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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

#dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat #bio!dad au #Bio!mom Harley Quinn #Bio!Dad joker #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Harley’s Plea for Help #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #platonic Harley Quinn x Marinette

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kirishimaswife2819 · 3 years

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Hi! Could I request headcanons with the boys who have an s/o with a very powerful close-ranged quirk, but they're really kind and also a dumbass? Like the boys see the reader use their quirk for the first time and they're all at least a bit intimidated, but over time they fall in love for a very friendly, bubbly clutz. Thank you :D

Them with a S/o That Has a Really Powerful Close-ranged Quirk But is Also a Dumbass || Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, and Todoroki

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: Hi! Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything for Denki. But thank you for requesting! I hope that these are fine! Also, this is probably the only thing I’m going to upload tonight, I’m pretty tired -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, and Shoto Todoroki

↠Summary: Them with a s/o that has a pretty powerful quirk and is intimidating because of it, but they turn out to be very friendly, bubbly, and a dumbass

↠Genre: Fluff

↠Word Count: 1.3k

↠Warnings: None

↠Notes: None

Izuku Midoriya:

This won’t come as a surprise, but Izuku is so interested in your quirk, the first time he sees you use it, and immediately after he gets a chance, he’s asking you a million questions about it

And he’s actually pretty surprised at how nice you are in return, and how eager you are to tell him all about it and how it works

Just based on your quirk and the way he saw you use it, he has assumed you were either loud, mean, or just a pretty stoic person, but no you were so friendly and you seemed so happy

He immediately fell for you, and there was no going back after that

After the first time you two talked, he constantly used your quirk as an excuse to talk to you, either claiming that he had questions about it or suggestions for you and then he would purposely “accidentally” get totally off topic

And throughout all of these conversations, he learned a lot about you and one of the things that he learned was that you were a bit dumb

But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just not a good thing either. It wasn’t like you were completely stupid, you just didn’t get things sometimes and had a hard time remembering certain things, but you were still absolutely perfect in Izuku’s eyes

Anyways, so eventually y’all ended up together, and then you started training together and learned that you two made a pretty good team

You weren’t the best at coming up with plans or strategies, but you were powerful, and since Izuku was good at coming up with plans, he did that part and you helped him fight

He literally thinks that you’re the cutest thing to ever exist, personality wise and looks wise, just the very thought of you has his face turning ten different shades of red

Katsuki Bakugou:

Like Izuku, he was intimidated by you at first, so he went ahead and threatened you, telling you that you better not get in his way or try to be better than him

And he had expected you to reply with some snappy comeback, but instead you were all cheery and just replied with something along the lines of, “Oh, don’t worry! I’m not trying to beat you, I’m just trying to be a good hero! Anyways, what’s your name? Did you want to train together some time?”

Then, he gets annoyed by you, or is he annoyed by the fact that he oddly loves how bubbly and happy you are?

He liked to go with the first option, even though the second one was way more accurate, and was the actual reason that he was “annoyed” by you

He still didn’t object to training with you or doing group work with you, he complained about it, but rejected any offers to switch partners or do it with somebody else

But somehow he got to the point where he couldn’t deny it any longer, he liked you and there was nothing he could do about it

So, then he tried avoiding you, hoping to forget about his dumb crush on you

But he couldn’t stand to do it any longer when you walked up to him, asking if you had done something wrong and why he was avoiding you all of the sudden

And then he accidentally let the truth slip out and you two ended up getting together

He doesn’t like to admit it but he actually loves how bubbly you are, and even the fact that you’re a little dumb, and he won’t hesitate to call you a dumbass, but he does it out of love, not out of hate, so don’t be insulted when he does

Eijiro Kirishima:

He wasn’t necessarily intimidated by you, but he did think that your quirk was really cool and decided to go ahead and tell you that he thought so

Like the others, he hadn’t expected you to be so nice and friendly, but he wasn’t complaining, he was just glad to be making a friend so quickly, especially since it was one of the first times that you two had met

He actually looks up to you in a way, he thinks you’re so cool and powerful, plus you have a great personality as well and in his eyes, you’re going to be an amazing hero

Kirishima absolutely loves watching you use your quirk, so this means that he greatly enjoys training with you as well. Plus since you’re powerful, you make a pretty good training partner, and you won’t throw a fit or get unnecessarily mad if you lose against him for whatever reason

Eventually he comes to the conclusion that he likes you and he tells you immediately after he realizes, not wanting to waste any time, if you liked him back then that would be amazing, but if you didn’t then that was fine too, you two could just be friends (and it wouldn’t be that he wasn’t heartbroken over you, but he wouldn’t want to lose what you two had, since it was a pretty good friendship)

But he didn’t have to worry about that, because you returned his feelings and you two got together

He absolutely refuses to be mean to you for being a little dumb, he might playfully tease you a little bit but not very often and not for too long since he doesn’t want to unintentionally hurt your feelings or make you think that he didn’t really liked you, because he really did like you. But if you are being a little dumb, he’ll just gently explain whatever it was to you, making sure that you understood

Anyways, he absolutely loves your personality and everything about it, you were just so cheerful and happy all the time and he loved that, he hated being sad, and you clearly did too, so you two got along pretty well and made an amazing couple

Shoto Todoroki:

Like Bakugou he saw you as nothing more than a rival at first, but he didn’t go and threaten you or anything, he just programmed into his brain that you were an enemy and somebody that he had to beat

He didn’t pay any special attention to you, although he always pretty amazed by how easily you used your quirk and you were able to be so powerful without even doing too much (although he was sure that must of been the result of a lot of training and hard work)

But eventually he was forced to work with you on something and he got to know you and he quickly fell for you

You were just so happy, positive, cheerful, kind, just the kind of person that he needed in his life. You were somebody that would love him regardless of his flaws and without expecting much out of him in return

He kept his feelings a secret for a long time, not really realizing what they were at first, but then eventually he figured it out, but then he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it

So, he came to you with his problem, explaining that he liked you a lot, he just wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go from there

And then you explained that you didn’t really know what to do either, but you were willing to figure it out with him if he would give you the chance to

He, of course, agreed, and you two got together

Shoto’s a bit dense sometimes, so if you’re dumb in that sense, you’re both going to be sitting there not understanding jokes or what’s being implied during certain situations

But overall, y’all make a pretty cute and happy couple, a lot of people are surprised that somebody as bubbly and outgoing as you got together with somebody so quiet and calm like Todoroki, but they still think you two are a cute couple

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timelesslords · 3 years

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Girl’s Night

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In which Annabeth has a little too much wine at Girl's Night and feels very guilty about it. Thankfully, Percy doesn't mind taking her home.

Annabeth Chase was very good at holding her alcohol.

In all honesty it was mostly because she didn’t drink that much to begin with. Being drunk had never been all that appealing to her— years of being on edge for the next fight made it difficult for her to intentionally dull her senses, and she never liked how foggy it made her brain either. Living in New Rome for the past few years hadn’t completely squashed those instincts, despite its top of the line anti-monster security.

But still. Annabeth could keep it together pretty well, when she chose to indulge. She’d gone to a few wild parties earlier in college, mostly at Piper’s behest, and she didn’t mind having a few glasses of wine every once in a while.

Girl’s Night was every once in a while. Every first Friday of the month, if you wanted to be exact about it. In all honesty the practice was probably a bit dumb and middle aged for a bunch of people (and, okay, ‘a bunch of people’ was generous- it was really only Piper, Annabeth and Hazel) in their early twenties, but Annabeth didn’t care. It was hard to keep up with people these days, and Annabeth appreciated the emphasis on female camaraderie and friendship.

Plus, Piper had really stellar taste in wine.

Tonight’s had been especially good, and after a long and stupidly stressful week at school (Annabeth wished she could emulate Percy’s senioritis, but unfortunately the Architecture program only got harder as it went on, not easier) Annabeth found herself a little extra appreciative of the relaxing effects of alcohol.

It seemed like all of them had had a tough week, because they were all buzzed pretty fast. Piper was even happy to deliver the latest Hollywood gossip, courtesy of her dad, and Hazel was telling them a story about a probie getting stuck in the unicorn stables that made Annabeth laugh so hard she was practically sobbing. Piper and Hazel were not much better; Piper had completely fallen off the couch from cracking up so hard, and Hazel could barely get a word in edgewise before she completely dissolved into giggles again.

It was then that Annabeth caught a glance of the two completely empty bottles of wine in front of them, and realized that all of them— though mostly she, specifically— had made a grave mistake. She had no idea how many times her own glass had been filled and then subsequently emptied, but it was enough that she was well past tipsy and solidly in drunk territory.

It was hard to care about the bad parts of being drunk when you were currently drunk, Annabeth was finding. Everything was just so much funnier.

Apparently Jason had also sensed that they were drunk, or maybe he just had heard the deranged cackling coming from the living room, and wanted to make sure they were all still alive.

“Are you guys alright?” he asked, sticking his head through the doorway.

“I’m fantastic. I mean, I don’t know about you two, but I am—” Piper paused, letting out a small hiccup, “Feeling awesome.”

“I feel great,” Hazel agreed, barely able to stop laughing long enough to let the words out.

Annabeth wasn’t sure she remembered how to form coherent words anymore, so she just gave a thumbs up.

“You guys are really drunk,” Jason said, voice an impressive mix of concern and amusement. He walked into the room, picking up one of the empty bottles of wine they’d left on the table and examining the label.

“That’s my man. Very smart,” Piper said, apparently completely seriously, leaning against Jason’s leg.

“Pipes, you realize this wine is like, 20%, right?” Jason asked, ignoring her declaration of his intelligence.

Piper frowned. The expression seemed very exaggerated, or maybe Annabeth’s head was just messing with her. It was very funny either way, and she had to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up Annabeth. Let me see that,” Piper said, holding her hand up for the bottle. Jason very wisely did not let Piper hold the bottle herself, instead holding it at eye level in front of her. She gripped the bottom of it, pulling it towards her and squinting at the label.

“Nevermind. I can’t read anymore,” Piper said, relinquishing her grip on the bottle. That sent Hazel and Annabeth into another fit of laughter. They would probably be drunk even if the wine wasn’t that strong, but it certainly explained why Annabeth felt like she was floating right now. She hadn’t been this wasted since at least freshman year, maybe ever. Everything was a little blurry at the edges, and she was dizzy in a kind of delightful way. She let out one last giggle.

“And that means we are officially at the me-calling-your-boyfriends time of the night,” Jason said, setting the bottle back down on the table. Piper groaned.

“Party pooper,” she grumbled, though she didn’t move herself off his legs.

“Sorry babe,” he said, apologetically, “You guys are welcome to crash here, obviously. I’ll just call Frank and Percy to let them know.”

“S’fine,” Hazel said, yawning and pulling out her phone, “I’ve been texting him. I’ll just tell him now.”

“That’s against the spirit of Girls Night.” Piper said, pointing an accusing finger at Hazel, “You’re a cheater.”

“I had to tell him about your dad’s friend secretly dating his co-star! She was in his favorite movie!” Hazel protested.

Annabeth had not texted Percy tonight, in part because, as Piper had said, it was against the spirit of Girl’s Night, but also because he was probably asleep. Usually he’d stay up and wait for her to get home, even though New Rome was probably the safest city on the face of the planet, and the chances of anything happening to Annabeth on the six block walk between their respective apartments was ludicrously slim. But he’d been practically dead on his feet when she left, and had agreed pretty easily to turn in early when she suggested it.

She immediately felt bad about the prospect of waking him up. She knew she should though— he’d much rather be woken up in the middle of the night than wake up in the morning with her not there. Even though it would take about three seconds to check his phone and realize everything was fine, old habits die hard and it would unnecessarily stress him out. Especially since it was the one night he’d agreed not to stay up and wait for her.

So waking him up was inevitable. Worse, she was starting to realize that she really wanted to be home with him. As comfortable as Piper’s floor was (and given how drunk Annabeth was, it was genuinely pretty comfortable) she just really wanted to be in her own bed, preferably with Percy also in it.

“Annabeth’s gonna want to go home,” Piper predicted, drawing Annabeth out of her thoughts, “She gets boyfriend clingy when she’s drunk.”

“I do not,” Annabeth said, even though she most definitely did.

“You’re a bad liar,” Hazel said, patting Annabeth’s leg sympathetically.

“I’m an excellent liar,” Annabeth said. Under normal circumstances this would be true. Unfortunately being drunk was not normal for her.

“Uh huh.” Piper said, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want Percy to come pick you up.”

Annabeth looked into Piper’s eyes, currently a very pretty green shade. Not as pretty as the shade of green Percy’s eyes were, but nice, for eyes that were not Percy’s. What was she supposed to be doing again?

“This feels like a trick,” Annabeth said, squinting.

“She wants Percy to pick her up,” Piper said, tugging at Jason’s pant leg.

“Yeah, I got that,” Jason said. Annabeth was pretty sure he was laughing at them, but in her current state it was a little hard to tell. “Let me go get my phone.”

Piper whined as Jason walked away, leaning back against the couch.

“Can you even walk, Chase?” she asked, looking dubiously at Annabeth “He’s going to have to carry you home.”

“I can walk,” Annabeth said, very offended even though she didn’t entirely know if her statement was true. Piper snorted.

“You’re lucky Percy is strong.”

“This is all your fault, McLean. Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Annabeth said, aiming a soft kick at Piper’s leg.

“Okay, in my defense I didn’t read the label,” Piper said, pulling her leg back just in time to avoid Annabeth’s foot.

“How is that a defense?” Hazel asked, though she was giggling.

Piper did not have time to further defend and/or implicate herself, because Jason appeared in the doorway again.

“Percy’s coming, he’ll be here in ten.”

“Was he mad?” Annabeth asked anxiously. Piper rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think Percy is physically capable of being mad at you,” she said.

“He thought it was funny, actually,” Jason said, ignoring Piper.

“Told you so,” Piper said smugly.

“Shut up,” Annabeth grumbled.

The next ten minutes passed in a very drunken blur. Now that she had fully realized she was intoxicated, the feeling only seemed to compound, each uncounted drink catching up to her with a reckless abandon. She was vaguely aware of Piper crawling back on the couch to lie down, and Hazel curling up in an armchair. Annabeth just stayed on her little patch of floor. If she got too comfortable, she wasn’t going to want to get up.

She could feel something anxious starting to prickle under the surface of all her artificially happy feelings, but it was sort of difficult to dissect when she couldn’t really think straight.

“Hey, Wise Girl,” a familiar voice said.

Annabeth looked up to see Percy smiling down at her. He looked so pretty she almost started crying. Almost. Crying as a normal human function was fine and good and emotionally necessary and all that, but crying because you were drunk and your boyfriend was hot was just embarrassing.

“I’m drunk,” she told him. Might as well get right to the point.

“Yeah, I gathered,” he said, still looking at her with entirely too much affection, “You feel okay enough to walk home?”

“Yeah. I wanna walk,” Annabeth said, accepting his hand and pulling herself to his feet. If he hadn’t been holding her she probably would have fallen over.

“You sure about that?” he asked skeptically, putting his other hand around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him, because she always leaned into him, and yeah, okay, maybe she needed his support to walk straight, but what about it.

“Very sure,” Annabeth said. Already she was adjusting to being on her feet. Percy half looked like he wanted to protest, but making it out of the living room seemed to convince him that she was okay to at least make it a few blocks home.

Sitting down on the bench in the front hall to put her shoes on was somehow worse than walking. She managed to shove her shoes into her sneakers, but getting them tied was probably not going to happen.

“I can’t remember how shoelaces work,” Annabeth admitted, looking up at him, “Does that mean I’m screwed?”

“Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news,” Percy said, leaning down to tie her shoe for her. Annabeth shut her eyes tight, then opened them again, trying very hard to focus out her vision. It didn’t work.

“What’s the bad news?” Annabeth asked, because bad news tended to ruin good news, and she’d rather just get it out of the way.

“You’re going to be very hungover tomorrow.” Percy said, straightening up. She thought he was smiling, but considering there were two of his head floating around in front of her, it was kind of hard to tell.

“Are you laughing at me?” Annabeth asked. He was definitely smiling now.

“I would never,” Percy said, wrapping an arm around her waist, “C’mon, lets go.”

Their goodbye was not as extended or elaborate as Annabeth expected, mostly because Piper and Hazel were already half-way to being passed out. Still, there were some waves, some I-love-yous and a partially incoherent apology from Piper, though who it was aimed at was something of a mystery.

Stairs were just a bit tricky, but she managed to stumble down them without seriously injuring herself. She was sure Percy helped somehow, but she could barely tell the difference between his arms supporting her and her own movement.

“What’s the good news?” Annabeth asked, once they were safely on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of her apartment. It was probably cold, but between Percy’s body heat next to her and her own drunkenness, she could barely feel it.

“You haven’t thrown up?” Percy offered, half-heartedly. Annabeth swallowed down a gag.

“Don’t say those words again,” she warned. Percy winced.

“Right. Sorry.”

“That wasn’t even good news, that was irrelevant news,”

“I think it’s excellent news, personally.” Percy said. He was laughing at her again, probably, but she also probably deserved it. Probably. She was wrapped under his shoulder because his arm was still helping hold her up, so it was kind of hard to see his face. She focused her eyes down at the sidewalk in front of her instead, focusing on not tripping.

“You would,” Annabeth said, “You didn’t have good news, did you?”

“I was sort of hoping you would forget,” Percy admitted.

“I never forget,” Annabeth reminded him. She had an excellent memory. Especially for things that had happened only 2 minutes ago. Admittedly the rest of the night was already starting to get a little blurry.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Annabeth felt a small stab of guilt. He was teasing her, sure, but he was also being stupid nice even after she’d dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to practically carry her intoxicated self back home.

And now she was remembering where that little wiggle of anxiety had been stemming from. He didn’t like being around drunk people. He never really said anything, because he was him and thus was probably allergic to the mere thought of even mildly killing anyone else’s fun for his own personal comfort or convenience. But she knew him well enough that he didn’t need to say anything. He’d never taken up Piper’s offer to go partying with them, even though he encouraged Annabeth to go when she’d wanted to, and he hardly ever drank himself. Even then it was only in social situations, and usually just one drink that he probably didn’t even feel.

So maybe he hadn’t flat out said he didn’t like people being wasted around him, but he had told her about Gabe; how he was a drunk, abusive asshole. It wasn’t too hard to put the pieces together.

“I’m sorry I got drunk,” Annabeth said. It was kind of a lame apology considering she was probably slurring her words a good amount, but she meant it anyways.

She felt something shift in his demeanor— if she was sober, she would know instantly what the slight change in pressure meant. As it was, she was kind of in the dark.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. She thought he sounded surprised, but maybe she was mishearing, because it would be dumb for him to be surprised by that. At the very least, he should understand she felt bad about ruining his night.

“Because, I got messy and you had to wake up and take me home even though I could have just slept on Piper’s floor,” Annabeth said. Words were sort of flowing out of her without her completely approving them, in a jumbled rush. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t quite remember how to stop it either.

“I don’t mind,” he said, just as she’d known he would. He meant it too, even drunk off her ass she could tell he wasn’t annoyed at her at all, even though he would be totally justified to be.

“But I could have just slept on the floor,” Annabeth repeated, though even the thought caused her to lean deeper into him.

Percy slowed his pace, almost stopping. Annabeth tried looking up at him to decipher what he was thinking, but she couldn’t really make out his face well enough to tell.

“This isn’t just about waking me up, isn’t it?” he asked.

Ugh. Why did she forget in her drunken stupor that he knew her just as well as she knew him? Obviously he was going to pick up on something deeper that was making her feel guilty.

“I just—” Annabeth started, then stopped. It was difficult to pick words precisely enough for the thoughts she was having.

“I know you don’t really like parties and stuff. Or drunk people. And I’m a drunk people right now, so I’m sorry.”

Great job, Annabeth, Annabeth thought to herself. Very delicately put. The lack of subject verb agreement, that was a nice touch. You didn’t sound completely fucked up even a little bit.

God, she hated being drunk.

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone, tomorrow,” Annabeth said, trying again, “But I forgot that me being drunk might be worse, so that's why I feel bad.”

Percy stopped walking. At first Annabeth thought it was in response to what she’d just said, but then she realized they were in front of their apartment building.

Then she realized he wasn’t making any moves to go inside, so it was about what she’d said after all. Instead he turned her around so she could see his face, keeping his arms around her waist in support.

She couldn’t quite read his expression, yet another reason why alcohol was the devil.

“I have a feeling we’re going to need to repeat this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” he started, “But just for the record, you being drunk doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Annabeth studied his expression, searching his face for any signs of mistruth. She found none, but she also couldn’t entirely trust her senses at the moment.

“Are you just saying that?” Annabeth asked, suspiciously, “Because that’s the sort of thing you would lie about.”

She had sort of expected him to sigh in annoyance, but to her surprise he smiled instead.

“I’m not lying, I swear.”

“But you don’t like other drunk people,” Annabeth insisted. For some reason the two ideas could not coexist in her mind.

“I don’t like drunk strangers,” he corrected, “You’re not a stranger.”

“Well, duh,” Annabeth said, which made him laugh. She hadn’t meant to, but she liked hearing him laugh, so she would accept it anyways.

“But doesn’t it— I don’t know, bring up bad memories, for you?” she asked, cautiously, “I don’t wanna do that. I don’t even really like being drunk.”

He just shook his head.

“If it did, I would tell you. But it doesn’t, I swear.”

Annabeth frowned. It was probably just her stupid wine brain, but she couldn’t quite connect the dots between all the points he was making.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because,” he said, somehow still smiling, “You’re you.”

“That’s a lame answer.” Annabeth said.

“It’s true,” he said, in that stupid earnest honest voice of his, “I mean, maybe if you started throwing beer cans at my head when you got tipsy it’d be different, but you’re the opposite of aggressive when you’re drunk. You actually get really cuddly, it's kind of cute.”

Annabeth knew he was trying to comfort her, but she also knew that Gabe had done a lot worse than throw beer cans at him. She felt a surge of anger on his behalf, but more powerfully a wave of sadness looking at his upbeat expression. It was so supremely unfair that she wanted to cry, but she just hugged him instead. She was probably proving his point about being cuddly, but she didn’t even care.

“I’m so glad your mom made him into a statue,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Me too,” Percy said, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” Annabeth said, because she really, really did. Like so much. An embarrassing amount, if she were capable of feeling embarrassed about anything having to do with Percy Jackson, which she was pretty sure was impossible.

“I love you too,” he said, kissing the top of her head to prove it.

