and your vision faded black.

Miranda lifted you from the ground and held your unconscious body in her arms. Black feathers spread from her back and wrapped around the two of you, then disappeared in a swirl of black.

✧.*

An unknown amount of time passed before you came to. The sound of a few people talking caused you to stir, their loud voices rang in your ear and irritated the horrible headache you had. “I say we strip her down, cover her in honey, and throw her to the rats! A rat for a rat!” a man’s voice boomed with excitement and it was the first sentence you could make out while coming to. “Let me have her! She’ll be turned into the finest of wine!” a woman’s voice that was not Miranda’s yelled over the man’s.

When your eyes opened fully, three faces turned toward you. “Well, well, good morning, sleepy head!” the male grinned and lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at you. A dark haired woman across from him stood from her chair and her insane height towered over you, “She looks healthy and plump enough to craft an excellent bottle.” The man stood from his chair and pushed her a bit, “You always want to turn the women into wine. Boring!” 

The two of them began to bicker back and forth for several minutes until one of Miranda’s roots grabbed hold of your throat and reeled you in. “You two can fight over the child’s father. She - she will be mine to toy with, I’ve made up my mind,” the leader smiled a menacing grin which caused your blood to run cold. Inside you hoped that Chris would punch  through the door and save you from your predicament, but that chance was slim to none. “Begone my children, I have work to do.” They obeyed her wishes and left.

  ✧.*

She wrapped her wings around you once again and kept you restrained while she forced you into her laboratory that was beneath the village’s grounds. “I could kill you but that would be a waste.” she spoke as she strapped you to a table in the middle of the room. You wiggled violently as you tried to free yourself from your imprisonment but cried in pain at the open wound in your leg. “A strong American agent like yourself could be an interesting addition to our family... think of it as an eye for an eye.” she walked away to a shelf and reached for a large glass jar which had a sort of creature inside. “You’ll be the first outsider to receive a Cadou implant. And I am oh so curious to see how you adapt...” She reached into the jar, pulled out the pulsating parasite, and slowly approached you. 

Screams escaped your mouth as you thrashed around in another attempt to break loose but your restraints were so tight that they dug into your flesh. Miranda pushed your head down with force and pressed her palm into your forehead. The “Cadou” writhed around and long tentacles sprouted from within its fleshy mass and grabbed onto either side of your chest . Your last breath was a shriek of terror as it attached itself to your body and burrowed into your torso.

[jesswritesthat]

hellooo can i request smth w nishinoya please 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 so he meets y/n in the park bc shes tryna learn how to skateboard for the first time and he sees her fall and is like OMGKDKSKSK ARE U OKAY (she is, she was wearing knee pads and shit) anyways so they become friends and hang out and then start dating and NOBODY on the team believes noya bagged a cutie bc she’s super smart and studious but she’s lowkey so chaotic and loves trying new things (hence her new years resolution to learn to skateboard am i basing this off me you’ll never know) and she’s always dragging him out to new places in miyagi, maybe they even catch trains to tokyo and stuff omg ANYWAYS she goes to another school but noya and tanaka have exams soon and noya’s like “my gf is super smart!! and organized! she’ll help!!!) and they acc meet her there and she’s super friendly and cracks jokes so noya and tanaka are like “this will be a BREEZE” but she does NOT fuck around w school so she flips a switch like “how do you NOT have a schedule for your exams??? omg how do you keep organized??” tanaka and noya: “👀👁👁 we don’t,,,” and she won’t slack off w noya just bc they’re dating KFKSKSKS. bonus points if she has a notion account bc i’m obsessed w organizing everything in my life w mine, it’s acc an issue. ofc no pressure bc this is SUPER long, headcannons or drabble is all up to you babes!! ❤️

A/N: Omgggg yes! I freaking love Nishinoya, this is a cute request I’m loving it. I hope your skateboarding is going well and OH WOW I wish I could be as organised as you. Gifted anon.

>>>>——————————>

Meeting and Studying with Nishinoya Yū Headcanons:

• Resolutions. This was it, you were going to stick to this one. Hence why you warily balanced on a skateboard about to plummet to your doom - it'll be fine...

• Until your board went scuttling across the pavement leaving you in it's dust, with no intention of returning, much to your aggravation.

"WOAH ARE YOU OKAY?! ARE YOU HURT - THAT WAS A TRIP AND A HALF! A-" It was probably the loudest voice you'd heard, with a blonde tuff hovering over you in seconds.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, please calm down!"

• With an apologetical smile, the boy pulled you to your feet, introducing himself as Nishinoya Yū. A contrastingly shyer tone than that previously, including the heat rising on his features.

"Sorry, I saw you fly and panicked, then I actually saw you and..."

"And...?" You parroted, brushing yourself and kneepads off with a lazy smile.

"And I thought you seemed nice, can't have a nice person getting hurt, right?"

• Now you’ve actually met, you start noticing each other a lot more since he trains on the court near the skatepark. Nishinoya will offer a greeting or wave as he passes, not being brave enough to imitate conversation yet but you both work up to that.

• Eventually you meet up after you’ve finished skateboarding and Volleyball respectively, or assist the other in their independent practices once you grow comfortable. He’ll hold you to balance on the board, in return you throw balls for him to receive/dig.

�� The sparks of romantic connection are there and soon your hangouts begin to mirror dates, just without the classification. You’ll do things outside of the park, like getting food or venturing to some cool place one of you had heard of.

• It's an adventure everyday with him, you were known to explore the streets of Miyagi - you'd found all of the skateparks, dropped into Ukais' store every so often much to his 'annoyance' and even got yourselves train passes.

• His team honestly do not believe him, even if the lovestruck grin he wears whenever he speaks of you is eerily convincing.

Asahi give him the benefit of the doubt, hence why he and Tanaka are the first to see a picture of you. Hinata also trusts in his Senpai, and Ukai begrudgingly confirms your existence having met you.

• Ōsaka? Been there. Yokohama? The dock has an amazing view. Tokyo? Some of the best Cafés in Japan. You could tell he had a sense of adventure, and you doubted Japan would keep him for long.

• It wasn't unusual for Nishinoya to come in with weird snacks or mementos for the team.

"Eh? Noya, where'd you get this?" Tanaka questions his bright friend, the item foreign of Miyagi garnering his attention.

"(Y/n) and I went to Tokyo the other day!"

"Without me?!" It seems you had a self-proclaimed Third Wheel™ on your hands now. You didn’t mind, his friends were pretty amazing.

• They first properly hear/met you when Karasuno are planning for exams, and Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kageyama and Hinata are the main concerns due their lack of academic prowess - Noya is a sparkling ray of sunshine though.

"We got this Ryuu! My partner is super smart, and can help us study!"

"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you met (Y/n)?"

• Nishinoya calls you in the midst of chaos, voice all too happy to hear yours with the echoes of Karasuno muttering greeting in the background.

"Hey gorgeous! Think you could help Tanaka and I study? I'll buy your favourite foods as a thank you!"

"Yeah, it'll be useful for me too."

"(Y/N)-CHAN SAID YES!"

An array of cheers swarmed the phone causing you to wince, it's not like you were getting married but clearly the grades of these two were a problem.

• Nevertheless, the pair rocked up to your house with more snacks than study material - a twitch of your eye sent to them in disbelief. It only gets worse when you set up and ask about their preparations.

• "You... you don't have an exam schedule?"

"Nope~" They're far to gleeful about it and it's setting you on edge, honestly your heart is spasming at how uncoordinated they are. With no worries about it.

"Then how do you stay organised?"

A moment of silence passes, the two noting the pensive shift in atmosphere and meet your unnerved gaze with blank stares.

"...We don't...?"

.

.

.

• The slam of your head hitting the desk made them jump, a pained groan escaping as you took a much needed deep breath. This is gonna be tough.

• Nishinoya is quick-thinking, so he innocently leans in to kiss you as a distraction and a reward once you get on with the study session. Only, you whip out of the way so fast, the boy nearly face-plants the floor.

"(Y-y/n)?! What the heck was that for?" He’s pouting at you, puppy eyes sent your way as he catches himself whilst you simply sigh.

"No kisses until we're done studying."

"None? Like at all?! How am I gonna survive?"

"HAHA you got rejected SO HARD!" Tanakas laughter echoes around the room, the Spikers hand slapping your table in amusement.

"I don't recall you finishing your page either Tanaka-san." An expectant brow is raised his direction, a quick awkward cough sputtering from him with Nishinoya issuing a subtle smug smirk.

"...no, I'm - uh, I'm doing it..."

• You’ve set them up Notion accounts to keep themselves in check whilst you’re not around because honestly, you lacked the trust they’d do it themselves. They’re grateful though, hence the array of snacks/flowers (and screenshots of their revision) you received.

• Boys ACE their exams and come bombing into you after school thanking you and praising your organisation skills like a shrine. Then Yū catches you off guard with an excited kiss to your lips.

"You owe me~"

Yeah he's kinda right, and how could you deny?

• The whole Volleyball team is apparently really proud. Daichi politely requests if you could help Hinata and Kageyama too - but Yū swoops in promising to spare them. Or keep you to himself. It’s undecided...

• Either way, he’s all too glad to treat you to a trip to Tokyo - having found this cool Cat Café or skatepark online, the choice is yours. It’s his personal way of saying thank you for just being you.

Of course, Tanaka saw one of the pictures you posted and proceeded to text.

[ Without me?! 😫]

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[fandom-puff]

Being Sirius Black’s daughter would include...

Requested by: anon

As usual. Gif creds to the owner:) enjoy !!

Warnings: some swearing

Okay so let’s just imagine that dumbledore didn’t let Sirius rot in Azkaban despite knowing he was innocent all along bc dumbledore is a bit of a dick

And obv Sirius didn’t die bc fuck you JKR the fandom is ours now and we say Sirius is alive

I’ve always headcanonned (It’s a word now) that Sirius’s daughter would be a little bit younger than Harry by a few years and would’ve been raised along side him (James and lily still die in my hc bc plot convenience?)

Your own mother died pretty soon after you were born thanks to the first wizarding war, so sirius ended up with dead best friends, one traitor, a two-and-a-half year old and a newborn all within two years

Yeah he was in way over his head

He didn’t give up though. Your cot was next to his bed, and Harry often waddled in for cuddles in the middle of the night. Sirius was in no position to object, and made sure both infants were settled and sound asleep before he even considered his own sleep

There was a lot of help from Uncle Moony, who Sirius and his girlfriend (your mum) had named as your godfather

‘Calm down, Sirius, she’s just got wind. Here, like this’ he puts the tea towel over sirius’s shoulder and teaches him how to wind you properly. “There we go. Always remember the tea towel or you’ll end up with a back covered in vomit”

Teamwork makes the dreamwork really

As you and Harry grow up, there are LOTS of pictures taken, and Remus and Sirius quickly fill multiple scrapbooks with all of your adventures.

Harry starts to show signs of magic when he turns 4. He somehow managed to change the colour of your teddy. Your magic showed itself moments after when you indignantly turned it back

You cried when Harry got his hogwarts letter and left for school that September. “Promise you’ll write?” You had said, and he did promise

A few days later, Hedwig comes to the window with a letter. You tear it open and let her have some of your toast as you read it.

“Dad! Moony! Harry’s a Gryffindor!” You announced and they both cheered. You carried on reading. “Hey... who’s professor Snape? Harry said he’s the worst...”

Sirius roared with laughter, but remus frowned. “We went to school with Severus,” remus said slowly, fixing Sirius with a pointed glare. “We didn’t get on. We’re grown ups now, though,”

The last bit was DEFINITELY aimed at Sirius.

You’re thrilled when you get your hogwarts letter- the owl also had a letter for remus, requesting he teach Defense

It takes some convincing, but he eventually agrees to it, replying to dumbledore as Sirius takes you to Diagon Alley.

You get an ice cream from Florean Fortescue, but Sirius notices you’re a little quieter

“What’s wrong, love?” He asks gently

“Dad... you know how you, uncle Moony and Harry are all in gryffindor?”

He reaches across the table and squeezes your hand. “If you get put in gryffindor, we’ll be proud of you. And if you get put in any of the others, we’ll still be proud of you, alright love?”

“Even Slytherin?” You whisper, because you’ve heard all about Sirius’s blood-supremacist family and the slytherin reputation after reading Harry’s school books back to front (and some of remus’s)

Sirius looks at you with the SOFTEST eyes imaginable, and smiles. “Even slytherin. Because I know you’ve got it in you to be nothing like my lot,” he says, and you’re soon reassured.

During your first year, remus keeps a close eye on both you and harry- there are MANY floo calls and owls in the first term

You soon become a force to be reckoned with, truly Sirius Black’s daughter

You and Harry rat one another out to Sirius and Remus, and it’s often a game of who can get there first, especially if you’re both in the wrong

Around your fifth year, boys (or girls) start making their way into the scene

What starts off with innocent dates in Hogsmeade soon turns into you getting caught snogging someone two years above you in Snape’s classroom

You earn yourself a month of detention

Is your father angry?

Is he SHITE

You get a howler the next day (bc Harry AND Remus can’t KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT and love the gossip)

‘YN MY GIRL WELL DONE A MONTHS DETENTION IN ONE SITTING? I’M SO BLOODY PROUD OF YOU MY GIRL, MOONY SAID HE’S NEVER SEEN SNAPE LOOK MORE CONSTIPATED IN HIS LIFE!’

There’s a little lull of silence before the howler starts up again ‘WAIT YOU WERE CAUGHT W I T H SOMEONE? WHO WAS IT? I BET IT WAS THAT DONNOVAN KID! YOU WAIT, MADAM, AND YOU, DONNOVAN, KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF! THAT GOES TO ALL YOU LITTLE BASTARDS LOOKING AT MY DAUGHTER!’

The howler explodes and you cover your face

Harry laughs the loudest

You flip him off across the great hall/table

And get an extra detention for it too

It’s worth it though

Because Remus snorted pumpkin juice everywhere and Snape’s eyes practically bulged from his face

You totally introduce ‘Donnovan’ to Sirius the next hogsmeade weekend

Be on my tag list :)

Tag list: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @kashishwrites @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (7)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader(neutral)

Warning: cussing, some school taunting/bulling?(very brief and not anything super bad, like under the cut), ABBA mania/silliness

Authors Note: For best experience I have linked the song in the song title so you can listen while you read. I wrote this in a haze of excitement, it is just so silly but I have no trouble believing the Marauders would completely embarrass themselves like this for someone they love.  Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.2k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

                                                    Part Seven

                                       ****Take A Chance On Me****

The great hall was silent, I had to actively keep my eyes off of the boys just a couple seats down.  Lily was trying her hardest not to stare with longing and regret too.  I placed my hand within hers and squeezed as if to say I’m here for you, and though it isn’t my fault, I’m sorry.  She squeezed my hand back, returning the sentiments, and bounced back with a smile, pretending to be happier than she was.  I wanted to roll my eyes at her change of mood but instead I appreciate the attempt to brighten the morning.  You can always count on Lily Evans to empathize and surprise in every situation.

We heard it before we saw it.  Loud, pulsing sound.  As it got closer I couldn’t help the gasp that fell embarrassingly loud from my mouth.  It was one of our favorite muggle bands, Abba, their song was blasting through corridors Take a Chance on Me, but there was no lyrics yet, just the background music as if waiting for the performers. Just like it had countless times before on karaoke nights with the marauders.

Suddenly, the great hall doors were slammed open by two large flying speakers, obviously charmed.  A feeling of knowing washed over me and I whip my head towards the boys. Just in time to watch as they climb onto the table, their faces adorned with a beautiful blue color, Remus in gold. 

Lily sucked in a deep breath beside me while watching James standing tall despite the spouts of laughter. Sirius throws off his robe, it lands on the head of a flabbergasted Gryffindor, Sirius is revealed to be wearing bright blue bell bottom sparkly pants, his white school button up is tucked underneath. 

 Remus was right after him, throwing off his robes and ripping off his shirt.  Buttons flew onto the people around them but no one paid them any mind.  All eyes were on the infamous Marauders, because Remus was now wearing a sparkly blue jumpsuit just like the ones ABBA preform in, with flare pants as to match the rest of the boys  His gold lips sparkled and I had to stop myself from wanting to kiss him senseless. His eyes seemed even brighter under the gold hue of his makeup, he was golden.

 Nothing was more attractive then the confidence and savvy of the boys before us(didn’t help that I had a fat crush on David Bowie and ABBA).  Nothing sweeter than the way they stood and smiled at Lily and I while everyone around us laughed, pointed, whispered and some even smiling themselves.

Sirius picked up a cup by his foot, while James threw off his own robes, wearing an ABBA band shirt Lily bought him ages ago, he was wearing swaying bell bottoms too.  Peter flipped his robe inside out to reveal the other side as bright blue with obviously badly glued on glitter, clusters of glitter fell on the table very time he nervously tapped his foot.  

Remus brought his wand to his lips, as if a microphone and somehow the lanterns around us dimmed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, getting over the shock much faster than everyone else, but whatever he was going to say was cut off as the music started to play from the very beginning and this time the voices of four boys joined in, singing the lyrics.

The lights flashed as James sang first, his voice cracking and in the fleeting light you could see him blush. Lily slapped my arm in shock and excitement. Then light flashes again like lightning, as Sirius joined in, singing much louder, he always said he’d like to be a rock star just once (granted this is much different, but he will no doubt pretend there is no difference at all).  The next light cued in Peter who sang with his eyes closed, his voice shaking with nerves but he new every line.

It wasn’t until the second verse that their voices died down and the lanterns illuminated the great hall completely again as Remus’s voice rang out strong and clear.  His eyes on me. His voice took my breath away, he sounded both awful and yet beautiful.

“If you’re all alone,” he sings, “When the pretty birds have flown,” gasps join in with the music as hundreds of paper doves fly in through the doors, whizzing past me and putting my hair in array, then soaring way over my head, circling up in the ceiling. I could hear Professor McGonagall stifle both her surprise and joy.  Everyone was laughing and cheering, but then silence fell again to listen.  I could not take my eyes off of Remus, who in turn, would not take his eyes off of me.

“Honey, I’m still free, Take a chance on me...” He must have finished his solo part because the boys start to sing along after that and they all begin to strut down the table towards us like a cat walk. Remus stops just short of us and hops, on beat, off of the table.

Peter, James and Sirius walk right towards me. Sirius slitting his eyes and stooping low, pointing at me with one hand as he sings into the cup with the other.  They all stand in front of Lily and I, hips shaking to the beat and James has eyes for Lily only. All the boys sang to us in union.

“If you need me, let me know, gonna be around,” Sirius eye’s turning oddly soft as they sang, “If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down.“

Then they quickly turn towards the crowd again, but I felt it. I felt their hidden apology. For the first time in days I felt some of my anger and sadness slip from me, with every lyric, and every bright, bashful smile.  My anger left me as they sang and embarrassed themselves for the sake of a grand apology.

 Lily started to laugh. She doubled over and tried to hide her smile with a hand but it was just too ridiculous, all of it really was. James did a double-take when he saw this, then he broke out into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, and his voice no longer sounded so shy. I start giggling myself as Sirius jumps off the table like a rock n roller and dances over to Minnie and Dumbledore, their foot tapping did not go unnoticed by him.

James waltz over to Lily and bows low before her, extending his arm, he sings “We can go dancing,” Lily giggled and takes his hand, she surprises everyone and joins in 

“We can go walking,” She sings. James smirks and carries on with a raised brow.

“As long as we’re together...” Then he runs with her past the table, his pants waving and tossing, Lily’s laughing uncontrollably by his side, joining in indefinitely for the song.  Remus’s voice still rang loudest over the boys, my eyes searching for him in the room, I seem to have lost him in the commotion of others jumping up and dancing, and the sweet moment between James and Lily.

Then their voices left the serenade and once more it was just Remus.  He sounded so close to me, I turned around and my heart did a back flip. He was right behind me, smiling sadly as he say...

“When I dream I'm alone with you, it's magic You want me to leave it there Afraid of a love affair But I think you know that I can't let go” Remus sings, everyone falling quite again as the lights dim once more and a single light is glowing above us. It was in the shape of a white butterfly, and a shooting star darting around it.  The great hall grew silent once more.  Dumbledore’s voice was heard quietly singing the song, for the music has died down, Minnie hit him and watched us anxiously.  

She only grew tenser as Remus sang without music, he looked so vulnerable under the soft white glow and under the eyes of everyone in the room.  But above that, he was being vulnerable to me, his voice more of a plead than song. 

“If you change your mind, I'm the first in line Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me If you need me, let me know, gonna be around If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down,” He finished with baited breath, despite his lungs begging for more, he was too focused on what I would do next. I take a deep breath and stop fighting the feelings inside of me. I smile brightly up at him, using my own wand, I bring it up to my lips like a microphone too.

“If you’re all alone, when the pretty birds have flown.  Honey, I’m still free, take a chance on me.” I sing. Remus’s face lights up with bubbling laughter and pure joy.  He takes me in his arms and spins me around, while we embrace the music and lights are back on and everyone in the great hall is singing.  Minnie and Dumbledore included, she is smiling at us.

