#I just inhaled sharply three successive times in a row

[buckyhoney-library]

worst behavior, b.b

A/N: Surprise, i released it earlier than expected! I just- i hope you enjoy, bc this is probably the filthiest thing i've written- i also changed the plot a little bit!

Request: hiiii could i request a one-shot where professor!bucky sees you eyeing his metal arm bc he pushed his sleeves up one hot day and proceeds to keep you after class to do smth abt it? you can make it as kinky as you like, maybe some degrading and breeding if you’re comfortable w that! ugh i’m a whore for professor!bucky

reblogs & likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged

Warnings: 18+, professor!bucky, dom!bucky, age gap (f early 20's), degrading kink, public masturbation, oral (m&f), fingering, spanking, light choking, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, sorry for any missed typos!

Word Count: 4.6k, you already know i get carried away with bucky

You shuffle through the hallways of the historic building. The walls are decorated with paintings and engravings. Students walking in various directions making the hallway crowded and hard to get through. Every now and then, students would stop to talk to friends or professors. This halts the moving traffic, causing jams and irritated groans from other students. The satisfaction sets in when you glance down at the time and notice it’s nine fifty-seven. In three minutes, you’ll be officially late to class.

The other classes you take bore you- making it hard to stay focused. They are the generic first-year classes that everybody dreads. You always end up doodling or drifting in and out of sleep throughout the period- but this class? This is the only class that excites you.

World History with Professor Barnes.

You wake up extra early in the morning to get ready for his class. You put a little more effort into your appearance than the other classes. The thought of the professors and students seeing you in sweats and hoodie didn’t bother you. Professor Barnes’s class on the other hand- you made sure you looked put together. His lecture has you wanting to wear the shortest sundresses with little to nothing underneath them.

Being late to Professor Barnes’s class is frowned upon and requires immediate attention when it becomes excessive. The immediate attention was an after-hours meeting with Professor Barnes to discuss what could possibly be more important than his lecture.

The first time you showed up late, happened to be the first day of class. When you rushed into the lecture hall, your heart nearly stopped by the man in front of you. Brunette hair’s swept back, piercing blue eyes, and a button-up that looked a size too small- showing off his bulging biceps. The fitted navy-blue button-up was rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone. His biceps on full display through the material- showing off the vibranium. You swallowed hard as he began to scold you in front of the entire hall.

“I do not tolerate tardiness. Enough tardies require a private meeting after hours.” His light blue eyes never broke contact with yours, darkening with lust the longer he looks at you- taking you all in.

It was almost as if he was telling you to be late. There is a faint heartbeat between your legs, you cross them in fear he could hear the throbbing from where he stands. You began to daydream about the warm metal wrapped around your throat, while his other fingers were buried inside you. Or the prints that would be left against the flesh of your ass. You nod slowly with the most innocent eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Barnes. I had gotten lost. It will never happen again.” You say innocently, playing up the role- even going as far as pouting your lips.

Bucky’s cock twitched at the sight of your puffed-out lips. Begging to be made an example out of you in front of the class. You smile back at him, patiently waiting to be excused to your seat.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Ms?”

“Y/L/N.” You purr.

“You may find a seat Ms. Y/L/N.”

He looks are you properly, eyeing you up and down. His eyes fixated on your hips, swaying side to side as you walk up the steps, your skirt flapping up behind you- teasing him. Bucky knew you were going to be trouble this semester- and trouble is exactly what you had been for the last month.

You did everything in your power to get him to keep you after class. Bucky is getting more and more fed up with you- acting so innocent. He knew damn well that you want nothing more than to have your pretty little mouth stuffed with his cock- gagging and gasping for breath.

He hates that you are pretending like you had no idea the amount of frustration you are causing him. The amount of self-control Bucky exhibits is astounding. Especially on the days, you come in wearing close to nothing- claiming it was ‘just too hot outside’ or when you sit in the front row with a lollipop in your mouth, exaggerating the moans as you suck the red hard candy.

-

You straighten out the wrinkles out of the floral baby blue sundress, before turning the knob on the door.

“Ms. Y/L/N. You’re late- again.” Professor Barnes states sternly, not bothering to look at you.

Bucky caught a glimpse out of the side of his eye- you were wearing his favorite dress and knew he couldn’t look at you in the eye without taking you right there.

This is Bucky’s favorite dress. He loves the way it holds your breasts higher and how it hangs over the curve of your ass so nicely.

How much prettier would the dress look across his lap.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you when you walk and the dress flows with every step- sometimes a little too much. This grants him a sneak peek of your favorite lacey white panties- or sometimes the lack thereof. He stiffens at the sight of the fabric covering your pretty little cunt, taunting him.

For the past month, all Bucky could think about is that cunt. How tight you’d be around him- hearing you whimper and whine when he finally enters you, stretching you out to fit perfectly. He wonders if you could take him all at once or if he needs to warm you up with his fingers- but the thing he thought about the most: how sweet you must taste. The question alone could get him off.

How desperately he wants a taste of you.

“Mr. Barnes I am sorry-“ You begin to play into your act before he cut you off,

“Find your seat.” He still not bothering to look at you.

Disappointment floods your face from the lack of attention. In an effort for payback, you sit in the first row already pouting. He began the lecture by discussing the homework he had assigned the night before. You reach into your bag, pulling out the folder.

Expecting you to be in your usual spot in the back of the lecture hall, Bucky clenches his jaw at the sight of you sitting with your legs crossed shut in the front row, with your elbows on the small desk and hands cupping your face in boredom. His cock began to stir. Your breasts press together against the thin fabric- that is working extra hard to keep your breasts from being on display for everyone.

You see the frustration written on his face the moment he finally looks at you. You smirk at the successful payback.

The class goes on, but the material bores you. You begin to stare at Professor Barnes. You could hear the small adjustments from the vibranium as he moves about the lecture hall. Your breath hitches when he rolls his sleeves up. His biceps bulging against the fabric, a faint throbbing begins between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek holding back a whimper. You squirm in your seat, uncrossing your legs to press them together to relieve some pressure.

The sinful thought begins to overtake your mind, only making the throbbing worse by the added arousal pooling against the lace. Checking each side of you, you look to see if there are any other students close enough to you that were about to witness this risky act. There are students staggered behind you, but only a couple dare to sit in the first rows. They are intently listening to their professor- who has his attention on the chalkboard.

You swallow a lump, attempting to steady your breathing. You slip your hand below the desk, resting it on your upper thigh. With one more quick scan of the room, you slip your hand underneath your dress.

You inhale sharply at the contact with your aching cunt. The slow circles you draw over your lacey panties release a wave of pleasure. Your lips part and your eyes flutter. The idea of someone catching you- the idea of him catching you? Made the arousal seep through the material getting on your fingers. You close your eyes dreaming about how Bucky’s fingers would dip between your folds, collecting the arousal and forcing you to taste yourself. You could imagine the pornographic scene play out in your mind, the heavy panting and degrading remarks- your fingers slip inside the thin fragile material. The satisfaction of making direct contact with the bundle of nerves makes it almost impossible to bit back any moans. Instead, you let out silent breaths.

Your imagination continues with his fingers going back between the folds, teasing the entrance- making you whine. Bucky’s other hand groping your breasts harshly. The focus is solely on the clit that throws you hurtling toward your orgasm. You brace yourself for the pleasurable release.

Bucky turns around to flip the page of the textbook when he sees it- sees your legs parted with your middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. He holds his breath, not believing the whore in front of him. Your pants becoming faster and heavier. The pleasure begins to boil over, sending you over the edge. You remove your fingers covering your mouth to muffle the whimpers.

When you come down enough to open your eyes, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. Red flushing your cheeks and your chest tightens- you have been caught. His jaw hung open in disbelief at what he just witnessed. This is the final straw, touching yourself in class? Cumming in class- in front of him. There is no hiding the growing bulge in his pants.

Bucky slams shut the textbook, The other students sit in confusion at the sudden outburst from their Professor.

“Make sure you read the rest of the chapter. Class dismissed.” He almost growls.

Bucky takes cover at his desk, covering any evidence of an erection. He pulls a random stack of papers to distract himself from the bulge in his pants.

You hurry to pack away your things- you know that you are in a world of trouble and wish to leave the room as fast as possible.

You pull the bag over your shoulder and head straight for the door, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Stay.” His voice booming in the near-empty room.

You freeze in your tracks, holding your breath. You turn around to face the furious man seated behind the desk. The one man that now held all the power to expel you. You feel small and weak the closer you get to his desk. He waits till the last student leaves the room.

“Yes, Professor Barnes?” Anxiety begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

“We need to discuss your behavior. Follow me.” The demand making you shiver.

Your legs wobble as you follow him to the room just off the lecture hall. It is his office. It is bigger than you have imagined it. The smell of oak and cigars filling your lungs the moment you enter. His dark mahogany desk is the focal point of the room. The walls are decorated with artwork he had collected over the years. The dark brown curtains are pulled shut. The only light source being the two standing lamps on reside on each side of his bookshelf. Knick-knacks covering the surfaces of the shelves and desk.

“Sit.” His voice is stern laced with lust.

The restricting fabric of the briefs and pants makes the bulge painful. You sit in the chair in front of his desk with your ankles crossed and hands in your lap.

“First, you’re late to my class.” He is stalks around you- like your prey. His arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“Then, you wear this provocative dress.” Bucky’s fingers glide up your arm, grazing over the thin strap on your shoulder. His touch burning your skin.

“Then, you proceed to touch yourself in the middle of my lecture- cumming all over yourself like a disgusting little whore.” His words starting up the throbbing.

Bucky leans against the edge of the desk and your eyes are fixated on your lap- not daring to make eye contact.

“I have every right to expel you,” You inhale preparing yourself.

“-but I’m not going to.” Your eyes shoot up meeting his.

They’re filled to the brim with lust and desire. You gain a boost of confidence soars through you with the knowledge that you aren’t getting expelled.

He tilts your chin up to him, getting a better look at you. Using your chin to turn your face to each side- examining the mouth that will soon be full of him.

Bucky runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling at it- parting your lips. You push your head forward, taking his thumb in your mouth- closing your lips around him. You hum, innocently locking eyes with him.

You had no idea what you just started.

A devilish grin tugs on the corners of his mouth at the sight of you taking his thumb. You hallow your cheeks, sucking gently.

“What a good little slut.” He purrs. Bucky removes his thumb and stands.

“But, you’re not getting off that easily. Come.”

You stand to your feet moving to stand in front of him. The throbbing increases between your thighs and the arousal seeping through your panties. Bucky looks down at you touching your shoulder and neck. He finally rests his hand on your cheek, rubbing the flesh gently. You swallow, tensing and untensing your jaw. Bucky sense your nerves,

“It’s okay, princess- you’ll only be a little sore.” Your heart skips a beat.

Your panties are now drenched in your wetness and you swear he could hear the throbbing. You dreamt for this day. He pulls your lips to his. Finally meeting yours. It is slow and passionate; you didn’t know if you could touch him- but he has his hands holding the sides of your face.

“On your knees.” His voice is low and dark.

You drop to your knees. You’re now eye to eye with his bulge. The hardened cock makes your mouth water. You lick your lips, looking at him before you reach for his belt. He nods granting you permission. The belt is undone along with the button of his dress pants. Your slow movements have Bucky in a trance. His eyes don’t leave you.

You tug the pants down, his length still trapped behind the black briefs. You feel his length and hear a low groan escapes his mouth. You place small pecks on top of the clothed member. You are salivating with every kiss, growing more eager. The underwear is pulled down, freeing the aggravated cock. It’s red and looks like it is going to burst within seconds. The girth and length surprises you and you begin to wonder if you can even fit him inside you- let alone your mouth. Nerves build within you and hesitantly look up at Professor Bucky.

“I don’t know if it will fit,” Your voice is quiet, he chuckles and lifts your chin once more.

“Make it fit.” His voice is just above a whisper, but dark and stern.

At that moment you realize that this wasn’t going to be a quick punishment. He is going to make you wish you never wore short dresses, late to his class, or cum in front of him. Bucky licks his lips in awe of how beautiful you looked kneeling in front of him. All the fantasies are about to come true.

You take his length in your small hands; you use both hands to warm him up- slowly building him up. The strokes begin slow and sloppy. Your thumb going over his tip. It’s angry and swollen, it’s begging to be drained. You rub small circles around it- mimicking your movements from earlier. Bucky’s breathing becomes slow pants. The pleasure building with each stroke.

You mentally prepare yourself, collecting all the saliva you could to the front of your mouth. You flicker your eyes up, the grin that grows on his face as you close your lips around his tip encourages you. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping the strands at the root.

“Yes, take my cock in your mouth you filthy slut.” You hum around him.

He begins to slowly push your head closer to his pelvis, forcing you to take more of him. You were only halfway down his shaft when you gripped his thighs for support. Your ankles are crossed behind you and you are leaning back sitting on your feet.

Bucky didn’t care about staying silent. His low grunts and heavy pants left his lips as he grips your hair. The pure bliss he is experiencing is unlike anyone he’s had before. Based on your performance, he knew that you have had experience before. The thought of other men in your mouth drove him insane. His grip on your hair guides your mouth up and down his cock. He became more aggressive with his grip, quickening his pace.

“I just know you’ve been dreaming about my cock filling your mouth, hm? You’re such a stupid slut- wanting to suck your professor’s cock,” He moans.

You’re gagging on his length, trying your hardest to keep from pulling off of him. You hallow your cheeks adding extra pleasure and using one hand to pump the length while he guides your head. The longer you’re taking him in your mouth the less air you’re getting, the veins in your neck become prominent. You dig your nails into his thigh. Bucky hisses at the feeling of your nails sinking into his skin.

“That’s right, princess. You feel so good around my cock,” He purrs watching the tears forming from in the corners of your eyes.

You can’t take anymore without feeling like you were going to choke. Bucky feels the resistance of you attempting to pull off of him. He pushes your head fully down his length, causing a pornographic moan to leave his lips. Bucky yanks the roots of your hair, ripping you off his length. You gasp for air and cough at the sudden ability to breathe. Saliva coats your lips and his thighs.

“You better finish what you started.” Bucky hisses,

You nod wiping your mouth. This time around, he has precum oozing from his tip. You gather it with your thumb and coat the rest of his length, using it as lubrication. You take him once more, this time using both hands and your mouth. The combo is enough to send Bucky into orbit, but when you start sucking his tip and swirling your tongue around it- he knew it would be a matter of seconds before he would release his load.

“You taste so good, Professor.” You hum against his tip, your movements become faster- not bothering with a slow build.

Bucky grips the edge of the desk, you hear the vibranium cracking through the wood. The sound only eggs you on. The sounds of your slurping and moans, cause Bucky to twitch inside your mouth- signaling he is gonna cum at any moment.

Within seconds your mouth is filled with strings of cum. Bucky’s hips buck as your mouth continues to suck him off. The taste of him has become addicting, you want every last drop of him. You pull off of him, wiping up the spilled cum on your chin. Sucking it off of your finger.

“Shit, princess. You did so well finishing every drop.” He pulls you up from your knees.

“-but that doesn’t mean you’re done. You still need to be punished for your behavior in class. Do you understand?” You nod.

Bucky walks behind his desk. You follow, nervous about what your punishment will be.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Y/N. Bend over.” You do as you say.

Your breast smush against the dark wood, your eyes fixated on the photographs of him with family and friends. You smirk to yourself and look back at him. Bucky’s fingers trail up the backs of your thighs. He lifts the pretty blue sundress, finally seeing that perfect ass up close. Bucky’s cock throbs again when he sees that the underwear you’re wearing the cheeky white lace. So innocent, he thought. Bucky runs his palm over the meaty flesh, gripping and jiggling it. He moans at its effortless movement.

“Fuck!” You yelp, his palm makes contact with your ass cheek.

“I told you, princess. You need to be punished. Count them.” Another rough smack.

“Two.” The tears returning to your eyes, but the pleasure overpowers the pain.

You arch your back, wiggling your ass higher in the air, this time, he is able to get a sneak peek of the covered cunt that lived in his mind.

“Three,” This time, your eyes roll back and you’re seeing stars.

Bucky takes notice of just how soaked you are. He pulls the lace with his metal fingers, tearing through them in an effortless tug. The strings of arousal follow the fabric as it is thrown to the ground.

“Oh? You like getting punished? You soaked through your panties. You really are a fucking whore.” He runs his middle finger down your center, your body twitches once he reaches your swollen and needy clit. Bucky kneels, coming face to face with the glistening beauty. His dream is coming to a reality, he is finally going to taste you.

His tongue dips between your folds, causing you to gasp at the unexpected pleasure. Your ass is still in the air and his hands are gripping your inner thigh, pulling them apart, allowing more access to your sopping cunt.

“Just like I imagined it, so fucking sweet.” He is breathless, the taste of you becomes his new favorite flavor.

Bucky’s tongue licks up the access arousal and his thumb rubs small circles around your clit, making you whine against his desk. His mouth begins to place open mouth kisses against you, his tongue dipping inside you. You need something to grip and release the pent-up pleasure but result to releasing through you moans and whines. It is music to Bucky’s ears.

He pulls away from your dripping cunt, kicking your legs open, spreading them- giving him the best access he could get. His mouth returns to you. But this time giving full attention to your clit.

“I’m too big for your hole, princes. I have to stretch you out.” You whine, as his middle and ring finger slide inside you.

You’re a whimpering mess on his desk as his mouth and fingers switched places. His fingers stretching you out and his mouth on your clit. Bucky moans into you at the feeling of your pussy pulsating against his fingers. You are in pure bliss as he pumps his fingers, occasionally curling- hitting the spongey flesh of your g-spot. He swirls his tongue around your clit, sucking on it and releasing it with a pop. You feel yourself hurdling towards your orgasm. The pulsating becomes quicker, and the moans are now endless streams. Bucky knew you’re close to cumming around his fingers, but you had already came today. He removes his fingers and mouth in one swoop, leaving you breathless and irritated.

“You already came today; only well-behaved whores get to cum.”

You stare back at him in anger. Your cheeks are flushed red and you’re panting like you just ran a marathon. He takes amusement at the sight of you looking like a mess.

“Professor, please! I’ve been a good girl!” You whine, wiggling your ass backwards.

“I’ll think about it. It depends on how well you take this cock, princess.” You nod your head, bracing yourself.

Bucky pumps himself a few times before he slides his tip against your cunt. You dreamed of the moment you would feel him inside you. Him sliding into you and filling you up. The need and desire overtaking you and bucking your hips into his cock.

“I said to be good.” A more aggressive smack lands on your ass, this time he used the vibranium. You yelp in pain, knowing there is going to be a handprint on your ass. Branding you.

You gasp at the sudden fullness.

“I was going to be gentle, since you are not used to a cock as big as me, but since you want to be an inpatient slut- now I’m not going too.” Bucky rams his cock into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size.

He grunts at the sound of your whines and whimpers. He grips your hips using it to increase his speed. The purple and red marks form, where his fingers dig into you. Bucky groans at how tight you feel around him. The resistance from your walls getting him closer and closer.

Bucky continues at his pace while, but this time gripping the back of your neck. He tugs you back, lifting you. Your hands palm down on the desk, using it as stability. One of his hands pins your hands behind your back. Bucky pulls you back, flushing your bodies together. His fingers wrap around your neck. Your head falls back against his shoulder moaning at the sensation of his fingers around your throat. Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t slow down now that you’re standing. Your legs are still wide allowing him to go deep and hard.

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” You couldn’t even think.

You have entered another world. Your hands are still pinned behind you and your eyes are rolling back from the feeling of his other. All you could do is moan and sink into his cock.

“Fucking yourself in front of the class and cumming all over yourself- you fucking loved the idea of getting caught huh? I bet you would love someone to walk through that door and catch me fucking your sweet cunt.”

His words only push you further into nirvana. Your legs begin to feel weak, and the responsibility of standing is becoming too much. Bucky notices the sudden inability to stand.

“You gonna cum, princess?” You are barely able to function. You moan in response and he thrusts quicken- if that is even possible.

“Cum, princess. Cum around my cock,”

You see stars as a wave of pleasure washes overtakes you and you feel pure ecstasy. Your cunt contracts around his cock, sending Bucky over the edge. His cock pulsating and shoot loads of cum inside you, filling you once more.

“Fuck!” He moans one last time.

He collapses on top of you. Your hands catching your bodies as you lay pressed against his desk once again. Bucky pulls himself out of you, leaking with cum. You whimper at the sudden loss of fullness.

Your legs felt weak and standing on your own seemed like an impossible task. You are trying to catch your breath. The high cooling off and you regain the ability to talk.

You push yourself up, feeling the cum run onto your inner thigh. Bucky grabs a handful of tissues, wiping away the cum. He helps you sit down on his chair. Your breathing finally slows and the adrenaline wears off. You begin to feel the aftermath of every mark and muscle. You groan as you try to move from the seat.

Bucky walks over to you handing you a bottle of water and switches places with you, so you are now on his lap.

“I told you would be a little sore,” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your temple.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #professor!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 5 (Kiro) Part 3 [Game Initiation] & [Props and Points] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For the previous translations of Chapter 5: Part 1, Part 2

[Game Initiation]

When I woke up, it was already light out and Kiro wasn’t beside me.

During my rest, the metal collar sent out messages about players that have been out of the game from time to time.

I gently removed the leaves and found that Kiro was leaning on a tree trunk next to the hole, tapping away on the microcomputer.

Kiro: You’re awake!

MC: Sorry, I seem to have slept for a long time…

KIro: It's all right, you needed the rest after yesterday’s ordeal.

The sun slowly sunk. I called out the game map and found that the red dots on the screen were fewer than before, and the highest score in the ranking was nearly 100 points.

The red dot closest to us was moving to the southeast, as if not intending to get any closer to where Kiro and I were.

At this time, Kiro handed me a contact lens case. After I opened it, I found a pair of contact lenses inside.

Kiro: Put them in.

Although a little confused, I still followed his instructions and put on the contact lenses.

Kiro: Kilo, display location.

As Kiro’s voice fell, I instantly saw the same map screen as before, but it only seemed to appear in front of my eyes.

The difference is that in addition to the red dots, there are two pixelated bear heads on the map. One bear had a small golden flower on its head.

Kiro: I just analyzed the GPS system inside the metal collar and matched it.

While talking, he pointed to his eyes.

Kiro: Your lenses are matched with the ones I am wearing now. One of the bears is you and the other is me.

Kiro: Aren’t they cute?

MC: Yeah! But if the little bear wearing the little flower was you, I think it would be even cuter.

Kiro: I don’t have to be so cute!

Kiro simply rejected me and continued to explain the instructions to me.

Kiro: Kilo, show the connection.

Responding to his command, the two bears on the screen shook their heads, connecting a red line between them.

Kiro: Also, you can check the distance between us at any time.

Kiro: Kilo, display satellite signal, zoom in.

I saw the map in front of me being enlarged, showing a huge forest which looked familiar.

There are visible bushes all around and I can actually see a young man running in the distance.

Kiro: You can open it at any time in case you need it in the future!

Kiro: Kilo, close map.

MC: Amazing!

MC: But this forest looks familiar to me…

Kiro: Because this is the forest on the outskirts of Loveland City.

I looked around and felt a shiver go down my back.

Who would have thought that this game was so close to the city and all this was deeply hidden in the shadows?

MC: What exactly is this game?

Kiro glanced at me, hesitating for a moment, then turned on the microcomputer in his hand and motioned for me to come nearer.

Kiro: This game started three years ago. I heard that it was only a small-scale game, but little by little it gradually expanded. The organizer is unknown.

Kiro: There are two ways to participate in the game.

Kiro: One party is a player and points are earned by participating in the game.

Kiro: The top three can choose whether to advance to the next level of games to get more points in exchange for huge rewards. ***Sounds like the Box Office in the MLQC game XD***

Kiro: The game is divided into “zone” and “level”. Games of the same level will be played simultaneously in all corners of the world.

Kiro’s fingers tapped on the keyboard lightly and a world map was displayed in front of us on the screen and dense red dots were pinned on the map.

MC: Are all of these game locations…?

Kiro: This is just a suspicious point found based on the signal. In order to hide the existence of the game, the main messenger of the game often changes the IP address of the server.

Kiro: But the only thing that can be confirmed is that this game has a very wide range of influence and every continent has its own game zone.

I suddenly remembered the words introduced by the electronic voice when I first arrived in the forest.

MC: So we are now the first level in the ninth district…which means there is an eighth and seventh district…..even a tenth one?

Kiro: Mm-hm.

Kiro: The first level of the eighth zone started 5 days ago.

He quickly tapped the keyboard and rows of numbers flew across the screen.

Kiro: It ended about 4 hours ago.

I sucked in a cold breath.

All of this is like a thick, hidden black mist, lurking in a silent corner, quietly using people’s desires as bait.

Kiro: But this is only in Asia.

Kiro: If my guess is correct, right now in the United States, Africa, and Oceania…there should also be a first-level game in the ninth district going on at the same time.

According to Kiro’s prediction, I slightly raised my head and thought about it carefully.

MC: So in simple terms….

MC: The same can be said for the first-level game, the eight-zone level and the nine-zone level in which they may be played sequentially according to the date.

MC: Then, games of the same level in the same area on different continents will be played at the same time?

Kiro: Bingo! You got it.

MC: Can those players who have not been promoted still leave here?

Kiro: Yes, but…

Kiro: You need to be able to get out of here alive.

His tone was faint, but my fingers slowly went numb.

Kiro: In this game, the only way to earn points is to attack others.

Kiro: According to the degree and result of the attack, the system will make a judgment and give the corresponding points.

MC: If you…kill someone, the score will be the highest…right?

Kiro looked at me with some uneasiness and hesitation on his face.

Kiro: MC, even if you don’t know this, it also doesn’t matter.

Kiro: I will protect you so that you can leave here safely.

Kiro’s soft words are like a feather and his beautiful eyebrows were also slightly creased.

I took a deep breath.

MC: No.

MC: I want to know.

He looked at me seriously, as if he was still unsure whether to continue speaking.

MC: And it’s not “I”, but “we”. We are leaving here together safely.

Kiro looked at me, but then chuckled. He didn’t respond to what I just said but lowered his head and tapped on the keyboard.

Kiro: You guessed correctly. If you kill someone, you get the highest score.

Kiro: In order to get a higher score, the participates of the game will naturally choose to directly kill each other.

Kiro: And the messenger has a way to keep such killings undetected.

MC: ….Why would this person do such a thing?

Kiro: This involves the second way of participating in this game: betting.

MC: Could it be…

Kiro: All game participants will be photographed by a camera hidden in the metal collar, and then displayed on the screen for different people to watch and place bets.

Kiro: After the punter obtains the authority through a special method, he can watch the game on the monitor and bet on the participants. If the bet is successful, he can win money.

Kiro: It’s the same as betting on horses.

I inhaled sharply, and suddenly thought of something.

MC: Is this game specifically designed for Evolvers?

Kiro: Mm. At the very beginning, it was just a game for the existence of Evolvers.

Kiro: Probably many people want to see this kind of supernatural beings kill each other like watching a movie.

Kiro’s tone gradually calmed down, and the light from the screen was very solemn in his eyes.

Kiro: For Evolvers, there are still many people who do not acknowledge their existence and the huge rewards of this game are undoubtedly a huge attraction.

Kiro: Later, in order to increase the enjoyment of the game, a few ordinary people with superb physical abilities, were added to the game.

Kiro: In most cases, an Evolver has a greater chance of winning, but I heard….that the hunter with the highest score in this game is an ordinary person.

MC: How did you find out about all this?

Kiro: Well, I also saw a player who survived.

Kiro: His experience was also added to my survey results.

Kiro: But he quickly disappeared.

His brows were tightly knitted into a knot, and his eyes were full of guilt.

Kiro: Because this game has a rule that even after leaving, you are not allowed to disclose any information about the game.

MC: Then, he…

Kiro: The other party is sent to KEY through encrypted mail, and the transmission path and address were destroyed instantly at the same time the mail was sent.

Kiro: In the email, he wrote the online address of the game and the server address that he queried, and he also attached the server change rule he tested.

Kiro: Although there is some deviation from the correct result, it is precisely because of his calculation that I could find the real server address faster.

Kiro: But the next day, he vanished.

He lowered his head, like a self-blaming child. Kiro probably has been continuously blaming himself for this incident.

MC: He knew what the result would be, but he still sent you that email.

MC: I think he must believe that KEY can help more people to end this sinful game.

MC: He believes in you, and so do I.

Kiro touched his hair and smiled helplessly.

Kiro: Damn, I want to be more handsome in front of you, but I didn’t expect you to see me so useless.

MC: No, you are still the most handsome superhero!

He showed that bright smile again. Lu Kang’s memory suddenly flashed across my mind, which seemed to be similar to what Kiro said just now.

So I briefly described the scenes about the youth I saw before to Kiro.

Kiro: It’s not just this young man.

He tapped the Enter key softly, and the faces of six people immediately appeared on the screen.

Kiro: These are the six victims in the Evolver assassination.

Kiro: In fact, the second one was also a game player. He talked about the game in the post bar and disappeared in the afternoon.

MC: Is it possible that the so-called Evolver assassination is somehow related to this hunter game?

Kiro shook his head.

Kiro: The remaining dead have nothing to do with this game, so these two things exist simultaneously.

Kiro: Although they have different goals, both sides seemed to want to dilute themselves to the other side.

MC: How did you find so many…

Kiro: As long as electronic information is used, it will definitely leave traces in the world.

Kiro: I only happened to find out just now.

He turned off the computer screen and there seemed to be a progress bar on the side of the screen flashing by showing 35%.

MC: Then what did you do…

I wanted to ask what method Kiro used to break in and why he was investigating the hunter game when the metal collar around my neck suddenly vibrated.

The chilling mechanical interface was cast in front of us. The difference is that several green dots have been added to the map, and one happened to be near us.

Electronic voice: Ding dong.

Electronic voice: Now is the time for the supply of items for a limited time. Please obtain them according to the map if you need them. Don’t miss it.

[Props and Points]

Supply of limited-time items? What is that?

I looked at Kiro. He also seemed puzzled, but we looked at each other and decided to head towards the nearest green dot first.

It was a relatively spacious clearing in the forest, and there seemed to be a medicine box on a slab of rock in the center.

Kiro and I stayed to the side for now. Because of the virtual positioning set by Kiro, our location will not be discovered for the time being.

Soon a figure appeared in the clearing. He looked like a young man in his 20s with dark red blood stains on his clothes.

??: Open….

*popping sound*

He didn’t finish speaking. A bubble gum-like object floated to his ear at some point and immediately exploded!

The young man fell to the ground in pain, his ears bleeding, and another man emerged in the clearing while blowing bubble gum.

There were more and more bubbles. Kiro suddenly pounced on my body and held my head, covering my ears and the metal collar on my neck all at once.

*more popping sounds*

Nevertheless, the young man’s endless and painful wailing and explosions still pierced my head.

The world returned to silence after a few minutes.

Electronic voice: Hunter No. 19 attacked effectively, earned 30 points.

From the clearing, a cold electronic sound came from the man’s metal collar.

Kiro’s somber expression was reflected in my eyes. Someone died so tragically in front of us, but we were helpless.

The man blowing bubble gum didn’t seem to feel this. He even whistled happily and stepped forward to open the medicine cabinet.