“Piper said I get boyfriend clingy when I’m drunk,” Annabeth admitted. He laughed, his chest vibrating beneath her.

“She might be right about that.”

“She’s usually right about things,” Annabeth said, without thinking. Then—

“Don’t tell her I said that.”

He laughed again, but it was quieter. She felt it more than she heard it this time.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Annabeth said, because she really did feel bad about that, even beyond all the other stuff, “I should have paid more attention to what I was doing.”

She felt him shrug underneath her.

“Stuff happens, it's not a big deal,” Percy said easily, “We’ll just sleep in tomorrow. Speaking of, we should probably go inside.”

As soon as he said ‘go inside’ Annabeth’s brain suddenly registered that she was exhausted. It was late, her head was swimming, and his chest had been very warm and very comfortable. She’d fallen half asleep without even realizing it.

“Inside sounds good,” Annabeth agreed, yawning.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” Percy said, finally pulling away, brushing a few stray curls out of her eyes.

Maybe if she had been sober she would have protested. As it was she was pretty happy to climb on his back and rest her head on his shoulder. He looped his arms under her legs and lifted her up easily. Gods, he was stupidly strong. She should appreciate that more.

“I love you,” she mumbled one last time into his shoulder. Whether he’d heard or responded was a mystery to her, because she was asleep before he finished climbing the stairs.

#reposting this with a preview this time bc i learned my lesson lol #it's let Annabeth get messy hours #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth fluff #percabeth oneshot #percabeth angst #pjo #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #hoo #hoo fic #hoo fanfic #Annabeth chase #Percy Jackson

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4aloysius-porteu · 3 years

Text

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | 2 | chapter 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 2.6k

She has met the tall, blonde, and bespectacled male yet again.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here."

"You again?! Seriously, I think it's you who's following me!"

"Hah, what do I get from following an extremely short person like you?" He said, borrowing her words from yesterday.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows creased further in irritation. "Why do you keep mentioning my height?!"

"It was you who started it. Anyways, can you shut up? Do you know that you're in a library?"

She didn't retort back and simply sat on the chair with her arms crossed. It was a fine day then —BOOM— this giant decided to appear out of nowhere. She was trying to forget this person who's associated with some of her embarrassing moments but those just got smashed back to her mind. (Y/N) sighed and pulled a book at the bottom of the stack to start reading, but noticed that the blondie is still standing near the edge of the table, hesitating to sit down while glancing somewhere and back to her.

"What?" (Y/N) frowned.

"Why am I unnecessarily stuck with you on this table?" He sighed, pulling out the chair.

"Because all of the tables here are taken? If you're worried about your glasses being knocked off, don't worry, I won't do anything reckless anymore."

"That's a nice reassurance," He settled down and brought out his studying materials.

Both of them shared the table in the crowded library. Ignoring the people, between them was a silent atmosphere. No one was talking as they both minded their own studies; he was reading quietly and turning pages of a huge book while (Y/N) wrote key points from the printed work and highlighting her notes. Sometimes, the other would leave to return books to their shelves and came back with new stacks. This went on for a few hours until her pen ran out of ink. She scribbled at the back of her notebook in hopes that the ink just got stuck, to no avail. She sighed, resting her head on the notebook. But she really needed to take down notes for her upcoming entrance exam.

"Hey." (Y/N) reluctantly said.

The blonde male looked at her, confirming if he's being called, "What?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your business but... do you have a spare pen?"

He stared at her with a straight face and placed his chin on the top of his knuckles, implying his refusal to lend one.

(Y/N)'s mentally gritted her teeth. I'm just going to borrow a pen and he's making it hard for me?!

Swallowing her pride, she said, "Look, I need to finish my notes. I'll return it to you right away when I'm done. I promise. Please?"

He scoffed as brought out a pen, "An inkless pen is all it takes for you to become a less lively puppy? You better keep your promise."

A puppy?! "You didn't need to compare me to a puppy but, thanks."

She continued her work but her focus was a bit shaken. This happens whenever she's interrupted or took a break away from writing. Soon, her focus vanished and boredom took over. She tried to read a book to review ideas but her brain won't cooperate. She groaned, her head and arms fell to the table again. The blonde saw but chose to ignore her.

She closed her eyes for a second, however, her gaze fell to the blank paper in front of her face. Her hands are itching to do something other than reviewing and writing, so she put down the pen she borrowed and took a pencil out of her pocket. She placed a pile of books near her notebook so that the male won't notice what she's doing. There, she started to sketch the base of the figure.

She would observe the four-eyed guy who's busy reading some sort of article while taking notes. He has a calm expression on his face rather than an irritated scowl or a mocking grin he usually has. He wears a long blazer and probably a long-sleeved shirt inside. His blonde hair is short yet the edges are a bit curly and his upper eyelashes are prominently long. This was the first time she stared at the jerk's face who she kept bumping into random places that irked the hell out of her, but for some reason, she felt that she had seen this person before the accident in the park, albeit she doesn't know where. (Y/N) came to a conclusion; he was a little good-looking.

The girl looked back to her drawing and shook her head at her own ideas. I can't believe I actually thought that this guy is handsome. How can such a mean creature be blessed with such looks?! Ugh, don't mind, (Y/N). I'm only drawing him because he seems like a great canvas subject, it's not like I haven't done this to other people before...

She went on drawing and drew details to the sketch similar to the boy in front of her. To make the drawing more accurate, she stole small glances at him. She kept things low key because it'll be another embarrassing event if he found out what she's doing. She made the lines smoother in one swift move. The hair and clothes' folds are already well-drawn while she focuses on the detail of his eyes and glasses. She was about to shade when the male finally caught her.

"What is it?" He questioned, closing his book with a low voice and creased eyebrows.

(Y/N) froze on the spot. As much as she doesn't like it, she maintained eye contact with him, thinking of the best alibi that he couldn't argue with. Then, she remembered that she doesn't know his name.

"Uhm... nothing. I was just wondering if you have a name." While talking, her finger subtly moved to grab the nearest object it could get to cover her drawing.

"I have, but why would I mention it to you?" He cooly replied.

"It's alright. I'm not asking you to. Unless you want to be referred to as he/him or the tall, blonde glasses guy all the time?" (Y/N) countered.

He silently turned a page before answering, "Well, it's not like we'll meet every day."

"Oh," was her only reply. Looks like he will stay a nameless guy in her head for a long time. She was about to get back to her business when he spoke.

"Tsukishima Kei."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "I'm not going to repeat it." He added.

She smiled, having clearly heard it right away. "Can you tell me how it is written?"

He looked at her to check for ill intentions but found nothing in her eyes. He hesitantly wrote the characters of his name on a piece of paper.

"I'm (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you again, Tsukishima-san." She'd like to initiate a handshake for peacemaking, but she knows how he'd only decline it. She wrote her name for him to see as well.

Tsukishima Kei. She repeated in her mind. What a nice name.

With a notebook covering the upper portion of the paper where she had drawn his portrait, she wrote his name at the bottom. She proceeded to the shading and background features. Backgrounds are one of the things she hates in art because it takes too long to draw one compared to the subject itself. Luckily it's only a sketch so she won't have to suffer. Although she doesn't know if Tsukishima had seen whatever she's doing so she's still cautious. She peered at him for the nth time so she could distract his peripheral vision. Maybe to test the social initiative skills she hasn't used for a long time too.

"Uhh, can I ask something?" She started.

"Hm?" He responded without taking his eyes off the page.

"What school are you from?"

"Amemaru Middle School."

(Y/N) hummed, thinking of another question, "Then, what school are you enrolling to? It must be an upper class one since you had to read those large books and all."

"Not really," Tsukishima closed the book, "I plan to go to Karasuno High School. They may not have a difficult entrance exam, but these readings are for decent grades and some stock knowledge."

"Decent grades, huh... you look like you could achieve more though. I'm pretty sure you'll ace it." She answered, "I was from Kitagawa Dai Ichi. I'm taking an exam in Shiratorizawa soon."

"You're going to that high-class academy? I see, I failed to notice that because you don't look like one. Have fun clashing with other elites there."

"Elites? What are you talking about, you still believe there's such a hierarchy?" (Y/N) chuckled.

"There is though. A gap between them and mere humans in terms of skills and power."

"In the end, they're still humans though. Be it numbers, hard work, or some unique strategy, those 'mere humans' you say will always struggle to step on equal levels with those on the highest rank."

Tsukishima only hummed and stared down at her, "Perhaps I was wrong on assuming you're an elite. You're clearly not."

"Are you underestimating me?" She challenged.

"No, I was just saying. Can I ask something though?"

"What?"

"Why are you suddenly talkative?"

She was caught off guard but tried not to stutter, "Me? Talkative? I'm always like this."

"Really?" He raised his brows, totally not buying it.

"Ugh, fine! I'm tired of studying!" She sighed, "I was scribbling some doodles on my notebook because I'm bored so I thought it wouldn't hurt to talk to Mr. Beanpole in front of me. Forgive me and my awkward social skills."

"Your social skills are not bad. I'm just thankful you aren't using the precious ink of my pen for drawing." He said, stacking the books he used.

She gasped, panicked inside, "You aren't looking at my drawing, are you?"

He got up to return the books,"Don't worry, it's none of my business."

She exhaled in relief, spared from another memory of embarrassment. Her eyes followed his walking figure and watched his movements. She looked at her drawing to compare and used her fingers to define lighting. When Tsukishima got back and placed new reviewers on the table, (Y/N) asked him once more.

"Do you ever get tired of studying?"

"Sometimes I take a break, but I can only do that if I have finished everything."

"What a diligent student you are."

"I hardly see any benefit in being dumb and slacking off all the time."

"Eh, I hardly see any benefit in studying Algebra and Calculus. I have a lot of questions. Do you use derivatives in counting money or salary? Do you use trigonometry in dividing pizzas or corn chips? Why do I need to find the limit of a function if numbers are infinite? Why do I need to get the formula of a certain point in each line or curve I draw on the graphing paper? What is the correct answer for?" (Y/N) complained.

Tsukishima looked at her blankly, doubting her chances of passing the Shiratorizawa's board exam. "I couldn't argue with that, I'd rather read a book composed of words than formulas, but you don't have a choice. Although, if you plan to be an engineer or something, that'll be a different perspective."

"No, thanks, I won't eat math books for breakfast. Other subjects are interesting enough to keep me awake in class, but numbers don't really entertain me."

"Then, what do you do?" He asked, writing on his notes.

"Not much. I just draw, paint, listen to music, and watch anime."

He let out an amused hum, "How about you? What do you do other than to study?" (Y/N) asked.

"I play volleyball, listen to music, and read narrative books."

"Volleyball? So that's what your height is for! I thought it's just for cleaning and reaching high places."

"That's rude."

"If I am, what do you call yourself? Besides, I don't want to make wrong assumptions."

"You just did."

"...right. I'm sorry."

The sense of familiarity took over (Y/N)'s brain, telling her that she definitely had met this Tsukishima guy before. Her face scrunched a little, trying to search her memories and connect the dots. Her eyes found his face again.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" His eyes narrowed, his annoyance towards the girl slowly rising.

"I HAD met you somewhere... before that accident, where did I see you?"

He was about to say something when (Y/N) stopped him, "Shh, I'm thinking."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. Volleyball, Amemaru MS... She was about to say it but Tsukishima spoke first.

"Were you one of the audience who watched the middle school volleyball inter-high a year ago?"

"I was! Wait, you remember?"

"That was the only place where I could find someone from Kitagawa Dai Ichi." He confirmed.

"Correct. I was a part of the school paper where I was assigned in the sports category. I took a picture of you when my senior was interviewing you! You were the tallest middle blocker in the games! How could I forget that! So that's why whenever you irk me, it was familiar!"

"How am I annoying you? Aren't you the one who kept on talking right now?"

"I've figured out that there's no kind bone in you. And the way you keep on stuffing the spikes from the opposite team. It was never-ending that they didn't have a chance to score properly." She pouted.

"What do you expect from a middle blocker? It was my job to block spikes."

"You could've gone easy on them."

"The game would lose it's sense if that's the case."

"Fine. You're not wrong." Their conversation was cut short after she ceased talking. At least she found out where she first met Tsukishima. She finished the portrait sketch. Grinning, she believed that she captured his features accurately in her drawing. She'd like to hold it near him and compare to make sure though. Satisfied with her work, she went back on turning pages.

"So, you've finally decided to continue to study?" Tsukishima prodded.

She smiled, "I guess. Thank you for talking to me. That was a great stop."

Both of them worked quietly, but now, the irritation they felt towards each other lessened. After some time, a person in the speaker announced that the library will be closing before 6 pm. Tsukishima returned all the books he borrowed and packed his things.

"You're going home?"

"I don't want to come home late. You aren't finished with your notes yet?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll leave five minutes before six."

"Alright. I'll get going now." He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, wait! Your pen!" (Y/N) abruptly remembered seconds after.

"I don't need it anymore. It was useful, apart from its close on running out of ink."

"But it's yours and you told me to keep my promise!"

"Whatever. Keep it or throw it." He walked out and wore his headphones, having no intention to listen to anyone.

She sighed and checked the ink. More than half of it is gone, but she can use it again if she wishes. (Y/N) placed her fist to her cheek while writing.

Random Tsukishima Kei facts:

In the second prototype chapter (unserialized, one shot, the first idea of the author on how haikyuu will go) Tsukishima was a second-year, which was changed in the serialized version where he's a first-year. His initial height in the prototype chapter is 184cm, a little shorter than his official height (190.1cm). In an extra sketch, Furudate commented, "Tsukki and Tanaka being in the same year would spell chaos!

#haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki

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acabecca · 3 years

Note

“Say that you wanna be with me too.” JAS AND BUCKY

I have no idea what this is I’m sorry. I wanted to make it longer and set it during THAT episode of fatws but it didn’t make sense to me to do it, even as an au because apparently I am very fussy when it comes to Jas and Bucky 🙄

(also the picture is not what happens in the prompt i just like is lol)

(featuring a surprise cameo by mr steven rogers because my mind cant process that he might possibly be and is most probably the D word) this prompt is unnecessarily long i apologise

Pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head, Jas kept hold of the brightly wrapped present and nudged the car door closed with her hip. She heard more than saw the kids playing somewhere over beside the cabin, and she made her way over to place the box in her hands on the table that was already crammed full of gifts.

Pepper had clearly gone all out and so had everyone else, trying to overcompensate for Tony not being around. It was Morgan’s first birthday without him, and Pepper had opted to invite everyone around instead of the two of them spending it alone, trying to distract her daughter with gifts and friends and games so she didn’t dwell too much on the fact that her father would never be at another one of her birthday parties.

“It’s about time you got here.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m terrible at gift wrapping so I stopped by my aunt’s place so she could make it look pretty for me,” Jas patted the top of the gift and sent Sam a grateful smile as she took the bottle of water he handed to her.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, peering at the gift tag. “What’d we get her?”

Jas blinked. “We?”

“Me, you, and Bucky.”

“I’m sorry, was this supposed to be from all of us?” Jas’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the one who hauled my ass all over New York looking for the perfect present for baby Stark, and I don’t recall you or Bucky giving me any money for it.”

Sam groaned loudly. “Come on, Jas. I’ve been busy. I’ve been on a mission.”

“Yes, I know,” Jas nodded her head. “I was with you. I still made time to go shopping for a six year old’s birthday party. You’re terrible! Bucky didn’t get her anything, either?”

“It’s Bucky,” Sam shrugged his shoulders as though that was enough of an explanation and Jas rolled her eyes, lifting her hand to wave at Pepper, who wiggled her fingers in return before rushing back inside the cabin.

“Jasmine!”

Jas turned at the sound of her voice, grinning when she saw Morgan running towards her and crouching down just in time to catch the little girl as she flung herself forwards. “Hey birthday girl! Are you having a good day? Your mom’s done a lot, huh?”

“There are so many cupcakes,” Morgan’s eyes went wide. “Too many to even count! I tried. Did you bring me a present?” she asked curiously.

“I did!” Jas laughed, turning around just in time to see Sam inconspicuously adding his own name to the bottom of the gift tag. “It’s from Sam, too, and Bucky. But you’re not allowed to open it until your mom says so, okay? I think we’re doing gifts later.”

“I know,” Morgan sighed. “She let me open one, though! Well…” she paused thoughtfully. “Clint snuck it to me and told me to open it before anyone saw. He got me a bow and arrow set and Lila is going to teach me how to use it, and Bruce got me a chemistry set so I can learn how to help him in his lab and stuff like my daddy did, and- did you know Bucky can pick me and Nate up with only one arm?”

“He can, huh?” Jas raised her eyebrows. “That’s awesome! Sounds like you’re having a great day, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” she paused again, biting down on her lip. “I’m going to go back to play with Nate, now. Bye Jasmine, bye Sam! Thank you for coming!” she called, sending a wave over her shoulder as she took off running towards the other kids.

“Good thing she got her manners from her mom,” Sam snorted.

“Hmm,” Jas hummed, a soft smile on her face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you adding your name on the gift tag. You add Bucky’s, too? You better had or he’ll feel like shit for not getting her anything. Where is he, by the way?”

“Sitting down by the kids with Steve.”

Jas almost choked on the sip of water she’d just taken and Sam slapped her hard on the back. “Steve?” she squealed, coughing and wiping at her mouth. “Steve, Steve? Steve Rogers, Steve?”

“You know another Steve who’d be here?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

“Steve is here and you give me a poxy bottle of water? Dammit, Sam! I need something stronger,” she groaned softly, screwing the lid back on to her water and, spotting the cooler sitting on the grass by the corner of the cabin, she made her way over to it and reached for a beer at the exact same time someone else did. Looking up as her hand connected with someone else’s, she mer a pair of familiar blue eyes and couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “Hey, Buck! I hear you’ve been keeping Morgan and Nate entertained with your impressive strength,” she raised an eyebrow, unscrewing the cap off her beer and taking a long sip. “Have you been here long?” she asked, but Bucky didn’t reply.

Instead, he grabbed two bottles out of the cooler and straightened up, looking between Jas and Sam before sending her a tight smile and turning to walk back in the direction he’d come from, disappearing around the side of the cabin. Jas turned to Sam in bewilderment.

“What was that about?” she asked, but Sam avoided her gaze as he lifted his bottle to his lips. “Sam? He’s been ignoring me for days. What’s wrong with him, did I do something? I know you know something.”

Sighing, Sam ran a hand over his face. “Look, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever it is the two of you have got going on-”

“What?” Jas interrupted. “There’s nothing going on. What are you talking about?”

“Awfully quick on the defence there, James,” Sam smirked. “...I told him I wouldn’t say anything, and I’m not going to, but do you really not know what you did?” he asked, rolling his eyes when Jas shook her head. “Think back a bit. Day before we flew home, you were talking to your auntie. About Steve. About how they could never really replace Captain America, because he was irreplaceable.”

“Yeah…?” Jas trailer off in confusion. “But, I’m right. They can’t? They tried, and look how well it worked out. They’ll never find anyone like Steve.”

“They’ll never find anyone like Steve, or you’ll never find anyone like Steve?” Sam questioned, smirking when Jas’ face paled slightly.

“That- that’s what he- is that what Bucky thinks I meant?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“And- did you tell Bucky that isn’t what I meant?”

“I tried,” Sam shrugged. “S’not me he needs to hear it from. I’m not the one he’s got a thing for.”

“Shut up, he does not have a thing for me,” Jas grumbled, shoving at Sam’s face and feeling her cheeks heat up as he cackled beside her. “Sam!”

“What? You’re both too good at avoiding what’s been happening between you for months now and I, for one, am sick of it,” Sam pointed at himself. “I’m the one who has to sit in planes and in cramped apartments and shit with the pair of you and honestly? I’m done. I’m tired of it. We’re at a kids birthday party and the sexual tension between the pair of you is so unhealthy-”

“Sam!” Jas repeated, shoving at him again. “We don’t- that is not- there is none of that tension between us.”

Sam scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t want Barnes to bend you over and-”

“SAM!” Jas shrieked, darting forwards and covering his mouth with her hand, her whole face turning red when she saw the looks Clint, Pepper, and Laura were throwing her. “Jesus, I- okay. Alright. So what if I do? He’s never made a move, has he? So this whole thing is probably just all in your head.”

“If you’re waiting for him to make the first move then you’re gonna be waiting a hell of a long time, baby. He thinks you’re still hung up on Cap and he’s also a 106 year old emotionally constipated ex-assassin. You’re gonna have to be the one who moves in first, or it’s never gonna happen,” Sam told her gently, reaching forwards and taking her drink out of her hand. “You can start by telling him he got it wrong when you said Steve was irreplaceable. Maybe drop in a little ‘Sam was right and you should listen to him more’, maybe make my life a little easier in future.”

Jas paused, chewing on her bottom lip as nerves filled her stomach. This was not how she had envisioned today going. She’d been expecting a lot of laughs, maybe some tears because she hadn’t been out here since Tony’s funeral, good food and lots of drinks, and now she was seriously contemplating dragging Bucky - her best friend - away from everyone so she could apologise for a misunderstanding that had left him brooding for the last five days. She moaned, pulling her sunglasses off her head and running a hand through her hair.

“I can’t just go talk to him,” she whispered. “He’s… He‘s with Steve. I haven’t seen Steve since… everything. It’s rude if I just go and drag Bucky away from an old man-”

“Either you drag him away or I do. I’ll come with you, I’ll keep Steve occupied and you go talk to Bucky. I am literally being your wingman.”

“Living up to your name.”

“Shut the hell up and get your annoying ass over to your equally annoying boyfriend,” Sam snorted, turning her round and pushing her towards where he knew Bucky and Steve were sitting together. Jas let out a squeak and reached behind her to swat his hands away, laughed as she turned the corner and saw Bucky sat beside Steve on a bench in the shade, watching Morgan run around with some of her friends.

Steve spotted her first and he sent a small, unsure wave. Jas smiled softly in reply and tucked her hair behind her ears, her sunglasses perched atop her head again as she came to a stop in front of them.

“Uhm, hi. Bucky, can I talk to you for a second?”

He looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure.”

“Uh,” Jas glanced at Steve. “In private, maybe?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m just in the middle of talking to Steve.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, Buck,” Steve looked between the two of them, a somewhat knowing look on his face. “You should go with Jas.”

“But-”

“I’ll sit with Gramps, don’t worry about it man,” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder, not-so-subtly nudging Bucky out of his seat and forcing him to stand up. Huffing, Bucky placed his beer down on the grass and gestured towards the cabin. Jas nodded her head and followed after him, turning to shoot a glare in Sam’s direction when he called a quick “good luck!” after them.

