#why do all the other kens who seem to get along pretty well suddenly turn evil because of beach ken

[cipheramnesia]

Re: your tags, I don't think this is going off the rails, and it's sort of interesting to me that what you're describing reflects similar to my experience (I was not depressed, but I was and still am baffled [well, maybe a little depressed - I cannot get over how unpleasant Ken's characterization was]), but it also raises an interesting point of nuance.

That is, there's the usual uniformed alt right critics who just hate anything that breathes near a woman, obviously there's not any nuance to that. However, generally speaking the crux of both people who love the movie and people with actual negative feedback (not just knee jerk reactivism) is the issue of nuance. Both groups seem to agree nuance is key but people who liked it feel criticism lacks nuance, while people who did not like the movie find it suffers from a lack of nuance.

There's different ways to approach the question - for example it's possible to argue that having these conversations represents the intended effect of the movie. I don't believe that to be the case, but it's a fair interpretation. It's arguable that the movie literally makes it's thesis statement in Gloria's monologue and intends the rest of the movie, whole cloth, as demonstrating this thesis. Which, I don't think it does, but also that's a valid interpretation - which is kinda the whole point of criticism, not to come to a right opinion, but to have a discussion about art.

On the third side, I find it weighs heavily that the response to negative criticism is either that we were thinking to much about a fun lighthearted movie or that we just didn't have the nuance to understand it. It's a scab I really need to stop picking at.

I mean saying the movie supported men's rights kind of ignores that what the kens did was painted as bad. Like that was very much the message of the film

That was the text of the film but not the message.

I'm not going to apply greater nuanced analysis to a movie that had all coherent structure papered over in producer notes. But for a movie that spends a lot of time pointing out situations that are unfair, not equal, or "bad" it didn't have anything to say about why or what might actually resolve the inequality.

Not saying it needs to author the revolution or anything, just it kinda stopped at "patriarchy bad because men rule all and are dumb boys who are gross" and I think that's boring? It's like hey, inequality sure is bad! And it seems like weird and wrong the girl empowerment doll for diverse women is exclusively developed by old white men! Followed by crickets chirping.

I was kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop, like yes, this is a pretty fun satirical look at gender and... and..? And that's it. Barbie world goes back to hierarchical control in a perfect utopia. The real world is unaffected because all those executives are just silly guys who are trying their best. Gloria gets to be a good mom, and hands her ideas over to the corporation. The new line of Barbies are Barbies that just don't want anything at all. And Margot Barbie just leaves.

Which is unfortunate because it starts out with a great deal of very interesting ideas, but ends up without anything much to say at all. It uses all the right words but mostly just kinda ascribes broad universal meaning and morality rather than considering any of it could have some underlying complexity.

We all know feminism can't hold hands with capitalism, but the Barbie movie wants the cache of the feminist movement beholden to the bottom line of Mattel's investors. And as a fun movie about children's dolls it's fine, but it's also selling itself as a feminist film, which it very much is not.

[prettyboy-writes]

♡ ˎˊ𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎ˏˋ ♡

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 - 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰 '𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘺' 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘹 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘮𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘯' 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥,𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳.

Bloodied and bruised is what the blonde was. He’d never met someone that could land so many hits on him without getting the same,what made it worse was that the boy was shorter than him. He was honestly impressed but couldn’t say that infront of his friends when he’s already loosing.

YN was pissed,pissed and annoyed. Sano’s little fake blonde friend wouldn’t shut up about never giving up and to face your problems. No matter how many hits he landed on sano he wouldn’t go down. Raising his hands he was ready to propose a solution.

“Call off your guys and I’ll call if mines. We can do this,another way.” YN stood straight,fixing his jacket. Manjiro looked around before shrugging his shoulders and whispering something to Draken. The tattooed man nodded in what seemed to be agreement before yelling.

“Oi! The presidents needa’ hold off the fight!” All 250 of the men paused in their positions,some with their hands midair ready to knock others clean out while some people fell from mid air as they were ready to jump onto someone and beat them half to death.

All the white jackets,aka your members looked at you as if they were asking “is he speaking for you as well?” You nodded at them and they all went back to their positions and by their friends,laughing and teasing at how bad they were beat or praising how many people one took down.

“Manjiro sano,I propose a truce. You won’t go down because of your oddly positive friend and I’m simply running out of energy.” You walked closer to the blonde,he seemed to tense,unsure if you were being serious.

“How about,we share the area. We fight against other gangs who somehow manage to make their way into our Territory.” He looked at ken for reassurance,earning a nod from him.

“A truce it is,LN” you both shook hands,receiving cheers of celebration from the 250 men that stood alongside you both.

“If I’m bein’ honest I was about to pass out sleep on the nearest toman member!” Someone from your gang yelled causing laughter to erupt. You only shook your head with a smile and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Mikey suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The embarrassment on your face as you tried to hold back a laugh,the little blush that dusted your cheeks. Why did he all of a sudden find you so pretty,why did he find you attractive.

Shaking his head while closing his eyes,ridding the confusing thoughts. “It was such a pleasure to fight with the unbeatable Manjiro sano,but it is time I take my leave.” You raised your arms dramatically and just in que your co-president came driving by,swooping you up by your waist and onto the shared motorcycle.

“Your all dismissed,thank you for fighting alongside me today!” You waved at your gang members as they let out a series of “my pleasure” and “welcomes’”. You gave a smile before you exited the grounds on the bike.

Mikey was stunned. How the fuck did you look so elegant while getting snatched off your feet ? How did you get one hundred and fifty larger men to give you their full repsect and undivided attention? Mikey had so many questions right now.

And that led to today. You were sitting in a small bakery,a table close to the glass wall where you could see any and everything,including the blonde walking to the door. You watched as he walked in searching for a familiar color of hair,waving at him his eyebrows raised and he headed towards you waving with a smile.

“Yo” you raised your head slightly before tilting it back. He sat in the chair looking around before speaking up. “I want to end the rivalry between our gangs.” He spoke,his tone was nervous but his face was stoic and didn’t change a bit. You shrugged. “Sure,I mean why not.” His face practically lit up when he heard your agreement.

“Let’s celebrate with dorayaki!” He waved towards the waitress who immediately rushed over with a pen and notepad. “Can I get two melonpan? They are very sweet and I need sugar.” You held up two fingers as you spoke and the waitress nodded. She looked between you two obviously nervous.

“I’ll be right back with your food,congrats on the relationship you two!” She gave another smile before walking off. Your face immediately warmed up and you looked at Mikey who was also flustered before looking down.

Why didn’t he deny asking you out? Why didn’t you deny him asking you out? God this was so embarrassing. You shook the thought as lightly tapped your cheeks,ridding the warmth before looking up at the blonde.

“M’ sorry about that.” He apologized offering a soft smile. You once again felt the warmth travel up to your cheeks. “It’s fine,just a simple misunderstanding.” He nodded and once again his eyes lit up when he saw the waitress heading to your table with plates.

She set them both down before slightly bowing and walking away. You bit into the bread,not moving it from your mouth as you looked around before finishing the bite and chewing it. Mikey was slightly confused but nonetheless flustered at how strangely cute you looked.

“Say LN,how old are ya’?” Mikey asked as he played around with his food,making the fish seem as if it was swimming. “Mmm,just turned 14. Why?” You answered as soon as you swallowed your bread. His eyes widened. “Woah. Your younger than me? Well I mean it’s not that big of a surprise seeing your height-“ Mikey immediately regretted talking about your height when he saw your glare.

“I am the perfect height for my age,manjiro.” Your eyes narrowed on the blonde causing him to raise his hands in a surrendering manner. “Geez,hit a nerve there.” You huffed before looking away as you took another bite of your bread,earning a snicker from Mikey. Your eyes flickered back to him,he was suddenly staring at something,with his full attention.

In all honesty he was admiring your face,he had never thought of anyone pretty. Let alone have a crush on someone. This was a new discovery for him and he didn’t know how to go about it. Maybe he’d talk to takemitchy later,he has a girlfriend. His thoughts were interrupted when your voice was heard.

“Whaddya’ staring at?” You attempted to following where his eyes where but it seemed like he was staring at the empty chair behind you. He shrugged before biting into his dorayaki happily.

Not only was he happy that he saved his guys a possibly big fight that could cause serious injuries and possible deaths,but he also made an ally. A cute one at that. “Nothin,just thinking.” You gave an understanding nod and rested your cheek on your palm,looking through the glass walls.

“Hey does your friend know I can see his tall ass? He sucks at hiding.” Your vision hovered on Draken who was trying to hide behind a wall. Mikey laughed at your honesty before turning to him and waving him off with a nod.

“He didn’t quite trust the idea of me coming to meet you alone.” Mikey admitted. You shrugged before eating the last bite of your bread. “Hey uh,do you maybe wanna go on a walk? Tomorrow?” The blonde nervously asked with a smile.

You nodded,returning his kind smile. “Alright,it’s a date. See you then,Mikey” you stood up and placed a 1000 yen bill before exiting the cafe,waving at Mikey through the glass.

His cheeks were bright red as he tried to wave back at you. He settled rivalry,gained an ally and got a date? God this day was just going perfect for him.

“Oh god what should I wear? What do you wear for date walks?!” He pointed to the waitress who served you and him. She nervously answered: “a nice hoodie and a pair of jeans always work?” Manjiro nodded and yelled a “thankyou” as he walked out of the cafe waving.

You can bet he went to Takemichi to help him pick out a hoodie with Draken following along giving his opinion every now and then.

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Request are open

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam���s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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[shihalyfie]

The difference between the Adventure group’s and the 02 group’s respective relationships with their Digimon

Kizuna very prominently depicts a difference between the older six Adventure group members (Taichi, Yamato, Sora, Koushirou, Mimi, Jou) and the younger six 02 group members (Takeru, Hikari, Daisuke, Ken, Miyako, Iori) in terms of how they interact with their partners, and part of it is because of the strange relationship between Kizuna and 02′s themes, but, in fact, there had always been a rather subtle difference between said dynamics even since all the way back in 02, just exacerbated by the 02 group being the only ones to be able to open Digital Gates via their D-3s and the fact that the circumstances of the plot were a bit engineered to make the 02 group a bit more functional during its duration.

The image of “every human-Digimon partner pair hanging together all of the time even through mundane daily life events” is certainly romantic, but, in fact, the older Adventure group is not portrayed as a group that necessarily longs for such an arrangement, and the 02 group doing so is something they specifically do because of their own personalities. This is something very tied to the distinction between the Adventure and 02 groups’ respective ways of life and internal dynamics, and what it says about each individual group’s preferences of independence vs. mutual support.

Once Adventure’s finale hit and the Adventure group had their first bout of “separation” from their partners, thus began the “two-and-a-half year break”, in which the Adventure group had to suddenly accept separation from their partners after (what had been to them) months of being together all of the time. It’s an understandable feeling of loss! You “took something for granted” when it’d been with you all of the time, you made an incredible, important friend and suddenly had to part. That said, there are some nuances to this that need to be taken into account here:

Takeru and Hikari (who turn out to later become involved with the 02 group and take on their mentality) are the two most confident about their parting on the note of “we’ll definitely meet again, don’t worry about it, it’ll be okay,” which is a pretty obvious meta hint at 02 airing one week later, but also does say a bit that they’re the ones most hung up on the possible reunion.

The two-and-a-half year break is characterized not so much by a permanent and unbroken separation as much as the lack of ability for Taichi and his friends to meet up with Agumon and the other partners on a regular, controlled basis. They weren’t completely cut off from contact -- Taichi receiving a message from Agumon in the above-linked drama CD, Koushirou keeping in contact with Gennai regularly, the entire events of Our War Game!, the Adventure mini dramas (yes, those are canon), the 15th anniversary drama CD, and the reunion depicted in 02 episode 27′s flashback. Moreover, the way Koushirou approaches the Digital Gates in the early episodes of 02, along with Two-and-a-Half Break itself, makes it clear that the gates still did open sporadically, it’s just that, since there was no real rhyme or reason to them opening, meetups with partners weren’t something that could be coordinated smoothly. Given that, it’s not that surprising that Taichi met up with Agumon without altogether too much fanfare in 02 episode 1 -- it certainly wasn’t something he could have done often, but the two had met up a handful of times during the last two and a half years, so it’s understandable that it doesn’t necessarily merit a massively dramatic reunion, especially when there’s a crisis going on at the exact moment.

Once the events of 02 kicked off, the Adventure kids started having some touching reunions with their respective partners now that the 02 kids’ D-3s could provide reliable standbys for going in and out of the Digital World, and, of course, it’s natural that they’d be a bit emotional after their contact had been so disjointed (even though, as with Taichi, it’s not actually nearly as dramatic as one might expect), but once that’s out of the way...

Practicality suggests that the Adventure kids’ Digimon partners would choose to spend most of their time in the Digital World for the duration of 02...but, in fact, even that considered, the older Adventure kids really don’t seem that bothered to not get to see their partners every day of their lives. Granted, they of course presumably don’t want to constantly bother their juniors all of the time to open the gate for them, but Sora demonstrates in 02 episode 12 that she will grab them and go in if it’s urgent, so there’s no reason to believe they wouldn’t recruit the kids to open the gate for them if they wanted or needed it that badly. Moreover, the juniors being able to consistently open and close the gate means that constant communication and occasional meetups with their Digimon partners are more than possible -- recruiting one of their partners to do something on the other end isn't too hard anymore, given the events of 02 episode 32 or such -- and so, the “inconsistent, fleeting contact” that spanned the “two-and-a-half year break” is no longer a problem.

All things considered, if the older kids really wanted to create some kind of pipeline or arrangement so they could hang out with their partners on the daily like the 02 kids do, you’d think they (especially Koushirou) would try a little harder, but they don’t actually seem to treat it with much more urgency than having a really good friend who might be a bit of a slightly inconvenient bus ride away. The fact that they actually have reasonably consistent methods of access to see each other if they really want to is comfort in itself. Of course, when Christmas comes and the juniors arrange a situation for all of their seniors to see their partners again, it really is a Christmas gift, because of course there’s the joy of getting to see an incredibly treasured friend you don’t normally get to see in a while!...but even then, Taichi says that Agumon should at least stay for the holiday, with a completely casual tone that suggests he has absolutely no qualms or emotional hangups about the idea that Agumon’s going to have to return to the Digital World soon and they won’t have day-to-day contact anymore (it’ll just be nice if Agumon can stay for the rice cake soup).

In the end, this is actually...probably a pretty normal thing to expect. Digimon partners are “best friends” in ways that are a bit unusually beyond your average so-called “best friend”, in that they’re somewhat psychologically linked to their human partners and thus “get” them in ways an average human friend wouldn’t, but nevertheless, it’s not like everyone constantly wants to have their best friend with them every single moment of every single day; boundaries and independence are a thing, and even Miyako felt that it was appropriate to leave Poromon with Koushirou for the duration of her Kyoto trip in 02 episode 33. (In fact, if you squint carefully, there are times when even the 02 kids’ Digimon occasionally don’t accompany their partners; Patamon and Tailmon didn’t attend the soccer game in 02 episode 8.) Or, if you want to take this all the way back to Adventure, “needing space” from one’s own partner once in a while was lightly addressed when Tentomon deliberately recused himself from Koushirou having a heart-to-heart with his parents, because he understood Koushirou needed catharsis on his own terms (and we see Hawkmon and Tailmon even do the same for Miyako and Hikari in 02 episode 31). So when those best friends were placed in dubious places of contact and it became difficult to tell when they’d ever meet again, it was emotionally difficult in the same way being forcibly cut off from a treasured friend and not being allowed to see them regularly would hurt -- but once some degree of regular, guaranteed contact was established, and it was understood that they could meet up when they needed to, they could schedule that easily (and in fact there’s no evidence that the older Adventure group never made use of that during days in the year that weren’t depicted in 02 proper).

Not only that, the Digital World is also treated as having its own “will” and letting Chosen in as needed in 02 episode 22, thus implying that, even without the 02 kids’ D-3s as a fail-safe, it was getting more receptive to open gates in general; Koushirou had been keeping track of them and alerting other Chosen to whenever they opened naturally (including Mimi in 02 episode 14), allowing contact to continue on a more regular basis.

So why are the 02 kids and their Digimon so different? Since the incidents depicted in 02 didn’t impact the real world itself until late in the series, why didn’t they make an arrangement like their seniors where the kids would meet up with their partners in the Digital World after school, thus avoiding the trouble of having to hide them in school and pass them off as plushies everywhere? Well, the thing is, they almost had that kind of arrangement...and it lasted only one episode. It was made a prominent point in 02 episode 2 that even after meeting V-mon and barely getting to know him, Daisuke couldn’t get him out of his mind. Then, Miyako and Iori met their own partners, and when they all emerged, the 02 group’s partners themselves came out with them, with Tentomon and Piyomon being the ones to say that they’d rather stay behind for the time being. In other words, it wasn’t a question of practicality surrounding the territory war with the Kaiser -- the 02 group’s Digimon and humans themselves actually wanted to stick to each other this badly, even if it meant that the Digimon would be staying in in an unfamiliar world long-term (after all, the Digital World is still every Digimon’s natural home, so it’s possible that the older kids’ Digimon aren’t too enthused about the idea of staying in the real world for so long themselves).

In the end, the real reason the 02 group and their Digimon stick to each other so constantly through any and all situations has to do with their mentality. In the case of the Adventure group, while being trapped in another world gave them a sense of necessity in sticking together all of the time and thus created a bit of extra shock when sudden separation occurred, either way, said older group was a bit more independent-minded and was ultimately able to mentally adjust to returning to a status quo where they couldn’t expect to see their partners all of the time, and managed to build proper lives around that assumption. Even when their partners were regularly accessible, they were able to live their lives somewhat independently from each other (especially due to the difficulty of integrating Digimon into the real world at this stage), with the understanding that they still could meet each other whenever necessary for anything ranging from a dangerous incident to simply just wanting to get together and have a nice heart-to-heart. The 02 group, on the other hand, consisted of a group of slight misfits with some degree of socialization problems prior to the start of the series, who have mentalities based on “their relationship with others” moreso than independence; their group dynamic was based on a slight amount of dependence on mutual support rather than necessarily being able to sustain themselves on their own, and it thus follows that they and their like-minded partners would be a bit clingier as a result, because they’re more in need of that emotional support and company on a day-to-day basis.