He picked up a syringe and inserted it into the vein of his arm without hesitation.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the man’s arm was already covered with traces of injections.

He bent over slightly. His hands were shaking incessantly, and his nose kept pouring out blood. But he didn’t seem to mind and swiped the blood with the back of his hand.

Ferocious and chilling.

A tree rustled, and the man keenly glanced forward diagonally, revealing his blood-stained teeth. He smoothly spit out a bubble which seemed to be several times larger than before.

MC: His Evol has been enhanced….

The bubble floated leisurely in the direction where the sound came from and a huge explosion was heard the moment it touched the tree trunk!

Man: Huh, an illusion.

He smacked his lips, took a few steps, holding the metal collar with his hand.

Man: Display map.

The man continued to chew bubble gum and his eyes were full of bloodthirsty light. I didn’t know what button he had pushed, but then a call status appeared on the interface.

Man: I got the supplies. This thing can be increased by half an hour which is too useless.

The person on the other end of the call gave a little laugh.

??: I also got it. Indeed, it was a good idea to form an alliance. This game is not that difficult.

??: I heard that there has been a new improvement recently and it can last up to forty minutes.

Man: Forget it. I’ll try it out, see you later.

He turned off the screen, and started walking farther and farther away.

At the moment he left, Kiro lowered the brim of his hat and rushed to the side of the fallen young man.

As he approached him, he covered the metal collar on the young man’s neck with his clothes.

He silently watched the young man take his last breath, and then kindly covered the young man’s horrified eyes.

Electronic voice: Hunter No. 12  has died and his points were cleared.

Electronic voice: Out.

My metal collar said these cold words mercilessly.

Kiro’s body was trembling from anger and he clenched his fists and slammed his fist heavily onto the ground.

I walked forward quietly and lightly dropped my hand on his head. He raised his head and looked at me dejectedly.

Kiro: “I must put an end to the game.”

As soon as his spoke the words, I understood immediately, and nodded fiercely.

I looked in the direction where the man just left, and then at the thick tree trunk that was blown up by the huge bubble.

The syringe inside the medicine box instantly increased the Evolver’s ability. According to the content of the call, the increase time was only half an hour.

I picked up the needle that had just been randomly discarded and found that it was the same packaging as the “Small Syringes.”

….But the effect is obviously different.

Goosebumps stood up on my skin.

The medicine in the test tube is at least ten times or even a hundred times….it’s not an exaggeration to say that it’s an enhanced version, and it really improves capabilities….

Could it be said that the “small syringes” circulating around the black market is actually just a cover, and its biggest role to play is in the game?!

The other player on the call said that it has recently been improved…

MC: The potions in this game….are constantly being tested.

Perhaps what’s going around in the black market is only a large number of defective products after testing and the main messenger behind the scenes has proved that it does contain a special “existence” through medicine.

Next, he can find the special variable through countless experiments and investigations to find the answer--

The manipulator behind this game is also looking for CORE.

All prizes are bait, enticing those Evolvers and powerful ordinary people to become natural guinea pigs.

Kiro: Miss Chips…

Kiro: MC!

MC: !!

Kiro’s face suddenly appeared in front of me and I was relieved. He took my hand.

Kiro: Let’s leave here first.

As if deliberately against us, the metal collar vibrated again, but this time I saw my face appear on the screen.

Electronic voice: Ding dong.

Electronic voice: Now is the time for special missions.

Electronic voice: This time, Hunter No. 29 has been selected. All players who execute an effective attack on this player can get ten times the points.

His voice is sharp and cruel and my photo at the top of the screen is especially clear.

Electronic voice: The time limit is 30 minutes, please don’t miss it.

-End of Part 3-

Continue to Part 4

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #kiro #kiro spoilers #season 2 #translations #mr love queen's choice #mr love game #love and producer #zhou qiluo #koi to producer #mr love dream date #mldd

[poptod]

Cambridge Ghouls: Tree Lights

Description: Christmas is a little confusing what with being a 4,000 year old mummy without translations, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it. Especially when it comes to you.

Notes: i officially LOVE this series cause i get to write about wacky misadventures for as long as i want and ALSO i get to practice my ancient egyptian! WC: 2.1k

part one

+

"Oven."

"Off-en.. I... what?"

"I told you not to teach him the words of things he doesn't know about," Amy deadpanned from her chair, turning the page of her book whilst quirking a brow in Ben's direction.

"How does he not know what an oven is?" Ben said, letting his picture cards fall in favor of crossing his arms.

"We told you this already, he's not from around here."

"What, so they just don't have ovens in Bolivia?"

"Jesus," Amy muttered under her breath, sucking in a sharp breath.

As usual, it was the middle of the night, and Ahk was curled up in a blanket beside the library fireplace. Tendrils of warmth licked up his bare legs and onto his face, soothing the ache of cold tension. Ahk, though listening intently to the conversation between Ben and Amy, understood little of it.

Ever since the start of the second semester, it had rained every day. Outside, the grassy fields were soaked in mud, lined by wet concrete and running students. All in all, not the best environment for a man of Ahk's tastes; someone who grew up in a half-desert. Fortunately his time was well taken up – with the start of the new semester, Phillip ended up signing onto a course about ancient Egypt, spending a good amount of time over break to delve into the language of hieroglyphs. Since he got back he'd been trying to communicate with Ahk, and to both their surprise, several of the attempts were successful. A new hope sparked for communication between the two worlds, a hope that Ben apparently adored to the point of buying children's flashcards.

Although Ahk would always be happy to spend his time learning, he worried for you. Just a little. After all, he always did in some way. You could be surprisingly fragile both physically and mentally. There was a time Ahk went out with Amy and Phillip to run a couple errands, only to return to you curled up in the corner and shaking, Rose sat dead still in her chair, and Ben nowhere to be seen. He hadn't been gone that long, but through your incoherent mumbles he uncovered you were scared. Scared he wasn't coming back. You had thrown your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug he happily returned.

That was just you, though – a little clueless, incredibly sweet, and a tad helpless on your own. With Ahk caught up in his new lessons, you were left alone, something that always unsettled Ahk. There was no telling if you would be alright without him near.

From his seat at the fire, he could spy you through the stacks of books, curled up in the corner and playing with your own skin. You pinched it, rolling it between your fingers till it began to tear. He winced and looked away. Every now and then you did something of that ilk, something very zombie-like of you, and each time he had to look away. He never tried to stop you, though; he reasoned that you were in fact a zombie, and it was only natural you would do zombie-like things at least every now and then.

"Star," Ben said, pulling another card out of his deck, displaying the drawing of the night sky. He pointed to one of the bright dots, helpfully clarifying that it was about the light and not the sky itself.

"Star," Ahk returned, earning a bright grin from Ben. "Siba."

"No, star," Ben said again, pointing more aggressively at the card.

"I think he's trying to teach you the word for it in Egyptian," Amy said, not even bothering to look at either of them.

"If you have so many opinions on this, why don't you do it?" Ben snapped back. Amy's mouth fell open, offense heavy on her furrowed brow.

With a deep sigh, Ahk stood and left his place at the fire, blocking out the loud argument he only half understood, if that. Amy always took Ben a little too seriously, something Ahk knew to avoid the second he started understanding just how Ben's mind worked.

Sneaking quietly through the rows of books, he made his way to you, careful to not disturb any towers with his long cape. As usual you sat on the floor with your back pressed up against the corner, relaxed as you fidgeted absently with your fingers. Only when he approached you did you notice him, a soft, almost slack-jawed smile coming to you as he sat down.

"How are you feeling this evening?" Ahk asked you in his native tongue, fully aware you wouldn't understand or reply. Still, there was a sort of reaction evident on your frame, a movement that had him believing you understood at least the gist of his words.

You reached over, the slightest bit of color in your cheeks as you set your hand atop his, running your palm over the back of his hand. He furrowed his brow, but the confusion faded away when you began to pet him. You were reassuring him. For some reason.

"I really... I am sorry that you cannot join me, on this... venture. I do wish we could find a way to understand you, too. There must be something in your head," he said softly, eyes flickering between your hand on his and your downcast gaze.

A familiar silence came to the both of you when Ahk could no longer lament your lack of communication without repeating himself. As usual, you tried to speak with your actions, setting your legs criss-cross beneath you as you motioned him nearer. He shifted, unsure of your end goal until you gently grabbed his head and forced it onto your lap. His cheeks turned a pretty red as you did so. Yet he was always ready to please you; instead of pushing you away he made himself comfortable on the carpeted floor, breathing slow as you began to pet his hair.

You began to hum a song, incoherent and out of tune, in the soft, humming voice you were left with in death. Although it certainly didn't comprise of an actual melody, it was still nice to hear. Every now and then you'd hit a sweet note where the tune evened out, where your voice was best suited, and at each instance he fell deeper into your petting. Soon the arguing of Ben and Amy disappeared into the background, followed by the crackling of fire and the storming of raindrops outside. All that remained was you.

Ahk enjoyed his blissful ignorance for several more minutes until your strokes were abruptly interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Heavy boots fell on the wooden floors, alerting all five of you to a large pine tree being shoved through the doorway. His eyes widened as a particularly wide branch was shoved through.

Amy stood from her chair, passing by you and Ahk as she jogged over to the door.

"Ahk," she said, "an'na."

Come to me.

Reluctantly he stood, brushing the wrinkles out of his cape and skirt before he went to assist Amy, whose hands barely got a grip on the stump due to her being mostly incorporeal. Ben came by a second later, standing beside Ahk as the three of them all pulled on the stump in a single movement. With one good heave, the tree fell into the library, sending Ahk falling back onto his spine. He hissed instinctively, his hand going to rub at his back. The rain-heavy tree, once stuck in the doorway, now rested almost entirely on him.

Now that he could enter, Phillip tip-toed around the top of the tree to reach Ahk, easily lifting the weight off him with his super strength. Ahk didn't know what exactly Phillip was, but he had said he was a vampire – something Ahk knew nothing about. Maybe that was why he was so strong. Either way, it didn't erase the fact that Ahk was incredibly wet and bruised now.

Over the proceeding ten minutes the four shakily moved the tree to sit beside the fireplace, as all other spaces were already taken up by books and desks. Amy helped to stabilize it while Ben rushed away, in search of something Phillip told him to grab, which Ahk unfortunately couldn't translate in his head. Several questions blurred through his head – mainly questions as to why the hell they would want an indoor tree that would most certainly rot – but he found no chance to ask until Ben returned with a box of shiny, new ornaments.

He pulled Phillip aside, watching Amy and Ben hang the ornaments on the branches out of the corner of his eye.

"Why?" Ahk asked, one of the english words he made sure to remember.

"Uh..." Phillip paused for a moment, attempting to remember his classes, "Un.. neteru, ni peta."

For.. the god, in heaven.

"Ah," Ahk said wistfully, nodding in understanding.

Phillip smiled brightly at the successful communication before motioning him over, handing him a bright red ornament and a tiny metal hook. He glanced at his friends, each of them entranced with this strange worship, before he hung up his first ornament. Hopefully this wouldn't induct him into their religion.

"No," Amy said, pausing Ahk's movements, "make it – or, uh.. ieri nefer."

Make it pretty.

Ah. So this was an aesthetic thing.

With ornament in hand, he looked all around the tree, wondering where it would best fit in relation to both the branches and the other ornaments. Most of the little things hung on the tree were dolls of sorts – ceramic statuettes of animals and instruments, even humans.

A hand on his back startled his posture upright, eyes widening in surprise as he inhaled sharply. Another joined it, and warm fingers spread out to encircle his waist, followed by a cheek against his shoulder.

"Oh, Crayon," he breathed out, returning to his native language, "you startled me."

"Mmm," you mumbled, squeezing him tighter against you as your perpetually-tired eyes fluttered shut.

"Do you want to help out?" He asked softly, attempting to turn round to face you. Your grip proved his task difficult, but with a quick stop to hang the ornament, he was soon met with your head on his chest. A blooming feeling in his stomach spread warmth into his face. Of course it'd be you to bring a blushing warmth to his cheeks – not freezing rain nor well-lit fireplace. Just you.

Amy, currently floating near the top of the tree, held one of the many ornament boxes in her hand. Ahk only noted this once she began to drift down, holding out the box for Ahk to take another ornament. This time he took two – a bearded man in a red suit and a brightly colored icicle – and handed one to you. A small sigh left you, a clear indicator of your reluctance to separate from Ahk, but with his encouragement you did just so.

Together, the six of you (minus Rose, who was napping in her chair) set up all the ornaments on the tree, stringing up garland and fairy lights round the branches to let them glitter in the firelight. With Ben's attentive care, the fire was still roaring away in its' brick house, interrupted only by the worsening storm outside the windows.

As Ahk took your hand, Amy set out the record player and began the first of many songs he would most likely never understand. He could still enjoy them, though – there was a certain charm to them, a happiness clear in the garbled words and bright tune. Whether or not you understood them was a mystery, but you most definitely recognized them. Two seconds into the third song you began to hum the melody; a little out of tune as always, but still clearly the soft song on the record player.

Once again the world began to fade out a little, being replaced with your clouded eyes and sleepy hum. You sat in front of the fire now, leaned against the edge of a bookcase with a pillow behind you, and Ahk at your side. He scooted close to you – impossibly close – till your sides were pressed tight together and he could rest his head on your shoulder. A smile tugged at your lips as the quietest of giggles left you.

Ahk stared at the decorated tree, enjoying the strangely intimate happiness in his heart placed there by you and, undeniably, your group of friends. It was an odd celebration, but he'd be willing to be that if he started any of his own festivals, they'd be just as confused.

He tapped at Phillip's leg, drawing his attention away from his conversation with Amy.

"Ren?" Ahk asked, pointing to the tree again.

Name?

"Christmas," Phillip answered with a smile before promptly returning to Amy.

He turned up to you, shifting ever closer to your willing touch. There he nuzzled into you, his nose pressed up against your jaw as you smiled, staring at your intertwined hands.

"Happy Chriss-mas, Cray," he mumbled, his eyes drifting slowly shut.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

first show

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think 

summary:   could you do one where maybe richie’s daughter has like a segment in one of his shows, and the losers come and everything and she makes the croud laugh like harder then they ever did the whole night, and like richie’s just super proud to be her father?

The backstage arena shines brighter behind the curtain, Sophia gathers. Sure, she had been here before, when she cheered her father on when he entered the stage, but she was never nervous then.

Now, she’s terrified. Her knees wobble and hands clench around a pole holding up an unused light, steadying herself so she stays upright.

Her dad is well on his way to charm his audience, not surprisingly though, he is nothing if not funny. He’s also the reason everyone came to the show, not just his fans, but also his friends; the losers club, her uncles.

Sophia is pretty sure that they would have made an appearance even if Richie told them beforehand that she was going to take a shot at the comedian job too, but they would have been overly excited, and that would only add more stress on Sophia’s shoulder. Something she really wanted to avoid.

Regardless, they’re here now, and in another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, Sophia will walk up stage, and take a hard L, as her dad so lovingly calls it. He likes to pretend that he is up to date with all the fads, even if deep down he stopped following them by the age of twenty-five.

He is sure that Sophia won’t fail, he convinced her to do her piece in the middle of his performance in the first place, but he did joke about something that she’s pretty sensitive about.

She’s scared to mess up, to be mocked by the audience and to disappoint not only her father but her uncles and aunt as well. Unlikely as it is, the fear has always festered in the back of her mind, ever since her dad went away for a few days and came back with a brand new family.

All of them know nothing but success in their respective areas, and to begin with absolutely nothing, and then attempting to impress them, is scary beyond belief.  They love her, adore her even, yet that means nothing when her anxiety begins to play up.

A hand taps her on the shoulder, not forceful, but the rocky state of her body causes her body to stumble forward anyway. Steve stands a few steps away from her, carrying a glass filled with water, she assumes, offering it up to her would a smirk.

‘I know I always say you’re like your dad, but it has never been more prominent then now.’

Rolling her eyes, Sophia accepts the glass with a deep groan. ‘Please don’t, if I was like my dad, I might need a bucket to throw up in.’ Her stomach rumbles in agreement, turning and the water she drank sloshing in her stomach.

‘On second thought, I need that bucket, asap.’  

Steve laughs, maintaining a soft voice so that it goes unheard by Richie on the stage. ‘You’ll be fine’, Steve assures her. He waits patiently for her to finish the glass, then takes it back while ignoring the shaking of her hands.  

‘You’ll be fine.’ Steve fobs off, busy typing away on his phone after letting another cast member take care of the cup.

Steve is nice enough, but always concerns himself more with the fame and tour dates, instead of the person behind it.

‘And that’s the reason I’m no longer allowed near a sewer,’ Richie finishes, done with the first half of his set, meaning that Sophia was about to go on next. ‘These fucking tour dates are doing my head in,’ Steve mutters at the same time, not noticing that Richie is done.

He looks up sharply then, towards Sophia, and nods his head. ‘Good luck’, he says in a tone that most certainly is not faith giving. He smiles fakely, the smile too wide for the situation, then brings the phone up to his left ear as he walks away.

‘Wow’, Sophia sighs out, turning back to the podium to observe her father, memorizing his movements and gestures, so she can copy them on stage.

‘So my daughter, yeah I know someone desired the trashmouth enough to birth his kid’, he waits a moment till the laughing quiets down, ‘she’s just like her dad. She loves pulling pranks and told me that she hopes to become a comedian. Says she’s proud of me.’

The losers, seated in the front row, aww at the adorableness, even though they know this, god knows Sophia tells him often enough.

‘I don’t know how’, Richie adds as an afterthought for comedic purposes, laughing a bit himself. ‘But yeah anyway, she’s going to give it a shot right now, so you ladies and gentle, are witnesses of a star rising. She’s not as funny as me, but she’s pretty close.’

He waves to the audience, sauntering off to the side to get to Sophia. He approaches her with open arms, and Sophia rushes in his arm as soon as he’s out of sight.

‘Hey Soph, you ready?’ Richie asks, full of butterfly and nervousness for his daughter.

‘No’, She complains, pulling back from the hug to grab the paper in her pocket. It’s pointless, she memorized every last one of the jokes word for word, but she figures it won’t hurt to skim over them again. She tries her best to read it, but she is quivering so much that it’s impossible to make them out.

‘Fuck me.’

‘Hey, no cursing’, Richie chastise, though he’s smiling, draining his words from any conviction. ‘You’re going to be great. I didn’t name you Sophia Hilarious Tozier for nothing.’

‘I’m only 80 percent sure that’s a joke and that’s sad actually.’ The jab breaks the tension surrounding her, and Sophia realizes like a slap to the face that she this is why she is risking getting chastened for. She’s devoted to creating an atmosphere during which people feel free enough to let go of their worries, and to guffaw and chortle and cherish the night.

She is devoted to this, and no amount of anxiousness is going to prohibit her from doing that. ‘What if I mess up?’

‘You can’t possibly mess up more than the first time I ever got performed. Did I tell you that story?’

‘Ah yes, the infamous college story.’ The college comedy night that had no business being a comedy night, it’s a long story.

‘And I even messed up only two years ago, and people forgot about that.’ Richie says, throwing her a thumbs up, knowing full well that people still make fun of him for it. Without having the time to respond, the backstage manager approaches them, tapping his pen on the clipboard, indicating that it was time for Sophia to go on.  

Inhaling for three counts and breathing out for four, Sophia squares her shoulders, clenches her fist and then shuffles forward.

‘Hey’, Richie stops her, his hand gently clasping her arm. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Sophia smiles, wholeheartedly, while warmness creeps into every pore of her being. As long as her dad loves her, everything will be just fine.

‘I got this I got this I got this’, she mutters under her breath until she’s positioned before the mic, the light blinding her from everyone accept the first row.

The losers are cheering loudly, even though she has yet to utter a single word, whooping and clapping their hands like monkey at the zoo. Sophia grins as a greeting, and contrary to her previous beliefs, she’s relieved their here, instead of more anxious.

With one last glance at her father, she starts, and she rocks it.

And if later that night Richie whips his tears away subtly without Sophia knowing about it, than only he and Eddie have to know about it.

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x daughter #My writing #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2 #adult richie #Richie as a dad

[broomballkraken]

Title: Excuses, Excuses, Chapter 5: Inexcusable Love

Fandom: Pokemon Sword/Shield

Pairing: Milo/Nessa

Word count: 4348

Warnings: None

Summary: Excuse #5: Error 404: Excuse Not Found. In the chaos of the Dynamax disaster in Hammerlock, Nessa and Milo are assisting in keeping the giant, out-of-control Pokemon at bay. However, when Milo is in danger, Nessa makes a rash decision to save him, and the reason she did so is, well, pretty much inexcusable at this point.

The Champion Tournament was an event that everyone looked forward too, and the people that were most excited were the Gym Leaders, and the Gym Challengers who had managed to obtain all the eight of the Galar gym badges. This year’s tournament was no different, and even though Nessa had been knocked out in the first round, it had been an incredible battle with the top Gym Challenger. She knew that this trainer was a special one, and she couldn’t wait to see their match against Leon, as they had proceeded to breeze through the rest of their battles.

Unfortunately, Nessa would have to wait longer than she had anticipated for that match, due to the fact that she was currently trying to help stop three rampaging Dynamax Pokemon from completely destroying Hammerlock.

“Drednaw! Use Liquidation!” Nessa yelled up to her Gigantamax partner. The giant turtle let out a bellow before a wall of water formed in front of him, and he charged at a Dynamax Ninetales, while carefully avoiding hitting any buildings in his vicinity. The Ninetales shrieked when Drednaw hit it dead on, and it staggered backwards.

“Go now!” Nessa yelled to the group of civilians behind her. They quickly thanked her and raced down the street, which had been cleared of the Ninetales that had been blocking it, to get out of the city. Nessa sighed with relief. She had been lucky that she had managed to contain the out-of-control Dynamax Pokemon in Hulbury inside of the Gym, because that had allowed her to race to Hammerlock to help with the more serious situation here.

“Dragon Pulse!” Nessa turned to see Milo directing his Gigantamax Appletun to attack a Dynamax Duraludon, who was getting dangerously close to a row of houses. Milo had also gotten lucky in Turffield and subdued the rampaging Pokemon there without much trouble, and was able to meet Nessa in Hammerlock to help Raihan defend his home. It seemed that the source of the rampaging Dynamax Pokemon was somewhere in the city, as the amount and ferocity of the out-of-control Pokemon were much higher than the other cities with Gyms around Galar.

“You alright, Ness?” Milo called out as he looked over at her, and Nessa nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good! You?”

“Yep. Good job getting those people out of harm’s way!” Milo smiled at her before turning his attention back to his Appletun, who had just taken a rough hit from the Duraludon’s Dragon Claw. Nessa turned back to Drednaw, who was still locked in an intense fight with the Ninetales, but she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned around.

Nessa’s eyes went wide when she saw the Dynamax Gyarados rise up from behind a row of tall buildings, it’s glowing red eyes locked onto Milo. It’s jaw opened and the glowing white light forming inside its mouth prompted Nessa to yell a warning to Milo, but he was too busy shouting out orders to Appletun to hear her. Without giving herself time to think, Nessa sprinted as fast as she could towards him. The telltale high-pitched screech of a Hyper Beam being shot off hit her ears, just as she slammed herself into Milo as hard as she could, knocking him off of his feet.

Nessa glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the Hyper Beam luckily miss her and hit the ground at her feet. The pavement exploded below her, and she screamed as she was launched from her feet and slammed hard into the side of a building. She slid to the ground and cried out again, a white-hot pain shooting through her torso. Dizziness filled her head as she tried to push herself up, and she felt a sticky wet sensation falling down the side of her face.

“Nessa!” she heard Milo scream, but it sounded distant, and she raised a shaky hand to her wet face, pulling it away to find it stained dark red: blood. She was bleeding pretty badly from her head somewhere, and a wave of panic coursed through her as she inhaled sharply. She quickly realized that was a mistake, for an unbearable pain shot through her rib cage. She let out a wet cough, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth as she groaned in agony.

She tried again to push herself up, in spite of the painful protests from her body, but she heard a loud cracking noise in front of her. Nessa managed to lift her head enough to see that the building she had hit was starting to crumble, the wall leaning precariously in her direction. The color drained from her face as she watched the building slowly start to fall, and her broken body would not respond to her brain screaming for her to move out of the way. Nessa squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the crushing impact…

...But it never came.

Cracking open one eye, Nessa saw Milo standing before her in her dizzy haze. He had his arms over his head, and the fallen wall was braced against his hands. His arm muscles strained with the effort of holding the rubble up, and Nessa blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from her mind. He...He was okay…She was so grateful for that...