Following Bucky inside, Jas glanced around the cabin, her eyes lingering on the picture above the fireplace, a selfie that Tony has clearly taken of himself, Pepper, and Morgan. Clearing her throat, Jas blinked rapidly as she tried to keep any tears from falling and ignored the way Bucky was watching her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you know, it’s just…” she waved a hand towards the picture and Bucky followed her gaze, frowning as he nodded his head.

“We don’t have to stay in here,” he told her. “We can- come on,” he pointed towards the kitchen and Jas trailed after him, coming to a stop by the breakfast bar as Bucky against the worktop opposite her, his arms crossed over his chest. “So uh, you wanna talk?”

“Yeah, I- listen, I didn’t- what I said, about Steve being irreplaceable?” Jas began meekly, and Bucky screwed his eyes shut as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I’m gonna kill Wilson’ under his breath. “I think you took it the wrong way.”

“Jasmine, it’s- I- it doesn’t matter-”

“No it does!” she insisted quickly. “It does matter, Buck, because I didn’t mean it the way you think I mean it, and I don’t want you to think that I don’t- I didn’t mean that you’re not…” she paused, trailing off nervously. “You know you’re important to me, right? And I guess I don’t want you to think that there isn’t room in you for life because of my past with Steve, because that’s not what I meant.”

Bucky’s whole face was screwed up, his expression something Jas couldn’t decipher and she almost groaned when she realised he was obviously annoyed by something she had just said.

“You think I want to be a replacement?” Bucky asked carefully. “You think I want to take Steve’s place in your life?”

“No! I mean, I… I don’t know?” Jas replied meekly. “Maybe? I thought you were-”

“I want my own place in your life, Jasmine,” he cut in. “I don’t have any intention of being a replacement for anyone, especially not Steve. I know I could never replace him,” he gestured towards the kitchen window, where they could see Steve and Sam both sat outside of. The two men quickly looked away and Bucky rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose at his friends making it painfully obvious they were listening in. “I see Steve never learned how to be subtle in his old age.”

“Nope,” Jas bit back a smirk and Bucky sighed, grabbing hold of her arm and leading her away from the window. “Look, I thought maybe we - you and I - I thought that maybe there was something happening? That there was something here between us. Am I wrong?” he asked cautiously. “Tell me if I’m wrong and I’ll stop. I can just be your friend, I don’t need or expect anything else from you, not even your friendship if that’s something you don’t want-”

“…Bucky-”

“I want to be with you, Jasmine,” he admitted, his voice low and his cheeks a little bit pink. “I do. I have for a really long time. And if you say that you wanna be with me too, then great! I can take you out on dates, we can get to know each other beyond friendship. But if you don’t? That’s okay, too. Whatever you decide. I just need to know where I stand,” Bucky kept his gaze on her, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest he was sure Jas would be able to hear it. When she didn’t say anything, his stomach sank and he frowned. “Okay, that’s fine, we can forget that I said anything and-”

“No, wait!” Jas gasped, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he began to turn away from her. She tugged him back towards her, standing on her toes and quickly pressing her lips to his. It was a quick kiss, over in a few seconds, and Bucky had barely had time to respond to it before Jas was dropped back down on her toes and clearing her throat awkwardly, her face red. “Sorry, I… I was processing. I’d really like to go on dates with you, Bucky.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Good. That’s… That‘s good. I’d like that.”

“Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna kiss me or am I gonna be the one doing all the heavy lifting in this relationship?” Jas raised an eyebrow and Bucky chuckled, slipping an arm around her and pulling her towards him. He leaned in closer to her, before freezing and looking at her with a furrowed brow. “What is it, Barnes? Did you change your mind already?”

“You don’t still have feelings for Steve, do you?”

“No!” Jas pulled a face. “Bucky. He’s old. Like really old.”

“So am I!”

“Yeah but he looks old.”

“Wow, never had you down for the shallow type, Jasmine.”

She groaned. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Okay,” Bucky hummed, finally closing the gap between them and doing as she asked.

Outside, Sam beamed as he peered through the window before he held his hand out to Steve, who sighed and begrudgingly shoved $20 into his waiting palm.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to her, Sam,” Steve grumbled. “You hustled an old man.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled widely, stuffing the money into the pocket of his jeans. “I did.”

taglist: @sgtbuckyybarnes @mer-writes @foxesandmagic @ohmansebastianstan @chlobenet @jewelswrites-ish @lukespatterson @ocappreciationtag @marveloc-hq (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

#bucky barnes x oc #tfatws oc #?? kind of? it’s au tho #well this prompt is the fic isnt #ANYWAYS pls love my sweet angels as much as i do 🥺#my sweet angels + sam the meddler #jas x bucky #fic: band of thieves #band of thieves: prompts #also i haven’t edited this bye

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themadlostgirl · 4 years

Text

In Your Charge

*This one was fun to write! Felix fluff is always nice!*

Prompt: Felix has a crush on the new girl but she’s always surrounded by a group of mean girls. That all changes when Peter puts Felix in charge of her. Fluff ensues.

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: language

~~~

This new girl was beginning to be a problem. Felix was never particularly close to any of the Lost Girls on the island. They were fine but he kept his distance from them most of the time. It was also made easy since the girls seemed to avoid him. Whether they were scared of him or just didn’t like him he didn’t really care.

Then the new girl came. She dropped into Neverland with a sharp smile and even sharper tongue. She was a quick thinker and light on her feet. Felix had taken notice immediately.

It started innocently enough. He’d watch her during training admiring how hard she tried even after getting knocked to the ground a hundred times. She was stubborn if nothing else. Then he was watching her at camp when she danced around the fire. It was effortless the way she moved and he was lost to the sway of her hips and the wide smile that adorned her face as she spun around the fire. He was lost to her completely.

Now relationships between the Lost Girls and Lost Boys was nothing new. They would get together and break up and get back together all the time. Out of all the Lost Boys though Felix was never one that the girls approached. At first he hadn’t minded since, again, he hadn’t really cared about them one way or another. Then Y/N came along.

Before he had always been too nervous to approach her but when he did work up the courage he was blocked by the girls surrounding her. He wasn’t naive to what those girls said about him either.

“He’s such a beanpole!”

“That scar on his face is so gross.”

“He’s always so grumpy. It’s actually kinda freaky.”

“Doesn’t he ever smile?”

“He’s probably sad because he knows he’s not as cute as any of the other boys.”

“No one is ever gonna want to be with him.”

Who were these girls to say such things about him? If there was any saving grace it was that Y/N stood up for him as best she could. She’d tell the girls to shut up and stop being so mean.

“Have any of you even talked to him?” She would shoot at them. “You don’t even know him.”

It gave Felix hope when he heard her defending him.

“Another day admiring the view, Felix?” Pan stood next to him. Y/N was sitting in a circle along with a bunch of the girls. “You do know you can go talk to her, right?”

“I can’t get close enough.” Felix scoffed, “Those girls are like attack dogs. They won’t even let me near her.”

“I think I have an idea around that.” Pan smiled in that way that let Felix know he was plotting something.

~~~

I sat with my friends in the middle of the camp. Ever since I landed in Neverland the Lost Girls had adopted me as one of their own. They were nice and fun to be around but they were so unnecessarily mean to the boys. Well...one boy.

Felix.

Oh Felix…

I had no idea why the girls were so against him. He was a tall, lean, blonde with bright eyes and a sexy scar running down his face that made him look dangerous and mysterious. Not to mention that he was also one of the best fighters on the island and Pan’s second in command.

She hated when the girls made fun of him. It was almost like a game to them. We would be talking about something else entirely but the second they saw Felix come within earshot the conversation would pivot to rag on him.

At first I didn’t know what to say or do about it. I didn’t know Felix. I wanted to but I was too scared to go talk to him. One thing the girls got right was that he was almost always scowling by himself which made him hard to want to approach. So I stayed silent.

Then came the day where I spotted Felix out by himself. I had gone off on my own for some quiet time and found Felix relaxing in the shade of a tree with a small serene smile on his face. He was drumming out a little tune on his thigh with his fingers. I stood for a moment mesmerized.

Everything about him drew me in. But it was that one moment of piece that truly cemented the growing feelings I had. I had a crush on Felix. After that I would tell the girls to shut up when they started ragging on Felix but it never stopped them for long.

I was trying to plot a way to get Felix alone so I could talk to him when Pan called me over away from the girls. Everyone went silent assuming that I must be in trouble. I can’t understand how though since I hadn’t even been here a month. “Walk with me,” he ushered me away from the camp, “You too, Felix.” Pan called over his shoulder.

Why was he bringing Felix? He was his second in command so it shouldn’t have been too shocking. Maybe this is a good thing. If after Pan is done with me I can talk to Felix before we go back to camp.

“This should be far enough.” Pan stopped and addressed the Lost Boy and Girl in front of him.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, new girl. You’re not in trouble.” Pan assured her, “But I have to say that I am concerned. You have been here a month and you still cannot defend yourself. You struggle in training and cannot beat even our easiest of combatants.”

“I know. Fighting is something I’m not used to but I have been trying my best to improve.” I said.

It was embarrassing really how badly I just didn’t get fighting. I kept getting up but it didn’t stop the fact that it took no effort on my partner’s end to take me back down again. It’s part of the reason I was always with the girls. They were better at defending themselves so if we ever ran across pirates or wild animals in the jungle then they could fight them and I could keep safe in the huddle. It was embarrassing but necessary until I got better.

“I understand but I need you to progress faster. Which is why Felix is here.” Pan motioned him closer, “Felix is the strongest and best fighter on the island, second to me of course. From now on he is in charge of your training and will be your escort around the island.”

“What?” Felix and I said at the same time.

“Pan,” Felix took him aside, “This is your grand idea? Are you insane?”

“Shut up and go with it.” Pan told him. They turned back towards me. “I assume that this won’t be a problem for you two.”

“No. Not at all. I just don’t want Felix to have to waste his time following me around. I have the girls and they work just as well…” What am I saying? This is what I wanted! Someone stop my stupid mouth from spouting this nonsense!

“Those girls coddle you.” Pan said, “They’re making you soft. You will stick with Felix for the foreseeable future. It’s not like he has much else to do anyway.”

“Pan…” Felix stressed.

“Have fun you two. Do not leave her side, Felix.” Pan pointed at them and then left leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically, “I bet you wish you didn’t have to get saddled with me, huh?”

“Oh no,” Felix rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t mind.”

“At least this’ll give us a chance to get to know one another better. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the chance to really talk to you.”

Felix’s features softened. “Nor I you.” He looked away, “Since you’re in my charge now how about we go for a walk? I can give you some pointers I know the girls probably hadn’t told you.”

“Sure, that sounds nice.” I smiled. This was almost too good to be true!

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking aimlessly around the island. Felix gave me a lot of advice about fighting and little things to help improve my form. He promised that we would go over them more in depth tomorrow at training. Soon the conversation turned into more casual things. Personal things. We talked about where we were from before Neverland and what things we liked. He told me funny stories and adventures the Lost Boys had gone on before they started recruiting girls on the island.

I didn’t even notice it was getting dark until Felix started searching for a good enough stick to make a torch. There wasn’t a lot of vicious animals on Neverland but still it was unwise to wander about in the jungle without any light. I couldn’t really see anything in the dark but Felix navigated the jungle like it was perfectly lit. I suppose that must come from years of living here. To make sure I didn’t get lost he took to holding my hand. I tried not to read too much into it but after spending all day getting to know one another I couldn’t help the giddy excitement that bubbled up inside of me.

Felix had just lit a torch when we heard something moving in the jungle. Felix scanned the dark shadows of the trees. “Stay close,” Felix whispered, his grip on my hand tightening, “Something’s out there.”

“Okay,” I followed him as we started moving back towards camp. Every so often Felix would stop and listen, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Felix whispered as they walked, “But someone is following us.”

“What do we do?” I whispered back.

“I’m going to put out the torch. You keep ahold of me and do not let go. We’re gonna make a run for it.”

“Are sure that’s safe?”

“Safer than if we get surrounded pirates. You can’t fight and while I can hold my own I don’t want to wander into an ambush.” He reaffirmed his grip on my hand. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. Felix extinguished the torch and then we were running. I was stumbling trying to keep up with his long strides. More than once I tripped over roots and rocks I couldn’t see. Felix kept me upright. I could hear who was chasing us now. Their footfalls crunching quickly after us. It sounded like they were on all sides.

My lungs burned and my legs ached but we kept running. My foot caught another root and this time my hand was ripped from Felix’s as I went down. “Y/N!” Felix ran back to collect me.

I felt a pair of hands haul me up. The people chasing us were right on top of us now. I could hear them surrounding us. “I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to catch my breath, “I tried to keep up.”

“It’s okay,” Felix shoved me behind him, “At the first opening you make a break for it, okay?”

“But--”

“No arguing!”

Our pursuers closed in. I huddled closer into Felix. Suddenly there was light all around us and the sound of laughter. It wasn’t the raucous laughter of pirates though. I looked up and saw the girls holding torches and their stomachs as they doubled over with laughter.

“Girls!” I shouted at them, “What the hell?! You scared us! We thought you were pirates!”

“Oh calm down,” One of the girls waved it off, “It was just a bit of fun. After Pan disappeared with you earlier and you didn’t come back we went out looking for you. Imagine our surprise when we saw that you got saddled with Felix. You poor thing, come with us. We’ll get you back to camp.”

“Now hang on--” I started but Felix silenced me.

“She’s not your concern anymore.” Felix told them. “She was put under my charge. You can head back by yourselves.”

“Your charge?” the girls started whispering amongst themselves. “Oh dear, Y/N, is this a punishment? Did Pan stick you with him as a lesson or something?”

“No. He’s meant to be helping me.” Y/N said, “I’m not being punished at all. Also, I don’t know what your problem is with Felix but he is incredibly strong and fierce and even kind. He is the best damn fighter on this island and does not deserve the constant disrespect you jerks hurl at him!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s not that nice to look at.” One of the girls mumbled.

“Shut up, Maria! Just because your boyfriend looks like a baked potato doesn’t mean you can go around insulting Felix. What’s wrong with him? Is he too tall? Too muscular? Too handsome? Is the scar on his face not simultaneously attractive and cool? What’s your problem?” I shouted at them, “So bugger off and leave us alone!”

“Oh my god,” the girls muttered, “You like him. Look at how red their faces are.”

“Piss off!” Felix yelled at them. The girls finally scattered leaving Felix and I alone again.

“I’m sorry about them. I really don’t understand why they act like that around you. They’re so mean for no reason.”

“It’s fine.” Felix shrugged. “Not like they matter anyway.”

“Right.” I nodded. Felix peered down at me. We had come to a break in the trees and I could faintly make out his face in the moonlight. “Did you...did you mean what you said? About me?”

“Oh…” My face started burning anew, “I mean, yeah. You’re Pan’s second in command after all. Everyone else knows how good a fighter you are and--”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grinned slightly and my stomach flipped. That really wasn’t fair. He towered over me, encasing me completely in his presence.

“Yes…” I mumbled.

“Well that certainly makes this a lot easier.” He grabbed my hand again. “I guess this means you don’t mind me following you around as your kinda bodyguard, huh?”

“Not at all. I was actually rather pleased when Pan assigned you to me. I’ve been trying to get a moment alone to talk to you for a while now.”

“What a coincidence, so have I. So…” He trailed off.

“So what?” I asked.

“So I guess this makes me your bodyguard, teacher and your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!” My heart started hammering in my chest.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No! Wait--I didn’t mean no as in ‘no’ I mean it like yes. Yes I would very much like that. I would like for you to be my...oh god I can’t talk right.” I groaned.

Felix chuckled softly and pulled me closer. He planted a small kiss on my cheek. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Okay,” I couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across my face.

We strolled back into camp some time later. Word must have spread about Felix being put in charge of my protection and training cause everyone was watching us. The whispers and murmurs grew even louder when they noticed us holding hands. Their wide, disbelieving eyes following us as we sat down near the fire. Felix put an arm around me that was as sweet as it was possessive.

Pan spotted us across the way and smirked. I would need to make sure to thank him for this later.

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat #neverland #request #peter pan ouat

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

pollute my body

Summary: Xue Yang learns what Xiao Xingchen likes and, through that, learns some things about himself.

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, mild blood, biting, xue yang’s violent thoughts

ao3

In every way, Xue Yang could honestly say there was no one like Xiao Xingchen.

The man was irritatingly kind, blindly giving, foolishly trusting. It was almost too easy. No, it was too easy. It was too easy to make him smile, to make him laugh, to make him feel safe enough to kiss Xue Yang after a night hunt without knowing his damn name. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

Xiao Xingchen, in all of his stupidity, didn’t stop smiling as he pulled Xue Yang along and into the small room he slept in. There was no bed, nothing but a mat on the floor. It was difficult for Xue Yang as he kissed him to not just gut him right then. As Xiao Xingchen’s nimble fingers touched his jaw, as his tongue parted his lips, as he led every action because Xue Yang had never done anything like this in his life and he knew it but he didn’t mind‒Xue Yang wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t,” Xue Yang said as those hands went to where his robes were held together with all intent to remove them. He grabbed Xiao Xingchen’s wrists to stop him and got what could only be described as a shy smile in response.

“Sorry,” he said, voice soft, “I won’t.”

“Won’t what?” he asked. Why the fuck was he asking?

“Touch you,” Xiao Xingchen offered, “If that isn’t what you want. I’m sure there are many cultivators who aren’t fond of it, especially when there was a war that scarred thousands.”

Xue Yang stared at him, his hands still gripping his wrists, and considered what it would feel like to snap them. Would that stop that growing feeling in his stomach, the one that felt like it was going to choke him from the inside if he didn’t do something? He hated that feeling. It always went away when someone else got hurt.

“But you do want to be touched, Daozhang?” Xue Yang said, “How impure of you.”

Xiao Xingchen had the audacity to turn a shade of red at that, looking to the side as if he still had eyes to avert. Xue Yang felt his jaw clench tighter as his grip on Xiao Xingchen’s wrist did the same. He didn’t say it hurt as much as he moved a bit closer, finally looking back at Xue Yang.

“Perhaps,” he said, warm and low, “I won’t touch you beneath your robes, but you are welcome to touch beneath mine. If you so wish. If not, I can take care of it myself.”

Take care of it myself.

And why was that more infuriating than everything leading up to it?

Xue Yang didn’t have any words to say to him other than calling him impure or selfish or something that maybe he could come up with if he had more time, but that feeling in his stomach hadn’t faded and he needed to do something. Something before he exploded and did something to himself when he should be doing something to others. They deserved it.

He released Xiao Xingchen’s hands in favor of grabbing his hips with the same amount of pressure. Xue Yang kissed him again as he kept a hold on his hips, pushing into him so far that his back arched. That tight feeling in his stomach nearly suffocated him as the man laughed. Laughed, for fuck’s sake.

“Did I say a fucking joke?” Xue Yang asked. Maybe he’d never kissed before, but it surely wasn’t a laughable offense. Gods, if Xiao Xingchen knew who he was, he wouldn’t be laughing at him as if he was‒

“No, no, that feels nice. I’m happy,” Xiao Xingchen told him‒quiet as if it would stop if he said it too loudly. Xue Yang stared at him. Happy.

There were an infinite amount of things Xue Yang could say to that, an infinite amount of ways to take that happiness and burn it. Imagine it, Daozhang, your greatest enemy making you happy. But he didn’t do any of it. It would be sweeter if he waited until after, wouldn’t it?

“Can I touch you here?” Xiao Xingchen asked, reaching up to touch his jaw once more. Xue Yang grabbed his waistband and all but tore it off, throwing it to the ground as an answer. “So yes?”

Xiao Xingchen was a pillar of righteousness and self-sacrificing to a fault. It was disgusting. And that made it all the more frustrating when Xue Yang pushed him against the wall and he smiled. Xue Yang thought about pushing harder, about pressing and pressing until the wall cracked and accepted this body as a new part of the structure.

He didn’t.

Xue Yang’s lack of experience in this had nothing to do with lack of opportunity. People had been interested and he had always been more interested in threatening them. Kissing and touching had always seemed tedious and boring, but it being Xiao Xingchen made it worth it. If he knew who he was allowing to do this to him, he’d hate it. It would make it so much better when he found out.

His hands pushed away the top layer of Xiao Xingchen’s robes, leaving him in nothing but a similarly pristine white shirt and pants. He dipped into the overlap of the shirt, his fingers grazing his chest. That feeling in Xue Yang’s stomach twisted impossibly and he let out a tense breath of frustration.

“My friend,” Xiao Xingchen said, catching his breath as he pulled away, “Come.”

It was surprisingly easy for Xiao Xingchen to move from the wall‒hadn’t Xue Yang been putting more pressure than that? He took his hand and led him to the mat in the middle of the room. Xiao Xingchen was too aware of his surroundings and too obscene looking in nothing but a loose shirt and pants for Xue Yang to make sense of it. That need to break him still hadn’t faded, even as he sat on the mat and ushered Xue Yang to sit with him. They sat cross-legged, knees touching.

“So, what are you trying to make me do?” Xue Yang asked. Xiao Xingchen smiled politely.

“I don’t want to make you do anything,” he said. Xue Yang’s eyes followed his hands as he moved his hair off his shoulders and then carefully reached up to remove his hairpiece. His hair fell in a genuinely unrealistic fashion. Then he moved to brush his shirt off his shoulder, exposing a wide expanse of flawless skin. How was he so flawless? Where were his scars? “But I would like it if you kissed me here.”

Xue Yang’s nails dug into his knees beneath his robes as he stared at his skin. So he was being invited to make it less flawless. Never had he been asked to do that. Well, he’d definitely been asked to do destruction, but never like this.

Xiao Xingchen’s hand slid to the back of his head as Xue Yang leaned forward to kiss him where he asked. The knot of tension Xue Yang's stomach got impossibly tight which made him feel unnecessarily frustrated and angry. He didn't know why. Xiao Xingchen was bent to his will, completely ignorant of what he was welcoming Xue Yang to do to him.

Then again, maybe that's what pissed him off.

But that anger overwhelmed him and he had only a handful of ways to get it out. Instinct overrode him and he sunk his teeth into Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, hard enough that he felt the small pop of punctured skin. His stomach got a little less tense, but Xiao Xingchen didn't even flinch.

"My friend," he said softly. Not out of fear or pain or even pleasure, it was simply a way to get his attention. His voice was warm and familiar and he wasn't angry. The tension that Xue Yang just got rid of came back in full force.