Remus stops spinning and is just standing before me now, very still, as if he was debating whether this is all a dream or not.  His glittering eyes boring into mine with such strong emotions I felt trapped, utterly entranced. The words of the song rush through me like the wind, he grabbed my hand softly, and led us both on top of the table.

 “Let me tell you now.  My love is strong enough, To last when things get rough, it’s magic.” As he sings those sweet words, magic fireworks erupt above us in little cheesy hearts of red. Students around us are overjoyed, up themselves and twirling around, dancing.  Many gasped and awed at the fireworks, but nothing was more astonishing than what happened next.

                                                       ****

Now, was what happens next petty?  Yes.  Did it land all of the Marauder detention?  Yes.  Did any of us enjoy the scene any less? Not at fucking all...

                                                       ****

All the birds swooped down in a cloud of white, their paper wings rustling against one another.  They moved like the wind, swooping as one to the right side of the room and then drifting swiftly to the left until they got lower and lower.  Until they were right over Lucy Diamond.

I stopped dancing with Remus and stood still, along with most of the students and teachers I was watching the birds.  But Remus was still singling softly into my ear, his voice dripped with mischief, the other boys still sang as well, sounding just as suspicious, but otherwise unbothered.

Then the birds broke formation and with every hit of the drum a bird flew down over the top of Lucy’s head, and very quickly shits something atop her head.  Each one falls softly, it does not hurt her, but upon impact they break open and release the most god awful smell. Lucy can’t stop screaming, she tries to get up and run but the birds follow her out the door.

Stink bomb after stink bomb was dropped atop her head.  The Great Hall was alive with laughter, but perhaps the loudest of all, was my own.  Remus was stilling humming in my ear, highly amused he let himself watch too until Lucy was gone from sight.

“Oh, Remus,” I say, laughing loudly, “That is evil.” He laughs too, looking down at me he shrugs. We look at each other and nod, “She deserves it.” We say in union before laughing again.

But then the music screeched to a halt, silence overtook us in waves and drowned us as Dumbledore stood up, his wand being tucked back into his robes.   

“Mr.Remus Lupin,” he starts slowly, his low voice gathering everyone’s attention, “Mr.Sirius Black.  Mr.James Potter and Mr.Peter Pettigrew.  I assume this is of your doing?” He inquires, though the answer is obvious.  The boys swallow thickly, nodding their heads.  I squeeze Remus’s hand and he shoots me a quick, lopsided smile.  Everyone was feeling a bit uneasy, maybe even guilty.

“mmmh,” He nods, “Thought so.  Though I always appreciate a dance number, the stink bombs are what concern me most.  The four of you will have detention this afternoon, and whatever else Professor McGonagall deems appropriate.” He sits back down, and the student body are unsure of where the look.  At Dumbledore, Minnie, or the boys in trouble.

“Yes, Professor.” They all say at once.  After a while of the stiff silence everyone goes back to their seats.  It wasn’t long before everyone was talking animatedly about what just happened.

“I’ve never seen a thing like it...”One says.

“The makeup’s nice, innit?”

“Yeah, but the pants are god awful.”  “Nonesense, have you ever even seen ABBA?’’

Lily and I find ourselves sitting next to the boys again, stupefied by the whole event.  I felt overjoyed and confused and surely surprised.  I never thought in all my life, I’d be lucky enough to see the Marauders perform ABBA in such attire, at Hogwarts nonetheless.

“So..whatcha’ think?  Think I’ll make a good rock star, huh?  I knew it was for me.” Sirius starts, flaunting his bandana and not bothering to put his robe back on.  

“I didn’t know I had it in me.  Merlin, did ya see me shaking, Remus?” Peter says excitedly.  Remus turns to him with a bright smile, nodding his head.

“All of ya were just great. Peter memorized the footwork better, though.” Remus says, James wacks his arm.

“Did not, I worked hard on that. Lily liked it.  Didn’t cha?” James turns to Lily, who much like me, is still blushing mad.  She can only nod. We were still trying to process our shock, and Remus’s golden lips and glowing eyes weren’t making it any easier for me.  I’m sure the blue on James had the same affect on Lily.

“But..uhm,” Remus clears his throat, looking rather nervous he turns to me now, “What did you think of it?” He fidgets while I looked for my answer, smiling at the mere memory of minutes ago.

“I thought it was...grand!  Shocked me half to death ya did!” I can’t help my voice raising and contorting with my waves of emotions, happy, surprised, impressed and underneath it all, discontent. I lean into Remus, he leans into me, so his ear is close to my mouth, just like when we’d whisper in class. The others talk around us, but we fall into our own world. 

“But I need more than just a song, Remus.  I need answers.  A real conversation, ya know?” I ask, nervous he’ll take it wrong.  His actions proved how much he wanted me back, hell he was willing to tarnish his reputation and mortify himself in front of everyone for me.  I wanted to make it work just as much, so I hoped he understands that for this to work, we need honesty.  He nods eagerly behind me, turning to me with a soft smile.

“I know.  You deserve nothing less than the whole truth.  Because you’re right, I’ve never cheated on you once,” I nod at him, I’ve gathered that much from Sirius and James’s comments, but my heart still felt lighter at the confession, “But I have been lying to you.” My heart sank at his words and I sat in silence, waiting for more.  He took in my reaction and rushes out the rest, as if scared I’ll leave him again. “But I plan on never lying to you again, starting with tonight.  After my detention. And (y/n)... I am so sorry for everything that has happened between us.” The intensity in his eyes glue me in place even as the bell chimes, signifying the end of breakfast.

“Here, take this.” He slips a note into my hand, kissing me on the cheek. “It has everything you need to know for my...full apology.”  He glances uneasily at the staring students and we both turn to the sound of James’s voice calling for Remus.  Remus gives him a thumbs up and turns towards me again.

“I’ve got to go...er change out of this.” He says, shaking his leg as the pants float and toss around his ankles, I throw my head back and laugh.  Taking him in fully, his chest hair poke out from the v-neck and the suit covered the rest of him tightly.  He looked both hot and ridicules.  

“Yes, please do.” I say, but take his hand and twirl him.  He twirls with a blush, doing a little dance with his shoulders as he does.  He stumbles slightly and I steady him, low and behold he was wearing platforms too. I can’t help but laugh once more. “But keep the get up, yeah?  Not too shabby, Mr.Remus Lupin.” I take on the tone of Dumbledore at the end and he laughs.  

“See you in first period?” He asks, anxiety slipping through his voice again.  It was still weird for us to be talking again, yet all too natural.

“Of course not, when have I ever seen you in the class we share together?” He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm, but doesn’t bother to fight his huge smile, the same one that hasn’t left his face since we danced atop the table. 

“I embarrass myself in front of the whole bloody school and ya still have all that sass. Guess we’ll have to fix that later then.” He says, suggestively winking.  I laugh and push him towards the great hall doors, we were some of the few people still there.

“Don’t try and seduce me dressed as Benny Andersson, and especially when I’m still mad at you.  Cause I am still mad at you, ya know?” I say, our moods sobering slightly.  He smiles sadly.

“I know,’ He says, sighing he glances back at boys who are already walking up the stairs, ready to change and beyond waiting with how many people are taking pictures and laughing. “But I will make it up to you, I promise.”  He gives me one last smile before turning around and racing up the stairs.

I smile to myself and shake my head, re-playing the events in my mind and reminding myself to ask for some of those moving pictures of the boys.  I meet up with Lily and together we walk to class, we can’t shut up about what happened. 

 Several times we’ve recounted it to one another and made so many jokes we were crying with laughter by the time we reached class.  She left me by the door, to make her way to her class not too far from mine.  While I waited for Remus and the other boys to walk through the door I pulled out the note Remus gave me and read the contents.

Dear (y/n),

At 8 tonight make your way over to Hagrid’s hut.  He’s always had an abundance of creature around there.  

All my love to you,

Remus

I tucked the note away with curiosity bubbling all throughout me until I had to bounce my leg in an attempt to calm myself down.  I’ve went through far to much emotion in this short morning.  This day will go by slowly I take it.

Suddenly, Minnie walks through the door to personally inform our teacher that Remus, Sirius and James will not be attending this morning.  Part of their punishment requires them elsewhere. I sigh and slump in my chair, a long day indeed. 

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget   @beyondprincess   @1975weasley   @nicodoesntexist  @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain  @yoyoitsbella  @ftwert   @sognatrice-as-a-hobby  @dontjudgemyobsessionpls​  @blackpinkdolan 

@holdenviolet​   @katie-lupin05   @acoustic-archie @trishizzl​   @accio-willtolive-lmao​  @​ilistentotayswifttocope

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Prompt 7 with Marvelous, Keichiiro and Kairi please

7. "What are you doing here?"

Marvelous hates stealth stuff.

A smash and grab, sure, that's fine, that's fun. A heist, one where he maybe gets to do some talking and show off a little, that's exactly his speed. But he's never been good at sneaking around, and he doesn't enjoy it, so when he spots someone else darting through the shadows and around the guards at this middle-of-nowhere museum, he's torn between being irritated at the idea of competition and delighted by the thought that there might be a fight in it.

After a moment's thought he decides to go for the fight, since they're not exactly on a tight time frame, and starts to stalk the smaller figure as they weave deftly through the museum's security systems. This is more fun, almost a game, and he catches up to his opponent in pretty short order and reaches for his pistol, ready for a friendly chat about what they're doing here so late at night.

Before he can do anything, though, there's a rush of air as his opponent vanishes upwards, and then another rush as they drop back down again, knocking him onto his back on the museum floor. "Hi," they say cheerfully, brandishing a ridiculous red gun at him, "don't you know it's rude to sneak around behind people like that?"

For a long moment Marvelous doesn't respond. His opponent is dressed in dark gray, face concealed, but--their gun is familiar. As is their voice. And, he realizes after a moment, their legs. This opponent is straddling his waist pinning him down, and their legs are both very nice and familiar.

It clicks. "Kairi?" he hisses.

A moment of visible consternation even with the hidden face, and then the ridiculous red gun vanishes and Kairi reaches up with one hand to pull the covering off his face, revealing...his red domino mask. "Hey! Marvelous! Wasn't expecting to see you here. Granted I'm a little lost, but is that your Gokai Gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"It's a gun, I'm not actually that thrilled to see you right now and this really isn't a good time for flirting. What the hell are you doing here?"

Kairi snorts. "I'm a phantom thief, flirting on the job is actually part of the brief. You haven't seen a sapphire around here, have you? About so big," with a vague hand gesture indicating very large, "carved into a rose?"

Marvelous ignores the question in favor of, "You know you're in space, right?"

"No, the laser pistols on the guards and the extra moon didn't tip me off at all."

"I'm being serious here."

"Yeah, uh, why?"

A long stare up at him. "It's been too long since the last time we saw each other, somehow I'd forgotten what you're like." Marvelous shifts a bit, tests his range of movement, and then abruptly rolls over, knocking Kairi onto the floor and pinning him. Kairi wiggles his eyebrows, but Marvelous ignores it, because his Mobirate is also buzzing and he pulls it out with a scowl and flips it open. "I have kind of a problem here, what's going on?"

"Oh, you're having a problem," Joe says. He actually sounds delighted, which might be a bad sign. "I'm fighting a guy with a laser sword, you wanna get over here and back me up? He's really good, I think he might be psychic or something."

"Sure thing, I'll bring this rogue LupinRanger I found too."

"You're bringing a what? How did Kairi get here?"

"Why am I not surprised that you know it's Kairi?" Marvelous closes his Mobirate and stands up, hauling Kairi with him. "Sorry," to Kairi, "no big sapphires carved into roses around here, we've cased the place pretty thoroughly. We have something we're trying to get, but unless you've seen plans for a planet-sized battleship around here--"

"You mean this?"

Marvelous stares at the little black card in Kairi's hand, already familiar from how many times he and the others had looked over the documents they'd stolen from the New Zangyack remnants. "How did you get that?"

Kairi grins, the card disappearing back into his jacket. "It looked fun, so I picked it up. I'm thinking of starting my own Collection, I feel like that could be a good time."

"Well. That changes everything." He shakes himself, grinning as a weight lifts from his shoulders. "I am happy to see you, by the way. Come on, let's go help Joe with his psychic laser sword guy."

--

One desperately-fought battle against a psychic laser sword guy later...

Marvelous is so busy making sure Joe didn't actually lose any bits in the fight that he doesn't realize at first that they've got company on the Galleon, and when he does notice, it's because of Kairi saying, aghast, "Kei-chan? What are you doing here? And how?"

"Noël's, uh, ex? That Daiki guy. Said he lost track of you when you were passing through some...other world?" Keiichiro's sitting at the table with Ahim, holding a hand of cards and a lemonade. "So I called Gai, because generally if you wander off somewhere you end up with Marvelous, and he came and picked me up. Ms. Ahim and I have been playing koi koi."

"Am I that predictable?"

"You can't help it, I'm irresistible." Marvelous wraps an arm around Kairi, rests his chin on a convenient shoulder, and cheerfully reaches into Kairi's jacket to retrieve the little black card. "You look good as usual," to Keiichiro, as Kairi swats at his hand.

Keiichiro turns slightly pink. "Thank you. You're looking very, ah, dashing yourself."

Joe, turning around, says, "Marvelous, could you get a grip on your urges for five--wait, what have you got?"

"The stuff you were looking for," Kairi says smugly. "I picked it up for you. Because I'm nice."

"That can't be it, I've got it in my jacket." Joe produces a black card identical to the one Marvelous has.

Keiichiro frowns. "Were you actually stealing something here?"

"Obviously we were stealing something, otherwise those New Zangyack assholes would have gotten it," Luka says as Doc helps her up into the common area, looking slightly scuffed. "Don't know why I keep trying to bring Joe and Marv on stealth missions, you are the loudest--wait, what have you two got there? Dammit, were there three of them?"

"Oh, so it was good stealing."

"All stealing is good stealing when I do it, uh...Kairi's cop boyfriend."

"Keiichiro," Keiichiro says, looking amused.

"Right, Keiichiro. PatRan Ichigou! That was it." Luka squints angrily at the cards that Joe and Marvelous are holding. "I can't believe they split up the plans like that, it's going to make this so much more complicated. Or...maybe easier, I need to think about it."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, dear," Ahim says quietly, setting down her hand of cards.

At her cue, Keiichiro sets down his cards as well. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Kairi and Marvelous gape at him, saying simultaneously, "You want to help with the crime?"

"Well, since I'm already here. I can't just keep Ms. Ahim tied up playing cards all night." Ahim pats him on the hand, and he smiles at her. "And it is for justice."

Marvelous looks thrilled. Kairi looks like he might cry from joy. "Kei-chan's going to help me with crime..."

And Luka's face has lit up. "Ok, no, I can work with this, this is perfect, we'll have this dealt with in no time."

[random-apex-stuff]

Glass and silverware sound throughout the bar. Elliot is in his element, serving drinks, chatting up the customers, and making people laugh. He’s never been the type to remember long words, but when someone orders a drink, it tells him a little bit about them. That little something is how he’s never gotten an order wrong—something he reminds everyone about frequently.

Wraith and Wattson sit at the small round table nursing their drinks and picking at their appetizer. Wraith remembers the first time she ordered an apple-tini from Elliot years ago. The look on his face was priceless, and his stammering and attempt to avoid reacting to the request had actually made her laugh out loud. He used to be afraid of making fun of her, and now, well, he’s less afraid.

“You’re staring,” Wattson playfully nudged.

“Hm? Oh...” Wraith tore her eyes from the bar counter and back to her drink, fidgeting with the straw.

“Can I ask you something?” Wattson asked boldly.

“Sure.”

“I saw an article recently where a reporter said you had three favorite people,” she watched Wraith’s face as she remembered the interview. “Pathfinder, me, and Mirage ‘in no particular order’,” Wattson giggled at her impression of her best friend. “So, my question is... why three people who are so different from you?” Wattson asked smiling. Wraith swirled the straw in her drink thoughtfully.

“I read something a couple weeks ago about my disappearance. My coworkers... they said I was cold and harsh. I see that, I can see myself being that even now and it bothers me. You three... you are bright and wholesome and kind. I guess what I’m saying is, you guys are my favorites because you’re not like me.”

“Zat makes sense,” Wattson nodded knowingly. “Still, it’s funny zat our loudest and quietest legends seem to alvays team up,” she winked.

“He is too loud,” she said quickly. “But... that’s him. He loves it. It makes him happy so who am I to argue—unless we’re in the middle of a fight, that idiot,” she was shaking her head but smiling at the same time. She once again let her eyes follow the cloned performer behind the bar, flipping a bottle before pouring a shot with a smug look on his face. He felt a stare and couldn’t help but make eye contact with her causing an eruption of nervousness and a spilled drink. He was immediately laughing again even as he cleaned up his mess. Wraith smiled and rolled her eyes.

Wattson would leave soon after. Wraith ordered another drink to wait out the last hour of Elliot’s shift. They walked to his car in chilly night air.

“Freedom at last! Also, YOU made me spill a drink. Not cool,” Mirage pointed his finger.

“All I didn’t was look at you.”

“Stare.”

“I thought you liked being the center of attention.”

“Well when the attention is, uh, from some people who are, um, you know, more...you...”

Wraith smiled. “Let’s go home, you idiot.”

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M

Words: 3.5 K (She thick)

Warnings: Kinda Nsfw language, witch shit. idk

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t.

Chapter 3: Trouble on my left, Trouble on my right 

It’s been months since your late night rendezvous with Hotch and ever since the two of you have actually become good friends. 

He would often stop by the shop after work which was typically while you were closing up. You’d brew tea (because Hotch had made the mistake of telling you he was having trouble sleeping) while he helped you out and stacked the chairs on the table so you could sweep later on. You’d sit at the bar talking about your days, sometimes he’d be upset either about a case or just in general and those days you would just talk and he would listen. One day, you’re talking about going to the park with Artie that morning and he stops you. 

“How are you like this?” He asks.

“Like what, Gus?” 

“This…” he says, gesturing to you. “Carefree, naive, happy.” 

“I’m not naive.” You pout. 

Hotch levels you with a look. “Maybe not in some ways. But you really are naive to how the world is sometimes.” 

“I’d say I act the way I do because I’m aware of how the world is. I mean, am I more hyper-aware of serial killers now than I was before I started the shop here, yea. But you know, life is a gift, freedom is a gift, and love is a gift. So everyday I get to exercise those gifts is what makes me happy.” You smile, looking Aaron in his eye. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. You notice his eyes drift to your mouth and back up to your eyes, but you don’t say anything. It still wasn’t the right time.   “I’m free to live how I choose and love how I choose, what’s not to be happy about?”

“A lot.” He says, bluntly turning away from you. You don’t know what took over your but you bring your hand under his chin, turning him so he’s facing you again. You then move your hand to cup the side of his face, thumb stroking his high cheek bone. He seems to lean into your touch. 

“I pray the goddess gifts you something to be happy about.” You say. Hotch, now being used to how you are, doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy. Just looks you in your eyes, intensely, somehow more intense than he’s ever looked at you. 

“I think she has.” 

-------------------------------------

You meet Jack some time after that. Aaron comes into the shop on a weekend day. Artie looks up from her coloring book.   

“Hi, Mr. Aaron!” She says, lisping as she had lost her front teeth a couple of days ago. You look up when she says that to see Aaron approaching the register, a small boy gripping his hand. You immediately smile.    

“Hey, Bean!” He says, as he approaches the register. You can’t help the way your heart swells. You don’t know when exactly Hotch started calling her Bean, everyone typically called her Artemis or Artie, per her request, you were the only one who got to call her Bean. But for some reason when he started also calling her Bean, Artie didn’t stop him.  

“Hey Grumpy.”  You say, softly. “And who is this?” you say, regarding the young boy next to him, squatting slightly so you could be eye level with him. You see Aaron nudge the quiet boy slightly.  

“I’m Jack.” He says, quietly. 

“Hi, Jack,  I’m Y/N.” You smile at him. 

“I like your hair.” He says. 

“You do?” You say, exaggeratingly flipping it, inducing a chuckle from the boy. 

“Yes, Green’s my favorite color.” 

You gasp. “Would you believe it’s mine too?” He smiles, and nods at you. “What can I get you, Jack?” 

He looks over at Aaron, who nods. “Can I have hot chocolate?” 

“You got it, little gus.” You wink before looking up at Aaron. “Usual?” he nods, before helping Jack into the stool next to Artie and sitting next to them. 

Artie looks over to the boy next to her and smiles widely. “Do you want to color? I have green.” She says. The boy silently nods fast and Artie hands him a paper and some of her color pencils. You and Hotch watch them for a second before turning to each other. 

“How’re you today, Aaron?” You ask, drawing on Jack's cup while Aaron’s coffee was brewing. 

“Better that I’m here.” He says, smiling at you. 

You flush. “My stars, Mr. Hotchner. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” 

“And if I am?” 

You clear your throat and turn away from him to focus on the coffee, positive your face was the same hue as a tomato. “So what’re the two of you doing with your day off?” 

“We’re going to the aquarium!” Jack says, excitedly. 

“Woah, the aquarium!” You say, matching his excitement. He nods, fastly. 

“Yea, I figured to stop for coffee along the way.” Aaron says. 

“Can we go to the aquarium, Mama?” Your child pipes, quietly behind you. Your heart breaks a little at her pouting face. 