“M-Milo…” Nessa choked out, spitting blood onto the ground as more ran down her face from the wound on her head and into her eyes. She reached a trembling hand out towards him, but what little strength she had left quickly faded and she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she heard was Milo screaming her name before everything went black and she lost consciousness.

~~~

“Milo!”

Nessa’s eyes shot open as she flung herself upright, but she realized that was a mistake rather quickly as a sharp pain shot through her, forcing her to fall backwards with a groan. She cringed as the pain slowly faded away, and she managed to prop herself up on her elbows as she blinked slowly and looked around.

She appeared to be in a hospital room, the white, sterile-looking furniture and the IV stuck into her arm being dead giveaways. She laid back onto her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her memories slowly returning to her.

“Milo…” she said again, a wave of relief washing over her. Ah right, they had been fighting the Dynamax Pokemon together, when she pushed him out of the way of the Hyper Beam...and she had almost been crushed by a building...and that was all that she could recall. She must have been hurt pretty badly to have ended up in the hospital, and the dull pains that shot through her whenever she moved told her as much. She was glad that she was alive...but she was more so that Milo was safe...or at least she hoped that he was…

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

Nessa sat up when a voice hit her ears, and she smiled when Kabu entered her room and made his way to her bedside. Nessa sighed with relief at the sight of him looking unharmed. Kabu had also been helping out with the Dynamax situation, and although she knew that the old man could handle himself well enough, she had still worried for him. He was pretty much like a second father to her, and to Milo as well. They two of them could contribute much of their success as Gym Leaders to Kabu’s patient yet strict training regimens.

“Kabu! What happened? Is Hammerlock okay? What about the Dynamax Pokemon? And Milo-”

“Slow down,” Kabu said, cutting off her rambling as he chuckled and sat down in the chair next to her bed. “I’ll tell you everything.” Nessa nodded and leaned back against her pillows, trying to get comfortable without jolting her wounds.

“Now then,” Kabu began as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Hammerlock is fine, no casualties. The source of the out of control Dynamax Pokemon was stopped by Leon, his brother, and the new Champion.”

“Ugh, no way! Did I miss the match? What rubbish luck!” Nessa complained, groaning as she dragged her hands over her face.

“Unfortunately, yes. It was held yesterday. You’ve been out for three days.”

“T-Three days?!?” Nessa gasped. She was out cold for three days? What happened to her?

“Yes. You sustained a rather nasty gash to your head, and you had three broken ribs. You are very lucky that Hyper Beam did not hit you head on, or you’d be dead right now.” Kabu said, his gaze turning serious. “That was risky, what you did.”

Nessa clenched her jaw, one of her hands reaching up to brush at the bandage wrapped around her head, while the other balled into a fist in her lap. She had almost died, but if she had done nothing, Milo would have been obliterated by that Hyper Beam for sure. The very thought of that made her sick to her stomach. She...could not imagine her life without him, and that’s why she acted so rashly. She just...didn’t know exactly why.

“Ah, but that’s how it is sometimes,” Kabu continued, a sly grin crossing his face. “When you love someone, all rational thought seems to elude you, especially when that someone is in danger.”

“L-Love?” Nessa said, her face heating up considerably as she stared blankly at Kabu. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yes, love. You’re smart, Nessa, but so, so dense.” Kabu said, chuckling when Nessa’s face scrunched up with annoyance. “It’s quite obvious to everyone around you that you love Milo...Well, to everyone except for you and him, it seems.”

Nessa didn’t respond, opting instead to try and focus on regulating her breathing to calm her rapidly-beating heart. Love...She...was she in love with Milo? Her brow furrowed and lips pursed as she thought hard about it. Milo was a treasured friend, her best friend. They had been through so much together since they met, paying visits to each other’s cities, watching each other’s gym matches, cheering each other on. The bond that they shared was something that Nessa had never expected she’d ever have with someone else. He was really the most wonderful person she had ever met. The fact of the matter was undeniable and inexcusable at this point.

“Oh...oh my god, Kabu...I’m in love with Milo.” Nessa said, her jaw dropping as she turned to Kabu with a horrified look on her face, which caused him to laugh.

“Well, it’s about time you realized it,” he teased, “but you don’t look happy about it.”

“Uh, well, it’s just…” Nessa mumbled, her face flushing a bright red as she looked down at her lap, “I...don’t know what to do now.”

“You should tell him.”

“But, what if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? I don’t want to make things weird between us…” Nessa said, swallowing thickly as her stomach dropped. He was her best friend, but if she did tell him about her feelings and he rejected her, could their relationship still remain the same? Kabu erupted into a fit of laughter, which surprised Nessa enough to pull her from her negative thoughts.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” he said, “As soon as you were out of surgery, Milo didn’t leave your bedside or let go of your hand for two days straight. He’s not here now only because I told Raihan, Leon, and Piers to drag him out of here for a proper meal and a nap.” A surge of happiness coursed through Nessa’s chest, making her feel a warmth that she hadn’t felt before. Milo really was worried for her, wasn’t he? Maybe there really was a chance that he felt the same about her…

“Well,” Kabu said as he stood up, “Milo will certainly want to know that you finally woke up. I’ll go grab him for you. The boys probably have him tied down in the cafeteria.”

“Alright, see you later.” Nessa said, “And, thanks Kabu. For everything.” Kabu looked over his shoulder as he grabbed the door handle.

“You’re welcome. Good luck.” Kabu said, smiling softly as he opened the door and left the room. Nessa took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the nervous churning of her stomach. She’d need all the luck she could get if she was going to tell Milo how she felt without bumbling through the confession like a giant goober. Ugh...How was she going to do this?

She didn’t have much time to think about it, because in no time at all the door to her room was suddenly being flung open. Milo rushed into the room, panting hard as if he had sprinted here at full speed from the cafeteria. His eyes went wide as the biggest smile she’d ever seen (and she’d seen some pretty big ones from him) crossed his face.

“Nessa!” he said, rushing to her bedside and immediately taking one of her hands in his. Nessa felt her cheeks heat up as his larger hand engulfed hers, something that had happened before but took on an entirely new meaning for her now. “I’m so glad you’re awake!”

“Hey, Milo.” Nessa said, hoping that she was doing a good job of masking the nervousness in her voice. Milo continued to smile at her as he sat down in the chair and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Are you feeling okay? Do you need any more pain medication? I can call the nurse if you do? Oh! And if you’re hungry I can go and get-”

“Whoa, slow down there big guy.” Nessa said, giggling as a dusting of pink covered Milo’s freckled cheeks and he scratched at his chin.

“Er, sorry. I was just...so worried about you, Ness.” Milo said, his voice dropping in volume as the smile fell from his face. “I’d...well, I’d never been that scared in my life, when I saw you hit that wall...and when that building was about to fall on you I was just so...terrified that I wouldn’t make it in time to save you.”

“Oh, Milo…” Nessa said, guilt bubbling up inside of her as she averted her gaze, “I’m sorry for worrying you, but when that Gyarados was aiming that Hyper Beam at you, I just had to do something.”

“But Ness...You could have really been hurt so much worse than you were, and you were hurt pretty bad already. Why...why would you put yourself in that kind of danger for me?” Milo said, and her gaze lifted back to his, the sad look in his eyes making her feel even more guilty. Why indeed? She knew the answer now, but would she be able to tell him that? Nessa took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she steeled herself for what was to come. She exhaled as she opened her eyes, the fiery look of determination in them causing Milo to raise a confused eyebrow.

“I did it because...I’m in love with you, Milo.” Nessa said, the confession finally spilling from her lips as her intense gaze locked with his. Milo blinked at her a few times, his expression blank, before his face flushed a deep red and he jerked backwards, almost falling out of his chair.

“Y-You...I don’t think I heard you right.” Milo said after he had steadied himself, and he laughed sheepishly as he rubbed at his neck, “‘Cause I could’ve sworn that you just said that you loved me.”

Nessa giggled and rolled her eyes, reaching over to take his large hands in hers. “Well, I’m glad that your ears seem to be working properly, because that’s exactly what I said.” Milo continued to stare at her, his jaw dropping as a completely dumbfounded look crossed his face. Nessa couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing, and she immediately winced as her injured ribs screamed in protest.

“A-Are you...serious?” Milo finally managed to squeak out, his face somehow flushing an even deeper red when Nessa smiled at him and nodded, her fingers entwining with his.

“Yes, of course. I definitely wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Nessa said, “Is that...um, a good thing?” She swallowed thickly as she waited for him to say something. Milo stared down at their hands for the longest five seconds of Nessa’s life, before he suddenly looked back up at her with the most ecstatic smile on his face. Nessa’s heart leapt into her throat at the beautiful sight.

“Oh, yes!” Milo almost yelled, his hands squeezing hers as he tried to contain his giddy excitement, and a huge smile slowly spread across Nessa’s face. “Wow! I just never thought that you’d ever feel the same way about me as I do about you!”

“What?” Nessa breathed, happiness surging within her chest has tears of joy threatened to spill down her face. She hoped that she wasn’t in a coma still, because damn this was going so much better than she should have ever hoped for.

“I love you too, Nessa!”

The words that she wanted to hear the most spilled out of Milo, and the tears Nessa was trying to hold back fell down her face. She wiped at her cheeks as she tried to stop them, and one of Milo’s hands came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing away her tears.

“Er, Ness? I don’t think you’re supposed to cry when someone tells you they love you…” Milo said, grinning when Nessa laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder.

“Shut up...These are happy tears.” Nessa said, a blush rising on her cheeks when Milo’s hand lingered against her face. “I was...worried that you wouldn’t feel the same and I’d make our friendship really weird…”

“Oh, no way! How could I not fall for you, Nessa?” Milo gushed, beaming as he brought his free hand up to cup her other cheek. “You’re the most amazing person that I’ve ever met. I’ve loved you for a while now!”

“Really? Since when?” Nessa asked, her eyes widening with shock. She couldn’t believe that he’d really been in love with her and she hadn’t noticed. Maybe Kabu was right about her being dense…

“Um, remember that time when I saved you from that Wooloo stampede?” Milo said as he averted his gaze, embarrassed, “It hit me then that I like you so much more than a friend, because the thought of you getting hurt just made me feel so scared. I’d do anything to protect you.”

“Aw, Milo, that’s so cute.” Nessa said, laughing as she placed a hand over one of his that still cupped her face. “I feel the same. That’s why I couldn’t stand by and watch you possibly get hurt, or worse…” The thought of how close either of them came to death made a chill run up Nessa’s spine, but Milo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the warmth of his touch seemed to spread throughout Nessa’s body.

“Well, thank you for saving me, Ness. But please don’t do that again. I don’t think my heart could handle that kind of worry a second time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I should be thanking you too. You kept that building from falling on me. So, thanks.”

They both laughed, and when Nessa’s eyes met Milo’s again, she grew shy at the look of absolute adoration that he was giving her. A happiness that she had never felt before swelled within her. She loved Milo, and by some miracle he loved her too. What an amazing end to a rather hellish situation.

“Golly, I’m just so happy!” Milo finally said, his arms wrapping gently around Nessa, and he was careful not to move her too much. “I really want to just pick you up and twirl you around, but I don’t think that’d be too good for your injuries…” Nessa smirked as she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him close enough that their foreheads touched.

“Well...how about you just kiss me instead?” Nessa whispered, her nose brushing against his ever-so-slightly. Milo gawked at her for a moment, causing Nessa to giggle, but he recovered quickly as he eagerly pressed his lips to hers. Nessa giggling ceased as she returned the kiss, her lips curving into a smile against his own. Milo pressed a bit harder, but stopped, and Nessa snorted when she saw the look of uncertainty and hesitation in his eyes. She pulled away slightly, tilting Milo’s head up before brushing her lips against his again, and they seemed to fit together better at this angle. Milo sighed and Nessa could practically feel the tension leave him as he embraced her tighter, while one of Nessa’s hands moved to his neck and the other buried itself into the soft hair at the back of his head. Nessa felt like she was floating on air, and as the kiss deepened, she found herself wishing that this moment would never end.

“Ha! It’s about time, you two!”

“Jeez, get a room already!”

“...They are in a room, you dolt.”

Milo jerked away from Nessa so abruptly that he did fall out of his chair this time, while Nessa covered her face with embarrassment. She peaked through her fingers to find Leon, Raihan, and Piers standing in the doorway, and she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at them.

“Don’t you guys know how to knock? Barging into a woman’s room is just asking for an ass-kicking.” Nessa said, the venom in her tone causing Raihan and Leon to share a worried glance.

“I tried to stop them, but these two idiots couldn’t wait any longer to come see you.” Piers said with an exasperated sigh. Nessa couldn’t help but smile, and she wondered how he managed to put up with his two doofus boyfriends all the time. Piers then smiled as he continued, “Glad to see you’re doing well, though.”

“Hehe, well enough to be sucking-face with Milo-” Raihan said, but was cut off when Leon jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“That’s too far.” Leon scolded, and Raihan laughed nervously as he looked over at Nessa and Milo.

“Er, right, sorry guys.” Raihan said, and a big toothy grin crossed his face, “But really, congrats on the new relationship. We were all wondering when it was finally gonna happen.”

“Ugh, did everyone know except for us?” Nessa groaned, smacking a hand over her face. Milo just laughed and took one of her hands in his, smiling fondly as he entwined their fingers together. A smile made its way back to Nessa’s face as she looked back at the trio of men. “But thank you guys for worrying about me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for.” Leon said, and Piers nodded. Raihan also gave an enthusiastic nod, before rushing over to the side of the bed and pulling out his Rotom phone.

“Yeah, yeah, enough of that! It’s time to take your first pic as a couple!” Raihan said excitedly, and Nessa glowered at him.

“I don’t exactly look picture ready, Rai.” Nessa mumbled, running a hand through her messy hair as she glanced down at the unflattering hospital gown that she wore. Milo just blushed and averted his gaze, and Nessa couldn’t help but think that he looked cute.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! This one is just for you two, and it won’t see any social media unless you guys are the ones to post it. I promise!” Raihan said, winking as his Rotom buzzed around him. Nessa glanced back at Piers, who mouthed ‘I will kill him for you if he breaks that promise’ and she knew that he meant it.

“...Alright, but if you break that promise, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.” Nessa warned as she wrapped her arm around Milo’s back and pulled him closer to her.

“Oh yeah, she’s a keeper, Milo.” Raihan said with a laugh, and Milo grinned as he moved his arm behind Nessa’s back to place his hand on Nessa’s waist.

“I already know that.” Milo said, beaming at Nessa as she giggled. They smiled as Raihan’s Rotom snapped a few pics, and before the last one was taken, Milo turned and kissed Nessa’s cheek.

“Aw man, you guys take such cute pics! Teach those two dorks over there how it’s done, please.” Raihan said, earning a glare from Piers and a pout from Leon. Raihan walked back over to his boyfriends as they bickered with him, and Nessa rolled her eyes at their antics, but smiled nonetheless. She was glad that she had such wonderful friends.

“Hey, Ness?” Milo whispered, dragging her attention away from the loud, bantering trio. She blushed when Milo pressed his lips to hers briefly, before pulling away to look deep into her eyes. “I love you. I’m gonna take you on the best dinner date when you get out of here, okay?” Nessa’s eyes lit up as a bright smile crossed her face, and she nodded.

“I’d really like that. I love you too, Milo.” Nessa whispered back, she cupped his face to pull him in for another kiss. It seemed that she had no excuses left to explain away her feelings, feelings that she knew now had been lying dormant inside of her for quite some time now. She was grateful for that, because she loved Milo, and he loved her just as much, and neither of them would have it any other way.

#pokemon swsh #waterlilyshipping #waterlillyshipping #milo/nessa #pokemon milo #pokemon nessa #fanfiction #jade writes fanfiction

[hellyeahomeland]

“Threnody(s)”: an HYH recap

First things first: a threnody is “a wailing ode, song, hymn, or poem of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.” If it clicked far too late for you that the parentheses and ‘s’ meant that more than one person would die this week... welcome to the club.

This soul crusher of an episode opens with Haqqani reading the Quran in his cell. A few guards arrive to get him and he walks, peacefully, slowly, while the other prisoners bang their cups against their cells (a real thing that happens on death row in American prisons). He’s handcuffed to a post in an open-air courtyard as he stares down a lineup of soldiers with rifles, all aiming at him.

Cut to Hayes, Linus, and Hugh Dancy John Zabel in the Oval Office. They have the video that Jalal Haqqani shot of Max last episode. This is now a hostage situation and… look how these dots connect. If G’ulom executes Haqqani, Jalal will execute Max. Hayes pleads with G’ulom to halt the execution, at least until they can retrieve Max. G’ulom agrees, but only for 24 hours.

Saul calls Carrie on the sat phone and she asks for an update. When is special ops coming? He still doesn’t know, but hey! At least now people other than Carrie seem to sort of care about whether Max lives or dies. She says the situation there is “quiet but fucked,” which is a perfect descriptor of most Homeland scenes.

Saul steps into a meeting with the White House to discuss Max’s exfiltration. It’s tough, because there’s no cover and the house they’ve got Max in is completely exposed. Also it’s in Pakistan so that adds another layer of complication. Hayes wants to know the odds. Resident Scott Ryan delivers the not so great, not so bad news: 50/50.

Hayes has a freakout because even when they went to kill bin Laden it was like 80%. But 50%? It doesn’t help that John Zabel is the figurative devil on his shoulder, making arguments like:

We don’t negotiate with terrorists. (Heh? It’s not a negotiation.)

I don’t even know who Max is. (You literally just got here. SIT DOWN, JOHN.)

“The US government can’t be expected to come to the rescue of every adventurer who gets himself in trouble overseas.” (Fuck you, dude.)

If the rescue fails, it’ll sink your presidency. (Your wife Carrie Mathison is gonna come after your ass.)

Elsewhere in the West Wing, Linus is snooping in John’s office and finds a printout of a speech he’s been working on for Hayes, the gist of which is: “Peace in the Middle East? I don’t know her.”

If you’re wondering whether John Zabel was successful in convincing Hayes to leave Max to die, in the very next scene Haqqani is dragged back into the courtyard. Saul is there. Once again they line up, but this time they go through with it. The bullets hit him and he doubles over. Saul watches in horror. Then, miraculously, he inhales sharply, very much not dead. He pulls himself up and stands again. G’ulom orders them to reload as prisoner’s chants of Haqqani’s name reach them. They fire again, and he falls to his knees. The job is done.

Back at the compound, there’s movement. Yevgeny brings Carrie a news report: an image of Haqqani, chest filled with bullets, slumped over. Carrie knows what this means, and then she spots the Taliban soldiers escorting Max out of the house, seemingly to take him to another location. She calls for the crew to get their stuff, they need to follow them and can’t lose track. Then, through the scope of the binoculars, she spots Jalal Haqqani shoot Max in the chest from close range. One two three.

Carrie races down the hillside as the Taliban soldiers all flee in their trucks. She gets to Max, lying on his side, blood in the dirt. She checks his pulse, but the worst has happened—again. She breaks down in sobs as she clutches his body.

In Washington, Linus is furious with John Zabel—who might just be as evil as his beard is tragique. Linus is in disbelief about this “speech” Zabel has written. A speech where he calls for security along the entire Afghan-Pakistani border that will be guarded entirely by the Pakistani military—the military of a country Zabel refers to as “failed and duplicitous.” It’s basically Homeland’s version of Tr*mp saying Mexico will pay for the wall after he called Mexicans criminals and rapists. 

ANYWAY. Zabel spits back that he can’t be as dumb as Linus, who got two presidents killed. And, I mean I did make this point last week, but that doesn’t make Zabel any less evil.

Meanwhile, Saul is overseeing the preparation of Haqqani’s body. Carrie calls him. She’s still sitting next to Max’s body, her face is stained with tears. 

Carrie: Max is dead. Fuck you. Saul: What? Carrie: He’s dead. Fuck you. By the way, thanks for the special ops team. They were really handy. Saul: POTUS wouldn’t move. Carrie: You wouldn’t make him move. You did nothing. You brought him here and it was your responsibility to protect him. That was your fucking job! Not mine. But I still tried, and he’s still dead. Did I say fuck you yet? Because fuck you. And fuck special ops too! Saul: I deserved that. But also, Carrie, you can’t keep running around with Yevgeny in the Pakistani countryside. Even though it brings great joy to Sara.  Carrie: Fuck you, dude. At least Yevgeny gave a shit. Saul: You still have to come in. Carrie: Come and get Max. I’ll still be here. Fuck you, goodbye.

The Taliban are holding a town meeting. Haqqani’s lieutenant says they need to keep on the same path that Haqqani set out for them: peace. He knows that none of them were responsible for the helicopters crashing, so peace really is still possible. Just then, Haqqani and the Taliban Teenagers roll up. That’s right, it’s time for a little power battle. Jalal tells them all that his father is a hero. He wouldn’t die even after they shot him. He says we have to honor him: not by respecting the choice he made for peace, but by emulating him back when he was busting into embassies and murdering people. And also: it was I, Jalal Haqqani, who fired the RPG that brought down the presidents’ helicopters! And we will do the same for any other infidels who stand in our way!

After the meeting, the lieutenant comes over to Jalal and asks for some one-on-one time. He knows that Jalal didn’t shoot down the helicopters and Jalal gaslights him a bit. He also knows that Haqqani didn’t choose Jalal to be his successor, and Jalal gaslights him a little bit more. Jalal offers him some money or poppy fields if he’ll buzz off, but all he wants is peace, his country back. Jalal says they’ll get their country back, but not through peace.

In the Oval Office, Hayes is sitting with the Two Stooges, who both want him to say something wildly different in his address to the nation. Hayes just says, “figure it out,” which is kind of hilarious and that’s when Zabel springs into action. He calls up some woman named Claudette and asks for any dirt she has on this situation. Which now means he’s cosmically linked with Carrie because she was trying to do the same thing last season.

They’ve moved Max’s body inside the house, but Carrie is still sitting there next to him. They’ve removed the bright orange jumpsuit and he’s lying on a small rug, barefoot. Yevgeny wants to know what their next move is. Carrie says she’ll just hang out until special ops comes, then she’ll go back to Kabul with Max. She understands if Yevgeny wants to leave now, before special ops comes, but like the good boyfriend he is, he sits down next to her and asks who this Max guy was anyway.

Carrie’s surprised. She told him everything about her life (!!) but not this? Nope. She goes on: Max was… always there for her. She’s known him forever, and wherever she went, he’d dutifully follow, always by her side. And the reason she never mentioned him is clear now, too. She took him for granted and took advantage of him. And now he’s dead. What a horrifying replay of events. “I’m so sorry, Max,” she sobs. She kneels down next to his body, her hands on his chest, and repeats it, over and over: “I’m so sorry.” Yevgeny comes over to comfort her and she clings to him amid more heaving sobs.

The next day, Hayes has decided on his speech, which—surprise!—is the “cowardly” Linus version, where he just says “let’s do peace.” John Zabel is highly displeased but luckily Claudette has arrived just in time with that dirt he requested. It’s not dirt, but just intel: one of the soldiers at the secret Taliban power struggle meeting last night was actually recording the whole thing. So now they have Jalal on video saying he killed the presidents. Who cares if he’s actually telling the truth!

He races to Hayes to tell him what’s happened and in what language. Hayes is like “fuck, I need a moment,” and that’s when Zabel swoops in with his first draft racist speech and is like, “here ya go!” I’m sorry to say, but this actually seems realistic.

Saul arrives to the base where the special ops team is preparing to retrieve Max (and Carrie). They’re all huddled around a laptop screen opened to Hayes’ speech, which goes something like this:

We got the wrong Haqqani! Oops! Anyway, who’s ready for more war?

The reactions are “Can you believe this shit?” and “Oh, Christ,” which are both extremely relatable!

Linus is once again furious with Zabel.

Linus: What the actual fuck! Zabel: You weren’t here. Actually where were you? Aren’t you the Chief of Staff? Linus: You fucking idiot, we’re on a collision course with a nuclear power. Zabel: Don’t be such a drama queen. Pakistan will back down. Linus: No they won’t, dipshit. Also good job on making Jalal Haqqani a folk hero. He was a nobody 90 seconds ago. You’re pushing us into ANOTHER war that we can’t win. Zabel: See, that’s your problem, bro. You don’t think America can win any war. Anyway, I’m outie. Linus: We’re so fucked.

Saul and the special ops team fly over Carrie and Yevgeny’s location. Carrie tells Yevgeny that she can’t stay out here with him forever, and he’s like, “hmm, are you sure *wink*?” She thanks him and he takes position by his truck with his crew. This is the Carrie/Yevgeny equivalent of dropping someone off at home and waiting until you watch them walk through their front door before leaving.

Saul and the team touch down and retrieve Max’s body. Saul fills Carrie in on the pile of shit that’s happened in the last 48 hours. He hopes she has something to make it less shitty. She reveals she has a lead on the black box but doesn’t elaborate. Saul doesn’t ask any follow-up questions but says they’ll find it together, like old times. She agrees, but asks for no more bullshit about her loyalty, or Mike, or the FBI. She did what she had to do. He promises he’s on her side, but she doesn’t totally believe him.

They’re about to board the helicopter when one of the special ops team members requests to search Carrie. “What?” Carrie says, before realizing she’s surrounded by a special ops team carrying automatic weapons. Saul looks around in disbelief too. Carrie spots plastic cuffs, and it all feels suddenly like a trap. It escalates quickly from there:

Carrie pulls out her gun, quickly backing away, in Yevgeny’s direction. 

Saul tries his best to calm everyone down.

Yevgeny fires his gun to distract them.

Saul pleads with Carrie to come back, it’s all a misunderstanding.

“What, so we can work together?” she spits.

“Yes, I need you.”

“In fucking handcuffs!”

He says he didn’t know. She calls him a liar and runs back toward Yevgeny. Saul, rightfully livid, heads to the helicopter and asks whose genius idea this all was.

Yevgeny, ever the gentleman, opens the car door for Carrie. She turns back and glares at Saul, the perceived betrayal still a stinging wound (on top of everything else), before they drive off. The helicopter lifts off and Saul watches from above as Carrie and Yevgeny speed away. He has a look on his face not too unlike when he left Carrie in Moscow last season (and, come to think of it, this involves a lot of the same people). In the car, Carrie reveals to Yevgeny that she’s also been looking for the flight recorder and that she knows where it is.

Seriously though, something has palpably broken just now, possibly the last shred of trust left between Carrie and Saul. Carrie has been conditioned all season to distrust those who call themselves her friends. Now she’s actually lost her last remaining friend (in the world), bringing a devastating new literal meaning to the phrase “nothing left to lose.” That Carrie could so quickly get to a spot where her handgun is out and she’s ten seconds from Yevgeny’s car says a lot about the distrust and fear just simmering below the surface. That she didn’t hesitate to suspect Saul was in on it reveals just how broken and filled with resentment their relationship now is. And that Saul actually was on her side makes the end result that much more tragic.

#homeland #threnody(s) #an hyh recap #* #by: sara #homeland spoilers #this episode is .... fml

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter One | B.B.

In a world where Bucky never falls off a train and Steve lives after crashing the plane, Bucky is trying to adjust to a new peace-time normal. Spring 1946, Reader starts a brand new typist position in one of the many New York office buildings after being displaced from her factory job once the war ended. An unconventional friendship starts which leads to all the romance and fluff.

Title: All We’ve Got is Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: General Audiences

Word count:1,944

Chapter 1/24

Warnings: Slight peril? But really none, enjoy the set-up😊 

Series Masterlist

Fiddling with the sleeves of your new blouse, you wait for the elevator to reach the sixth floor. You hate yourself for fidgeting but you can’t help it today. This new position is a step up for you, making a good first impression is important. If this doesn’t work out, you don’t know what you’re going to do.

As the doors slide open, you check the waistband of your wide-legged pants once more before approaching the front desk. Seated on a high stool behind the desk is a woman who you would describe as the epitome of prim and proper. Her dark dress buttoned up to her neck, lapels ironed, her hair pulled tight with every strand in place. Behind her are rows and rows of desks, young women flitting around the office, running to offices that line the edge of the bullpen.

“May I help you?” she inquires, her voice stiff.

With a nervous nod you say, “Yes, ma’am. It’s my first day. I’m Paul Anderson’s new typist?”

She hums and flips through a bound book on her desk. “Yes, I see that. I am Miriam Flannery, Office Manager. I oversee every typist and secretary here. Allow me to show you the office before you get started.” Rising, Flannery walks - more like stalks - through the bullpen, doling information out to you in a monotone voice.

The entire eastern wall is covered in windows, bathing the office in gorgeous natural light. At least you weren’t going to be stuck under fluorescent lights in a cave somewhere. That New York City view could cheer anyone up. You had only been here for a few weeks, but the familiarity of the skyline steadies you a bit. Slowly you tune back in to Flannery’s monologue.

“. . they will process your initial paperwork. Here is the mailroom, where you can also retrieve supplies. Next to it is the breakroom, there is coffee and a refrigerator to store your lunch. Here is the filing room, where we store paperwork for all of the corporate offices. Later on, one of the other girls will show you filing protocol.” You barely had a chance to see anything as Mrs. Flannery waved her hands in general directions, keeping a swift pace.

She stops at a desk directly next a window, an office door a few paces off. “This is your desk. You have been provided with a top-of-the-line, brand new Remington Rand typewriter. Please take care of it, the replacement process is not enjoyable.” Flannery turns around sharply, eyeing you from behind thick-framed glasses. “Now a few of my ground rules.”

She holds a finger up, “One: This is a place of business. I expect you to handle yourself with class and decorum at every moment of the day. Vulgarity is frowned upon.” Two fingers are held up, “Two: Punctuality is a necessity in our business. We start on the dot and expect everyone in the office to subscribe to this practice.” A third finger joins, “Three: Personal visitors are prohibited. As I said, this is an office, not a lovers’ lane. Finally: If you do your work and do it well we will not have any issues. Understood?” Though feeling slightly dazed, you nod which seems to satisfy the office manager. “If you have questions, I will be in the reception area.” The tall woman marches back to the front desk, not leaving any room for said questions.

Before you even have a chance to set your handbag down, a short, balding man emerges from the office immediately adjacent to your desk. “Hey there, Betty right?” You politely correct him, honestly believing he was mistaken. “Ah, I get women’s names mixed up all the time. I see long hair and painted face and it all blends together. I’m Paul. Come on in, let’s go over your job duties.”

Ignoring the irritation in your gut you follow him into the smoky office, doing your best to suppress a cough. The space is an obvious homage to Anderson’s glory days. Old sports memorabilia takes up an entire wall, next to which are several framed certificates and plaques. Someone liked for people to be aware of his success. Always a great sign in a superior, right?

You sit in one of the uncomfortable leather chairs in front of his desk while Anderson settles in behind it. After exchanging pleasantries about commutes and weather, he delivers a well-practiced speech about the company, their goals for the fiscal year and quarter, etc. Information you’re already aware of, but must politely nod to as if it was all new.

“The job is pretty simple,” Anderson continues. “Sit in on any meetings I have and take notes. Transcribe letters I dictate to you. Monitor my correspondence. Now, make sure everything is perfect. I get a lot of mail so I expect you to read through everything and let me know when I need to respond. I’ve been told you’re a firecracker, but try to tone that down here. Things are easier on everyone if you keep your thoughts to yourself and do the work. What else is there. . . oh, in my experience, women just make coffee better than us men, so I may ask you to do that from time to time. I think that about covers it. Sometimes things pop up, but I trust you’ll be flexible, yeah?”

“I will do my best, sir.”

“Alrighty!” Anderson stands from his chair, buttoning his jacket. “It’s been nice to meet ya, Ruth. I feel like we’re gonna work well together,” he reaches out for a handshake which you return firmly. Possibly a little too firmly.

“Not Ruth,” you remind him. “But I sure hope so.” You move to leave when Anderson stops you.

“Just a little tip for ya? Try to look more like a lady, sweet-cheeks. Spend your first week’s pay on some new dresses,” your boss adds as he leads you out of his office. Hot blood blazes through your veins and it takes everything in you to give your boss a tight-lipped smile and nod. No matter how much you want to shove all the papers off of his desk and tell him to go to hell, you know this job was too vital. You had to keep in mind that you were lucky to be here at all.

He closes his door and you sigh, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. The clicking of heels alerts you to yet someone else approaching you. Although this sight was far friendlier than the last two. Her fiery red hair was coiffed perfectly in the latest style and her eyes were bright green and warm. She props a hip against your desk, leaning in with a smile.

“You working for Anderson?”

“Sure am.”

“I’m Suzy, I sit right over there,” she gestures to a desk not too far from your own.

You introduce yourself, exchanging a small handshake. “Nice to meet you, Suzy.”

“Word to the wise, he’ll never get your name right no matter how many times you tell him. He just picks a common one and moves on. He knows you’re a typist, but he’ll still ask you to make him coffee, he likes it black in the biggest cup you can find,” Suzy takes in a deep breath, “Everyday at 2:30 he has a phone call with his mistress, so don’t go into his office until 3:15 unless you wanna reason to gouge your eardrums. On Fridays his wife makes him the worst smelling casserole in the world for lunch, so steer clear of him or he’ll try to make you take it. ”