Look at Daisuke, whose entire character has a lot to do with his need for validation and support from others; it’s very easy to imagine that prolonged separation from V-mon might outright cause them separation anxiety before long (remember Daisuke’s reaction to getting briefly separated from V-mon after only knowing him for less than a day in 02 episode 2!). Or Takeru and Hikari, who still are parsing a lot of really unresolved issues that weren’t actually properly addressed in Adventure (remember: they’re the ones who were only able to accept the idea of parting if they had certainty that they’d meet again, and Tailmon especially associates Hikari specifically with a life she couldn’t initially have). These kids dislike being separated from each other for too long, so it stands to reason that they’re going to dislike separation from their respective partners even less. 02 being a story about relationships means it’s a series about how people who have difficulty finding their answers by themselves find it through the support of others, and so, more latently, it’s only natural that it’ll extend to their partners, and that their partners, being somewhat like-minded, would reflect that by willingly choosing to leave the Digital World to cling to their partners, even in an unfamiliar world.

Of course, you could potentially chalk this up to sheer practicality, in that the 02 group had access to D-3s and were simply making use of their time together, or that the nature of the Digital World territory war eventually getting brought out into the real world guided their actions this way...but, in fact, Kizuna continues to double down on there being a distinct difference between these two.

Because Kizuna only gives us very “limited context” by showing us limited snippets of a few days instead of the whole eight months 02 spanned over, we’re forced to extract from only a very small “sample size” of interactions, but one thing the movie does make clear is that the Adventure and 02 groups are both roughly in the same boat in regards to what they can and can’t do regarding their partners and the Digital World. The “advantage” the 02 group had over their seniors in that they could easily open gates is no longer in play, because travel can happen at leisure even with the older group thanks to the smartphone terminals Koushirou’s made (the deluxe Blu-ray booklet confirms that it’s the smartphones doing it, so it’s not like Yamato’s referring to the ability to grab one of the 02 group members here). On top of that, Digimon have some degree of recognition in society, so it’s not too much of a big deal to have them in real life, and all of the Digimon partners are probably much more used to going back and forth and being familiar with both parts of society. And yet, despite that, there is a difference.

The main reason I so often urge people not to take the question of “who has partners present in the credits and who doesn’t” as a definitive statement of who’s lost their partners like Taichi, Yamato, and Sora have is that the opening does the same thing -- none of the Adventure group��s partners are depicted in the respective characters’ vicinity, even though we know at this point that none of them have full-on disappeared yet. Rather, when you think about it, it’s more that the point being made is that their partners aren’t with them all of the time -- just because the gates are easily opened by anyone in this cast now doesn’t mean that the Adventure characters decided to bring them home to live with them the way the 02 group did. Tentomon is not shown to be in the proximity of Koushirou in the movie’s initial scenes, nor in the opening, nor during his company negotiations, and it’s only during later events when he’s seen in the office. Palmon not being on the plane with Mimi may well mean that she’s not actually with her all of the time, mainly just working alongside her every so often, and Jou’s memorial short indicates that there’s a certain degree of partners acting independently now (especially now that they can operate in the real world without too much issue). Obviously, said Digimon partners are still hanging around and reasonably well-involved in their lives, but they’re not always next to them, and may be hanging around elsewhere in the real world or killing time in the Digital World -- but meanwhile, the number of times any of the 02 group is physically seen in the movie or To Sora without their partner totals at zero.

In the end, the distinction between the older Adventure group’s and the 02 group’s respective behavior may have been somewhat exacerbated by the gate-opening issue at first, but even when that was taken away, the 02 group’s tendency to cling to their partners and vice versa was just something endemic to themselves.

Again, since Kizuna gives us a very limited frame of reference, it’s not to say that the 02 group is always stuck to their partners for every breathing moment of their lives; remember, even all the way back in 02 episode 33, Miyako was willing to leave Poromon with Koushirou for the duration of her Kyoto trip, and the memorial shorts also depict V-mon hanging out with Gabumon in a setting that we assume doesn’t involve Daisuke in the vicinity, and photos of Takeru and Hikari without their partners are seen on Imura’s board, and there certainly must be instances of need for privacy or busy moments of adulthood that couldn’t be depicted in the limited range of the movie -- but the point is made, and there is a massive contrast between the Adventure group living independent lives, and the 02 group playing around and doing mundane things and actively involving their partners in their conversations and interactions in ways far beyond that of their seniors. And, by extension, the fact that the drama CD depicts them going out of their way to meet up with each other in a setting where their seniors aren’t doing anything of the sort; the 02 group’s mentality, shaped by the events of their series, involves treasuring their personal relationships and gaining emotional support from each other as a bigger priority over individual ambition, and it’s applying even to eight years later in Kizuna to the point where it takes very little to recreate the aura of yet another average 02 episode.

Fundamentally speaking, neither group is in the wrong, and the “difference in mentality” between the two groups is reflected all the way into the 02 epilogue, so this is not a narrative that praises or condemns people for aligning more with being independent-minded and ambitious and not necessarily needing company most of the time, versus being the kind who needs company and emotional support from others and excelling better at giving that kind of support in return. Kizuna’s narrative doesn’t cast the more ostensibly distant (less so “distant” and more “more capable of independent action”) relationship the Adventure group has with their partners in a particularly negative light. I’m sure many reading this post will probably identify more with one group or the other here in terms of their way of living life and maintaining relationships. However, it does cast the concept of “abandoning one’s partner” as the reason for partnership dissolution -- not physical abandonment, but rather, emotional abandonment.

The timing of the partnership dissolution is the key, because the movie puts a huge spotlight on it not happening to Koushirou and Takeru for the time being, which means we’re obligated to look at Taichi and Yamato to see why it’s happening to them and them specifically, and what they have in common. Well, one day prior, they’d dumped their partners on their siblings with very few words, and then, over dinner, had outright scoffed at the idea of bringing their partners to school with them. Again, it’s not the issue of bringing them or not when even Koushirou doesn’t seem to be hanging out with Tentomon all of the time, but rather that they have such a condescending and cold attitude about it, as if their partners are “in the way” of their adult lives. Taichi doesn’t necessarily have to have Agumon live with him as a roommate, but he’s portrayed as horribly lonely and yet hadn’t even let Agumon visit once because he was so willing to shut him out. In other words, Taichi and Yamato had taken their partners so much for granted that they were basically yanking them out once in a while whenever they needed them for Digimon battles, and then tossing them aside flippantly to get back to whatever their lives were, rather than working on maintaining their relationships or allowing for emotional support. For the early duration of the movie, their conversations are not quite there, and are a bit stilted. Partner or not, it’s a cold way to treat a friend who just really wants to be there to support you.

And when you look at Sora, or Menoa (who’s revealed in the novel to have also been emotionally drifting from Morphomon for the sake of her studies), their abandonment of their partners was hardly physical -- Piyomon was there to watch Sora’s flower arrangement work, it’s just that Sora was coldly turning her away and snapping at her for the sake of her work, and Menoa was most likely still living in the same house as Morphomon back when she was studying in Colorado, but nevertheless, she hadn’t been talking to her anymore. Meanwhile, on the other hand, while Koushirou doesn’t seem to be with Tentomon all of the time, he still has a proper heart-to-heart with him in a way that wouldn’t be completely out of place in Adventure, so you can see why he’s not nearly in trouble as Taichi, Yamato, and Sora are at the time of the movie.

So, the take-home is that it’s not necessarily a requirement to be with your partner every single breathing moment of the day like the 02 group is; of course, them being more on the clingy (for lack of a better way to put it) side means that being emotionally in-tune with them is just a fact of life, but Koushirou, Mimi, and Jou all seem to have figured out comfortable ways of interaction and boundaries with their own partners even despite occasional distance, and that’s why they’re not in danger of losing their partners at the time of the movie, despite all of them technically being adults and Jou being a year older. (Well, there’s also the secondary metaphorical meaning of a partner meaning one’s own personal dreams and aspirations and how that factors into Taichi, Yamato, Sora, and Menoa’s actions, but we’ll leave that as a separate topic for the time being.)

One interesting thing about the epilogue is that, because the meeting depicted takes place in the Digital World and we have a very limited amount of information, we don’t really have evidence that most of the adult Chosen actually live with their Digimon partners on a day-to-day basis -- the only thing concrete we have is a strong implication that Hawkmon lives at home with Miyako’s family, which is reasonably par for the course with Miyako and Hawkmon’s respective characterizations (and although it’s not shown, you can also imagine that the very clingy Wormmon would likely prefer living with “Ken-chan” and his family). Otherwise, the only other “home�� scene we get to see is that of Takeru and his son, but their partners aren’t shown in the real world.

The Character Complete File does add some implications depending on how you want to read certain ones, and Armadimon’s lack of presence in Iori’s attorney scene could conversely mean that he’s more likely to be a presence in Iori’s home life than he is in his work (which is also reasonably consistent with their characters), but either way, the take-home is that the nature of each Digimon partner’s involvement in each adult’s day-to-day life is ambiguous. So you can really make any kind of extrapolation about whose partners are involved in their lives to what degree; it’s been 17 years since Kizuna, relationships and day-to-day life needs have changed, and things like “career partner” and “family member” (or both) don’t necessarily have to entail a Digimon partner constantly clinging to their head and witnessing every moment of their life, as long as the understanding is still there that everyone still has a clear amount of emotional involvement and connection in each other’s lives to some degree.

It’s also interesting to note that the epilogue actually picks a slightly unusual way of phrasing the Digimon partnership phenomenon spreading globally: “a Digimon partner exists for everyone in the world.” In terms of sheer technical meaning, it’s not altogether that different from “everyone has a Digimon partner,” but such oblique wording brings more to mind the idea that, even now, not everyone may have met their Digimon partner yet, or may be living separately from them between worlds, or, with retroactive Kizuna context, being in a bit of an existential crisis or loss of self and having your partner not currently manifested for the time being -- but that doesn’t preclude you from having a partner, as long as you’re capable of maintaining some kind of relationship with them.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

16. Sinful dreams

Prompt used- massaging them | WARNING- implied smut | shout-out to everyone reblogging and commenting on these. Ps. Sorry for no update yesterday ( it's hard to keep up )

" well hello the man who thinks it's his house" harry gave Draco a grin who had presumably came to his house while he was out shopping using the spare key Harry had given him.

" I needed a change of space. Did you bring my biscuits ?" He asked

" I would go shopping and not bring your biscuits, you really are Dim witted " Harry placed his palms on the kitchen top before he took out Draco's biscuits and threw it at Draco in the living room who immediately caught before it would've fallen to the ground and get cracked up.

" what are you even working on ?" Harry asked as he started putting things into the refrigerator.

" just grading some papers " Draco replied opening the packet of biscuit and eating it slowly " still as delicious as ever " he groaned. Chuckling Harry turned to see Draco eating his biscuits, he seemed like Someone who had just been given his Christmas gift.

" I thought you already did them ?" Harry asked

" well turned out the question I had basically wronged of every student was infact right, I was the one who made a careless mistake in the question paper, so now I have to recheck every paper and grade them over again " he sighed as he simultaneously went back to grading his papers

" sometimes you work harder than I do " Harry gave a light laugh as he got his juice box and went into the living room to sit with Draco.

" well being a professor is hard. You should see the answers sometimes. They're worse than yours " Draco groaned changing the answer sheet.

" hey, I wasn't that bad. I just didn't like potions because of snape " Harry defended himself as he watched Draco grade the papers. He randomly picked one of the Answer sheet of a kid named ken wood, chuckling almost immediately after reading the answer

" I remember I wrote the exact same answer once and it turned out to be surprisingly right which I see you've crossed at "

" what?" Draco huffed as he took the sheet from Harry, Peering over the answer and as if upon realising his mistake, sighing he corrected the answer and grade all over.

" you do work hard " Harry's Voice echoed as he went into th bedroom.

" you've got no idea Harry, if only one day you accept that job at school, you'd understand " Draco voice echoed as well from where Harry heard it.

He soon came back in the living room carrying his guitar and sitting down next to Draco's feet, tuning it instantly.

" no joke honestly, I am thinking over it. I do enjoy working in the Muggle world but sometimes i just feel like it's better being really who you are and being with people of your sort " Harry explained

" well Ms. McGonagall would be very glad to have you " he replied.

" you're gonna play ?" Draco asked as he finally noticed Harry had set his hands to play

" you don't want me to ?" Harry asked looking up at Draco

" yes please, I will kill myself if I have to do more of these with no source of enjoyment " Draco rolled his eyes..

Smiling Harry started to play lightly. When after the war Harry set out on his path to discover himself and trying out new things, he had instantly fallen in love with playing guitar. It took a great deal of practice but Harry had successfully learned how to play it last. Often he plays for his friends if they ever go out on a trip or if they're stressed out and he had played on a bunch of their bonfire nights. For Draco it had always worked out pretty greatly. He loved listening to harry play, he played it to so whimsically that he mostly found himself lost in the tunes and just hearing Harry hum along as he played. It was soothing and mildly attractive to Draco, not that he's ever going to tell Harry that but he liked to imagine that he already knew and that was why he used to play it more attractively each time.

The thing was Harry never really realised if he ever started to sing lightly along playing or humming, Draco never pointed. So when Harry was lightly humming and singing to the song, Draco found it much easier to grade his paper more fastly and without wanting to kill himself however in between he had groaned because of craning his neck downward and harry immediately took notice of it.

" what happened ?" He asked concerned putting away his guitar.

" nothing, just my neck hurts now from all the looking down just like I have to look down on you " even in slight he hadn't missed the opportunity to tease Harry who flipped him off.

" here, let me massage " Harry got up from the floor and went behind to sit over the edge of the couch, his feets alongside Draco's body.

" you sure, you know- ooh " he immediately moaned in relief as Harry started massaging the bottom of his neck.

" better ?" Harry asked

" much better " Draco mumbled as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back a little enjoying Harry's hands over his neck.

" you overwork yourself Draco " Harry complained knowing Draco, he probably had time but still tries to do everything beforehand

Draco hummed in response. It soon became ritual between them for Harry to give him massages whenever he was tired or very much worked out and harry happily complied. It was only during one Massage when everything became weird, Harry was simply giving Draco a massage when he had accidentally moaned loudly when Harry has massaged a specific spot on his back. Assuming that none of them heard it, Harry resumed giving him a massage when he elicited the same moan out of Draco and suddenly it became too much for Harry to go on and had to immediately stop Because of the sudden sensation going down south.

" Why'd you stop ?" Draco asked embarrassed

" oh nothing, I - I just need to use the restroom " Harry said as he not so subtly got up from behind Draco and ran for the bathroom to cool down but nothing really worked. Hearing Draco's moan was like a cardinal sin and harry had happily became a sinner. His voice rang over and over in his head which only troubled everything. All he could think about was how beautiful his moan had sounded and how in many more sinning ways he could elicit the same moan. Inappropriately thinking about Draco only worsened everything because the images he had thought about Before of Draco now had a sound and it only turned him on more and more.

Harry was leaned against the kitchen sink waiting for his hard on to go away when there was a knock on the door. He must've been in there for longer than Draco could've anticipated because now he was concerned about Harry.

" is everything alright, Harry?"

" yeah, ev- everything's fine " everything was not absolutely fine, how voice sounded much more strained and he was fighting urge to shove his hands down his pants for relief

" you don't sound so fine, open the door Harry " Draco commanded from the other side of the door

" you go, I'll be out in a few" Harry leaned furthermore onto the sink, almost palming over his jeans

" I'll break the door open if you don't open it right now, I'm giving you 3 seconds "

" 1"

" 2 "

" 3 - I'm openi-"

Huffing Harry opened the door " what ?"

" nothing-oh" Draco eyes widened as his eyes fell over Harry's prominent bulge. They remained in a moment of silence where Harry looked anywhere but Draco's face while Draco found it hard to resist to not stare at Harry's pants.

" i- I don't know how it happened- think you moaned and I've just have had pretty off days and somehow- nmph" it was too late for Harry to continue that sentence since Draco had shoved harry inside the bathroom, pining against the sink and kissing him over the lips. One of his hands making its way under Harry's shirt while the other one enclosing him between him and the sink. Travelling his hands on Draco's neck he made the kiss more heated and rough. It was beyond anything Harry could've ever imagined Draco's soft lips could've done but once his lips were against Harry's, it had aroused a wild sensation in him to have him right here and right then. The kiss became more sloppier with each second, not hurriedly but am urgency to discover what else he could do. The hand pressed against Harry's chest under his shirt was exploring the deeper depths of his chest and slowly moving downwards, Which continuously made Harry release moans he had only thought he could produce with a man. As if the heat was unbearable between them, Draco separated for air and travelled from Harry's lips down to his jawline, pressing small kisses before he has finally reached his neck and pressed warm kisses.

" ar- fuck - you sure ?" Harry moaned as Draco resumed kissing and licking over Harry's neck. His grip on Draco's neck had travelled into his hair and grasping enough to make him lose his control.

" I've always wanted you Harry " Draco moaned in his ear. He would've collapsed on the ground if he wasn't pressed against by Draco's body. Biting his lip he suppressed his desperate moans only for a few seconds until he found it hard to resist when he had managed to kiss Harry's sweet spot and initiated giving him a hickey. Losing control Harry rutted softly against Draco in a desperate attempt to gain any sort of friction for relief which made both of the men's moan in pure ecstacy of the moment and deepening kisses.

" you want to move to bed ?" Draco asked as he went back to kissing Harry's lips.

" thought you'd never asked " Harry mumbled against his lips and held onto Draco's neck, wrapping his legs around his body as Draco placed his hands under his thigh and carried them onto the bed and resumed kissing each other, losing one article of clothing one by one until none were left.

It was the night that had officially ruined their friendship, taking things to next level , doing things to each other they had only dreamt off but who would've known that their dreams of having the other men pressed against the bed, desperately moaning their name would've come true.

Requests open

I couldn't come up with any better idea for this prompt. Sorry if it seemed rushed.