“I’m sorry, beanie. Mama has to work, maybe we can next week.” You say, softly. She nods but you can tell she's still sad. “The aquarium’s her favorite, sorry.” you say handing Aaron the cups over the counter. 

“I can take her with us if you want. Her and Jack seem to get along and I don’t mind. Only if you’re comfortable with it though.” 

“Really?” You say, he nods. “Would you want to go with Jack and Mr. Aaron to the aquarium?” You ask your daughter who smiles widely nodding. “Ok pack up your backpack first.” She makes quick work stuffing her books and colored pencils in her bag. 

“Thanks again for this. I’ve been working so much we haven’t been able to do anything fun recently.” You say. “Let me give you money for her ticket.” Hotch immediately shakes his head at you. 

“Not necessary.” He says. 

“Let me pay you.” 

“No, plus this can just be repayment for all the free coffee you’ve been giving me.” He says, smiling at you. 

“Ok, but be careful. She’s a little con artist.” 

Aaron just chuckles at you. “You guys ready?” He’s met with loud cheers from the children. He grabs the cup before leading them towards the door. 

“Learn something, Artemis.” You call after your daughter. 

------------------------------------

“Mama!” You hear as you’re sweeping. You weren’t typically closed this early but you wanted to spend the night with your child. 

“Beanie!” You sway as the child comes bounding towards you, you sweep her up into a bear hug. You see Aaron lingering near the front of the shop watching the display. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yes! Did you know the blue whale is the loudest animal in the world?” 

“I did not know that.” You say. “Go thank Mr. Aaron and head upstairs, okay. I’ll be up in a second.” 

Artie nods before running to collide with Hotch’s legs. Hotch let’s out a tiny ‘oof’ before hugging the girl back. “Thank you, Mr. Aaron.” 

“No problem, bean. Goodnight.” He says watching her bound the stairs. 

“We live above the shop.” You explain. He nods. 

“I-uh got you this.” Aaron says, holding a turtle stuffed animal in front of him “Since you couldn’t come with us. Artie said they were your favorite animal.” 

You laugh, taking the plushie from him. “Thank you, Aaron, this is really sweet. But cows are my favorite animal.” You smile and he looks at you confused. “Turtles however… are Artie’s favorite. I told you she was a con artist.” 

You and Aaron laugh for a minute at how your six year old was able to pull one over on an FBI agent. “I’m sure she’ll love this though. How much do I owe you for this?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “Nothing, she got me fair and square.” 

“Aaron, you’ve gotta let me pay you back for some of this.” 

“You could have dinner with me.” He says, bluntly. 

“What?” 

“Have dinner with me.” 

Your brain short circuits for a second. Here was a man you’ve had a thing for quite some time bluntly asking you on a date. “Do I at least get to pay for dinner?” 

“Of course not, is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Aaron.” You say. A wide smile adorns his face. Those were rare and you can’t help the way your heart swoons. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

———————————————-

The following week you are paid a visit by Penelope. 

“Hey Penny, what can I do for you?” You smile. 

“I’m actually here on business but I will take a caramel mocha for my troubles.” 

“You got it.” you say, grabbing a cup. “Now, what business are you here on?” 

“I’m here to invite you to drink with us friday.”  She smiles. “We’re going to O’malley’s and so are you.” 

“Gee, I’d love to Pen, but I’ve got Artie and I’ve got to close up here so I don't know.”

“I’ll do that.” Silena adds in the corner. “I’ll help you close up early and then I’ll sit Artie. When’s the last time you went out?” 

You shrug, it has been a while since you’ve interacted with adults outside of work.” 

“Exactly. So go out with Penny and her friends. I’m assuming Aaron will be there?” Silena asks, Penelope nods excitedly. 

“Oh ok... I see what this is. You’re setting me up when I said not to.” You say throwing a pointed look at them. 

“I would never.” Silena says, incredulously, hand to her heart as if she was going to faint. “I just think you should go have fun. Drink, flirt, be merry. Frankly, I’m sick of seeing you always here.” 

You narrow your eyes still not believing them. “Fine, I’ll go.” 

The day of you and Silena are closing up shop. You finally take off your apron hanging it on the hook in the back of the cafe, blowing a breath. That last rush had kicked your butt and you almost wanted to take a nap but you had to take advantage of the free sitter time. 

“So…” Silena starts as the two of you clean up the baking area. “What’re you going to wear?” 

You look down at your clothes. “Uh… I was thinking of wearing this?” 

“Your work clothes?!” 

“What? It’s a t-shirt and pants. What’s wrong with it?” 

“It’s just so… bleh. God, just because you’re a mom now doesn’t mean you have to dress like one. Your body is still hot as fuck, Y/N! Why not show it?” 

“I don’t know, Sil. I’d just rather be comfortable.” You shrug. 

“Well, you can’t wear that. It has a giant flour stain on the back.” 

“What do you mean? What stai--” You’re cut off by Silena clapping you on the back, hand full of flour. You sputter over her loud laughs. “Silena this is my favorite shirt! And you’re cleaning that!” 

“Relax, dummy, it’ll come off in the wash. And now you’ll have to wear something else.” She smiles, mischievously. “Hey, do you still have that leather skirt from college?”  

“Jesus Sil, It’s a bar, not a frat party.” 

-----------------------------------------------

You checked your hair and makeup again in your rearview mirror. God, you looked and felt like a clown. Silena had dressed you, despite your best wishes. You were wearing an all black two piece type dress. The top was a short sleeve turtleneck crop top that was tight around your chest. The bottom was a high waisted long maxi shirt that had a large slit up the right leg, leaving your thigh and calf exposed. Your tattoos that adorned your arms, thighs and stomach for sure were very exposed as well. You knew for a fact you were overdressed but Sil wouldn’t let you change. 

You very hesitantly walked into the bar, clutching your bag. You look around for a familiar face until you hear your name. 

“Y/N?” You hear Penny saying over the crowd. You turn to look at her and smile walking towards the group. “Oh my god, you look hot! Is this what you look like when you’re not in the shop?” 

“Sometimes.” You smile. “Hi, everyone.” you say acknowledging the group, you're met with small greetings and wide smiles from everyone until your eyes go to Hotch. He doesn’t say anything just looks at you over the beer he’s sipping with a small smirk. You smile at him but he still doesn’t say anything just slowly looks your body up and down with dark eyes. When he meets you back at your eyes, you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’ve never seen that look on him before, complete and utter want. You swallow for a second before sliding in the booth next to Spencer who regards you with that tight smile he sometimes seemed to have. 

“Have you met Derek, Y/N?” Garcia asked, a toned light-skinned man extended a hand towards you at that moment. 

“I’ve met his coffee order but not him.” You say, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the white mocha.” 

“Honestly, when Garcia told me she had a friend who was a witch, you were definitely not what I was expecting.” He says. You don’t miss the obvious way he eyed you up and down but you choose to ignore it. You knew it wasn’t serious. 

“What? You were expecting Baba Yaga?” You ask, inducing a laugh from the group. “Nah, I’m just a glorified rock collector. Now if you all will excuse me, I’m going to get a drink so I can catch up.” 

You slide out the booth and walk up to the bar, probably swaying more than you needed to be. You knew Aaron’s eyes were on you. As you’re waiting for your drink, you notice a drunk man walk up way too close to you. 

“Hey beautiful.” He says, slurring slightly. His breath is a clear indicator he’d been drinking. “It’s just my luck I’ve got you here alone, huh.” 

“I’m good, actually.” You say, turning back to the bartender praying to the goddess he’d hurry up. 

“Don’t be like that sugar, you came out dressed like that for someone. I’m just hoping it was me.” The man says. 

Suddenly, you feel the heavy weight of an arm around your waist. You look up to see Hotch, who is pulling you closer into his side. “It wasn’t.” He says to the man, looking him directly in the eye as if daring him to challenge. 

The guy holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry dude, don’t want any issues.” He says, before walking away. You get your drink shortly after that and Hotch is now standing close in front of you, leaning against the bar. 

“I had that handled.” You say, pouting slightly. 

“I’m sure you did.” He says, sipping his beer. You take that moment to drink your much needed adult drink. “You have more tattoos than I thought.” He says, hand moving up to trace a long one you had on your upper arm. 

You flush. “Oh, yea. Can’t really show them at work. Unprofessional and all.” 

He hums in agreement. “Do they all have meaning?” 

“Some do. Most are just things I found pretty at the time.” 

He nods. “There seems to be a lot I still can’t read about you.” 

“Please, you know plenty. Plus isn’t that your whole job? Reading people?” 

“Yea, but I try not to do that with people I’m close to.” 

You move closer to him, batting your eyes a little so it was obvious you were flirting with him now. “What if I want you to?” You say. “Read me, I mean.” 

He clears his throat, looking back at you. “Then I guess, I could.” He says. You look at him while you sip your drink, waiting. “You’re smarter than you let on, something tells me that your parents were sticklers about school which means you had good enough grades to go to a good school on scholarship. You say you and Silena were roommates all through college but the other day you said 6 years, which leads me to believe you have your master’s degree but you don’t like to tell anyone about that. You’re thinking about going back to complete your doctorate simply because you enjoy learning.” 

You hum. “Hmm, all true. I have my master’s degree in business. But that stuff’s easy to find out. What else do you know?” 

He clears his throat. “You grew up in a strict household, with a distant father and a cold mother who didn’t let you step out of line in anyway. That’s why you are the way you are now. Tattoos, piercings, green hair, wiccan. It’s everything you wanted to do that your parents would never allow, you want to be the complete opposite of what they raised. It’s also why you treat Artemis the way you do, you don’t push your ideals on her because you’re scared you’ll be like your parents in that way.” 

“Booo!” You say, Hotch looks at you shocked. “This is all stuff anyone can gather from seeing me for 10 seconds. You think anyone is looking at an adult woman with green hair like ‘I bet she has a great relationship with her parents’? NO! Come on, Mr. Hotchner, get to the juice!”          

“Alright.” He says, downing his beer before moving closer to you until he’s talking lowly, directly into your ear. “You like older men, always have and specifically men who are stronger than you.” His arm moves back around your waist and you try not to make the gasp that leaves your mouth obvious. “You like someone else to be in control in the bedroom simply because you’re always the one in control in every other aspect of your life. You want someone to be in complete control which is why sometimes, you let them tie you up.” Now he’s impossibly close to you, and you’re grateful that you’re out of the eyeshot of the group so they can’t see how unbelievably turned on you were right now. “You like being called Good girl more than being called a bad one. And while you never could bring yourself to call another man Daddy in the bedroom, you like regarding them with titles like Sir. Am I close?” 

You swallow. “Did you actually know all of that?” 

“Some of it, some were just what I was hoping.” 

“Let’s go outside.” you say, before Hotch is tugging you out the nearest door.

You barely have time to register the cold air of the alley before Hotch has you pinned against the nearest wall. His mouth is on yours instantly and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. Your hands instantly go to his jaw as his arms circle your waist. A gasp falls from your mouth as his lips move along your jaw, sucking a mark into the spot behind your earlobe that had your eyes rolling back. This was a lot and definitely way too fast. It wasn’t until he gripped your waist tighter and you felt a certain something poking at your side that you stopped him before it could go too far. 

“Aaron, stop.” You whisper. He pulls back immediately from you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He says, in that low voice that almost makes you whimper. 

“No! Of course not, it’s just. This is really fast.” You say. “I mean, you haven’t even taken me out yet, I’d at least like dinner if I’m going to be an adult making out in an alley next to a dumpster like a college student.” You laugh, Aaron chuckles slightly moving away from you. 

“You’re right. It is fast, and I still have every intention of taking you out.” He sighs. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, you give him a look. “Not like that, we can go to the shop if you want.” 

“Yea, sure.” 

-------------------------------------

You and Aaron head back to the shop not bothering to tell the group you’d gone. You were positive they had an idea of what was happening anyway. 

The two of you sit at a table instead of the usual bar top tonight, drinking tea. When you’re silent for a moment you notice Aaron staring at you. 

“What?” you say. 

“Nothing, It’s just you look beautiful tonight.” He shrugs. “I guess I should’ve said that before--”

“Shoving your tongue down my throat? Yea maybe.” You tease, smirking at the flush that comes across his face. “But thanks.” 

He then leans across the table to kiss you and you can’t help but lean back but the shop phone rings interrupting you. 

“That’s weird, who would be calling this late?” You say, getting up to answer you might as well, you were here anyway. 

“Hallowed Grounds, Y/N speaking.”  

“You thought you could hide forever didn’t you, dove? Cute shop, though. I know where it is. I know where you are. And you can’t keep me from my kid anymore.” 

The phone slips from your hand cracking on the tiled floor.         

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​ @crimeshowtrash​

[thiswasinevitableid]

this isn't a real mermay prompt, but if the mood strikes you: indulgent supernatural sugar daddy indrid? roleplaying that he's finally reached the limit of his patience for duck's teasing and now he's going to tie him to the bed and use him however he sees fit

Here you go! I riffed on something we discussed on the discord. CW for mentions of stripping, blood and booze, the roleplay could be read as dubcon but it's clear what they're doing and that everyone is consenting and enjoying themselves. After care is show.

“Damn, guess they ain’t kiddin when they say it’s the city that never sleeps.” Duck stares from the window of their suite onto the flashing neon and 11 pm traffic of the Las Vegas strip.

“I thought that was New York City?” Indrid looks up from where he’s laying their dinner out on the shiny black table.

“Maybe? I dunno, only ever been there once, on a trip with my folks as a kid.” Duck slides into his chair across from his grinning boyfriend. They picked up a massive spread of food earlier tonight, their friend Barclay having lots of intel on the best food in the city and the affection for them to write out a detailed list where to try.

Indrid grabs a pill from his bag on the bathroom counter, then settles across from Duck with an excited grin, “There, now I can dine without fear.”

They’re well into dessert when Indrid wipes his lips with a thoughtful hum.

“You know, sweet one, this never silent, ever bright environment lends itself well to certain activities.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck leans across the table to take his hand.

“I have more details that we can discuss while we digest, but to begin; how do you feel about dressing like the loudest man on a college campus for the night?”

---------------------------------------

Duck strides into the main floor of the Wynn, the industrial strength air conditioner practically sending him into shock after the heat of the pavement and desert air.

En route to the agreed upon Blackjack table, he makes eye contact with his reflection in a bank of windows. Only the flip flops were in his suitcase when they arrived; the mint green muscle tank and khaki shorts came from the nearest thrift store. He picked up special underwear once he and Indrid separated, suspecting it will make his boyfriend laugh. He loves making him laugh, even during their most intense scenes.

He gets his chips, his seat, and his hand within ten minutes, signaling a waiter for a screwdriver. God only knows why, but it feels like what this kind of guy would order on a Saturday afternoon. Duck’s decent at Blackjack; Juno taught him how to play and Ned helped him refine his technique. So he’s holding his own when a new player sits down two stools to his right.

“I intend to play the eccentric millionaire.”

When Indrid uttered that sentence, Duck pictured a slight variation on his usual evening wear; the suit he brings on trips just so he can take Duck out for nice meals without--as happened on one occasion-- being forced to borrow a jacket from a waiter.

He was not expecting this.

Indrid’s suit is jet black, blood-red lining flashing when he unbuttons his coat. His usual red glasses perch on his nose, and he’s done something to his hair that renders it sleek rather than it’s usual silvery tangle. His back is straight, his smile wide, and his manners pure perfection.

“May I join on the next hand?”

“One sparkling water please. Do add on a nice tip for yourself, won’t you?”

“Twenty! Oh, how delightful.”

Indrid wins more than he loses, careful to go over or come too far under enough times to avoid accusations of counting cards. Duck’s stack of chips dwindles, and he directs his frustration at this fact towards Indrid, muttering unkind things whenever the older man says, “hit me.”

When he’s down to thirty bucks, he taps out. Pushes back from the table with the huff of a man who’s used to getting what he wants. He finds the nearest bar and takes a small table for himself.

The chair across from him doesn’t stay vacant long.

“Hello.” Indrid folds his hands on the table, smiling pleasantly.

“What the fuck do you want?” Duck grumbles.

“To see if you were alright. You seemed rather upset when you left the table.”

“Ain’t upset, I’m fuckin broke. Came to vegas to get laid and get rich and I’m strikin out on both so far.”

“Perhaps I can help. I, ah, we are both here alone. Why don’t we keep each other company? Two bachelors taking on the city.” Indrid gives a very awkward “ta-dah” with his fingers.

“Dunno, I don’t really feel like slummin.”

“You won’t be. I promise.”

Duck leans back in his chair, arms crossed, “Oh yeah?”

A knife-edge enters Indrid’s smile, only to be covered by a menu, “Let me buy you lunch as proof. Order whatever you like.”

He calls the older man’s bluff by ordering a craft beer, the most expensive burger on the menu, and three appetizers, only to discover it was not, in fact, a bluff. Indrid pays for everything without so much as glancing at the prices.

“There now” he smiles at Duck as the waiter clears his leftover steak (“as rare as possible, please”), “have I proven myself a worthy companion?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Excellent” Indrid claps his hands together, “then let us see what else this town has to offer.”

While they digest they peruse the malls and casino hop wherever there are shaded routes that allow them to do so. As they’re maneuvering through the throng near the aquarium, Indrid says, “tell me a bit about yourself, Duck. Nono, wait, let me guess; southern prep school, expensive college, a family very happy to support you while you search for your place in the world?”

Duck nods (the only ways he’s able to lie during their scenes).

“I certainly hope you didn’t burn through your trust fund playing the slots.” Indrid elbows him playfully.

“Nah. Set myself a limit for what I could spend gamblin each day.”

“Clever young thing.”

“Indrid, how old do you think I am?”

“Thirty?”

“Thirty-six.”

The crowd presses them closer together as Indrid murmurs, “You don’t look it.”

“If we’re goin for personal questions, how old are you?”

“Oh, a bit older than yourself.” Indrid replies breezily, “ooh, look, rays!”

When the thermometer flashing in-between advertisements for Lady Gaga and The Osmonds cracks a hundred, Indrid ushers Duck to the indoor pool at their hotel. His new companion lounges in a reserved cabana while Duck soaks in the cool water, other swimmers floating past him or propping themselves on the edges to talk with their partners.

And every time he surfaces, he feels a red tinted gaze watching him. His new friend isn’t even trying to hide it, flat out ogles him whenever he’s in shallow water. Duck’s far from the youngest or most ripped guy here, but Indrid’s eyes never stray. It’s flattering.

It also makes sinking further into his role as easy as slipping into the deep end.

If the rich weirdo wants to buy him fancy shit because Duck is hot, he can knock himself out. It’s not like Duck has to fuck him. But teasing him might get him even more free drinks and expensive souvenirs. If he plays his cards right, he won’t pay for a single thing the rest of his trip.

He hops out of the pool, takes his time drying off and stretching before laying on his belly on the swanky deck chair, facing the opposite direction Indrid is to give the other man a better view of his ass.

“Where to next?” He tries for a purr and only succeeds at exaggerating his drawl.

Indrid’s smile widens all the same, “I have a few ideas. But let’s linger here a bit longer.”

After that he stays as close to the other man as he can, let’s their shoulders bump and fingers brush as they make the rounds for some pre-dinner drinks. He even whispers a flirtatious word or two, makes Indrid blush when he orders a drink called “silver fox,” looks him dead in the eyes and grins, “my favorite.”

He’s plenty tipsy when Indrid steers them into a hallway where bass shakes the floor and pink light disguises the cracks in the walls.

“Can’t say you’ve been to Vegas unless you’ve seen a little sin.” Is all the explanation given before the doors open on a two story strip club.

“Holy fuck.” Duck lets Indrid shepherd him to a stage where several men with abs that look painted on play at fucking the air, the stage, and each other, much to the delight of the two bachelorette parties and the single men dotting the audience.

“You’re a fuckin genius.” Duck growls, sitting when Indrid pushes down on his shoulder. The older man takes the seat to his left, watching the proceedings with polite detachment. He orders a cocktail for Duck and water for himself.

In spite of his apparent disinterest, the dancers all come to Indrid, one after the other. In theory, some of them should pass by Duck afterwards. But they all go right back to the stage or to other patrons. The few times one even looks at him, their eyes immediately slide away onto Indrid.

The fact the other man is handing out fifties and hundreds like they’re singles probably helps.

A tall brunette is currently in Indrid’s lap, and the silver-haired man whispers something and points at Duck.

Suddenly there is a very hot man in a glorified thong in his lap, who gives him a vaseline slick smile, “Your friend over there bought you a dance.”

Indrid waves, the movement grating on Ducks pride. He glares in response.

The older man calls “you looked lonely.”

“I don’t need your fuckin charity.”

Indrid cocks his head, then shrugs, “very well. Please come back here, for double the tip.” He holds up three hundred-dollar bills. The instant the dancer is out of his lap, Duck stands and stomps out, swaying more than when he came in.

The onset of evening has worsened the crowds. He slogs and weaves through them with every intention of getting back to his room, ordering room service, and bandaging his scraped ego

“Why so down, Duck?”

“Fuck! Jesus, let a guy walk in peace will you?” Duck snaps as Indrid falls into step beside him.