All you manage is a blink. “Did you. . . work for him at some point?”

“Thankfully no, but I’ve watched him fire four typists in the last three months. It’d be nice to have someone stick around for a while.”

That’s encouraging.

“But don’t worry,” she lays a gentle hand on your arm. “If you follow Flannery’s rules, do what Anderson asks, and keep your head down you’ll be fine. Flannery’s a fuddy-duddy, but she’s fair for the most part. I’ve been working here the longest out of any of the girls here, so holler if you need anything. I’ll let ya get settled in.”

The moment Suzy walks away, Anderson pokes his head out, needing you to take notes during a phone call that had just come in. You scurry in with a pad and pencil and furiously take notes of the hour-long phone call. Anderson tasks you with typing up the notes and dealing with information that needs to be forwarded to other retailers and suppliers. Before you know it, it’s lunchtime and the office slowly began to quiet as everyone took their breaks. You hear the chatter of several women in the break-room but you can’t tackle social hour today. From the moment you had stepped in the door you were overwhelmed with massive amounts of information and your brain had almost reached its capacity for processing.

As soon as Anderson leaves his office to attend lunch, you lay your head against the desk, inhaling deeply, hoping to calm yourself. The pile of notes you had taken during your first meeting mocks you, begs to be organized and typed - you know the more time that passes since the meeting, the more confused you’ll be by your own shorthand. You ghost your hands over the nicest typewriter you’ve ever seen, admiring the shiny keys and smooth roll. You insert a sheet of paper and roll it to the correct indentation.

You poise your hands above the keys to begin typing when a dark figure falls outside the window nearest your desk. You let out a small cry, thinking someone must have jumped from the rooftop and was plummeting to the sidewalk below. Leaping from your chair you press your face to the glass, trying to find whomever had jumped. Much to your surprise he was right beneath your windowsill, holding on to the ledge tightly. He was yelling at someone above him, though his words were lost through the thick glass. Though you could imagine the colorful language you’d be using in a similar situation.

Briefly he struggles to gain a foothold against the brick below him, his feet slipping every so often which threatens to take ten years off of your life. Oddly enough, he maintains a cool temperament the whole time, face blank of emotion, fear seemingly nonexistent. Finally he seems stable enough to release one hand from the ledge, reaching down to grab a leather strap dangling from his harness you hadn’t noticed before. Seconds later, the strap is anchored to a rod next to the window. Now that he seems to be out of danger for the time being, you notice an identical leather strap attached to the opposite side of the window - and then the pieces fall into place. Someone had been careless with the window-washer rigging and this man had nearly paid dearly for it. He looks up again, catching sight of you still pressed against the glass, eyes wide with worry.

Then this man has the audacity to smile at you? Like he hadn’t just about plummeted at least fifteen stories to his death? Crystal blue eyes peer up at you beneath dark loose locks of hair hanging over his forehead. Then he gives you a thumbs up - you’re guessing to let you know he’s okay - and he rappels down to the ground floor of the building. And as mysteriously as he drops into your life, he’s gone. You glance around the office, still completely alone.

Well. . . what a first day.

Chapter Two

A/N: Ahhh I cannot believe I’m doing this. Welcome to the beginning of my very first full-blown series as well as my first time foraying into the world that is Bucky Barnes. I tried to keep this to a oneshot, but then 10k turned into 15k and 15k is on it’s way to 20k. . . apparently these guys just have a lot to say. I’m hoping to post once a week on Fridays, schedule permitting. I’ll let you know how many parts there will be as soon as I know, I promise. If you’d like a tag, just let me know!

Now some other people that need attention. . . @ursulaismymiddlename​ for encouraging me to pursue writing Bucky when I feel oh-so-unworthy of this character. @abovethesmokestacks​ for fanning the flame of this idea since I first threw the idea at her in a casual chat. She has literally been here for this from the start and has been the sweetest of soundboards. Pia also created the GORGEOUS above moodboard for this fic. I am not worthy. Then there is my personal hype-woman @barnesrogersvstheworld​ who has read over this fic and listened to me whine and convinced me to turn this into a series rather than jamming it into a oneshot. Love you ladies so much. This wouldn’t exist without you! ❤

Tags: @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #au #beka writes #Typist!Reader #Window Washer!Bucky Barnes x Typist!Reader #Window Washer!Bucky Barnes #All We've Got is Time

[nayutai]

|| Trapped ||

Word Count: 3496

Warnings: BUFF YOONGI!!!, unprotected sex (condoms are great. use them), public sex, cursing, creampie, quickie, nipple biting....I think that’s it

A/N: This is part of the BTS Smut Club Secret Santa Project and I’m so happy that I got to participate! Thanks for reading ♥

“Babe, is all of this really necessary?” I ask playfully as Yoongi adjusts his ladder in order to put the star topper on the massive tree he’d insisted on getting to celebrate our first Christmas together as a married couple. A 15-foot behemoth of a tree – artificial because neither of us has a desire to clean up pine needles – taking up half of our foyer isn’t exactly ideal but Yoongi had been so excited about it that I just couldn’t turn him down. You would think that the fact that we’re not even spending Christmas in Korea would’ve deterred him but he didn’t even think twice about it.

“It’s Christmas, you scrooge. Of course, it’s necessary.” I can’t see his face from where I sit on the couch, but the incredulous tone in his voice tells me everything I need to know. We’ve been together long enough that at this point I can tell if he’s coming down with a cold simply by the sound of his voice – it always drops half an octave before he shows his first symptom – so I’m willing to bet my sanity he’s wearing the same expression he usually gives Jin when his former roommate tells one of his corny jokes. The look that says, “you idiot”.

“Have you even finished packing yet?” I ask, bringing up once again his lack of luggage by the door, hoping that his answer will be different than what I feel in my chest that it will be. Yoongi’s large hands freeze around the golden star they’re fiddling with. My eyes narrow in on the way the tips of his ears slowly start turning red. This man has spent the entire day decorating a Christmas tree we won’t even be here to enjoy but he hasn’t finished packing for the week-long trip we’ve been planning for months. Fantastic. Our flight leaves in just over twenty-four hours and my precious husband is behaving like it leaves in twenty-four days. Fantastic. “Min Yoongi you get off that ladder right now and pack your fucking bags.”

Yoongi sighs deeply but stubbornly continues to fiddle with the tree topper as I glare at the side of his face. He takes his sweet time descending the ladder and even longer to fold it up and lean the piece of equipment against the wall. I raise my eyebrow at his grumbling form as he walks past the couch towards the stairs. A mischievous giggle escapes me as I kick my leg out, hitting him squarely on the ass. That little trick earns me an upturned middle finger and as he shuffles up the stairs like a grumpy twelve-year-old who’s been sent to clean his room.

I jog up the stairs after him a few minutes later to check his progress. I’m not entirely surprised to see him curled up in the middle of our bed next to his open suitcase and a pile of clothes. He’s so concentrated on whatever he’s scrolling through on his phone that he doesn’t even register the fact that I’ve entered the room until it’s too late. The sudden sound of me yelling nearly sends him flying headfirst off the side of our bed.

“Jesus Christ! I knew you wanted me dead.” He says dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know that Holly is the beneficiary on all of my life insurance policies so killing me is useless.” I don’t even dignify his foolishness with a response. Instead, I set about packing his suitcases myself since Yoongi obviously can’t be bothered. He tosses in his favorite pajama set but leaves the bulk of the work to me while whining about how I should rub his shoulders since he spent all day decorating a tree that he wanted. I pointedly ignore him and continue packing because I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to him complain about forgetting something because he threw whatever he could touch in a bag at the last minute.

*   *   *

The hustle and bustle of the Incheon airport is like music to my ears as I practically bounce through the sparsely populated hallway leading to the private entrance. Yoongi is hot on my heels. The two of us are dressed as if we’ve just stepped off the runway for New York Fashion Week and not like we’re about to sit on a plane for thirteen hours. Being in BTS means that Yoongi is accustomed to putting a little extra effort into his airport attire, a habit that I was only too happy to join in on as it gives me the excuse to get all dressed up.

However, Yoongi’s airport outfit of choice for today has been giving me some…issues. He’s dressed in all black which is far from unusual for my husband. It’s the way he’s chosen to present his monochromatic ensemble that is at the root of my problem. The turtleneck layered under a leather jacket and tucked into a pair of ripped jeans makes a dark heat pool in my abdomen. Even the way he’s walking is sending shivers down my spine as I stealthily eye his borderline arrogant gait in the reflective glass that lines the hallway.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Min.” The attendant says with an oversized smile on her face. “Your flight will be boarding within the next two hours. The private waiting room you booked will be directly off to your right.”

She hands Yoongi and I each a matte black key card with the name of the airport and the number three embossed across the front. It’s heavy and surprisingly smooth to the touch which means the small square in my hand probably costs more than the Gucci bag Yoongi is carrying. The attendant gives us a short spiel on the amenities included in the private waiting room before sending us on our way.

“A private waiting room? Really, babe?” I question playfully as we make our way towards the row of doors in search of number three. Yoongi snorts in response.

“My name is on two number one albums on the billboard chart and a Grammy nomination.” He says, waving the key card in front of the sensor next to the door when we reach or destination. “I deserve this luxury.”

“That you do, babe.” I throatily whisper into his ear when the door smoothly slides open to allow us to enter. He cocks an eyebrow at me and I know he’s on to me.

A decent sized lounge chair is pulling double duty as a bed against one wall with a small desk and chair off to the left. A mini fridge stocked with drinks sits in the corner at the end of the desk, a basket of snacks sitting on top of it. I fiddle with the touch screen next to the door until the space is bathed in low light. I notice that there is a Bluetooth icon on the main screen so I start the pairing process, selecting a specific song from my library once it’s successful and putting it on repeat. Yoongi inhales sharply behind me as the first few strains of House of Cards come through the speakers.

“Turn this shit off right now.” He grumbles as I turn to face him. His fists are balled up at his sides as he shifts where he sits on the edge of bed.

Ironically enough, House of Cards was playing the first time we ever had sex. Somehow it became our mood over the years so now it’s like our code word to say “I want to have sex right now. Let’s bone.” It’s gotten to the point that now whenever Yoongi hears it, he gets a raging erection whether I was the one who turned it on or not. He’s like one of Pavlov’s dogs. A cursory glance at the crotch of his insufferably tight jeans gives his condition away. I lick my lips as I quietly observe the growing bulge between his legs.

“God damn you, woman.” He curses as he practically lunges at me. A victorious giggle passes my lips as he attaches his lips to my neck with a ferocity that has flames licking at my nerve endings. His large hands knead my ass cheeks through the thin fabric of my leggings. He’s being so rough that for a second I’m worried he might actually rip them. Yoongi has been hitting the gym lately and sometimes forgets that he’s a bit stronger than he used to be.

He surprises me when he suddenly drops to his knees in front of me. His hands fumble around with the zippers of my knee-high boots while he keeps his mouth busy by running his tongue over my clothed center. He helps me out of my boots and makes quick work of my leggings, carelessly tossing them over his shoulder.

The oversized sweater I’m wearing hides the fact that I’ve forgone panties today. For a second I’m sure he’s going to collapse when he realizes that fact when he slides his hands beneath the maroon fabric that hangs just past my ass. His face is flushes and he looks like he might be on the verge of a heat stroke.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He shoots to his feet so fast his head nearly connects with my chin. His hands shake as he undoes his belt and unzips his pants. He sighs contently when he finally frees himself from his pants. I start to sink to my knees when he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

My jaw drops in shock when Yoongi grabs me by the back of my thighs to lift me up against the wall. For the entirety of our relationship before this moment, Yoongi has never picked me up before. I’ve always been too heavy for him to lift.

“This,” he grunts in my ear as he covers his rigid length in my wetness. “this is why I started going to the gym.” Your head falls back against the wall with a low thud as he bumps against my engorged clit repeatedly.

Frustrated with his god awful teasing, I shift my hips just enough for the first inch or so to slide inside me on his next pass. Yoongi freezes for a second before he’s ramming as much of himself as he can inside me. The feeling of finally being filled is second to none. I’m given hardly any time to adjust to him before he’s pulling his hips back only to roughly surge forward again.

My nails search for purchase on the leather jacket that he has yet to take off. A lightning bolt of pride shoots through me as I realize my husband wanted me so bad that he couldn’t even wait long enough to take his jacket off to get to me. A particularly hard thrust has me biting down on my own fingers to keep from screaming. I may have turned the music on louder than necessary but even that isn’t going to drown me out.

“You fucking wanted this, baby girl. Now take it.” Yoongi grunts into the crook of my neck as he sucks and bites at the skin there.

My orgasm is approaching fast. Almost too fast if you ask me. My bra and sweater that were somehow left on now feel like they’re suffocating me. Between the fire that burns in my lungs and the fire that burns where Yoongi and I are connected, I feel like I’m about to explode. I claw uselessly at the bulky fabric covering my torso in attempt to get some air.

Yoongi shoves my sweater up over my breasts. He bends his head down to drag his tongue along the tops of my breasts before freeing them from my bra. His lips are wrapped around one of my erect nipples faster than I can draw in a shaky breath to prepare myself. A high-pitched whine claws its way out of my throat when he lightly bites down on my nipple. He laves the sting with tongue, tilting his head up to kiss along my upturned jaw. His strokes have slowed down to an almost lazy cadence. He switches over to the breast he’d been neglecting as his hips pick up speed again.

“Shit, Yoongi I-” As if he senses what I’m about to say, he reaches between us to press the rough pads of his fingers against my clit. That slight touch turns out to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. My back arches obscenely as every muscle in my body tries to pull me in a different direction. A truly creative string of curses flies out of Yoongi’s mouth as my inner muscles seize around him. He plows into me a dozen more times before a pained groan falls from his pretty lips as he empties himself into me.

He leans his sweaty forehead against mine, staring into my eyes as we both work to regain our breath. I pepper gentle kisses all over his flushed face. Yoongi hums deep in his throat and leans into my affections. Our lips connect for the first time since we locked ourselves in this glorified closet. I wince slightly as his softening length slips from me. A grimace covers my face as the evidence of our activities leaks from abused core. I forgot just how gross this feels.

Yoongi thankfully finds some wipes in a cabinet on the other side of the bed that we hadn’t even noticed. We do what we can with the crotch of his pants and pray that his crotch won’t be stained from the unholy mix of fluids that they came in contact with.

*   *   *

We’re basking in the afterglow of our quickie when a crackling noise scares the shit out of us. Apparently, these private cabins have intercom systems for airport personnel to communicate with people in the waiting rooms.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Min!” The cheery female voice says through the speaker. “My name is Jae, the first-class liaison. Your flight will begin boarding in approximately 15 minutes. Please leave drop your key cards in the designated slot next to the control panel and I will escort you to the first class waiting area.” We move about the room collecting our carry-ons. I take care of the keycards while Yoongi dumps the contents of the snack basket into his bag for “safekeeping”.

I tap the icon labeled “open door” on the touchscreen but nothing happens. Thinking that maybe it requires a heavier hand, I press my finger harder against the screen. Still no results. I frantically stab my finger against the lit screen as if that will unfreeze the system.

“Fuck! Yoongi, it won’t open.”

“What do you mean it won’t open?” Yoongi pokes at the screen repeatedly just as I did with the same outcome. “I wanna go to Bora Bora dammit.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Min? Is there an issue.” We jump at the sound of the intercom once more. In our panic, we forgot the woman on the other side of the door waiting on us.

She walks us through some troubleshooting steps over the intercom and even tries to open the door using the emergency exit handle but, apparently, it’s stuck too. After finally concluding that there’s nothing that she personally can do to get us out, we can hear her calling for a technician through the door. From the exasperated noise she makes, whoever she called did not give her good news about her situation.

“I deeply apologize but the technician assigned to this airport is off duty for the night. We can call in a technician from another airport but it’ll be at least a two hour wait.” She informs us as we have absolute meltdowns inside our waiting area. There’s no way we’re going to make our flight now. Jae leaves us for a moment to go input the work order and call in technician.

In the corner of my eye, I see Yoongi slowly turn his head to glare at me. His stare is threatening to burn a hole in the side of my face.

“I hate you so much.” He says. “All this because you wanted some dick.”

“Don’t put this all on me. No one told you to fuck me against the wall like a Neanderthal, you bitch.” I return his glare as we stand toe to toe, waiting for the other to back down.

The tension between us snaps like a rubberband as we dissolve into laughter. We quite literally fucked up the control panel for our waiting room and got ourselves locked in. You can’t make this shit up.

“Well…we may as well get comfortable.” Yoongi says as he digs around in his bag for a snack as he situates himself on the bed. I make myself comfortable between his outstretched legs, leaning back against his chest as I tear open the bag of chips he offers me.

Though I didn’t wish for it to happen this way, being able to spend this time with Yoongi is exactly what I needed. He’s been so busy working this year that moments like these have been few, far, and in between since we came back from our honeymoon in June. It’s nice to just sit here, eat chips with my husband, and listen to him talk.

We’re so deep in our own little world that we almost don’t notice that two hours have passed. Our easily frightened asses cling to each other when Jae’s voice suddenly blares out of the intercom again informing us that the technician has arrived to get us out. It takes all of fifteen minutes for the technician to reset the system and free us from the cabin.

Jae immediately launches into a damage control spiel. According to Ms. First Class Liaison, the airport is taking full responsibility for us missing our flight by refunding the cost of our plane tickets and the private waiting room to Yoongi’s card. It has also been arranged for us to use the airport owner’s own personal jet to get to Bora Bora. The two of us stand there in shock because we know that the airport bears no liability for us getting stuck but we sure as hell aren’t telling them that.

“Did that really just happen?” I ask Yoongi as we wait in the first class boarding area for the jet to be brought around.

“It did now be quiet before someone hears us and takes the money back.” He whispers as he glances around to make sure no one is near us.

“You should buy me something pretty with the money since it was my butt sweat that secured the bag.” I joke under my breath.

“I’ll be sure to do that, babe and I’ll start with some self-control and a rational thought process.” His gummy smile makes an appearance as he uses his bag to block my fists.

“Asshole. Rational thought would’ve been not fucking me against the wall.” He waves me off before digging in his bag for another snack.

“Whatever. You loved it.” I ignore him, scrolling through Facebook as we continue to wait. According to the two women manning, the desk our plane is next in line to pull up to the hanger for us to board so it shouldn’t be too much longer.

“Does this make us prostitutes?” Yoongi asks totally out of the blue. I open and close my mouth several times as I try to figure out how to respond to his question.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“We basically got paid to have sex. Doesn’t that make us prostitutes?” His face is scrunched up in thought as he continues to eat his snack. His point makes logical sense but I’m not letting him know that. This is the craziest question he’s ever asked me and he once asked me how my hair grew so fast overnight because I showed up at the dorms in a wig longer than the one I’d worn the day before.

“I-…please never speak to me again.” He chuckles lowly before tossing a chip at my head and laughing when it gets stuck in my curls.

*   *   *

Bora Bora is just as beautiful as I imagined it would be. The weather is amazing, though a little rainy. Getting here may have been more hectic than we’d planned for it to be but sitting on the beach with Yoongi as we watch the sun set beyond the horizon is worth all the hassle. I turn to admire his elegant side profile as he tips his back, eyes closed as he breathes in the salty air. His hair is wet from the time spent frolicking around in the waves and slicked back from his forehead. I can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss his temple.

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

#btssmutclub #BSCproject #hyunglinenetwork #min yoongi #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader

[pointy-hat-witch]

Title: The Magic Song Series: KiriBakuWeek2019 Show: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Kirishima/Bakugou Summary:  Cinderella AU | Eirijou works as a servant at the royal castle and one day his hair turned red. That screams for stupid ideas. A/N: Collection of works for KiriBakuWeek 2019. First time writing KiriBaku, they deserve so much love. Ha.

You can read chapter 2 on AO3 if you want to! :)

In record time, Eijirou thought he never ran this fast, he sprinted down the small space between the barracks and the castle walls, shot through the next door inside the east wing and ran towards the servants' sleeping chambers. Fortunately for him, most servants were either occupied by the still ongoing banquet or were already in their rooms.

When he arrived at his door, he jerked it open and closed it immediately after he entered, leaning against the cold wood and catching his breath. His heart was still pounding against his rib cage, he thought it would crack through the bones.

“Eijirou!” Mina jumped to her feet followed by Hanta, Denki nowhere to be seen.

Eijirou slowly slid down the door, huffing out a small whimper and buried his face in his knees. His friends were by his side right then, grabbing his shoulder.

“W-what happen? You were gone for so long!” Mina cried out, voice cracking with emotion.

“You’re covered in dirt, what the hell?” Hanta examined his attire, dusting off the slowly drying mud from his arms and shins.

“So many people… questions… prince… swords…” Eijirou pressed between tight lips. He grasped at his hair, groaning.

“What?! Slow down, what happened?!” Mina, slowly losing her patience, shook a little more insistent at his shoulder. Eijirou groaned again, trying to order his thoughts himself. Hanta, an angel in disguise, held Mina’s arm and shook his head.

“Let the man breathe, he just needs a minute.”

“Maybe we don’t have a minute!” Mina countered. “Eijirou, are you being followed? Did the prince send someone after you?” Eijirou shook his head against his knees and only then Mina allowed herself to calm down. She let go of his shoulder and sat down next to him, Hanta following her example, all three with their backs against the door.

Eijirou drew his breaths in and out, slowly regaining control of his emotions. He let go of his hair and leaned his head against the door, blinking at the ceiling as if he just realized where he was.

“There were-“, his voice broke and he had to clear his throat, “there were so many people, asking me all this stuff we thought up in advance and at first everything was fine. I just wanted to eat something and then leave, that would be enough. I was so afraid some of the servants would recognize me.” He groaned again just imagining that.

“And then”, he blinked, swallowing, “the prince was there. I was introduced. To the prince. As a noble. To the prince. Guys, I talked to the prince! The prince of this very kingdom. Me!” His eyes sprung back and forth between Mina and Hanta, growing more and more erratic as he spoke.

Hanta put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “Did he notice something?”

“I… I don’t think so.” Eijirou inhaled. “We talked just a little bit, I think I offended him.” He laughed dryly. “I thought I was going to die right that moment, oh my god. And then, and then, the queen walked over. Guys, the queen!” He buried his face again in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief that had really happened.

“I panicked and ran. Just straight into the crowd. I wanted to leave but then those nobles came and, hell, I talked my mouth off, guys, I don’t even remember anymore what I was rambling about. But they were laughing, that’s good I guess.”

Mina chuckled slightly. “Leave it to Eijirou, the humble servant boy making the nobles laugh in the face of his own death.”

“Not funny!” Eijirou wailed. “But then, the prince was there. Just, appeared out of nowhere, grabbed my arm and took me outside. I almost hugged him. I mean, I was so fucking terrified but I was finally outside. And then.” Eijirou stared at the ground, tilting his head in thoughts.

“We… sparred?”

“You what?” Hanta and Mina said in unison.

“We… He took some wooden swords, gave me one and then we fought? I don’t know guys, that was so surreal I don’t even know.” He shrugged helplessly. “For like half an hour? Then he beat me, obviously, and said something about taking a bath and how filthy we are and that my hair looked almost black.” He gestured vaguely at his hair that was, in fact, back to his original black color.

“And then I bolted. Just straight away. And here I am.”

Mina huffed out a breath, opening and closing her mouth, changing whatever she wanted to say every second.

“At least he doesn’t know who you really are.” Hanta said with a shrug. “Could be worse.”

“Worse? I insulted the prince and fought with him on equal terms! As if impersonating a noble wasn’t bad enough, but behaving like that in front of the crown prince? I am a dead man walking.”

“Geez, drama queen, relax.” Mina patted his shoulder with a little too much force, making him wince. “I think, that was a successful evening.” She grinned at him.

“How so?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, you talked to nobles, ate their food, talked to the prince, who spent time with you alone”, she wiggled her eyebrows at that, “and nobody found out.” She clapped her hands in conclusion.

“I…”, Eijirou sighed. “I mean, you’re not wrong. But I won’t do that again. Ever.” He huffed, crossing his arms.

Denki entered the chambers shortly after that conversation, or at least, tried to since they were all still sitting in front of the door, holding it close. He got a short recap of what transpired, made an equal conclusion as Mina and Eijirou just sighed in defeat. He let them believe, that this was a success but insisted that he won’t do it again. He shoved the strange pot under his bed, hopefully forgetting about it soon enough.

The first two days were hell. Eijirou was so paranoid, he couldn’t sleep, made simple mistakes at work and was just a total wreck. The third day was a lot better. He finally could sleep a few hours at a time and didn’t jump at anyone who called him. On the fourth day, he accepted that nothing would happen. He was fine.

He sat in the kitchen on a low wooden stool, helping to peel the potatoes. A tedious, ungrateful work nobody liked doing, but Eijirou liked to rise to the occasion and took on the task. Half of the basket was peeled, half of them not. He craned his neck, rolling his shoulder with a loud crack and started on the next potato when he overheard the two cooks at the oven next to him.

“Another banquet next week? What are they thinking?”

“I don’t know, man. They decided yesterday and now we have to get all the ingredients in time. I think they don’t understand this fucking job. We can’t just make a list with everything we need.”

“But why another one so soon? Aren’t they, like, just for show? Showing off their money and stuff like that?”

As they spoke, Eijirou listened with half an ear, he didn’t care about another banquet since it didn’t concern him, a servant walked up and filled his tray with snacks. He chimed in without hesitation.

“I heard it was a request by the prince himself.” The cooks’ head whipped around. “No kidding. Something about internal affairs or something like that. Strengthening the bond between their juris… jurisdi… the different regions within the kingdom.” He shrugged. “I think they said something about inviting every noble family from the Chiba region.”

Eijirou let his knife fall down, clattering loudly on the ground. He blinked and grabbed at it, apologizing under his breath. A cold sweat broke out on his back, his heartbeat increasing.

“Rumors have it he is looking for…” Eijirou slowly looked up to the servant, trying to hear better what he was saying and their eyes met.

“You!” The servant inhaled sharply. Eijirou sprung to his feet, grabbed the servant by the collar and yanked him outside. The tray fell to the ground with a loud clatter, probably everyone looked up at the commotion but Eijirou was already out the door, pushing the servant inside a small broom closet. It was big enough for two people, but they still had to stay so close to each other their knees brushed.

“What the-“ – “Shhh!” Eijirou covered the servant’s mouth with his hands, frantically shaking his head. The servant gave a slow nod and Eijirou lowered his hand.

“Holy shit, dude! You’re the one… the one with the prince! You said thanks! I knew it, no noble could be that nice.” He chuckled in disbelief while Eijirou was regretting every life choice he ever made, ticking off every option he had to survive this.

“Dude, chill! I won’t tell on you!”

Eijirou’s eyes focused back on the other servant. “You won’t?” He croaked.

“No, man. That is just… wait, what exactly were you doing there?”

“I… I don’t know, something like a bet and it went out of hand and ugh.” Eijirou slapped a hand on his forehead.

“I think the prince is looking for you.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know how much you hear down here, but the prince and the mysterious red-haired noble are the talks of the castle! Like, everybody saw how you and the prince left together and he came back alone, raging. Geez, I mean, I knew how much a storm he could curse but that was from a higher level.” He crossed his arm, shaking his head.

“And now he demanded another banquet, asking specifically for the nobles of the Chiba region, dude, he has it bad for you.” A grin spread on his face and in every other situation he would be overjoyed at the sight of the same row of pointy teeth but right now, his ears were ringing.

“Wh—No! We… we just—” He shook his head. “We were just talking and fighting.”

“Fighting, huh?” The servant wiggled his eyebrows at him. Before Eijirou could interject, the servant held up a hand. “Relax, man. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a single soul, promise. I’m rooting for you, for whatever thing is happening between you and him.”

“The is nothing happe—”

“If you want to, I can be your ears and eyes inside the castle.” He nodded at himself. “I let you know if I overhear more about this occasion.”

“But… No, man, I mean, thanks. Thanks for not telling anybody and all that. But I don’t… I’m not doing that again.” Eijirou shook his head. “If anybody else will find out, I’m dead. Like, literally dead.”

The servant rolled his head from one shoulder to the other and hummed. “I get it.” He nodded. “Okay, I tell you what. Just listen, for now, okay?” Eijirou nodded reluctantly.

“Like I said, everybody is talking about it. Like, all the servants that were present and even the personal maids from the prince. Something like he is nicer to them or something. I think, he really likes you. And like every servant has an easier time with him being not his usual grumpy self. So, I’m totally rooting for you.” He shrugged. “My suggestion is the following: I tell the other servants about you, just the ones who saw you at the banquet. You will attend the next banquet and we’ll help you out. And then you two can live happily ever after. Or just have a nice evening, don’t care. Just think of something that you can’t see him again after that.”

Eijirou was baffled. That was the most ridiculous, preposterous, ingenious idea if he ever heard one.

“Everyone would be on board?” His thoughts were running a mile a second. If he could attend one more banquet and somehow make a possible excuse that he won’t come back ever again the prince would have to let this go and he would never live in fear again.

“Of course! Like I said, we’re rooting for you!” He snapped his fingers right in front of their faces, remembering something. “I’m Tetsutetsu, by the way.”

“Eijirou”, Eijirou mumbled perplexed.

“You gave him your real name?” Tetsutetsu raised an eyebrow at him but chuckled slightly at first, then louder. Eijirou had to cover his mouth again, shushing him.

“Sorry”, Tetsutetsu whipped a happy tear away. “This is the best. I like you, man. You have balls.” He nodded again, gripping at Eijirou’s hand. “You in?”

Eijirou’s eyes darted around from Tetsutetsu’s face to his hand to his grin. He inhaled deeply, grabbed his hand as tight as possible and nodded. “Alright.”

As soon as they left the broom closet and Tetsutetsu sprinted back to the kitchen, remembering that he was just in the middle of serving food, Eijirou took to his heels and ran the whole length of the east wing down the same corridor a few days ago and just kicked in the door to Denki’s workplace.

“WHA--!” Denki threw the small flask he had in his hand in the air startled and just barely caught it. “What in the?!”

His head whipped around and narrowed his eyes at Eijirou. “Dude, don’t make me lose my job by destroying my ingredients.”

“S-sorry.” Eijirou stammered, honestly embarrassed.

“What’s going on?” Denki chirped, already forgiving Eijirou. The latter sat down on the other wooden stool, sighing.

“You won’t believe this.” He shook his head. “There will be another banquet next week and I’ll be attending.”

“You what?!” Denki sprung to his feet, hands on Eijirou’s shoulders. A wide grin spreading over his face, he nodded enthusiastically. “Knew you’d come around. How come?”

Eijirou briefly summarized his conversation with Tetsutetsu and their plan before he took a deep breath and stared at Denki, chewing on his lips. “What do you think?”

“That is probably the worst and best plan I have ever heard!”

“That’s what I thought!”

They burst into a small laughing fit, wheezing. Denki held his side, rubbing over his eyes. “Okay, dude, we need to make a plan. We need”, he fumbled over his desk, grabbing for some ink and paper and started scribbling as he spoke, “Mina needs to give you some more clothes, you can’t wear the same from last time. We need to gather enough information about other families in Chiba, so you actually play a believing part to be from that jurisdiction. We need to maybe polish your overall appearance a little, like”, he gestured a circle around Eijirou’s face with his quill, “maybe some powder, new hairstyle.”

Eijirou couldn’t even close his mouth as Denki spoke. When did his friend became so proactive and even had some really good advice? He shook his head to bring himself back to the moment and then nodded. “Y-yeah, sounds good!”

“And you have to learn to speak a little more proper!” Denki actually chided but still grinning. “Though, the prince seemed to like you nonetheless, so…” He trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t really know. Being yourself seemed to be the best course, I guess.”