Day 15- nobody can ever be you | Day 17- their own song

[anotherimaginethatblog]

cruise

Pairing: Kenny x OC

Summary: this is cheesy af with all the clichés, but I could not help myself. apologies in advance for the ending. its not my fave but there maybe a part 2.🤷‍♀️ - you and Kenny have had a flirty friendship for years, neither admitting to feelings until a room mix up on the Jericho cruise forces someone’s hand

You would never publicly express it, but you had been excited for this for months. The cruise was the highlight of many pro wrestlers’ year, it was hard work and tiring but also kind of like a vacation. You had sold it yourself as a work trip, when Kenny had asked if you would be attending you gave your usual nonchalant shrug and said, “don’t know I’ll see”, you really wanted to go but the thought of being trapped on a boat with Kenny was hell to you, I mean it is bad enough having a thing for your friend but a friend that you can’t escape? Yeah.

He looked disappointed you noticed, to you he was a good friend you had met on your first tour of japan, hed showed you around and the conversation and good times had flowed. You kept in touch, talking every day, and to Kenny it was a way to feel close to you, the truth was he really liked you and he figured that friendship was better than nothing so over the years you settled into your usual routine of dinner, exploring and video games whenever you happened to be in the same place together. Neither being brave enough to make a move more than the odd kiss goodnight that you would awkwardly forget the next day.

A few days after your non-committal response to Kenny you had replied to the email booking you for an appearance on the cruise, you figured it would be fun and since the boat was so big the chances of actually having to run into him where slim. You were amazing friends, but you were afraid of your feelings getting in the way and ruining what you had spent so long building. The thought of losing him was too much to bear, that and the million questions you would have from your mum if you told her you and Kenney had fallen out. She was convinced he was the perfect man for you, something you denied to her face every time while thinking how right she was in your head.

Arriving at the docks in Miami you had already bumped into a few familiar faces who seemed surprised you actually come along, none more so than Kenny of all people who you just happened to run into while waiting to check in “so much for ill see (Y/N)” he said teasing you.

“hey you” you shot back with a smile “I figured why not, I mean who doesn’t love the Bahamas and being surrounded by fans at every turn” you said turning to look at the mass of fans outside dying for a glimpse of their favourite wrestler.

“and there was me thinking you just wanted to hang out” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re here though, really I am” he replied, you could hear the sincerity in his voice and it gave you a warm feeling that no matter how much you tried to push away, would not leave your body.

“booking under (Y/N)” you said as you stepped up to the desk.

“one moment let me just get my supervisor” said the assistant behind the desk, after completing multiple attempts to book you in. this was not your first rodeo, and you knew this never ended well. “I’m so sorry miss, we have your reservation but I’m afraid due to a mistake you haven’t been allocated a cabin” the poor girl told you, the look on her face bracing herself for your wrath.

“okay, so where am I supposed to sleep? A lounger on deck?!” you replied attempting to keep your cool.

“what’s up?” Kenny cut in before you could continue your tirade at the poor girl behind the desk.

“so, I’m booked on the cruise but they don’t have a cabin for me, I mean how does that even work” you sassed looking directly at the assistant.

“just stay with me, I have a suite so there’s room, you take the bed ill sleep in the lounge its fine” he said.

“you can’t sleep on the couch in your own room Kenny, ill just call the agent and let them know I’m cancelling, I’m not doing this” you quickly answered him

“woah, wait. You cant cancel and your here now, it’s not like we haven’t roomed before it’ll be fine” said Kenny softly grabbing your arm to stop you leaving.

“fine, if that’s okay I will. But I’m not happy about it no offence” you added.

“none taken” said Kenny as he approached the desk.

“what’s up with you?” asked matt Jackson as you were waiting for Kenny to finish sorting your situation

“well….cruise line messed up my booking, sharing with Kenney’s you started

“check in girl flirting with your boyfriend” matt interjected.

“wow, no, okay why would you even…” you trailed off. Matt wasn’t stupid, hed known you and Kenny long enough to see the way you looked at each other and knew you where both stubborn enough to not do anything about the sexual tension between you two.

“look, I see the way he looks at you and you at him, plus the way you act around each other you may as well be dating” he said “just do yourselves a favour and work your shit out” he finished before walking off to talk his family.

Kenny approached you after standing back so he could watch you and matt talking, he wasn’t dumb, he knew what matt had said to you. He said it to Kenny often enough “ you ready to go” he said smiling at you offering you your own key to his suite.

“sure I need to change after travelling all day anyways” you said trying to act cool but you knew you where coming across as a bitch.

After making your way to your room, arguing over who was taking the bed (Kenny insisted you take it) and a quick shower and change you where finally doing your favourite thing; sitting in the lounge with a large tequila and tonic. Kenny was nursing a coke zero, he didn’t drink but being around you when you did made all those feelings begin to bubble to the surface, because he knew what was coming. When you drank you got chatty, and you made him promises you (and he) knew you wouldn’t remember in the morning. “stop looking at me like that, it makes me nervous” you told him laughing

“what?! I cant look at you now” he laughed “you shouldn’t be so pretty” he finished making you blush but want to leave immediately.

“why do you do this?, tease me then go back to just pretending we can only be friends” you stated oblivious to the gang sat around the table with you. You got up to leave and Kenny could only stare open mouthed not sure how to reply.

“(Y/N) come back I didn’t mean to upset you” he pleaded, you knew he hadn’t but you couldn’t take another round of the flirting that would lead to a kiss before you both woke up the next day pretending it hadn’t happened.

“go after her you dumbass” hangman said over the rim of his glass “secretly that’s what women want when they make that dramatic exit” earning laughs from your friends around the table. Gingerly Kenny got up and made his way to your room, if things got too awkward he could always room with hangman or nakazawa.

“(Y/N)” Kenny softly said knocking on the bedroom door “open up for me, I’m sorry I upset you. I just cant do this anymore” he said sadly.

“do what, you don’t want to be my friend anymore?” you asked sadly, stepping out the room closer to him. You where not drunk by any means but the strong drink had made you a little brave and he stiffened when you gently touched his shoulder leading him to sit on the couch.

“no, (Y/N). I don’t want to be your friend anymore” he replied. “I want more, id be lying to myself and you if I wasn’t honest. Its killing me to lie, I think we can be more than friends, we are both adults and I’ve wanted more for a long time. If you don’t that’s cool, but I cant do this anymore I’m sorry” he blurted out, all his words coming out at once. Looking visibly relieved and worried all at once.

You knew he was right, you had got to know each other on a level so deep you where practically a long distance couple, suddenly that bravery lept up and out of you and before you knew it you kissed him. He was shocked at first but soon returned it, deepening it “ we really gonna do this (Y/N)” he asked breathless “we gonna make out then pretend we didn’t over breakfast”.

“no, not this time” you replied kissing him again. “I’m sorry weve danced around each other for so long, I should have had the balls to tell you how I felt” you told him staring into his eyes, he could see all the sincerity and vulnerability you had in you at that moment and he knew you could see the same in his.

“I want this to work” said Kenny, “I want you (Y/N)” he stated,

“right now, here on the couch” you smirked, he knew your humour and knew you full stop. “at least take me out to dinner first” you teased .

“you know what I mean” he replied giving you that jaw dropping smile of his “but I mean, if you’re serious. I could eat” he laughed.

“shut up omega” you laughed kissing him again, he moaned into the kiss and you knew that was a sound you wanted to hear again. Maybe the cruise messing up your room was fate you though to yourself. Before getting distracted by some wandering hands.

“I was serious about dinner though ken” you deadpanned after breaking the kiss Making him laugh. Which was slowly becoming your favourite sound … after the kissy moaning.

[giggles-and-freckles]

ooohh Abi I'm soo happy you're taking prompts!! 8 and 16 together maybe? For you know who🥺🌺

[I know I should finish out the whump prompts first, but I’ve had this in my head for a couple days and I needed to get it down! originally, this was tacked on to the end of my padawan!Kenobi & baby!Soka sickfic prompt response but it’s already too long as a stand-alone so here ya go. it’s not necessary to read the other first, but it may provide some context.]

8=“I’ve got you.” 16=“I’m never letting you go”

using this angst/fluff prompt masterlist

“Who are you looking for?”

“Er, she’s six? Togruta.” He racked his brain for more identifiers. “No front teeth.”

“Does she have a name?” the padawan healer drawled, lifting a tired eyebrow at Obi-Wan.

“Oh. Right. Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka…?”

“I...I don’t know her family name,” he grimaced. “But how many Ahsokas can you possibly have in there?”

The padawan offered a less-than-polite glance at that comment, but returned her gaze to the holo-pad in front of her. “Ahsoka Tano. Looks like she’s fine. High-grade fever, nausea, and dizziness. Nothing serious.”

“That sounds serious,” he frowned.

“Well, it’s not,” the padawan bit off with a glare. “If you want to go see her, either go in or get out.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Go see her?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” The padawan healer crossed her arms and looked at him with bored irritation.

“Oh,” said Obi-Wan. “Well, no, actually. I just–” he paused. “Yes–would you direct me to the room number?”

“C201.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t until he started walking down the hall that he considered what had just happened. He stopped walking abruptly, frowning at his own feet which had seemed to move of their own accord. What was he doing?

He didn’t even know this girl. It was one thing to stop by and ask the healers for an update. It was an entirely different thing to pop in for a visit. What would Ahsoka even say about the strange padawan from the Archives who had carried her to the healers? She’d been so out of it by the time he got her to the Halls of Healing, he wasn’t even sure if she’d remember anything at all.

Obi-Wan unfortunately didn’t think forgetting was a possibility for him, what with the vomit still crusted over his boots from the night before.

Somehow, he found himself at the room marked C201. He considered turning around and walking back to his quarters, but something stopped him. She really had been so unwell–and so cute.

He knocked softly.

The sound of springs and a thump–someone jumping off a bed. Then, the light pitter-patter of small feet crossing the room.

“You!” she cried as she opened the door, beaming up at him.

“Me,” he agreed, smiling weakly in return.

She catapulted herself into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his legs and constricting his knees with a surprising amount of strength.

“Ahsoka,” he chuckled, trying to shake her off. “This can’t become a habit. I can’t move, little one.”

“I’m never letting you go,” she muffled against his legs. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes with a smile, leaning down to untangle her arms from him. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” 

She switched her grip to latch onto his arms. “Up,” she instructed, pulling on him.

“You can’t just command people to carry you.”

“Please?” She batted her eyes at him in a way he was pretty sure was premeditated but also was completely powerless against.

“I stand corrected. You can.” He scooped her up.

Ahsoka grinned, her face six inches away from his. “Hi, Padawan Kenobi.”

“Hi, Ahsoka,” he replied, with a blinding smile of his own.

“I told the healers you would come.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Yep. I knew it.” She nodded vigorously, her head bobbing up and down in a way Obi-Wan knew couldn’t feel good with a fever.

“I’m glad you had so much faith in me. How are you feeling?”

“Great!”

He lifted an eyebrow.

She deflated the tiniest of bits. “Still sick.”

“Then, perhaps you should be in bed, yes?”

“Ugh, yes,” she scowled.

Obi-Wan moved toward the small hospital bed, leaning down to drop her in. The Togruta climbed toward the head of the bed and crawled under the covers, sitting up and looking at him excitedly. He stared in bewilderment, taking a tentative seat on the edge of the bed.

This kid was so strange.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked, her shoulders bouncing a bit. Did this child ever stop moving?

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes rolled around her head as she huffed in impatience. “Are we gonna sing or play or what?”

The older Jedi’s eyes widened. “Sing or...play?” 

“Well, why’d you come here if we weren’t gonna sing or play?”

Why had he come here? Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was qualified to answer that question. There hadn’t been much thinking involved between his waking up and immediately walking down to the Halls of Healing this morning.

“Just to check in on you, I suppose.”

She looked disappointed. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t know there were protocols for checking in on a sick youngling.” He reached across and lightly tapped her nose. 

“Protocols?” She went cross-eyed, her tiny nose scrunching up in response. “I hate protocols.”

Obi-Wan laughed, not doubting that at all. He could imagine the challenges Ahsoka provided to the creche-masters...and the challenges she would one day provide to her master. 

That would be a brave Jedi.

“You’re sick, little one. I don’t think singing and playing are in your near future,” he offered a compassionate half-smile. “Perhaps tomorrow or the next day.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, dramatically. “It’s so boring in here!”

“Do you like to read?” he asked, thinking of all the books he could retrieve from his quarters. It’s what he would do if he was the one stuck in here. It’s what he had done all the times he was the one stuck in here. 

She fixed him with a stare. “I’m six.”

Oh. Right.

Obi-Wan had done a few rotations in the creche and he’d found he had a knack for teaching the older initiates, but his assignments from Qui-Gon rarely found him in contact with small children. Ahsoka put him entirely out of his element.

“I could read to you?” he suggested.

“Do you do voices?”

“Voices?”

“You know,” she said, gesturing wildly. “Voices.”

He didn’t know. The small huff that signaled her giving up on him led him to believe she could sense his confusion.

Even so, her eyes lit up suddenly. “We could fight!”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he laughed lightly.

Ahsoka glared, as menacing as she could muster. “You don’t think I could beat you?”

“Oh, it’s not that at all,” he shook his head, quickly. “I only meant what with this being a healing ward, of course.”

This seemed to satisfy her and she snuggled back into the covers with a content smile.

“Padawan Kenobi? Do you think–” Her eyes shut and she grabbed at her stomach, suddenly. “Oh.”

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan reached for her shoulder in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Tummy,” she groaned, miserably. “Again.”

He scanned the room for a bin. Spotting one, he summoned it toward the bed and helped Ahsoka out of the covers. She crawled pathetically toward the edge of the bed and immediately began to wretch into the bin.

Obi-Wan watched, painfully helpless against her discomfort. All he could do was lightly rub circles over her small back as she violently heaved. 

She looked up at him with pained eyes. “I’m...I’m sorry about getting sick...on your shoes last night, Padawan Ken–” Her words were cut short as another wave of nausea hit her and she continued to get sick into the bin.

“I have other shoes, little one,” he said softly. “There’s only one of you, though. I want you to feel better.”

She whined in response, coughing weakly. 

“Would you like me to get a healer?” he asked after she seemed to even out. 

Ahsoka shook her head, closing her eyes and hovering over the bucket.

“Does it feel like it’s over or do you think you need to wait a bit?”

She shifted in response, scootching toward Obi-Wan and practically falling into his lap. He pulled her fully into him, snaking one arm around her back and cradling her head with the other. Her small montrals bumped along his chin as she collapsed into his chest.

After a moment, she picked her head up weakly. “Can you...stay here?”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

[jtrokujo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑

paring: Juzzo Susuya x fem!Reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: blood, brutal

gerne: drama

summary: You loss someone very close to you through a ghoul. However, you were rescued by an unknown man that you would see him again, neither of you knew.

—

A woman's life has never been easy, no matter what century you live in, there are always people whose minds are from the previous century.

Since I am a student and have to go to work right after all my lectures it is late in the evening, as I am lucky in an unsafe district in Tokyo it doesn't make the situation any better, apart from the perverted men there are quite a few ghouls in this world, that can turn any person's life into a nightmare at any second.

Sometimes I hate them a little too much, because one of them had murdered my best friend in front of my eyes and then ate it. Since I was in a state of shock, I couldn't do anything, neither run nor scream.

The only thing I could do was let my tears run free.

If he hadn't come that evening, I'm sure I would have been dead long ago.

I don't know his name for it but his looks, it has to be said that his looks don't distinguish that of a 'normal' person, but it's nice to see someone else.

But this charisma that he had was terrifying, my heart beat and beat against my chest every time, while he laughed and screamed by brutally and inhumanly murdering someone in front of my eyes.

Anyone with a sane mind knows that the ghouls are cruel, but just because someone is so cruel you don't have to be like that person, because in the end, until you are just like that person you loathe.

Today is Saturday, my favorite weekday, but why?

Quite simply, no school and no work.

Nevertheless, I am outside and am just about to buy flowers, because today it is 4 months ago that Haruki sacrificed his life for mine.

Just looking back, it makes my back cold.

Instead of the sun shining for him, the rain presents the tears from me for the past months.

He was like a brother to me.

I'm going to graduate soon just so I can become a police officer, it will take a long time, but everything has its time.

Kneeling in front of his tombstone, which was engraved with his name, laid (Y / N) the flowers and closed her eyes for a long time.

For it is now autumn, the sun has already set.

Sighing, she got up and took the subway in the district where she lives, but she was less lucky in which district she is, because this is the district where most murders, robberies, drug trafficking and much more happen.

You have to consider that the rents there are pretty cheap.

Just as (Y / N) was about to take her headphones out of her pocket, she heard distant steps behind her.

Hesitantly she turned around but nobody saw.

She slowly put her headphones where it was before and jogged a little.

Maybe she should run, but what if?

if there really was a person here, or a ghoul and if she should run, what should she do if he was standing in front of her?

When she was about to run away, she heard a loud scream, it sounds like pain and cruel agony.

As reluctantly as she wanted to go there, a question came through her head: "What if it was a person, someone who was attacked by a ghoul?"

Dejected, she started running in that direction, she will probably die any second, but she has to save someone!

If she couldn't save him then at least this stranger could.

When she arrived at the finish, she only saw one back, he was wearing a blue sweatshirt and had black hair, his fingers are clamped to his hair and his screams were louder than before.

Slowly as she approached him, she held her hand in front of her mouth so as not to make a sound - the bad sounds are rising over her head.

A dead man lay before him, covered in blood, his face barely recognizable, his stomach torn open.

When the crying man turned around, her breathing stopped, it was more than just a ghoul, it was someone she knew.

You could say they are good friends "Ken?" she asked softly and looked into his black eye.

Had he always been a ghoul?

Various emotions are brought together through his eyes, anger, shock, fear and, above all, hate.

Without knowing how (Y / N) should feel, a salty tear rolled down her cheek, "Get lost!" he shouted in her face and immediately looked away from her, but how could she run?

While in shock, Ken prefers to focus on the dead man.

The dead man's blood is on the floor, on Ken's hands, clothes and face.