"What?" Xue Yang asked, snapping just a little bit. Xiao Xingchen's hand, that stupidly agile and nimble hand that had no business being on a cultivator, dragged up Xue Yang's arm slowly. It crossed over his shoulder and went to his chin.

One hand on the back of his head, one hand on his chin. It was too much contact. Xue Yang again thought about snapping his wrist, but the hand on the back of his head dropped before he could. It was almost too much to consider that maybe he could tell he didn’t like that.

Xiao Xingchen tilted his head just a bit to the side nonetheless and leaned forward. Xue Yang focused on the blood that he'd drawn on his shoulder as Xiao Xingchen kissed his neck softly. Then his teeth grazed his skin with a little bit of pressure, but not nearly the way Xue Yang had done it. Yet, somehow, it was much more of a mindfuck. His eyes slipped closed as Xiao Xingchen's warm tongue pressed against Xue Yang's neck, soothing away pain that'd never come. He felt like he was going to choke.

"Like that, please," Xiao Xingchen requested.

"What, you don't like it rough?" Xue Yang asked, trying to keep firmly in control. Xiao Xingchen gave that little smile though and moved until they were nose to nose.

“Not quite,” he said. Xue Yang rolled his shoulders back and let his eyes go back to the blood on his shoulder. He hadn’t even flinched. Where was the satisfaction in any of this? “But I can show you how I like it.”

“Aren’t you meant to disregard your own desires and needs for everyone else’s?” Xue Yang asked, his tone not nearly as venomous as he intended, “Is that not a part of your cultivation methods, Daozhang? Purity and selflessness?”

Xiao Xingchen took a deep breath and his thumb moved from Xue Yang’s chin to his bottom lip. His other hand stayed firmly in his lap, politely not touching Xue Yang more than he was okay with. How fucking cute.

“My friend,” Xiao Xingchen said again, “May I be selfish with you?”

“What?”

Xiao Xingchen adjusted himself so he was kneeling and he tilted his head, kissing him on his lips with his thumb remaining a barrier. Xue Yang dug his nails into his knees even tighter.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, “But there are always things that one would like to be selfish with. And I would like to be selfish with you.”

“What the fuck would that mean?” Xue Yang asked. His own voice was quieter than normal, less bite, a little dizzy at the grounding feeling of pressure on his bottom lip.

“It would mean,” Xiao Xingchen said slowly, his thumb moving just enough to graze over his lips entirely, “I want to feel these again when they’re swollen.”

Xue Yang grabbed his wrist and pulled away, surging up to kiss him again. Xiao Xingchen smiled and, when Xue Yang moved his hands to his knees to push him onto his back, he laughed. He moved down to his neck, dragging his teeth along the way until he got the bite mark on his shoulder. Xue Yang’s tongue cleaned the blood off his skin and Xiao Xingchen let out a shaky breath.

The taste on his tongue was something that made sense, something that let that feeling in his gut know he wasn’t going to die if he didn’t kill him. He could wait. He could. He had the self-control for that.

With self-control on one hand, it meant exploration on the other. Xue Yang didn’t like being touched in the way Xiao Xingchen very clearly did and that was something he wasn’t quite sure how to approach. He kissed his neck and again let his hand slide beneath fabric onto smooth skin. A bite to his neck, a thumb grazing his nipple, a leg between his thighs.

Xiao Xingchen moaned.

Xue Yang had to pause for a moment at the sound, his head trying to rewire to the new noise. Experimentally, he moved his thigh up a bit more intentionally between his legs and got another noise like the first one. Xiao Xingchen’s thighs tightened around Xue Yang’s and his hand moved to the back of his neck. He chased that noise, grinding his thigh harder between his legs and his tongue gliding from his collarbone to his jaw.

“Please,” Xiao Xingchen said. Please.

Many times in his life Xue Yang had had people moaning and pleading at his hand. Begging for him to let them go, moaning as the life slipped out of them, groaning as his blade cut through them. There were all sounds that his body tied to that release of tension, to that feeling of actually doing something to fix all the wrongs done to him first.

Never had he heard it quite like this.

Hearing Xiao Xingchen pleads beneath him because he wanted him there was something new. Hearing him moan because he was doing something good was also very new. It was exhilarating in a way he’d never experienced in his life. Each sound tore at the tension in his gut, leaving him with nothing but a desire to hear more. Hearing him was more pleasurable than any sort of touching could ever be, Xue Yang decided.

Xue Yang moved down to get more of a reaction, his mouth replacing his hand and his hand replacing his leg. He’d torn open his shirt at this point which gave him access to kiss and suck and bite whenever he wanted, finding the most success when he grazed his teeth over his nipple.

When he cupped his hand over Xiao Xingchen’s cock over his pants, however, he got an even louder moan. Xue Yang had to lift his head for a moment, watching his head tilt back and his chest rise and fall as he touched him. He was completely unskilled and hadn’t even got his hands on his bare cock, and yet he still reacted this way. That felt like more control than he’d ever felt in his life.

Xue Yang moved down a bit more, eyes still cast up to watch him as he dipped his hand beneath the fabric and grabbed him. Xiao Xingchen’s head tilted back and his mouth parted wide, a strangled moan exiting him in a similar way to the people Xue Yang had actually strangled. It was mesmerizing.

He moved his hand slowly, watching and basking in each little whimper and needy noise he got. A sea of yes and please decorated the noises. For a moment Xue Yang wondered if it would be even better if he said his name amongst them.

When Xue Yang really looked down for the first time, he noticed Xiao Xingchen had pinned his other hand behind his back while the main one continued to hold the back of his neck beneath his hair. He stared at it for a moment too long. Was it there for a reason? To keep him from touching himself? To keep himself from touching Xue Yang?

He tightened his grip on Xiao Xingchen’s cock as he thought about what the answer might be, but his mind was cleared again when he responded with a loud gasp. He made so much noise. Xue Yang found it was the most anything had ever made sense in his life.

It took no effort to go back to kiss his lips as he kept moving his hand a bit faster and faster with each desperate noise, feeling his way around the proper way to do it by listening and the way his hand felt on his neck. There was another reward in feeling Xiao Xingchen desperately trying to kiss back and struggling to do so. Because he felt good. Interesting.

Even more interesting when Xiao Xingchen gripped the back of his neck tighter than before and his body went entirely too tense. Xue Yang pulled back just enough to see his eyebrows knit closer together and his jaw drop as he came, a low moan of pure release exiting him without shame. He breathed heavily as Xue Yang started to slow down.

There was an unusual calmness in Xue Yang as he pulled his hand out of his pants and inspected it. This was another new change to an old familiar feeling‒bodily fluids on his hand. Like he did when it was blood, he licked it clean.

“Like candy?” Xiao Xingchen asked, smirking. Xue Yang found himself smiling, riding the easy and quiet feeling in his mind. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t two steps away from either ripping out someone’s stomach or ripping out his own.

“You wish,” he said. Xiao Xingchen shifted a bit and the hand that had been pinned beneath him carefully grazed Xue Yang’s arm.

“Did you want me to do the same for you?”

“No.”

Xiao Xingchen touched his cheek instead. “Aren’t you‒”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Xue Yang, for what it was worth, searched for any trace of judgment that he could lash out at and found none. He didn’t swat Xiao Xingchen’s hand away either despite both of them being on his skin. It felt less overwhelming this time.

“Well, are you alright?” Xiao Xingchen asked, his thumb pressing into Xue Yang’s bottom lip.

Admittedly, he was a little hard and he felt warm, but he had no interest in being touched that way. The noises Xiao Xingchen had made because of him were more than satisfactory.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Daozhang,” Xue Yang told him, “If you knew what I’ve done in my life, you’d never ask those words.”

“Yes, I would,” Xiao Xingchen said. There was a pause as he pulled Xue Yang down for another kiss, adding another stretch of time onto how long his mind would be so hazy. “So are you alright?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Xue Yang asked, “I just listened to all the sounds you made and you expect me to have something to complain about? I mean, the floor is hard as shit. And I’m definitely not washing your clothes. And I’m sure your precious A-Qing is going to show up and be annoying any moment now, so I’ll complain then. Will that satisfy you, Daozhang?”

Xiao Xingchen’s smile had slowly grown with each word he said until he was laughing softly. Clearly, he got his answer.

“Yes, I’m very satisfied,” he said, “Lay with me for a moment, will you?”

Xue Yang blinked twice before he slowly laid his head down. Xiao Xingchen never stopped touching him.

And maybe that was okay.

#xuexiao #xuexiao fic #xue yang #xiao xingchen #the untamed #mdzs #my fic #i was going to post this for mdzsnet xxc birthday event but it ended up being more about xue yang #whoops #also posting on this blog because fuck it

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

Request: Lucien always wanted to tell his feelings to the bushman but is too shy to, so he always spoke it to him in french, knowing the other man couldn't understand. He gets a surprise when Mundy responds to him back in french. Turns out he's been learning french just to understand the Spy, and has returned his feelings for a long time now.

Here it is! I hope you’ll enjoy it :D

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door creaked as the tall man peeked in.

"Hey, Spook."

"Come in, mon beau."

[My handsome one.]

Sniper entered completely and shut the door after him. Spy knew he didn't understand when he spoke French. Sniper just assumed it all meant 'my friend' or something similar, no doubt.

"Take a seat, coffee is almost ready." Spy said as he exited his kitchen with a tray in his hand.

They both sat on the sofa and Spy put the tray down. Two mugs were on it: a blue one, and a white one with '#1 Sniper' written on it in bold red, capital letters.

"Oh, you got my mug?" Sniper asked.

"From the common kitchen, I hope you don't mind?"

"Nah, it's alright."

"Thanks. Give me a second, I shall get the coffee."

"Sure."

A few moments later, they were both enjoying a warm mug of coffee.

"Hm, that's a fruity one you got there, Spook."

"Oui, indeed. I like this blend of beans and I wanted you to try it. Last week's one was a bit too strong so I thought it might be better to try a lighter, more colourful one."

"Yeah, tastes really good."

"Oh, by the way, do you have time to stay a bit longer today?" Spy asked.

"Ah, uh, yeah, yeah. I have all the afternoon to myself today." Sniper answered before they both took a sip.

It was true that very frequently now, Sniper would stay only for a short moment with Spy. He would then excuse himself and Spy would hear the sound of the van driving off. Where Sniper was going was beyond Spy. Maybe he had someone in his life? Someone he preferred over Spy…?

"And talking about colourful, your mug's quite bright." Sniper's voice broke Spy's train of voice.

"Lagoon blue," Spy added, "le bleu de tes yeux."

[The shade of blue of your eyes.]

They exchanged a smile.

"Sounds nice when you speak French." Sniper said.

"Does it?"

"Yeah, quite soothing to the ear." Sniper looked down at his mug to not feel Spy's gaze weigh too much on him.

Spy smiled. Sniper was of course oblivious to all the sweet nothings that Spy was telling him, and that was the point. Spy's heart fluttered at the mere sight of Sniper's hat. He loved the man, oui, he loved him romantically, passionately. He was in love with the hat, the glasses, the sideburns and the hoarse voice. But he didn't know how or if he should tell him. So he resorted to this absurd way, to tell him in French such that it got out of his chest but Sniper wouldn't understand.

"Shall I then treat you to a poem, mon ange? It would be in French, of course." Spy offered.

[My angel]

"Oh…" Sniper's eyebrows jumped. "You know some?"

"But of course. There is one that became so popular that it got translated into English and transformed into a song. You call it 'Autumn leaves' I think."

"Oh yeah, it's quite well known." Sniper recalled. "Yeah, go ahead, I'm listening."

Spy cleared his throat and shook his head to put himself in the right state of mind. He calmed his breath and soon started reciting.

"Oh, je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes

[Oh, I would love for you to remember]

Des jours heureux où nous étions amis

[Those happy days when we were friends.]

En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle

[Back then, life was prettier]

Et le soleil plus brûlant qu'aujourd'hui"

[And the sun more scorching than today]

Sniper listened carefully. He liked the rhythm and music of it.

"C'est une chanson qui nous ressemble

[It's a song that resembles us]

Toi tu m'aimais, et je t'aimais

[You, who loved me, and me, who loved you]

Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble

[We used to live together, the two of us]

Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais

[You, who loved me, and me, who loved you]"

Sniper leaned back and saw Spy close his eyes. His voice was enchanting him. He felt as if he was floating on a cloud, in the sky, Spy's voice carrying him in weightlessness, his ears tickling him on the inside…

"Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment

[But life separates those who love each other]

Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit

[Very softly, without making a noise]

Et la mer efface sur le sable

[And the sea washes away on the sand]

Les pas des amants désunis"

[The footsteps of broken lovers]

Spy paused and opened his eyes slowly. Sniper saw his eyelids open, his eyelashes brushee the air softly and his irises finally showed, shining as mysteriously as the sun in the early hours in the morning. His pupils moved and connected with Sniper's.

"What do you think of the music of it?" Spy asked.

"It's… It's beautiful… And the way you recited it... You looked like you felt the lyrics. Look!" Sniper rolled up his sleeve. "I still have the goosebumps!"

Spy smiled, with half of his mouth and tilted his head on the side.

"I indeed felt the meaning of it, mon trésor."

[My treasure]

He relaxed and Sniper could feel it in his guts. The power of Spy's voice, only he could use his voice and beguile Sniper like that…

"Should I translate it for you? You might be wondering what I have been talking about, as I imagine it all sounded like gibberish to you." He chuckled.

"No." Sniper answered and Spy's chuckle stopped sharp.

He raised a curious eyebrow.

"You prefer to keep it mysterious?" Spy asked.

"No, I got it. I mean, well, I understood the rough idea at least." Sniper answered.

"What?" Spy's surprise was painted all over his face.

"It's about two people who used to love each other and got separated by life." Sniper scratched his head. "And then something about the sea wiping out their footsteps in the sand."

Spy's jaw had dropped. If Sniper had understood the poem, surely that meant that he had understood all the sweet things that he had been telling him…?

"I uh, yeah, all those times I had to go away early from you… I was takin' night classes in uh, in French… I've been working my arse off to try and understand you. I've got tons of books and cassette tapes in the van now, heh…"

"You understand French?" Spy asked, horrified and as red as a brick.

"Now, yeah, a bit better."

"Merde…" Spy put a hand on his mouth and lowered his head.

[Shit…]

"Well, that's not a word they teach us in the classes, but I know what it means." Sniper tried to lighten up the atmosphere.

"I…" Spy didn't know what to say. Should he apologise? Should he explain himself? Non, doing that meant admitting his feelings to Sniper. He couldn't do that, he wasn't ready, no one was. Spy loosened the knot of his tie slightly and pulled on his collar to get more air. He was sweating bullets. It was a lot, too much, and he slammed a hand on his eyes to hide himself.

"Spook? You alright?"

"You… You've been understanding me for how long now?"

"A few weeks only. The words you usually use with me aren't those we started the lessons with so it took me some time to understand. Mon ange is my angel, mon trésor is my treasure, mon beau is my handsome one and I think the bit you said about your mug was uh, well, you compared it to the colour of my eyes…" Sniper chuckled out of nervousness and put a hand behind his neck.

"I… I'm sorry Sniper. I… It was ridiculous, I just - Argh, nevermind what I wanted, now I need to apologise and please, if you want to leave, I won't hold you back unnecessarily and I am putting an end to all this nonsense" Spy still hid his ashamed eyes behind his gloved hand.

"Spook…"

The Frenchman felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Moi aussi, uh, uhm… Moi aussi je te trouve beau."

[Me too, uh, uhm… I also find you handsome.]

Sniper managed to collect his vocabulary and grammar.

"I hope I didn't make too many mistakes, eh. I'm much better at understandin' than speaking. But uh, yeah, what I meant was-"

"You also find me handsome?" Spy removed his hand from his eyes and looked at Sniper with wide, surprised eyes.

Sniper nodded as his cheeks turned a bit more pink.

"You're, yeah, you look good even with the mask on. Tu as… uhm… de très beaux yeux… uh… très… impressive?"

[You have… very beautiful eyes… very…]

"Impressionnant. The word for 'impressive' is 'impressionnant'. Do you really think what you just said?" Spy asked.

Sniper scooted closer to Spy on the sofa and his hand brushed Spy's back.

"Y-yeah." He looked away and nodded.

"Sniper, I…"

Sniper's head pivoted and his eyes met Spy's hypnotic ice blue ones. The rest of the sentence was hard to push out.

"I…" Spy's mouth was too dry and he couldn't even gulp down.

"Me too." Sniper said, his breath gone ever since Spy's eyes stared at him that way.

Their heads moved closer, their eyes moving from each other's to their noses and their lips. They could hear the other's heartbeat through their parted lips.

But their eyes closed. They couldn't see what would happen next.

Sniper's hand slid down Spy's back and Spy's gloved hands found themselves on the cheeks with the sideburns.

"Je t'aime."

[I love you.]

It was a whisper, with an English accent.

"I love you."

And the answer came with a French twist.

Their lips shyly met. They were shaking. But as soon as they did meet, both Sniper and Spy relaxed, and melted into each other's arms. Their hands brushed the fabrics and the skin that they had yearned to hold, their lips went limp on the lips that they had yearned to kiss, for so long…!

#tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #sniperspy

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writingformadderton · 4 years

Text

Being A Brat

Pairing: Madderton

Word Count: 4104

Summary: Taron has been touchy feel all day and Richard can’t seem to understand why. Well, as they go about their usual errands for the day, Taron’s jealousy gets the better of him and he makes a fool of himself and Rich in the process. Needless to say, Rich is not happy and Taron is in for a punishment....

Additional Tags: Slight BDSM, Sir kink, spanking, orgasm denial, some aftercare in the end. Please enjoy :)

A/N: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVELY ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY (APRIL 22!!!) WE LOVE YOU BABYCAKES!!! SMUT!!! (This is the filth I’ve been needing this entire quarantine and I can’t wait to make more :))

----

It started this morning. Taron woke Richard up with neck kisses and teasing fingers going where they shouldn’t be. But he left Richard hard and horny, a childish giggle leaving his lips when he went to get ready for the day. Richard huffed and took a cold shower to take care of his “problem”.

Then while eating breakfast, Taron made some sneaky remarks to Richard about their activities a few nights ago and how eager he was to repeat that night. Richard tried his hardest to ignore the comments, occupying himself with his coffee and changing the subject. But Taron wouldn’t let up and even touched him underneath the table. He loved watching Rich squirm and try to not get turned on. The effect he had on his husband made him smirk. It continued in the car as they ran errands throughout the day.

But then, he took it too far. In the grocery store, Richard was casually talking to one of the workers who happened to be an old friend. Their conversation just a quick catch-up with some jokes, nothing serious. But Taron didn’t like the attention this store worker was receiving from his husband. His needy attitude turned into a territorial one and he was getting more upset with each passing second. So, he went over and rudely interrupted their conversation, giving the store worker a very nasty attitude. Richard was pissed, his friend had never seen him in such a state. His words to Taron were stern and his glare could burn holes into the body. Richard apologized to his friend and excused themselves, pulling Taron and their groceries to the cashier so they could leave as quickly as possible.

At first, Taron didn’t care about Rich being upset. His jealousy had clouded his judgment and he couldn’t stand to see his lover being so attentive towards someone else when he was literally sitting there begging for attention. Richard calmed enough to exchange a few words with the cashier and pay for their things, as if nothing happened. Making their way to the car, Richard loaded it up while Taron got inside and crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window, a huff leaving his lips. Richard got in the car and started to drive their route home, silently fuming over Taron’s behavior.

After a few minutes of silence, Taron looked at his husband and sighed. He placed his hand on his thigh, but Rich quickly moved it and sternly said “Don’t”. Taron was taken aback by his demeanor and pulled his hand away. He started to apologize, but Rich immediately shut him down. “I don’t wanna hear it Taron. You embarrassed us in the store for no reason! You’re lucky I didn’t leave you there.” He spit out furiously. That stung Taron and he decided not to say anything for the remainder of the ride. Maybe he’ll calm down by the time they get home.

Or not. Definitely not.

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

Richard unlocks the door and walks inside their home, making his way into the kitchen and placing the bags on the counter. Taron walks in behind him, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. After the grocery store incident, Rich was fuming and Taron could tell just by watching the way he moved. He was putting away the contents of their bags rather calmly, but his chest rose and fell with an aggression Taron almost never sees and his nostrils flared. Taron was in deep shit.

“Richie, I’m sorry abo-“ He began to speak nervously, barely audible to the rustle of the bags. But his lover stops in his tracks at the sound of his voice and glares at him, the soup can securely in his grip.

“Don’t! I do not want to hear another word from you, Taron.” Rich spits out, Taron flinching just slightly. “You were unnecessarily rude to the people in that store and have been a pain in my ass all day.” He continues with putting away the remainder of the groceries while Taron stands in front of the island with his head down, like a child being scolded by their mother. “What has gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, I jus-“

“Speak up!” Rich leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

Taron gulps and feel his hands becoming sweaty. Oh shit. “I don’t know. I just got really territorial.” He pressed out and shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“You decided to be a brat, is that it?” The Scottish asks sternly and growls lowly, waiting for an answer. Taron had been touchy and needy all day and Rich didn’t pay much attention to it until the store incident. But now, it clicked. And Taron was going to be punished for it.

Taron slowly looks up from the floor and at his husband, and he silently savored it. Although Richard was mad at him for his behavior, he still managed to look so sexy. The way the veins popped in his arms and his eyes were a darker shade made his heart jump. But all that aside, he knew he was still in deep shit.

Rich notices him staring and sighs, pushing himself away from the counter and coming towards the Welsh slowly. Taron tenses a bit and watches his movements, slowly turning and backing away, “Answer me, Taron.”

“Y-Yes, I was being a b-brat.” He stuttered out as he continued backing up. Richard grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Taron squeaked and looked directly into his lover’s eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Rich grins and wraps his arm around his waist while his other hand gently glides up his body. Taron tenses in his arms after feeling both movements. His lover’s hand ghosts over his arm to his collarbone. Once it reaches his face, he caresses his face lovingly, but the fire in his eyes contrasted the gentle movement. “You know you’re in trouble, right?” He says lowly.

Gulping, Taron opens his mouth to speak, but no sound follows. He licks his lips and gives Rich his best puppy eyes. “Baby, I really am sorry. I just wanted you so bad.” He explains, a slight whine in his tone. By the look in Rich’s eyes, his punishment won’t be pretty. But he was going to try his best to get out of it.