The next days were pure stress. Not only because every servant was involved in the preparations for the banquet since it was on such short notice. The chambers had to be prepared for the guests, clothes, tablecloths and draperies had to be washed, food had to be harvested and bought and hunted, dished had to be polished, the floors had to be mopped and so on. It was a little miracle, no one has dropped dead yet.

When it was only two days until the banquet, they had a little bit f time to breathe. Most of the tasks were fulfilled, there will be another rush the next day but for now, Eijirou could actually work on their other plan.

Mina had gathered some different garments while washing clothes, slowly piling it up. Eijirou didn’t know how she could get away with it, but he suspected the other wash maiden had heard about his ordeal as well and helped out. In fact, probably everybody had heard about it by now, judging by all the knowing looks he got.

Tetsutetsu pulled him aside a few times to give an update, but nothing noteworthy has changed. Nobody has heard any other reason for the banquet to be held but the personal maids are still recounting pleasant encounters with the prince.

So, when Eijirou had the opportunity, he grabbed all the clothes Mina had gathered, shoved the mystical jug into his pocket and sneaked outside, up to the river stream. He knew Mina could help him a lot more but Eijirou wanted to try out some stuff himself. He had relied on his friends so much the last week, he wanted to lift some of their burdens.

He hid behind the trees next to the river, folded out his clothes and smeared some of the substance into his hair. It was strange how the pot never seemed to become emptier. But who was he to question some magical pot of hair dying substance?

The next step was to come up with an acceptable outfit with his limited choices and a new hairstyle.

--

The two days after the banquet, Bakugou was just furious. Outstandingly furious. He snapped at everything and everyone, making them stay out of his way altogether. It was better for everyone involved. He was outraged, to be just ditched like that. What was Kirishima thinking who he was? He was just a lowly noble, just recently established and then he ditched him, the prince?

It was both infuriating and humiliating. He knew he wasn’t the most amiable person to ever exist, but he thought that Kirishima didn't mind because, well, he didn’t evade him because of it and could actually hold a conversation without licking the ground he was walking on. It was… nice. To talk to someone without being held to the standards of a prince, to just be a man.

Nevertheless, he ditched him. Just after they had the most exciting sparring fight he had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? Did he say something? Did he insult him by kicking him in the mud? It could be all three possibilities.

After he finally got himself out of his self-pity, Bakugou at first thought about just forgetting about Kirishima. They would probably never meet again. That was okay. He didn’t need him. Then, when he was being dressed by his maids, Bakugou wasn’t sure why but something Kirishima had said popped up in his head, he looked down at the maids, observing their movements, and asked:

“Should I”, the maids’ heads jerked up in alarm as they heard him growling, “stay differently, so you can reach better?” He was one head and a half taller than them and they often had to stretch to their toes to reach his shoulder or even get a stool to stand on. The next few seconds were filled with silence, nobody moving, until Bakugou’s face moved back into his usual scowl.

“Could you”, the maid behind his back quietly piped up, “hold up your arms, your Highness?”

The other maids held their breaths, staring at Bakugou to see his reaction. He nodded sharply and held up his arms as he was asked. The maids exchanged some confused looks but didn’t question his behavior. As they dressed him, the other maids started to request some simple posture changings which he did without complaining. Dressing took less time than usual.

“Thanks.” He mumbled when they hurried out the room and they made their curtsies with small smiles to their faces. Huh.

The next day, he paid attention. To the waiting staff, the errand boys, the servants, the gardeners. And, as Kirishima said, no one paid them any mind, not even half a glance. They just did all the work without complaining, not one hurtful glare against someone who bumped into them or dirtied the hallway just a second after it was cleaned. Maybe, just maybe, there was some truth in what Kirishima had said.

The day after that, he walked inside the chambers of his mother first thing in the morning. He didn’t care that the guards advised against just walking in without announcing himself but he ignored them in Bakugou-fashion. He kicked the door in without knocking, his mother jerking from her bed. His father kept on snoring next to her.

“Mother.” He growled.

“Son.” His mother slowly rose, glaring at him. “What could be so important for my precious son to wake his mother from her well-earned sleep in this manner?”

Bakugou had to bite back some inappropriate remark, biting his lower lip. “I want you to hold a banquet. For me.”

Well, that stunned his mother to silence. “You what?”

He rolled his eyes, hard. She didn’t have to make such deal out of it. Sure, he never ever asked for a social event he had to attend, especially not in his name.

“You heard me. A banquet. Like the monthly thing. Just, make it for internal affairs. Reinforcing the friendship between the castle and the jurisdiction of the Chiba prefecture.”

“Internal—Katsuki, who are you?” His mother grinned at him. “Or is this about a certain red-haired man?”

“I—No!” Bakugou spat. “What the fuck, mom?” He groaned. “I actually act like the prince you always wanted and then you make it about something stupid like that? Just. Do it.” His lips tightened in a straight line. “Please.”

Mitsuki had to blink a few times to register what her son had just said. She knew when to push and when to just shut up, she was the one who raised him, after all.

“Sure thing, Katsuki.”

Bakugou nodded and stormed out her sleeping chambers without saying anything else, seething. That took a lot of his energy. The next days were pretty similar to his usual routine. Classes, sparring, dinner, and lunch. However, since he actually paid attention to their personal, he saw the strained faces, the hectic in their movements and the hurried gestures. It probably wasn’t easy to prepare such a huge banquet on such short notice.

Bakugou actually felt, what audacity his feelings had these days, guilty. Guilty for putting so much pressure on them on top of their usual workload. So, when he happened to overhear some of the servants talking about the menu, what kind of proteins they still needed, he asked them, if it would help if he hunted down a deer.

The looks he got were always like a punch to his gut. Was it really so strange to ask if they needed help? Well, yeah, he answered himself, he never did in the past 19 years he had lived here. Nor knew he about anybody else who did.

That was why he now was riding down the cobblestone path behind the castle walls towards the forest, the royal hunting grounds. The bow was fastened at his saddle for now until he arrived at the forest, a quiver on his belt. Even though there was some pressure of time, Bakugou was relieved to get out of the castle again. He steered his horse down from the paved way and rode towards the small river that streamed parallel to the path towards the forest.

His horse strode leisurely, not stopping but taking its time to walk through the high grass of the riverbed. Bakugou led his view drift into the distance, relaxing for the first time since a few days. A red do next to a cluster of trees drew its attention to him. He squinted and stopped his horse, one hand on the handle of his hunting knife. He silently cursed himself that he didn’t bring his sword, but what good would a sword do at a hunt anyway?

After observing the red dot for a few seconds, Bakugou noticed it was moving just slightly back and forth to the river and back to the trees. It seemed human alright. With a swift motion, he got off his horse and gestured the horse to stay put. They knew each other for long enough so it understood. Bakugou drew his knife and silently sneaked up to the patch of trees, squatting down to get a better view through the branches. And what a view he got.

Kirishima only wore his pants, open at the front. His chest was bare, seeing the dark happy trail from the navel down and Bakugou could finally confirm that he was built. Like a wall. His hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, a few strands framing his face. His mouth was pulled in a frown as he grabbed one of the shirts laying on the ground and put it on. Kirishima tucked the shirt in, tugging on it for good measure and walked towards the river to look at his reflection.

Bakugou felt his face heat up, his heart accelerating its beating. He wasn’t a peeping tom so he put his knife away, stood up straight and cleared his throat.

Kirishima spun around so fast, he almost lost his footing, stumbling violently before catching himself and leveling his eyes on Bakugou. His cheeks rose in color ever so lightly, but Bakugou decided to ignore it for now.

“Y-Your Highness?” Kirishima croaked, fumbling with his clothes, tugging at his hair, a nervous wreck some would say.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bakugou crossed his arms. Even if he was in no position to judge, this was still inside the castle walls, somewhere far away for people to see, so why would Kirishima sneak around to try on his clothes?

“I- uhm”, Kirishima stammered, slowly walking towards the shirts that were laying on the ground to obscure Bakugou’s view on them, kicking at them with his heel to gather them up. Bakugou raised his eyebrow at that.

“I was…”, Kirishima looked over his shoulder, biting so hard on his lip Bakugou thought it would draw blood and sighed in defeat. “I was looking for something to wear for the banquet.”

“You’re coming?” Bakugou could just hope he didn’t sound as eager as he felt.

“Well, yeah”, Kirishima shrugged. “Your Highness invited all noble families of the Chiba jurisdiction, would be kinda impolite to not attend, I guess?” The first smile from him finally stretched over his face.

“You’re damn right.” Bakugou scoffed. Then his eyes drove over Kirishima, finally looking at the outfit Kirishima wore. “That looks fucking hideous.”

“What, really?” Kirishima frowned, looking down at himself. “I was pretty confident in this.” Bakugou huffed a small laughter, covering it with a cough. With two big steps, he was right beside Kirishima who looked at him with big eyes. Trying to ignore his gaze on him, Bakugou eyed the different shirts, pants and the two vests. Not exactly the wardrobe of a noble.

“Why for fuck’s sake are you dressing up in the middle of the royal castle walls?” He grumbled. There was no heat in his words, he realized that himself already, just curiosity. Kirishima coughed, scratching his neck. He kneeled down to his shirts, pulling at their hems.

“Well, I”, Kirishima bit his lips. Bakugou subconsciously filed it under a nervous tick. “I don’t have that much to choose from.” He silently said, chuckling dryly. It didn’t fit him. “It’s not much and I have to dress myself. Something Your Highness probably isn’t used to.” A wink at him and Bakugou didn’t know if his cheeks heated up in humiliation or embarrassment.

“Fuck off.” He huffed as he squatted down as well and earned a more earnest chuckle. “At least I know that this shirt”, he jabbed a finger against Kirishima’s firm chest, “doesn’t fit your pants.”

“But the pants are nice, aren’t they?!” Kirishima cried out in mocking despair.

“They are.” Bakugou grunted. He pulled at some of the shirts, eyes going back and forth between the shirts and Kirishima's black pants until they settled on a white shirt with a puffy collar and sleeves. He grabbed it and hold it in front of Kirishima who eyed him curiously.

“Put this on.” He ordered, grabbing for one of the small vests. In the corner of his eye, he could see Kirishima undress before pulling the other shirt over his head. His eyes darted down at his chest for just a second before staring back at the vest in his hands.

“Okay.” Kirishima tugged the hem into his pants, fastening the cords at the frills of his sleeves. Bakugou helped him with his left sleeve and threw the vest in his face. Kirishima chuckled and tucked his arms through the open sleeve holes, butting it up. There were just three buttons, ending just shy under the poof of his collar, accentuating his broad chest just a little more.

“Do I… Does it look good?” Kirishima smiled shyly at him, doing things to his gut. Bakugou nodded once before Kirishima trotted over to the water, examining his reflection. Seemingly pleased, he offered Bakugou a wide grin.

“Thank you!” He beamed at him. Huh, it actually feels nice to hear a thank you for something he did.

“You still didn’t answer why the fuck you’re inside the walls.” Bakugou growled. “Nobody in his right mind would sneak up inside just to play dress up.”

Kirishima looked caught, fumbling with his sleeves. His eyes darted around, looking everywhere but at Bakugou.

“Stop stalling. Just fucking tell me.” He snapped.

“I—”, Kirishima sighed, “I mean no harm, I promise. I can’t… I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed down at him but couldn’t find any sign that indicated he was lying or wanted to deceive him in any way. He scoffed.

“Suit your-fucking-self.”

Kirishima threw him another apologetic smile. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, making both of them uncomfortable. Bakugou glared at the ground, stuffing down the slight pricking feeling in his chest.

“So”, Kirishima walked up to him, “what are you doing here?” Bakugou threw a glance over his shoulder to see his horse grassing right where he left him.

“On my way to hunt.”

“Oh!” Kirishima exclaimed, clapping his hands. “For the banquet?” He nodded.

“Anything in particular? Deer? Boar?”

“Deer. Probably.”

“Mhm”, Kirishima hummed. “I wonder how it’ll taste?” he mumbled. Bakugou wasn’t sure if it was meant for him to hear but he huffed, nonetheless.

“Like fucking deer. I don’t think deer tastes differently in other prefectures.” Kirishima threw him an unreadable glance.

“Well, I’m gonna find out anyway, huh?” Kirishima smiled at him.

“You want to come with me?” They blinked at each other before Bakugou’s brain caught up with his mouth. He coughed, taking a step back.

“Forget tha—“ – “Sure.” They spoke at the same time. Bakugou’s gaze shot up, meeting Kirishima’s, cheeks slightly reddened.

“Ah, but I don’t really know how to hunt, so I won’t be of any help.” Kirishima scratched his cheek. “Sorry.”

Bakugou huffed. “I’m more than capable enough. Just don’t scare it away.” He turned around on his heels, not looking if Kirishima followed him, only hearing his footsteps falling in line behind him. He took the reins of his horse again when they reached it and climbed into his saddle again. He stepped out of the stirrup iron on Kirishima’s side and threw him an awaiting glance.

Kirishima hesitated only for a second, taking a step forward and grabbing the hand Bakugou offered. It was warm. Kirishima put one foot in the stirrup and with a little effort, Bakugou pulled him up. Kirishima slid behind him in his saddle, his back flushed against Kirishima’s chest. He hoped Kirishima wouldn’t notice how hard his heart was hammering in his chest.

Bakugou steered his horse back on track and silently they rode towards the forest. Kirishima’s breath tickled against his neck, sometimes his ear whenever he turned his head to look around, gasping voiceless at the view or an animal or whatever he deemed interesting. Bakugou tried really hard to focus on his environment, but that proved really hard with Kirishima literally all around him. His breath and voice surrounding his head, his arms pulled lightly around his waist, their torso’s and thighs pressed against each other.

“There.” Kirishima mumbled softly into his ear. Bakugou could feel the tips of his ears burn, just where he felt Kirishima’s breath. He pointed carefully between two trees and when Bakugou followed his line of sight, he saw a deer, antlers growing high above his head.

Ever so slowly, Bakugou reached for his bow, stroking over Kirishima’s thigh with the motion, pulling out an arrow with his other hand. His motions were slow but without hesitation, assertive. He drew his arrow, aimed with one eye closed, feeling Kirishima’s chest rising against his back. Their breathing was in synch, he felt Kirishima exhaling by his chest flattening and let go of his arrow.

The arrowhead shot through the branches right above the deer’s front legs through his ribs, killing it instantly. Kirishima gasped again.

“Amazing.” His grip tightened around Bakugou’s waist.

“I fucking know”, he grumbled more out of reflex. He fastened his bow back on the saddle and galloped over to their prey. He slid down from the saddle, landing on the ground with a soft thud and kneed down. Pulling out his knife, he heard Kirishima land behind him, and slit his knife through the deer’s throat to let it bleed out.

“We let it bleed out and then the kitchen staff will take care of the rest.” He explained without being asked to, seeing Kirishima nod next to him.

“You never skin and gut it yourself?”

“What? No. It’s all dirty and gross.”

Kirishima laughed airily. “Well, I think, if you want to eat something you have to go through the whole process.”

“But you never fucking hunted yourself. So, you don’t actually deserve to eat deer yourself.” Bakugou shot back. Kirishima didn’t say anything, just held his hand open for the knife. Groaning at himself, finally catching up what was going on, he handed Kirishima the knife. For someone who was praised to be a genius he sometimes was a little dense.

“You never ate deer before.” He answered himself quietly. Kirishima hummed and began to hold up the knife before stopping.

“What now?” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“My clothes!” Kirishima put the knife down and stripped off his vest and shirt with deft fingers. His skin was slightly flushed as he kneeled back down, grabbing for the knife again. He set the knife at the bottom of the deer’s throat, Bakugou could see Kirishima’s muscles tense up as he pulled the knife from left to right in one firm stroke.

Immediately, all innards fell out. Fortunately, it already bled out enough from its throat so not too much blood came out through the cut. Kirishima wiped the Knife on the grass to get the excess blood off from it and then grabbed at intestines and stomach and whatnot. He just grabbed it with his bare hands. Bakugou stared at him as if he wasn’t human.

“You… you just do that?”

Kirishima blinked at him. “Why not?”

“Because—” Bakugou stopped himself. Because it’s the servants’ job, was what he wanted to say but knowing Kirishima well enough, he would insult him with this thinking. He nodded, took a deep breath and watched Kirishima gutting the deer. After a short while, Kirishima began to explain what he was doing. He couldn’t name much of the anatomy of the deer, Bakugou filled these blanks, but had extensive knowledge about the right procedure to prepare a deer to be cooked.

It took them about half an hour to get all its intestines properly wrapped up, another half an hour to skin it, and then strapped the deer on the back of Bakugou’s horse. They opted to walk beside the horse, Kirishima said to have an eye on the deer so it wouldn’t slide down but Bakugou understood that he didn’t want to strain his horse too much with two grown men and a deer on its back. No way, he would ride then.

Bakugou had taken Kirishima’s clothes and held onto it for now since Kirishima’s arms were still dipped in blood right up to his elbows. After exiting the forest, Bakugou steered them back to the river and Kirishima could wash his arms. When he emerged from the water and strutted over to him, asking silently for his clothes, Bakugou had to force himself to give it back to him, he had to admit.

“Thank you, Ba- Your Highness.” Kirishima snapped his eyes to the ground as he stumbled over his words, pulling the shirt over his head. Bakugou squinted his eyes at him but let it slide. He crossed his arms and waited.

“No, really, thank you.” Kirishima said again. “For, you know, taking me with you and”, he gestured at himself, “helping me out.”

Bakugou huffed and pulled himself back into the saddle. “Whatever.”

Kirishima beamed at him. “See you at the banquet.”

“You better will.” He steered his horse back to the cobbled path, hitting its flanks with his heels and galloped back to the castle before he could look back.

--

Eijirou stood at the river as long as he could see the prince ride away. At the same time, he wished for Bakugou to turn around and to just ride away as fast as he could. Bakugou took the decision from him as he galloped away. He let out a breath he didn’t know he held in.

He squatted down, hands to his face a made a noise between a squeal and a giggle. No, this couldn’t be happening. No. Nope. Eijirou walked up to the patch of trees, grabbed all the clothes and, finally, ran all the way back. He already took long enough as it was. He ignored all the looks he got and was relieved he could say his red face was because of the running.

He slid into his chamber and stuffed the clothes under his bed, changing out of his current outfit. He put on his simple linen clothing, pulled his headband around his red hair and ran all the way back to the kitchen and asked for something, anything to do. He needed to be distracted.

After tackling every possible assignment, Eijirou made his way back to their chambers when it was already late. He stumbled into the room, trying to be as quiet as possible but as soon as the door swung open, his friends were on their feet, lighting a candle.

“What happened?!” They all whispered loudly in unison.

“I—” Kirishima stuttered. His brain provided him instantly with his memories of today’s afternoon, Bakugou’s eyes constantly roaming over his own naked chest, his body pressed against him, brushing against each other with every step the horse had taken. His face flushed unbelievable hot.

“You met the prince, haven’t you?” Mina gave him a knowing look, receiving nothing but a nod in confirmation. His friends high fived each other.

“Guys”, Eijirou whined, “that’s not something to celebrate. I will only meet him once again and then never again. This just makes everything”, he huffed in annoyance, “more complicated.”

His friends followed him with his eyes as he prepared for bed, exchanging glanced.

“What do you mean?” Denki asked.

Eijirou’s shoulders tensed before falling down. “You know what I mean.” He shook his head. “Alright, let’s talk hypothetically.” He sat down on his bed, his friends following suit. “Hypothetically, I like him. And he liked me. We met at the banquet, becoming even better friends. Yeah, well, surprise I have to move to another country, so see you never again.” He groaned. “This will just… suck.”

“And if you just, I don’t know, play along for a little longer?” Mina asked quietly.

“Deceiving him? Playing someone, I am not? Yeah, great. And either it will suck even more when we have to stop seeing each other or he’ll find out eventually and take it upon himself to stab me to death. I don’t want to…”, he clenched his jaw, “I don’t want to lie to him anymore. I mean, hypothetically, if I liked him, lying to the person you like is just not right.” Eijirou fell backward onto his pillow, both arms spread to his sides, bumping against the wall with his knuckles.

“Just two more days.” He mumbled into the almost darkness. His friends stayed silent. There wasn’t anything they could say because deep down, they knew Eijirou was right. There was no possible solution that a prince and a servant could ever be friends, let alone anything else.

Eijirou tried not to think about the upcoming banquet too hard for the next days but that was kind of impossible since every waking second he was reminded that it was happening due to all the assignments their wing was flooded with. The day before the banquet was especially brutal. Some of the guests had already arrived and demanded attention on top of preparing for the event. Eijirou still was grateful, working and running around at least occupied his brain well enough to actually think about that he would be attending as well.

Well, until it was finally was the day of the banquet. His thoughts caught up with the impending task at hand and made him jittery. His hands trembled, his mind wandered. What he couldn’t really grasp was, was it just anticipation acting as a noble or did he, as a matter of fact, not want to part ways with the prince? He didn’t know and, to be honest, he didn’t want to know.

When it was finally time to get ready, all the other servants ushered him out of the kitchen, encouraging to do whatever he wanted, with a wink, that they could handle the rest. With a heavy sigh, he left for his chambers where Mina was already waiting for him.

“Wow, you look like you’re on the way to a funeral.” She smacked his back. “Cheer up, you’re gonna see your prince tonight.” She chuckled with a knowing look.

“He is not my prince”, he grumbled in response but, oh no, did he want him to be his? Shaking his head, he banished the thought as soon as it came up and pulled out the clothes he prepared for tonight. Mina helped him dress, to give a few knowing tucks so it framed his body just the right way.

Eijirou had already smeared some of the substance into his air before he went to bed last night, not entirely sure how much time he would have for getting ready. Turned out, enough time.

“Sit”, Mina ushered him to sit on the floor in front of the bed, sitting down behind him. She brushed his hair with a broken comb and started to part his hair. Slowly she started to braid different wisps of hair on the side until it united in the middle of the back of his head and became one thicker braided tail, which was slightly raised with a black bow. The end of the ponytail was fastened with a thin black strand.

Eijirou carefully drove his hand over his hair, feeling the tight strands and when Mina handed him her mirror, he let out a tiny gasp.

“Mina!” He turned his head from one side to the other, a few shorter strands on his forehead bobbing with the motion, and his smile grew. “That looks amazing! Thank you!” He turned around fully and pulled her in a firm embrace. Mina laughed into his shoulder.

“It’s not difficult to make a pretty person pretty.” She tightened her hold for a second before they both let go. “Eijirou”, she tugged at his frilly collar, stroking over his vest.

“I want you to know, that we will be on your side. Whatever will happen, whatever your decision will be.”

Eijirou nodded, trying not to cry on the spot. Mina patted his cheek. “You still have time to cry. As soon as I’m finished with you I won’t let you.”

“Mina!” Eijirou wailed, again, pressing his face into her chest. She patted his hair and hushed him.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

He nodded, took in a deep breath and sat up again. “Alright.” Mina grabbed some of the make-up utensils she could gather over the span of last week with the help of other maids and started to apply some powder on his cheeks, drew a fine line on the wing of his eyelids with charcoal and dabbed some red substance onto his lips, making them even rosier than they were anyway.

“Perfect.” Mina admired her own work.

Eijirou took his time to mentally prepare himself, just staring at the wall of their chamber, Mina at his side, holding his hand. They went through the plan often enough he could recite it by heart. In hindsight, he was grateful for Tetsutetsu to get all the other servants on board with this over the top stupid plan. It took some pressure off his shoulder, especially, since the servant who was announcing the guests was as excited as everybody else and could play the part, so he didn’t have to sneak in again. Particularly, because this is an event hosted for his apparent home prefecture and it would seem pretty odd that he had to sneak in for that.

Come in, eat and drink something, tell Bakugou he needed to leave the country because he was promised some young maiden in a far away state and then leave. Easy enough.

--

Bakugou was in high spirit in the past few days. High spirit meant, he didn’t snap at everything and some of his heat left his voice, but rarely someone noticed. Still, Bakugou could feel a little change in his mood. Was it because of the little trip with Kirishima? Probably. But he wouldn’t admit to that out loud.

He noticed a difference in how he was treated by the servants as well as much as he treated them differently. Not that he thanked them for everything they did, it was still their job, but he at least acknowledged their existence, gave them a short nod when, for example, one of them brought him a snack or he saw maids dusting off the busts in the hallway. Which made them a little less… afraid of him, Bakugou dared to say. He didn’t think it was bad to be afraid of him, it meant respect. But somehow, being asked by his staff if he liked his tea rather with one or two spoons of sugar instead of just needed to be told how he wanted it, felt something akin to trust to him.

Trust with the people he wanted to lead.

“Did something good happen, Your Highness?”

Aizawa pulled him out of thoughts. He didn’t listen for the past few minutes, he assumed. Blinking the thoughts away, Bakugou wore his usual scowl etched on his face.

“The fuck you want?”

Unfazed, Aizawa turned back two pages and sighed. “Just asking. I thought for a second there, you were smiling. Must be a trick of my mind.”

“Damn sure it was.” Bakugou snapped but turned his face down to the desk. Just in case. There was no way, such stupid, sappy thoughts would make him smile. Fortunately for him, Aizawa didn’t care much about his current mental state and continued or rather repeated his lecture about the Chiba prefecture. Bakugou was making sure he knew about each and everything of the regions so he could host the best banquet they had ever attended.

Time flew by, the day filled with his usual routine of lecture, lunch, greeting some of the early guests and getting ready for the banquet. He noticed as the maids dressed him that they were a little more fidgeting, suppressed smiles here and there. He didn’t stoop so low as to ask what was that all about even if his curiosity was stretched to its limit. Instead, he looked at his reflection in the wide mirror, tucking at his collar and sleeves to make himself more comfortable, and thought about someone he might, he better be, meet this evening.

Kirishima was a mystery to him. Starting by his appearance, what noble did have red hair? And it looked natural, he couldn’t really be at fault but he could try to get some hair masks or whatever, so it wouldn't be that red. But it matched his eye color which was satisfying. And of course, the main reason he was such a mystery was his demeanor toward nobility. There was leisure in his speech, his gestures, his being he wasn’t used to in a noble. Which was refreshing. He felt like talking to a human being and not someone who recited the usual pleasantries. Especially, he felt he could talk to him freely. Because or Kirishima’s leisure he didn’t feel like Kirishima forced himself to speak with him or to kiss his ass, just, he was honest.

He wanted to know the secrets Kirishima harbored. There was something he didn’t tell him, obviously, and it felt like a challenge. Was he worthy enough to encode this enigma called Kirishima Eijirou?

His feet brought him to the ballroom, he nodded toward the servants opening the door and received small bows, and entered the room which was slowly filled with attendees. Automatically, his eyes scanned the crowd for a specific redhead but didn’t find anything. He tried to ignore the disappointment in his chest. Taking in a deep breath he made his way to the side of his mother, greeting everyone who stopped him.

Whenever the door opened, his head jerked up, squinting at the people coming in and whenever it was not a specific red-haired man, his scowl grew deeper.

“What made you so peeved, my dear son?” His mother nudged him with her elbow, pushing it deep between his ribs and he suppressed a wince.

“Shut up. Nothing.”

“Hum.” She hummed, grin growing a little wider, a little wickeder. “Awaiting someone?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes on her and clicked his tongue.

“Why would I? Just waiting for everybody to arrive to eat, I’m starving.”

“You sure, you aren’t thirsty?”

Bakugou chocked on his own spit and spun around. “Mother—” but before he could finish his sentence, the door opened again and his ears heard the quiet announcement.

“Sir Kirishima Eijirou, first and only son of Lady Kirishima Tomoya.”

Bakugou’s voice died in his throat as he looked up to Kirishima walking through the doors, wearing the outfit he put together for him and an elaborate hairstyle. Maybe it was the chandelier or the lightning overall but to him, it looked like Kirishima was glowing.

He didn’t hear what his mother said to him, just walking right up to Kirishima who was already getting attention by other bystanders. He pushed through them until he was right in front of him.

“Finally decided to show up, dumbwhit?” He crossed his arms, taking a quick once over glance at Kirishima before settling on the small smile that appeared on his face.

“Aw, did Your Highness miss me?”

“You fucking wish.” His fist shot out against the other’s shoulder earning a small grunt, but it turned into a chuckle. Kirishima rubbed at his shoulder and shook his head.

“Need  to work on my reflexes so I can kick you’re a—to win fair and square.” He coughed and scratched his cheek.

“Why the fuck do you think I care about your wording?” As if caught, Kirishima’s eyes shot open, blinking.

“Uh, I…”, his hand traveled to his neck, rubbing at it, “I mean, you’re still the prince and I’m far beneath you, so”, he shrugged as he trailed off, eyes looking up at him sheepishly. “Do you… don’t want me to?”

Bakugou glared at him with a small grunt and shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t care.” Kirishima hummed, leaning over a little.

“Then, Your Highness, please let me kick your ass next time we spar.” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed down on Kirishima’s beaming smile and shoved his shoulder at him.

“Big words for someone who couldn’t even get one hit in.”

“I almost had you… that one time, I think.”

Bakugou chuckled ever so lightly at the contemplating look on Kirishima’s face. “You and thinking? I highly doubt that.” When their eyes locked, his heart stuttered for just a second when he saw the tiny, yet warm smile meant for him.

“So, you do can laugh.”

“Fuck off!” Bakugou shoved at him again but Kirishima was laughing wholeheartedly already.

For the next hour, they kept on bantering, trying to one-up each other for their next sparring session and walked around the room. Bakugou had to stop every now and then to hold an obliging conversation with which he really could live without. His eyes always trailed off to his side, where Kirishima was apparently glued to him, never really leaving him but not chiming in in the conversation. Afterward, when they were alone again, Bakugou listed off some trivial information of the noble they were talking to. Not to impress Kirishima or anything.

Then, a small bell was rung, and his mother invited their guests to join her at the dinner table. Bakugou made a face and lead Kirishima to the table, scanning it for Kirishima’s name badge and was pleasantly surprised to find him seated directly at his side. Whoever decided their seating order needed to be thanked. He almost pulled out the chair to offer it to Kirishima but could stop himself in time. Instead, he sat down on his own chair, registering by the movement next to him that Kirishima sat down as well.

“Do you know what will be served?” Kirishima leaned in and whispered to Bakugou. He just shrugged.

“Probably the same as always. Soup, fish, meat, dessert.” Pushing his lips up a little higher in a scowl. “Always the same.”

Kirishima tilted his head at that. “You… don’t like having four different courses?” Bakugou rolled his eyes and groaned.

“No, Shitty-shima, I don’t like having the same four courses every damn day. I thought we have top chefs who like to experiment and give us something to look forward to and not this bland shit, every day.”

His mother cleared her throat and shot him a meaningful glare which he answered in the same manner. She rolled her eyes and stood up, all conversations died down.

“My honored guests, it is my pleasure to welcome you at our home.” She raised her glass. “It is not only a joy for me to see you come from a faraway place to strengthen our bonds but, as well, that my son takes it upon himself to fight for these bonds.”

He scuffed under his breath but Kirishima nudged his knee under the table, nodding at him with a smile.

“So, thank you, my dear son, Katsuki, to present us this opportunity. Would you like to say something yourself to our guests?”

‘No’ was the first thing he wanted to say but clenched his jaw to not blurt it out. His eyes found Kirishima’s and he sighed. He stood up with a glass in his hand, looking them all over once.

“Thank you for following my invitation when I reached out for you. It is a great honor to have you all assembled in these halls and I hope to nourish our relationship with newly found friends and allies.” His expression turned a little sour. He hated speaking as if he had a stick up his ass. “Then, let’s toast to our friends and eat to our heart’s desire, I’m fucking starving.” He down his glass and sat down.

Kirishima was the first to break the stunned silence with a laugh and the others followed suit. Pleased by himself, Bakugou gave his mother a courteous nod who in turn fixed him with a knowing look in her eyes, dancing between him and Kirishima. He chose to ignore that and turned his attention back to Kirishima who was beaming at the soup that was brought in.

“That looks delicious!” He gasped as a bowl was put in front of him.

“It’s fucking soup.”

“Yeah, well, Your Highness, even ‘fucking soup’ can taste pretty good!” Kirishima mimicked his words with the same grumpy expression, Bakugou assumed he was wearing right now and kicked Kirishima under the table, earning a snicker.

It was fascinating to watch Kirishima eat a simple potato soup as if it was some blessed meal. His face beamed with every spoonful, humming every other bite and when he wiped his bowl clean with the slice of bread, it was pure bliss on his face. It was fucking soup. And yet, it made Bakugou enjoy his own soup a little more, admitting that it, in fact, did taste pretty good.