She ran away in fear of the one she saw as a friend.

As fast as she could she ran into nothing, just not with him.

Her breath was loud and since breathing is loud it is easier for her attacker to find her.

When she was about to be free from this area, someone grabbed her wrist, but the person overdid it and managed to break her wrist in a few seconds.

She screamed loudly in pain, but her attacker covered her mouth, she tasted iron ... blood?

Her eyes widened to see that it was Ken who broke her wrist

"I'm sorry, but I have no other choice."

Ken.

Said my mind, I slowly closed my eyes and waited every second until it ended my life when I suddenly heard a laugh.

It wasn't Ken's, definitely not mine, but it sounds so familiar to me.

I opened my eyes and saw a white-haired man in the distance approaching us every second, without really being able to do anything, I closed my eyes and screamed loudly until I heard something drop.

I slowly opened mine and at the same time couldn't feel Ken's arm anymore, but I felt his stomach on my back.

I regret opening my eyes because Ken's arm was there.

All the red blood is all over the floor.

The sirens rang loudly, the lights of the police cars shine towards us.

All weapons are aimed at us, or rather at Ken, they want to kill him.

His body is still close to mine, it was trembling badly.

"Ken, get out of here."

Unfortunately, we both know too well that if he's here a minute longer, he's going to die.

"I am sorry." he said softly and disappeared from nowhere.

Apparently the white-haired man didn't feel like following him but approached me, he lifted Ken's cut off arm in the air and bragged about it in front of the police officers.

Then he looked at me and said, full of joy, "Wait a minute! I know you!"

The fear still lingers in me, so I couldn't say anything.

A police officer approached us and asked me to come along so I can answer the questions that were sent to me.

"I want to come with." said the stranger, and went ahead.

Together in the car he tried in vain to have a conversation with me several times, but how can I?

I saw with my own eyes how a friend of mine is actually a ghoul and an innocent man was just about to eat.

Please let all of this be a bad joke to me.

In one room, the officer questioned me, but if I'm honest I have to admit that I didn't answer all questions honestly.

What would they do with Ken?

Of course they'll kill him and even if he's a ghoul he'll still be my friend, no matter what.

It is clear to me that it is wrong to lie, but I know that Ken, even though he is a ghoul, is not that someone who enjoys killing people or even eats them.

I was given a small bottle of water in the hallway and waited for it to be released.

"Hey." someone whispered and sat down next to me.

"Hi." I whispered back, but my eyes stay on my bottle.

"You don't like to talk, do you?" he asked me and immediately started talking about himself.

Apparently killing ghouls is a passion for him, why exactly I don't know.

But maybe it's his past, who knows.

Juzzo Susuya is his name.

In contrast to the other people I met, he seems to be a little different, not only in character but also in appearance.

These scars that are on his body seem a bit strange, I don't know how exactly.

But one thing is clear to me, he is constantly smiling.

He's probably just happy and if it is then tell me how?

How can anyone be happy all the time since we first met I saw that smile on their face.

To be honest, it scares me a little.

But he seems to be quite young, for where and for what he works.

"Tell me about yourself ... human."

I didn't really give much of myself credit.

Just my name and that I want to work as a policewoman, but I want a job like Juzzo.

I know not every ghoul is bad, but there are too many.

Before Juzzo could talk, someone came and told me I could go.

I got up and wished them a good evening, when I looked at my cell phone to know what time it was, I was a bit shocked that it was shortly before 11 am.

"Hey, (Y / N)!" Juzzo's voice can be heard through the corridor, and I turned around in amazement.

Right in front of me the psycho was standing with a strange grin and said "I'll go with you, because what if a ghoul came out of nowhere, huh? Of course I'll kill him!"

He laughed with all his heart.

Although he seemed nice, he still scares me, but the fact that a ghoul could have intervened any second on the way home made me feel cold.

"Yes, please." answered hesitantly and went on.

On the way home there was a pleasant silence between us, apart from the police sirens the night didn't seem bad like the others.

Every now and then I looked up at the sky and see how beautiful the earth can be.

When I got to my apartment, I got the house keys until Juzzo spoke to me in a different tone.

But it's not that kind of tone that sends a shiver through your spine, no, it's something familiar and yet unfamiliar.

"(Y / N), do me a favor and look for another job, you have seen for yourself how dangerous that can be."

Sighing, I answer "I can decide about my future myself, Juzzo. Take care of yourself."

And so I opened the door and closed it immediately afterwards.

But it's probably also the last time I saw him, someone he'll save my life and ... whatever (Y / N) don't think too much about it.

TIME SKIP

It has been about 3 years after this case.

I am about to buy a coffee from a bakery, but I am buying a small piece of cake for a good friend of mine, but I am not surprised that he likes something sweet.

I got in the car and drove straight to the station, actually nothing special as it is already part of everyday life.

Get up, get ready for work, drive to the bakery to buy a cup of coffee and a small cake and finally drive to the area, nothing special as I said.

Once there, he was already standing in the entrance and looked at the surroundings, but when he saw me he waved his arms up in the air and shouted my name the whole time.

His colleagues looked at him in surprise, but he skilfully ignored them.

"Good morning, Juzzo." I said, handing him his cake, he threw his arms through my waist and also said "Good morning, (Y / N)."

I am happy to have a good friend like Juzzo in my life.

Even if he can be a psycho at times, he still seems to find the right words for you every now and then.

It's hard to believe that he can make me laugh so quickly in just a few seconds.

The work day was not very special today, so I struggled not to fall asleep.

After our release, Juzzo suddenly had the idea of ​​going to the cinema because a new horror film was coming out, seriously?

Dejected, we made our way, while Juzzo chatted about various original murder documentaries, but it has to be said that they are better than horror films.

After Juzzo, strangely enough, paid for the tickets and the snacks, we looked for our seats.

That can be something.

TIME SKIP

"It was completely boring." sigh Juzzo disappointed as we got into my car.

"I can just agree with you."

I started the engine and hit the gas and started driving around town.

There aren't many people to see, but maybe it's better that way.

Just when I had to think of Ken out of nowhere my cell phone was buzzing, bored Juzzo took my cell phone and took it.

"(Y / N) and Juzzo here, what's going on?" he asked, showing my screen, a guoul is sure to be in sight.

We were told where this is and hung up immediately afterwards.

"I love killing ghouls, but I'm so tired today. And all because of this movie."

With a giggle, I said that he could stay with me and drove straight in the direction.

After about 5 minutes we have already reached the finish line.

Annoyed, I took out my gun while Juzzo started running like a psycho.

However, the ghoul did not see it from Juzzo but from me, he let go of his victim so that she could run away for her life and jumped in front of me.

Surprised, Juzzo turns around and screams if he is not enough.

Immediately I grabbed my weapon and immediately made a deep wound on him, of course he wasn't very happy about it and immediately set his claws.

Unfortunately, I evaded too late, so the wounds on my cheek can certainly become scars.

When he was about to take another hit, Juzzo's weapon threatened through his stomach, the ghoul suddenly stopped and spat out a lot of blood.

He quickly pulled out his weapon and beheaded my attacker who was now lying on the floor covered in blood.

Since I do not want that not only my clothes but also shoes are covered with the blood of a ghoul, I tried in vain to get up, maybe I sprained my ankles, but it will be fine.

Juzzo immediately took my gun and asked me if he should carry me, whereby I said that it wasn't too bad and also started to run.

Juzzo hesitated, but he knows himself that it is useless to argue with me.

After what feels like an eternity, we are back home with the help of my car.

Annoyed, I took my laundry and in the next second found myself in the shower.

When I got out of the shower I saw that Juzzo also wanted to take a shower and gave him the spare clothes that I have for him in the closet.

After he was finished we lay down together in my bed and put the covers on our bodies.

I turned off the light and whispered softly, "Love you, Juzzo. Good night."

"Me too."

He deserves the slap in the face.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Just another Sunday and just another chapter. Thanks to all of you who read, like, reblog, comment. i appreciate it more than you know.

thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

previous

AO3

Chapter 4: From Park to Parlay

There’s something rather special about this time of year with the transition from spring to summer when everything is still so fresh and green. The long, light evenings make me feel like I’ve been given an extra couple of hours in my day.

My flat has a balcony. It’s small—just enough space for a bistro table, two chairs and a few pots of herbs—but I love it. I come home from work and sit out there, sometimes with a cup of coffee, sometimes with something a bit stronger. Of course this is weather dependent — I am in Scotland, after all.

But sometimes, like tonight, sitting on my balcony isn’t enough. I want to be outside in all that fresh air and sunshine. Plus, one of my neighbours has acquired a new hobby, apparently. It’s either learning the violin or strangling cats. Although it sounds more like the latter, I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say it’s the former. I have finally managed to identify the piece she’s having a crack at. It’s from ‘Frozen’ — ‘Let It Go’ and I really wish she would.

Besides, if I wander into the park, there’s a certain ice cream kiosk that might still be open. My mouth waters at the thought of their cherry bakewell ice cream. So, I grab a cardigan, keys and a bit of cash, and head out.

As I stroll through the park, I’m thankful that I brought my cardigan. The sun is still warm, but there’s a distinct chill in the shade. Not enough of a chill to put me off an ice cream, though.

The kiosk is just on the verge of closing for the day, but he spies me doing that stupid little pretend run that’s actually no faster than walking and waits. I smile gratefully as I hand over the money in exchange for a double cone. Turning away, I can hear the shutters closing.

There’s a bench nearby, overlooking the pond and still in the sun… unoccupied. I sit down ready to enjoy my ice cream in peace. After the cacophony of a violin bow being scraped painfully across strings, this is sheer bliss — only the sound of a few argumentative ducks and the occasional playful dog. No-one to disturb me, no-one to—

At first, all I can hear are two voices, coming from the path behind me. Nothing above a murmur — one low pitched, the other higher. I can’t make out what they’re saying. Not that I would want to.  The higher voice, a female, is definitely getting louder now. She’s not happy by the sound of it. The other, clearly male, keeps to a calm murmur.

“Are ye telling me I’m imagining things, then?”

I can’t hear the response, but it’s obviously not to her liking.

“I ken she works fer ye.  But she has her eye on ye. I’m no’ stupid. D’ye think I’m a mug?”

The voice sounds a bit familiar but I can’t place it anywhere. Perhaps we go to the same coffee shops or bars or—

“That’s it, James Fraser. I’m going, I mean it... Ye ken where tae find me… this is me, going… bye… I said bye.  Fine, dinna answer me, then.”

The annoyance in her voice registers in my brain. I know why she sounds so familiar— it’s little Miss James-Fraser-isn’t-here-don’t-call-again-ever. Which means that, at any moment, one or other of them might be rounding this corner and think that I was eavesdropping.

Quickly I get to my feet ready to walk away —slap bang straight into Samsonite-owning Jamie Fraser. I take a step back. The first thing I notice is he’s not wearing a white dress shirt this time. He’s far more casually dressed in a plain white t-shirt… a plain white t-shirt now adorned with a large splodge of pink ice cream right in the middle of his chest.

“Oh, gosh, I’m — I’m so sorry,” I stammer apologetically as I fumble in my pockets for a paper serviette or tissue.

He looks up. The vexed expression on his face gives way to one of amusement.

“Claire Beauchamp,” he announces. “I didna recognise ye without yer suitcase.”

“I am sorry,” I continue to apologise as I pass him a somewhat crumpled but clean tissue.

He makes no attempt to leave, but settles himself on the bench and starts to dab ineffectually at the pink stain.

“Was it good?” He nods at the battered cone I am still holding.

“Oh yes, the best. I’d buy you one as compensation but they’re closed now.”

“It’s fine. If I feel the need I can always suck on ma shirt.” He looks down at the stain, glaringly obvious against the pristine white of his t-shirt. “Sae, how are ye doing?”

I perch on the bench next to him. Apparently we’re having a conversation.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I answer politely. “And how are you?”

“Me, I’m no’ sae bad,”  He looks annoyed, then shakes his head and gives a little half smile. “Look, I’m sorry if any of that… er…weel, if ye heard any of that.”

Do I lie? Pretend that I heard nothing? I’m not a very good liar. Geillis always says that I have a glass face, you can see every emotion clearly etched on it and I think she’s right. So I choose to answer noncommittally.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s jes’...” he pauses for a moment, considering his choice of words. “Jes’ … tricky.”

He seems lost in thought. Maybe I need to remind him that his wife-partner-girlfriend-housekeeper has just stormed off and will clearly be awaiting some sort of reaction from him.

“Shouldn’t you be… ?” I gesture towards the path in the direction she must have taken.

“Nah, I’m no’ going after her… no’ this time.” He adds the last bit under his breath.

“Oh, ok.”

“That's what she wants, ye ken. The attention, me chasing after her, making promises…” his voice tails off as he realises what he’s doing.

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldna be blathering like this tae ye. I dinna ken why.”

I do. Sometimes it’s easier to vent, to get things off your chest, to a stranger rather than family or friends. You can pretty much say what you like, confident that it’s not going to come back and bite you, or spread like chinese whispers around your peer group.

“No need to apologise. It can be easier explaining things to strangers, sometimes.”

He smiles. “Ah, but, I dinna think we’re strangers. After all, I’m well acquainted with yer holiday… er...shall we say, accessories.”

If his intention was to make me blush, he’s succeeded. I feel myself redden. “It was a hen party. I had to get into the spirit.”

“So ye say.” He raises an eyebrow as if to question my explanation.  “Och, dinna mind me, I’m jes’ teasing.”

I screw my face up in mock disgust and he chuckles.

“My mam told me never tae pull faces else ye’ll be stuck like that if the wind changes.”

I assume a serious expression.

“That’s much better, Miss Beauchamp,” his face becomes serious too. “But, aye, I get what ye’re saying— about talking tae people ye dinna ken. Ye’ve no horse in this race, as it were. Everyone else that I ken seems tae have an opinion.”

I’m suddenly conscious that the remains of my cone are still in my hand, now totally melted. Noticing my awkward fidgeting, he returns the crumpled tissue to me. I wipe my hands and deposit all the debris in the bin by the bench. He settles back, obviously keen to continue our conversation.

“Sae, are ye up fer giving me yer opinion then about ma situation?”

I’ve never thought of myself as an agony aunt, but I’m curious to know more about him. It’s reassuring to know other people have complications in their love lives too.

“I don’t know enough to give you my opinion, but feel free to unload, if you want to.”

He leans forward, his large hands resting on his denim clad knees and sighs. He has very nice hands with neatly shaped nails, no ragged cuticles or bitten nails. There’s a smattering of reddish hairs on the back. I always notice a man’s hands. Frank had very smooth, elegant hands with long, slim fingers. Jamie’s are much broader than Frank’s, which fits with his whole Viking throwback vibe. I force myself away from his hands and focus on what he's telling me.

“Ye see, ye get tae an age where all yer friends are in couples and having bairns. And ye feel that’s what ye should do, have a proper ‘relationship’.”

I inhale sharply at the way he says the word, so similar to my own thoughts. He glances at me, and continues.

“Ah, ye ken what I mean. And sae ye go along wi’ it when ye friends introduce ye tae a lass. And ye date… and it’s nice, but there’s always that feeling that they want something more, that they want the whole ‘relationship’ thing. They want more than ye can give. And that leads tae disappointment and arguments. They push, trying tae force ye to commit.”

He sits back and looks at me. “Mebbe it’s…och, i dinna ken. Jes’ ignore me. I’m a stupid dolt.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. Honestly.”

“I mean, Laoghaire is a nice enough lass, but it seems the more she pushes, the more I back away. It makes her more suspicious. If I dinna want her, then she reckons I must be after another. What do ye think?”

Do I tell him about her answering his phone? I mean, it seems like he’s coming to a conclusion all by himself. I decide not to volunteer any more information. And I know I said I wouldn’t give an opinion, but I just can’t help it. This is all too familiar to me.

“It is difficult but, ask yourself, is this fair to Laoghaire, or fair to you? Will this keep happening? I mean, I don’t know her, but will she be satisfied with what you are prepared to give? I think you already know your answer. And I think you know what you must do.”

He sighs again. “Aye, I do. But it’s no’ a pleasant thing, is it?”

I shake my head. The image of Frank’s devastation is still fresh in my mind. “It never is.”

The bench is now in shade, and it’s cooled down a lot. I shiver and wrap my cardigan tightly around me. Time to head home, I think.

“Aye, ye’re right. Time tae go.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about the evening chill, or what he needs to do about the whole Laoghaire situation.

We both stand up at the same time. He extends his hand, and I take it in mine, which is more than a bit grubby and sticky, with the odd bit of tissue still stuck to it.

“Thank ye for listening, Claire, and fer yer opinion. It’s been a big help tae me. I dinna ken what it is but I feel I can talk tae ye. And I promise, next time, it’s yer turn. Ye can vent like ye want tae me and I’ll do the listening.”

“Will there be a next time?”

He smiles. “Oh aye, I’m sure there will be.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 78: The Great Provider

Chapters: 78/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, Alarr Is A Little Bitch Now And Forever, Seriously Bull Cults Are Super Old, And Super Important

Summary:  You face the bull.

“There's a lot of people looking at me.” Your father whispered to you, fiddling nervously with a crumbling slice of dark buttered bread. “Your asshole beau got me good this time.”

Seated on the other side of you, Loki sighed. Of course he could hear, even with the din of the First Feast all around. You shook pepper onto a peeled, boiled egg.

“It wasn't planned like that.” You whispered back. “All of the humans are seated on this side, me included. The planners just thought you should be next to me.”

On the one hand, you were glad your father was acknowledging your relationship without major pushback. On the other hand, insulting a prince within earshot of that prince, and many of his vassals, was probably not such a good idea.

“I mean, I can ask them to change the seating order. Put you down at the farthest table, with a bunch of Asgardians you've never met.”

He shuddered. “You wouldn't. My own daughter wouldn't do that to me, her poor old father, who has so few years left to him. You wouldn't show such cruelty to a vulnerable old man.”

“Yeah, yeah, you've got one foot in the grave already. You could fall over dead any minute now. You're practically dust.”

“Well, that might be going a little far.” he huffed. “I've still got some vinegar in me.”