Rich leans down a bit and his lips are dangerously close to his ear. “Oh you still do. I can feel you on my thigh.” He whispers in his ear and a shiver shoots through Taron’s body. With a smirk, he bites softly on his ear. Taron’s eyes flutter closed and he bites his lip to stop a moan from coming up. The hand that was caressing his face makes its way down to his neck and wraps itself around his throat. Rich pulls back and looks down at his lover.

Taron’s eyes open and he blushes at the placement of the older man’s hand.

“This is what you wanted?” He asks him with a raised eyebrow.

Taron nods and swallows.

“Use your words, baby boy.”

“Yes sir, this is what I wanted.” He speaks out.

“Well this was the wrong way to get it. You’ll be begging and crying by the time I’m done with you.” Rich promises and grins when he hears the whimper leave Taron’s chest. He guides Taron out of the kitchen and into the living room, releasing him to sit on the sofa. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down a bit, along with his boxers. With a satisfied smirk on his face, he pulls Taron down to lay across his lap and traps him underneath one of his legs.

“Sir please, go easy on me. I promise I’ll be good from now on.” Taron begins to plead, but the dark chuckle his husband let out was a sign that he was going to have to try harder.

“Baby boy, we are past that. You are going to get everything you deserve.” Rich’s voice drops a few octaves as he rubs a hand over his ass. “And we’re gonna start with a spanking.” He delivers a quick slap to one of his cheeks and the Welsh gasps out.

“Yes sir.” He speaks and closes his eyes. He tries to prepare himself for the next blow as Rich rubs his ass. But it wasn’t enough as he gave another and another and another. Taron cries out with each hit, but the sting brings him pleasure. It makes his cock stir underneath him and he was trying to hold out on getting turned on. ”Fuck.” He barely breathes out.

Richard gives him two more slaps and Taron’s ass was begging to redden at the force. He bites his lip at the sight. The way Taron writhes around in his lap with each hit was making him hard. And he wasn’t the only one getting turned on. Though this isn’t the first time they’ve done this, this is the first time Rich had to really punish Taron and it was stirring up an excitement in both of them that isn’t going unnoticed. Rich rubs his ass and looks down at his lover’s body. “Three more.” He states and the younger man nods and closes his eyes.

The first two came quick and caused Taron to moan and squirm in Richard’s grip. His sounds making Rich needy for more. He rubbed his ass tenderly to relax him, but Taron tenses and holds his breath in preparation for the last one. Rich grins and waits just a few more seconds before delivering the last, forceful hit to his ass. Taron flinches and cries out loudly. He breathes quickly to try and calm his racing heart.

Rich continues to rub his ass tenderly. “You did really good, baby boy.” He assures him sweetly and helps him sit up. Wincing, Taron looks at him and his eyes are glassy. Richard holds his face in his hands and softly kisses his lips to calm him down. Taron relaxes instantly into the kiss and their lips mold together effortlessly. Though it was a punishment, Richard wanted to make sure Taron was okay throughout the entire time. He didn’t want to push his baby too far.

Taron was loving the affection Rich was giving him. But he was hard and needed his touch. “Is my punishment over, sir?” He asks softly and gives him pleading eyes. The Scott grins and shakes his head, forcing a small groan from Taron’s throat.

“We are far from done.” He whispers and roughly kisses his lover. Taron sinks into the kiss and whines a bit. Rich pulls him onto his lap so he is straddling him and deepens the kiss. Taron moves his hands underneath his shirt and pulls it up and off him, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

Richard’s hands wander all over his body. The passion in their veins controlling their movements. He bites the younger man’s lip and smirks at the moan that follows. While he’s distracted, Rich moves a hand in between them and wraps his fingers around Taron’s cock. The Welsh gasps and his eyes flutter closed. “Oh shit.” He moans out.

Rich kisses his neck and bites down as his hand speeds up. Taron begins to thrust into his hand, needing a bit more friction for his aching cock. Rich notices and twists his hand, grinning at how greedy his lover is becoming. “Someone is needy.” He teases and watches him.

“I need you, sir. So fucking bad.” Taron whines and leans forward to grip the couch behind Rich’s head. His thrusts are getting faster and sloppy. The precum leaking from the tip of his cock is being coated all over his with each twist of Rich’s hand. He was like putty in the Scott’s hands and it was such a beautiful sight.

“How bad, baby boy? Are you about to cum?” Rich whispers into his neck and sucks a mark onto his skin.

Taron whines and nods. “Yes sir, I’m getting close.”

Rich smirks and picks up the speed. Taron groans loudly and kisses him passionately. It was full of need and desire, as if it was suffocating the both of them. But Richard was determined to have the upper hand the entire time.

Taron’s hips buck, signaling he was very close. Rich gave him a few more pumps before stopping and removing his hand. Taron instantly whimpers loudly and opens his eyes. “What the fuck? I was close.” He pouts at the shit eating grin on Richard’s face.

Rich slaps his ass hard. “You will cum when I say so.” He reminds him sternly. Grabbing Taron’s waist, he stands up and holds him tight, his husband’s thigh clinging tightly around him. Richard walks them upstairs, whispering to Taron what he was going to do to him and the Welsh’s eyes widening with a gulp. Once in their bedroom, Rich shuts the door and walks over to their bed, laying Taron down a bit forcefully.

He grins down at him and takes his clothes off. Taron sits up on his elbows and watches, biting his lip. He could never get enough of his husband. He was effortlessly sexy and he knew it. And he never gave Taron even a minute to forget it. Once fully naked, Rich reaches into the bedside table and grabs the warming lube. “Strip, now.” He demands and walks over to their dresser, pulling out a few more things.

Taron wastes no time in getting rid of his clothes, peering over at Rich to see what he was doing at the dresser.

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” Rich speaks again and closes the drawer he was fumbling in.

His husband does as he’s told and anxiously waits for what’s to come. Richard turns around and makes his way over to him. He lays out the items on the bed and Taron’s eyes widen.

A cock ring and three of their ties lay beside him.

He looks up at Rich and pleads silently with his eyes, his lips forming a pout.

“Don’t give me that look. This is what you deserve after being a little shit today.” Rich glares at him and picks up the cock ring first. Taron watches him play with it in his hands and backs up a bit. He knew that if Rich put that on him, it would end up messy. But Rich shoots him a glare and a low growl, and Taron stops moving.

He slides the cock ring on, securing it around the base of his cock and balls. Taron moans lowly at the feeling. He was close to cumming and this was going to stop him from doing just that, for as long as Rich wanted. He looked into his lover’s eyes and seen a fire in them. All he could do now was take his punishment.

“Lay down up by the headboard.” Rich instructs him and crawls on the bed. Taron backs up until his back hits the headboard and adjusts a bit to lay down. Grabbing the ties, Richard ties each of Taron’s hands to the bedframe and covers his mouth with the remaining tie. He caresses his face and grins. “I can’t wait to see you all fucked out.” He whispers.

Taron whines and pulls a bit on the ties, though it’s no use.

Rich chuckles and grabs the lube to cover his cock in it, as well as Taron’s. The younger man tenses at the feel of Rich’s hand on his cock. Rich slowly pumps his cock, feeling it swell with each passing second and his husband moaning sweetly. He takes his moment to push into his husband, a loud gasp leaving both of their lips.

Taron speaks, but its muffled by the tie. “What was that love?” Rich swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock and grins. Taron’s eyes flutter and he squirms against his cock. “Would you like me to move?” He raises his eyebrows. He nods fast and groans. “Suit yourself.” Rich teased.

He pulls out of him just enough and slams back into him. A loud squeal leaves the Welsh’s mouth at the force and his eyes roll to the back of his head. Rich begins to pound into him as his hand works on his cock. The timing between the two is perfect and Taron is writhing beneath him, looking just as delicious as ever. His moans, though slightly muffled by the tie, are still music to Richard’s ears and makes him want more. He grabs his thigh with his free hand and wraps it around his waist, changing the angle just a bit to go faster.

Taron groans loudly and pulls on the ties, needing to reach out and touch his husband. But his efforts are useless and instead, he grips onto them tightly as he feels Richard digger deeper into him. “Fuck!” He yells out as best as he can, his eyes closing.

Rich had sped up his hand in tune with his thrusts and watches as his husband’s aching cock swells along with his balls. The tip was an angry red from the restriction. Taron’s body was becoming sweaty and sensitive. The cock ring was tight enough to stop him from cumming and you could tell the effect it had on Taron. He could only take the punishment and say Richard’s name over and over again like a prayer.

“Fuck, you look so fucking good like this, baby boy.” Richard pants out as he fucks him faster, squeezing his fingers around his cock. Taron’s eyes began to water and he let out a long whine. He could barely take it. His balls were almost ready to explode and his cock was painfully hard.

“Please sir!” He almost screams through the tie. Rich groans and pulls out, flipping him onto his stomach and putting his ass in the air. The Welsh took this time to breathe, but Rich soon filled him up again. He lets out a pained moan and tears began to fall from his eyes.

Rich picked up his fast pace and slaps his ass roughly. Taron grabbed the ties as tightly as he could, enjoying the sting on his ass as it distracted him from his aching cock. The Scott moaned and gripped his hips harshly, pounding him into the mattress. He was letting all his pent-up anger out on the younger man, teaching him the lesson he deserved. He will think twice before even attempting to pull his little stunt from earlier again.

“Sir! Oh fuck!” Taron manages to cry out in between his moans. Richard leans over him and bites his ear just right, making the younger man gasp. He moves the tie from around his mouth so he could speak, but kept his same fast pace. Taron’s body began to tremble and he couldn’t take it anymore. “Sir please! It hurts!” He whines. Tears were rolling down his cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure and pain mix.

“It hurts?” He grins. “Do you need to cum baby boy?”

“Yes yes please!” He begins to beg. “I really need to cum. I can’t hold it anymore!”

“Will you pull be a brat again? Am I gonna have to punish you again?” He asks and leans up, slapping his ass a few times, hard.

“No! No I swear! I’m sorry! I won’t be a brat anymore!” He pleads with his husband. “Oh fuck yes!” He could hear his voice becoming raspy and crack from the tears now falling down his face. The pleasure was too much for Taron to handle and Rich was ready to cum.

“You better fucking not, Taron.” He growls and slaps his ass once more before slowing down. Reaching underneath him, he slides the cock ring off and Taron releases a deep sigh. Richard returns to his original pace and tangles one hand in Taron’s hair while the other gripped his waist.

“Yesss, oh fuck! Right there!” Taron pants out and lays his head on the pillows underneath him. He was about to burst in a few more thrusts. “Sir, please let me cum! I swear I’ll behave!” He cries out again.

“Cum!” Richard urges as he feels his own cock beg for release. Taron shouts his name as he cums hard on the sheets. His body shakes as hot ropes of cum shoot from his cock. Richard gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he stills and cums inside Taron. He growls at the feeling and grips Taron’s hips to steady himself. Once he finished, he pulls out of Taron and pants.

The Welsh collapses onto the bed, his breathing heavy and loud. Tears streaks stained his face and he closed his eyes to get himself together as best as he could. Richard removes the ties from his wrists and the one hanging loosely around his neck. He threw them on the floor and laid next to Taron, gently turning him over and holding him close to his body. He was still sniffling a bit.

Caressing his face, Rich softly lifts his chin up and looks into his lover’s eyes. “Are you okay, my love?” He asks, genuine concern in his eyes and tone. Now that the punishment was over, Rich was only concerned with taking care of Taron and showing him nothing but love.

Taron gives a small smile and nods. “I’m alright, love. Although my ass stings and wrists are a bit bruised.” He chuckles softly and licks his dry lips. His voice was very raspy from all the yelling. Rich sat up and reached into the bedside table, getting a water bottle. Helping Taron sit up against his chest, he opens the bottle and helps him drink. Taron sighs relieved and drinks more than half the bottle. Pulling away, he closes it. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You did so good, baby. You took your punishment well.” He praised and kissed his hair, caressing his arms softly.

Taron nods and wraps his arms around his lover. “I’m sorry for being a brat, Richie. I won’t do it again.” He speaks softly and gives him the sincerest eyes he could. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the extreme pleasure from his punishment. He just didn’t want to push his body to such limits again any time soon.

“It’s alright love. If I was a bit too rough, I’m sorry. I just had to teach you a lesson.” Rich kisses his temple and holds him tight. “I’m gonna run us a bath, you sit tight, alright?” Rich says and smiles when Taron nods. He gets out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, turning on the water and adding bubbles and lavender to the water. Once the tub was filled high enough, he went back into the room and found Taron cuddling one of the pillows, almost asleep. Rich walks over and gently picks him up in his arms, taking him to the bathroom and sitting him into the bath.

Taron wakes up a bit and relaxes in the warm water. Richard climbs in behind him and helps him wash his body and hair. Taron melts into his touch and allows Rich to take care of him. The older man cherishes him and makes sure he completely relaxed after their bath. After they get clean and the water turns cold, they get out and wrap themselves in fresh towels. Richard grabs the soothing cream the from cabinet and applies it to Taron’s wrists and ass gently.

Walking back into the room, Rich makes Taron sit on the loveseat at the foot of the bed while he changes the sheets and opens the window a bit to let some fresh air in. He changes into boxers and gets a pair for Taron, helping him put them on. They climb into bed and Taron lays his head on Rich’s chest, wrapping his arms around him.

His husband pulls him close and kisses his forehead, gently running his hand up and down his back. “I love you Taron.” He says softly, not knowing if the man was asleep or not.

Taron looks up and smiles. “I love you more.” He whispers. He leans up and kisses him tenderly. Richard caresses his face and pulls back from the kiss, a smile on his lips. Taron lays his head on his chest again and closes his eyes, drifting off. All while Richard holds him close and tight.

@sarahegerton96 @anxiety-at-the-classroom @multicoloredchicken @taron-eggmcmuffin @naptitimadderton @primaba11erina @maddertonmyheart @madderton-obsessed

#taron egerton #richard madden #madderton #taron egerton fanfiction #richard madden fanfiction #madderton fanfiction #taron egerton smut #richard madden smut #madderton smut #smut

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cooloddball · 4 years

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DESTIEL AND COCKLES RANT

THIS IS A RANT ON ALL THINGS DESTIEL AND COCKLES

PS. I do not know how to make gifs and or use photos yet so feel free to add yours

I have said this before and I will say it again. I have been in this fandom for a month and I ship Destiel and Cockles anyone who has a problem with this then move along and/or if you are an anti and read this, keep your hateful comments to yourself.

That being said, I have read about almost all ships in the fandom but mostly Destiel, Cockles, Wincest, and J2. Through all the reading and discovery, I still have to say I ship Cockles and Destiel more than ever before. However, I have seen some things from the antis that did not sit well with me.

This is going to be a long post so brace yourself and it is mostly about the hate the antis (anti-cockles, anti-wives , and anti-Destiel Shippers spread). Also this is a rant so don’t mind me,

ON DESTIEL

The hate on Destiel is massive. Mostly this is from Bronlies who hate Cas like he is the anti-Christ, and the Wincest shippers.

Now I am not trying to rain on anyone’s parade but come on. Cas is Dean’s best friend. Whether you ship them romantically or not, it is canon that Cas Dean’s best friend. We have seen time and again how miserable Dean is every time Cas dies. Dea has also expressly stated that Cas is his best friend and even said they are better together; all three of them including Sam. He has called him his family. So why the hate? Chuck himself has said that he has rebuilt Cas more times than anyone.

Now, people who believe that it is better to ship Sam and Dean who are literally blood brother but it is not okay to ship Dean and Cas what is wrong with you? Is it okay for someone to fuck their brother and/or be in love with them? I mean come on.

Before I was even a shipper, I always looked forward to episodes that Cas was in. He brought a different dynamic to the show in a positive way. Yes, I love the brothers but Cas is just deifferent and all the sass he brings makes the show, at least to me 10 times better. Sue me.

People saying that JA would never be comfortable with Destine because he is a Christian. I mean, he can call Chuck a dick, call angels dicks, make deals with demons and all other unchristian things but kissing another man is where he draws the line? If he was such a Christian, why does he let another man straddle him on stage or want to kill God?

Someone once said that JA supports wincest. I saw the video and I get what he said is that whatever floats your boat or something like that. So why is it so hard for him when it comes to Destiel? I don’t understand this man. He is a paradox.

ON COCKLES

I have seen antis, mostly those who ship J2 throw shade at MC saying that JA doesn’t like him, he just tolerates him and everything they do is for PR. I have not once seen anyone say that JP doesn’t like MC. You know why? I believe they view MC as a threat to their J2 ship.

So I stumbledupon this antis blog who had a whole analysis (much like am doing here) on why JA cannot be a couple. Here are some that I remember from the top of my head:

1. That JA said that he thinks Matt Bomer is attractive.

2. That JA moved to Austin to be live next to JP.

3. That JA and MC have nothing in common being that JA plays golf and sings etc and that MC does woodwork, writes poetry and bicycle touring.

4. That JA is with JP hence no. 2.

5. That JA does not curse on stage but MC does.

6. That MC does not take acting seriously but JA does.

Now now now. This beats logic. All the above things I beg to differ with not because I am cockles shipper but it is just common sense.

Being with someone or rather being in love with someone does not mean any of the above things have to be true. Hear me out.

1. On finding Matt Bomer attractive. I have many celebrity crushes, there are also ordinary people that I find attractive. But then again, I have a boyfriend, who I am in love with; I have been with for six years. But he looks nothing like my celebrity crushes or the ordinary people I find attractive. Does that mean I am not in love with him? No. It means I have eyes and I can appreciate beauty and have a few fantasies but I chose to be with him because I love him. He also has other people he finds attractive that look nothing like me, does that mean he does not love me? I mean come on.

Oh the most hilarious thing is that the anti said you cannot compare Matt to MC since Matt is way attractive. I mean come on; they may not look alike but they both have dark hair, blue eyes. Seriously people! And MC is so handsome and adorable at the same time. Sometimes I feel like he looks better than JA and JP. Sue me.

2. On JA moving to Austin. Lol. This means that he went to live next to his best friend. I mean come on. I have moved to live next to my best friend (bff) who is married. Does that mean I am in love with her? Hell no! But I feel safer knowing that she is there for me.

Also people need to understand, MC and JA could be involved romantically or not (pick your poison) but you don’t need to be next to your lover to love them or be in a relationship with them. Lond distance relationships anyone? They have families and kids and other priorities. Just because you are in a relationship with someone does not necessarily mean you live together or evn in the same area. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and also they are where they are now because of other priorities in their lives. So, living together or in the same town doesn’t make you more or less in love.

3. On the issue of common interests. This made me laugh so hard. I mean comeon, People who are together do not need to share any interests. The diversity of their interests is probably what attracted them to each other. Also how can you say a poet and a singer have nothing in common? They are artists. MC can write poems that JA can sing. Oh also remember that video MC’s friend DM posted on Twitter where they did the whole bicycle touring in Germany? Uh huh? JA seemed to be interested in that a lot. So..

4. I could say a lot about JA being with Jp. This J2 being married and their wives being beards is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. Seriously, J2 tinhats have gone ahead to hate of D’s posts and call her names. Telling her to stop pretending that she is JA. It is laughable and not in a nice way, really. Can they just stop? Before I became a cockles shipper I watched J2 videos where they interact be it cons, red carpet moments or even gag reels. It is just different. All I see are two bros; one that is really playful like a little puppy and the other one trying to be the big brother. As for JA and MC, it is different, there are things that JA is comfortable when Mc does that he is not comfortable when JP does them. Neck kisses for a start.

Also most of the J2 tinhats evidence about J2 being real is rarely backed up by visual evidence and if there is any, it is usually from years ago. I am not hating on antis, just stating facts.

5. I mean, cursing on stage really? I curse all the time my bf doesn’t. Does that mean he doesn’t like me or love me? Hell to the Fucking No! Suck it!

6. On Mc not taking acting seriously. Yeah I can guess why he doesn’t. It is not his only priority unlike JA who has chosen it as a career path. From what I have seen, MC’s priorities include making the world a better place through charities, politics, and oh, he is also a writer. Oh so forgive him if he is not obsessed with acting. Besides JA says that he likes how he acts as Cas because it is not like anything he has seen from other guest stars that have come on the show. I mean not being serious about something does not mean that you are not good at it. Would he have lasted 11 seasons if he was not good at what he does?

There was also hate that JA is only around MC for PR and he actually hates him. There were some photos and gifs so the apparent hate. So, if he cannot stand him, why is there so much evidence of JA going to MC to give some love, Neck kisses, intimate IG posts, face caresses, ass smacks, calling him his baby dadfy, heart eyes, even when they don’t know that they are being filmed?

Also why is it during the Vegascon 2020 all JA did was bring up MC unnecessarily even when no one, absolutely nobody asked him to. Come on! stop the bs and admit that Cockles is the realest ship in the history of ships!!

ON THE WIVES

I swear bitches be crazy. How can you just hat someone for literally nothing? This is mostly from J2 tinhats at other J2 stans who do not ship J2 together romantically. I mean…comeon. You do not need to be a stan for the wives just because they are married to J2 but please stop with the madness.

I recently saw someone comment on various JA posts on IG asking why he is lying to the fans that he is with D when he is with JP. So many rude things have been said about the wives especially D that it breaks my heart.

Seiously? People have gone ahead even to say that she is with JA’s friend SC and that the twins are not JA’s they are SC’s since D and SC are ‘always’ hanging out together. My question is, so D is not supposed to hang out with their friends? And for Chuck’s sake, everyone can see that the twins especially the boy (idk their names, sorry) looks like JA’s twin. I mean come on people.

I believe that they hate D because she says how much she loves MC and that Cas is her favorite character and that they are also bitter that JA chose her and not them. Just my opinion, but what do I know. On JP and G. I don’t know much about them mostly because I do not follow either of them of IG or elsewhere but I have seen hate on G as well.

The antis have gone ahead to say that when JA said that he was hanging out with SC writing songs, that he was lying and that nothing was happening he was just trying to dampen the rumours. I wonder how they felt when the album by JA and Sc came out last year. Jokes on you haters. Bitches be crazy fr.

Oh, the antis also say that the same way JA looks at his wife is the same way he looks at MC. With contempt. I mean talk about hanging yourself with your own rope. What they are saying is, JA feels about his wife the same way he feels abouts MC. Aww! That is true love bitches.

If JA actually cannot stand MC, shouldn’t he have gotten him fired from the show or at least make sure he gets less screen time and that they don’t have any panels together being that JA is the star of the show and all. I mean Mark left and he was a major character to the plot so...

Also why would JA give and buy MC clothes if he hates him? Give him a ring, a bracelet? Huh? Explain it to me.