When the fish was served, Bakugou witnessed a rather peculiar situation. He was just quipping back in forth with his parents, when he out of the corner of his eye saw that Kirishima was grabbing for the wrong knife regarding eating fish. When he was about to say something, Kirishima locked eyes with the servant on the other side of the table. They shook their head so lightly, it was only visible if you look for it. Kirishima then moved his hand to the next, another shake and when he touched the right knife, he got a nod. They exchanged a subtle smile and the servant was gone.

As if nothing had happened, Kirishima turned back to Bakugou, grinning at him.

“Do you know which fish will be served?”

Still a little dumbfounded what he just witnessed, Bakugou shook his head. “Fish.” He deadpanned. Kirishima chuckled at him.

“I sure hope it is fish since it is the fish course. Man”, his eyes grew distant, “if that’s all it takes to be a prince, I have a pretty good chance to become one myself.”

That earned him, at the same time, a hard kick under the table and a chuckle from the queen. Kirishima’s quiet yelp was accompanied by his flashing cheeks as he shot a glance towards the queen. A shy smile formed on his lips.

“This is Sir Kirishima Eijirou from whom I’ve heard a lot recently, isn’t he?” The queen asked between bites.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Kirishima bowed his head slightly and Bakugou could see him fumble, apparently undecided if he was allowed to continue eating or waiting for some conversation. He rolled his eyes and nudged his knee, nodding at his fish. Relief washed over Kirishima as he took the next bite.

“I haven’t seen Katsuki hold such a long conversation in a long time without chasing the other party away. What’s your secret?”

Kirishima snorted slightly but shook his head. “No secret, Your Majesty. Just honest… I like the way he is.” Another smile, almost fond, formed on his lips and a bit of fish fell from Bakugou’s fork as he stopped it right before his mouth. Ignoring the heat forming on his cheeks he bit down hard on his fork.

His mother just laughed. “Oh, dear Sir, that is truly fascinating. Do tell, what is it you like about my son?”

“Mother!” Bakugou almost shouted, heads turning to see what the commotion was about. Bakugou glared at his mother, having a silent conversation with his eyes alone. Which Mitsuki choose to ignore.

“What is it, Katsuki? I just thought it was nice to know about redeeming qualities you have I’m not aware of.” Her smile stretched on his face, every inch of it smug.

“Oh, is it so hard to believe someone likes the son you raised? That is really reassuring.” Bakugou snapped with fake hurt, lashing his anger out on his fish. The queen waited for another second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, dispersing the heavy atmosphere that had formed. Bakugou grumbled.

Kirishima touched his elbow with his own, searching for his eyes. He glanced over, pursing his lips. Slightly leaning forward, Kirishima held their gaze and whispered.

“For what it’s worth, I like how determined you are, among other things.” He had the audacity to wink at him. Bakugou felt another wave of heat rising up his face but also in his chest, tightening around his lungs. He grunted in response.

When they were finished with the fish, Kirishima leaned over again. His eyes were cast down, his fingers twitching at his napkin.

“I—Can we talk after dinner? There is something I have to tell you.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “Why not tell me fucking now?”

Kirishima shook his head, a sad smile on his lips he didn’t like one bit. “We should talk… in private.” Bakugou rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Whatever.” Whatever, indeed. It wasn’t important that his heart clenched by the sorrowful look Kirishima wore or that he held his breath when he thought about what Kirishima had to tell him in private.

When the meat course was served, his mother raised her glass again. “I want to thank my son since he was the one who shot the deer for us today.”

Quiet ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s were uttered.

“Kirishima helped.” Bakugou grumbled. His mother raised her eyebrows, tilting her head.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware of that. Of course, thank you, Sir Kirishima, as well. How come?”

“I—” Kirishima’s eyes widened and Bakugou saw him looking over to him in search for help.

“We just kinda ran into each other. And since I was on my way I just invited him to tag along. He was the one who—” Kirishima stepped on his foot and shook his head almost undetectable. Bakugou stumbled a little over his words and glared at him.

“We both took it down.” He said in the end. His mother nodded again, forming polite conversation with the person next to his father, throwing Bakugou a meaningful look. But Bakugou had already turned his head to Kirishima.

“What the fuck was that about?” He hissed. Kirishima shrugged at him noncommittally.

“I don’t want people to know.” It was rather formed a question as he raised his voice at the end. Bakugou pinched his nose with two fingers, taking a few deep breaths. Why in the world was he keeping up with this? There was no logical reason and he was well aware of that fact, making it even more frustrating to him. Glancing back to Kirishima and seeing him savoring the meat, however, he decided it didn’t matter really that much that he knew why.

“Are all banquets like that?” Kirishima asked in between bites.

Bakugou finally started eating as well. “Mostly. It’s literally a banquet, dumbass.” He scowled at Kirishima’s chuckle. “Sometimes there are dances, though.”

“Dances?” Kirishima beamed at him. “Aw, man, that would have been great.”

“What, you like dances?” Bakugou perked one eyebrow up. “Don’t look like one to dance.”

Kirishima shrugged. “I… don’t actually. I mean, I don’t know how”, lowering his voice Kirishima poked at his meat, “but I wanted to attend a formal dance for so long, you know. Preferable after I learned how to dance.” Another chuckle.

Bakugou eyed him for a second, an idea forming inside his head and before he could stop himself, he said: “I could teach you.”

Kirishima’s head jerked up, staring at him with glistening eyes. “You would?”

“Idiot”, Bakugou cleared his throat, chewing the rest of his meat in his mouth, “that’s what I said, didn’t I?” He fixed his eyes back on the plate since he couldn’t bear looking further at Kirishima’s blinding smile. A few seconds went by without Kirishima answering so he chanced another glance.

Kirishima separated the vegetables from his meat with his fork, poking at it absentmindedly. His smile was already dropped and Bakugou felt his chest tighten, again. Should he see his physician about this?

“Got a problem with that?” he snapped instead.

“Huh?” Kirishima blinked up at him. “No! No, not at all. It’s just…” he bit his lip, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“What’s with all that—” – “So, Sir Kirishima”, his mother interrupted him mid-sentence and he had to count from 10 backward to no yell at her.

“Why didn’t your mother come to join us today? I would have thought, she would be delighted as a recently declared Lady?” She took a long sip, fixing Kirishima in his seat with her eyes.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Kirishima voice sounded raspy. “She extends her thanks for the invitation, however, she couldn’t make it because of her health.”

“Oh, dear. I hope she will get better soon.” Bakugou’s mother held a hand to her chest, shaking her head. “I hope she can join us for the next banquet. I’d like to meet the woman who raised such a good boy.”

“To see how it’s actually done?” Bakugou finally quipped. He wasn’t to let it slide that she kept interrupting him and made a fool out of him. His mother shot him a glare.

“For you to see how to treat a mother right, my dear son.”

He heard Kirishima stifle a laugh next to him, so he jerked his head around. “You fucker like laughing about me?”

“N-no”, he grinned, holding a hand up in front of his mouth, “it’s just… I’m happy to see you’re having such a good relationship with your mother.”

“Wha—Where did you get that idea from?!” Bakugou blinked at him incredulously. Kirishima leaned back against his chair, humming.

“Well, you can only really banter like this with someone you actually care about, don’t you?” A fond smile spread over his face. Did he wear make-up? Bakugou noticed the thin black line on his eyelid, giving his eyes a more edged shape. And before, he thought Kirishima looked a little pale, but now he saw the rosy cheeks shimmer through the face powder.

He grabbed his glass and took a long sip, whipping the excess wine away with the back of his hand.

“My old hag and I aren’t—” he couldn’t finish his sentence, as the giant clock on the wall struck 12, the first bell ringing through the hall. Rolling his eyes, Bakugou waited for the next beat to continue but he noticed Kirishima freezing up beside him, his eyes wide.

“It’s already midnight?” he barely breathed.

“Huh? Yeah. We started dinner rather late because of those stupid late runners.” He shrugged and picked up the last piece of meat with his fork.

“I have to go.” Kirishima almost threw down his cutlery, standing up with a screeching chair. Bakugou almost choked on his own spit and whipped his head around.

“What? Why?” He snapped. But Kirishima had already pushed the chair back far enough and took a step back.

“I… I am so, so sorry. I need to go. See you later, Baku—Your Highness!” And with that, he jolted around and started running. Bakugou wheezed. Not again. Kirishima would not ditch him again. With a sharp push, he stood up from his chair, on foot already planted firmly on the ground to give him leverage. He thrust forward only to collide with a servant who suddenly appeared from the side.

Bakugou toppled over with the person but could retain from falling down by rolling over his shoulder. The tray flew high up, falling down with a loud clatter, and dishes shattering on the ground. The servant held his side but was already kneeling down on both knees, head almost touching the ground.

“I am incredibly sorry. Please, forgive me, Your Highness.” Their voice quivered slightly and Bakugou clicked his tongue, growling under his breath. He punched the ground with his fist, flinching just barely at the pain.

Kirishima was gone. Fucking again.

#Boku no Hero Academia #krbkweek2k19 #KiriBakuWeek2019 #KiriBaku #Kirishima Eijirou #Bakugou Katsuki #Cinderella AU #fanfiction

[hollandandi]

“you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

——

entry for @underoosbws’s 3k writing challenge!🧠💓

tom or peter

type - mostly angst, some fluff🧠💓

word count - 2.5k

warnings - swearing/language

w/n; sorry I’ve been absent lately! family drama has been in my head! enjoy this! and let me know your thoughts, please!💓

tag-list; @therealme13posts @crxssourbones @space-starz

——

It had been two weeks since the secrets began filling the hallways, and each room of your shared apartment. It soon began infiltrating your phone, messages being deleted shortly after you pressed the send button and saw the ‘delivered’ font appear briefly. You would glance over to the brunette boy who would sit on the couch, zoned into whatever show was playing at the time of the day, before gently tapping details of the plan into your notes section, and sending screenshots to your closest friends to ensure the idea was bulletproof.

You spent your days online. Reading success stories of similar situations, and researching current trends to ensure you were going about it the right way. You would clear your history after any searches, and would log out of Amazon after any purchases. Your laptop went everywhere you did, and your phone suddenly had a passcode on it.

You felt guilty at times; confiding in your best friend over FaceTime on a Thursday night, in a cropped hoodie and pyjama shorts, but when Tom arrived home early one day, and heard you muttering things like “I just don’t know if this a good idea anymore,” and “I feel bad,” followed by you quickly ending the call when you heard his footsteps along the wooden floor of the main hallway, he finally lost it.

“What the hell are you hiding from me?!” He yelled, spitting anger throughout his tone. “I am tired of this, Y/N! You could not be more god damn secretive!” He raised his arms in a mix of exhaustion and frustration, before bringing them back down to his sides in a swift motion. His head shook, making his hair follow, while he looked up to you with dark eyes, that were equal parts hurt as they were mad. You stood there quietly for a few seconds after the latter outburst, and you stepped closer to him in an attempt to reduce the tension between your two bodies, which were simply standing in your shared loosely-lit bedroom. “I’m sorry, Tommy. It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just researching for a school proj-.”

“Bullshit, Y/N! If you want to lie to me, then at-least have some fucking respect, and don’t do it straight to my face.” He almost yelled, but his tone was more controlled now. His voice was laced with pure exasperation as he expressed his final comment, before turning around, shaking his head once more and slamming the door behind him.

By the time you had pulled open the wooden door which physically separated you, though, the front door was closed too. The handle was jittering due to the force he had used to slam it shut, and your face dropped. Your hands shook lightly, as you pulled them up to run through your slightly greasy hair - your gaze not leaving the closed door he had placed between you both. You sighed deeply, hoping he would not be out for long, so you made your shared-bed, turned on the lamp, and stayed up reading a book he had brought you from his last travel. But your initial hope was wrong; Tom didn’t come home that night.

The next day came, which happened to be a Thursday, and it was now the afternoon - but the morning had dragged you slower than you could have ever imagined. You didn’t know when he would be home, and after several morning hours doing unproductive activities, which included six cups of hot tea; you decided to try and at-least get some of your initial plans to progress. You opened your shared wardrobe, before rummaging through the jacket section and pulling out a large plastic box with three letters scribbled on the side. “Tom.”

As you laid all of the contents out on the living room rug, your body in a crossed leg position, you realised the situation was getting hectic. You attempted to continue the work independently at first, but it wasn’t long until you called a familiar face to help you along. To your surprise, Harrison was free. Majority of your thoughts assumed Tom would be with him, drinking an afternoon beer and expressing his irritations he had accumulated lately.

“No - he’s not here. I can definitely come over and help: we only have a few days left so if you need help, I’m there.” He smiled through the phone, before leaving his apartment and arriving at yours in around fifteen minutes. A couple of hours went by - scissors, glitter, glue, paper, sharpies and string were littered over the carpet. You had laid newspaper down, but it didn’t help that much - glitter was always going to end up everywhere. You were on your phone, ensuring people were still okay to join you on Saturday evening, which you received numerous ‘yes’ replies to, making you smile and feel a lot less nervous.

All was content, and as Harrison helped you pack the previous items, along with new creations, into the plastic container that usually lived in the wardrobe, you finalised a few things that were on your mind. And as the snap sound of the container plastic rang through both of your ears, you didn’t manage to hear the normally all-too-familiar car lock from outside the studio apartment.

Tom made his way to the front door, placing his key within the lock compartment before turning it clockwise to produce a faint ‘click’ unlocking noise, and pushing the door open slightly. He expected the sounds of a Netflix show to be ringing through the building, imagining you sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, either crying over a character death, or laughing at a joke. What he didn’t expect, however, was the sounds of his girlfriend and his best friend, laughing lightly and expressing future plans.

“And you’re still free on Saturday night?” You expressed, moving the box to a couch cushion, ready to be placed back in the bedroom once Harrison had left.

“All fine - I can’t wait, if I’m honest. Today has got me really excited.” He grinned, moving his jacket sleeves back down now any glue on his hands and arms had dried.

“Okay, great.” You smiled softly, tucking a piece of loose hair back in your ponytail carefully. “But remember, no telling Tom.” You looked seriously at him, your eyes not leaving his until he nodded and replied. “I know, I know. I won’t - I promise.” He stood up, stretching his legs out as he helped you with any loose rubbish you two had produced.

“Someone want to tell me why the fuck not?” A voice echoed through the hallway, and into the usually happy, laughter-filled living room. You heard the front door shut, along with the sound of a jacket being flung across the stair bannister, before footsteps marched along the wooden floor. “No telling Tom? Are you fucking serious?” He exclaimed, scoffing slightly as he spoke.

“Oh my, Tom, you, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” You stuttered, your eyes slightly wider before as you froze in your tracks, your eyes quickly glancing to the box that was still resting on the grey couch that was centred in the room.

“No shit. Why the fuck would I want to hear my best friend and my girlfriend making fucking secret plans?” He yelled now, looking at Harrison, before his gaze flicked to you, seeing your eyes drop, hurt filling them from his tone of voice.

“Tom, trust me, it’s nothing bad.” Harrison followed, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Tom quickly shrugged it off, pushing it with his rough right hand, before looking at you, seeing you glance to the box again, trying to turn it with your hip so it was less out of sight.

“What the fuck is in there then? Hm? Clearly it’s got your bloody attention more than the current situation!” Tom’s eyes were dark now, more of a black than a brown. His jaw was tight, and veins were pulsing in his neck and arms as he began to storm over to the couch. Your instinct was to move in front of the box, facing him as your put your arms on his chest. You didn’t push him, but it was more of a physical barrier as you attempted to plead, while attempting to diffuse the situation in anyway you could. “Tom, really, it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’ve cleared out, I’m going to throw them away in a minute!” You let out, trying to move your head to stop his line of sight being available on the contents of the transparent box. This quickly frustrated him even more though, if that was even possible, proved by him grabbing your hands from his chest and pushing them down before moving you to the left of him and ripping off the grey, plastic lid.

He had no idea what to expect in the contents. His thoughts had been all over the place in the last twenty-four hours. It began with the cliché; lingerie, photographs, love letters, romantic gifts, all from other people, or simply, another guy. It moved to other ideas, some a lot more far-fetched than others - at one point the idea of you being an assassin popped up in his mind, but he quickly dismissed this, drank more of his beer, and moved onto a more rational idea, like you contemplating on different ways to break up with him. Advice columns on how to make break-ups easy, good lines to use when doing it, what to expect in the aftermath, etc. His eyebrows were raised, and his lip was bit - almost bleeding due to the pressure he was placing on it. His grip on the lid was tight, his knuckles practically bulging from his skin as he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes to see what the last two weeks had bubbled over for.

What he did not expect, though, was a box full of handmade, glittery banners that read expressions such as “Happy Birthday!”, tens of packets of party poppers, hundreds of metres of different colour streamers, too many balloons to count, and small packets of confetti and place-cards with family and friend’s names carefully written onto them. An invitation card laid on-top, one that had “Tom” written on the top row, with a small wink drawn next to it. After the typical line, ‘You are invited to the birthday party of...’, there was a three letter word, revealing the true intentions of his girlfriend in the past weeks. It explained the secrets, the quickly ended phone calls, the secretive texts, the consistent Amazon packages arriving at the door from places such as “PartiesRUs”, and finally, the all-nighters you had pulled throughout the time.

‘You are invited to the birthday party of...you.’

“I told you, you weren’t supposed to hear us.” You sighed, feeling slightly defeated - the cat was out of the bag. He knew, the surprise was gone.

Two months ago, on a Sunday morning, as the morning sun shone brightly through the curtains next to your shared bed, onto the white duvet cover you were both under, Tom expressed to you that he hadn’t had a birthday party in three years. Due to work, the difficulty to get a date everyone was available for, and one year, pure stupidity, the event had been missed. As soon as his confession left his lips, a plan formed in your mind. You checked his calendar app that night, while he was showering, choosing a date he was free and selecting the ‘busy’ option, but left the event blank.

As two weeks passed, secrets were filling the hallways of your apartment, along with his parent’s home, his friend’s homes, his colleagues’ homes and those of your family too. Each room of your shared apartment had hidden compartments, featuring essential additions to the date. Your bathroom had a basket of receipts under the sink, your kitchen had RSVP’d invitations in an blank envelope, pinned to the board next to the fridge, and your bedroom had a plastic container of decorations, some handmade by you and Harrison.

He dropped the invitation gently into the box, before turning around to face the girl he had yelled at two nights in a row. His eyebrows returned to their usual position, and his jaw loosened. His face dropped, his mouth parting slightly as his shoulders slumped. “I’m so,” He expressed slowly, “shit, my love, I’m so sorry.” He softly held your hand, standing close to you, before looking up to his best friend that was also standing beside him.

“Haz, I’m sorry too. My mind - it just, jumped to the worst conclusions.” He sighed, running his free-hand through his hair, as Harrison smiled sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “No hard feelings mate; we were probably a little too secretive. I’ll leave you two it, though.” He smiled at you, receiving a soft, and thankful, one back from you, before he nodded at Tom, and made his way out of the room.

“Love, I really am sorry - I just, my mind started racing; after all the things you were doing, and the call the other night.” His eyes dropped significantly, and you didn’t know whether you saw them water a little bit. “I thought you were planning on leaving me, especially after you were telling people you felt bad.” He sighed, moving his hair from his forehead, pushing it back. “I should have known you were planning something harmless, something thoughtful in-fact, so fucking thoughtful. But I had to come in and start yelling, screaming and just fucking the whole thing up. I can’t believe I’m such a idi-.”

His words were interrupted by your lips on his, pressing gently, with your right hand softly resting against his chest. He leant into the kiss, but didn’t harden it - this kiss was loving, but calm. It was a ‘I forgive you,’ kinda kiss, and it was all that he could hope for. His right hand laid on your hip, with his left cupping your cheek gently as the kiss continued for a few more seconds. As you slowly pried yourself from his lips, a soft smile curled on the corners of your lips once you saw he was grinning slightly, and a sigh of relief emerged from his lips. You gently nudged his shoulder with your fist, shaking your head jokefully before looking up to his gaze again.

“You’re half-forgiven. You’ll get the other half if I’m happy with your fake-surprised face on Saturday.” You laughed lightly, slowly taking the lid from the couch and clipping it back onto the box carefully. “And until then, no freaking out at me.”

“Deal.” He agreed, a smile plastered on his face as you hid the box behind the jackets, closing the wardrobe and walking back into the living room, where your slightly silly boyfriend was still standing.

“Okay, now show me your surprised face.”

“Bloody hell, that is awful, aren’t you supposed to be an actor or something?”

“Fuck off.” He laughed loudly, collaborating with an eruption of giggles from your lips. He may be a complete idiot, but at-least he was yours.

#jess3kwritingchallenge #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland series #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker

[dontshootmespence]

Enjoy The Show

Summary: Lilith is under extreme pressure to free Lucifer from the Cage and Ruby is taking a little too long keeping up her end of the bargain. With frustrations growing in both, Lilith finds a way to kill to birds with one stone - make her point known and give them both what they need.

Pairing: Lilith (Katherine Boecher) x Ruby

Word Count: 1,372

Warnings: Voyeurism, public sex, humiliation kink, flogging, bondage, squirting, mentions of blood but no blood kink, BDSM relationship.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! Heed the fucking warnings. Fulfills my Lilith x Ruby @spnkinkbingo square.

                                                           ------

She was doing her best, but Sam was reluctant to embrace his true power and Dean kept inserting himself where he didn’t belong. Both Winchesters had to believe she was on their side and that took time, finesse. That’s what Lilith didn’t want to understand.

As she approached the innocuous looking building, red brick walls hiding the debased and depraved, she swallowed back the uncertainty. Lilith could ask her for anything and Ruby would give it, but Lilith was unpredictable - no matter the vessel. That unpredictability always unnerved her in the best way. 

Outside, men and women went about their business, going to and from work, taking care of their families, none the wiser to what was happening within these four walls. She inhaled the thick scent of sex and relaxed. All around her, others that frequented this place stepped into rooms, ready to indulge in whatever seemingly deviant activity they couldn’t in the company of the highest and mightiest of humanity. 

Turning the corner, she saw the blonde vessel of her lover - the innocent beachy waves so contrary to the demon underneath - and immediately she could feel the heat pool in her panties. “Hello, Mistress.”

“You’re late, pet.”

“I know, Mistress. I’ve been trying to convince Sam of my loyalty. It’s been harder than anticipated.”

“So it seems.”

Ruby didn’t dare look up. When she walked inside walls like these, she wasn’t to even speak without Lilith’s permission. 

“Do you need some encouragement to complete your objective in a more timely manner?”

She nodded and inhaled sharply when Lilith’s mouth came up against the shell of her ear, the whisper crawling up her spin. “Once Lucifer is free, I will be his second hand. And you will be mine. I’m going to give you a reminder of who you belong too.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Ruby whispered.

Lilith clasped Ruby’s hand and brought her toward the room she’d booked with the owners of the establishment, knowing full well that Ruby wouldn’t look up until she was told to do so. 

Numerous pairs of feet passed her eyeline as they walked and Ruby’s mouth went dry. It had always just been them. What did Lilith have in mind?

“Look up, pet.”

Ruby’s mouth dropped open at the sight before her. Rows and rows of chairs. They were standing on a stage. “You’ll do anything for me, pet, right?”

“Yes,” she replied, biting her lip so hard she almost tasted blood. 

“Then strip,” she said, popping the end of the word as she gestured to the people around her. “We have an audience. And I have quite a show planned for them.”

Body-wise she wasn’t ashamed at all - it wasn’t hers, it was her vessels, but she’d be bearing her soul in front of random strangers, that’s where the fear crept in - along with the anticipation. As she slipped off each item of clothing, she could feel more and more eyes on her, but no one hollered or catcalled; they just sat with rapt attention - both men and women. Once she was completely naked, Lilith motioned toward the contraption in middle of the stage. Essentially it looked like a short balance beam like those use for gymnastics, covered in leather and with shackles attached. Four to be exact. She was going to be bound and spread open for everyone to see.

Without needing to be told, Ruby stepped toward the beam and bent over, hissing as the cool leather touch her skin. She spread her arms out and watched Lilith as she clasped the shackles down on her wrists. 

“You’re already wet? How desperate are you?”

Her leg trembled when Lilith crouched down to fasten the cuffs around her ankles, spread a comfortable width apart. “Answer me.”

“I’m very desperate, Mistress.”

“Louder. Our audience can’t hear you.” “I’m very desperate,” she repeated, louder this time. 

“Let’s show the whole room what a desperate little slut you are.” What Ruby hadn’t realized was that the apparatus she was bound to was movable. 

Lilith spun it around so that Ruby’s pretty little cunt was on full display. “Isn’t she so pretty? It’s perfect, but I think we need to make that ass that same color as her pretty, pink pussy. Count them, pet.”

Leather cut through the air before landing on her taut skin. “One!” She cried out. A second and third came in quick succession, the sting of the leather building quickly and making her legs quake with need. 

“Four!” She yelled as the strands of leather hit her again. “Oh fuck!”

Lilith dragged the flogger up Ruby’s slit, gathering the wetness that gathered there before showing it to her. “This is from four smacks with a flogger. I’ve barely touched you. I’ve barely done anything and this is how you react. Clean it up.”

Ruby dragged her tongue against the smooth leather, her desperation evident in action and taste. “I think I’ll turn you around so you can look them in the eyes while I turn you beautiful ass a nice shade of red.”

When the next hit rattled her skin, she said nothing, crying out in pain but desperate for more. 

“You didn’t say five. I was only planning on 20, but you’ve earned yourself another five.”

Ruby glanced up, looking for permission to speak to say she was sorry, but was denied. Lilith got all the way up to 15 before showing the audience the evidence of her arousal. 

Even those in the back row could see the marks left upon such pristine skin, pinkish stripes highlighted against the untouched. By the looks in their eyes, Lilith could tell that many of them were wishing they were on the giving or receiving end of the show before them. Unfortunately for them, Ruby belonged to her and she would never share such a gift with the peons of humanity. “Mistress?”

“Yes, pet?”

“May I come?” For a long while, Ruby hated admitting how much the pain and pleasure mixed - how the harder she was hit, the more aroused she became - but as time passed, she cared less and less. Each hit, each sting of pain, brought her closer and closer to crying out, but she dared not come without permission.

“No, but good girl for asking. If you can handle the next 10 as I see fit I will allow you to come.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The gleam in Lilith’s eyes told Ruby all she needed to know. It was reiterated every time they were together. Sex meant very little. It was the power she craved more than anything else - no matter the facet of her life. 

After 20 lashes with the flogger, Ruby was shaking, her mouth hanging open as the spit dropped onto the ground. Behind her, she couldn’t tell whether the liquid trickling down her legs was blood or her slickness, but she didn’t care. “Five more, pet.”

“Twenty one!”

It hurt.

“Twenty two!” She couldn’t help but scream each number.

“Twenty three!”

It hurt so good. Only two more.

“Twenty four! Twenty five!” The last two came in quick succession and she bit her lip so hard she felt the skin break. It had taken everything in her to not come with the final lash.

“You did well, pet. For that I’ll give you a reward.” Bending down to her eye level, Lilith whispered in her ear. “I’m going to finger fuck that pretty pussy until you come. You’ll squirt for me because I demand it. Right?”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I hope you’ve all enjoyed the show,” she said to the audience, stepping to Ruby’s side. “We’ll leave you with a little parting gift.” With one hand on the small of her back, Lilith slipped two fingers into Ruby’s entrance, meeting no resistance whatsoever. She quickly found her g-spot and thrusted against the spot until Ruby cried out, her legs trembling as liquid sluiced onto Lilith’s hand and the stage below. “Good girl,” she whispered.

Shortly after, the audience began to dissipate, leaving the two women alone once more. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome, pet. Are you ready to continue your mission?”

“Yes, Mistress. Anything you need.”

#spnkinkbingo #nicole tackles the kink #lilith/ruby #lilith x ruby #smut #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #femslash #supernatural femslash #dontshootmespence #enjoy the show

[lalalalelo]

Boys will be boys

So, this is my first fic, my first entry on tumblr and I have no idea what I´m doing. Imma doin’ dis rite??

Love the effort others put into their content, this is my contribution. English is not my first language, have mercy upon my soul~

Also, I want to use that bathhouse/ sauna (?) in fe3h so badly. Nintendo give us naked people please!

Link to AO3

Sylvain, the bathhouse and Claude's plan not working the way he imagined.

Time seemed to stand still. Sunbeams fell through the window into the seminar room, indicating the lovely weather they all seemed to miss out on. Professor Manuela walked monotonously along the aisle, reading in her bewitching voice from an antigue-looking book. Whilst the students of the first two rows took moderately motivated notes, the third row lingered gracelessly on their chairs. From time to time, small glances fell on the professor, who, as usual, could not resist showing up dressed with rather less than more clothing. The last row was mentally no longer present and otherwise busied with themselves. For the first hour, Claude stared at a stain on the wall at the far end of the room, wondering if those were the remains of his last failed experiment from a week ago. In the second hour, he fumbled restlessly around his pockets, trying to find anything he could keep his hands and mind busy with. A spoon, two hair ties from Hilda, some chalk remains, a squishy stump of a candle and a sparkly rock he discovered in the dining hall.

"Imperial year 861. After King Klaus I. passed away, his sons divided the holy kingdom of Faerghus into three territories and ruled from then on as archdukes."

Claude sighed. He knew the history of Fódlan inside out and even more than that, since he managed to snatch some confidential monastery documents and sneaked those into his room. He could spend days and nights in the library. Piles of books occupied his bed, leaving himself not enough space in it. Not that it mattered, since he fell asleep on his rug most of the time, passing out upon his tactic maps and scheming concepts. The professors liked to describe him as loafing and uninhibited, blaming his lack of seriousness. The truth was, he was far ahead of his classmates, at least regarding general subjects. To achieve great ambitions and goals, one should be prepared for the future. Only those who are aware of the past and present events are able to shape the future for the better. With this believing, he absorbed all available knowledge, often leaving him becoming quickly bored with his surroundings. The general subjects took place as a mixed seminar for students of all houses. They usually degenerated into lengthy monologues. He twiddled around with the hair ties, attempting to knot the chalk pieces together.

"Come on Felix, don’t be a coward. You can be stiffy later, you’re missing out on the time of your life.“

Sitting directly behind Claude, Sylvain was trying one of his attempts on convincing Felix to join in on his good-for-nothing-missions. For most of the time, the local ladies were involved somehow. As usual, it would probably not work on the grumpy loner.

"Shut up Sylvain and finally leave me be with your foolish games. I have to train later, because unlike you, I still intend to make something useful with my life."

"Uhh yes, you mean dying like a lonely and untouched maiden?"

The comment brought him a rough kick to the ankle. Claude found a few more toothpicks in his pockets, which he clumsily tried to combine with the improvised chalk-hair tie-candle-construct.

"What about you Dimitri? You can’t hide forever, just because your last date went terribly wrong. You are a healthy young man with needs. Once you take over the kingdom, your chance is over."

Dimitri inhaled sharply. "N…no, I can’t get involved in one of your absurdities again. It’s not suitable in my position to do such a wicked and improper action of…"

"Boooooring. You can’t tell me that you’re not at least interested. Look me in the eye and tell me the truth.“

"No ... no … well … I ..."

"Great, it’ll be a blast! Afterwards, we can still ..."

A loud smack on the back of his head silenced Sylvain and woke the dozing rest of the class, whilst Bernadetta flinched in shock and Mercedes and Anette were left in quiet chuckles. Professor Manuela took the attention back to class with one of her famous headbutts. Sylvain rubbed the back of his aching head, ignoring the piercing look he got from Ingrid sitting in the front row. Claude tried to craft the spoon into his construct, one of the toothpicks snapped. Crap.

As Professor Manuela continued lulling, Felix leaned back and huffed in satisfaction.

"You can take your childish attempts elsewhere, but not where you pester others with your incompetence and sloppiness and certainly not around me. Take the boar prince and get out of my sight.“

"Felix, please mind your language, ladies don’t fancy that. Your lack of interest in women will give everyone the wrong idea. Although sometimes I wouldn’t mind ...“