“You even talk like an old man.” you teased. “Besides, you don't get to pull the Old Man Card, and then complain because I play along. Make up your mind.”

You passed him a serving bowl full of bilberry porridge, and he dipped some out. One thing your father was always willing to do, was try new food.

“Speaking of, what counts as 'old' to these folks?” he asked. “You've been saying some stuff about that, but it seems unbelievable.”

“You gotta start believing this stuff, Dad.” you chided.” It's all real. I know it's hard. My head has been swimming for months. But it gets easier to accept the more you learn. Anyway, for an Asgardian, about five thousand puts someone firmly into the 'elderly' category, but for an Aesir, like the king, or Saga, or Loki, the sky is the limit. I can count the number of kings Asgard has had in it's whole history on one hand. They just live that long.”

“Five thousand? Damn. That's...That's like, pyramid building times, isn't it? Say...did they...?”

“No, they didn't build the pyramids. I already asked. And even if aliens did build them, it wouldn't have been Asgardians” you pointed out. “They would have been in the north, making, I dunno, runestones? Longships? Something like that. The people in the north never really did the large-scale monument building like they did in Egypt. But Asgardians sure did. You saw the paintings of the old palace?”

That thing that looked like a pipe organ? Yeah.”

“So, if they were building our monuments, they'd have looked like that, wouldn't they?”

“Okay, but what if it was different aliens? We know there's more than one kind of alien.” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but...I never found out if the other gods of the world were aliens or not. But even if they were, I'm pretty sure the pyramids were built by humans, even if they were built for their gods.”

“They were.” Loki interrupted. “But they also made for interesting sight-seeing expeditions for many peoples across Yggdrasil, so yes, aliens visited Earth quite often in your distant past.”

Your father clammed up and glared. After a few awkward moments, Loki turned back to his plate, passing along a crumbly cheese that turned out to be similar to feta. You added some to your grain salad.

Just get through dinner, you thought to yourself. Why did the men in your life always have to be so difficult?

Time was left between courses for the making of toasts, and there was a lot of back and forth-between the Icelandic dignitaries praising the Asgardians for being such gracious hosts, and the Asgardians praising them for hosting all of Asgard in the first place. There were toasts for the Avengers in attendance, though they were somewhat subdued; the Maximoff girl was still a fairly controversial figure, Dr. Banner continued to be visibly uncomfortable with the attention, and the Vision was simply not as well known. But they were dutifully honored nonetheless, and then the humans of Trolerkaerhalla turned their adoration on you.

'The People's Seidkona', they called you. 'The bridge', and 'the Huldra shield'. Even 'the Sapphire Brand', a kenning Loki had invented for you, which made you wonder what he had been discussing with his worshipers when he was out working on the longhouses.

The dessert course was mixed dried fruit, cooked down into a compote and served over bread.

It was also the last course before the slaughter of the bull, for tomorrow's Second Feast.

You'd told Tara and your father about it, to mixed reactions. Tara was repulsed, but your father, who presumably saw more dead animals along the side of the road than you would be comfortable with, seemed to take it in stride.

“Someone has to do it.” he'd said, “They gotta get to the plate somehow. Sucks, I know. There's no way out of it?”

“It's tradition.” you'd sullenly explained. “And it's really old. Like, Proto-Indo-European old. Back when kings used to be worshiped and held responsible for everything. If the crops failed, they sacrificed him. So it was in a ruler's best interests to make sure his people were provided for. I think, eventually, the bull became a stand-in for the king. I don't know if the Asgardians influenced us in this case, or if it was the other way around, but there's a whole deep layer cake of symbolism involved, and I really do have to participate.”

The bull and the ruler. Symbols of power, fertility, plenty, and prosperity. It was poetic, in an ancient, rustic kind of way.

You had thought that you had it all together, but when you heard the bellowing sound of the bull somewhere close, and your heart clenched in your chest.

Suddenly dessert didn't taste so good.

                                                                              ******

There had been an arena built between tables for the bull to be driven into, with a raised platform that you were currently perched on, holding a goad with a trail of ribbons at the end. You would be enticing the bull towards you with the movement of the ribbons, and once it was within range, Loki would strike.

Then the beast would be butchered on the spot, to prepare for the next nights festivities. It would be very educational.

The human guests had been informed of what was about to happen, and of course, the Asgardians already knew, but they still cheered you on anyway. Skaldic students picked up a slow drum beat, that pulsed like a heart.

How many thousands of years worth of rulers and seidkonas doing this? Odin and Frigga had done it. Bor and Bestla had done it. Buri and Audhumla had not-the holiday hadn't been declared until after Buri's passing. But one had to assume that they all gazed out from Valhalla, within it's great black hole, and saw what their descendants were doing. Presumably, Buri could now see that two people who had no true relation to him, were now the ones honoring him. How would he feel about that?

The bull bellowed behind the gates, the sound echoing and distorting strangely. Loki lurked next to the platform, waiting. This wasn't going to be like a matador facing down an angry beast. This was going to be an ambush.

The gates slowly begin to open, and your adrenaline spiked into the sky.

Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes

The bull entered the arena and you froze in shock, almost completely forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

The bull was...wrong. It was completely still, standing on a board on wheels. It did not walk into the area, but was pushed. It's head was oddly textured, almost shiny, and strangely shaped. It bellowed again, weird and distorted, but did not open it's mouth.

Its strangeness blended into your anxiety, becoming a potent cocktail of revulsion and dread. Loki patted the platform next to you, and you started, jerking your ribbons to and fro. The bull bellowed one more time before Loki strode up to it, and, with one smooth and elegant swing, beheaded it.

There was no blood. The wound was hollow, and the head sprouted the legs of a child as soon as it hit the ground, running around and mooing irreverently to the amusement and obvious confusion of the audience.

It was fake. It was a fake bull. Loki had mentioned to you that you need not worry because he had taken care of her bull problem, but hadn't had time to elaborate before you'd had to scramble up the platform. You would have never guessed he meant this.

With a flourish, Loki whipped the tanned hide off the bull, revealing a hollow armature beneath, within which was an ice-covered table, piled up with cuts of meat, bowls of organs, piles of stew bones, and a bucket of blood. The bull reduced down to its edible parts, all ready for tomorrow's feast.

The drums stopped abruptly, the child who had been hiding in the paper-mache bulls head discarded it to the side and ran off into the cheering crowd, as people came forward to carry away the bits of bull.

Loki draped the bull's hide over his shoulders and helped you down from the platform.

“Did I not tell you?” he said smugly. “I took care of it for you. Truly, the symbolism is the most important part, and this speeds the process along so that we may get to the dancing all the sooner!”

“That was freaky as hell!” you scolded. “You shoulda told me it was gonna be a fake! I spent that whole time all bent out of shape because of it, ugh, what a lot of wasted sleep!”

“In my defense, I didn't find out that you were troubled about it until yesterday. I had only a limited time to come up with something.”

“And you decided to stuff a kid in a fake bull's head? That's what you came up with?”

“That's Beli's youngest great-great-great-grandson, and he volunteered! My dear, what's wrong? I thought you would prefer it this way?”

“I do!” you huffed, irritated. “But I need you to start telling me when you do things like this! How am I gonna do my job if you already make all the decisions by yourself? Stop trying to surprise me all the time. I froze out there because of it! What did that look like to everybody else, huh?”

“I think they were too captivated by the bull to take notice...” he didn't sound so sure. “But yes, you are right, of course. It is a bad habit. I will be better.”

Somewhat mollified, you took his arm and allowed him to lead you to the dances.

                                                                              *******

“It's an insult!” Alarr raged. “He reduces our history to mere spectacle!”

“It may have been for convenience.” his wife pointed out. “Our Midgardian guests need more frequent rest. It wouldn't do for his Highness' little seidkona to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Do not call her that!” he snapped. “She doesn't deserve the title! What part of her is a seidkona? The part that graces Loki's bed? Or the part that gets into cat fights with her betters? This is exactly what I am talking about though! The Midgardians are weak, but we are the ones expected to lower ourselves to their level? If they cannot keep up, they shouldn't be here! The prince is a fool, and the Allfather merely enables him. Together, they will reduce us to infants.”

“Watch your tone with me, Alarr. I tire of your temper.”

“And I tire of watching our culture and people be diminished for easier consumption by outsiders. When does it end? If even our holy days aren't exempt from foreign influence, then what part of us can we really expect to keep? How much can we be diluted, and still remain Asgard?”

“Alarr, this obsession has already cost you dearly. And not just you, the whole family has been impacted by it. You are so preoccupied with everything you're afraid we're going to lose, that you don't see the harm that you are doing to us yourself! Now you may sit here and let your rage rob you of your Buridag, but I'm going back out there to enjoy myself! Stars know, I've had precious few chances to do so lately!”

She stormed out, leaving him behind to seethe.

                                                                       ******

“That was so weird.” Todd said. “I thought it was going to be a real cow.”

“I'm glad it wasn't!” another camper exclaimed.

“Yeah, me too, but why did they go through all that rigmarole about what was going to happen, explaining the whole thing, telling us not to fear, and then wheel out a meat-filled piñata instead? Did they think we were gonna think it was real? Like, are we toddlers to them?”

“Maybe? They're all hundreds of years old, aren't they? Even the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I feel like that's a problem though. I mean, think of the advantages they have over all the rest of us! I can't help but feel like they will eventually have a disproportionate amount of global influence, just because of the monumental projects that they can put together with that longevity. And like, I know the longhouse squad might not mind having alien overlords, but I'm sure not excited about it.”

“Global superpowers rise and fall. That's just history.” another camper said. “Are you sure you aren't just worried that yours might be overshadowed?”

“No need to be rude.” Todd chided. “People were rightly worried about super powered individuals before these guys even showed up. I mean, look at what happened to Sokovia! When I was a kid, that kind of thing was unthinkable! Now we've gotta worry about nukes, and terrorists, and school shootings, and climate change, and now alien invaders and supermen on top of all that? It's no wonder people are so worried. Did you know these people haven't even signed the Accords? What do you think that says about them?”

“Hey, I'm not disagreeing, man. I'm skeptical too. But they're refugees all the same, and it's only been a couple years. I figure they're just trying to get adjusted before they go committing themselves to anything big, you know?”

“And that's fair for the average Asgardian. As far as we know, they didn't do anything wrong. But Thor...you know, as much as I like him, he's been involved in some pretty destructive events. And the least, I mean, the very least he could have done to show some kind of good faith with Earth, would be to turn his brother over to some kind of justice. But he hasn't; he's just let Loki flaunt every authority. The man committed a felony, he kidnapped my girlfriend, and...nothing! He's not allowed on United States soil, but he did it anyway, and nothing has been done. I can't help but be resentful, who wouldn't be?”

“I know what you mean, but then why did you come to this shindig, anyway?”

Todd shrugged. “I just wanted to see that she was okay, you know? We weren't perfect, but we really had something, and I just want to make sure she's okay. She didn't look okay, up there with that fake bull, and I don't like it. I know her; she's kinda delicate. All this is gonna be too much for her.”

“You have a lot to say.” interrupted an unfamiliar, accented voice. The little knot of campers jerked to attention. A young man stood nearby, arms crossed, glaring.

“Uh, yeah...” Todd said. “To my friends. Who are you?”

“Fritjof.” the stranger said shortly.

“That's the mutant.” one of the campers whispered urgently. “We saw him out in that fight, remember? He throws fire!”

“Oh.” Todd held his hands up in front of him. “Hey man, we don't have any beef with you. No need to lose our tempers or anything...”

Fritjof snorted. “Somehow, I doubt this.” he sneered.

“Frit!” A woman cried, then rattled off a quick sentence Todd could not understand. Fritjofs intimidating stance softened, and he answered back.

“I'm going to dance now.” He told Todd. “Be a more gracious guest.”

Several of the campers let out the breaths they'd been holding, as he left.

“What a freak.” One of them muttered.

“Don't know what his problem is, but I think he could use a class on minding his own business.” Todd said.

“So, you wanna go dance?”

“Not really, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to go see what it's like.”

                                                                              ******

The dancing was energized and frenetic; stomping, clapping, twirling, leaping. It was full of laughter and celebration, messy and unchecked. The commoner's dances were danced by all, and you had thrown yourself into them with relish. From arm to arm you passed, jumping and shouting in time with everyone else.

You danced, and spun, and bounced, finally ending up panting back in Loki's arms.

“Come, sit with me.” he said. “You need a breather.”

He sat you down in one of the covered seats, wrapped you in his cloak for extra warmth, and pressed a cup of hot cider into your hands. The community continued to dance, some breaking off to rest, some jumping back in. You simply watched, sipping your cider as Loki twirled Sjofn, Thor kicked with Wanda, and a very tall Asgardian lady tried to entice an increasingly uncomfortable looking Dr. Banner. Even Gloa seemed to be having a good time, though you noticed Alarr was nowhere to be seen. Andsvarr, however, was dancing for all he was worth, and rarely let Saldis out of his grasp. It was cute, but not as cute as Tara, slightly drunk off buttered rum, flirting openly with several very confused Asgardians, or your father, trying hard to avoid Dr. Banner's fate.

Loki whirled his way back to your side, and plopped down next to you, but must have noticed you were fading.

“It has certainly been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked. “Would you prefer to return to our rooms?”

“Yeah. As much as I'd like to stick around, I'd really need some sleep.” you admitted. “Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow too.”

“Then shall we?” He offered his arm, and somehow the two of you slipped away without much notice.

“Are you going back out?” you asked, as he tucked you comfortably into his bed.

“Yes, for a little while longer. It's best that my brother and I be seen out among the people for as long as possible. I'll be back later. Sleep soundly, my dear.”

The rigors of the day caught up to you quickly, and you had no inkling of how much time had passed when you finally felt him slip into bed next to you, smelling of sweet crystal mead.

[ejzah]

Could you do a fanfic where kensi has to go undercover as a model?

A/N: This prompt was sent a very long time ago. I apologize for it taking so long. This is set in season 4 and may deviate a little from canon.

***

Top Model

***

“This is the best day ever,” Deeks muttered, unable to hide his wide grin. He was situated at the end of a long runway next to several other, actual photographers who snapped rapid fire pictures of the models walking past.

He peered through the viewfinder of his camera, taking several pictures as a heavy beat vibrated through the room and a woman in a mustard yellow dress with a deep slit and feathers decorating the bodice stopped directly in front of him and gave him a sultry stare.

“See something you like?” Kensi asked, sarcasm filling her voice. She was somewhere backstage, waiting for her own turn to catwalk down the runway. He wasn’t sure what strings Hetty had pulled to get his and Kensi’s aliases, Bobby Harper and Rosa Black gigs at a fairly high profile fashion show 12 hours before the event started, but he was infinitely grateful.

Not only did he get to wear a shirt that cost more than his monthly salary (a nice change from all the utility uniforms of late), but he would also get to see Kensi live out her ANTM dreams. He wasn’t sure which of them was more excited.

“Mm, not really my type.” His camera whirred again, capturing the daring stance of a read-headed model in a deep green dress. Kensi made a rude noise, not exactly fitting with her current persona.

“I thought any woman that doesn’t run away is your type.” He grinned again, holding back a chuckle, reminding himself that it would look a little strange if he started laughing at nothing. “Ooh, what about the leggy brunette headed your way?” Kensi waited for the model to stop in front of him and then added. “Her name’s Jasmine and she likes long walks on the beach.”

“She sounds delightful, but still not my type,” Deeks muttered. He had a different leggy brunette in mind who would probably gut punch him if he ever dared to call her “leggy”.

He took several pictures on auto pilot, thankful that no one would actually be scrutinizing them for quality. His photography skills were satisfactory for crime scenes, but probably not quite magazine worthy. “Did you see anything interesting back stage?”

“Other than two models getting into a fight over a pair of Louis Vuitton shoes?” Kensi said. “Not really. There was too much chaos to focus on one thing.”

“Now that I would have loved to see.”

“Creep.” He grinned again at her mild comment. Two more models stalked by, giving their own variation of the same overly dramatic stance. Lowering his camera for a moment, he quickly swept the room to see if anyone was giving particular notice to a single model.

One of them was suspected of selling sensitive information to a foreign government. Nell and Eric had traced the sales of similar information back to several other modeling events over the past two months. They were still trying to figure out how their suspects, mostly in their early twenties and without criminal records, had attained classified information.

Sam and Callen were in the audience, keeping an eye out for their buyer. So far they’d been pretty silent though.

Three more models emerged from either side of the runway amid a cloud of manufactured mist. As the fog cleared, Kensi walked out, and the beat of his heart suddenly matched the rhythm of the music. She wore a dark blue evening gown, the plunging bodice clinging to her torso until it reached her waist and flowed down into several full layers of sheer material. Half her hair was swept up to the side with the rest fell around her shoulders in soft curls.

She looked absolutely stunning, and more importantly, confident. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as she strutted down the runway. As she drew closer to the end, Deeks heard a rush of whispers from the other photographers, wondering who she was.

Kensi paused in front of the them, her skirts swirling around her dramatically as she stopped. She glanced to him, her eyes making contact for the briefest of seconds. In that moment see saw a hint of uncertainty and then pride as the whispers continued and a dozen cameras flashed around her. She gave an extra twirl before she headed back down the runway.

One of the photographers said something about winning an award for her pictures and Deeks smothered a smirk. Kensi would get a kick out of that. To bad said pictures would never see the light of day.

“Guys, I just saw one of the models, Jenna Martinez, talking to a guy. He looked about 50 years old with gray hair and a dark blue suit,” Kensi said a few minutes later, sounding a little breathless. “I’m sending you a picture.”

“Did you see what he gave her?” Sam asked. “Coulda been a lot of things. Drugs, money in exchange for other services...”

“No, all I could see was a white envelope. But models aren’t supposed to leave styling area in between walks without permission though. If someone caught her, she could risk getting kicked out of the show. That seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Kens, check it out,” Callen decided. “Deeks, figure out a way to get out and back her up. We’ll see if we can find Kensi’s mystery man.”

“Got it. Deeks I’ll be back where they store the extra wardrobe.”

Deeks sat through two more cycles of models, conscious they had limited time before the area would be swarming with with even more people once the show had finished. He took the opportunity to slip away when one of the models took an unfortunate fall after tripping over the train of her dress.