Oh, some anti also said that before every Cockles panel at JIBCON JA cries and has to be forced on stage by Daniella and JP has to give him a hug and that’s why he drinks a lot of apple juice. LOL. WTF? What do you say to such people. I cannot even..My question is, are we talking about the same Cockles panels that I have seen? Then JA deserves all the Oscars and Tony Awards for his impeccable acting skills when he is around MC. Must really hate him. *wink*

MY TWO CENTS ON COCKLES

I know JA gives off mixed actions about MC. But I think it is to confuse people like us, shippers. He does’t want to too out there so he tries so hard to be mean with his words. But his actions tell a different story. I mean, who gets a boner when their friend straddles them on stage and then goes ahead to post that chest to chest selfie on IG. That is the gayest thing I have ever seen.

Sharing clothes? I mean friends do share clothes but if it is like a daily thing. More than 20 articles of clothing exchanged between each other on various occasions even when they are apart does not make sense to me. And to make matters worse, JA does not deny it. One even had a tag on it. Lol. We are not children, we can see what is going on.

The 2014 DallasCon – Rob’s Birthday Party. WTF? Was all that between JA and MC? Why did he he swallow and react like that when he saw MC’s bare abdomen? Who does that? Also the looks when MC was leaving the stage. Come on.

Also what was up with the” I love you from the bottom of my heart” at the MTV top 10 in 2010.

The wife is my rock but I am glad to have some pebbles in my life.

Truth is, JA could post a video of him balls deep in MC and the antis could say that somehow MC manipulated JA to post it for PR.

People need to leave MC alone, he ie a human being who has made mistakes, JA and JP have too and I don’t see the antis hating on them. The double Standard s FOH.

I could write about this forever but the truth is JA loves MC, and D and V know that they love each other. All their friends know including JP and other castmates. I believe they know it is more than just friends and the antis can’t stand it because they also know it to be true.

JA LOVES MC. JP LOVES MC. J2M LOVE EACH OTHER. J2 LOVE THEIR WIVES. STOP THE HATE!!

I am not done but I am done for now. I could be here forever writing about this if I do not stop.

#destiel #cockles #cockles is real #cockles csi #stop the hate #antis are mean

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hungryflowers · 4 years

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Let Me Fall In Love With You

RadioHusk Week Prompt Day 6: Why Are you Like This

Chapter 6: Not There, But Getting There

He moved on. Alastor bitterly mouthed to himself. Despair bit at his heart like a feral beast with icy fangs. He could feel the maw rip a hole through his chest, plunging the knives into the blackening meat over and over again. There were tiers to despair, he found out. The first one was the smoldering, unquenched fire stirring up in his bones; any movements he made, sounds he heard, voices that spoke stoked the flames until the reached into the second tier. The scorching was when the fires came out. Rage unfamiliar, intense, violent rushed out of him. It was fuel from his smoldering, the fires warring out of control, heat slithering into his mind as it ruled his every thought. It became a parasite that made him act upon irrationality. In this fit he would scream, mostly at himself, throw things, rip up and down his home upheaving many things along the way. After it was over the final tier came; snuffing.

It came when he was tired, apathetic, emotionless to the damage he had caused. To everything; from his home to the frailty of the relationship he wanted to have. He’d lay in his bed, on the floor, he’d sit by the fireplace for an hour or so just to leer at the flames until his eyes hurt. He would go hours without the sustenance of a meal one minute, then go and binge to feel something the next. It was like this for him now; the feelings of fullness in his belly but not in his empty shell he excused for a beating heart. He wondered why his heart even kept up beating if he wasn’t well, and in truth, very dead.

His eyes sprang with droplets of what tasted like salt from his eyes on every other occasion. He’d grown accustomed to their taste and feel, so he let them fall from his eyes in silent weeps. The frontal sadness making his shake like the brittle leaves in a winter wind. The things barely clinging to life on the tree.

When he was done feeling sorry... for anything, he’d go out on the town to his Parlor. The lively jazz and swinging atmosphere could do the trick in helping out his mood. He’d be out there all night, listening to the music, watching the girls sing and dance past him, spare a glance to a gentleman or two who wanted to hear him sing again. The radio demon became more a spectator than an owner at his club. There were no new talents he went to introduce, no drink specials, no fun dance and song numbers tonight. The liveliness sailed clean out of him. He let the club pass him by every single night. For a month straight. He did do something when he went however. He forgets his resentment toward himself on how he treated Husk.

The feeling was to remain temporary. Each time he went home, the despair coiled inside of him again. This cycle was never going to end.

Alastor decided to shake up his usual pity party by going further into the city. The places where he felt like he needed to spend his time were going to be much different than what he’d prefer. Not to say he had never been to some of these places before, he didn’t frequent them like the grander majority of the others. Huge grin plastered on his face, posture highly exaggerated, a simple tune playing on his lips, Alastor went inside to a cleanly looking chateaux building known merely as Champagne. The flashing white neons brought in a luxurious, risqué feel to the place. One would most likely mistake it for a brothel on the outside.

Clear to form on the inside, the establishment was more like an extravagant lounge area with unnecessarily long lounging couches, purplish pink tile floors and tactful decorations by the walls. Every inch of the lounge was aesthetic and pleasing to the eyes, as well as varying other senses. Alastor didn’t much care for women who’s eyes were on him the second he entered the double doors. They greeted him with a superficial retail smile and a little coy giggle, a few of them tried at getting handsy yet never touched him. Other females kept their distance, but never stopped scoping out the chance to get near him.

With a flick of his wrist Alastor gestured to one of the many girls at the bar. Heels clacked on the tiles as she bent over suggestively to take his order. She was a bit tall, though the heels could keep up the illusion. Siren like yellow eyes shimmered in the neons of the lounge, her skin appeared a slight grey, or an off white and she was covered in sleek, silkened fur. Well trimmed nails tapped on an electric device before she gestured to listen, short ears swiveling to Alastor’s attention.

Alastor kept it simple with his drink, just an Ol’ Fashioned and she was sent on her way to fetch it. Though not before grazing her nails along his down facing palm.

The joint didn’t look too busy tonight, in spite of it being in a high traffic part of the city. Intriguing thought to not have that many sinners out tonight. This side was a prowler’s paradise. He paid for his drink, tipping his hat to the server then headed out for the night, nothing sparking his interest in the club.

Alastor went for a walk. He didn’t have a clear destination in mind for sometime. The streets appeared a bit desolate on this night, giving a visual light of how he was feeling on the inside. Save a few smaller imps causing mischiefs wherever they went nothing struck to him. His mind mumbled on how he would never get the opportunity to see Husk again, nor find out if there was anything he could do to fix the wrong. There wasn’t a use on lamenting on it now. Husk found no love in him. There was no love to be found in this beast, Alastor scoffed bitterly. His ears drooped more, perforated smile wobbling, seeming to wilt at the corners. Those same salty drops stung at the corner of his eyes.

That cycle of misery began anew as he went as far away to make sure no others were able to see him like this.

The park gate was open as he went through to find a more quiet area. The skies bled deeper shades of red as he went further into the woods. The shades merged with Alastor’s jacket as the shadows twisted off in the distance. His eyes went to the shadowy shaded shelter of a mighty oak; leaves not yet shed, splotches of red and oranges decorated the trunks and branches. A soft gust pulled some of the leaves causing them to rustle in a whisper. The roots appeared to be coming out of the ground, some intertwining with each other, the more few peeking out to look like a sleeping place.

In its shadow, Alastor looked so small. Helpless, even defenseless. The salty drops rained down his cheeks before Alastor collapsed on the trunk, ears falling back totally, eyes squeezed shut in the phantom throngs on pain. His face began to hurt as he sniveled and snarled. He had never done this before. Since his eternity in Hell, nothing has ever brought him to this pain. He was invincible. A telling of power and strength. He comes from an era that projects his strength; the force and will of a man. He never saw any men around him have this feeling before. Not even his own father told him about this kind of dread, shame and misery. There’s nothing he can make of this ultimate sadness.

He lets his feelings flow. Unchecked and unfiltered, and now it starts to make him feel different. It isn’t a bad feeling, but it doesn’t make him feel good. More tears fall, a sigh comes unevenly. The breeze caresses his stinging cheeks- no... not a breeze. He withdraws immediately to feel the feathery tell of a tail brushing against his face. He opens his eyes to peer at the flickering red plumage at the end of the sooty tail.

“So the Radio Demon cries?” The weathered tone sounds too familiar. It’s exactly who he expects.

Alastor looks up to see Husk, perched quietly on the top of one of the branches close to Alastor. He seems to smile at him, marigold eyes closing slow and soft as his tail swipes along the deer demon’s face, wiping away the stray tears.

“H-Husk...,” He sounds so exhausted, in pain even, “How... H-How did you... I-I thought I was-”

“Alone?” Husk inquired, ears tilting to the sniffling of the young man. His pupils widened when Alastor nodded before slumping against the tree. Both accumulated silence, the quiet giving Alastor time to right himself while he thought of the next thing to say. Husk managed to sit up to stretch, the angle of his body creaking and crackling in discomfort. A minor shake later and Husk was climbing downwards to sit next to the deer demon.

“So this is what a month without me reduced you to?”, Husk says pitifully, “Jesus you look like shit.” The male laughed when Alastor turned to look at him.

“I...I normally am not like this.” He whispers, static coming and going.

“What? Sobbing like an orphan? Yeah, crying’s really hard to do around here.” Husk’s paw went to Alastor’s face, scrubbing some trails.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I never would have done that if I knew it was bound to make things worse. I can’t wrong you for hating me, for fearing me. For... despising me. I’m an overlord. I’m one of powers of occult magics and elite status, I’m just not used to being told ‘no’, or having to force myself to get a hard look at...well, myself,” The radio demon brushed back his hair, gloves a bit damp from drying his tears, “I realize now that everything I was trying just wasn’t making you happy. And if that’s something you want more of, I’ll step aside. This won’t continue, I’ll move on, if it’s just for your sanity.”

Husk kept quiet the whole of Alastor’s apology. He felt like he shouldn’t accept it, but something about him just made his heart give. Who knew a month of stewing in your own failure did the trick in making him realize he’d been in the wrong. Husk wanted to keep brushing the tears from Alastor’s eyes, he wanted to shove himself into him and give the biggest hug that would do the best in calming him down. He wanted a lot of things, but this was just fine for him.

Alastor. The infamous Radio Demon let his walls down, apologized openly to him. Between them now was not a barrier of mistrust and disguised discomfort. At this moment, Husk could, was feeling sorry for him.

“I-I-I just want to make this, us better. If you’ll allow me.” The deer demon lifted his left hand, holding it close enough for Husk to keep his eye on, but never to touch.

The old male looked at Alastor’s hand and then his face. His smile was warbled and trembling. His frame looked as if it were to fall apart, crumble if a single gust of wind were to blow. He was a mess, way too vulnerable for any other Sinner to see him like this. Husk’s full moon wide eyes rippled in the night; the only light that looked natural in all of the bloody red.

Husk’s own claw extended. Alastor watched it, unsure. He probably felt that he was going to knock it away and storm away. He had it in his head that he was beyond forgiveness at this point. This his words were just theatre and there was nothing genuine in the tangent to be shown. The thoughts vanished the moment Husk’s supple paw closes over Alastor’s willow-like fingers.

“I’m glad that you don’t want to keep things the way they used to be. The thought being body-slammed every time I tell ya to fuck off is grating. Al, I don’t want you to go anywhere feeling how you feel now. So that just means you’re stuck with me until you get your shit together.” The cat chuckled as he pulled him in for a wide hug. His wings opened, leaning down to caress over the other man’s body.

“Wait...what?” Alastor’s response was watery and shaky at best. His body shook as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You heard me,” Husk could feel the free fall of his own tears as he pulled Alastor in more, “We’re in this for the long haul, so you better get used to it.” He laughed as his cheek fur brushed into Alastor’s cheekbones. There was a little rumble coming from Alastor as the deer demon chuckled with him.

“Should I ever be so lucky? Why are you like this?” The tears died down as the young man leant in further, body going lax in Husk’s assured grip.

“Like what? Funny and blunt as fuck? Years of turning my nose up at everyone and failing to care makes it that much easier.” He pulled back a slight, cheek still nestled into Alastor’s.

“I want to start over. I owe you all of that.” Alastor pulled back to look Husk in the face.

“Don’t want that. No reason to go back to where we were. Let’s just take off from where we are.” Husk softened a touch as he pressed his forehead to Alastor’s. He sighed in contentment, his paw still holding Alastor’s as he pressed to his chest.

“I...love you.” Alastor stated shyly.

“Not... quite there in terms of affirmations yet. Let’s just be like this for a while longer.” Husk pulled away, eyes lulling dreamily as he nuzzled Alastor again.

“Okay...”, The younger gent sighed softly, “Do you want to come back home with me? I’ll make you a fresh meal. With just my hands. I promise I won’t do anything.” He pulled his knees out from underneath as he tried to stand. His smile brightened when Husk nodded, his posture welcoming to the idea.

“I can eat. I’d like that a lot.” It was a simple response with a special feeling tied deep within. The gesture, the words. They had all been fine for Alastor during this time. Now he felt as if he didn’t want to move too fast in the hopes of keeping this safe. And keeping Husk happy. He’d have to relearn this type of love. Now’s a better than ever and Husk looked to be patient.

After all, anything worth having is definitely worth fighting for. And Alastor was willing to go to war to protect it. If that’s what it all meant.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel husk #husk #alastor

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years

Text

Day 11: Stitches

(Don’t give up.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 11: Stitches

Word Count: 1686

Relationships: logince (pre-relationship)

Warnings: Splitting stitches, stab wound (no actual stabbing occurs in this fic! he only breaks the stitches in a still-healing previous injury), blood, mentioned transphobia/transphobic bigotry, cursing, slightly delirious behaviour

A/N: i know it’s a day late. i’m awful. sorry. hopefully dumbass gay roman being smitten with trans boy logan makes up for the wait a little bit

Okay, so maybe Roman should have listened to Patton when he said not to strain himself. And maybe it was a little rash of him to get up and punch the guy despite the strain it caused him. But he doesn’t regret it! Nope! He will gladly take the pain of ripped stitches any day if it means punching a transphobe in the face.

And. Well. Maybe “pain” is a bit of an understatement, because holy shit why does it hurt so much is he dying? According to the cute boy he literally fought a bigot for despite never meeting him before in his life, no. He’ll be fine if he stops squirming, the guy says, but Roman can’t sit still when he’s literally falling in love with this cute stranger, so. Time for funeral arrangements. Maybe his new husband will come weep at his grave, bring him a single red rose to place on his tombstone. It’ll be so poetic, and it’ll be beautiful, and he’ll lay his ghostly hand on his new husband’s shoulder in comfort, and he’ll laugh at Virgil from the grave because he got a boyfriend first!

“Hey! Prince Charming! Don’t zone out on me like that,” his new husband commands, and who’s Roman to ignore such a pretty face? A pretty face, which is currently a lot closer than he anticipates, and Roman almost knocks their heads together when he jolts up in surprise. His new husband is pressing hard on his opened stitches, and although Roman’s sure he knows what he’s doing (he has glasses, and all the smart people have glasses, everyone knows that), it still hurts like a bitch. Pretty boy sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he examines Roman’s stomach, and although the small detail makes Roman’s heart go doki-doki in his chest, he can’t seem to look away from the stranger’s own sharp, focused gaze. Who gave him the right to have eyes like that? All shiny and silvery like metal, or maybe Roman’s third-favourite shade of nail polish.

“I’ll try to wipe off some of the blood, but I can’t do much more than that, not here. It’s too unsanitary and I don’t have proper equipment. I won’t risk infection with impatience. The paramedics will take care of it,” his new husband says plainly, brushes his fingers against Roman’s side, and Roman is pretty sure he’s dying. There’s no way that this isn’t an angel. Although, Roman never expected that angels would be so… bossy. The handsome stranger instructs him to keep pressure on his side, details how exactly to hold his hands to his stained skin. Maybe he could be a little gentler about it? Especially when he puts his hands over Roman’s own, and presses harder, and draws a groan from Roman’s throat. “Oh, stop whining. It’s your fault you decided to be unnecessarily reckless for no reason.”

“Ha! For-- For no reason? I would punch that guy ‘gain for you if I h’d the chance!” Roman exclaims, slurred in pain yet loud in the buzzing energy of the outdoors cafe he's probably gonna die in. Honestly, maybe he's okay with dying right now. Yeah, he's sitting here sprawled in a cafe chair bleeding out, but he also has his new husband with him, so who's the real winner here?

"Your new husband, huh? I wasn't aware that we were married already. Shouldn’t you at least ask your potential suitor on a date first?" the pretty stranger muses, face stoic, but there's a teasing glint in his eyes and a subtle smirk as he uses some napkins to wipe a spot of blood off of Roman's hip. The touch sends a shiver down his spine, lends itself to a sense of familiarity despite them never having met before now. Is he talking out loud? Those thoughts were supposed to stay in his head. Hopefully his new husband isn’t annoyed by long rambles at two a.m., because that’s like… Roman’s whole aesthetic. “Although, I suppose the legal and financial benefits of marriage are a positive, despite the tradition itself being an unnecessarily exorbitant game of ‘who can spend the most money and look as rich and successful as possible’ whilst perpetuating wildly amatonormative societal expectations of seeming stable to your friends and family purely through means of surface appearance. But sure, weddings are fun.”

“Haah… Y’sound like Virgil,” Roman mutters as he knocks his head back to rest on the table behind him. The handsome stranger immediately puts his cleaner hand underneath his head and lifts it up, cradling the dead weight with a small frown. “H-- Sorry, wanna… wanna sleep. Virgil a’ways says that weddings are stupid. You guys’d get along. Wait, no, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of shitty ideas.”

“Mm, I’m sure you have. Punching a transphobe for a stranger is definitely one to add to the list. Don’t fall asleep, Prince Charming. You’re not losing that much blood. Hey, you-- how far away are the paramedics?” And… wow. Even the way he speaks makes Roman want to snatch him up. He’s so authoritative, and obviously doesn’t take shit from anyone, and Roman could probably listen to him talk forever. He’ll be like his own personal audiobook. An ASMR YouTuber that lives in his house and shows off that amazing voice of his but also gives him cuddles because that’s what cute husbands do together. That’s the dream.

“An… ASMR YouTuber? You sure have strange priorities.”

“‘S important! Oh, hey… wha’s your name? I have to know how t’ introduce y’a to my friends. ‘Oh, hey Virgil, this is my husband… Bob McBookshelf. I got a cute boyfriend before you, give me fifty dollars.’ Y’know, like that,’ Roman asks, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even really know what he’s talking about anymore. He just knows that talking makes him more lucid, and his new husband told him to stay awake, so he’s going to try his best to do just that.

“Ah. Well, my name unfortunately is not Bob McBookshelf. It is Dr. Chae, professionally, but you may refer to me as Logan if you’d like,” Logan says, Dr. Chae, and Roman is taken aback. Not only is his new husband cute, and has the best voice he’s ever heard, but he’s also smart? And a doctor?!

“Woah. That’s so cool. I can’t believe I’m g’nna marry a doctor. Wait, does that mean I get your last name? Roman Chae. That sounds weird. Fits you better. Guess we don’t have to change our las’ names. And! You’re a doctor, ‘f course y’a can’t change it now. Wow… a doctor. You are the coolest person I’ve ever met. And I met Beyoncé once. She didn’t see me or talk to me, but it was still awesome. And you-- you’re a doctor. You must be suuuuuper smart. Already got a college degree ‘n’ stuff. But you… don’t look old.”

Logan’s eyes flick up to meet his, incredulity written across his face, and then it morphs into something almost fond as he lets out an amused huff of a laugh. He looks beautiful, even as he shoves his hands back on Roman’s open wound again, and Roman thinks maybe he’s a masochist or something. He should be angry at the rough treatment, but somehow, he doesn’t really care that much. Oddly enough, he trusts this stranger, his new husband, and Roman could probably get stabbed again except this time by this guy and even so he’d be the one apologizing. “I’m 24. My school experience went by very quickly.”

“Ohhhhh… you’re one of those. Those… smarty-pants people. Smarty people. Pants people. Logan, am I dying?” Roman feels delirious, and he probably is. Logan snickers quietly, smiles small and soft and-- and-- Roman has a feeling that if the blood loss doesn’t kill him, Logan’s adorable smile will. Thankfully, he can hear sirens outside, and that must mean an ambulance is here.

Wait.

“Wai-wai-wait, Log’n, why’d y’a call an ambulance? I’m fine,” Roman asks, reassures even as he moans dramatically when another stinging ache reverberates from the wound. “It hurts but I c’n take it! Had t’a… had t’a before! Got stabbed, did’ja know that? It sucked. My best friend… ex-best friend did it to me. Thought she was cool. She was… not cool. But! I don’t need a hospital. Jus’ a… just a little. Little papercut. Small. I c’n sleep it off. I’m strong.”

“You absolutely can not. You do understand that you didn’t just get stabbed, right? Your “ex-best friend” slashed at your stomach. The laceration is at least eight inches in length, who knows how deep, and you broke a majority of the stitches with the stunt you pulled. There is a very real possibility of you bleeding out without medical assistance. Sit still so I can make sure pressure stays on the wound, and then the paramedics will pick you up, and then your stitches will be re-sewn. There is no need for panic, but you can’t fall asleep, either.”

And, well. Maybe Logan has a point. She did yell something about splitting him in half when she did it, but Roman doesn’t really remember the encounter that well. But Logan’s a doctor! And he’s smart! So he obviously knows what he’s talking about. He can’t die before he gets married to his beautiful doctor husband. That would be the worst ending to the Disney movie that is his life. Well, if Disney had stayed true to the source content and featured a lot more gore and dramatic gay lamenting.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be your doctor husband, as you say, as long as you take me on a date first. Now hold. Still,” Logan demands, exasperated, and Roman isn’t even aware he was moving. Maybe he’s just wiggling because all of his love for his cool new husband is bursting out of him. And he says so, manages to get Logan to crack that pretty smile again, and Roman’s injury hurts just a little less.

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ilu-writes · 5 years

Text

Face Paint

Days and Nights (Solangelo)

Ratings: G | Warnings: none

AO3 | FF.net

Prev | x | Next

Will gets help with his costume from an unexpected source.

“I need you to make me look terrifying,” said Will, watching as Nico opened the cheap face paints. “It’s a matter of pride.”

Nico was probably the last person he would’ve considered asking for help with this, but the other boy had offered as soon as Will had complained to him about being bad at it.