The bell rang for lunch break and a wild rustle passed through the aisle as everyone hurried up stowing their scrolls and quills into their bags. With a sigh, Professor Manuela closed the book and mumbled something about needing a drink. As Felix raged away, Sylvain still persuaded Dimitri to join him into whatever he had in mind. Dimitri lowered his head in shame and did his best to ignore his friend. Claude stood up, placed the strange sparkly rock on the spoon and positioned his sloppily improvised catapult. With a mumbled "Whatever“ he slammed his fist on the dipper and sent his ammunition flying across the room, towards Linhardt's resting head, which had already smacked the table as the first five minutes of the seminar passed by. Claude packed his things and disappeared outside.

"Oh look Marianne, that's the jewelry I must have lost in the dining hall. I wanted to use it for Lysithea's bracelet." Hilda chuckled happily as she picked up and stored the rock in her pocket. Linhardt grunted and moved his head to the other side.

---

As the dinner bell rang, Claude entered the dining hall, hungry for a nice and warming tomato soup. He picked up his share of dinner when he saw a waving Sylvain in the back of the hall. He sighted and ruffled his hand through his hair. Guess, I won’t be able to escape now. He made his way to the table where Sylvain and some others already sat. As he passed by the professors table, he sent a sheepish wink to his teach, only to be stared at with a unimpressed look, as usual. He let himself drop loudly onto the seat, sending an expectant glance to Sylvain.

"This better be good.“

"Oh Claude, you have no idea. As you are a man of class, you will fully understand that this is going to be grand.“

Raising an eyebrow, he inspected the rest of the group. Dimitri was staring his cheese-baked chicken to a second death, whilst Ignatz and Ashe were scooting impatiently around their seats. What a weird party to be sitting in.

"So, what troubles are you up to now?“

"I overheard Professor Manuela yesterday. They are reopening the bathhouse this evening!“

Sylvains excitement showed all over his face up to his ears. The bathhouse was only available to professors and some selected knights and staff members of the monastery. So technically, there was nothing to be so eager about. But he was Claude von Riegan and after spending quite some time at the academy, he also knew who Sylvain Jose Gautier was.

"Sylvain, you know that I don’t ever miss out on the opportunity for a nice little rebellion. But please don’t tell me you plan to sneak into the bathhouse and peek on Professor Manuela. I mean come on, she is doing well for her age. But it’s not like you don’t have enough girls walking around with half her age. This is low, even for you“

Sylvain’s smirk just widened. "I knew it, you are a smarty-pants! Well, Professor Manuela for sure is still quite a snack“ – Ignatz shivered – "but of course she won’t be going alone.“

Claude didn’t like where this was going.

"She will meet up with Shamir, Catherine aaaand your beloved professor Byleth.“

Claude choked on his first spoon full of soup, spitting it across the table on Ashe’s potato stew.

"What, what are you talking about? And why would you be interested in Shamir…or Catherine... or teach…“ As his mumbling grew quiet, he knew how unconvincing his response sounded.

"Oh come on, not even a blind person would miss out on how you cling to her, begging for attention and praise.“ Sylvain rolled his eyes. "Not saying you have a bad taste. I mean, look at those –“

A loud and painful sounding thump below the table meant the second kick for Sylvain on this day.

"Ouuuch, okay, sorry, sorry. No need in getting all sour. So, will you be joining? Because you can’t hold us back. We are in the middle of our youth and man, it’s really hard just getting the tiniest glimpse of bare female skin while being in this stuck up academy. Especially with having Ingrid lurking around us. Or Seteth.“

"Oh, poor thing are you now, Sir Gautier? And how did these lovely gentlemen get the honor to be part of your super secret and guaranteed successful mission? They sure don’t look like the usual suspects if you ask me.“

Ignatz looked away in hot shame, while Ashe’s face was ridden with confusion. Dimitri messed up his place with cheese all over his plate, not being able to make usage of his normally graceful table manners.

"Well, I couldn’t ask Ferdinand, as he is a little telltale for his extra praise of the day. He would give our plan away immediately, if not being a loud mouth with it for everybody to hear. And my granny is more fun than Hubert or Dedue, Linhardt would be too lazy anyways, so I didn’t give them a thought. Caspar is away on a mission to his father’s lands.“

"You could have asked Raphael.“ Claude knew it sounded stupid, but he just wanted to annoy the hell out of Sylvain for this even more stupid plan of his.

"Are you serious? I’m not seeing Rapahel sneaking around the bathhouse. I even doubt he would understand what we would be doing there in the first place.“

Ignatz coughed and with reddened cheeks he intervened. "Raphael‘s stealth skills got a lot better since Shamir taught him… well, how to breathe. He moves around much more gently.“

Skeptical faces watch him in silence. "Well, like gently… considering that he still is…Raphael...“ His voice died out.

Sylvain inhaled for his next sentence. "So, yeah, whatever. These boys should finally learn about the beautiful nature the sight of a female body beholds, so these are the chosen ones and the two of us should guide them.“ He tightened his chest as if he was being terribly proud of himself.

"Ah so, but may I interrupt your nonchalant tittle-tattle and seat myself as a man of true acknowledgment in this subject?“

Sylvain snorts in amusement, whilst Claude puckers his face into a grimace when Lorenz seated himself unbidden to Dimitri’s side.

"True Acknowledgment of what exactly?“ Claude poked his spoon around his soup.

"Well, of the female wonders we are blessed with. In mentally but also physical sense. Don’t you always pretend to be all knowing and overly experienced. Just as myself, you haven’t found yourself a damsel of noble heritage to be the chosen future mother of your children. If you keep slacking off, the chances of House Riegan to maintain their…“

The third thump on this day wasn’t less painful but for once not directed towards Sylvain.

"How dare you talk like that about…“ Claude cut himself off. It wasn’t typical of him losing his head so easily, but almost everything about Lorenz made his gut heat up in hot annoyance. He had to think quick. There was no way, he would be able to put Sylvain off his ridiculous plan and especially not now with Lorenz joining in. Whilst he himself did always enjoy the company of lovely women, he was never seriously entrapped by meaningless female charm addressed towards him. When women chose to be around him, it was mostly for his looks or title, he had a lot in common with Sylvain regarding that matter. But as soon as they couldn’t keep up with his twisted mind or everlasting curiosity for the secrets of those around him, they fled due his lacking interest in them. As he was still a man, he did have thoughts as every other healthy male his age had. He just didn’t give in to them as easily as his classmates did. And besides that, since quite some time it wasn’t about women in general. Mostly, he only had one specific one in his mind. He let his eyes wander around the hall, until his gaze met his dark blue-haired target. Of course, this would only be because of learning efforts and the curiosity in her person. After all, she was a mysterious being, with her fighting and tactical skills, yet still so clueless about the events of this country. When her focused eyes roamed through class, he felt transparent every time she got stuck on him. As if she would be able to read his mind and heart toroughly until there was no secret left within him. Even though most students would still be confused with her lack of showing emotions, he got good at reading the signs her body language and face gave off. The way she walked along the hallway, she small blushes when she felt joy, little smiles for her student’s successful efforts. The hums when she took a stroll to the gardens or even just when she drifted off, as if her head got stuck far away from where her body was.

"What’s with the creepy grin?“

His mind returned to the table, facing the currently two biggest perverts in this hall, maybe even on the monastery grounds. Okay, besides Professor Manuela probably. There was no way, he would let them drool over the sight of his bathing teach. He was trying to convince himself that this was only for moral reasons and the best intentions. Although it was hard lying to himself. Deep within, he knew that the thought of the scenery pierced his gut and heart with painful jealousy. He had to manipulate Sylvain’s plan and disturb them. In the smallest corner of his head, there was also a voice cheering him on, the thoughts of her pale and sweaty skin shining like silk in the foggy air of the bathhouse. Her curvy figure, wet hair, slim and muscular legs and big –

"Still being creepy. But I guess that’s a yes then.“ Sylvain just emptied his plate, when Claude's mind snapped back.

"No worries my fellow comrades, we will succeed. As I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester – “ He got cut off by a flying potato thrown towards him, ending up on the table. A „Shut up Lorenz!“ echoed through the dining hall. Lorenz blinked unimpressed and flicked the mushy vegetable away, sending it onto Ash’s plate.

"We will meet at dawn behind the east entrance to the bathhouse. And not a single word about this to anyone.“ As Sylvain set the time, he stood up and dragged Dimitri along the aisles. Lorenz gave Claude a last disgusted look before he also turned away and left for the exit. Ignatz looked troubled and uneasy whilst Ashe stared at this plate in sheer disappointment. Both of them picked up their dishes and waddled away. Claude stayed behind with his mind wandering off to the coming evening and about how he could manage to crush their perverted little dreams.

---

The hours passed by and Claude came up with… absolutely nothing. Every time he tried to focus his normally well-functioning brain around a scheme, the face of his teach popped up in his damped head, blocking him off from anything efficient. He would need to get creative and work with what he would be confronted with. After changing into a comfy brown tunic and some loose white pants, he carefully strolled to the bathhouse, hands in his pockets, trying to avoid any contact with wandering students or professors. When he arrived at the east entrance, everybody except for Ashe was already waiting for him.

"Ashe won’t be coming, so we can start operation peek-and-peep.“

"What, why won’t he come? And sheeesh, that name is horrifying, please don’t call it… that. Good thing you are not the tactical mastermind of your class.“

Sylvain shrugged. "Dunno, I guess he chickened out. But that’s fine, we have all the elites gathered around in a brotherhood of joint ambitions!“

Claude raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t exactly proud for the „brotherhood“ being greatly consistent of Golden Deer men. He brushed Sylvain’s furious speech aside with a gesture of his hand and pointed over to Dimitri. "What’s with him, he doesn’t look so good.“

"Aaah, he’s fine. Just needs to get out of his comfort zone from time to time. He will get used to it, right your highness?“ With a big claps upon his back, Dimitri stumbled forward, his face almost as pale as his chicken from lunch. He didn’t give away any sound and only nodded once in an almost unnoticeable movement.

Sylvain cleared his throat. "Alrighty then, so here is the plan. The ladies went in some time ago, so they should be already bathing. We sneak in, look for their belongings, get rid of those and then head off to the bath.“ He concluded with a wave of his hand.

Claude’s hand smacked his forehead, disbelieving of what he just heard. "What? We were never talking about actually stealing their stuff. Do you want to get us killed? Do you have any idea, what Shamir and Catherine will do to us if we get caught? And why the hell would you do that anyway?“

Lorenz straightened himself and crossed his arms. "I think of this as a marvelous idea. For once, this shall be a great training session for our stealth skills. For second, they may be outstandingly skilled knights, doing a great service to the monastery and academy. But they still are commoners without the understanding of which great sacrifices us nobles need to make for the sake of the common people. This should serve as a lesson to not meddle around with the complex noblese correlations.“

Claude’s amused laugh echoed throughout the empty courtyard. "No, no, no, that’s not it. You, Lorenz, are offended by Catherine’s scolding that other day. You can’t take it that she would overthrow your nonsense noblese talk. And you, my bright shining love knight, can’t take it that Shamir refused to go on a date with you. So, is this a deep running hunger for revenge or what else? You really want to be part of this shameless charade Ignatz?“ Claude’s overly dramatic gesture left Ignatz sweating in rather unsure conditions. He looked at the gound beneath his feet and fiddled with his glasses as he responded.

"Well, if you put it like that…“

"Hold it right there!“ Sylvain vigorously raised his hand and interrupted before Ignatz could think about it any further. "You are right. But this is not only for the sake of satisfaction but rather about the joyous appreciation of youth. So don’t dare you manipulate my inquisitive fellow comrades, and… ah, ah, ah“ – he raised a warning finger as Claude turned to Dimitri – "you are not allowed to speak to his highness. This is just for the best of him and I won’t let you ruin this for him. And by the way, don’t pretend to be the hero of the day, I know exactly what you are trying to do here.“ He started to grin deviously as his face moved closer to Claude’s ear, just for him to hear his following whisper. "No worries, letting others peek at her will not take anything away from you. But should you go back on this as well, then I won’t guarantee that I will only leave it at staring – “

The red-hair quickly ducked away from a swing of Claude‘s fist flying towards his face. The Golden Deer’s leader understood that this was merely a lighthearted tease serving for Sylvain’s pure entertainment. He knew that teach had fully seen through the playboy’s way of messing around and meddling with promises. She would rather just stare him to the ground or teach him a lesson within training sessions. Her personal favorite seemed to be letting him spar against the few female classmates he didn’t seem to notice as flirting objects because of questionable reasons, just leading him to actually underestimating them. Normally, it was about him avoiding Lysithea’s raging and painful spells or preventing Leonie from smashing in his flawless face with a weapon of her choice. This kept his mind busy, his mouth shut and raised the girl‘s self confidence massively. Ah yes, his teach had a great sense for sarcasm and deep-running life lessons. Never make a woman angry, neither on nor off the battle field.

As Sylvain fixed his hair, he grinned mischievously. "Now, now. No reason for violence. Shall we be on our way then?“ Without waiting for any responses, he gripped Dimitri’s arm, who was dangerously near a mental meltdown and dragged him towards the entrance. Ignatz slowly followed, whereas Lorenz couldn’t restrain himself from bumping into Claude before walking inside the bathhouse.

"Tss, ruuude…“. Claude scratched his head. This didn’t work as planned. He wouldn’t give up just yet, so all he could do was joining them.

Sneaking past the first few empty rooms, the group made their way towards the women’s dressing room. Since he was a well-behaved young man, Claude actually hasn’t been to the bathhouse before. He got the suspicion that wasn’t the case for Sylvain since he confidently leaded them to a certain chamber. They gathered silently, the room was lit up with some candles and oil lamps. He didn’t even have the time to view the clothing and other belongings piled up and stored in the wooden shelves. Sylvain took a quick swoop of everything he could grab and shared a handful with Ignatz.

"Let’s get that out of reach. Lorenz, get the towels. Let’s just hide them in another room, so we can – Dimitri, where are you going?“ Dimitri flinched as he tried to sneak away in silence and returned to the group with a sigh.

"There is no need for further delays. Let’s just dispose of the gatherings.“ Lorenz went straight for the window and tossed his arm full of towels outside. "This is actually quite thrilling, my heart is bursting from fulfilling excitement“. He turned around to Ignatz and snatched his sharing of clothing away.

Ignatz’s doubtful frown lets Claude smirk. So his classmates have finally reached their rebellious phase. This was a actually childish prank but as the boys never aligned to the enjoyment of scheming before, he could slightly understand their excited and adrenaline-filled mood. He was almost proud of them, if it wasn’t for the people they were actually pranking. His number one rule was all about knowing your prey and preparing for the best way about using or handling them. Every scheme could also fall into pieces because of unknown circumstances, there was never a way of finally ridding every risk. For those cases, the master tactician also had to be prepared to bear the consequences. In this case, Claude was almost certain he wasn’t ready to deal with the wrath of Shamir and Catherine. Professor Manuela would probably just be flattered about a male object actually taking interest in her in any way at all. As for teach… he thought he knew a lot about her in the meanwhile. But in scenarios like these, he could hardly imagine how she would react. Would she be annoyed or furious? Or would she simply not care, her face plastered with her usual indifference? He was sure he didn’t really want to know.

After Lorenz got rid of the towels and clothing, Sylvain shrugged "Oh, what the hell“ and also tossed his share of blouses and trousers out into the early night. "Now to the fun part, forward to the baths my comrades!“

Sneaking for several minutes around the building, they reached the women’s baths. They silently listened for any sounds coming from within. The deep voice of Catherine and hysterical laugh of Professor Manuela clearly rung through the hall and couldn’t be unheard. Sylvain grinned and gestured the boys to follow him quietly. They barely crawled on the floor to get past them unseen until they reached a safe spot behind one of the few pillars in the room.

This is just cringy, you’re not that type of creep to be doing this, Claude scolded himself while finding a spot to hide in. The boys could benefit from the damp and misty air, reducing the sight across the room to a minimum. But then of course, it also wasn’t playing into their hands from reaching their actual goal here. The silhouettes of three people shimmered through the foggy air, they could hardly be seen.

"WHAAAT? No, you did not dare to do that!!“

"Oh you bet I did, and right after that, I smacked him right in the middle of his little unmanly parts!!“

Matching her nickname, Catherine‘s thundering voice echoed through the hall, only to be beat by Professor Manuela‘s deafening howling. Man, this was screaming for headaches. How could anyone possibly be voluntary part of this?

"Sounds amusing. Please let me know before you confront him again, Catherine.“ Shamir‘s monotone voice was carried over to their ears. The women’s weird dialogue of gossiping and nasty details of things, nobody ever wanted to know about, continued for several minutes.

Claude figured that teach wasn’t in the bath although he wasn’t even sure, she was here with them at all, since he never had a chance to look at the clothing. He wasn’t interested in their old ladytalk and turned to the others beside him.

"I’m out of here“, he whispered. Sylvain rolled his eyes in annoyance, Lorenz leaned further toward the voices, trying to catch a glimpse of anything. When looking over to Dimitri, he noticed the begging look on his face, asking for saving from this humiliating position, while being tugged back by Sylvain. Claude shrugged apologetic and sneaked his way back to the hallway.

When he made it unseen outside of the baths, he dared to normally walk the rest. He was almost at the doors they entered from, when he heard hasty footsteps. No, they weren’t hasty. It was more of a…running? He turned around quickly, only to see a panicked pack of pathetic fools sprinting his way. The sheer horror in their eyes could not be a good sign. Claude took the next turn, not caring for any actual direction. All that mattered now was surviving. When he came to stop, he recognized the room, it was the one where they started this ridiculous nonsense. The women’s dressing room.

He panted from his short sprint here and looked around. Wasn’t there anywhere to hide himself away from the demonic doom that otherwise should await him? As he tried to think of something quickly, he heard steps coming up the hallway. This was it, this was to be the end to the heir of house Riegan. Since there was no time left and nothing to help him hide, he squeezed himself as tightly as possible against the corner behind the door, opening it as far as possible to cover him. Claude barely managed to stay still, trying to breathe out flat and quiet. The steps came closer, a gentle tip-tap through the disconcerting silence of the hallway. His thoughts began to rush. Gentle? Tip-Tap? He recognized the movement by sound. There was no way he would not. Please don’t. The steps stopped at the entrance and then entered the room. There was a mumbling of „Forgot the towel“, then the door was being moved to shut. Before his eyes, the scenery played itself in slow-motion.

When the door clicked into the lock, she noticed the figure lurking behind the door. As a former mercenary, her sharp instincts kicked in, and she took a forceful and unexpected swing of her fist to the strangers gut. But it wasn’t a stranger.

When her fist dug itself deeply into Claude’s stomach, the air escaped his lungs all at once. He collapsed to his knees and struggled to breathe. Well, I guess I deserve it for today. He got it worse from Hilda. As he gathered some air, he looked up.

"Heya teach! What a lovely evening, isn’t it? I’m quite surprised to meet you here, heheheeee…“ He coughed and cut off his awkward try of … whatever it was. Just then, it hit him hard, harder than the fist from a minute ago. Byleth was towering above him, with a slightly confused look on her face. While being completely bare. She wasn’t wearing anything at all, her hair was dripping wet, glued to her shoulders. This can’t be happening. Of course she would be naked, the biggest idiots on these grounds tossed away anything wearable in this building, he screeched to himself. He stared intensively into her eyes, even if it seemed unbearable. If he dared to look away, he wouldn’t know where to rest his sight on. He didn’t even blink. These few seconds seemed more than a dozen minutes, before she began so speak.

"Claude, would you mind explaining to me, why exactly you are hiding behind this door?“

"Oh didn’t you know? Cyril was having troubles with rats in here and I volunteered to get rid of them. My good deed of the day, ehe…“

If it wasn’t his nonsense blabbering, it was the desperation in his trembling voice that was giving him away. He tried to keep it as steady as possible, but the unpredictability of this happening to him was even melting his smoothness away.

"That so? How nice of you. But you are right, I did see some of those rats loafing around here. You should try burning them, keeps them dead for good.“ Byleth‘s emotionless expression changed to a mocking grin. Claude faltered at her facial expression. Was that…amusement? She clearly wasn’t bothered by the state of her standing in front of him, with nothing to hide. She didn’t give off any sign of nervousness or anger.

Embarrassment. This was all her head was full of. Here she was, as Sothis and her parents created her and nothing was going to stop this student of hers to soak in everything of her with his simple stare. Except that he didn’t actually do that. He focused his eyes strictly on hers, the deep shimmering forest green taking her own glance all in. Even now, he didn’t seem to lose his cool, except for the painful blow to the gut. Well, he deserved that. Sothis chuckled from the depths of her mind. She wanted to run or just throw herself on the floor, covering herself with everything she got. She wasn’t one to be bothered with her body. Full of scars and traces of her former life, she was proud of the strength and speed she possessed. She was also aware of her curves and the bewitching effect it could have on men. After all, she used it from time to time for distraction purposes, being mostly the last pleasant sight for her prey. But here and now, her head was a mess. Of all people on these grounds, why did he have to be here? Byleth felt a big lump in her throat, and she could swear she was about to choke on it. Before she could think any further about it, she heard a wild trample in the hallway.

"I know you are still here! I will get you and tear off those fancy pants of yours and I will hang you upside down by your feet at the gates of these very holy grounds. THREE DAYS LONG!!“ Catherine‘s furious roar roamed the hallway, her stomping steps close to the women’s dressing room.

Claude was prepared to die. Or at least to get hanged upside down by his feet. Naked. But before he could either move or say anything, Byleth stumbled towards him, dragging him up, from his still kneeling position and pressing onto him, against the wall, behind the door. He gave off some uncontrollable shocked screech, when the door flung open. Byleth covered his mouth and nose with her hand, daring him to stay silent. As the door wasn’t open very wide, she moved herself even closer to him, to keep both of them pressed against the corner of the room. Catherine’s angry steps slapped on the floor. She seemed to inspect the room for anything unusual. Claude held his breath, but it wasn’t because of Catherine. His heart raced so loudly against his chest, he feared his teach might hear the beat. He could feel her leaning in on him, with her full weight. He didn’t dare to move his hands, since he wouldn’t know where to place them anyway. The heat began to creep into his face. She had to get off him as fast as possible, otherwise –

She suddenly placed her head against his chest, breathing softly against his collarbone. He almost coughed at her unexpected movement. Focus, Claude! But everything about this moment shattered every little piece of his mind he had left. Her wet hair tickled his face, whilst her bare breasts pressed onto him. Her legs were placed between his and tried to maintain stability for the sake of both of them. A shiver ran through his body and made him break out in sweat.

Catherine was still yapping and cursing all over the room, apparently she was on the lookout for their clothing and towels. Whilst seconds begin to feel like hours, Byleth tried to get a more comfortable standing and just ended up completely leaning onto Claude. Even though the danger of being spotted in this very questionable position was hanging over them, she couldn’t restrain herself from her thoughts wandering off. To this very man she was standing next to, naked from head to toes. His scent of pine needle tea and foreign spices clouded her mind. It was familiar to her, but for some time now, this was what she imagined what a fresh breeze of wind would smell like. She could feel his heartbeat while laying her head on his chest. A steady but rushed pondering, a sound she herself wasn’t familiar with, since she didn’t have a heartbeat of her own. But this, this was the sound of life. Of his life. She curled her fingers in his tunic and buried her head into his neck. After a moment passed by, she felt his hands on her back, pulling her into a light embrace. She wouldn’t mind for this moment to last even longer than it felt.

The door was shut with a loud smack. Catherine has left the room in frustration, heading off on her search for her prey and some clothes. The pair in the corner remained motionless. Byleth moved her head slightly, Claude opened his resting eyes again, fully drawn into this moment. Their gazes locked into each other as they slowly moved towards the other one, only just inched separating them -

A loud screeching from further down the hallway threw them back into reality. Claude immediately backed off, staring at the door in uncertainty. He heard a panting and damped voice coming towards their room. He turned his gaze back to his teach, only to be overwhelmed by the reddish marks on her face. Byleth opened her mouth to say something, but before she had the chance to do so, Claude moved away from the corner and pulled off his tunic. He reached it out to her whilst looking away.

"So, before this gets anymore awkward than it already is, although I doubt that is even possible, please wear this, would you?“

She raised an eyebrow but took up on his offering. She pulled the tunic over her head, fitting easily into the fabric, since it was suited for a male body. The length covered half of her thigh, hiding her most private parts. "Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen most of it now, hm?“ she huffed in a dry voice.

His sassy grin returned to his face as he looked at her again. "Oh no Teach, you don’t understand. Unfortunately, I have some fellow travelers, who got lost on their way home. And to be honest, I’d rather not share my earnings of tonight“, he winked as her mouth fell open.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me. For the sake of Fódlan, I shall rush to the rescue of his highness to spare him of the eternal shame of public naked gawking. We don’t want Professor Manuela drooling all over his noble abs.“ And with that, he dropped himself to a deep bow before hopping around the corner, not leaving her any chance to respond or hold him back. His guess got confirmed as he spotted Dimitri lurching disorientated around the hallway.

"Run“, he shouted, grabbing his arm while sprinting past him. Dimitri’s confusion turned into relief as he recognized Claude, running along. They ran toward the end of hallway, Claude pointing to the window. „JUMP!“

Dimitri didn’t even have time to think about it and just got dragged with Claude, out into the cool breeze of the night, as they both roughly fell onto the ground.

"Sheeeh, I swear I could hear Catherine’s snorting right behind me“. Claude got up and patted the dirt from his loose pants. He held out his hand to Dimitri. The prince still sat on the ground, staring at Claude, when he broke into loud laughter as he took his hand. He stood up and both of them moved away from the bathhouse. Dimitri still barked out loud and could barely get a grip. Claude’s heart warmed up, he never saw Dimitri laughing like this before and it suited him fantastic. While walking back to the dorms, he moved his arms behind his head, gazing at the giggling prince.

"What’s so funny?“

"That was just hilarious. First, I was torn about Sylvain’s plan, not leaving me be in peace with this evening. But this was just… fun. I guess, he did have some point, about just enjoying youth. When there is hardly much else to enjoy.“

Claude flinched. He didn’t agree with Dimitri there, but now was not the time and place to argue over such issues. "Well, I’m glad you had fun.“

"Oh by the way, what happened to your tunic?“

Claude looked upon the sky, gazing at the constellations he knew by heart since childhood. "Uhh, don’t know. Just kinda, you know….lost it.“ He knew he had Big fat lie ridden all over his face, but what happened tonight was his little treasure to keep to himself.

Dimitri looked at him knowingly in silence, not asking further questions.

"So, did you actually see anything? That was Sylvain’s goal for you and Ignatz, right?“

The prince snorted loudly. "Yeah well, we did see a fierce Catherine rampaging towards us. But you know, Sylvain likes to underestimate me in some matters. As a matter of fact, I did witness things he could only dream of. And I certainly know that he does dream about it – unfortunately for me.“ He puckers his face.

"Hmm, interesting. If I combine that statement, my skilled observation and knowledge about the two of you, my educated guess would be that it has to do with our dear sweet lady Ingrid.“

Dimitri chuckled. "Claude, you are way too nosy. This will get you into big trouble one day. Curiosity killed the cat after all. But by all means, the story with Ingrid just happened by accident.“

Claude peeked over at him. "Well maybe that goes for big cats, but certainly not for deer. And sure, it’s always an accident. Me losing my tunic was also one.“

They silently walked back to their rooms, when cries of agony and fear echoed throughout the night. As Mercedes would tell one of her legendary stories, it is said, that the bathhouse beholds the cursed spirits of every student trying to get into the building secretly, awaiting a painful and everlasting nightmare brought over them by a furious witch. Since that very night, no student dared to go near the bathhouse anymore.

---

When Claude jumped away out to the hallway, Byleth felt the heat crawling up to her head. What did just happen? The unknown emotion teared at her insides, filling her up with euphoria and nausea at the same time. Was she getting sick? Sothis knocked on the inside of her mind. „Oh child, you truly know nothing of this world and their people. I wish for you to keep giving yourself in to all of these new impressions, with me being at your side to aid you. You may contain the soul of a god-like creature but you still remain human. And as a human, you shall be fulfilled with emotions and ambitions in order to find what you seek …“

As usual, Sothis’words were those of a mystery for her. But she began to understand the true meaning to those whispers within her mind. Her fingers ran through the thin fabric of the tunic, as she pulled it up to her face, inhaling the scent of forests and wind.

Shamir walked in, undisturbed of the happenings of that night. "Did you see my armor? Or my towel? They somehow went missing.“ Byleth shook her head. Shamir looked skeptic. "Where did you find that top? Doesn’t look like your size.“

Byleth shrugged and put her stony face back on. "Found it.“

Shamir had the same indifferent expression as she left the room.

"Lucky you.“

#fe3h #fanfic #fire emblem claude #claude von riegan #byleth #dimitri blaiddyd #sylvain gautier #fire emblem three houses #claude x byleth #lorenz hellman gloucester #golden deer

[rohirric-hunter]

Insight World -- Chapter 3

AO3 FF.net

Chapter 1 ● Chapter 2 ● Chapter 3  ● Chapter 4 ● Chapter 7

July 27th, 2010

Steve Rogers had always been good at applicable geometry. As a child he had beaten all of his playmates so soundly at marbles that they eventually banned him from games. As a teen he had paid for medicine and sometimes even rent by showing up at pool halls and intentionally playing badly, then driving the betting pool up and taking all the other players to school. And in his twenties he had become Captain America, and he had learned how to hone and weaponize skills he already had in order to bring down enemies on the battlefield.

Aiming his shield was easy. Steve ran his mental calculations three times, just to be sure, as there was no room for error, but he was right the first time. His shield cleared the heads of the people in front of him, bounced off the nearest pillar on the Lincoln Memorial, and then sharply turned downwards and shattered the guard’s hand, clattering to the ground between the guard and Stark, surrounded by pieces of the gun.

The people split in front of him like the Red Sea. Men in riot gear decorated with Hydra patches started toward him. Steve pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired it into the row of men before they could fully prepare themselves. The first three dropped dead immediately, but the fourth managed to raise a bulletproof riot shield. Steve lowered his gun without wasting the shot and ran forward instead, leaping into the air at the last minute and landing his entire weight on the top of the shield. The man behind it was crushed into the pavement. A fifth guard pointed a pistol of his own around the edge of his shield. Steve shot the hand holding the pistol and then spun around, running toward Iron Man and the guards standing around him.

There had been six guards, each with a weapon of some sort trained on the prisoner, but now there were only three, and even as Steve ran forward one of them raised a gun and fired twice in quick succession. The other two guards crumpled and the last one turned on Pierce, who had already raised a gun of his own and pointed it at the man. Steve reached the top of the steps and scooped up his shield, sliding it onto his arm. He turned back to the crowd as bullets rat-tat-tatted against the surface of his shield. One of the riot guards holstered his handgun and hoisted up an eerily familiar weapon. Steve dodged the energy bolt from the Tesseract-enhanced weapon and shot the man holding it. A gunshot sounded behind him and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the guard take a shot at Pierce, who dove out of the way, too late to dodge the bullet entirely. Clutching his arm, he ducked inside the Memorial. Steve toyed with the idea of throwing his shield after him, but the sight of Tony Stark bending over to get a gun from one of the dead guards reminded him that he had not come here to stop Alexander Pierce.

“Cover me!” he shouted to the guard, whose features were still hidden by the mask of a high-ranking Hydra agent. “Put your hands on the ground and spread them out,” he said to Stark.

“You weren’t part of the plan,” the guard observed as he fired at approaching enemies.

Steve slammed the edge of his shield into the ground between Stark’s hands, shattering the link that held the cuffs together.

“Yeah, ‘cause you clearly had everything under control,” Stark said. He picked up a gun and added to the defensive fire. “I like the plan where I don’t get shot. Speaking of plans, did you have an exit plan? Either of you?”

“Head out the north side,” the guard said.

Steve turned and glanced between the colossal pillars and the wall, putting the gun back in his pocket in preparation to use his shield with both hands. The escape route was already full of police with riot shields. A quick look confirmed that the south side was as well. “Not an option,” he said. “They’re trying to block us in.” Both groups were coming closer, and a line was assembling at the foot of the steps.

“Change of plans, Natasha,” the guard said. “Bring the car around front. Watch out for civilians. There are still a few stragglers.” Most of the so-called stragglers were huddled together with phones out, pointed at the three men at the top of the steps. “Get down the steps!” he shouted.