“We're on the strip, there's no peace here. No quiet either. Makes it easy to do what one wants.”

Cool fingers find Duck’s wrist, keeping him from breaking ahead to the crosswalk. As they stand and watch the cars and buses roar by, Indrid murmurs, “How about a little friendly game as an apology?”

“Better not be fuckin blackjack.”

“Nono, I’m thinking Poker. If you win, you win bragging rights and whatever else you like that I can give you. But if I win...you have to walk me back to my room. I’ll still buy all the drinks, of course.”

Neon glints off a fang Duck pretends not to see.

“Fuck it, sure. I'm gonna wipe the table with you, old man.”

“I look forward to it.”

In spite of Indrid making good on his promise of drinks, Duck only has one Whiskey Sour before switching to water; being full-on drunk would make him worse at Poker, something he’s complete crap at on the best days. Figures Indrid would choose a game where bluffing is key.”

His card shark of a companion is beating him, and everyone else at the table, soundly. He also declines any food or drinks for himself. After two hours of play and countless hands of defeat, Duck surrenders. Indrid preens, tips their dealer, and wishes everyone else at the table a good night.

---------------------------------------

“Why are we takin the stairs to the top floor?” Duck stares up the winding flights, unable to see their stopping point.

“It’s good for one’s health. And it’s, ah, far more private.”

“Why do you need privacy gettin to your room.”

The footsteps behind him stop as they reach the next landing.

“Simple. I'm hungry.”

Duck whirls just in time to catch Indrid as he lunges at him, fangs bared. It turns out to be a useless movement, the vampire trapping him in a corner effortlessly.

“What the fuck, fuckin let me go.” Duck hisses.

Indrid licks a fang with a thoughtful hum, “I can, though it comes with its own risks.” He sighs, put upon, “But you have been such pleasant company, I suppose it’s only fair to give you a choice. If you let me feed now, I shall be as gentle as I can be and only take a little. Or you can take your chances at outrunning me. However, should I still catch you, then I will take as much blood--and whatever else I like--as I please.” He brushes their noses together, “It’s up to you, sweet one.”

Duck takes a deep breath, the game fading while Indrid gives him time to decide how he wants to play.

Then Duck shoves Indrid away from him and bolts through the nearby door, running down the maze of corridors until he finds his salvation. Indrid’s laugh is still ringing in his ears when the elevator door finally closes.

When the ding announces his floor, he pokes his head out like a prairie dog watching for a hawk. No sign of the vampire. He comforts himself with that though, and with the fact that there’s no way Indrid could catch up to him now, as he click his keycard into the lock.

He shuts the door and reaches for the light switch.

Chilly fingers circle his wrist.

“I win.”

Duck is dragged, then carried, through the darkness, the light not clicking on until he’s tossed onto the bed. Indrid stands at his side, grinning hungrily.

“W-wait, fuck, please, I, how’d you-”

“Quiet.” Indrid tosses his jacket on the floor, straddles Duck with fangs unashamedly on display. Duck whimpers, tries to curl in and protect his throat. Indrid noses at it all the same, “don't worry you spoiled excuse for a man, it won't hurt too much.”

“‘Drid” Duck gasps, tipping his head automatically at the purr in the vampires voice.

Cool lips tenderly meet his own, “Indulge me a bit longer?’

“Hell yeah I will, sugar.” Out of habit, he guides Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of crushing range, “Uh. Please, my dad is real fuckin wealthy, I'll pay you whatever you want?”

Indrid traces a sharp fingernail along Duck’s collarbone, “What I want is you. All those years getting what you demanded, not lifting a finger, you'll taste very rich.”

“Please don't kill me.” Duck can feel himself getting harder whenever teeth brush his skin.

The vampire cups his cheek, “Not a chance. I need to eat often, after all. And you're perfect to be my new pet. Spoiled, handsome, and no one will miss you.”

“Fuck you” Duck kicks weakly at Indrid’s ankle.

Indrid tuts, “Do I need to tie you down? I could hold you down easily, but I need my hands free to cover that sinful mouth and enjoy this lovely body while I feed.”

“N-no, no I’ll be good, I’llAAH!” His whole body tenses as fangs pierce his neck. He wants to cry out more but it’s perilous, might make him jerk away and tear the skin. But his body has to do something to release the tension, or the taught coils that replaced his muscles might snap and leave him in pieces.

He’s saved by a rush of pleasure melting every tendon, caressing every nerve into calm. Duck sinks into the bed, his body registering the suck of Indrid feeding but feeling no need to intervene. The vampires right hand creeps down to hold Duck’s left, his satisfied hum setting arousal buzzing in his chest.

Duck only realizes he’s been slowly grinding on Indrid’s slacks when the other man laughs, muffled and bloody. The vampire raises his head, lapping at the wounds so not a drop is wasted, “greedy boy. Even when you're dinner you think your pleasure deserves priority.”

“Please.” He wants his teeth in his neck forever, he wants his fingers and tongue between his legs every night.

Indrid kisses the wounds, sits up while daintily wiping his mouth with his shirt-sleeve, staining the starched white with red, “Delectable. Don't go anywhere, pet.”

“Not your fucking pet.” Wooziness pulls any teeth left in his tone, “and, and I thought you wanted me up here cause you were hungry. Now you ain’t. So, so I can go.”

“Oh no, that” he points to the marks on Duck’s neck, “was because I was hungry. The rest of tonight is happening because of your endless teasing.”

“I, uh, I don’t-” Duck turns bright pink.

“You were rather obvious. And silly me, indulging you because of your charms. Well, now it’s time to show me how grateful you are. Let me just slip into something a bit more comfortable.”

Indrid snaps his fingers. Reality gives a sickening crack. Then a mothman stands at the foot of the bed, feathers of soft browns rustling as he stretches his wings. He doesn’t have mandibles, but when he yawns it reveals rows of sharp teeth, the two where his human canines would be noticeably longer than the rest.

“Much better.”

Duck yelps, scrambles back into the headboard as Indrid dives onto the bed.

“Ah-ah” Indrid pins his arms and thighs to the bed with his four hands, “we had an agreement, little one. I get to do whatever I wish to you because you lost. And, more importantly” a long tongue drags up Duck’s cheek, “because that is how spoiled little humans earn their keep.”

“Oh god.” Is all Duck gets out before claws rip his shirt and shorts to colorful pieces. Indrid tips him sideways to finish mauling his shorts and pauses.

“What in the-” the vampire flips him onto his belly, stifles a giggle, “‘Bite me? Rather fitting underwear choice.”

“Thanks” Duck smirks into the blanket.

“Well, since I find myself incapable of denying you things, pet…” reality cracks once more.

“Wh-AHFUCK!” He yanks the nearest pillow over to muffle his cries as Indrid sinks his human fangs into the meat of Duck’s ass. It’s a different kind of pain, not as heart-pounding but just as fun. Indrid isn’t feeding, so he bites down only a few seconds before lifting his head to target another patch of skin. He doesn’t let up until Duck sobs his name into a silk pillow.

The vampire pulls back, but keeps Duck on his forearms and knees as he kisses a curve from his lower back to one of the innermost bite marks. Another shift and claws prick his legs.

“Mmmm, I can smell how turned on you are. I wonder….”

“Fuck, ohfuck” Duck pushes his hips back as Indrid’s tongue infurls down to tease his folds, “Indrid, please, please fuck me like that.”

“‘Ike ‘is?” The tongue presses in, thrusting lazily and without much pressure.

“Yes but, fuck, but more.”

A growl and Duck is slammed onto his back, Indrid looming over him with his wings outspread, “Have you forgotten the purpose of this evening?”

“No.” He stares up into red eyes, too turned on to be sheepish.

“Then why do you keep making demands? You have spent all day asking things of me and now it is time to show me why I tolerate such behavior.” He grabs Duck’s knees, holds them up and open with his lower arms, and purrs, “though there’s no denying your appeal from this angle.”

“Fuck yeah.” Duck fists the blanket in anticipation as Indrid adjusts them to put his head between the human’s legs. Indrid’s tongue caresses his dick, filling the room with slick, obscene sounds.

Then searing pain flashes through his left thigh as Indrid sinks the fangs of his form into it.

“FUCK! I, I thought, moths don’t-”

“Vampire moths do.” Indrid grins before smearing a line of red on Duck’s skin, “and I intend to drink my fill.”

Duck yelps again, slams a hand over his mouth when he remembers there’s two other suites on this floor.

“Be as loud as you like; I cast a little spell on this room to make sure no one hears what I’m doing to my new pet.” He thrusts his tongue into Duck without warning, fucking him on it until he’s bucking his hips, then pulling out to lap and suck at his thigh. When he next returns to sucking Duck’s dick, the feathers around his mouth are as red as his eyes.

Heat builds in Duck’s gut at the sight and he moans, “‘Drid, please, I’m so close to cummin just from this, please just let me cum.”

“Absolutely not.” Indrid drops his legs, dragging him into his lap with a hiss, “you have still not learned your lesson. You think you can get whatever you want just by looking sweetly at me. You’re so very wrong.” His upper arms trap Duck’s own behind his back while his lower set prick his hips, “now be a good pet and keep your legs open.”

Duck doesn’t get a chance to ask why; a cock, covered in vertical ridges with a very thick tip, shoves halfway into him.

“Mmmm, that’s lovely.” Indrid thrusts hurriedly, “now I remember why I put up with your demands all day. Spoiled though you may be, I’ve never had someone fit my cock so well. Ohhhhh” he opens his wings, grinning, “someone likes that.”

“Like you, fuck, Indrid, I swear I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t not teasing, no, fuck FUCKfuck” He takes as much as he can in one thrust, the last third still pulsing outside his body.

“Don’t lie, sweet human. I know you let me spoil you endlessly, teased me mercilessly all day, all while thinking you would spend your evening asleep and alone, rather than where you belong.”

Duck whimpers as his thighs fight to keep up the pace. They give out a moment later but nothing happens; Indrid’s grip on his hips is so strong he’s moving him without help.

“Fuck that’s so fuckin good.”

Indrid flutters his wings “You see how easily I control you, sweet one? You may be strong and handsome, but at the end of the day you’re nothing more than a toy for me to use and discard as I please.”

He whines at that, let’s himself go limp so it’s easier to hide his face in Indrid’s fluff.

“Don’t worry, pet, I shall not discard you. As I said, you are perfect for me, a lovely little gift to myself after a day spent giving them to you.” The hands restraining his arms let go and he instantly wraps them as far around the vampire as he can. Then clawed fingers gingerly stroke his dick. He groans out a thank you and Indrid laughs.

“Oh no, this isn’t for you. I just find that humans taste even better during orgasm.”

Any noise Duck makes in reply is drowned out in fluff and Indrids high, trilling moans as he sinks his teeth into his neck. Duck thrashes helplessly as his orgasm burns out his veins and muscles, leaving a melted man in its wake.

“Perfection” Indrid purrs, licking at the bite to close it as he grunts and pumps his hips, “my spoiled little human is finally worth something OHyesss, yes.” He holds a squirming Duck down on his cock as his spurts into him, the human unable to do anything but cling to him and moan his name.

A sweet voice lilts in Ducks ear, “if you ever forget what you’re for, or dare to tease me so again, I will strap you down in my lap and fill you until it sloshes.”

Duck nods to show he heard, but only gets through half the movement before wincing.

“Oh, oh dear, is the bite too big?”

“N-no, think, think it’s just real sore. You bit hard both times.”

“Let me look to be certain...yes, you’re right, the wounds are the usual size. Come, let’s get you in a bath at once.”

The next thing he knows, spindly arms lower him into the fancy jacuzzi. Indrid chirps over him, telling him how wonderful he is, how well he did, promising to fetch him anything he desires for dinner, all while bandaging the bigger marks and scrubbing blood from his chest. When the vampire is satisfied with his efforts, he takes his human form and joins Duck in the tub. The human immediately waves him into his lap and guides him into a kiss.

“Insatiable thing.” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.

“Damn right. And you love me for it.”

“That I do.”

[sweet-curried-powder]

so I joined a sk8 server recently, and @lo9lziz shared a headcanon involving the sk8 boys doing karaoke, and even though i hadn't been in said server for very long and wasn't very active, i felt like i just HAD to write this fic. i just had to. so here you go dudes

here's the ao3 link if anyone's interested in that!

~~

The karaoke place was loud.

There were a lot of people in the lobby that night, their ages ranging around about late teens to early to mid-twenties. Some of them were squealing and shouting, others were just talking loudly. There was music playing on some sort of speaker that didn’t seem visible to the eyes of the public, some sort of loud, denpa music playing loudly.

It was all way too much, so much noise. It made Langa’s brain hurt, with the loud noises echoing through his skull. He gripped his arms tightly, his fingernails digging into his pale skin.

“Langa?”

The Canadian felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. Reki.

“Are you okay? Is it too loud?” Reki’s voice was reassuring, with a caring tone, that reminded Langa of his mother, yet was still his best friend and crush. When Langa nodded, Reki dug in his hoodie pockets, putting some earbuds in his friend’s ears. Music started playing through the buds, one of the songs that Reki would play while they were skating. It might not be relaxing to others, but it was to Langa.

“Better?” Reki asked, taking Langa’s hands in his own, smiling as Langa nodded. “Good. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Langa mumbled a thank you in English before looking around. “I didn’t know there were places like this here in Japan.”

“Oh yeah, there’s tons of karaoke joints here,” Miya chimed in, glancing up from a sort of menu with bright neon colors on it. “This particular place is part of some karaoke lounge chain. Karaoke is a really big deal here for some reason.”

Langa nodded, looking around the lobby. There were lots of neon colors and bright lights, and the carpeting looked like it belonged in an 80s style roller rink.

“Okay kids, does anyone want any drinks before we go up to the room?” Cherry called out, adjusting his glasses slightly. “Feel free to get any drink you want, provided it doesn’t have alcohol.”

“I’m cool with whatever,” Miya mumbled, staring at a poster on the wall.

“I’ll have a cola!” Reki shouted, grinning widely.

“I’ll have what Reki’s getting.” Langa held on tightly to Reki’s hand, which felt warm and comforting.

“Ewww, get a room you two.” Miya teased, smirking as Reki shot a look at the younger boy.

“We are. The karaoke room.” Langa shifted his weight from side to side, still holding Reki’s hand.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you.”

“Language, Miya,” Cherry scolded, handing the boys their drinks. “C’mon. We have the room on the top floor for the next hour and a half.”

The earbuds came off once Langa was in the elevator.

~~

The room had plenty of open space, most likely because Cherry didn’t want the gorilla (Joe) to take up a tiny ass karaoke room. There were couches and some tables, and some sort of phone that looked like a common landline on the wall, with a laminated copy of the menu from downstairs hanging on the wall. There were several microphones on the table, which was near a small yet decently sized stage in the front of the room, next to a large TV on the wall. Langa noticed some sort of tablet-like object on a table, and picked it up, staring at the screen.

“How does this…” Langa mumbled in his native language, tapping on the screen. He didn’t even know what did what, he was just pushing buttons, since everything was in Japanese, and reading it was in no way his strong suit.

“Hold on, bud. I’ll show you the ropes.” He scooted over to Langa, pointing out the buttons and translating them for the Canadian. “This button shows you what songs are most popular, and if you click here, you can filter them by language and genre. And this button shows you all the songs they have in that specific language.”

“Wow, you’re really familiar with this, Papa,” Miya noted, sipping his drink.

“Of course he does. The thirsty gorilla probably drags girls here all the time,” Cherry muttered, shaking his head as he sipped his cherry cocktail. Of course, this spiraled into a fight, which proceeded as normal, aside from the fact that Cherry was already slightly tipsy.

“Should we do something?” Reki asked. “I mean, I’m used to them fighting, but I don’t want us getting kicked out…”

“Eh, I’m pretty sure they’ll settle things after—”

“Reki. Miya.”

The sudden, unnatural tone change in Langa’s voice caused the both of them to turn their heads. Langa showed the screen to them, where bright as day, the song Sk8r Boi was highlighted.

“Oh my God, they have it on here!” Reki’s smile was so wide, you would have thought his face was going to split in half. “Miya, c’mon! We gotta sing it!”

“You think I was gonna pass it down?” Miya grabbed a microphone and bounced onto the stage. Langa queued up the song, going onto the stage next to Reki, the opening notes of the song beginning to play. Joe and Cherry stopped fighting, glancing at the small stage. Reki was doing a dorky little air guitar riff, Langa awkwardly trying to copy him while Miya bounced on his toes.

“Oh God, not this song again,” Cherry groaned, rubbing his temples. “I was hoping they didn’t have it here… fuck, are we going to be hearing this for the next hour?”

“God, I hope not.” The muscled man looked at his kids. “Don’t tell Reki I said this just now, but his singing’s kind of awful.”

“I mean, we’ve heard worse,” Cherry sighed, tilting his head back and chugging the rest of his drink. “Remember our freshman year of college? We went to a party in one of the bigger karaoke bars, I think somewhere in Tokyo, and we had a singing contest?”

“Do I? Man, that guy sounded horrible. I wanted to throw up five seconds in.”

Cherry chuckled, leaning back. “That was fun. We were fun.”

“Hey! I’m still fun!” Joe shoved Cherry playfully.

“Yeah. But we have kids now. And two out of three of them are dumber than you.”

Joe decided to let that one go for now, glancing back at the boys.

“I’M WITH THE SKATER BOY!”

“I SAID ‘SEE YOU LATER, BOY’!”

“I’LL BE BACKSTAGE AFTER THE SHOW!”

The three of them were dancing around wildly as they sang, bumping into each other and nearly falling off the stage. Langa clearly had two left feet, his dancing making it look like he was having some kind of seizure, while Reki was fairly coordinated in his movements, though it clearly looked like he was trying to match up with Langa, even somewhat.

Miya sat down on the stage after the song was over, panting softly from the intense singing and dancing. Langa took the little song selector thing, swiping through the songs, looking for something to sing.

“Let’s join the kids.” Cherry announced to Joe, standing up and stumbling slightly, tugging Joe’s giant arms, trying to pull his childhood best friend to his feet. “C’mon, you big assed gorilla.”

“You’re drunk off your ass, aren’t you Karou?” Joe stood up, trying to support Cherry as best as he could.

“I’m just tipsy. And I can be fun again,” Cherry pouted, pulling Joe to the boys. “Boys! We wanna sing.”

“...you’re drunk, mom,” Langa commented.

“A brilliant observation, snow slime,” Miya scoffed.

“C’mon, what’re we singing?” Cherry smirked, grabbing a microphone and flipping it in his hand.

“I was thinking something like—”

“NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP!” Reki shouted, loud enough to make the room shake, maybe. Langa jumped slightly, Miya returning the shit-eating grin that took up almost all of Reki’s face.

“I’ll sit this one out,” Miya giggled. “I wanna record this.” He pulled his phone out, hitting record as Langa searched up the well-known rickroll and pressed play. The familiar tune played through the speakers, and nobody looked at the TV. They knew the words by heart, thanks to a certain snow-haired teenage boy.

“WE’RE NO STRANGERS TO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE, YOU KNOW THE RULES, AND SO DO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

It was pure chaos on the stage. Langa was doing his weird seizure-like dancing, Joe was taking up a good portion of the stage, and Cherry and Reki were tied for the loudest voice in the room, though the latter was singing horribly, and the former had no shame, being drunk.

Miya was trying his hardest to not laugh his cat whispering ass off. This was going to be pure gold when he showed this to Cherry the next morning, especially if the calligrapher didn’t remember jack shit.

[thatgirlwhowrites01]

hot head

part 11 | masterlist

social media au

zuko x reader

this is a very long and fluffy update and I hope it makes up for my lack of posting these past couple days 🥺🥺💕💕💕

Zuko POV

“What is your partner’s name again?”

“Uncle, they aren’t my partner,” carrying a tray of used tea cups towards the back of the shop, I cleared my throat as I set it down by the sink for washing later. “Their name is y/n.” I folded my arms across my chest and faced towards Iroh, a grin displayed clearly.

“You’re telling me that my nephew is doing all this work for a friend?” he laughed.

“I’m doing all this work because you’re letting us stay in the loft,” my hands pointed to the stairs, “Besides, I owe them a favor and they’ve never been to Ba Sing Se, it’s the least I could do.” Which wasn’t a complete lie. I did owe them a favor, after everything I did I’m surprised they even responded to my initial dm. The only problem was keeping uncle out of the loop. He always had a knack for knowing when I was being sneaky and although it was a sense that came in handy when I was a child, as a fully capable adult it has now become annoying.

“What do you plan on doing tonight?”

“Um, I’m not too sure, I’m just planning on showing them the main spots of the city and then maybe some dinner.” I tried to play it off cool, but inside my heart was pounding at a rate far from healthy.

“Just make sure when you guys get back to lock the doors and wash any dishes you use, I’ll be in around nine in the morning tomorrow.”

“I will, don’t worry.” I watched as uncle took the shop key off the hook on the back wall. He tossed it to me with a wink, “Have fun Zuko.”

The shop was now mine for the night and I still had a couple hours before I had to leave to pick y/n up. There wasn’t much left to do since I had been here all day to help with customers and cleaning. I finished setting up the loft early this morning, it wasn’t anything super fancy. A couch that could be folded into a bed was pressed to the side wall and a nice mattress layed towards the back. I set up some fairy lights and a couple lanterns placed on tables around the room to add a relaxed ambience when lit tonight.