Will had taken one look at the younger boy, who looked like he’d never touched a paintbrush in his life, and had said yes immediately, because he was that desperate to spend time with him.

At the very least, if the face painting went badly, he’d get to enjoy Nico’s company for a while.

“Pride?” Repeated Nico, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Me and Lou Ellen have an ongoing competition over who can get the scariest costume,” Will explained, trying to suppress the slight embarrassment he felt. It seemed immature now that he was saying it out loud. “Lou always cheats with the mist, though.”

“Ah,” said Nico, who didn’t sound like he thought it was immature. “I’ll do my best.”

He picked up the sponge, coated with paint, and reached forward, letting his hand hover about an inch away from Will’s face. The briefest, unreadable look flicked across his face, and Will was about to ask if something was wrong when Nico closed the distance.

“You might want to close your eyes,” he said, his voice surprising flat.

Will complied. They sat in comfortable silence for either a few seconds or a few minutes – Will really couldn’t tell – before his discomfort at the feeling of paint got too irritating.

“You should come,” he blurted out, partially out of desperation to start a conversation, and partially because he’d been wanting to ask all day. “Out with us, I mean. It’ll be fun.”

Nico didn’t respond for so long that Will cracked one of his eyes open to try and gauge his reaction. He was looking away, at the paint palette, focusing on covering one of the brushes with paint, so it was useless. Will was about to take the offer back out of panic when Nico turned towards him, and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut again. The brief image of the other boy, his face arranged in the mild, emotionless expression he was used to, stayed burned onto his eyelids.

“That’s okay,” Nico said, his tone careful. “I’d rather stay in.”

Will bit his tongue to stop himself insisting. If he would rather stay on his own, that was fine. He couldn’t force the other boy to spend time with him.

He could, however, enjoy this time he had now.

“No problem,” he said, keeping his own voice level. His mind flailed wildly for another topic of conversation. “How- uh- what-“ he paused to mentally collect himself. “So, you like Halloween, huh?”

It didn’t come out quite as smooth as he’d wanted, but Nico didn’t comment on that. “I, uh, don’t dislike it,” he said, his voice quiet with concentration. “I haven’t really celebrated it before, but-“

“You haven’t?” Will’s eyes flew open of their own accord. For a second, he was staring straight at Nico, and then the other boy averted his own gaze to the paint palette to unnecessarily recoat the brush. “Sorry,” said Will quickly, closing his eyes again. “I just- you haven’t?”

There was a beat. “No,” said Nico, his voice a little uncertain. “I don’t… I don’t think I did, I don’t remember it.”

Oh. Oh.

Will mentally cursed himself. Of course Nico wouldn’t remember celebrating Halloween. He didn’t even remembering celebrating his own birthday. And somehow, Will didn’t think the boy stopped for trick or treating while he was living homeless away from Camp.

“Sorry,” he said, guilt leaking into his voice. “Sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think-“

“It’s fine,” said Nico smoothly. “It’s not a- it’s fine. I don’t… think they celebrate Halloween in Italy anyway. At least… not until recently.”

They fell into silence again. This time, Will didn’t bother trying to talk again – he was clearly awful at it – and instead resigned himself to the silence. Also, to the tickling of the paintbrush on his face.

So he was more than surprise when Nico was the one to finally break it.

“I did kind of celebrate once in, um, boarding school,” he said awkwardly. Will stayed silent. “Not much, because, y’know, military school, but we were aloud to stay up a bit later and eat a lot of sweets, so… yeah.”

Will waited a few seconds to make sure Nico had actually stopped talking, and then a few more to make sure he didn’t sound like an idiot. He hadn’t actually know Nico had gone to a military school, but he decided not to address that. “The candy is the best part of Halloween,” he said, lightly. “Really, it’s the only good tradition.”

“I don’t think the costumes are that bad,” hummed Nico gently in response, and the corner of Will’s lips twitched up.

“I already told you, I’m awful at the costumes,” he reminded the other boy. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d be into them, either.” He tried to keep his tone light, praying it wouldn’t come off like an insult. The last thing Nico needed was to feel like he was being laughed at.

“I’m not that into them,” he amended, sounding a little embarrassed, but not like he thought he was being mocked. “I probably wouldn’t wear one, but I think they look fun.”

“They are fun,” he conceded. “I just suck at them, so it’s a lot of stress.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re trying to be too scary?” Offered Nico, humour tinging his voice, and the sound was almost nice enough for Will to miss his words.

“Are you saying I can’t look scary?” He asked, exaggerating his offence.

“I’m not- I’m just saying, you aren’t exactly a scary person-“

“I could be!”

“Sure.” Nico pressed two fingers to the other boys chin to tilt it up slightly to give him a better angle, and Will tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through his body at the contact. “I’m just saying, maybe you’d be better coming up with… well, not-scary costumes.”

“I cannot believe that you don’t think I could be scary,” said Will, trying to keep his humorous tone even. “My own friend.”

“I’m just saying-“

“This is disgraceful-“

“Gods,” Nico snorted, and Will suppressed the flutter that rose in his chest at the sound. “Maybe you did inherit your dad’s confidence-“

“How dare you?” Demanded Will, but his voice cracked in the middle, half a laugh escaping him.

Nico shushed him lightly. “I need you to stay still for this bit,” he said, still sounding amused.

“That’s cheating,” huffed Will. “This conversation isn’t over.”

He shut his mouth anyway, letting Nico do whatever he was doing. After a second, he cracked his eyes open slightly, peering through his lashes. The other boy had a look of concentration on his face, somewhat marred by the smile tugging at his mouth, nose crinkled up a little, his dark eyes staring intently at Will’s lips– at the paintbrush.

Will quickly closed his eyes again, trying to silently force his heart rate to slow down. He mentally scolded himself – nothing was going to happen with Nico until the other boy indicated in anyway that it could. There was no use getting flustered over nothing.

Still, when Nico announced that he was done, Will almost wished he could keep his eyes shut for longer. He opened them anyway, taking in the other boy, who’d moved back to a more comfortable distance and was watching him almost nervously.

“There’s a mirror in the bathroom,” he supplied, uncertainly. “For you to look at it.”

“Great,” said Will, surprised by his own sudden disappointment, and he pushed himself up and towards the bathroom. Nico followed a safe few paces behind.

Will nearly did a double take when he saw his own reflection. “Damn,” he blurted, which wasn’t quite as elegant as he would’ve liked, but it worked. The base coat was a pale, eerie green, with the structure of a skull brought out in different shades as a 3d form. Black and dark green had been added in certain places to create the appearance of hollows in it.

“It’ll, uh, probably look better in the dark,” said Nico, and it was definitely nervousness in his voice.

“Better?” repeated Will, surprised, and then he pulled the black hood of his robes up to complete the affect and turned towards him. “Holy Styx – this is amazing.”

Nico looked pleasantly surprised, but quickly and visibly schooled his features back into a more neutral look. “I mean, you wanted it to be creepy-“

“You’re good at creepy. Maybe you are more scary than me.”

“Was that ever in question?”

Will ignored him. “Where did you learn to do this?” He asked, curiosity leaking into his voice. “I didn’t expect you to like this kind of stuff.”

Nico shrugged, and Will was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the tinge of pink that hit his cheeks. “I, uh, used to do a lot of painting at school. I was never that good at it, but I was better at that than the other subjects, because…” He trailed off, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was just more fun than difficult. But I could paint some stuff, especially on skin. It wasn’t too hard.”

“You could paint well.” Will got the feeling that they were entering more dangerous territory, so he shifted it slightly. “The design-“

“It’s from a Mythomagic card,” Nico admitted immediately. “I figured it was suitably scary.”

“It is.” Will grinned at him, and after a second, Nico returned the gesture. It looked almost painful coming from him, but Will took it. “You know, you could come,” he said, wistfully thinking back to their first conversation. He was pretty sure of what response he’d get, but it was worth a try. “The invitation still exists.”

“I think I’d rather stay in tonight,” said Nico, gently. “But… thanks.”

“Alright.” Will knew not to push dead conversations. Sometimes. “In that case, I should-“

“Yeah- yeah, of course.”

Part of Will wanted to say or do more, but Nico had moved out of his way and he couldn’t think of anything on the spot, so instead he just smiled and made his way to the door. He hesitated half way across the door.

“Nico-“ he paused as the other boy looked over at him. “Thank you.”

Nico shrugged. “Don’t think about it,” he said dismissively, waving it off. “It’s no problem.”

Will got the feeling he was going to be thinking about it for way too long, but he didn’t say that.

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo fanfiction #days and nights #pjo #hoo #toa #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #trials of apollo #mine #my works

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mdelpin · 4 years

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The Red Dragon - Chapter 24

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch23

It had been weeks since Gray had seen any hint of Fukou. The first few days after their confrontation the dragon would still fly over the village on the way to the mountain and perform aerials for the kids when they cheered for him, but Gray could tell these were lackluster at best, and a strange feeling of sadness would come over him as he saw this.

He had enjoyed watching the dragon dance in the air, and he was fairly certain the change in Fukou’s behavior was his fault. He had been unnecessarily cruel to a creature that had done nothing but protect him and the village on multiple occasions, and he felt a small level of shame for his actions, although not enough to seek Fukou out and apologize.

The idea that dragons were capable of being hurt by something as simple as words was something Gray had trouble accepting. His natural stubbornness still determined to question everything he'd learned about dragons from Wendy and the other slayers and even what he had seen through Happy’s actions.

Lyon had told him a long time ago that maybe he needed to limit his hatred to the one dragon who deserved it, and Gray was grudgingly beginning to understand that his brother might have been on to something. The hatred he held on to continued to cause him nothing but trouble, creating a wedge between him and his mate and causing him to lash out at innocent creatures.

But it wasn’t a switch he could easily turn off. Deep down, Gray knew that the only way he could truly overcome his hatred of dragons was to deal with the underlying trauma of what had happened to him, and he wasn’t sure he could do that yet.

Life in the village slowly went back to normal, their surroundings soon turning gloomy as the only speck of color to be seen for miles came from the evergreen trees that grew in the forest near the base of the mountain. The villagers busied themselves with preparations for the snow that would signal the beginning of the winter months.

Occasionally they would catch sight of a red dragon flying towards the mountain, but this one was smaller, making Gray think it might be Happy. Fukou was nowhere to be seen, and Gray was able to put him out of his mind for a while.

He’d begun taking a lot of solo jobs, determined to help Lyon pay for the new house he would move into with Erza, as well as help him furnish it. He was fully aware that part of the reason for doing so was his need to live vicariously through his brother, who was getting ready to embark on the life that Gray desperately wanted to live with Natsu. Either way, he was running himself ragged between those jobs and keeping up with his regular guard schedule.

Which is how he suddenly found himself faced by a group of bandits determined to separate him from his hard-earned jewels. At first, Gray wasn’t overly concerned, he was a powerful mage after all, but he soon realized he’d used up most of his magic fighting off that chimera that had been terrorizing Aster, a larger town a few days walk from Talos. He’d have to rely on his fighting skills to get out of this one.

Gray called on just enough magic to mold his Cold Excalibur and immediately went on the offensive, not wanting to give his attackers a chance to surround him. He fought hard for what felt like forever was probably no more than ten minutes.

Slashing in all directions, he attempted to keep a healthy distance between himself and his attackers, but his efforts weren’t enough. No matter how many bandits he managed to incapacitate they were immediately replaced by others. And as he felt himself losing more blood from the stabs that he hadn’t been able to defend against, Gray worried he might not be able to get out of this one.

He cried out in pain as he felt another blade pierce his back, his fingers coming away coated in blood as he once again tried but failed to ice his wounds. His legs gave out from under him, and all he could think was what a stupid way this was to die, alone in some random field. Lyon and Natsu would never forgive him.

His thoughts remained with Natsu, calling to him, telling him how much he loved him and how sorry he was, utterly oblivious to the sound of loud roars behind him or the screams of panic from his attackers or even the fact that the field he was on had somehow burst into flames.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” A voice yelled, surprising Gray with the fury behind it. He turned his head slowly, coming face to face with an enraged Fukou. “When are you going to stop being so reckless?! I’m not always going to be around to save your ass.”

Gray blinked slowly, having a hard time understanding what was happening.

Fukou appeared frantic, eyeing the flames that were getting ever closer. “Climb on!”

“What?”

“Climb on! We have to get out of here, this is my fire, I can’t eat it.”

“No,” Gray protested weakly but with no less determination.

“We don’t have time for your bullshit,” Fukou shrieked, and when Gray refused to move, he launched himself into the air, quickly diving to grab Gray in his talons before flying them away from the blazing inferno.

“Let go!” Gray yelled, thrashing as the harsh wind acted against his wounds, “You’re hurting me!”

That seemed to get Fukou’s attention, and Gray could hear him cursing loudly, the sound of it amusing him slightly.

“If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, you could be riding on my back, where I could protect you from the wind.”

Gray screamed in agony, the pain too much for him to handle. He could feel them losing altitude, the ground looming ever nearer until he felt Fukou land using only his rear legs, his muscles tensing as he tried to keep his balance. He released Gray, gently placing him on a soft grassy area.

Gray took a moment to look at the dragon who had once again come to his aid. He was shocked to see the amount of anger still present in the creature’s eyes, although he was taking deep breaths, almost as if trying to calm himself down.

His eyes shone a beautiful shade of emerald green, and his talons glowed with a red light that sent warning signals to Gray’s brain.

“What, uhm, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to heal your sorry ass. Again,” Fukou groused, “Do you have a death wish or something? What would you have done if I hadn’t happened by?”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Gray crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, for the moment ignoring the pain the simple movement caused him, as he scowled at the implication that he was always in need of rescue.

“Whatever you say, Princess, all I know is if you keep this up, I’m going to have to learn new healing spells.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Gray screamed in agony as his wounds were healed, Fukou making no effort to be considerate.

“Ow, damn it! Can’t you be gentler?”

“I could, but I want you to remember the pain,” Fukou declared with a self-satisfied smirk, “ then maybe you’ll be more cautious in the future. I always wondered why Atlas did that, now I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Gray let the words swim in his brain as the pain began to subside, the warmth of Fukou’s healing magic still managing to soothe him despite the dragon’s attempt to teach him a lesson. He felt his wounds closing up before hearing one single last word. “Sleep.”

0-0

Gray woke to find he had been moved to another location. He seemed to be inside a cave but could tell right away by its size that it wasn’t the red dragon’s cave near Talos. Sitting up slowly and noticing his wounds had all but disappeared, he searched the cave, looking for the dragon that had saved him, finally finding him sitting outside the entrance of the cave looking up at the stars.

Fukou turned his head to look at him. Where before he had seemed furious, his expression was now too complex for Gray to read.

“I trust you are feeling better?”

“Yes, uh, thank you.” Gray sat near the dragon, leaving a healthy amount of space between them, feeling self-conscious as the words he had said to the dragon the last time they had met replayed in his mind.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Gray struggling with the words he knew needed to be said. He coughed uncomfortably, “I, uh, I wanted to say I was sorry about before.”

“The struggling?” Fukou asked, the small grin that tugged at his snout, making his fangs appear sharper, “I should have expected that.”

“No, uhm, back when I named you, I was an ass, I didn’t mean it. So you know if I, uhm, hurt your feelings or anything, I’m sorry.”

The dragon shook his head before looking back up at the stars, “No need to apologize, Gray Fullbuster, it is a most fitting name. Sorrow and misfortune are indeed all I have ever wrought.”

Gray winced, realizing just how deeply his words had hurt the creature. He quickly changed the subject. “Where are we?”

“I didn’t think it wise to return to Talos straight away, those men could have decided to follow us. Now that you are awake, we can use the cover of night to return.”

There was something that was confusing him, and Gray figured he had nothing to lose by asking, “Why didn’t you just kill them?”

Fukou continued to stare at the stars, making Gray think he hadn’t heard him until he finally replied, “I don’t enjoy killing.”

Gray lowered his head, pondering Fukou’s response with some skepticism but growing admittedly more curious about the creature, “Is that why you have so many scars?”

Fukou chuckled, “No, I was actually trying to kill that one, he just bested me.”

A laugh escaped Gray at the unexpected response, which he soon tried to hide behind a cough, but Fukou’s eyes twinkled regardless.

“Where have you been? It’s been months since I last saw you.”

“Why? Did you miss me?” Fukou teased, laughing at the dismay in Gray’s face at his retort.

Before Gray had a chance to deny his words, Fukou explained his absence, “The Dragon King required my assistance. I was returning home when I smelled your blood and went to investigate.”

“I don’t understand you. Why bother with saving me at all?”

Fukou studied him fixedly before shrugging his massive wings, “Perhaps I seek to change your mind of the notion that dragons are heartless.”

Gray’s lips tightened into a hard line, not willing to concede on that point yet. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer, surely there had to be more to it. Why would Fukou care about what he thought?

“We should get going, we’re still a long ways away from Talos.”

Gray watched as Fukou lowered himself and stared at him expectantly.

“Oh, hell, no!”

“Surely, you’re not expecting us to walk there? It would take days. I could always cast that sleep spell on you again...”

“No! Fine, I’ll do it, just don’t drop me.”

“You know, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered healing you first.”

“I’d feel more comforted if you weren’t grinning at me like some sort of psychotic overgrown lizard,” Gray complained, the sound of Fukou’s unabashed laughter irritating him in ways he hadn’t felt in a while.

Fukou attempted to explain how to get on his back, but Gray ignored him in favor of using his ice to lift him up to the desired height. He crawled across the dragon’s massive back and towards its long neck, searching for a spot where he could sit and hold on properly.

He was amazed to find the dragon’s scaly skin did not feel as rough as it looked. Gray ran his hands over it, curious about the texture, which was akin to the feeling of wet sand between his fingers. A pleased rumbling sound from the dragon beneath him startled Gray from his unintentional petting. He stopped his hand midstroke, but then remembering how the dragon had saved him despite his harsh words, he rewarded Fukou with a few strokes to his neck before holding on for the trip ahead.

Gray was terrified, although if he was honest with himself, a little excited as well. He’d never considered the idea of flying. He held on to the excitement, frantically trying to distance himself from how he was achieving it.

The dragon took off without any warning, his wings spreading majestically and flying them ever higher. Gray let out a startled squeak, much to his embarrassment, before clutching Fukou’s neck tightly as they fought air currents until reaching a smooth patch.

They flew by the light of the moon, man and dragon choosing to remain silent, although they would have been able to converse had they wanted to. Gray felt overwhelmed, not just by the fact that he was riding a dragon, but that he had somewhat willingly chosen to do so.

He couldn’t say he regretted it though, the feel of the wind caressing his skin and hair was exhilarating, to say the least, as was knowing that he was one of the few humans to ever experience such a thing. The last time he had felt this alive was during the previous summer solstice when he and Natsu had made love for the first time.

Fukou’s body exuded constant warmth keeping Gray comfortable despite the cold air around them. Slowly, a sense of peace settled over him as he found himself up among the stars, and he relaxed, loosening his grip on Fukou’s neck. He could hear the dragon chuckling softly, although he didn’t comment.

They landed right outside the town walls, Fukou waiting patiently for Gray to climb down. The journey had ended much too soon for Gray’s liking, and he found himself disappointed that it had been too dark for him to really see much.

He was about to say thank you, only to discover Fukou had already left.

0-0

Once Lyon had gotten over Gray almost dying on one of his jobs, he listened raptly to the story of his rescue. He had taken to teasing Gray that while most people had a guardian angel, he seemed to have a guardian dragon. The irony of the situation amused Lyon greatly.

Regardless of which, he immediately forbid Gray from taking any more solo jobs at least until after the wedding, ignoring all of Gray’s protests to the contrary. It was frustrating, but he could see his brother’s point, so he tried to fill his free time with additional training, still embarrassed by how easily he had been beaten.

With no means of escaping the village, Gray found himself thinking about Fukou often, it was hard for him to understand that a dragon would take it upon himself to try to change his mind. Why? What was it about Gray that compelled the red dragon to act this way? To rescue him when by all logic, he should have just let him die. Was he just amusing to him?

Regardless of his hatred for dragons, Gray was well aware that he wasn’t a particular threat to them. His attacks on Atlas hadn’t even gotten within ten yards of the hellfire dragon. Heck, he hadn’t even been able to really injure Happy when he was a baby, that had been Sting with his dragon slayer magic.

So what could Fukou possibly gain by changing his mind? Was he just drawn to the sadness that lived within Gray, did he maybe feel the same? Could he just be looking for a friend? Did dragons even have friends? It was frustrating not to know, but he had a feeling if he asked Fukou, the dragon wouldn’t give him an answer.

It was funny, in some ways the dragon reminded him of Natsu. His recklessness, sense of humor, and the playfulness he’d exhibited with those kids had made Gray wonder if his mate had acquired those traits from the dragons that had raised him. None of that, however, managed to explain the odd feeling of peace he felt around the dragon sometimes.

It was a beautiful winter night in late January when Gray decided to go for a walk. Snow fell all around him, keeping everyone but the most enthusiastic inside. Ever since acquiring his ice magic Gray had enjoyed going out in winter weather, and Lyon would usually be right there with him, but he had been busy with wedding stuff, and Gray hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Besides, it was best if he got used to the idea that he would be alone soon. Lyon would be moving out after the wedding, and although they would still see each other at work, their relationship was bound to change. Lyon belonged to Erza now, and soon they would start a family of their own. It was the natural order of things.

His walk took him towards the field, fond memories of snowball fights with Ur and Lyon keeping him warm. These were soon replaced by more recent ones with Erza and the dragon slayers. It was perhaps the only activity where he and Lyon could best the others, and they both enjoyed it immensely. More often than not, Natsu would get overexcited, his body heating up more than usual and melting all the snow around him as Gray took the opportunity to mock him mercilessly. He chuckled, remembering Natsu’s pout as Wendy rushed to console him as usual.

The memories were too close tonight. On a whim, Gray kept walking, reaching the mountain path and following it up, past the red dragon’s cave, all the way to the top of the mountain, hoping exhaustion would settle in and give him one night of peaceful rest, away from the dreams that often haunted him.

It was there he found Fukou, once again looking up at the sky, even though the stars were hidden behind storm clouds. He nodded at Gray briefly in recognition but otherwise remained silent.

“What is it with you and the stars? You can’t even see them tonight.”

Fukou tilted his head to the side, considering Gray’s words for a long while before answering, “It doesn't matter whether I can see them or not, they are still there, shining down on us.”

Gray examined the dragon, noticing some new scars that hadn’t been there before, making him wonder what he’d been up to, “Where do you go?”