Surprisingly, no one questioned why he was wandering around back stage. The stylists and make up people seemed completely consumed with making sure the show stayed on track to wonder about his motives.

“Kens,” he whispered when he found the storage area empty.

“Right here,” she answered, appearing from one of the many closets, still dressed in the evening gown. When she noticed his raised eyebrow, she added. “I didn’t have time to change.”

They passed through a couple dim hallways, taking a less direct route to the locker area to avoid running into anyone.

“You watch the door.” Kensi headed to the second row of lockers, sinking to a graceful crouch.

“Did you really bring your lock picking kit with you?” he asked, glancing through a crack in the door as she pulled something from the top of her dress.

“Nope, bobby pin,” she said holding it up with a smirk before she pried it open with her teeth.

“How very resourceful of you, Nancy Drew.” He nodded in appreciation as she inserted the straightened end into the keyhole.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” After a minute or so of wiggling it around,

she swore under her breath. “Damn it. It’s like there’s rust or something stuck in here and it doesn’t want to give.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?” he asked, checking the door again. There was no one in the vicinity so he left his watch and crouched beside her.

“I don’t know, Deeks!” Kensi snapped, blowing out a long breath. She glanced at him a little sheepishly as she removed the pin and started over again. “Sorry. It’s just that this usually takes me about 10 seconds.”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t happen to have any WD-40 tucked in there too?” He nodded to her chest and she slanted him a wry look, but didn’t look too annoyed.

“Right next to my wrench and screwdriver. I think-“

“Wait,” Deeks interrupted, making a hushing sound. “I think someone’s coming.” He rushed back to the door as quietly as he could. He couldn’t see anyone yet, but he heard voices and footsteps, drawing closer every second. “Kens, someone’s coming. We have to get out of here.”

“Just one more minute,” she insisted. “ I think I almost got it.” The lock made an audible click and Deeks winced at the loud creak as Kensi swung the locker door open and pulled out a Dior purse and a cloth shoulder bag.

“Kens-“ Ignoring his warning, she dumped the contents of both bags onto the floor and a collection of makeup and clothes fell out along with a medium sized envelope. Kensi snatched it up, tossing it in his direction and started stuffing the rest of the things back in the locker, not taking time to worry about neatness.

Heart pounding, he shoved the envelope in the inside of his pocket, glancing around for somewhere to hide. Two men were walking down the hallway, making a beeline for the locker room.

“Ok, let’s go,” she whispered, reaching for his hand as she stood up.

“No time,” he hissed back, tugging her further into the room. Kensi made a surprised sound when he pushed her up against the lockers and added, “Please don’t hit me.”

She didn’t have time to respond before he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

***

A/N: I clearly do not know much about modeling or fashion shows so I went with what I do know fairly well. Densi. Hope you enjoyed and there will be a part 2.

Thanks for the the prompt anon!

[oikirstein]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | Kuroken | Day 1

Synopsis: Kenma has has loved his best friend, Kuroo, for a lifetime. After a misfortunate occurrence which was photographed by the media, the PR team for Bouncing Ball Corp. decide that it’s a good idea for Kenma and Kuroo to play along with the public to increase the sales of their upcoming product release. Will Kenma be able to control his emotions, or will he lose his best friend in the process?

Contains: Angst, unrequited love, fake relationship

Posted: 12/21/2020

Word count: 3,342

Haikyuu Angst Week Prompt List here.

I have been in love with Tetsuro Kuroo since I was seven years old.

I still love him—eighteen years later.

Growing up as best friends, he was never a hard person to love. He looks out for me, brought me out of my comfort zone, hell, he’s the reason why I’ve grown into who I am today. I’d never admit that to his stupid face, though.

I was seventeen when I realized my love for him was more than just platonic. He was a year older than me, so by the time I started my third year, he was already off to university. The harsh reality of the situation finally weighed heavy on me when I waited outside of his house for thirty minutes and remembered he’s not coming anymore.

He called me later that evening apologizing, although he did nothing wrong, because that’s just the type of person Kuroo was. The next week he surprised me by waiting outside my door to walk me to school.

“I miss this,” he reminisced, staring up at the sky.

“What?” I turned to him, heart racing just a little more than usual, hoping for a certain string of words to come out of his mouth.

“Walking to school like this every morning.”

They didn’t.

I don’t know what I was hoping for. Maybe I wanted him to say he missed walking with me. I’m not sure whether I’d rather hear lies or the truth. That was the day I admitted to myself that he’d be the only person for me.

Now here we are, me at 25 and him at 26 sitting in my office with my publicist yelling at us for being so reckless in public. It was a misunderstanding, really.

“How could you do that at a party where you knew there’d be press coverage?” Kata was pacing back and forth while I rested my forehead on my crossed arms that laid on the glass desk and Kuroo leaned back in his chair on the other side of the table.

��Kata,” she stopped mid-stride and turned her attention to me as I muttered, “how many times do I have to repeat myself,” I lifted my head back up, “IT ISN’T WHAT YOU THINK.”

Kuroo found it difficult to hold back his laugh.

“I don’t think you should be laughing, Kuroo-san. You’re in just as much trouble as Kozume-san.”

He stopped laughing.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think. It was never about what I thought. The point of my job is to make sure you look good for the public. Thats what a publicist does. Now the issue here, is that the public thinks you’re dating.”

“Okay, wow so all it takes is for me to fall, Kuroo to catch me, and some no-name photographer to snap a picture of us for us to be considered ‘dating’ now?” 

“Kozume-san if you play into this little charade, say for a couple months, just long enough for the new product to be released, sales will go up, and then you can just announce that you two called it quits.”

Was it really worth playing with my heart just to earn a quick buck? 

“No. I don’t want Kuroo to be forced to date me, that’s weird and embarrassing.” 

Kata walked forward and took a seat in the chair next to Kuroo before she leaned forward and rest her chin on her hand, “Here’s the thing Kozume-san, you two ‘dating’, doesn't even have to be real,” proud of her award-winning idea, she leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her chest, and a smug look written all over her face.

“So what you’re saying is to do this as a cash grab?” Kuroo seemed genuinely curious.

“Well somewhat. Think of it more like...fan service.”

“Hmmm...I mean if it’s a show they want then it’s a show they’ll get,” he reached over and smacked my back, “What do you say kitten? Be my scene partner?” he smirked.

Ugh. Why does he have to use those stupid nicknames that always make my heart flutter. My face was visibly cringing as i scrunched up my nose and scowled at him. He knows I could never truly refuse when it’s him.

“Fine,” I mumbled under my breath as I looked away.

Kuroo’s footsteps were light as he got up from his seat and went around the desk to sneak up behind me. He bent down and leaned in close towards my ear.

“What was that, puddin?” he whispered, his hot breath whipping through my loose strands of hair.

I jumped out of my seat and rubbed my ear with the sleeve of my jacket and he laughed his ugly, stupid, hyena laugh. 

“See! Look at that! You two aren’t even ‘dating’ and yet you have so much chemistry!” Kata said enthusiastically while clapping.

Of course we have chemistry. We’ve been best friends for eighteen years. Soulmates our whole lives. It was always easy to be around Kuroo. That’s one of the things I love about him. Why wouldn’t we have chemistry?

“Well, when you’ve been best friends with someone for like, your whole life, of course you’re gonna know exactly how to push his buttons,” his voice was breathy as he wiped tears from his eyes.

I didn’t realize it then, but I truly did sell my heart for pocket change.

A full month later was when we went out in public together as a “couple” for the first time. It was a simple brunch at a well known restaurant, but Kata made sure to anonymously tip paparazzi that we would be at that establishment. Together. It wasn’t even 30 minutes into our meal when we were bombarded with cameras.

“Today we are here with Kenma Kozume, the young CEO of Bouncing Ball Corp., and his supposed boyfriend, Tetsuro Kuroo, from the Japan Volleyball Association. Are any of you able to speak on the rumors spreading about the two of you?”

Kuroo had always been good at talking. He's been smooth with his words for as long as I could remember him. He was...a people person. The complete opposite of me, which is why we agreed that Kuroo would do most of the talking, should a camera crew show up.

He laughed, not the ugly hyena kind, it was an attractive laugh. That’s how I knew it wasn’t real.

“Well I mean we won’t confirm or deny anything right now, won’t we kitten?” he winked at me and suddenly all the attention was directed towards my direction.

Idiot. Two can play at that game.

“Im pretty sure whatever the public is thinking is probably true, hm Tetsu?”

I’ve never called him that before, so it was obvious he was shocked. Big eyes and blushy cheeks. We gave the camera exactly what it wanted.

“Is that a confirmation?” the man behind the camera was provoking us for an answer.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he smirked before taking his chopsticks back into his hand and grabbing a plate full of beef, “Now if you gentlemen will excuse us, we’d like to continue our lunch date.”

Satisfied with the content they would now be able to work with, the cameras slowly started retreating from the scene until it was just us two again.

“Damn maybe I should’ve gone into show business,” he smirked.

“Shut up, they might still be around,” I whispered while looking down, incase we were still being watched.

“How do you know I was talking about that. I could just simply be saying that I would’ve been amazing on T.V.”

“No you wouldn’t,” I replied, monotonous voice, as I took a bite of some barbecue and rice.

“Kenma, why do you have to break my heart like this? What if I was born to be an actor?”

“Uhm I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen an actor that has the same hairstyle twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year.”

“That’s a technicality. Why should hair define my amazing acting abilities?”

“Then I want to see you shave your head and wear a wig.”

Kuroo froze in the middle of whatever movement he was making and just stared at the grill in the middle of the table with a horrified expression written on his face.

“You know what? Maybe I wasn't meant to be an actor...”

Outings usually continued on like this. We would have little interviews with paparazzi, slowly dropping more and more hints about our “relationship,” and once they left, we’d have breakfast, lunch, or dinner, like we usually do. I suppose to any outsider it would seem as though we were on a date, but I wouldn’t allow myself to call this pitiful get together as such.

I could pretend this was real. I could tell myself that Kuroo reciprocated my feelings. I could tell myself that we were truly in a relationship. I could tell myself I have a chance, but a mere sliver of probability isn’t worth risking our friendship. 

Since I was seventeen I accepted the fact that I’d be happy as long as he was in my life. I mean, he’d still smile the same. He’d still laugh the same. He’d still love me... 

I’m supposed to be content with what I have. It’s either we stay as best friends, or we go on as strangers, and I’d rather avoid the latter. So why do I feel such a tightness in my chest whenever we’re forced to go out together? Why do I feel so selfish for wanting more?

Two months went by until we had to make an actual appearance together at a party. Me under Kuroo’s arm like some sort of bittersweet candy. 

He was always good at reading people—especially me. Which is why he pulled me aside before we walked into the huge rental house. The only reason I agreed to show up was because it was Shoyo’s team celebrating their win against some team who’s name I can’t remember.

“You okay Ken?” he rested both hands on my shoulders with my back against the wall.

“Yeah, I just need a second.”

I never did like big crowds.

After taking a few minutes to breathe before submitting myself to the abyss of rowdy adrenaline-high athletes, Kuroo took my hand in his as we walked through the front doors together. It was warm. Like my fingers were molded to fit perfectly into his palm. Must’ve been why I felt so cold when he let my hand go.

As soon as the camera flashed and Bokuto called him from the other side of the room, he whispered an “I’ll be back kitten,” before joining the beefy player by the bar. 

I guess I’ll go find Shoyo.

It wasn’t long until I saw a bush of bright orange bobbing up and down through a sea of people.

“Shoyo!”

“Kenma!”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you! I wouldn’t want to disappoint my sponsor,” he winked, “Do you want to step outside? It’s a little loud in here.”

Whether he means to or not, Shoyo’s always been good at making sure people feel comfortable.

“Uhm, Shoyo?” I grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged a little to get his attention.

“What’s up?” he practically had to yell over the loud music and the incessant yelling of the surrounding people.

“Can we get a beer first?”

A smile spread across his face, “Of course, just wait for me by the fire outside.”

I followed his instructions and sat in one of the red lawn chairs that snaked around the circular bonfire.

“How’ve you been?” the ginger said while handing me an opened beer and sitting in the chair next to me.

“I’ve been alright. Things are running smoothly for the product release—”

“I didn't ask about how work was, Kenma,” he interrupted, “How are you?”

“Oh. Uhm...I’m keeping it together.”

He leaned back in the plastic chair and took a sip from his drink, “So you and Kuroo-san, huh?”

I looked around to make sure no one was near us. I could never lie to Shoyo.

“Barely,” I mumbled as I, myself, took a big gulp.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s an act. All because of a misunderstanding from a few months ago.”

“Well did you have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“That's unfortunate. I thought you would’ve told him how you felt by now.”

“Wait- what do you mean ‘how I felt?’ You knew?”

“I may not be that bright, but I have eyes, Kenma. I can see the way your eyes gloss over when he calls you one of those cute pet names, or the way your cheeks redden when he does that weird laugh at your jokes.”

“Hmm... You’re more observant than I thought, Sho.”

“So why haven’t you told him?”

Just thinking about confessing scared the shit out of me. All I can imagine is the disgusted look on his face when I tell him. The scenario plays over and over again in my head—the one where he walks away and fades into the background. I don’t know when I started crying, but I had only realized it when I heard the glass of Shoyo’s bottle tap the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

I wiped the hot tears from my cheeks with my wrist.

“I guess I just love him too much to lose him.”

Two weeks after that party, we had another meeting at the office.

“This has been going great so far!” Kata exclaimed, obviously proud of her idea, “Have you ever thought of being an actor?” she teased Kuroo.

“See! That’s what I’ve been telling Kenma, but apparently my untamable hair is standing in the way between me and fame.”

“You’re already all over the news, idiot.”

“And all thanks to my little kitten,” he walked over to my seat behind my desk and peppered my cheek in kisses.

“We’re not in public, you can stop acting all lovey dovey,” I spat. I didn’t even think about my words until Kata’s effervescent expression changed into a state of confused shock. She wasn’t sure how she should react to my outburst.

“W-what? It’s all fun and games, Ken,” Kuroo was taken aback by my response as well, but he hid it much better than my publicist.

“It always is with you,” I got up and walked out of office. I couldn't take it anymore. All this pretending and toying with my heart. I felt bad for blaming it all on Kuroo, when he couldn’t have possibly known about my feelings, but it was easier to blame him for my pain than to admit to myself that I’m a coward. 

I rounded the corner and continued on my way to the vending machine to get an energy drink. Those always seemed to put me in a better mood.

Kuroo knew me well. Who wouldn’t after eighteen years? That’s probably why he knew exactly where to find me.

“What the hell was that, Kenma?”

I pulled up the tab of the can and let the hiss of carbonation fizzle out before I took a sip and leaned against the wall.

“What was what?” 

“You’re little scene in there? What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’re lying to me.”

 I looked off to the side, my eyes scanning every row in the vending machine, “I just think it’s time to call quits on this charade we have going on,” I responded dryly.

“Huh? Why? It’s only a couple more weeks until the release. Why end it now?”

“I’m tired, Kuroo. I don’t want to have to pretend all the time anymore.”

I was never an emotional person, so I knew that in this moment Kuroo knew something catastrophic was going on inside my head, for me to put myself before the potential success of the company.

“It’s just for a little while longer and then we can go back to normal, okay? Can you just hold out until then?”

“No. You’re not listening to me. Why the hell do you want to keep doing this. This doesn’t benefit you in the slightest.”

“Because I love you,” my heart rate went up at these words although I knew he didn’t mean them in the way I wish he did, “You’re my best friend and I want to see you thrive.”

“Why are you always putting yourself on the line for me?”

“Putting myself on the line? What are you—”

“I’m so selfish! And then you over here,” I rolled my eyes at him before kicking my weight off the wall, “You constantly give but you never take!”

“I don’t see the issue with that.”

“You’re too good for me,” I looked to the ground because I knew that if I looked up into his gorgeous hazel eyes, I would definitely cry. 

“That’s not true—”

“Yes it is and you know it,” my voice was on the verge of cracking from how tired I was from arguing.

“You know what? You look like you need some space. Think about things okay? I’m only a phone call away. I’ll see you at the launch party,” he walked away.

The day of the launch party was a bore. Just a bunch of business men in suits and the growing anxiety in the pit of my stomach, for Kuroo had yet to show up like he promised. 

It was half-past twelve when I stepped outside the venue to get some fresh air. The second I opened the doors was when I saw him pacing back and forth, deep in thought.

“Kuroo?”

“Kenma! I’m so sorry about what happened a few weeks ago—”

I did nothing but hugged him like I was going to lose him.

“Why are you apologizing? I was the one that had a tantrum.”

“Well you’re not the only one that got mad.”

“Let’s go for a walk?”

He nodded and draped his heavy arm over my shoulder before he took another step.

“Well so far sales have been good. Almost linear.”

“I’m glad I was able to help. So this is the end, huh?”

We both stopped in the middle of the side walk. I didn’t want it to end. The handholding, the hugs, the camera kisses. I wanted all of it. I so badly wanted all of it to be real. Maybe it’s because I spent half the night drinking, or maybe it’s because his midnight hair ricocheted the moonlight ever so perfectly, that I felt a courage rush through me like never before.

“Why does it have to end?”

“Didn’t you say like three weeks ago that you wanted to end our little ‘relationship?’”

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean,” I unwrapped myself from his limb and stepped in front of him, “I’m in love with you, Tetsu. I have been for eighteen years.”

A piece of my heart cracked when he took a step back, face pale, and eyes widened.

“What?”

I wanted to take a step forward, but for some reason, my feet were glued to the ground.

“I love you.”

He smiled assuringly before he laughed to lighten the air. The same type of laugh he’s used to fool reporters. 

“You’re my best friend, Kenma.”

“I know. I’ll never be more than that, right?”

“You know I love you,” I wouldn’t dare get my hopes up again at those words, “You’re like a little brother to me.”

Damn. Is this what it feels like for my heart to be so irreparably shattered? Physical pain spread from my chest throughout my body. To the tips of fingers and toes.

“I—” he started, before giving you that diabetes inducing smile, “I should go.”