I can’t explain the feelings I’m having, nervous? Excited? I’m not sure, it’s hard to say. When Azula first told me about y/n she described them as this ugly, manipulative, mean person. But they aren’t like that at all. I remember when I first watched their video, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of them. They were beautiful, and the way they laughed made me feel warm inside, something I haven't felt in a long time. Azula insisted they were bad, and unfortunately I believed her. When they retaliated against me I didn’t know how to act, it filled me with rage because no one ever retaliates against me. I genuinely did hate them for a while but when the private investigator told me about what happened with their mom I wanted to take everything back. They had already been through so much and I was taking away something that could potentially work out really well. Despite what happened in the past I want this night to be a sort of ‘peace treaty’ if possible.

Y/N POV

The circumstances weren’t exactly ideal.. Zuko, the one who bullied me relentlessly with his twitter fingers was going to be my tour guide of Ba Sing Se for the night. The warnings from Katara and all my other friends wouldn’t leave my head and I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that they were right. I did forgive too easily, but it was too late to cancel and plus I’ve never been to the city before.

I packed a small bag with a change of clothes and a couple miscellaneous items, being unsure of what the night would bring I made sure to pack some pepper spray too. I don’t think Zuko would try to hurt me, but being in a big city with one of the biggest jerks I know I had to come prepared.

It’s nearing five in the afternoon and my nerves are starting to get the better of me. Anytime now Zuko would be here and I’m starting to realize how awful this situation is. I could taste blood in my mouth from chewing on the inside of my cheek, “fuck,” I said while reaching for my phone. Almost on instinct my fingers swiped to Katara’s name in my contacts. The monotone ring droned on until I heard her pick up on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Katara, I’m freaking out, Zuko’s gonna be here at any moment and I don’t know what to do,”

“Hey it’s gonna be okay, are you sure you want to do this? I can always just make up an excuse for you so you don’t have to go?” I can tell she desperately wants me to say yes, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“No it’s okay, I just really need someone to talk to until he gets here,”

“Okay, I promise it’s gonna be alright. You’ve got a whole army waiting up tonight to make sure you’ll be okay. Sokka, Suki, and Toph are gonna come over to Aang’s house with me and we’re not going to sleep until you’re back at wherever you’re staying.”

“Okay,” I laughed “If I don’t send updates by 11 send someone”

“Will do, Toph said she’s been ready to practice some knew boxing moves”

“Can’t wait,”

Our conversation went on for several minutes until I heard a knock on my door. “Coming!” I yelled and quickly ended the call, rushing to grab my bag. My hand curled around the handle and realization hit when I opened the door to see Zuko holding a bouquet of sunflowers. I smiled “Are these for me?”

“Yeah, I figured it’s the least I could do to make up for stuff.”

“Thank you,”

He seemed different than in his videos. His face was softer and his voice less harsh. I followed him to his car which was, to put it lightly, much nicer than my mini-van. I’m not even a car person but it was polished black with dark tinted windows and red rims, definitely something I could see him driving. He opened my door,  allowing me to slide in and fully appreciate the car. Leather seats accompanied a ‘new car’ smell and the front displayed a touch screen for controls. Shitty person or not, he rides in style.

After pulling away from my apartment the car fills with a low volume of slow RnB, “I’m not too sure if you  have anything specific in mind that you want to do, so I figured I’d show you my favorite parts of the city and grab something to eat, maybe some drinks?”

“That sounds great to me,” I smiled.

The rest of the car ride was silent, but with the mix of the sun close to setting, RnB, and the scenery I didn’t feel the need to talk. For a Friday night the traffic wasn’t that bad, we worked our way through it easily and stopped outside of a tea shop.

“This is my Uncle’s shop, there’s a loft on the top he said we could use for the night.”

“That’s so nice of him,  I’ll have to come back sometime to say thank you.”

I waited behind Zuko as he fiddled with the door. Now that I am standing next to him it was clear how muscular he was. The tight green shirt fit snug around his shoulders and biceps, his back muscles flexed while giggling the door handle. Finally it popped open and my focus changed to the space we were entering. It was cute and tiny, tables lined the walls and the bar had several stools flipped on top. I followed Zuko as he climbed the stairs to the loft.

“I washed and made the bed for you so you don’t have to worry about bugs or  anything,” Zuko pointed to the bed. I walked over to throw my bag down on the mattress “This place is so adorable, I love it!”

“Tea is my uncle's passion, when I was younger and he first started this shop I worked for him. This place is practically my home away from home.” He sat down on the couch facing me.”

I nodded, taking the place in. Fairy lights danced around the ceiling twinkling in a way that was mesmerizing. “Are you hungry?” Zuko asked.

“Is that even a question?” we both shared a laugh, “Come one, I know the best place for some pho.”

***

“And then, I practically threw up all over the place!” I laughed uncontrollably through my mouth full of pho,  “I can’t believe that,  in the middle of church?!” Zuko’s comment made me laugh even harder. “I swear! My mom was so mad it took everything in her power to not to drag me out by my hair!”

The night was going incredibly well. After a couple awkward ice breakers we somehow got on the subject of disappointing our parents and now we were the loudest table in the restaurant. Zuko was so much easier to talk to than I expected, and we had a lot in common.

“Excuse me, but would you and your partner like any dessert?” I was too busy laughing, I didn't even see the waiter approaching.

“Oh, they aren’t my partner.” I couldn’t help but snort which in turn made Zuko start laughing again, “I think we’re ready for the check if that’s alright” he said with as much composure and he could muster. I waited until the waiter was out of sight, “Partner” I snorted again. “Hey, the guy was just trying to find out if you were single,” I rolled my  eyes at Zuko’s comment. “Whatever..”

“It’s the truth! I bet everytime you go out you’re bombarded with people trying to get  with you!”

“Mhmm for sure, but I only  grace them with attention if they can guess my favorite color.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Zuko stared at me, rolling his lips to hide his smile.

“Why would you want to know? Are you trying to gain my attention?”

“I just want to make sure I know who I’m dealing with, they say you can learn a lot from people’s favorite color you know..”

“And who exactly is ‘they’?” I asked while crossing my arms.

“I prefer to keep that a secret.” He said while mimicking my stance.

We laughed together again at the stupidity of our argument. The waiter came back with the check and I reached for the cash I brought but before I could even get it to the table Zuko handed him a few $20’s telling him to keep the change. Warmth rose to my face “Thank you, I could’ve at least split it with you,”

“No worries, this is your trip and I wanna make it special.” he smiled, “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

We began walking the silent streets of Ba Sing Se, I admired all the little shops along the way. There was so much to do here and so many different people to meet. I think I have fallen in love with the city. When we came upon a small turn Zuko asked me to close my eyes.

“Why?” I smiled, I didn’t really care for the reason but I enjoyed teasing him.

“Just do it,”

With my eyes closed he grabbed my hand. I felt a jolt of energy race through my body. His hands were warm and calloused and much bigger than mine. The same warmth I felt at dinner returned as I tried suppressing my smile to no avail.

“You’re gonna love this.” he said, I could almost see his grin in my imagination. As he guided me I could hear water splashing and turtle ducks quacking. I was so excited I almost opened my eyes. Eventually he stopped me, “Can I open my eyes now?” I asked, wanting to know what he had led me to. “One sec,”

He shifted behind me, I could tell he was standing close because the heat radiating off of his body touched the back of my neck. “Okay, open.”

I was greeted with the sight of a beautiful fountain lit from all around, I felt like I had entered another world. It was so beautiful, the lights reflecting off the water made it even brighter. “What do you think?”

“Zuko, this is so pretty. I love it”

“I’m glad, this is one of my favorite spots. Especially at night.”

“I can see why,”

He made his way right next to me. We were standing so close our fingers grazed each other. I smiled at him nervously, unsure of what to do. “Do you want to feed the turtle ducks? I’ve got some bread”

“Yes!!” I said while practically running towards the animals in the fountain. I sat on the ledge which was a bit wet but not uncomfortable and Zuko took a seat next to me pulling a bag out of his pocket. He handed me a couple pieces to throw into the fountain and I wasted no time throwing it in.

They swarmed the area close to us splashing water as they ate. Zuko and I krept closer and closer together, if I moved my head it would bump into his shoulder.

I felt his hand fall on top of mine and I looked up. His eyes looked into mine and fell to my lips, the tension building had me leaning closer. His hand came up to gently cup my cheek while my eyes fluttered closed. Our lips met  with a heat, my breath caught in my chest due to the sudden sensation.

The kiss was slow, but short. This was better than the kiss Haru and I shared back at Aang’s grandparent’s house. This was electric and made me feel something.  We pulled away, my forehead falling on his. I could feel my heart beating through my chest.

This felt right.

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[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Maze of Memories” - A Phobia Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Bang Chan

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Some violence, and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Genre: Mafia AU; Sequel

Summary: Chan hated that his underground world of women, drugs, and alcohol threatened his family’s safety and well-being. But after yet another close call, he realizes that he finally needs to leave the Mafia world for good.

A/N: Hopefully, I tied up everything nicely with this AU!

Chan was paranoid, but he tried not to let it show too much.

Throughout the past few weeks, he had started to receive threatening letters in the mail concerning his wife and children. Under most circumstances, Chan would retaliate and have Jisung and Changbin find the culprit responsible, but he was unusually scared about this particular case. And maybe it was because he was protecting more than himself.

“You’re thinking about something,” his wife remarked, and he glanced at her while brushing his fingers through his hair.

It hadn’t been cut since the letters started arriving.

“Stressed,” Chan offered in return, and he turned onto his side so that he could rest his hand atop his wife’s stomach. “How are you feeling today?”

“Today was good,” she replied, and Chan was glad because the recent pregnancy symptoms had started to take their toll. Especially since their two-year-old daughter was still unable to grasp the idea that her parents might divide their attention with a future sibling.

“I have a meeting later,” Chan said, and his words were slightly slurred as he buried himself closer to the source of his wife’s sweet scent.

“Jisung told me earlier,” his wife said, and Chan had almost forgotten about Jisung’s impromptu visit that morning. But he was a regular mainstay in the house because he loved Chan’s daughter and he often spoiled her with gifts.

“Make sure the doors are locked when I’m gone,” Chan said, and he could sense his wife’s tension. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Chan said, and he kept a protective arm wrapped around his wife in an act of reassurance that he would follow through on since he had once made a promise to always keep them safe from harm.

It was late when Changbin and Jisung met him at one of the loudest clubs in the downtown area. 

Chan was already annoyed by the pounding bass music which he could hear all the way from the street. But he was even more perturbed by the fact that he was hear at a club instead of next to his wife in bed. “It shouldn’t take long,” Jisung said as if he could read his thoughts.

“Who is this guy again?” Chan asked, following Changbin’s lead as he navigated their group through the treacherous dance floor and even further to the back of the club.

“He’s harmless,” Jisung said, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waitress as the three friends sat together at their assigned section. “But he sells cheap booze.”

“Did you bring the contract?” Chan asked, and he rolled his eyes when Jisung plopped an expensive leather suitcase onto the table with a smirk.

“I’ve got everything covered, boss,” Jisung said with a teasing tone. “Mr. Kim should be here any moment.”

“Like you had everything covered last time with the case files?” Changbin chuckled, and Jisung shot him a glare, but any potential argument was broken upon the outlandish entrance of a man who looked like he had walked straight out of a Batman comic.

He wore an expensive suit, but the purple pants did no favors with the moss-green button-up that covered his torso. “Mr. Bang Chan,” Mr. Kim said when he was closer to their group. “It’s an honor to meet you.’

“Likewise,” Chan said, determined to skip the polite greetings.

“I can see you’re not a man who wastes time,” Mr. Kim remarked, and he sat down next to Jisung who already held the contract in his hand.

“Everything is ready for you to sign, Mr. Kim.”

“Slow down, gentleman,” Mr. Kim said, and he took a sip of his drink as he perused the complex verbiage of the contract. “I remember a time when your organization was notorious for spending weeks getting to know a client.”

“Time shouldn’t be wasted,” Changbin remarked, and he exchanged a quick look with Chan to let him know that he also sensed something unusual with this man.

“Oh, I quite like that,” Mr. Kim said, and he looked at Changbin thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Seo, what are your plans for this contract?”

Changbin frowned. “Didn’t Jisung already explain everything?”

“But I want to make sure that we’re all on the same page,” Mr. Kim explained. “I would hate for there to be some discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Chan asked, and he usually knew better than to fall into such an obvious trap.

“Well,” Mr. Kim started, “For example, I heard a rumor that the three of you were planning to sell the Miroh organization off to someone else. Something about needing to settle down in the future.”

Chan bristled at the comment because that wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. “Nothing has been decided.”

“I think I should know about it,” Mr. Kim continued. “After all, I like to understand my business partner’s motivations.”

“Our motivations are simple,” Chan growled. “We sign contracts with the clubs in the areas to help our own fortunes. We use these clubs to help our contacts when they need a place to meet.”

“Of course,” Mr. Kim agreed. “But if you sold the organization, then there’s no telling who might purchase it next!”

“We would research all possibilities,” Changbin contributed. “We’ve invested a lot of time and resources into its success.”

“Notably,” Mr. Kim said. “However, I can’t help but wonder-”

“You don’t have to sign,” Chan interrupted. “There’s nothing that we could do to stop you.”

“Oh, I’m signing Mr. Bang because I need the money,” Mr. Kim said. “But I’m advising you not to sell the organization.”

“You have no right to advise me about anything,” Chan sneered, and Mr. Kim shook his head like he was disappointed with the answer.

“I guess you leave me no choice,” Mr. Kim said, and he nodded to one of his men who immediately started walking towards the bar.

“What’s he doing?” Changbin asked, and there was a cold tension settling over the three men.

“Just making a call,” Mr. Kim replied. “I’ll probably pay the consequences tonight, Mr. Bang. But you’ll suffer even more.”

“What do you mean?” Chan growled, and he was reaching out for the collar of Mr. Kim’s suit jacket, holding him close so that he could see the amusement in his opponent’s gaze.

“You should get home to your wife and child,” Mr. Kim sneered. “Before it’s too late.”

But Chan didn’t need another reason to stand up from the table and end the meeting, giving Mr. Kim one last lingering glare before he left Changbin to deal with the messy clean-up.

Afterward, Jisung and Chan were speeding down the road, making phone calls to reach as many of their men as possible in the short distance that it would take to arrive at Chan’s house.

But the first thing Chan had done was contact his wofe:

“Sweetheart,” Chan had whispered into the phone when she answered the phone. “Take Ella and hide inside the secret room in the basement. Don’t say a word, and wait for me to give you the all-clear signal, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she had replied, but it broke Chan’s heart to hear the pain and fear in her tone, especially when he had also inadvertently listened to his daughter questioning why she had to leave her room so late at night.

“Are you good, man?” Jisung asked him when he hung up the phone, but Chan was anything but controlled. “Take it easy,” Jisung warned him. “We’re almost there.”

Chan knew that Jisung was right, and there was nothing else Chan could do until they reconvened together outside of his house. But it was still driving him mad, testing the limits of his patience. 

“Countdown inside your head,” Chan whispered to himself, trying to keep a hold on his volatile emotions.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4-

“CHAN!” Jisung shouted, and Chan opened his eyes right before the impact with the other vehicle which sent them spiraling down the road.

“Shit!” Chan cursed, but he realized that the impact wasn’t meant to kill them - it was only a deterrence to prevent his arrival home.

Subsequently, he watched as Jisung took out his gun and aimed it at the men in the other vehicle, firing off three shots in rapid succession. “Felix and Minho are almost there,” Jisung said after the attack, and he evacuated the shattered remains of the car before coming around to help Chan out of the passenger’s seat. “Are you hurt?”

“Just sore,” Chan replied, stretching out his arms before reaching back for his own weapon. “Let’s run.”

Jisung nodded, and the two men cautiously made their way down the narrow road leading to Chan’s private estate. Even from a distance, he could see the lights on inside the bedrooms, and there were unfamiliar cars surrounding the building. It was enough to get his adrenaline racing, and Chan was resisting the instinct to run ahead and find his wife and daughter.

But the risk of blowing their cover was too great, and Chan forced himself to stay hidden behind Jisung as they walked onto the front porch. “Minho’s around back,” Jisung commented, narrowing his eyes as he listened to something coming in from his ear piece. “There’s two men in the kitchen.”

“Take care of them,” Chan said. “I’m going to the basement.”

Jisung agreed, and Chan reared back to kick down the door before he and Jisung were rushing inside the house. 

“Hands up!” Jisung screamed when he parted from Chan at the staircase, and Chan could hear gunshots ringing in his ears as he kept moving his feet, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There were no sounds coming from the bottom of the basement, and Chan tried to control his breathing as he knelt down to flip on a light switch. Immediately, there a shot from an opponent who was standing next to the backdoor, but Chan was low enough to dodge the attack before returning firing successfully.

And once the other man had collapsed to the floor, Chan wasn’t hesitant in the slightest to knock four times on the door to the secret room in a careful pattern that he had rehearsed with his wife and daughter. “Daddy!” he heard Ella screech just seconds before she was launching herself into his arms.

And he held her close with an impossible strength.

“Channie,” his wife added, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she left the room with tears rimming red circles around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Chan whispered, and he opened his arms even wider for his wife, keeping his family close as they all cherished one another in the aftermath of an incident that could’ve been far worse.

It was enough for Chan to realize that he was done with the Mafia world, and he would sell the Miroh organization and do his best to distance himself from the drugs and alcohol. Instead, he would give his family a better life - one that they deserved where their safety would never be questioned, and where his daughter and future child could grow up without ever worrying about the need to look over their shoulders.

It had been his life for so long, but he was surprised at how easy it was to give up everything for the people who had completely and utterly captured his heart.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {4}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot Heavy, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Flirtation, LOTS OF DIALOUGE

Words: 4k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 |

-Aliya-

 You were groggy, and you knew why. Once you got in from your impromptu date, you were so aroused you had to immediately jump into the shower. You’d hoped the water would have helped alleviate the situation, but your multi rainfall showerheads only made your body more sensitive and hungry. So after as much resisting as humanly possible (two minutes), you decided to take care of it yourself. The only problem was once wasn’t enough, twice barely took the edge off, and by the time you made it to your fourth attempt, you were minimally appeased and still thinking about the man with the captivatingly blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean itself.

Sleep was not even an option, so you snuggled in bed wrapped in his sweater that cocooned you with his scent—a scent that you already loved. When you went through your phone, you nearly rolled out of your bed when you saw the four additions he’d added to your gallery. The four selfies were perfection. The lighting was on point, and each and every one of the photos showed how gorgeous he was. He had no bad angles, the sun loved him, the night loved him, and you were sure the rain, snow, sleet, and wind would too. No man should have that amount of gorgeousness. It wasn’t fair.

 After spending way too much time gawking at his pictures, you found the pictures he’d had most likely have seen. When you looked through them, you wanted to die. The pictures definitely didn’t leave much to the imagination. You wondered what he’d thought when he saw them or even if he had to do a little self-gratification when he saw them or even when he got home. For some reason, you’d wanted him to have been overcome with desire for you, even though you weren’t sure just what the hell you were doing.

As you sat at your table with your friends for brunch, you tried to ignore the flashes of cameras from the tables within sight of yours. It wasn’t something anyone ever got used to. You always felt like you had to be “on.”

 “It feels like it’s been years since we talked,” Amaya whined out as she gripped yours and Alicia’s hand. She was the dramatic one.

 “I know. It’s crazy how dependent we are on our cellphones,” you added.

 “Leece filled me in and told me everything,” Amaya began. She dropped her jaw and bugged her eyes for emphasis.

 “Everything?”

 “Yep, now for you to continue,” Amaya steered.

 You groaned and exaggeratedly rolled your eyes. “I’m too hungry for this,” you whined as you flipped through the menu. You were starving enough to eat the entire menu.

 “Welcome to Blue Café. My name is Will. What can I get you guys?”

 The waiter in a blue apron had a great smile and an even better head of curls. He definitely could have been a model.

 “I want something heavy. I drank a lot last night. Hmm, the split pea soup to begin, a cheeseburger with the works except for onions and mushrooms. Very well done, please and to drink ummm, a strawberry and mint lemonade,” you listed.

 “All right, and you, ladies?”

 Your friends ordered as you checked your phone to find Henry calling. It was at this moment you realized he’d programmed himself into your phone even with an ID pic. He’d really gotten comfortable with it. The amusement of his boldness had you smiling to yourself.

 “So?”

 Amaya’s voice had you putting your phone down after dimming the screen to give them your attention.

 “We had dinner,” you blandly announced.

 “So, you actually stayed.”

 Nodding to Alicia’s inquiry, you continued. “I did. He said if after drinks and appetizers I couldn’t stand him, then I could go.”

 “I guess you could stand him,” Amaya sarcastically slid in. You knew just what she was implying.

 “Guess so.”

 “How’d he look?”

 Your smile spread before you could stop it. “Amazing, gorgeous. I have no words for how beautiful this man is,” you practically screeched as you tried to wipe the stupid grin off your face. It was too late to, though, they’d already seen it, and you knew they were judging.