“Hmm?” Fukou peered at him in confusion.

“When you disappear for long periods, where is it you go? Is it dangerous?”

“I go check on the other dragons, make sure they’re okay.”

‘Why wouldn’t they be? Isn’t the war over?”

“Dragons are still being hunted,” Fukou explained.

“By the renegades Natsu talked about?”

“Not tonight," Fukou replied, refusing to answer Gray's question. "The ghosts are too close,” his only explanation.

Fukou looked back up to the sky and spoke not another word, leaving Gray to sit in silence beside him.

When he woke up in front of the town gates the following morning, he couldn’t remember climbing down the mountain, and he wondered whether Fukou had flown him down. Either way, he had slept fitfully for the first time in a long while.

That night began an odd routine.

On days when he couldn’t sleep, Gray would make his way up the mountain, searching out the company of the quiet dragon. Fukou wasn’t always there, and even when he was, there were nights when not a single word passed between them. On these nights, Gray could sense a deep sadness come over the dragon. It was one of the reasons he continued to come, he too felt similar grief, but somehow sitting together on that mountain, it was alright.

0-0

Gray noticed Happy flying over the village once again and instinctively knew Fukou had left on another one of his trips. Shrugging away the gloom he felt, he explained it away, telling himself he was only bothered by how the dragon's absence would affect his sleep. Still, he kept an eye on the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dragon’s return.

When it came, it was unexpected. Gray had been dreaming of Natsu when he woke with a strange pain in his heart. After making sure it wasn’t anything to worry about, he sat up, shrugging on some clothes and hurrying outside, worried the pain might have something to do with Natsu.

It was then he heard a loud disconsolate wail in the distance. It didn’t sound at all human, and his thoughts immediately went to Fukou. Gray set off at a fast run, arriving at the base of the mountain in record time. The hopelessness of that sound set him on edge, and he trudged on, not sure what he would find when he reached its source.

The sound led him to the path he'd followed the first time he’d found Fukou. Gray followed it, stumbling in the dark as he attempted to navigate its unknown twists and turns.

The sight that awaited him was one he hadn’t expected. Not only was Fukou the one making that awful sound, but he was covered in blood. His markedly different appearance made Gray wary of approaching him.

It didn’t seem like the dragon was aware of his presence, so he sat on the same rock he had used that first time and waited, trying to swallow the fear he felt. When Fukou finally settled down, Gray approached him slowly, making as much noise as he could. The last thing he wanted was to startle the dragon when it was acting this strangely.

Fukou finally looked in his direction, his entire body tensing, prompting Gray to put his hands up in front of him in a calming gesture.

“What happened?”

“It’s Happy,” Fukou’s face had streaks from where his tears had briefly landed on his skin before evaporating.

“Is— is he okay?” Gray asked anxiously. Happy was a complex topic for him, but he would never forget everything he had done for Natsu, not to mention his mate would be devastated if something happened to the dragon he had adopted as part of his family.

Fukou shook his head, a whimper rising up his throat. Gray didn’t know what to do, he had no idea how to comfort a dragon. Instead, he decided to bring Fukou’s attention to his injuries.

“You’re hurt, shouldn’t you heal yourself?” Gray kept his voice as gentle as he could, although every instinct he possessed was telling him this was a mistake, and he should get his ass back home.

“It’s Happy’s blood,” Fukou explained, seemingly oblivious to the blood that was gushing from an open wound on his chest.

“Look again,” Gray prodded, trying to keep himself calm, “You’re bleeding.”

Fukou looked down absently before Gray saw the familiar red glow of his healing magic.

“What happened?”

“Happy and I were attacked by renegades,” the words flowed out slowly, the dragon still mostly in a daze as he recounted the events, “ I managed to kill one, but the other went to get reinforcements. I— I tried to heal him, but I could smell more of them coming, so I grabbed him and flew him back to Atlas. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

At this, the whimpering began again, but Gray’s blood had started to boil. Fukou had just admitted to killing a human.

“You killed a human?” Gray’s voice was stiff as he threw the dragon’s words back at him, “ I thought you said you didn’t like killing.”

“I don’t,” Fukou appeared confused by Gray’s sudden change in attitude, “I had to, they were going to kill Happy.”

“You had to?” Gray mocked, ignoring the hurt on the dragon’s face as he yelled. “You outweigh them by hundreds of pounds, and you have an arsenal of fire magic at your disposal.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fukou snarled, Gray’s words inciting his fury, “These humans possess magic that can kill us. What was I supposed to have done? Should I have let them kill Happy on some sort of moral principle? Let them kill me? Are we not allowed to defend ourselves?”

Gray had no answer to that, but he couldn’t just approve of Fukou’s actions either. His head throbbed as his childhood self argued unyieldingly against Fukou’s words.

“And you call me heartless?” Fukou laughed mirthlessly at Gray’s silence, before peering down at him with an expression more serious than Gray had ever seen from him before, “I wonder if your answer would remain the same if it was Dragneel in there fighting for his life.”

Gray couldn’t meet the dragon’s glare, knowing damn well if Natsu had been involved, he wouldn’t have cared who died as long as his mate could return to him safely. It was selfish but no less accurate, and the realization made him feel sick to his stomach.

‘You are such a hypocrite,” Fukou spat, his words all the more scathing because they were true.

“You think the war is over, but the truth is that for some of us, it never ended. We’re hunted down for no other motive than greed.” The air around Gray sizzled in response to Fukou’s fury, and still, Gray couldn’t say anything, held captive as he was by the righteousness of Fukou’s words.

“The human renegades seek to bathe in our blood in an attempt to sate their neverending thirst for power. Until they are destroyed, no dragon will ever be safe. So yes, I will kill every single one of them if that is what it takes to keep all dragons safe. If they come after me and mine...I will show no mercy.”

Most of these were done by people...

Gray recalled Natsu’s words and suddenly understood the meaning hidden behind them. Natsu was off fighting these renegades, protecting the dragons he loved so much. As much as it stung that his mate had chosen to continue fighting for the dragons rather than return home to him, Gray sought to be understanding. Natsu had always done what he felt was right. And if his dragons, no, his family, were in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight for their safety, no matter what the personal cost.

He wished Natsu would have trusted him enough to ask for his help, it was laughable to think he would ever do so, given what he knew of Gray’s feelings. And once again, he had no one to blame but himself for that outcome.

Gray sank to the ground holding his head in his hands; the shooting pain made all the worse by the suffocating heat. How he wished he could live in that world of gray areas that both Natsu and Fukou traversed so effortlessly.

It must be nice to be able to face a visible enemy, but how were you supposed to defeat your demons when they all lived inside you? His hatred had been imprinted on him at such a young age that he couldn’t seem to fight his way out of it, and he had been trying to fight it. Natsu, the other dragon slayers, and even Happy had begun the process, but it had been Fukou that had forced him to see dragons differently. It just wasn’t enough to surpass over a decade of hatred.

“I know a dragon brought you much pain, Gray. I do not deny it,” Fukou addressed him, surprising Gray by using his first name. The dragon’s voice was calmer than before, although he could still hear faint traces of anger intermingling in words.

”What Deliora did to your village and your loved ones is unforgivable, but your misguided hate will not bring your loved ones back. It has only caused you to hold on to the pain you should have put to rest years ago.”

“Dragons have played a bigger role in your life than you are ready to admit. Not only have they protected the village you claimed as your new home from harm, but they saved your life many times. They raised your mate to be the man you seem to think so highly of. So the way I see it, you have two choices. You either have to accept that not all dragons are evil, just as not all people are and open your heart to those who would call you friend,” Fukou paused, giving him time to absorb his words.

“Or you can continue to live with the hatred that is destroying everything you hold dear. I have done all I can to show you who we are, but I can’t force you to change your mind, only you can do that.”

Gray nodded slowly, accepting the truth in his words but still not daring to look at Fukou, afraid of the judgment he might see in his eyes. He remained in his uncomfortable position long after Fukou had entered the cave to check on Happy.

He didn’t remember walking home but knew this time he had managed it on his own.

0-0

Gray’s mind remained in a constant jumble, Fukou’s words continued to wage war against his inner self. Some days it seemed like he had made some headway only to revert back at the memory of the destruction of his village and the pain and fear he’d felt during his parent’s last moments. His mind berated him for betraying their memory in what amounted to a fit of weakness.

He was stuck, and he hated it. Thankfully Lyon’s wedding was coming up quickly, and that kept him incredibly busy. Last-minute preparations took up a lot of his time. Then there was Erza, who had chosen him to take command of her post while she and Lyon went on their honeymoon for a few weeks. Her intense training regimen to prepare him for the challenge ate up the rest of his free time.

Before he knew it, April showers had given way to May flowers. He hadn’t seen Fukou since his last trek up the mountain, assuming he would probably no longer be welcome. It seemed Gray was only good at one thing, and that was pushing others away, and the loneliness felt at the dragons’ absence from his life was something he couldn’t deny.

Life moved on regardless of his discontent. Lyon and Erza had their wedding and left for their honeymoon soon after. For a brief moment, Gray was able to experience genuine happiness, even if it was for someone else.

Erza seemed almost disappointed to discover the town hadn’t self-destructed in her absence, but she gave him glowing praise for his efforts. Her expression growing concerned when that barely got a smile in response.

Gray helped Lyon move his things to his new house, listening to him chatter happily about his trip, and snickering as Erza ordered his brother around with her very definite ideas of where things belonged in their new space.

Gray had missed them greatly, especially the relief they provided from his thoughts. But after several weeks of doing Erza’s job, dealing with all of the issues that came up daily, not to mention all the people that demanded his attention, he had both an even bigger admiration for Erza and a desperate need to to get away.

Preparations for the villages’s Red Dragon Festival, which was scheduled to take place during the Summer Solstice, had already begun, and that was yet another thing that Gray wanted to leave behind. The festival was a constant reminder of both Fukou and Natsu and he was so tired of worrying and obsessing over both.

He’d already picked out a job during his brief stint as Acting Captain. It was only two days' travel, and it would keep him away for three days at most. Erza signed off on it without complaint, offering him an understanding smile and bidding him to be careful.

He walked away from Talos, through their field, and towards the nearest road, briefly looking back at the mountain he had come to know so well. A hint of sadness threatened his good mood as he thought of what he had lost through his own stubbornness.

He cast the thought aside, attempting to focus on the refreshing warmth of the mid-June sunshine on his skin as he got further away from his home. Gray focused on the beauty of the surrounding landscape, entranced by the wildflowers that adorned both sides of the road with every color imaginable.

He stopped to pick a flower that reminded him of the ridiculous color of Natsu’s hair, twirling it between his fingers with a smile. It filled him with longing for the things he had once taken for granted. He’d love nothing more than to spend a lazy afternoon sitting among those flowers, just threading his fingers through Natsu’s soft hair and listening to him talk for hours, green eyes sparkling with excitement, hands flying every which way.

Gray tried to imagine them sitting just like that, hoping to get some pleasure from it, stunned to discover all he felt was a resentful rage.

Why couldn’t they have that? Why couldn’t Natsu just pick him for once, and how much longer would he be forced to wait for his return? For the life that Natsu had promised him when he’d said they would spend the rest of their lives together.

He might be Natsu’s mate, but time and time again, Natsu had shown him the dragons would always come first. Even above the bond that marked them as soulmates. What was left for him then? All the time spent worrying and making excuses for him, what was it all for?

Gray realized then that if he didn’t get some answers soon, he might just be done with all of this. He had to look no further than his brother to understand that the words he had fought against for so long were valid. Even Juvia had moved on from her obsession with him to find love with someone else. He thought of Anna who was in a similar position as him, waiting for her love to return to her, but at least she had the orphanage to keep her busy.

He had made it so that without Natsu, he was nothing, and that was his own fault.

Gray had been letting his life pass him by, on the hope that the man he loved would return to him, and as much as it hurt to even think about moving on from the only thing he’d ever wanted, perhaps it was time for him to want something else.

His thoughts remained gloomy for the rest of his journey. The sun’s warmth, which had been such a comfort earlier became a reminder of the heat that he was well on his way to convincing himself he’d never have again.

He’d just arrived at the outskirts of the town of Calluna when he first noticed a distant blur flying towards him. Its brilliant scarlet scales identified it as a red dragon, even from far away, and Gray stopped to examine it, part of him hoping it might be Fukou.

The dragon was flying lower than what Gray would have considered wise, not seeming to be paying any attention to its surroundings, almost drifting along rather than navigating. Gray continued walking, figuring he’d get a better look the closer he got to his destination.

When he was about a quarter of a mile from the town, he began to hear panicked screams, which soon had him examining his surroundings, seeking to determine what might be causing their alarm. Peeking back up at the sky, he noticed the dragon was closer now, enough for him to be able to recognize that it was indeed Fukou, his scars immediately giving away his identity.

He was so used to the dragon that it took him a full minute to understand that Fukou was the cause of the commotion, a fact the dragon also seemed oblivious to. Gray’s heart raced painfully when he saw the first bolt sail through the air, missing its target by mere inches. Even then, Fukou did not alter his trajectory.

Gray's sharp eyes sought out the source of the bolt until he discovered a pair of ballistas, manned by a group of very excited soldiers who were already reloading the weapons with more oversized arrows.

“FUKOU!” Gray yelled as loudly as he could manage, trying to warn the dragon and hoping a familiar voice might rouse him from whatever trance he seemed to be under.

Fukou startled, his head darting from side to side in search of the owner of the voice. It was at that moment that two of the bolts hit their mark, tearing through the membranes at two different points of one of Fukou’s enormous wings. The dragon cried out, flailing his wings in an attempt to remain airborne, but it was a losing battle. The air currents had grabbed hold of the tears, ripping them further until they had merged into one large hole, the flap of loose membrane waving in the wind. Not being able to control his descent, Fukou fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Soldiers ran out Calluna's gates armed with arbalests, a smaller version of the ballista that had already caused the dragon so much damage.

Fukou struggled with his torn wing, still striving to get back in the air. Gray watched and waited, resigned to the attack he assumed would soon follow as the men surrounded the dragon. He wouldn’t enjoy what was to come, but after giving thought to the words Fukou had yelled at him in his rage Gray had come to the conclusion that the dragon had every right to defend himself from an unprovoked attack.

However, instead of using his fire magic, the dragon simply growled and whipped his long tail about, trying to intimidate his attackers into leaving him alone.

Gray couldn’t understand why the dragon wasn’t fighting back, it should have been easy for him to overpower them with his magic. He continued to watch from where he stood, not knowing what to do until he heard Fukou whine as his abdomen, one of the few areas of the dragon’s body not covered in scales, was pierced by a bolt from one of the arbalests.

That whine traveled straight through to Gray’s heart and lured him into action. He couldn’t just wait for the dragon to save himself, not when Fukou had come to his rescue so many times. Fukou was in trouble, and it was time for Gray to repay his debt.

Gray ignored the protest inside his own mind, having seen enough of the situation to be disgusted by the soldiers’ actions. He grabbed an item from his travel bag, shoving it into his pants pocket before dropping the bag and running towards the dragon.

“STOP!” Gray yelled at the top of his lungs, swiftly closing the distance between them. The men stared at him briefly but went right back to jabbing at Fukou. Gray settled into his molding stance as soon as he thought he was close enough for his magic to be effective.

Determining they seemed to enjoy arrows, Gray decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. He called out his first spell, “Ice-Make: Arrows.”

A large bow materialized in his arms, and he used it to send arrow after arrow at Fukou’s attackers. He watched with a satisfied grin as his ice arrows raced towards his targets, wounding several of the soldiers before they even realized what was happening and causing chaos within their ranks.

Gray was already running again, moving his position to further disorient them. He placed his fist in front of his palm, summoning his magic once again. This time allowing his anger to fuel his spell.

“Ice-Make: Freeze Lancer”

As the lances hit their marks, Gray made his move, creating a path of ice that would lead him straight towards Fukou and slip up any soldier that got in his way. He quickly molded blades to his shoes, which provided him an additional speed boost. Once he reached the dragon, he gathered all of his magic, imagining the end result he wanted before calling out his final spell.

“Ice-Make: Dome”

Ice rose out of his hands at high speed, expanding and curving until it began to surround them on all sides. Fukou, catching on to his plan, soon hunched down so Gray wouldn’t have to expend as much magic.

Although the dome he'd created was smooth on the inside, Gray had designed it with thick spikes on the outside to buy them more time. As soon as they were entirely surrounded by ice Gray ran over to Fukou, climbing over him to get a good look at his wing injury.

Fukou’s eye’s followed his every move even though he remained silent. Gray couldn’t tell whether the dragon was still angry from their previous confrontation or just embarrassed to be rescued by him. He decided to try to lighten the uncomfortable moment.

“Who’s the princess now, huh?” Gray snorted when he saw the outrage in Fukou’s eyes at his remark.

“Seriously though, why weren’t you fighting back? You could have taken those guys easily.”

Fukou’s voice came out in pants, eyes hooded with pain, “They didn’t have any magic, it wouldn’t have been right for me to retaliate. Besides,” he shrugged before hissing at the pull on his injured wing, “I’ve had worse injuries.”

Gray gawked at the dragon, surprised by its admission.

“I don’t see why you’re looking at me like that, “ Fukou groused, “I’ve told you several times I don’t enjoy killing.”

Gray wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he kept his head down and his mouth shut, testing his ice and noticing that it was already beginning to melt. Fukou’s body temperature and the late spring sun were working against it steadily, not to mention the soldiers who seemed to be aiming their bolts at the spikes. Gray continued to feed more magic to his ice, strengthening the structure wherever he could.

“Well, be that as it may, you better hurry up and heal yourself. Your body heat is working against my ice, we won’t have much time to get out of here.”

“I uhm, can’t really do that, healing requires a lot more magic than I have available at the moment.” Fukou managed to look sheepish even though they were now both in danger.

“I had a feeling you might say something like that,” Gray muttered, grudgingly taking the item he had grabbed out of his travel bag and looking at it with dread. “I can’t do anything about the bolt with what I have on hand, but If I stitch up your wing, you think you can fly us out of here?”

Fukou ignored the question, eyes widening in dread as he saw the needle Gray was holding, and for a moment, it looked as though he wanted to scurry away.

Gray chuckled nervously, “Don’t be such a baby, I’ve had to do this for Natsu a couple of times, I know what I’m doing.”

Fukou appeared skeptical, engaging in some sort of exaggerated deep breathing that made Gray want to thwap him on the head. “Oy, stop that! I haven’t even started yet,” Gray scolded.

“Now, do you think you can make a small flame to sterilize the needle?”

Gray placed the curved needle in a small metal tray near the dragon while he grabbed the catgut. When he looked back, the tip of the needle was already glowing, and it was his turn to take an exaggerated breath as he tried to convince himself that this was no different than patching up his boyfriend.

He threaded the needle and moved over to the injured wing, trying to determine the best way to patch it up. He positioned the flap carefully in place and began to painstakingly stitch it back together.

“Ow, couldn’t you be a little bit gentler? That hurts!” Fukou whined.

Gray smirked, remembering the dragon’s words to him and repeating them, “I could, but I want you to remember the pain, then maybe next time you’d look where you were flying.”

Fukou sulked but otherwise refrained from complaining any further.

Gray felt drops of moisture land on his head and hurried, knowing he couldn’t bolster his ice and tend to Fukou at the same time. He set the last stitch and looked at his handiwork, biting his lip in frustration as he realized it had been pointless. There was no way Fukou would be able to fly them out of there, there were too many open spaces in between his clumsy stitches, the wind would just tear it apart again.

“Alright, can you run? Flying is a nogo,” Gray rubbed the back of his neck, seeking to come up with another plan as they both stared at the bolt that was sticking out of the dragon’s abdomen.

“I won’t be able to get very far with this stuck in me,” Fukou responded, “We’re going to have to get it out somehow.”

“I could try to pull it out?” Gray offered, desperately hoping the dragon would disagree.

“I’m going to need you to do that,” Fukou whispered before closing his eyes in preparation. “As soon as you get it out, I’ll cauterize the wound.” The temperature in the dome rose quickly as Fukou readied himself.

Gray gazed nervously at the long wooden shaft protruding out of Fukou’s body before wrapping his hands around it and tugging gently to get a feel for the force needed. Fukou cursed loudly just at that. Gray gulped, already feeling sick to his stomach. “I—I can’t do this.”

“You’re doing fine, one hard tug ought to do it,” Fukou encouraged, making Gray feel even worse.

He took one deep breath before freezing his hands to the wood of the shaft. Pulling with all his might, he tried very hard not to think about what he was doing, which left him wholly unprepared for the sudden release of the bolt, a problem which was further amplified by the startling sound of Fukou’s cry. Gray found himself on the floor still holding on to the bolt. He dispelled his ice quickly, not wanting to be connected to it any longer than he had to. He scrambled to his feet, refusing to look at the clumps of tissue that were attached to the bolt’s head.

The ice continued to melt at an even faster rate as the air around them heated up from Fukou’s efforts to cauterize the gaping wound the steelhead had left behind. Not quite able to speak yet, he gestured for Gray to climb on, and this time, he did not protest.

Fukou took off at a run, moving swiftly but unsteadily on his rear legs as he did his best to balance both their weights on his tail, all while keeping his wings close to his body to prevent them from being damaged by the wind. Gray could tell the dragon’s injuries were taking a lot out of him. The soldiers followed after them for several miles, but as their bolts were no match for the dragon’s speed, they eventually gave up.

When they were but specks in the distance, Gray announced, “I think you can stop now, it looks like they’ve given up.”

They had reached one of the wildflower fields Gray recognized from his walk, putting them about a day’s walk from Talos. Fukou stopped right where they were, his legs crumpling underneath him, breath coming in ragged pants. Gray climbed down quickly, peering at the dragon with concern.

“I think I’m just going to close my eyes for a second,” Fukou muttered, immediately falling asleep and serenading Gray with his deep snores.

Gray almost laughed at the irony of his predicament. Instead of spending a lazy afternoon with his mate as he'd fantasized, he was stuck babysitting an injured dragon.

At least this makes us even now, Gray thought, before falling asleep next to Fukou, not noticing when the dragon wrapped his uninjured wing around him like a blanket, almost as if by instinct.

A/N: This was a rough one but I hope you like it. I ended up enjoying the writing of it more than I thought I would. I want to thank @oryu404 and @xhorhasian-aki for their advice and encouragement through some of the harder parts of this chapter. Thanks guys, you're amazing! There should be another update next week! Enjoy.

@ao3feed-gratsu

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #update #fairy tail big bang 2018

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