I watched him walk away. It was a vision from my worst nightmare. When did it all change? Is this what my selfishness was bound to lead to?

What was supposed to be a simple marketing tactic, turned out to be a fate worse than death. I was heartbroken to think he was my soulmate, but I wasn’t his.

© all content [unless stated otherwise] belongs to gellysticks 2020. do not modify or repost.

reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

[fixxofvixx]

Stay With Me - Demon Leo AU - Chapter 24

Hello my dears, I meant to have this out earlier but to be honest, this has been a shit week for me and my family. If anyone is of the praying sort, I wouldn't refuse a few sent our way.🙏

I enjoy writing. It's my escape. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think~💖💖

😈😈😈😈😈😈

Your heart did backflips when you heard Leo call the woman 'mother'. You hadn't even met Leo's father but knew he was an evil demon. From what you had gathered from his mother, she was no different. However, she seemed to listen to the will of her son. Perhaps you didn't have to fear as much from her.

"Leo, sweetie, we need to talk about this. Marriage is a big decision. Ravi already sullied the Underworld with that human of his...." Her voice sounded annoyed as she ended her sentence with a sigh.

"Mother, speak again of my wife that way and I'll make sure you have a front row seat in the Underworld." Ravi appeared behind Leo, barely containing his rage.

"Your threats mean nothing to me. What do I have to fear from my own sons? I haven't heard from your father but I am sure he doesn't approve of this."

"That doesn't matter, I killed him." Leo stood, hauling you into his arms as he did. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck, hoping he would teleport you both out of this situation. Although, you were sure she could follow.

"YOU WHAT?!" You flinched when his mother screamed. Her voice echoed throughout the meadow. You heard a few birds escape from their trees, flapping wildly to get away.

"He attacked me, we fought, and we both died. Y/N sacrificed her soul for mine and was sent to the underworld. I went to get her back, Hakyeon offered his soul so she could come back here. End of story." Leo explained in a monotone voice and then turned to his brothers. "I'm going back to the house, you're welcome to come.

Ravi and Ken nodded, keeping a close eye on their mother. Apparently trust ran thin in their family.

"Let's go back home, okay?" You nodded and in an instant, you were back on the sofa. It seemed as if it had been a lifetime since you were on it even though it had been an hour or so. The dagger was still sitting on the end table where you had left it. You vowed never to touch it again.

A few seconds later, Ken popped in, as well as their mother.

"Ravi said to let him know if you needed anything, he's going to take those three down." Leo nodded and then looked at his mother.

"So, would you like to tell me why you're here and why you attacked my girlfriend?"

"Leo, dear, don't use that tone with me. You know very well why I'm here. The seal on the palace was broken. I thought that maybe your father had finally come so his senses but apparently it's because you murdered him."

"He came here and started the fight. I only defended what was mine. If the seal was broken, shouldn't you be with your lover?"

You eyes widened at the venom in Leo's voice. The story was thickening and you suddenly wanted to hide in your room.

"You dare!" Lightning sparks went off around the room and you instinctively braced yourself. Leo put his hand on the back of your head as he stood next to you, a gesture of reassurance.

"You know I do."

"At any rate, I couldn't go there because your father had him killed so what was the point. So, naturally, I came looking for my boys!"

"Nice to know that we came second." You could see the tiniest bits of black smoke hovering around Leo's feet and you knew that he was reigning in his anger.

"That isn't the point. What we need to discuss now is why this little idiot is in your forest, living as she pleases!"

"Watch your mouth." You looked up at Leo and saw his fangs descend just before his eyes changed. You squeezed his hand and he took a deep breath.

"But Leo, Cresenda is still waiting for you. She's been loyal all this time! How could abandon her...and your child?!"

You choked on the gasped of air that went down your throat the wrong way at his mother's words.

"Child...?" That one word was all you could manage.

"Yes, he's a lovely little boy! He--"

"Mother! Do you really think I believe all those lies?! He isn't mine!"

His mother ignored him and sat next to you.

"I'm afraid he is, my dear. Do you really think he's lived all this time without creating offspring? I don't know about you but I would hate to be the person that broke up a family." She patted your hand and looked at you with sorrowful eyes. You didn't believe a word of it. Before you could say something, Leo knelt down in front of you.

"Y/N-"

"If Leo says he isn't his, then he isn't. He wouldn't lie to me."

"Of all the outrageous...! I demand you leave at once! I will not see another one of my sons with a human!"

"I won't leave unless Leo asks me to." You had been through so much with Leo and you'd be damned if anyone would take that away.

"Do you realize what I could do to you? I have developed an art for torture most people have never even dreamt of!" His mother's smoke started to wrap around one of your hands but it was quickly taken over by black smoke. In almost an instant, black smoke swirled protectively around your body.

"Try it and you'll be dead before you even touch her." You looked up at Leo to see that he had gone full demon. His hair, eyes, claws, and even his wings were on display. He looked even more furious than when he had saved you in the town center.

"Leo, you need to come to your senses! Humans are the enemy! Why do you think your brothers are dead?!"

"Because father attacked one of the villages in search of a rumor of a powerful object. The people retaliated and went after the whole family. That's why. The humans didn't start anything."

"But they still think that way!"

"That was over 400 years ago! You have been sealed in the palace for the better part of 250 years. Don't you think that things have maybe changed?"

"But Leo--!"

"Enough. Must I banish you from my forest? We have a happy life here, don't try to destroy it as you usually do."

"You would banish your own mother? After all I've done for you?!" His mother's own smoke began to rise from her feet and her features began to change. Leo grabbed you hand and pulled to up to stand behind him.

"Don't try to delude everyone into thinking that you were a caring mother. You stuck around long enough to give birth to us and then carted us off to the nanny. We all are aware of why you were sealed in the palace. And if you dare to touch one hair on y/n's head, I will not hesitate to put you back in there, or under it. The choice is yours."

"You would turn your back on your own mother and betray the memory of your brothers who died at the hands of humans just to protect this lump of flesh?! You used to be the most ruthless out of your brothers. What happened?"

Although you had been called worse, hearing Leo's mother despise you so much sent a small pain through your heart. You supposed that you were destined to live in this world without any semblance of a mother.

"Out." Leo's quiet voice was scary. In his tone you could hear the pent up rage he was desperately trying to control.

"Leo!"

"OUT! NOW!" You flinched as his voice echoed loudly in the house. Ken, who had been silently watching from the other end of the room, stepped forward now.

"Mother, shall we go see Hakyeon? I'm sure he would love to see you." Ken placed a careful hand on his mother's arm.

"Yes, perhaps I should. At least he should see reason. He knows how humans are." After her statement, she huffed and then disappeared along with Ken.

You stood motionless, listening to the ragged breaths coming from Leo. He was seething. His hands were fists at his sides. His black smoke nearly covered the entire living room. Reaching out, you gently ran your fingers over his wings. After a few seconds, Leo took a deep breath and turned to you.

"Y/N..." He stood before you and took your face in his hands. You raised your eyes to see that the fangs were gone but his hair was still misplaced. "Are you alright?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was okay?"

"Not at all. I'm sorry. I had no idea that father's death would release her. Not to mention you had to deal with those hunters. I shouldn't have left so soon after you getting hurt."

"I'm a bit overwhelmed but I will be okay. Your mother seems pretty upset."

"I don't care. I only care about you and this forest. She has no say here." Leo leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled and circled your arms around his waist.

"I think we have a lot to talk about." Leo tensed and you raised your hands to his face now and curled them around his cheeks.

"Were you planning on telling me about your apparent girlfriend who is still pining away for you in some far off land?"

[three-drink-amy]

Sweet Creature

master list - AO3

Chapter Twelve

Claire’s alarm went off far too early the next morning. She was used to waking up early to open the bakery, but she was also used to being able to fall straight to sleep the night before. Last night had been an exception. After Jamie had left her, she’d tried to go about her nightly routine, same as always. But once she climbed into bed, she couldn’t sleep. A permanent smile graced her face as she laid there and replayed her evening. 

She was paying the price for it now, though. Grogginess was overtaking her as she fought to wake up. An idea struck her and she sat up to grab her phone. Texting Mary, she let her know she’d be in late that morning and Mary needed to open on her own. She felt a bit bad for doing so, but Mary replied almost immediately and said that was more than fine. Pumping her fist in the air, Claire laid back down and curled under her blankets again. 

As she willed herself to fall back asleep, she heard a knock at her door. Groaning, Claire pulled herself from her bed and threw her robe on over her pajamas. She smacked her hand against her face to try and wake up a bit. Opening the door, she was blown away to see Jamie standing there with a broad grin on his face. 

“Morning, Sassenach,” he greeted, almost too cheerfully. 

“Hi,” she said groggily. “What are you doing here? Do you know that it’s 5:00?” 

“Of course I ken what time it is. But I ken ye have to get up verra early to open the bakery,” he replied. “And I brought ye breakfast.” He pulled his hands out from behind his back and revealed a bag and a carrier with two coffee cups. 

She tilted her head as a smile crept across her face. “You did?” 

He grinned, stepping closer. “I did.” Holding out the bag to her, he stepped in and shut the door behind him. 

She opened the bag and saw two wrapped breakfast sandwiches sitting at the bottom. “I thought McNally’s closed.” 

“Nah, they just moved.” 

“Huh,” she said, looking back up at him. “This is so sweet. But why? What, are you trying to cram as many dates in as fast as possible til we hit a number that’s proper to get in each other’s pants?” she asked with a laugh. 

He didn’t look amused though. His face fell as he opened and closed his mouth. “No.” He looked genuinely hurt by her comment. “I can go,” he said, turning for the door. 

“Jamie, no!” she called, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing. I promise you I didn’t mean it.” She put the bag of food down on the table by the door. “Please stay and have breakfast with me,” she pleaded, reaching up to cup his face. “It was truly such a sweet gesture.” 

He didn’t say anything, just nodded in reply. Claire smiled at him as she picked up the bag of food and walked to the table. Jamie grabbed her coffee out of the carrier and set it in front of her and then did the same for himself. She did similarly, handing him his sandwich and taking hers. Taking a bite, she groaned. “God, this is good. Thank you.” 

A grin widened on his face, making her feel a bit relieved. “Ye’re welcome.” He took a bite of his own sandwich. “What do ye usually have for breakfast?” he asked. 

“Do you remember when we shared that flat after we both moved here?” Jamie nodded. “And how you got so angry that I wasn’t eating breakfast that you made me breakfast each morning before I went to class?” 

Jamie laughed. “Aye, I do remember. I believe I asked what kind of doctor doesna ken to eat breakfast.” 

Claire cackled. “The kind that doesn’t actually become a doctor.” She laughed to herself. “Anyway, after you moved over here, I pretty much went back to my old habits.” 

Jamie’s eyebrows raised at her. “Are ye serious?” She nodded. “Ye dinna eat breakfast?” She flashed him a guilty look. “Woman, ye should be smarter than that. What, do I need to start making ye omelets again every day as I used to?” 

“You know I wouldn’t say no,” she replied with a grin. “You made some quite good omelets.” 

“Aye, I still do. Because I’m smart enough to eat my breakfast,” he said with a shake of his head. “Full of proteins and vegetables, and all those good things.” 

“Well you know, that offer sounds nice.” 

“It wasna an offer, I was making fun of ye,” he told her. “Ye think I’m getting up at 5:00 each morning to make ye breakfast? And then what shall I do until I go to work at a reasonable hour?” 

Claire chuckled to herself. “You could come to work with me and take up a second job.” 

“Rupert and Geillis gave me a hard time for having a job at all,” he reminded her. “What would they make of me taking on a second position?” 

They shared a laugh as they kept eating. Claire took a long swig of her coffee. “You know, I hadn’t quite considered all the plus sides of this arrangement.” 

“This arrangement?” Jamie asked, a confused look on his face. “I never agreed to making ye breakfast each morning.” 

She shook her head, smiling. “I didn’t mean that. I meant...us.” She reached out and held his hand. “This.” He nodded, looking down at their hands. “I’ve never dated someone who already knew all my preferences. Like my coffee order.” 

“Are ye saying I have a leg up on all the other men ye’ve dated?” he asked with a smirk. 

“As if you didn’t already know you would.” 

He leaned closer to her, drawing her in. “I canna say I mind that.” And then, he kissed her. They shared a look before continuing to eat their breakfast in a comfortable silence. 

After she’d finished, she picked up her coffee and planted herself down on her couch. Jamie followed suit and sat down right next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he’d done many times before. This time, she felt no hesitation as she leaned into him. He glanced down at her and she pressed her lips to his. His response was immediate as his hand moved to rest at the back of her head. She spared a thought for what a mess her hair must be, but then his tongue glided along her lip and she ceased to care about anything. 

She parted her lips for him, her hands resting against his face. They kissed languidly, only breaking apart for a short breath before meeting again for a longer kiss. She turned, pressing him further against the back of the couch. He pulled her onto his lap, his arms coming around her. His hands moved up and down her back. One brazen hand roved further down, gliding over her arse. She squeaked against him. 

He pulled back from her, panting slightly. “Sorry.” 

She laughed, readjusting herself on his lap, now straddling him. “Don’t be. I was just taken a bit by surprise.” She leaned down and kissed him quickly. “I was just suddenly aware that it was you grabbing my arse.” 

He looked up at her, a mixture of concern and amusement on his face. “And do ye have a problem wi’ that?” 

Claire took his face in her hands, leaning down until she was nearly kissing him again. “No.” She crushed her mouth back to his, showing him just how comfortable she was with his touch. Both of his hands squeezed her arse this time, making her groan into his mouth. 

He broke away, planting kisses along her neck. “Ye have the finest arse,” he breathed against her. “I’ve always thought so.” 

She gripped his hair and pulled his head back some so she could look at him. “You’ve always thought so?” she asked. 

He nodded with a smug grin. “Oh, aye. Why do ye think I let ye walk ahead of me all the time?” 

Claire smacked his chest while fighting a grin of her own. She leaned back in and kissed him punishingly. He held her close, moaning into her mouth. Things were escalating between them faster than they should. Claire thought of what she was wearing and realized that he could have her naked in three small movements. That thought both concerned and exhilarated her. 

He seemed to be aware of how things were moving between them. As he resumed his path of kisses down her throat, he said, “I should leave soon.” 

Claire sighed under his attentions. “You don’t have to.” 

He kept plying her with small kisses. “Ye have to get to the bakery.” 

She smirked at him, leaning down to kiss him quickly. “Did I tell you that I’ve been giving Mary more responsibilities?” 

Jamie looked confused, wondering why she decided to mention it now. His hands squeezed at her waist. “No, ye hadna.” 

Claire nodded before kissing him again. “Yeah, I have. With the third store opening out of town, I thought it would be a good idea.” 

“Sure,” Jamie agreed, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. 

“Which means that this morning, Mary is opening the store,” Claire informed him with a wild look in her eye. 

“Is she?” She nodded, leaning against him as he clutched her tighter. He looked up at her, a sly grin forming on his face. “Well then.” His hand cupped the back of her head and brought her back down to him. 

They met again in a flurry of movements, hands drifting, tongues dancing. As Claire tried to get impossibly close to him, her hips rolled against his. Jamie groaned, his hands tightening on her. “Christ, Claire,” he breathed. “Ye canna be doing that.” 

She kissed along his jaw, humming in response to him. “Why not?” 

“Because it makes me want to take ye right here, right now and I dinna think either of us really have the time for that this morning.” 

Claire felt devious, rolling her hips against him again, eager to see his reaction. His arms locked around her back, flipping them over so she was laying on the couch and he was over her. She squealed as her back hit the couch. He bore a smirk, staring down at her. “I’ll no’ have ye teasing me, thank ye verra much.” She laughed loudly, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He brought his head down and kissed her sinfully. 

She broke apart, needing to catch her breath. “And you call me a tease.” He grinned before he moved his mouth, kissing a path down her neck. His body slowly lowered til he was hovering just above her. She rocked her hips against him again. 

Jamie pulled all the way off of her, standing up from the couch. “Alright, I best be off.” 

“What?” she cried, laying there, feeling incredibly riled up. He walked around the couch to throw his trash away before heading to the door. “You’re just going to leave me to go to work like this?” she asked. 

He leaned over the arm of the couch and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Take a cold shower,” he advised with a grin before walking out the door. 

Claire laid there for a minute, shaking her head at what had transpired that morning. She jumped up and got her phone, clicking quickly on his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Yes?” 

“How cold will your shower be this morning?” she asked, a hidden smirk on her face. 

Jamie laughed on the other end. “Arctic.” 

She made a satisfied noise. “Good,” she said, nodding to herself. “Oh, and Jamie?” 

“Aye?” 

“Thanks for breakfast.” 

“Anytime, Sassenach,” he promised her. “How would ye feel about dinner too?” 

“Three meals in twenty-four hours?” Claire asked. “I think I’d be okay with that.” 

“Perfect. I’ll see ye tonight then.” 

Claire grinned. “I can’t wait.” 

* * *

In the weeks that followed, there had been many more meals together and, more importantly, many more makeout sessions on one of their couches. There was a silent agreement between them that things wouldn’t progress that far. Neither had to mention it to the other, but a line existed between them. Though they spent nearly all their free time together, they still had some awkward moments as they tried to get used to going from a friendship to a romantic relationship. 

It had been three weeks since they’d first kissed and admitted their feelings. Claire was up in Jamie’s flat, on his couch, and on top of him. His hands held firmly onto her ass, their new favorite place. She was kissing him, her tongue deep in his mouth. He moaned against her, clinging to her tighter. His hands started to drift, one sliding up and under her shirt, gliding against her skin. 

She sighed into his mouth at the heat of his hand against her bare back. Her hips pushed down and his rocked up to meet hers. She could feel him beneath her, straining and ready for more. Her mind flashed images of them together, no clothes between them. His arms pulled her further down to him, like he could read her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if tonight might be the night they crossed that line. One of his hands came back around, grazing her breast and cupping it over the shirt. His thumb flicked against the nipple, making her grind her hips against him. 