 “He’s not a piece of meat, Liya,” Alicia sarcastically chastised.

 “Uggh, are you sure because I’d say he’s prime grade A man steak,” you said. As soon as the words were out, your friends laughed loudly, bringing the attention of those around you. Even though you tried not to, you had to laugh as well.

 “He is fine. I’ve seen his movies. God him in spandex for Superman did it for me,” Amaya confessed.

 You didn’t blame her, that man in spandex would do it for any woman.

 “How was the conversation?”

 Practicing some etiquette, you cleared your throat and sat back. “Good. Flowing, no awkward pauses except the stares and dirty thoughts that had me sweating like a horny teenager.”

 Amaya snorted then fanned herself. “It would happen to me too.”

 “How was he?”

 Alicia always knew how to ask the right questions. You were convinced it was her superpower. You thought back to Henry’s smile and demeanor last night, and that had you smiling. “Eh-em, he was the perfect gentleman. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, was respectful to the servers, courteous, mannerable—he was good.”

 The two of them exchanged looks that said this questioning wasn’t anywhere close to finished.

 “What happened after dinner?

 “We went for drinks.”

 “Ooh, an extended first date,” Amaya sing songed.

 “Eh, this wasn't a date. It was an exchange of phones,” you clarified.

 “Did you get your phone?”

 “I did, after the bar. Turns out, he looked through it and saw my semi-nude,” you announced.

 “Which one?”

 After showing them the picture, they giggled. “Oh, the suggestive nude, nude,” Alicia joked as she rolled her eyes.

 “Yeah, now I’m weirded out. Not because I was pretty much naked but because he saw me pretty much naked and--.”

 “—There is nothing between you now, and that makes it much harder to ignore because you want to rip his clothes off,” Alicia filled in like the mind-reading Aliya whisperer she was.

 You rapidly nodded with your eyes widened; she got it. your laugh slipped out, and it made you feel like a raving lunatic. “Oh my god, this man has invaded me.”

 “Sounds sexy,” Amaya said.

 “It’s not,” you flatly corrected.

 “It can be if you let it,” Alicia suggested.

 You rolled your eyes again and fiddled with your phone. “Guys, he’s juggling two women.”

 “You don’t know that,” Amya blurted out, the first to come to his defense.

 “Explain two women blowing up his phone daily for a week and a half. Explain that. As a woman, I am not going to blowing up any man’s phone like that unless I’m sleeping with him.”

You looked between them and watched as they both came up with their defenses.

 “That could be anything. Sisters,” Amaya suggested.

 “He has no sisters, four brothers.”

 “Brother’s wives?”

 You narrowed your eyes and gave them the “do I look stupid” look, but they continued.

 “Assistants, he is an actor,” Amaya added.

 After kissing your teeth in the loudest way possible, you rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

 “Ask him,” Alicia advised.

 “For what? There is no reason to. We are nothing to each other,” you concluded.

 The two of them sat there quietly, looking at you as if you were a bold face liar. You didn’t care. It was your truth.

 “When you got home, did you touch yourself?”

 Your jaw dropped as you gaped at her. “Shut up!”

 “Oh my god!” Amaya’s loud ass mouth brought all the eyes. You had to cover your face as they obnoxiously laughed at you.

 “Enough. We’re done rehashing this,” you grumbled.

 “Wait, one last thing. During dinner, did you ever get the impression that he couldn’t wait for it to be over or that this may be all about a conquest?”

 You knew what she was doing. Amaya was not as slick as she thought she was. You rolled your eyes again and sighed before you answered. “No.”

 “Okay.”

 That was all she came back with as if her hypothesis needed no further defense. They always ganged up on you, and it was clear where they stood in this new situation, and it wasn’t with you.

 Shopping followed your brunch, but that was cut short by the paparazzi hounding you after the third store you emerged from. Someone must have dropped the tip to bring them. It was a madhouse and an immediate good time killer. The three of you had to alternate your plan for a day of fun and finished it out with a drive to Santa Monica to enjoy the boardwalk. All in all, it turned out to be a really chill day, one that you’d needed more than you knew.

By the time you got back to your house, it was nearing six. Once in front of your door, your jaw dropped seeing a jaw-dropping floral arrangement sitting there. You didn’t know who it was from, but you had your suspicions. It took some strength, but you managed to get it inside to your kitchen. With it on the counter, you just stared at it. Under the light, it was even more beautiful than outside. After admiring the display for a few moments, you pulled the card from between the leaves and petals then read it.

 -Aliya,

I hope this finds you well. I had a great time last night, and it was because you trusted me enough to give me time to prove why I deserve your time. Hopefully, this is just the first of many dates.

 -Henry-

 What started as a straight face turned to a small smile, which led to a full-on elated, goofy grin. He was unpredictable for sure and so damn polite. Damn the British; you thought as you buried your nose in the bouquet. You moaned and inhaled the aroma of flowers that looked like they’d cost a pretty penny. He was definitely working overtime, that was for sure. The question you had now was what exactly did he want.

 Sighing, you took out your phone and opened up your messages prepared to shoot him a quick thank you text. With your finger hovering over one of the letters in your keyboard, you sighed again, feeling the overwhelming urge to call instead. After putting it on speaker, you sat in the barstool and waited two rings until Henry’s deep voice filled your kitchen.

 “Hello?”

 Your belly did backflips.

 “Hi,” you whispered.

 “Hi. How are you?”

 “Good.”

 You were desperately trying to recover from the unexpected reaction his voice had.

 “Glad to hear it. I called you earlier.”

 “Uh—I must have missed it. I was catching up with some friends.”

 “Okay,” he replied.

 Silence fell between you as each of you waited for the other to speak.

 “Um, I wanted to call and thank you,” you began.

 “For what?”

 “The flowers I’m looking at. They’re incredibly beautiful.”

 “Do you like them? The florist said the day after flowers should be subtle and sincere rather than flashy or extravagant,” Henry explained.

 You smiled wider as you checked the mental box for him being considerate.

 “Well, the florist knows what she’s talking about. They are perfect; you chose well.”

 “Good. I’m glad you like them.” He sounded like he was smiling as widely as you were.

 “How do you know where I live?”

 He paused for a few moments before he spoke. “I had your phone for twelve days. I probably know more about you than most of the world.”

 Those could have been the creepiest words you’d heard in a long time, and it was like your head was trying to figure out if you should take it as a red flag or laugh.

 “Have I freaked you out?”

 The way he said it sounded like he was finding amusement in it. You snorted and shook your head.

 “Why would you say that? Just because you went through my phone and figured out where I lived to send flowers? No, isn’t that what normal men do?”

 Henry’s laugh followed your words, and it drastically did away with any awkward tension that was in the air.

 “With you saying it out loud, I can see how you’d be freaked.”

 “To be honest, my initial reaction was shock, and then, strangely enough, it went away like this was everyday life,” you explained.

 “I’m really not trying to freak you out; I promise,” Henry pressed.

 “Then what are you trying to do exactly?”

 The silence returned, and you wondered if he would even answer the question.

 “Right now—I’m trying to ask you to have dinner with me tonight.”

 You put your head on the cold granite of your counter and sighed out.

 “We just had dinner last night.”

 “I’m told, based on human physiology, we actually have to eat three or more meals a day in order to sustain,” Henry explained.

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

 You smiled again and rested your chin in your palms.

 “Don’t you have things to do?”

 “I might, but I don’t care. I’d like to have dinner with you instead.” His conviction was so damn sexy. He wasn’t shy about professing his wants.

 “What if I have work to do and can’t shrug it off like you, Superman?”

 “I’m sure you can if you want to. Guess that’s the question. Do you want to? I take it you’re a woman who does what she wants when she wants no matter what. I doubt scheduling conflicts could keep you away from a dinner with someone you wanted to be at dinner with. Do you want to?”

 He probably did well in school with debate. He spoke beautifully and had a way with words.

 “I’m going to be at Taylor’s Steakhouse in Koreatown at nine tonight. I’ll wait until nine-thirty. Hopefully, I see you there,” Henry said before he hung up.

 Pressing your fingertips to your eyes, you groaned loudly. “Oh my god!”

 You stared at the flowers again and toyed with the petal of one of the blush-colored roses. The debate of the night wasn’t if you wanted to go or not. It was if you should or not.

 By the time you were dressed, it was close to eight forty-five. You were sitting in your closet in front of the mirror, still trying to convince yourself to go.

 “It’s no big deal, Aliya. It’s food, drinks, nothing more.”

 Your words sounded sure, but your face looked anything but.

 “Then why did you put so much effort in if it’s no big deal?”

 You sat there going back and forth with yourself like a crazy person. For every pro, you had you quickly came up with a con. It was endless. When your phone rang, you expected it to be Henry but were relieved when you saw it was your grandmother.

 “Oh my goodness, Gramaw. How did you know I needed you?”

 “I felt your distress. What’s wrong?”

 “I have a date, but I don’t know if I should go,” you blurted out.

 “Date with who?”

 She sounded shocked, and you didn’t blame her. It had been years since you’d spoken to anyone about a man, let alone a date. You spent the next ten or so minutes explaining everything to her, not leaving out one bit of information. You needed her to understand the situation now and give you the best advice.

 “Wow,” she uttered.

 “Yep.”

 “Why exactly are you debating going? It sounds like this has been decided for you.”

 “Uggh! Fate. I hate fate.”

 Your Gramaw laughed at you. She was one of those old souls who firmly believed in fate, destiny, and all the hoopla around it. You, on the other hand, had been disenchanted by it all.

 “Why do you hate fate?”

 “It’s always been hanging around me,” you whined. Again she laughed.

 “Oh honey, this is the first time fate has been anywhere near you. Other times has been sheer coincidence.”

 “So, you think this is fate.” You’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t flashed across your mind. It had, but you would never admit that out loud.

 “It’s not for me to say. What do you think?”

 “I think this is very unwelcomed. I think I don’t have the time or the energy for this. I think I don’t want these feelings. I think—I’ve never felt anything like this. I think--e’s beautiful,” you finished with a sigh.

 “What is it that you want to do?”

 You groaned because if you knew the answer to that, you wouldn’t have been calling her. You cursed and dropped back onto the floor to lay there until you’d gotten your shit together.

By the time you got to Taylor’s, you were late. You were always late. The time on your phone said he would be leaving in fifteen minutes if he hadn’t just gotten fed up and left already.

 “Welcome to Taylor’s I’m Kimmie. Do you have a reservation?”

 “Um—well, I’m meeting someone here.”

 “Okay. What’s the party’s name?”

 You looked around, making sure no one was watching then leaned closer. “Henry,” you whispered.

 “Ha, yes, he did mention he was expecting someone. I should have put two and two together. He’s a celebrity, and you’re a celebrity. Duh,” she rambled. You didn’t know if she was anxious, nervous, or if it was her normal thing. She cleared her throat and spoke again.

 “Right this way.”

 It was like she was a completely different person. You followed her through the restaurant taking note of the exits. She lead you through a set of double wooden doors that led to a whole separate side of the restaurant. This area had its lights dimmed a little lower and looked more secluded. As you approached the table, you saw him sitting near a window sipping a drink. He looked nervous; it was adorable. You couldn’t help but smile. It was then he looked your way, and the moment it sank in, you saw him release a breath as if he’d been holding it the whole time.

“Enjoy your evening,” Kimmie muttered. It was then you realized you’d been standing in front of him, not saying one word.

 “You came.” He sounded surprised.

 “I’m sorry, I’m late. My Gramaw called, and I got caught up in conversation.” It wasn’t a lie per se. You didn’t need to tell him she had to talk you off the ledge.

 Henry stood and walked to the seat diagonal from him. “It’s okay,” Henry began pulling out the seat for you. You sat and allowed him to push it in for you. “Truth be told, I would have waited past nine-thirty,” He whispered into your ear, giving you a hint of his cologne and what he was drinking in that glass. Bourbon. As he walked back to his seat, you tried to keep your thirst under control.

 “Thank you.”

 “You look very fetching,” Henry added.

 “Fetching? Oh, the English gentleman is shining through tonight I see.”

 Henry smiled widely, showing off his perfect teeth. “I’m always a gentleman.”

 “Thank you. You look very striking,” you countered. He began blushing, and that blush had a shiver rushing through you.

 “Are you all right?”

 “Yes.”

 “Got a chill did you?” You could hear the cocky in his voice. The man had every reason to be.

 “Sure did. This is pretty impressive,” you said, motioning to your surroundings.

 “You’ve never been?”

 “No. I don’t venture out a lot. I find four or five restaurants I like and stick with them.”

 “So not so adventurous, huh,” Henry surmised.

 “I’m too busy really.”

 “Ah, the life of a mogul,” Henry teased.

 “I am no mogul.”

 “I think you are, someone important,” Henry concluded.

 “Oh, I think there is more to the definition than that.”

 “Maybe you’re right. What do you call yourself?”

 “Aliya,” you joked.

 “Cute.”

 “Thanks for noticing, you teased. “I don’t think of myself the way others seem to think of me.”

 “Welcome to Taylor’s. I’m Sam. I’ll be your waiter. Can I start you guys off with drinks?”

 “I’m ahead of you by one, catch up,” Henry said, raising his glass.

 “Um, how about a Negroni?”

 “Coming up,” Sam said before he walked away.

 “Another Guinness?”

 “No, Bourbon,” Henry corrected. The way he said it sound so prime and proper. He sounded better than James Bond himself.

 “Oh, Bourbon man too?”

 “Tell me,” Henry urged as he sat back in his seat.

 “Bourbon dry, hmmm. Only rich men drink it like that. Or men who come from money. They say the ice ruins the flavor of it, so they prefer to have it the way it’s intended. You’re sophisticated, fun, intelligent, and you value honesty and things right between the eyes. You don’t like games, and always know what you want. You might even be difficult and used to getting your own way and don’t know what to do when someone goes against it.”

 His smile was so telling. You’d gotten it completely right.

 “I do like getting my way,” he confirmed.

“I know.”

 “What about you?”

 “I usually get what I want. I’ve never had anyone not give me what I want,” you said. Henry laughed loudly.

 “I bet.”

 “What does that mean?”

 “Sadly, men do not know how to go against a pretty face,” Henry clarified.

 You stifled your laugh, letting out only a snort. “So that’s all you see when you look at me? A pretty face?”

 The waiter came back just in time with your drinks. Henry looked speechless. He asked if you guys were ready to place your orders, but neither of you had even looked at the menu. When he left promising to be back in a little while, Henry spoke.

 “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to.”

 “I’m not offended,” you said before you sipped your drink and moaned as the flavors filled your mouth. “This is good.”

 “When I look at you, I don’t see a pretty face.”

 “Oh no? So my face is ugly?”

 “No!” He cleared his throat, then began again. “You’re very beautiful.”

 “So just a pretty face then.”

 He looked so flustered you wanted to bust out laughing. The longer you continued this teasing, you knew you’d end up laughing in his face. It was cute how panicked he looked.

 “Aliya, you are drop-dead gorgeous. There is no lie about that, no mistaking it or looking past it. When I look at you, I see something I’m drawn to. There is something about you, this aura. I get the sense that you’re down to Earth, kind, smarter than anyone knows and deeply a good person.”

 As you sipped your drink again, you smiled on the glass. He had a way with words for sure.

 “You are good under pressure.”

 “Was that a test?”

 You shrugged with a smile on your face. “ If it was, you passed.”

 Again Henry laughed and shook his head; he didn’t look angry though.

 Throughout dinner, the conversation never stopped. You talked about everything from his family to acting and the experiences you both had in the industry. The longer you talked, the more you realized you had plenty of things in common. You laughed at all his jokes, but not because you felt like you had to, he was genuinely funny. Every time he spoke, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his mouth, which led you to look at his neck and the peeks of hair on his chest. Your fingers tingled from the want to touch. You could listen to him talk all night. It was an exciting revelation, and you were interested in what other revelations you’d have before the night was through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[heli0s-writes]

II. Solipsis

Summary: Rogers isn’t stupid. Quite the opposite, he’s incredibly perceptive and remarkably intelligent.

It doesn’t matter how you feel about him or how you feel about this situation; there’s only two weeks to let it go. Both of you must relinquish every individual sentiment to each other and obey the system or else the neural handshake collapses and you’re crushed inside a Kaiju’s maw.

A/N: Video reference for Greco-Roman Wrestling. Please do yourself a favor and imagine Steve Rogers owning your ass. 7.8k words.

Warnings: Language. Bucky angst. Tension.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

You wake around 0500 and flip on the light—a jaundiced splash of color that makes your skin gleam sickeningly yellow. You shake your head, rub your eyes, and try not to linger on last night’s dream.

Lashing rain. A metal shriek. Your world bursting with red.

There’s movement outside the hall—appreciated distractions to rouse you from your thoughts. Footsteps, wheels on smooth concrete, muffled alarms, all sorts of noises clanging around together in the distance. Small comforts of familiarity; you remember how these facilities work.

There’s always something to improve in a Shatterdome. Data to analyze, parts to product and repair, training to be done. From the highest to the lowest position, every single bit needs to run tirelessly like a well-oiled machine.

You will need to as well. The war clock demands it.

You have a maximum of two months to be combat-ready, but you’re not pitching your hopes on that timeline; Kaiju have been known to emerge earlier than K-Science predicts. Rogers broke it down last night: evaluations and endurance building the first week. Sparring the next. Week three will intertwine both more intensely. Week four will be when you face him in front of Fury in the Kwoon Room—prove yourself well-suited to be his co-pilot.

And you had argued shouldn’t we do that earlier? If we’re already not compatible, why waste anyone’s time?

What would waste my time is you fighting me when you’re not ready and throwing the match. You agreed to this, so start acting like it.

Out of all the rattling noises you can hear, his phantom voice rings the loudest.

Drift compatibility doesn’t happen for just any Dick and Jane, and you’re betting on that—but let me tell you again, we’re compatible. Got it?

Fine. Fine. Fine. You’ll keep your thoughts to yourself, but they’re bitter thoughts, truths that he isn’t keen on facing. No, compatibility doesn’t happen for any Dick and Jane. It doesn’t happen much at all.

Most co-pilots are related or coupled for a reason. The potential for alignment is higher with these pairs because they’ve already established a personal connection and know how one another work. There’s history, trust, and something more. Something deep and intrinsic. Something that binds you until you die.

You used to joke that you and Natasha got lucky finding each other at Kodiak. Two misplaced orphans finally given a home in the shape of Decima Red’s Conn-Pod. It was metal and cold, but it was home, even if it was too brief.

Three minutes after waking and the dread has already settled in your gut like debris floating to the bottom of a lake— another layer on top of all that old sludge inside your body but there’s no time to ponder it. You have precisely one hour after breakfast to let your food settle before he joins you in the Combat Room. You brush your teeth and dress.

-

“Again.”

His voice cracks through the quiet space. Fury’s closed it down for today, keeping the session private. The staff in his right hand hovers above your shoulder before it retreats. From behind a wet curl of hair, you glare.

It’s 2015 and you’re back in Kodiak Island. Except this time, instead of sparring with Nat, Steve Rogers is there in all his effortless glory. Clean-shaven, jaw set, stoic, not a single hair out of place. Ruthless.

And it’s not like you’ve been slacking these past two years; you’ve been on army bases, worked on construction sites, did a short stint in security. You’re in shape and you remember how to fight.

But he is ruthless.

1300 and you’ve been whacked in the head, chest, thighs, ankles, back, and up and down both arms. You’ve gotten a few on him. Some good, most laughable. Only six more hours to go and you’re not sure if there will be lunch in-between.

At this point, you’re too tired to think about your burdensome conscience. Too tired to feel anything but tired. It must be a purposeful tactic from him because the less capable you are to think, the less you’ll worry, and the less you’ll feel inclined to dive into Victoria Harbor and swim yourself away.

“Is this your idea of a partnership?” You snarl when your side contracts in agony, an ache burrowing beneath your soaked shirt. You grasp the staff firmly, ignoring way the muscles of your wrists beg you to stop.

“This is my idea of an evaluation. Focus.” He says it calmly, like you’re supposed to be grateful. “You’ll be better for it tomorrow. In a month, you won’t even recognize yourself.”

Well, you’re not grateful. 

“I’d rather not recognize you.”

His grip falters, features flashing amusement at your comment.

You momentarily ponder a few things: the pros and cons being insolent again on the second day when he’s liberally kicking your ass; that the last memorable thing you said to Steve Rogers was fuck you three times in a row; and suddenly, the way he looks with the corner of his mouth turned upward, lips slanting.

Moment over. You take the opening and the tip of your staff stops half an inch from his Adam’s apple, letting it bob up and down. Then, you press it gently to his throat. His lips part, jaw sliding forward incrementally with attitude and another emotion you can’t place.

“I’m hungry,” you assert.

He stops breathing and closes his mouth. When he opens it again, he takes a shallow breath and says, “Alright.”

Taking advantage of your surprise, he immediately seizes the same opportunity you took. His staff pushes against the side of your neck, the cool, smooth wood landing on the slope connecting to your shoulder. The slant of his mouth grows an inch wider. You gulp at the crescent shape of his eyes, bright with mirth.

“Hit the showers,” he says, passive again, “You have one hour for lunch.”

-

No such luck. Not even twenty minutes pass before someone else fucks up your day.

Across the table, a man sits down with his tray, smile wide and handsome. He’s been watching you from the corner of his eye for a few minutes now, probably wondering if he should come over. Other residents of the Shatterdome have been equally inquisitive, but none as bold.

“Saw you go into the fight room with the big guy. I’m surprised you’re alive.” His head tilts forward as he inspects you playfully, “I’m Sam Wilson.”

You remember your manners, no matter how exhausted you are, and extend your hand, “Good to meet you, Sam Wilson, but I’m not sure about being alive yet.”

An understanding laugh, “Can’t help noticing you’re new. Steve training you for something?”

You shrug, sidestepping his inquiry, “You a pilot?”

Sam Wilson is polite enough to follow your path. “Yeah. Avis Dominion—the flyest girl in the game—that’s me and Riley.”

You know of Avis Dominion. Maroon and silver, propulsion rockets attached to her ankles. She doesn’t fly, of course, but she’s lithe and graceful, the jets giving her quick bursts of speed. Avis has particle dispersal cannons on her back, firing plasma charged ion rails to wound and cauterize. She’s simply incredible, and Sam beams expectantly.

“Think I’ve heard of her,” you respond, lightened by his humor.

Suddenly, a pair of heavy bootsteps pulls your attention sideways. Not even twenty minutes and Rogers is marching forward, hands clenched in fists by his side, mouth pressed into a worried and thin line. Wilson doesn’t even have the chance to greet him before Rogers stops by your hunched-over form.

“He’s up.”

And the partly chewed bite in your mouth threatens to turn sour.

He’s up means he wants to talk to you. And you couldn’t have avoided it forever, but you fantasized that meeting James Barnes might be put off indefinitely.

He’d been in and out of consciousness since last night, lucid enough to speak and question his state, enough to raise hell when he looked down at his left side, and certainly enough to thrash himself open and bloody and needing to be sedated again.

You run your hand through your hair, grip it tightly for a second out of frustration, and finally rise. You’re an eloquent orator in a pinch, so, you groan.

“Fucking fuck me.”

-

Back at the table, Steve’s attention never leaves the way you uncomfortably walk down the hall. To his left, Sam’s leg bounces impatiently because Bucky’s injury still hasn’t been announced and CNN has called the facility every six hours since they landed post-battle. Everyone has questions and suspicions, and Sam’s last three minutes of snooping wasn’t enough to glean a clear answer.

“Steve, man—what is going on?”

Steve looks gravely back at Sam, watchfully inspecting his expression as he admits, “That was Decima Red’s former pilot.”

A beat passes. Sam blinks once, then twice, and then his eyes fly open.

“Decim—shit— Anchorage 2017? Natasha Romanoff?” Sam clamps his mouth shut, at a loss for words, outraged and impressed all at once.

Decima Red’s story is one of those tales Rangers pass around a campfire—or in their case, a boiler room. Natasha Romanoff was a stiletto dagger— elegant and lethal and blood red. She would show up to events like a goddess, always stunning and magnetic and she never took a bad picture. Sam met her once, at some award show where he had too much champagne and Riley asked him to kindly stop drooling on the pretty lady.

He’s never met her co-pilot until now and he’s not sure if anyone outside The Icebox has. Romanoff would laugh it off when reporters would ask. She’d say her partner’s camera shy and doesn’t like crowds. Then her long lashes would flutter, her sly smile glittering, and men would drop like Kaiju in the ocean.

She was extraordinarily skilled and beautiful.

So when Decima Red washed up as a devastated heap on Anchorage’s shore with only one pilot, no one thought it would be her partner who survived. Romanoff handled the right side, after all. She was the dominant one. The stronger one.

Sam shakes his head, “Steve, what the hell are you up to? Where the hell did you find her? How--”

The slew of queries slowly tapers out as Sam lights up in understanding. But it’s a joyless light and he shakes his head again, dismayed. “You’re recruiting her. She’s replacing Barnes.”

“Yeah,” Steve frowns deeply. The truth always sounds worse from an outsider’s point of view but he didn’t expect much else because it sounds bad in his head, too.

“He’s gonna hate her,” Sam mutters, cracking a joke because if Steve’s had to bring in a new Ranger, it means that Bucky’s more hurt than they’d thought. And the two of them? Closest co-pilots he’s ever had the pleasure to meet.

Their drift was immaculate. Absolutely seamless. As if they were brothers—as if they were twins. And that’s not even – look, Sam Wilson knows some twins. There’s a pair here in Hong Kong and even their connection is nothing like Steve and Bucky’s.

From the moment they step into their drivesuits to the very last blow they land in combat, you’d think they were one single person spliced into two like a damn science fiction novel. The simple sight of Rogers and Barnes walking into the Jaeger bay was uncanny and nearly an act of God. They moved the same. They breathed the same.

Sam knows what happened to Bucky, and what Steve must do in its aftermath, must be killing him.

-

James Barnes is upright in bed, sheets around his waist, right fist over his thigh. He hasn’t said anything or even looked at you yet and in the strained silence, you find yourself absurdly craving the fight room. At least you know what to expect in there.

Outside of his Ranger biography—which is public knowledge—you know nothing about him. Barnes is reserved on T.V. and in interviews. Having grown up with his co-pilot, their biographies are eerily similar, and so he rarely slips out from Rogers’ shadow and is rarely anything more than stoic. He smiles for the camera, sure—real big and pretty—but never quite true.

It unsettles you. Here sits some kind of modern-day Achilles, heel pierced and torn through-- still more powerful than you.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other when his eyes flicker over to your boots before darting to your face, a quiet breath leaves him. His left shoulder jerks and you look away, tense and apprehensive, not wanting to stare.

A few curious seconds pass before his right hand shakily rises to run through his hair. His fingers tremble as he pinches dark strands, jaw ticking, and you realize James Barnes just had that moment—that moment—when he catches himself trying to use his left arm.

And you know there will be many more of those.

“Jesus...” he mutters, breaking reticence with a venomous hiss, “Fuck!”

Your tired body takes the impact of his words like a car crash. The fight has fled your heart at the sight of him and you’re left regurgitating all those jumbled-up-worse words every Jaeger pilot vomits sooner or later:

You owe a debt. You need it paid. He can’t take it personally. This is neither about you nor him.

“Look,” you begin apologetically, “I didn’t— this wasn’t my idea.”

“I know that,” Barnes retorts, scrubbing his face with the heel of his palm, the skin of it scratching against his chin and jaw. He’s grown a bit of stubble, his usual smoothness replaced by a grey-green shadow. He props himself up with his right arm, legs swinging over the edge of the bed.

“Maybe you don’t think you can do this,” he snorts derisively, “But you better.”

His line of sight is fixed on the floor, right arm flexing with the pressure he exerts on the poor mattress and you watch the way his muscles ripple up into the shade of his sleeve. When he turns to you after a deep breath, his face—sharp cheeks and dignified brow; tall, straight nose bridge; strong jaw and his distinctly wide lips—is fatal.

“Personally, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who gets into the robot as long as when your fucking feet hit the rig, you’re one-hundred-percent in.”

Barnes’ eyes are piercingly blue. They’re reflective like frosted gunmetal. Cold.  Hard. He bares his teeth.

“If there is even one tiny bit of you that doesn’t believe you can, and in the middle of the drift you chase that rabbit, and you get him killed?” His mouth is a wide and devastating slant. “I will dig your corpse out of the Pacific Ocean--”

The door slams open with a crash. Rogers barrels inside with a cafeteria tray of food in hand. They stare at each other before Barnes shoots him an annoyed look and suddenly the threat from only seconds ago disappears with a blink of his silver-blue irises.

“You ruined my moment, Steve.” He states plainly, grabbing at the tray. He gives you a look— half of an amused quirk, tongue flicking at the point of his canines— and then tucks into the meal, moving the platter with his knee. You’re staggered.

It’s silent other than the sound of his chewing, rhythmic and carefree. He even folds a square bit of napkin inside the neck of his shirt to catch crumbs and you’re helplessly trying to reconcile that this is the same person who just promised you he’d find your dead body 10 thousand miles underwater.

The more time passes between his verbal gutting and his cheerful eating, the more your sympathy rots.

A pop of his blue Jello container opening and you snap.

“You know I just fucking got here, right? You—” your finger jabs accusingly at Rogers, “kicked my ass all day, and you—” your finger turns to Barnes, who stops slurping midway, “—sorry about your arm, that’s not my fucking fault—"

“Hey—” Rogers warns, stepping forward, hand out to derail the impending shouting match.

“No. Fuck you, Rogers.” He stumbles back with the force of your two-handed push on his chest, stunned at how quickly you leapt from the wall, “I agreed to it already, assholes. Maybe it’ll help your cause a little to not keep pissing off the other half of the fucking robot.”

And because you’re both incensed and starved from having lunch interrupted, you yank Barnes’ Jello from his shocked-slax grip and shake it into your mouth. A loud crinkle fills the otherwise silent room when you fiercely throw it into the trash bin and stomp off.

All the atmosphere gets eaten up by your temper. It’s silent like a black hole, nothing but the receding clomps of your irritation in the distance.

Bucky waits for your footsteps to pass before he begins to laugh, bright and astounded, quick puffs of air passing over his lips. He looks at his hand, still out in front of his chest, fingers curled around nothing. He looks at the trash bin by the door, plastic liner crumpled inward with the force of your arm.

He looks at Steve, standing with his hands uselessly by his side, an array of emotions passing over his face. He’d been calm—really, really calm—kept it pushed down and pacified, but it’s just the two of them now, and Steve looks like he could cry when he sees Bucky’s shoulder. He looks like he could level the Shatterdome.

“I’m fine.” Bucky says, rolling his eyes dramatically, humor gone. “Quit your blubbering.” He tilts his head towards the open door, “She’s tough, like you said.”

Decima Red’s pilot, the one who brought her skeleton back to Anchorage through a storm, of course she’d be. When Steve proposed it— explained it to him, practically wheeled out a chalkboard so Bucky could see his whole plan—Bucky was pissed. He’d just lost a fucking arm, after all. And now he was losing his fucking robot. 

But he slept on it, thought about it some, knew Steve was right.

He trusted Steve. Always have, always will. Whoever Steve decided on needed to be more than just tough. Steve needed reliability. Conviction.

They needed to match that Rogers persistence. Stubborn. Smart. Torn open by guilt and walking around with the world on their shoulders as if it’s their burden alone.

Yeah. It’s perfect.

Bucky looks at the blue specks of Jello clinging to his fingertips and sighs, “You’re gonna have to break her.”

Steve nods. He knows.

-

Time blurs as routine gives way to monotony.  

Your sanity is precariously tethered to lunches and dinners between psych evals and full-body exams. In the two weeks you’ve been here, maybe there’s been one rest day. You hoard what comfort you can from the time you limp from the fight room to the second your back hits the mattress to the bedside alarm blaring. 

Ephemeral relief also trickles in by way of conversations with other inhabitants of the facility.

The rest of Hong Kong’s STRIKE team take to your presence well enough. Co-pilots Wilson and Riley; the Maximoff twins, Wanda and Pietro; cousins from Wakanda, Erik and T’Challa; Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki.

They’re supportive and encouraging, but certainly not naïve. They keep their distance, the entire thing like a caged animal they can view, but not interact with wholly. You’re here as James Barnes’ tentative replacement, still just a prospect before anyone can entertain the idea of becoming attached to you.

Not to mention, you’re a deserter. Fucked off from the Ranger life and went off the grid. Most co-pilots died together—which was the honorable thing to do—and the rare few who are unlucky enough to survive at least come back to their Shatterdomes to continue their righteous work. You understand why they’re guarded.

Sam Wilson is the one person most willing to ignore all that, it seems. He hunts you down in the dining hall, finds you on morning runs, is kind and easy-going. He grabs an extra tray when you’re hobbling into lunch and plays basketball with you when you’re well enough to amble around the court.

He keeps you grounded with reminders: Rogers is a hard ass, but look—past that, he’s just a dude, you know? Trying his best to keep it all together—and there’s a lot to keep. Shit… you seen this place. I couldn’t do it.

The whole world wants to suck his dick, Wilson. You too?

Appreciate you, but man’s not my type. But hey, I’m just sayin’—maybe the world’s onto something.

You get a laugh, and you get to complain to at least one sympathetic ear about how Rogers seems adamant on turning you into a blood bag, or how Barnes is gleefully spectating, or how Fury is willfully ignorant. You get at least one person in your corner when Rogers yells at you for mouthing off—for fighting him in a wrong way—again.

You wish you were jogging the perimeter with Sam now, but this morning there’s only persistent torture.

Apparently today is, once again, exclusively about kicking your ass.

The rules are: no kicks, no punches, nothing below the waist. Traditional wrestling only, which means your hands can barely get halfway around him before he takes you to the mat effortlessly.  

All morning you’ve been pinned. Shoulders and waist constantly under his palms, flipped sideways and upside down. His reach is longer. His hold is stronger.

Barnes stands against the wall, shoulder in a sling, observing with amusement. Sometimes he clucks his tongue. Other times he smirks. He walks in and out like he’s at the movies. Fucker.

You cuss when you land on the mat for the hundredth time. The wet smear of your forehead glistens when you roll over, clutching your side. You’d woken up this morning feeling alright, taking to heart some of Sam’s advice, attempting to be understanding a little more each day, but with the way this session’s going, you’re headed for a backslide.

Your legs are shaking. Too hot all over even with your pants rolled up and shirt knotted at your hip. You plant your feet stubbornly, pacing around Rogers. A touch too soon, a weave too late. He slams you on the floor.

“This is—fuck!” you scream, “—a fucking unbalanced fight, Rogers!”

“I know,” he responds from above you, a single bead of sweat collecting on his placid brow. He gets up, yanking you along, and watches you try again. 

Two seconds pass before he’s hooked, biceps locking beneath your chest, spinning you through the air, and coming down hard on top of your back. Another crash into the mat, another muffled scream of pure, helpless rage.

You’ve had it. It’s been hours of his domination and your humiliation. You’re done with wrestling and done with him. Your knees and hips dig into the plastic, fury stoking the fight, fully intending on throwing him off but he shifts immediately. His chest presses into your spine, thigh flexed diagonal over both of yours.

“Don’t.” He says, shallow breaths heavy over the top of your head.

“Get off me, asshole! You’re too fucking big to wrestle with—I’m not Barnes!”

Rogers only grunts and bears down until you’re motionless and gasping beneath him. The air is hot, too hot. Scorching waves roll from your body, between his chest and your back, scalding with heat and embarrassment.

Your cheek drives into the plastic, burning with submission. Early stinging of pre-emptive tears prickles your eyes as frustration comes to a head, seizing your body and mind, and you feel up to your throat in despair. Anger makes you want to thrash but weakness makes you obedient. There’s nothing to be done but clench your fists and bite it back, swallow the tears, chew your lip bloody.

He is too big and too strong and too overpowering.

It was different wrestling with Natasha; you were closer in size and well-matched. It was a good recreation of what Kaiju combat may be if ranged weapons were to fail. She’d be the Kaiju, you the Jaeger. Then you’d switch. It felt like preparation.

This doesn’t. This feels like a setup for failure. This feels like a lesson.

And suddenly, you shut your eyes. God damn him. God damn him. God damn him.

Allowing insight to cool your temper, you stop resisting and go slack. Your fists unclench, head dropping to lay on your sweat-slick forearm. Surrender vibrates through your chest, tremors undulating to the rhythm of his breathing. 

You’ve figured it out. 

Rogers lets off some pressure and you can finally take a good breath. Slowly, he moves. His weight carries to one side of his torso, then his knees and he rocks off you, rising.

His hand splays over your shoulder blade, thumb pushing gently against the back of your neck before he hoists you up by the collarbone. It’s a delicate grasp as opposed to his previous ones. Calloused finger pads avoid the bruising on your shoulder from old hits.

Barnes looks on as his hand curls over your bicep, melting around the shape of your muscles, vice-like but merciful. The heat of your body becomes indistinguishable from his as he props you securely.

“You understand?” He asks gently, “Why it’s an unbalanced fight?”

His brow furrows, earnest blue eyes respectfully apologetic, searching yours for acknowledgement and perhaps forgiveness. You press your lips together tightly.

Of course you do.

He’s breaking you piece by piece until you’re malleable and pliant, willing to surrender your ego and give yourself over to a force much larger than your personal reality. You haven’t vocalized rebellion since the second day, and many days have passed, but it’s obvious how you struggle against the current.

Rogers isn’t stupid. Quite the opposite, he’s incredibly perceptive and remarkably intelligent.

It doesn’t matter how you feel about him or how you feel about this situation; there’s only two weeks to let it go. You can’t hold onto your pride, your resentment, or your reservations about any of it in the con-pod, and you can’t have one single fleeting thought about failure.

Both of you must relinquish every individual sentiment to each other and obey the system or else the neural handshake collapses and you’re crushed inside a Kaiju’s maw.

Barnes was right: you’re either one hundred percent in, or you’ll get him killed. So in today’s simulation, no, you’re not the Jaeger and Rogers isn’t the Kaiju.

He is the drift. It’s equal parts cruel and effective.

Today’s session is a reminder. When you fight the drift, it will take you down hard and fast, there’s no changing that. Only in silence will it support you, and only in silence will it keep you alive.

“Do you understand?” He says again, in a whisper. His lips are parted, turned down solemnly. “You can’t push back. Do you understand?”

Sam Wilson’s petition for Steve Rogers’ character echoes.

He’s just a dude. Trying his best to keep it all together. And there’s a lot to keep.

You manage a nod despite the aching throb of your skull. Shame crawls up your arms, erupting beneath the clutch of his fist. You nod. You’ve learned your lesson. Of course you understand.

-

After that, everything seem to flatten itself out. You heed Sam’s words, bitterness chipping away in the patient flow of Rogers’ direction until it becomes smooth like a time-worn pebble. You no longer fight the slipstream of your situation and rather become more mindful of his labor-- more appreciative.

You can either be a fatalist and fixate on how much you’d rather not be here, or, like he said, you can get on board.

If Barnes is a modern-day Achilles, Rogers might as well be the Hercules. Some radiant demi-god tasked with backbreaking labours in the form of beast-slaying. Unlike Hercules though, he’s all mortal, burdened even worse with mortal toils.

You might as well not be yet another thing that gets him killed in the end. It’d be further hell on your conscience and Barnes would personally scalp you, anyway.

So you iron out your attitude and grow friendly, and on a Thursday morning, he shows up with his hands tucked into his pockets. Barnes is to his side, matching in posture, his new prosthetic arm gleaming black and gold.

“Ready?”

They walk in conjunction. Left foot, right foot, hips following a perfect cadence.

His blonde head turns back at you with an expectant grin, “You excited?”

A snort, “You’ve dangled it in front of me for weeks. What do you want to hear, huh?”

There’s no offense in your words, only a hint of mischief because you’ve discovered the joy taunting him brings. Amusement in the form of riling him up because he’s surprisingly easy to rile, because there’s many ways to do it, and because you’re a damn fast learner.

Steve Rogers might be athletic and quick, but he’s terrible at guarding his legs. It makes his cheeks flush when you repeatedly strike his thighs and even more so when Barnes cackles from the corner. It’s infinitely better than any entertainment you can buy.

He gets you back, though, biding his time until your jogs, then laps you twice to keep you humble. The best kinds of friendships are built off torment, besides. You’re hopeful.

“I’m not convinced you’re excited,” he sings now, stopping abruptly so that you bump into his back with a grunt of surprise.

Barnes smirks, “He gets you every time. It’s sad.” Cheeky bastards, but they pick up the pace again, threading through the hallways.

They’re finally taking you on a proper tour of the Shatterdome. Four weeks and you still need a map to get around. They’ve kept you from wandering, kept others from being your guide, kept you on your fucking toes because they’re absolute little shits.

It’s friendship.

The first stop is the enormous Jaeger hangar. 

Stretching on and back, it’s a mess of moving parts and electricity. Cranes up and down, engineers and workers in constant motion. They walk you across the main bridge of the perimeter, taking leisurely steps to let you catch your dazed breath and absorb the view. 

The anticipation was clever provocation on his part, created in jest, but the sight of it now in front of you feels like a kick to the teeth. Your teasing demeanor drops.

The Mark-3’s are beautiful despite their conditions. Scratched and dented, wind-bleached in places, but all gorgeous and exclusively equipped to best fit their Rangers. Titanium cores, angel wings, plasma casters. Assault mount sting-blades, K-Stunner warheads, sentry treads. The list of features running on and on and on.

Unique traits for unique pilots.

Pain strikes your heart.

Decima’s Crocus-9 reactor core was uranium powered and instead of angel wings or blades, she had extendable plasma batons. You and Natasha amputated six Kaiju with them. A 1700-ton ballerina, she was created to fit your partnership’s style— brutal but dexterous. The fight was always good in Decima—always, always, good.

You’ll never have that with Orion. You’ll never have that with Rogers.

In the distance, voices shout and echo over gears and metal joints. Forklifts whirr and beep, personnel scrambling like dedicated worker ants.