“Ah dhia, Claire,” he groaned. She did it again, feeling him grow harder beneath her. If he kept making noises like that, she wasn’t going to be able to stop. He seemed to be feeling a similar way, as he held her firmly against him while he kissed his way across her chest. Both his hands found their way back under her shirt and she wondered if he was going to just strip it off of her. She wouldn’t hate it if he did. Her hands ran down his chest, before she brought him back in for a long, heated kiss. She continued to move her hips against his, teasing him, really. He moaned her name again, making her feel even more powerful. 

Her mind chose the very worst time to work against her. Jamie’s hand was weaving tightly in her hair, keeping her against him, while his other slid against her back. He sighed her name. But this time, she couldn’t help but wonder. How many other women have done this very same thing with him? They didn’t last very long. How long will we last?

She froze on top of him. Her mind brought her to a complete halt. Jamie’s hands moved to cup her face as he looked up at her, concern coloring his expression. “Are ye alright?” 

Claire nodded, unable to say anything else. She crawled off him, sitting at the other end of the couch. He sat up, staring at her. “We should take it slow,” she said. 

He nodded, trying to catch her eye so she knew he was fine with it. “Sassenach, that’s fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, we have been.” 

She couldn’t look at him. “Then we should take it slower.” 

Jamie reached over, laying his hand just over hers. “Okay, then we will.” 

Tears built in her eyes as she looked over at him. “You’re okay with that?” 

He shook his head in confusion, scooting closer to her on the couch. Hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he replied, “Of course. Whatever ye want.” 

She turned slightly toward him. “What about what you want?” 

“I want whatever ye want,” he insisted. 

Her arms wrapped around him, laying her head against his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Dinna thank me,” he scoffed. He ran a hand up and down her back in a very different manner than he had just minutes ago. Now, he was clearly trying to comfort her, though he didn’t know why. He grabbed his remote and turned on the tv, handing it to her to pick what they watched. 

* * *

A few days later, Claire let herself into Jamie’s flat, feeling conflicted. He peeked around the corner of the kitchen and grinned when he saw it was her. “Sassenach! Ye’re just in time. I just finished dinner.” She walked into the kitchen, a blank look on her face. He kissed her quickly before he stood back. His brows knitted together as he took in her expression. “What’s the matter?” 

She sat herself down at his table with a sigh. He sat down with her. “I got the word today that everything is settled for the Edinburgh branch. I’ll be heading there on Sunday.” 

Looking over at him, she saw the fleeting moment where he looked crestfallen. But he quickly plastered on a smile and congratulated her. “Sassenach, that’s great!” 

She shot him a look. “Jamie, you don’t have to do that.” 

“Do what? Be happy for ye? Yer business is expanding. No matter what, no matter when, that’s great and exciting. I’m proud of ye,” he assured her. Standing up, he walked back over to the counter and grabbed two plates. He sat one down in front of her, noting her still morose expression. “Claire, this is a good thing.” 

She sighed. “I know it is. It’s just that the timing...the timing sucks.” 

He frowned, nodding in agreement. “Aye, it does. But that doesna mean ye shouldna be excited for this big opportunity.” 

“I know that too. We just started dating, though,” she reminded him. She picked up her fork, stabbing a vegetable. “I guess I just wish we’d had more time.” 

Jamie tilted his head, looking at her with a curious expression. “Are ye breaking up wi’ me?” She looked up, concerned until she saw his grin. “Because Edinburgh is no’ that far away. And I’ll still be here when ye get back.” He reached out and took her hand. “We can handle it. What about that time ye went to France and studied the art of baking for the summer before ye started medical school?” 

“We weren’t dating then,” she pointed out. 

He nodded. “Well, aye. But I still felt like I had to talk to ye all the time and we figured out a way to do that. And that had a time difference!” 

“Just an hour,” she reminded him with a laugh. 

He picked her hand up and kissed the back. “Claire, we’ll be fine. Tis no’ forever. Just a while.” 

Claire stood up out of her chair and walked over to sit in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“What for?” 

She kissed him again quickly. “I don’t know, for being supportive.” Her hand laid against his cheek. “Not many boyfriends of three weeks would be that selfless.” 

“I canna say I’m being selfless, really,” he said, resting a hand on her leg. “I mean, I’ve been invested in yer bakery a lot longer than I’ve been invested in our relationship.” 

She laughed, laying her head against his shoulder. “You’re the best.” 

He turned his head to meet her gaze. “Ye just have to promise to come back to me. Ye canna find some handsome man in Edinburgh and then never return.” 

Claire snorted. “Well damn, that cancels out the plans I’d already made.” 

He laughed, squeezing her leg. “Dinna play wi’ my emotions like that.” 

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “There’s been no one else for ten bloody years. I think you’re fine.” Jamie’s face shifted and he opened his mouth to say something. Claire panicked that she’d said too much and kissed him instead. “I’ll be coming back,” she whispered. He nodded, holding her gaze. She gave him another quick kiss before she walked back to her own chair. 

“I suppose I’ll have to keep up my tradition,” Jamie said as they kept eating. 

“Your tradition?” 

“Of being the first in line at yer new store,” he reminded her. “I was the first in line for the first shop and then again for the second shop.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Does doing something twice count as a tradition?” 

“Perhaps, no’. But that’s why I’ll have to do so on this one. Then it’s officially a tradition,” he promised with a smile. 

Claire shook her head, laughing at him. She looked down at her plate as she took another bite. “Did you plan on me being here tonight?” she asked, looking over at him.

“No, but I had plenty,” he said with a shrug. 

Her hand crept over and her fingers moved slowly up his arm. “Was my plate going to be your lunch tomorrow?” 

“Perhaps,” he replied offhandedly. “But I’d rather share it wi’ ye and just throw something together for lunch.” She squeezed his hand, a broad grin on her face. 

* * *

Sunday afternoon, they were standing outside the train station. Claire’s bags were on the ground next to her and her arms were wrapped tightly around Jamie. He kissed the top of her head, holding her. “I’ll come if ye’re no’ too busy,” he promised. “And we’ll talk on the phone.” He pulled her back slightly so he could meet her eyes. “Tis no’ like yer moving.” 

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I know. But it’s gonna be a while before I’m back.” 

He leaned down and kissed her soundly. “I know. But we can manage. I promise.” 

Claire looked up at him, nodding halfheartedly. She surged up to kiss him again. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down. They staggered backwards a bit and his back hit his car. He sighed as her fingers tangled in his hair. 

They pulled apart just as quickly as they’d started. “I should go before I miss my train,” Claire said regretfully. 

“Aye, ye should.” He kissed her forehead. “Call me when ye get there, alright?” Claire nodded. “And ye know, any time ye’re bored after work.” She smiled. “Or if something notable happens. Or unnotable, really.” 

Claire reached up and wiped her lipstick off his lips. “Do you just want us to be on the phone any time we’re both not working?” 

He smiled, looking down. “Dinna tempt me wi’ such an offer.” He glanced over at the station. “Ye should get going.” 

They stared at each other, both of them holding back the sentiment they’d really like to say to the other. Claire nodded once, picking up her bags. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Talk to ye sooner.” He leaned down and they kissed again before she had to walk into the station. Jamie stood there and watched her go, wishing he didn’t feel so miserable. But he knew that if that was the price to pay for getting to be with Claire, he’d gladly pay it. 

Next chapter

[mobius-prime]

279. Sonic the Hedgehog #202

Dangerous Territory

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Matt Herms

As Sonic and Monkey Khan make their way towards New Megaopolis, Sonic questions Khan on a few things, trying to get some details straight. Conveniently for us, he didn't pay attention at all to Khan's explanation of the situation to Sally, meaning that Khan gets to dump some good old-fashioned exposition on us throughout the issue. Just as they hit the city limits, they're attacked by a few members of the Dark Egg Legion, and Sonic questions why the Legion would bother remaining loyal to the new regime now that Eggman no longer has a stranglehold over them. Lien-Da appears and gloats that she refuses to ally herself with Knuckles, as though that would be her only other option in this world, before unexpectedly calling her troops back. Then, she calls in someone new.

So, remember these guys? They were mentioned in passing last issue, but you might recall their first appearance being all the way back in SSS#8, when Monkey Khan went up against them - a clan of bat ninjas, who used to be an ordinary band of thieves until the Iron Queen came along and killed their leader, the Bride of Rich Nights. This led to an immediate transference of power, and now they serve the Iron Dominion, along with the other three major clans as hinted at in the last issue. Khan hopes that no one else will show up as backup, but his hopes are dashed when the Iron King himself arrives for some fun.

They decide on a head-on assault against the Iron King, which seems utterly idiotic considering they literally just discussed how he's essentially invulnerable, and predictably get thrown back. Things seem to look up suddenly as Espio arrives on the scene, but unfortunately for Sonic, he didn't get to witness last issue's backup story…

As Sonic deals with Espio, whom he's initially certain is under some form of mind control, Khan fights against Lightning, who brags that he's regained his honor and place in the "Raiju Clan" under the Bride of the Conquering Storm. I will say that though this whole era isn't my favorite, I do appreciate the obvious effort that Ian has put into the worldbuilding here. Most of it is revealed through action rather than bland exposition, and it's quite well developed, if you ask me. The vast majority of the action of the comic has taken place in North America (or its equivalent, anyway), with occasional forays into South America, Europe, and of course Australia. Africa still remains relatively ignored for now, but we're finally getting some more substantial insight into the cultures that inhabit Asia in this universe, beyond the vaguely Chinese-esque villages we've seen here and there thus far.

Anyway, Sonic and Khan realize pretty quickly that they're vastly outnumbered, so Sonic pulls the "Sally said this was a recon-only mission" card to get out of having to admit he was wrong about this being an easy win, and he and Khan get ready to make a speedy exit.

The Iron King orders that they be let go against Lien-Da's wishes, as he's the "let my beaten enemies run and tell everyone else how powerful and terrifying I am" type. Sonic runs and tells, all right, though with substantially less fear than the Iron King might have liked, informing Elias, Sally, and Knuckles of what he and Khan found. Knuckles is particularly perturbed at Sonic's report, since he was under the impression all these years that Espio was native to the Rainbow Valley on Angel Island, not some sleeper agent from a secret ninja clan in the East. I suppose he never stopped to consider just how obviously Japanese Espio is, huh? Never stopped by your buddy's house in New Mobotropolis, Knux ol' boy? Granted, those details only began to be included in his characterization in this universe after Sonic Heroes came out, but still. Sally notices Khan brooding in the back of the room, and goes to try to reassure him, and they have a Moment™ where they insist the other call them by their first name instead of by titles. Ken Khan, even in the midst of your angst, you still have eyes for Sally, huh? However, his mood doesn't improve, as he mutters to himself about how this is just another failure under his belt and he's turned out to be a pretty terrible king. At this point, the ending text of the story basically goes "WHAAAT?! MONKEY KHAN IS A KING?! WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING?!" but like, this isn't a new plot point by any means. In StH#60, the very same issue that originally introduced the Iron King and Queen, one of the characters explicitly states that there's some ancient prophecy about a monkey king and Ken Khan is clearly it. I suppose I had just assumed that he'd taken up that mantle at some point in his long absence, but maybe Ian is just banking on everyone having either forgotten or never read that old issue in the first place.

A Lonely Girl's Story

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Jamal Peppers Colors: Matt Herms

So if there's any character who's seriously in need of some backstory right about now, it's the Iron Queen herself. That night while she and Snively are lounging around in her bed (…ahem), he asks her about her past, and though she's not happy about the subject she concedes to tell him her life's story. She was born into a cult of technomages in an Overlander city called Megacentral (…is it just me, or do all Overlander cities in this comic have really stupid names?), and grew up learning how to control electronics with her mind.

Honestly, I'm not sure what purpose this brief panel of Jules and Uncle Chuck chasing her down serves, as all it does is appear to make them out to be the bad guys. I mean, at this point in her backstory she's actually quite a sympathetic character, having been totally wronged by society for something she never had a choice in. Regardless, years of living on the run and looking after herself hardened her heart, and she became vengeful, vowing that the cult would live on through her (the implication being that every other member was executed) and she would rule the world with her power. She eventually happened upon the Dragon Kingdom and decided this was the perfect place to seek the power she wanted, and pledged her allegiance to the local warlord Jun Kun, who is, of course, the Iron King. Snively asks for more of the story, such as how she and Jun Kun ended up married and working for Eggman as regional sub-bosses, but the Iron Queen claims she's too tired to want to continue the story, and they go to sleep for the night. Man, poor Iron Queen. I mean, at this point she's an insane megalomaniac, but she really did not deserve the crap that happened to her - she likely wouldn't even be a power-hungry dictator if it wasn't for the cult disaster.

[hibibun]

Playdate

Series: Persona 3 Pairing: Minato Arisato/Ryoji Mochizuki  Summary: Minato had only planned on walking home and taking a nap, but as usual Ryoji has to complicate things in such a way that he finds himself unable to complain. Ryoji comes to visit and Minato gives up on trying to sleep. Warnings: Existential dread, Depression, Allusions to parental death AO3

There was no delicate way of explaining why Ryoji coming home with him was a bad idea. Mitsuru had explained that outsiders who weren’t aware of the existence of shadows and the true nature of S.E.E.S.’s operation weren’t really allowed over, though no one had expected a person like Minato to bring someone else home.

It was one of the few days Minato himself didn’t feel like he had to rush around working this job or participating in that after school club. He had more or less implied he wanted to go home and sleep, but as usual Ryoji insisted he had already gotten enough sleep in class.

So in true Ryoji fashion, the teen followed him home anyway insisting that he wanted to see his room. Seeing as the majority of the people who lived at the dorm had other extra-curricular activities that needed taking care of—thankfully including Aigis who had surprisingly gone somewhere with Yukari and Fuuka after school—there was hardly anyone else home. Mitsuru herself had been beyond busy and likely didn’t have the energy or time to scold him properly if she knew. The only other person was Ken and Koromaru, one of which was smart enough not to blab about the dark hour to strangers and the other who could only be understood by his mechanical friend.

Interestingly, Koromaru didn’t give the same hostile reaction Aigis did upon seeing Ryoji and merely perked up an ear when they entered. With a brief scratching of the dog’s ear, Minato didn’t linger downstairs, fully intending on taking his nap whether Ryoji was there or not. He certainly hadn’t invited him over and if the other got bored and left that was his problem.

He just barely had the energy left to climb the flights to his room while paying half a mind to Ryoji who was rambling on about something that happened during the lecture he’d been sleeping through. The second they reach his room, Minato does little else than drop his bag and slip out of his shoes before face first falling into bed.

“It’s strange how you’re still this sleepy despite sleeping through most of class. I don’t know how you get away with it honestly,” Ryoji laughs as he takes a moment to similarly slip out of his own shoes and leave his bag near where Minato haphazardly dropped his.

Of course the other teen doesn’t even bother answering while Ryoji takes it upon himself to start glancing about the dorm and noting how mostly empty it is. The only point of interest he ends up finding is a lone laptop on the desk.

When Minato stops hearing movement on Ryoji’s part, it’s obvious he needs to see what’s happening and the fact he’s gotten comfortable makes it even more irritating that he needs to flop over.

“Hmm… not that one,” Ryoji mutters to himself and Minato’s frustrated he can’t see what the other’s doing still as his back is obscuring his view, but he has a pretty good guess.

“Not that eith—” Ryoji starts again, before being interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Minato asks, finally bringing himself to sit up in bed, though he hasn’t actually gotten up.

Ryoji’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of some more typing, before joyously turning back, “I guessed it on the third try; not bad, huh?”

Minato makes it clear by his expression he’s not impressed and without needing to ask Ryoji as usual picks up on what it is he wants to say.

“Well, I know you said you were gonna’ nap, but that’s kinda’ boring and I’ve never been in here before so…” Ryoji starts to explain while clicking through folders.

“Jeez Minato, do you do anything on this thing? All I can find is your music folder and… is that an MMO? You never told me you played this! We could play together.”

It’s at that Minato figures his attention and input isn’t needed and he can maybe get some sleep. Considering how dead that MMO was the few times he popped on, if Ryoji could even find it somewhere he’d surely get bored after a point with only two other people to play. That of course was even with the assumption that Minato would feel up to it, though the student doesn’t deny as much as he wants to that the thought momentarily passed through his head.

Playing things with Ryoji was a pain though because while it was satisfying the times they managed to have good synchronization; more often than not the other was too animated and didn’t listen.

“You’d get bored quick,” he supplies, not bothering to elaborate on why.

“Mm, I don’t know, though I do suppose I don’t have a computer…”

Minato doesn’t respond with anything else though the comment draws his thoughts back on a subject that had come up the other day. There wasn’t much Ryoji refused to talk about, but just once he’d dodged a question regarding his home and home life that had left Minato irritatingly curious. He didn’t want to care about things like that since this friendship had been forced on him to begin with and he wasn’t exactly… comfortable with some aspects of calling it that with recent events in mind. Ryoji was a classmate that just so happened to push his presence on him in a way that felt friend-like.

So why couldn’t he stop wondering about mundane things like that? Was he so eager to know about the other because he cared about him like a friend or was he just eager to find something else that maybe Ryoji would understand about him that no one else seemed capable of? The first option scared him and the second just made him hate himself more.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the person in question suddenly sitting at the edge of his bed, and for a moment he feels the air rush out of his lungs because the teen in front of him looks too similar to the boy who he doesn’t think he’ll see ever again.

“I thought you were going to go to sleep?” Ryoji says, an easygoing smile on his face hiding the fact he knows more than he’s saying. Minato’s too scared to ask what that smile actually means.

Ignoring him, he flops back down knowing he won’t be able to sleep. Wordlessly, Ryoji reaches for his wrist, fingers gently moving instead for his hand.

“How about we just talk,” he says, though his tone says it isn’t a question. Minato has no intentions of speaking, but as usual, he’s strung along no matter what he says he will or won’t do when it comes to Ryoji.

The conversation is meaningless on the surface, but a month later it only stings all the more when there are just the ghosts of two faces—that are really just one in the same—looking down at him as he stares out the window unable to sleep.He knows exactly why those questions were never answered and it's simply because there was never any answer to begin with. Somehow, he still feels stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

A large yellow moon stares back at him and he’s never felt so tired.