Two years without Decima and Natasha. Over seven hundred days and each one felt too long, stretched, infinite, miserable. Waking up was just another twenty-four hours to bury like how you buried Nat. But now, here you stand—returned to the front of the continued Jaeger Program that’s moved on without her, and the last two years comes to crush you in a tidal wave all at once.

You feel powerless, distraughtly wishing you were back in your Jaeger. You wish you were stronger than you are— wish you could take on the tidal wave.

“Hey,” Barnes calls, urging you forward his perceptive, sharp eyes. “Stay with us.”

You quell the hurt and keep up.

At the end of the ramp, Tony Stark teeters on a crane. His face is covered by a thick iron mask and he’s welding something tiny on Orion Bravo’s left flank. Over the banging machinery and screeching blades of metal on metal, he yells, “Good to finally meet you, kid!”

You don’t get a chance to holler back. 

“Gotta say, Decima was one of my personal favorites,” and you flinch.

Nobody notices. Life moves on. Tony Stark does so even faster. 

“Still damn proud of her after all these years! I know exactly where she is in Oblivion Bay—if this—” he gestures vaguely to the three of you on the walkway, “—doesn’t work out, let me know and I can go get your girl. Sure, her chest’s all ripped out—” he motions to his pecs, and you recoil each time his blowtorch sizzles past, “—and I’d be breaking my back to get those pieces right— but hey, a little boob job isn’t gonna hurt anyone. If you ask me, people could use more of ‘em!”

You’re speechless. You finally meet the Tony Stark—the genius mind behind every single Jaeger. His endless vat of brilliance designed them, breathed them to life, equipped and armed them, made them perfect, and— boob job?

“What?” You whisper, feeling your entire body drain of warmth.

Rogers tucks his chin to his chest in an attempt to hide his smile. Barnes speaks up, dismantling the silence of your shock with strategic and considerate intention. He snorts a clipped sound at Stark and says simply, “He’s on speed. Don’t listen to him.”

Life is moving on all around you in rushes of sound and color. The noises of the Jaeger hangar blare in your ears. The blues of Barnes and Rogers’ eyes flash like lighthouse beams and you feel yourself ebb and flow in the current of time, like a buoy floating toward the shore, and suddenly— strangely— you realize you’re laughing.

They share looks before grinning themselves. You wipe the corners of your eyes with a final smirk and run your hands through your hair.

-

He was right: you hardly recognize yourself. Monotony has come and pass and now you find comfort in the routine. You’re stronger, too, hitting harder and moving faster, matching his tempo and technique. You parry his every punch, slip from his grasp, deflect his force with your skill.

There’s louder talk in the Shatterdome the closer you get to proving day. Your presence no longer feels uncertain.

“Stop dicking around, Steve.”

Barnes is leaning against the wall, watching the way Rogers pads around you like a panther. Two long strides and the heavy staff comes down an inch away from your forehead. He spins it in one hand like a drumstick, kicking his legs leisurely as if you’re no threat at all.

“Point,” Barnes comments. He’s acting as judge today, another perspective on the potential of compatibility. The Kwoon Room’s got your name on it next to a time slot, the official fight scheduled for tomorrow when you’ll be proving yourself in front of a crowd.

Rogers backs up with a chuckle, goes right too carefully, and you land on his thigh in retaliation. The smack sounds like it hurts. A few feet away, the Maximoff twins pause their sparring to look over in amusement.

“Point.”

A huff, he hisses between his teeth at the sting. “This how you wanna play?”

A return whack on your arm rings out before you can respond- much harder than you hit him originally. It burns. Steve fucking Rogers. Oh, you wanna play.

“Point. Hey, careful.”

You slap his bicep with your staff and it leaves a red welt on his skin.

“Watch it. You’re gonna mark each other up.”

He returns it to your lower back and you hit him next in the same spot. His mouth opens indignantly, but Barnes has had enough of childishness, coming up behind him and yanking the back of his head. Quick as a whip, he kicks Rogers’ knees out and picks up the weapon, aiming it at you menacingly.

His arm glimmers like a warning beacon.

“Drop it, sweetheart.” And you grin. 

Sweetheart. Barnes only says it when he’s feeling fully annoyed, which, both you and Rogers are particularly good at making him. If drift compatibility could be determined by how much two people can piss off another one, Orion would be looking at a new pilot right the fuck now.

You put both hands up in the air in mock surrender and he rolls your staff away with his foot. Rogers is on his back, chuckling and rubbing the back of his knees.

“Isn’t it obvious the two of you are suited?” Wanda speaks up from the corner.

Pietro stands by her side, fists wrapped in bandages on his hips. “Three of you, truly.”

“It’s just formality,” Rogers replies to Wanda, “Fury wants what he wants.”

“What Fury wants is for the two of you to get in the robot.”

From the shadows, because he’s a dramatic son of a bitch, the marshal steps forward. You immediately fix your posture, pulling Rogers up by the hand until he stretches himself tall next to you.

“I’ve seen what I needed to see.” The marshal looks you up and down, standing stiffly next to your awaiting co-pilot. “An estimated three weeks before the next breach and time is of the essence, Rangers.” He pulls his wrist from his sleeve and taps on the leather watch rhythmically, not bothering to give any of you another glance as he sweeps himself from the room.

“Hangar. Suit up five minutes ago.”

In his wake, your harried expression says it all: I’m not ready—I don’t think can. Your eyes frantically find them, emotions spiraling out of control, panicked and shaken. There is a logic to formality—you’re still working yourself up for the fight. You were supposed to have more time to prepare for the next part. Twelve hours or not, that’s still time.

But you’re being thrown into the cockpit now.

They compose themselves for your sake, all hints of levity gone. There’s determination and severity in their expressions.

In unison, because they know each other in ways you don’t yet, because they’ve been in each other’s heads, two pairs of controlled blue reply: You can. You must.

-

Rogers stares at your chin in the Drivesuit room, both stripped down to your underwear. His muscles are sweat-slick, dappled rose with exertion as the two of you shove your limbs into new skin until you’re encased in black circuitry. Technicians zip the first layer up, then retreat to other cabinets with haste.

Your hands are balled into fists, mouth set grimly as you fight the urge to scream or crumble. It’s been two years since you’ve been in battle armor. Even worse, it’s been two years since you’ve been in someone else’s head.

The polycarbonate shell gets snapped on. The spinal clamp sinks its hooks in. 

He steps forward, geared up in matching polished white. The technicians nod and leave the two of you to privacy knowing that in just a few moments there will be none left; the entire hangar will be an audience.

“Hey,” he calls, voice low and rigid, “You’ve done this before—you know how it works. It’s just a test run. No rabbits. No modesty reflex. Got it?”

The biggest setback to the neural handshake—besides chasing rabbits—mistakes made by rookies and greener Rangers, are what PPDC psychologists call the “modesty reflex”. It’s the instinctive shielding of personal information during a drift, cluttering your thoughts with barriers to keep someone out, and the exact thing that will shut down any chance of alignment. 

Simply put, it’s about sex.

“You just eye-fucked me in there. I think we’re past modesty.” A useless attempt at a joke to soothe your rattled mind. Sex is the lowest on the totem pole of things you give a fuck about in the drift. There’s nothing Rogers could learn about you that he likely hasn’t ever thought or experienced for himself. You’re both adults. Sex is merely biology.

He takes the helmets off their stands, holding one to you. Your fingers curl underneath and press tightly into the molding to keep themselves from shaking.

“It’s Tasha,” you whisper with a tremble, “I’ll find her in the drift. And—”

The admission makes him swallow, thick and nervous. You mean to say, and you’ll find Barnes.

It’s a trauma that’s been seared into his brain—a cruel truth to air—but it’s true all the same. The worry is that once you see Nat, he’ll see Barnes, and you’re afraid that after all this time avoiding her memory, you won’t be able to let her go again. Your weakness will dislodge his focus, ruin the drift, tear apart the alignment. Tear yourself apart along with it.

You’re afraid.

He’s still holding onto the other side of your helmet. His grip is tighter and firmer, and it keeps you steady enough.

“You can’t chase her,” he urges, “But if you do, I’ll come find you.”

He sounds sure, and you nod for both your sakes.

-

A hundred people stand in wait, hands on their hips in anticipation as Steve enters the cockpit with you by his side. Sparse clapping begins behind the glass. Engineers, flight crew, technicians, Rangers. Bucky is next to the LOCCENT officer, Shuri, at her monitors, watching electrical impulse levels rise and fall.

He’s spent all month with you, mentoring in some ways, giving space in others. He meant it on that god-awful hospital bed—get Steve killed and Bucky’s wrath would move heaven and earth to wreak vengeance. Steven Grant Rogers, his whole life being Bucky’s responsibility, now placed into two hands that are not his.

He looks at his left arm, the Stark-made prosthetic leering up at him like an excruciating reminder. Not his. Not his. He looks to the blue screen, projecting lines of data. Two bodies slowly arranging into one. One similar, one—not his.

He wants to trust you. He’s learning to trust you. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth.

-

The rig locks in place. Feet, shoulders, arms, backs. It’s comforting and jarring, facing the flickering projections of the heads-up display, seeing the skeleton of Orion Bravo so similar yet so alien from Decima’s. You don’t dare look to your right, don’t dare think about Nat’s face over his.

You miss her, god damn it, you miss her. A panicked breath. A low, quiet, whine you hardly register as yourself.

Shuri’s voice comes over the speaker. Her usual cheery tone has been replaced with firmer speech, all business, “Orion, are you ready?”

Rogers mouths calm down and punches the corresponding buttons. He gives you a nod and you return it in good faith. Calm down.

“Initiating Neural Handshake in three—” Shuri activates the system, “—two—” Electricity shoots up your spinal column.

The first rip of immersion is searing hot and freezing cold. You try to remind yourself you’ve done this before, that you know what to expect. It’s been done—yes—and it’s been done well.

Trust the drift. The drift is silence.

Your thoughts subdue as the first tendrils of Steve’s consciousness bleed into yours in the form of red-bricked alleyway and summertime. There’s a sweet breeze rushing over your face before time slows and the seconds stretch into years.

A silver bicycle. His feet on the metal pegs. Barnes, plump-faced and pink-nosed from sunshine, grinning and whooping. Seven and eight. On top off the world.  “—two—“

Past and present cease to exist. You’re in the sun, too. They’re older now. Thirteen, fourteen. Bruised from street fighting, sharing popsicles as both a treat and an icepack.

All at once, it comes. 

Art school, army, academy. Graduation, first drift, first drop. Barnes by his side every step of the way. They laugh, they cry. Flashes too highspeed to be wholly memory, but you feel it flooding and soaking your brain. You feel it like intuition. It burns. It chills. It’s gone. “—two—”

His hands become your hands. His body, your body. He’s swimming in your every thought. A flash of crimson streaks through your line of vision. You impulsively turn to face it. “—one—”

Hey! Let it go. It’s your voice and his voice blended. You listen, flinching at the abrupt sound, knee-jerk reactions firing off, fear beginning to chew at the center of your brain, spreading out slow and thick.

Don’t chase the rabbit. “—one—”

A figure appears at your side, tall and quiet. He’s half torn open, red like Nat, with big, ghostly irises peering down and you hear yourself calling his name:

Bucky?

Don’t! Steve demands, don’t look, please. I can’t— I can’t either. You quiet your pounding heart at his pleading, forcing the image from your mind.

Trust the drift.

Steve continues to sink in like a palm running from the edge of your temple to the back of your skull, tugging your head toward the blue sky of his eyes. It feels like his hand— it feels like your hand. Your body lifts, weightless, secured only by a single hold. He’s everywhere, inside your muscles, your pulse, your heartbeat, like he’s been a part of you your entire life. Like the way Natasha used to feel, he’s vivid and alive, thoroughly woven through.

Okay?

The two of you look each other without looking at each other. A nod of his head— your head— vaguely registered as real movements.

Shuri returns both of you to time’s fixed pace. Her voice lifts the trance.

“—Neural Handshake complete.”

Steve’s right arm moves forward. Yours continues the motion. Orion brandishes its shield in salute.

The drift is silent, but the entire facility has erupted into cheers.

-

“Yes! It’s good!” Shuri exclaims from her seat. A loud exhale followed by victorious punches at the air and she can’t help grinning so big her face begins to ache.

She looks over at Bucky, standing with a smile, both proud and pained, and places a gentle palm on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says calmly, eyes still shut. “It’s good.”

[merakiaes]

Rudely Interrupted - Arthur Shelby

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: A bit of soft smut, maybe? I feel like this turned out really bad, more of the morning sex and too little of the actual teasing at the end but I hope you like it anyways. Also, the end is completely non-serious so don’t mind it XD

Wordcount: 2048

Summary: Tommy walks in on you and Arthur having morning sex and when you join the rest of the family they tease you. 

There was only one thing in the world that woke you up better than coffee, and that was morning sex with Arthur.

The first time he had attempted to get some in the morning, you had been rather annoyed and only slapped his hands away, leaving him to take care of himself in his lonesome while you went about your day in all your grumpy glory.

But once you had given in to his flamboyant morning ardor, you were insatiable, because unlike the frantic performance sex that descended after a night on the town, morning sex was deliciously unpretentious, relaxing, slow and the most erotic thing you had ever experienced.

But as business had been blooming for the Peaky Blinders, Arthur had been spending more time at the office, both getting home later than usual, and heading out earlier, usually before you had even woken up.

Because of this, the only time you got to get physical was between half an hour and an hour in the middle of the day, which was less exciting than both getting intimate during the night, and most definitely less exciting than doing it in the morning.

Today was the first morning in three weeks that you had woken up to find Arthur by your side rather than finding his side of the bed empty, and almost as if sensing your awaking, he woke up not even a minute later and wasted no time in getting to business.

You didn’t know how long you had been going, and frankly, you didn’t care. You couldn’t get enough of each other today, the strange withdrawal from not having seen each other in the morning sun for several weeks having gotten to you more than you originally thought.

Arthur’s breath was hot against the skin of your shoulders, his mustache tickling you in a way that only intensified the pleasure you were currently feeling.

With the dust of sleep still in your eyes, your back arching against his as he thrusted into you, your hands explored each other’s bodies as if you had never explored the territory before.

Your muscles were still sore and stiff from the sleep you had just woken up from, but softening more and more with every move you made.

A moan left your lips as Arthur’s hand found the back of your thigh and pulled your leg up higher on his back to get deeper, your head digging further into the pillow under your head, successfully messing up your hair even more than it had previously been.

The sweet sound made a throaty groan leave Arthur’s lips in return, the sound getting muffled in the crook of your neck. He rubbed his face against your shoulder playfully, but not once did he slow down.

“You’re so fookin’ good to me.” He mumbled, pressing a rough kiss to your throat, his mustache hitting a particularly ticklish spot and drawing a contented and effortless giggle from your lips.

Your hands moved from his upper back, where they had been squeezing away at his flesh and muscle, to grab his face, bringing it up from your neck and forcing him to look at you.

His eyes were squeezed shut, but he soon let them flutter open as you pressed your forehead against his, scanning the way your eyes were hooded with lust and sleep and finding you nothing short of absolutely fucking divine.

You brushed a strand of his hair out of his face, wet with sweat, as was the rest of his body, and yours just like it.

Bringing your lips to meet his in a messy kiss, you moaned into his mouth when he once again hit just the right spot, your hands squeezing his jaw harder at the feeling.

“I love you.” You moaned again, followed by yet another one, this time so intense you had to pull out of the kiss.

Your breaths mixed together with your moans and his groans, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep yourself from letting out sounds all too loud.

“I love ya too.” Arthur finally responded after a moment of silence, but his words were cut short as his head fell back into your neck and your head fell back into the pillow as he quickened his pace.

You were both just a moaning and groaning mess now, and you knew he was just as close as you were with the way his body was shaking, which only edged you on further.

But before either of you could reach the sweet relief you had been craving for days upon days, the door to your bedroom slammed open, causing Arthur to come to an abrupt halt in his movements and both of you to reach for your guns on the bedside table out of sheer instinct, pointing them towards the door in perfect sync.

But instead of an intruder standing in the doorway, you were met with the bored face of your brother-in-law, staring at you as if he hadn’t just caught you having sex at the crack of dawn.

“You’re late.” Tommy stated simply, grabbing Arthur’s pants and your dress, both from the day before, from the floor and throwing them at you where you laid in the bed.

Arthur moved to put his gun back at the table and you followed suit, having to push back the pleasurable feeling yet again building up in your chest at the feeling of him moving inside you.

“Get the fuck out of ‘ere, Tommy!” Arthur roared once his head had registered the identity of the interrupter, hurrying to pull the thin blanket over your stark naked bodies. 

But you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law seeing you naked, you were too infuriated about being disrupted in the first place to even think straight. 

All you could do was glare at him from underneath his brother, both of you still panting but slowly coming down from the highs you had been so close to piquing, much to your dismay.

“Start locking your bedroom door, it could’ve been anyone barging in.” Tommy said, pointing at both of you, and you instantly fired back

“No, because you’re the only one who would barge in like that even when hearing your brother and his wife are fucking!” 

But he was already out the door, simply waving a careless hand over his shoulder as he headed back for the stairs.

You fell back onto the bed once more, and Arthur fell limp on top of you, his hands caressing your hips and face burying in your neck like before.

A sigh left your lips and your hands moved up to the back of his head, stroking the short-shaven hairs for a moment while just staring into the ceiling

Arthur grumbled into your neck. “Later?”

You wanted to say no, make him stay in bed with you, but you knew you couldn’t keep Thomas waiting, especially not now that the rest of the Shelby clan were waiting for you as well.

“Yeah.” You muttered sourly. “Later.”

And with that, you carefully pushed him off of you, and wasted no time in throwing your legs over the edge of the bed and heading straight for the bathroom too clean off the sleep and sweat.

The ruffle of the sheets indicated that Arthur was close behind, and only a second later he was back behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso while you flipped on the shower, letting the water flush over your fingers to test the temperature.

He put his forehead against your shoulder, hugging you tight. “I’ll talk to Tommy after the family meeting. Tell ‘im I’m taking ya to the countryside for the weekend. Would ya want that?”

A smile instantly tugged at the corners of your lips and you turned around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his bare torso and looking up at him with a contempt gaze. “Yes.” You confirmed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He answered without a second thought, pulling you closer. But you had to cut the affection short to hurriedly clean yourselves off and make yourselves presentable.

Five minutes later, you were heading out of your shared home and across the street towards the betting shop, stumbling the entire way as Arthur was buttoning your blouse and you were tying his tie on the go.

As suspected, everyone else were clearly already present, their voices loud and clear the second the two of you stepped over the threshold. 

Hand in hand, you hurried into the room where everyone were gathered, and wordlessly found your usual seats at the table, not even noticing the way everyone had grown quiet at your entrance.

Until you looked up and found everyone staring at you with various expressions, that is. 

Or well, the only one who didn’t wear the same expression as the rest of them was Tommy, who sported one of pure boredom while the others were all obviously trying their best not to break into shit-eating grins.

You narrowed your eyes at them and immediately went to ask them what their deal was, but before a single sound could leave your lips, Arthur beat you to it, tucking you away under his arms safely while glaring at the lot of them.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” He inquired in a loud voice, which seemed to trigger all of them, everyone either breaking into a grin or full on laughter.

John being the loudest, of course. 

“Heard you had a fun morning.” Said man teased, laughing and eyes sparkling with mischief.

His intention had without a doubt been to embarrass you, and as you were actually a very private and reserved person, he succeeded with just that, his words causing you to cross your arms and sink further into Arthur’s side. But the embarrassment in your body did in no way stop the fierce glare taking over your entire face.

Arthur, sensing your discomfort, pulled you even closer, as if it was even possible with how close you already were.

“We were having a great fookin’ time before we were interrupted.” He snapped back to his younger brother with a glare just as fierce as your own. “Now, we were told we were late and now we’re ‘ere, so get the fuck on with it before my woman loses her patience. She’s in a mood and you don’t want to be on the receiving end when she’s in a mood.”

In any other case, you probably would have smacked the shit out of him for even commenting your mood, but in this case, you let it slide, satisfaction filling your entire body at the sight of everyone’s grins disappearing without a trace and John straightening himself in his seat with an uncomfortable clear of his throat.

It was in times like these that it really worked in your favor to be the kick-ass woman you were; you were a Shelby woman after all, and everyone knew better than to get in the way of a Shelby woman.

Especially you, which was why everyone abandoned the subject without as much as another word about it, finally letting Tommy get on with the business at hand.

After the family meeting, Arthur stayed true to his word and, rather than asking for permission, told Tommy he would be taking you to the countryside for the weekend, and much to both of your surprise you didn’t get as much as an objection.

And you could happily say you didn’t get any more interruptions.

.

.

.

.

Until the weekend was over and you made a second attempt at Monday morning, that is. 

This time, it was Finn’s time to fall victim to the denudation of his older brother.

But unlike Tommy, he had been a lot more curious about your denudation, discretely trying to sneak a peak of your chest over Arthur’s shoulder. But he hadn’t been as discrete as he thought, which in turn resulted in Arthur throwing the closest thing he could find at him, which so happened to be your favourite watch.

It broke as it hit the wall rather than the youngest of the Shelby siblings, and you didn’t talk to Arthur for two days.