Steve threw his shield, taking out a Hydra agent who had lowered his shield just a little too much. It bounced off a pillar and he caught it as it came back. As the three of them started down the steps, their enemies closed in faster. The guard and Stark went on ahead, while Steve followed up the rear, covering himself with his shield and taking out following guards. His gun ran out of bullets after five shots, and he dropped the magazine. Before he could reload with the spare magazine in his back pocket, he spotted another agent raise an energy weapon. The gun clattered to the ground as he grabbed Stark with his free hand and jerked him to the side. The energy bolt shot over the heads of the civilians, who scattered, babbling as they did so.

A black Prius circled around the monument from the north and pulled to a halt near the prison truck. The passenger side window rolled down and a woman leaned out, a gun in each hand, and started shooting the riot guards at the bottom of the steps, most of whom were facing away from her. “Always changing plans at the last minute, Clint,” she shouted.

“Oh, you know me,” the guard said. “Just can’t make up my mind on these things.” He ran down the last few stairs, shooting two guards in his path, threw open the passenger side door, and jumped into the car. Stark followed, and Steve slammed the door shut just in time for a few bullets to bounce off of it.

“Who the hell is this?” the woman asked as she hit the gas, twisting around the south side of the Memorial.

The guard, Clint, pulled his mask off and ran his hand through short brown hair. “Who the hell are you?” he asked Steve.

“I’m Captain America,” Steve said, distracted by a pain in his left arm. He slid his shield off his arm and discovered that one of the straps had cut through the fabric of his shirt and sliced into the skin just above the inside of his elbow. It was red and swollen, but not deep, so he ignored it and snapped his attention up to the other people in the car. The woman was driving, but the two men were staring at him, two pairs of eyebrows climbing skyward. “It’s a long story,” he said.

The car shook as it drove over a low median. “We weren’t planning on shooting our way out of this one,” the woman said. “Stark, I need you to try to calibrate the license plate camouflage.”

Stark started to climb over the console. “You haven’t gotten that up and running yet?” he asked.

“Johnson and Tortels were caught a couple of months back because their blue Ford F-150 matched to a hot pink Thunderbird’s plate,” Clint offered.

“What year?” Stark asked as he slid into the seat, popped open the glovebox, and pried open a panel inside. “Some Thunderbird models have similar unused fuel levels. That might be confusing the emissions sensor.” Inside the panel was a small screen with a keypad. Stark started tapping away. “I don’t suppose we have time to make a pit stop at the hardware store? I need some palladium.”

“Dare I ask what for?” Clint asked.

“They’ve got a read on my arc reactor’s energy signature. I can make it some better shielding when I get tools, but until then I’m a walking tracking device. If I replace the core with palladium the signature will be different enough that they should lose it.” Stark grabbed a small screwdriver from the glovebox and pried the screen off of the panel, revealing a motherboard beneath it.

“Get rid of it,” said the woman. “We came prepared.” She reached into the console and pulled out a round glowing blue object. “Your last model. The energy signatures should be different enough.”

“Exactly how often do you go rooting through my trash, Romanoff?” Stark asked. He leaned back to pull up his shirt and twist something in his chest. A few seconds later, he lifted a similar glowing blue circle away from himself, trailing coiled wires. Once he had it out, Romanoff rolled down the passenger side window. Stark chucked the arc reactor out of it without a second glance.

“Wow,” said Barton. “I thought you were gonna make a bigger deal out of that.”

“I have to make some changes to the design,” Stark said. “Nothing significant, just enough to confuse them if they get their hands on it again. Power feedback loops, Trojan horse protocols. They studied the hell out of that. Couldn’t reproduce it, of course.” He slid the new reactor into the hole the old one had left and pulled his shirt down again. “Still don’t want to walk around with a powerhouse they have the blueprints to in my chest.”

Bullets bounced off the back of the car. Steve glanced over his shoulder to see the prison van in pursuit. As the woman slammed on the brakes and turned them onto another street, a military vehicle with a gun mounted on top came from the other direction. “We’ve got almost a mile to go before we can get on the interstate,” Romanoff said. “Clint, get them off our trail, will you?”

Clint nodded and leaned forward. He opened a case under the driver’s seat and retrieved a quiver of arrows from it, slinging it across his back. Then he leaned down and got a bow. A press of a button opened a sunroof over the back seat, and he put his head through it and then immediately pulled it back down as a hail of bullets hit the top of the car. “Cap,” he said. “Want to give me some cover?”

Steve nodded and climbed, shield first, out of the sunroof, then slid down the back window until his feet hit the spoiler. He braced himself there. Bullets bounced off his shield, and Clint popped up behind him and notched an arrow. The shield covered both of them until Clint straightened up to look over it, inhaling quickly and smoothly as he did. For a split second he stood upright, bow drawn fully back, and then he released the string. The arrow hit the prison truck in the tire and exploded and the vehicle swerved off the road, across a stretch of grass and a walking path, and crashed into the Potomac. Steve peered over his shield to see that now there were two military vehicles behind them. Even as he watched, the archer behind him took another one out. This one went across the median into the other lane of traffic, which was fortunately mostly empty. One car slammed on its brakes in time to prevent the airbags from going off, but not in time to prevent its front bumper from being crushed. The man standing in the back of the military vehicle took a few shots at them as they drove away, but soon it was left far behind.

The last car tried to weave back and forth, but to no avail. Its driver steered them to the median and managed to stop almost entirely on it, just as Romanoff started to merge onto the highway. Clint ducked down into the car and Steve followed, dropping onto the back console and then shifting into the right seat. Clint was putting his bow away.

“There will be more waiting for us on the other side of the river,” he said, just as the entrance ramp ended and they merged into traffic.

Stark replaced the panel in the glovebox. “And by then, there will be at least six other cars they’ll need to check out. The emissions sensors weren’t calibrated closely enough, but now this should only match with other Priuses. Color’s gonna have to wait until I can get under the car. Hey Romanoff, don’t drive next to any hot pink Priuses.” He closed the glove box and leaned back. “Don’t all thank me at once.”

Chapter 1 ● Chapter 2 ● Chapter 3 ● Chapter 4 ● Chapter 7

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu au #fanfiction #au #insight world #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #alexander pierce #hydra

[franklyshipping]

Marvin The Mischievous ~ A Septic Ego Series ~ Part 7

Things are hotting up in the series now as we come to out next part, now....lets see how Jackie-Boy Man fares against our aspiring cheeky villain. LET'S HECKIN GO PEOPLE!

TAGGING: @marvin-lee-magician @jackleeboy-man @the-dapper-switch @robbie-lee-zombie @robbie-the-zomblee @schneeplesteinthetickledoctor @chase-brody-thelee @the-survivelee-hunter @shawn-flynn-the-switch @shawnflynn-thetoymake-ler @anti-switch-glitch

Productive days are always pretty marvellous, you're engaged in your tasks and whenever you reach a stage of completion or success it just spurs you to push forward, to pump out thing after thing....and then that feeling of pride you have within yourself is like nothing else in the world. Jackie-Boy Man was enjoying such bliss right now as he wandered over to his exercise machinery in his training room. He'd re-sewed parts of his costume, filed away villain reports and organised them, had a nice lunch, and had organised a proper, safe exercise timetable for himself. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stretched, fully focused on getting into his workout mind-set.....and oblivious as to the events that had preceded this little scene. We can assume that his obliviousness won't last forever though. For now however, he got to work, focusing on biceps and triceps work with rowing, push-ups and light weights, having water and bites of energy bars at regular intervals so that he wouldn't get too tired but he'd also feel that he was testing his body, keeping it strong.

He was moving onto his final activity in this hour long session, pull-ups; they were the most gruelling, which is why he took the utmost care when performing them. He had water and an energy snack at the ready, the music coming from his radio helping to psyche him up as he reached up for the bar.....and began. He had a set order of things, do five pull-ups, stretch and take a drink, do five, stretch and have a snack, do five, drink, you get the idea; he intended to repeat the process until he'd done thirty, then he'd leave it for the day. He knew how to be sensible and not over-exert himself, as a superhero he always worked on maintaining and strengthening his physique and had worked hard to get to a point where his body could take more and more. Jackie was proud, and he deserved to be proud. He was well into his stride, breathing well and focusing on his pace....so he didn't notice that as he continued, the lights in the room started to flicker. It was only when Jackie reached his final five pull-ups that he noticed all was not well; he'd taken time with his snack-bite and looked around the room, and only then noticed the lights properly dimming down at a steady rate. Jackie was about to dismount the exercise and investigate, supposing a fuse was uneven or faltering somewhere; however as soon as the notion came to his mind....everything went downhill for him at once.

One, the lights went out and left the room in complete darkness, two, his radio somehow turned off despite it being wireless, and three.....Jackie couldn't move.

'Wh-what the hell?!'

Before you fret, Jackie's whole body hadn't been immobilised or frozen or anything of the sort....it just wouldn't be able to move away because something had bound Jackie's wrists to his pull-up bar. He was grunting and tugging, straining his eyes to try and gauge what was restraining him, but his mind and body were tired after his exercising so it was practically impossible for him to focus on getting his strength up. He'd been trapped at the perfect time of weakness.

'Okayokayokay think think c'mon Jackie think.....'

He forced his mind to whirr. This couldn't be the plot of one of his villains, primarily because he made sure none of them knew where he lived, but also because this didn't match any of their intimidation styles. Mainly because those villains HAD no style....whoever this was, they had flare and dramatics up their sleeve. He sighed. His mind jumped to Anti, ever the miscreant pulling tricks and the like; it made sense to him.

'Alright glitch bitch, c'mon joke's over!'

.....no reply. Huh. He was always the first to take credit for a wrongdoing, he was always proud of his own cheekiness after all. Jackie pursed his lips, thinking over it all again....maybe....maybe he'd been wrong. There had been no creepy, crackly laughter, no static from his radio; these were Anti's classic tactics, why would he abandon them now? Jackie huffed in frustration at his own brain as he thought-

'Boo.....'

'AHWHATTHEHELL?!'

Jackie jumped and yelped at the sudden whisper, shuddering as he felt the breath of the whisperer right over his ear and neck....behind him. Someone was standing behind him. The culprit was behind him. His....captor, was behind him. Jackie shivered again when the mysterious figure chuckled.

'Sorry to disappoint, but there's no glitch here.'

The voice of the man was deep, purring, smooth....just as Marvin intended. Yes, it was really him. No fancy tools or spells. Marvin had brainstormed so many plans and ideas and concepts for how to get Jackie.....but no thought was more satisfying than the notion of gliding his fingertips all over every weak spot he could find. Jackie meanwhile let out a grunt, trying to twist round to catch a glimpse of who it was, but he had no luck; Marvin began to drawl tauntingly.

'Finally, the great Jackie-Boy Man in my grasp....I can't wait to add you to my list of success.'

Marvin's eyes glittered deviously as he watched Jackie twist and squirm before him, he had to admit it was quite a beautiful sight. Jackie meanwhile was trying to get his head round this. A list. He wasn't the first to be involved in this presumably, but he wouldn't be able to understand what was happening until he got more information first....or rather, tried to.

'Who the hell are you? Why are you here? What are you planning?'

Jackie endeavoured to project boldness and insistence; lesson one of a captive situation, assert your own strength. However instead of making his captor feel taken aback, it seemed to merely amuse him.

'So many questions, but no answers for you, as of yet anyway.'

Jackie growled in frustration at how smug the person seemed, and tried even harder to look behind him; that made Marvin tut and sigh with exaggerated exasperation.

'And I'll be having none of that thank you very much!'

Marvin's cold fingers found the edges of Jackie's vest, and with much protesting, pulled it up over Jackie's face....so he could see nothing. The hero shivered when he felt his torso become exposed, and this blindfolding action made the previous darkness of the room feel like a blessing....this darkness was close, real, and intimidating. All that could be heard was Jackie's shaky breathing as he whispered.

'......wh-what are you g-gonna do to me?'

Oh how Marvin had longed to be posed that question. He leant in behind Jackie, and rested his chin on the hero's shoulder. He hesitated, just so he could listened to Jackie's hitching breaths and feel the warmth of his skin after his exercises, so soft and warm and beautiful-Marvin sharply inhaled. He needed to focus. He let out a small hum into Jackie's ear as he took a fingertip, and dragged it down one of his hollows.

'I'm going to make you my sweet victim, make you submit and crumble and wail for mercy....'

Jackie flinched and bit his lip, already wearing a flustered, shaky smile as he understood what his captor wanted to do to him. That single finger ignited the rest of Jackie's nervous system, as if every vulnerable place on his body was priming and preparing itself for what was to come. Jackie already knew he couldn't be defiant.....he knew the things that broke him, and this was weakness number one; he whimpered when Marvin continued to purr.

'I am going to tickle you until it's all your mind will ever know.'

Marvin was smirking softly against Jackie's ear, and he chuckled at Jackie's weak reply.

'......wh-why?'

Jackie waited with bated breath.

'Because it is the only thing....that I truly desire.'

Jackie-Boy Man was an instant mess of giggles....now, it had begun. Two hands were at work, ten fingers having their playtime. They were so light as they started at his hollows, swirling a few times before dragging themselves down, down, down, his ribs, playing them like a xylophone. After a bout of skittering at Jackie's delectable sides, they thus rose back up and merely continued to the process. Every time Jackie thought to himself....this time, this cycle, this sequence must be the last, he must be getting bored? But it didn't stop.

'P-Plehehease nohot thihihis plehease i-it'stoomuch!'

Marvin was grinning from ear to ear, still keeping his and Jackie's bodies close as he kept up his technique. He knew Jackie well you see, and he knew that intensity wasn't always the key to getting what you wanted. It was patience, knowledge....and having a good set of words.

'Poor hero, so affected by such lightness and what some may even consider a soothing touch....you're such a delicate thing aren't you?'

Jackie's cheeks burned as he shook his head, no no no he was strong and resilient, hard as nails.....hm. Though, with the way he squirmed and quivered and babbled the word please, perhaps he was more akin to being as soft as feathers.

'Nohohoho n-nohoho t-thahat's wrohohong!'

Marvin, unseen by Jackie, raised an amused eyebrow, and proceeded to let his lips brush Jackie's neck as he murmured in a growl-like tone.

'Wrong eh? So it doesn't make your heart quiver to think of how exposed you are in my grasp? How I could strike, change action, or do something on a whim....at any moment?'

Marvin was euphoric with the power and joy that came with having Jackie like this, the happiness that came from feeling him squirm and feeling his skin twitch at his touch was just beyond satisfying. Jackie had arched his back and thrown his head back, letting out whimpery wails of desperation as he tried to jerk away from the constant tickling, but it was no use. His captor's words were just the cherry on top because they were precisely true.

'Nohoho ihit f-fuhucking dohohoesn't! C'mohohon juhust lehehet me gohoho!'

At Jackie's whiney begging, Marvin felt his heart jump in his chest....he'd always found Jackie cute and amazingly sweet....but this was a new beauty. A beauty he wanted to see over and over again for as long as he could spend time with him. The hero in question was having a bit of an issue with sight ironically, amidst his squirming he was shaking his head to try and dislodge his vest, but his tormentor had secured it well.

'Oh but this is ever so fun isn't it?! You're so exposed for me, and I may never get another opportunity....so I intend to take my sweet time exploring you, sweet Jackie.'

And explore he did. Jackie was in paranoid ticklish agony, never knowing where his tormentor would tease or prod or scratch next. A stroke with a single finger down his spine made him squeal and jump, a poke to his navel made him snort and let out a half-cackle, and a lick to the shell of his ear made him shiver and bow his head out of embarrassment. This person didn't just tickle him....they ruined him.

'Fuhuhuck EEEK!! STAHAP!! T-TOHOHohoo mahany plahahaces-AHNATFAHAIR!!'

He was a mess of reactions, his vocals just didn't know what to do with themselves....it was frankly extremely adorable. Marvin was chuckling menacingly into Jackie's ear, just because he was having such a good time. Marvin had even stopped thinking about his endeavour....all he thought about was Jackie. He craved more of his laughter, snorts, squeals, begs....it all just sounded infinitely more stunning coming from him.

'You're just cursed with the most sensitive body in the world aren't you? Though....for me it's rather a blessing to see you so desperate.'

As Marvin teased, Jackie wailed. That voice. That deep echoing voice. It seemed everywhere at once, around him, in his mind, like a predator in itself on top of the sporadic strikes to his nerves. They were relentless. A flutter behind his knee made him kick out with a squeak, a nip to his neck made him whimper, a massage to his hip made him whine as he got caught between ticklishness and relaxation. Jackie's mind was caught in a limbo, it couldn't focus, he couldn't focus, and that proved to be most detrimental.

'PLEASEPLEHEHEASE IHIHI Cahahahan't tahahake ihit eheverywhEHERE!!'

Jackie was undoubtedly embarrassed that he was proving his captor's point about how desperate he was, but funnily enough the desperation took precedence within the hero. Marvin hummed and mused.

'Hmmm....but I find this ever so fun....catching you off guard and keeping you on alert. Why should I change my tactic?'

He grinned as he posed the question, tweaking at certain parts of Jackie's ribcage now which made the hero's reply lovely and yelp-filled.

'BehehecAHAUse Ihihi'm beheHEggihing yohohou!!'

Oh that was music to Marvin's ears. Jackie's hidden cheeks were magenta as he wriggled, eyes watery and nerves aching for relief from those dastardly digits of tickle torture. Marvin let out little thoughtful hums in the hero's ear, making a show of pondering as he traced his hipbones.

'Mm, a valid argument. So, instead of treating all of your nerves, would you be agreeable to, say....me choosing one place and remaining there....and only there?'

Jackie nodded without even having processed Marvin's words, all he heard was an end to the uncertainty and he jumped at the chance for that inviting mercy.

'YESYESYES OHOPLEASEYES!'

Jackie practically yelled with joy, and swiftly let out a gasp of happy relief when he felt the two offending hands draw back from his body for the first time. Jackie breathed deep as he listened out for his captor's reply. Though....he'd probably wish he hadn't, since it marked the bout of REAL tickle torture.

'As you wish.'

Marvin's voice trickled out in the form of a smooth growl....and that was the first sign to Jackie that he'd made a grave mistake.

'Wh-what do yo-AAAEEEEE!!! FAHAHAHACK NAHAHAHA SHIHIT!!!'

During his reply, Marvin had slowly but surely been manoeuvring so he was down on his knees....his head level with Jackie's legs. He had hugged one of Jackie's shins to his chest before going to town and nibbling every inch of Jackie's thigh that the cheeky magician could reach. 

'Now, now language! I knew I should have brought a gag.....'

Marvin teased as he nipped the flesh, Jackie's shrieking laughter spurring him to continue with true vigorous enthusiasm. The hero himself.....had never known such ticklishness. Sure, he'd been tickled countless times....but the situation, the technique, the place...all these circumstances combined just made the experience so unbearable and evil. Jackie had never felt more ticklish and weak, and it broke him.

'AHAHAHANYWHEHEHERE BUHUHUT THEHEHEEERE!!!'

Jackie cried out frantically, he was in disbelief. It tickled so damn much it tickled so damn much, the voice was echoing and teasing and....it was...almost....freeing, in a way. Jackie's mind hardly had the time to settle on any specific thoughts now of course, particularly with Marvin sneering.

'Not here? But this is what you asked for Jackie!'

Marvin's smirk was diabolical as he moved onto the second thigh, starting to reach the inner flesh which coaxed a new bout of mirth from Jackie.

'IHIHIHI DIHIHIDN'T MEHEAN IHIT LIHIKE THIHIHIHIIIIS!!!'

Jackie was thrashing like his life depended on it.....and that's when he realised. His captor had been right....true to his word.....''I am going to tickle you until it's all your mind will ever know.'' It WAS all that his mind knew.

'Oh Jackie....if only you had been specific before.'

Jackie thought he was going to scream at what his tormentor did next....he didn't even hear him take the breath, he only felt the sloppy raspberry rippling up and down his thigh.

'PLEHEHEHEEEEE IHIHIHIHI-!!!'

Jackie did scream....he couldn't hold it in, and Marvin was preparing himself to unleash an onslaught of that delectable fruit; but rescue reared its righteous head. There was suddenly a loud banging emanating from the door into the workout area, which made Marvin move sharply away from his task. Jackie could have cried out to the heavens right there and then as the barrage of muffled voices reached his ear, and he managed to gasp for air and whimpery thank yous trickled into the air from his lips. Marvin meanwhile couldn't help but frown....he hadn't finished.....but he concluded in his mind that he'd subjected Jackie to more than enough. He'd taken down the hero. Marvin observed Jackie's shivery form for a few moments....like he was thinking. Jackie sharply gasped when he felt a hand cup his covered face and a voice in his ear.

'It seems our time is to be cut short, dear hero.....goodbye. I hope you had as I did.'

Marvin planted a swift kiss where Jackie's hidden cheek was....then he was gone. No sooner had he dissipated away, there was a crash, and Jackie could hear the voices getting closer....familiar voices. The voices he needed.

'Qvick qvick, oh he must be exhausted-'

'Help me with the ropes dude, yeah yeah, okay get his vest....'

Jackie could see. He had to squint at first, since the lights were back like they'd never been tampered with at all. Then he saw them....everyone. His wrists had been released and he was being supported by Chase and the good doctor, both of whom were looking at him with concern. Jackie's senses were coming back to him at normal levels now, first the supportive hold of those two, then the feeling of someone holding his hand. Jackie blinked a few times, then smiled fondly to see Robbie cuddling one of his hands affectionately. Next was Jamie....the sweet mute man was dabbing his forehead with an intricate handkerchief whilst moving his hair....stroking it softly and fixing it back into place. Jackie could feel himself coming back to a state of calm security, the soothing contact working wonders.

'We were too late.'

Jackie blinked a few times as he looked to the side, curious as to the source of the gruff voice. Everyone else did too, and soon Shawn Flynn had everyone's attention. He'd been examining what had kept Jackie restrained....and at his words, everyone in the room seemed to understand what he meant. Except Jackie. The hero cleared his throat, looking around as he tried to speak.

'Wh-what....h-how....?'

'It's okay bud, we can explain everythin' to ye.'

Jackie tilted his head when he saw Angus approach him with a reassuring smile, he noticed Anti at his side too, they both seemed a little out of breath-ah. Of course. They'd been the ones to get the door off its hinges. Jackie looked at Angus patiently as he began to speak.

'Yer ah....not the first. To be....tickled uniquely. It's Marvin. He's had this....mission, seeking all of us as a task. Every time he gets someone he ticks em off. I only realised cuz he revealed himself to me...'

Angus' next few sentences became a little fuzzy for Jackie....all he could think about was Marvin. Marvin was saying those things, touching him like that....Marvin kissed him. Jackie could feel himself getting breathless so he snapped out of it, refocusing on Angus.

'-Anti's te' only one he hasn't gotten, but anyway te' point is we need a fuckin' plan to get him back!'

Before Jackie could reply properly, the room became filled with everyone's voices, and Jamie's signing, as suggestion after suggestion flew through; it was rather hectic, but when AREN'T the septics hectic?

'Ze important part is catching-'

'-see us coming though!'

'Not if we anticipa-'

'I'm gonna get that cheeky fuc-'

'OBVIOUS!'

Everyone. Frickin. Jumped out of their skins. Anti even glitched back a few centimetres when Robbie the Zombie interjected the rabble with quite some confidence. He bowed his head softly when everyone stared....but they were his family, so he continued resolutely. He raised his arm....and pointed.

'Last one. We.....set trap?'

Anti. He'd been pointing at Anti. Everyone realised simultaneously....of course Marvin had wanted to save Anti till last; victory over the glitch would be his crowning glory. Everyone shared a look....it was a look of agreement. Soon, seven pairs of eyes were locked onto Antisepticeye. It didn't take long for him to smirk resolutely and muse.

'Well....seven down, and one to go I guess.'

WOOOOOO I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN A FIC SO FAST H E C K YE WHO NEEDS SLEEP ahem I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT LUV YOOOOUS XXX

#septic series #septic series part 7 #marvin the mischievous #marvin the magnificent #marvin #jackie-boy man #jackie #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jameson jackson #jamie #robbie the zombie #robbie #chase brody #chase #dr schneeplestein #schneeple #angus the hunter #angus #shawn flynn #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luuuvv ma bois

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Tassle Pt 4

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Tags –

@himoverflowers​​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​​, @sweeticedtea​​, @ggbbhehe4455​​, @thegreyberet​​, @patanghill17​​, @jesgisborne​​, @curvestrology​​, @alishlieb​​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @abiwim​​, @jotink78​, @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​

…

Above you the great Mountains loomed. Along the path long since unused you trekked alone with a single caution from King Thror replaying in your mind. “The mines are deep. In all the centuries there must be some armor and weapons left yet.” Firmly he placed a sturdy dagger in its thick sheath gifted to him from his Father upon your parting along the path into your hand, “We haven’t the chance or supplies to arm you fully as we should. Search where you can, take what you can. Arm yourself no matter the material.”

“Your-.”

Firmly his hands circled yours again with a loving yet firm pleading glint in his eyes, “I swore to your Grandfather I would protect you should anything happen to him. Pay no mind to the value of what you take,” His hand squeezed yours a bit firmer, “You are worth far more than any vein of Mithril in those mines.” Your lips parted through your teary gaze matching his, “That’s an order my Dear.” With your nod you turned and followed the path as they followed another taking them home to regroup and return, all stealing glances at their seemingly unarmed kin venturing off into this death mission alone.

Alone through the cavernous pathway you traveled along the edges keeping watch of any scouts or patrols until you had reached a noted carving in the side of a large boulder usually missed if not looked at in the proper angle. Turning East you mentally counted the paces while your hand drew out a small key ring, one of three entrusted to you when fleeing Erebor, on the ring you found the largest of the keys blindly. The one with a large diamond image on one end with another smaller one on the other end with a small square secured sideways to it, all coated in Ancient Dwarvish Runes. With that key in hand you followed the memorized paces until you found a hidden entrance overlooking Lothlorien. Inhaling slowly you slid the key in the hole your finger found in its masked state, thankfully it did not click or make a single sound allowing you to enter quietly.

Through your exhale you eyed the five Ravens leaving their Brother behind in their path to join you inside to alert the others when you had opened another entrance. Across your shoulders they landed and held their silence eyeing the long deep darkened halls before you. For nearly a mile you trailed along the edges of a large corridor that ended feeding into a great hall leading to a row of scattered bridges crossing to another long stretch of halls. On your right you stopped at a crumbled statue of what used to be a great bear, on your shoulders the Raven tilted their heads curiously then flinched at your hand sinking into a small groove and pushing in a hidden door.

In that cobweb dust strewn path you followed through a labyrinth of winding turns leaving the Ravens befuddled at any sense to your desired location at all until you quietly scooped a handful of webbing from a hidden door widening their eyes as you eased it open revealing a giant hall packed with piles of weapons, armor and various jeweled and metal forged stolen treasures hoarded there. After a scan over the seemingly endless hoard and silence in the miles surrounding you due to the flecks of sunlight pouring in through random cutouts in the ceiling you exited your hiding place, sealing it behind you before venturing between the large piles. 

Unknown to the Dwarves lucked in the back of your vest were 6 swords, two straight down, long swords and four curved smaller blades to be drawn out behind your shoulders and hips, all paired with the two long swords in your tall boots. On your right hip your gifted dagger now rested, strapped on tightly, soon to be added by another for each boot at its lack of securing straps and another pair coming with a pair of small arm braces you had found for a small Elf in its early training years. Nearing the more Elven piles you eyed all the armor, still to large for you until you halted at a small chest you recognized from a sketch in your Grandfather’s Brother’s journals, chests marked to transfer mithril armor for the young noble Elves for their training.

With your key ring drawn you found the small key he would have unlocked it with to unlock the damaged chest and lock long since abandoned at no success in breaking inside and found a full neck down suit of mithril. After you closed your eyes for a moment you inhaled sharply and tucked it in your arms and made your way through the hoard collecting a bow and a pair of quivers to match it before sealing yet another hidden door behind you. Shakily you exhaled in the dark slowly stripping after setting the Ravens on a small indent you they smiled up at you after your wiping it off for them. 

Layer by layer they eyed your hidden treasures and watched you slide on the cold mithril shirt and pants you secured in place with the built in belt covering your under shorts and vest that dropped past your ankles hitting the floor covering all but the toes on your nearly worn through socks. Wetting your lips you added you pants and boots first, securing your weapons back into place before adding your long sleeve shirt you secured with your vest. Over that you added your arm braces and jacket then you shouldered your bag, bow and quivers again and shifted to allow the birds to climb on your shoulders again.

Two more days you traveled through the hidden halls, crossing openly when you had to until you got to the next doorway. With eager inhales the Ravens sat gripping your shoulders tightly as you gripped the edge of a boar’s head in a large wall of carvings depicting the great creatures once dwelling in those lands. Through the hidden opening you pulled on a metal handle, then the following three inside more hidden holes. Anxiously you eyed the halls the Ravens were watching behind you at the final creaking lock inching open before a low groan coming from the hidden door that opened to reveal a row of armed Dwarves all aiming spears and swords from between their shield wall that lowered at the sight of you.

With a relieved chuckle their Clan Lord stepped forward giving the go ahead to one of the Ravens to fly ahead to the next group traveling to the next door alerting them of your successful second step of your plan. With a tilt of your head you guided the forces inside filing them into the vast hall and rooms you had already scouted and sealed for them. As quietly as they could manage they filled the halls forming their camps before closing the door once again. At your side their leader drew out their copy of your floor plans to copy your notes of all weak spots you had found they should look out for before you slipped from their sights onto your path to the next door.

.

The next two went easily, soon filling another corner of the keep with more forces that nearly jumped up when they met in the vast halls you had chosen for them, even at your warning. But quietly they waited as you made your way to the next stop, with one Raven left you set your bag aside and walked to the base of a giant battered statue of Durin and slowly made your way to the top, catching glimpses of the Ironfists peering up at you curiously. Your pause at the base of his beard brought on a wave of fear from them until they spotted your next foot hold after quietly warning the former Dwarf Lord of your need to touch his beard. Thirty feet higher you climbed spotting another group of Dwarves in the distance, the Broadbeams pointing you out to their leader who arrived just in time to see your hand go inside a hidden cutout and collect a key you slid inside your boot before climbing down again watching their relieved exhales before slipping back into the shadows again.

Once on the ground you grabbed your belongings and followed the path across a narrow bridge towards the final door. Through the creeping moonlight Thorin’s voice called out in a sharp whisper, “Adad!”

Turning his head Thror followed his Grandson’s gaze towards the etching of a hidden door growing before them they all lined up before as it creaked open just barely enough to allow the Raven through. Sharply the Raven called out, “The halls are clear!” Through the doors they heard an exhausted gasping breath signaling Frerin, Thorin and Dwalin to race forward to give the door a firm push aiding you in its opening. When it was open you stood inhaling slowly as you straightened again flashing a weak chuckle at the Brothers curling you in a tight hug their Cousin joined in on between soft praise and thanks to Mahal you were safe. Turning your head at the approach of heavy boots you bowed your head to Thror who tugged you into a tight hug of his own mumbling into your shoulder, “Mahal’s Beard! You’re safe!” When he drew back he eyed you up and down before folding back the collar of your shirt where he smiled at your hidden layer before he cupped your cheek with a teary gaze, “Perfect choice. Nice and quiet.”

You nodded as he lowered his hand and signaled for his men to ready before your head turned to find an Elven banner flashing through the trees. Turning his head Thror narrowed his eyes focusing on the emblem on the banner and mumbled something under his breath as Thorin inched closer asking, “Grandfather?”

Tilting your head you spotted a small blue jay flying towards you then landed on your hand when you raised it, in soft Quenya it stated, “My Lord informed me to say a small troop of healers will be waiting in the edge of the woods and another troop of Elves have volunteered to aid in slaying those exiting the front gate.”

You nodded your head replying, “Please thank your Lord, we are most grateful for his kin’s aid.”

He nodded his head smiling at you softly, “Of course Little Elleth.” Rapidly he turned and fluttered off again leaving the stunned Dwarves to stare at you.

Wetting your lips you looked to Thrain who asked, “Do they mean us harm?”

You shook your head, “No.” You shifted your eyes to Thror, “Before, when we split, I stopped on the edges of Lothlorien,” he nodded his head trying to imagined what bargain they must have forced you into, “I warned their Lord of our kin passing their borders. No bargains were struck, no trades or promises past two forces honoring each other’s borders.”

A smile inched on Thror’s face as he chuckled softly, “Rightly so my Dear. No doubt if we are to be neighbors after this it would do to have some means of trust between us.” After a glance at his relaxing men he looked to you again asking, “Their troops just there?”

“Lord Celeborn has sent a troop of healers, and another group of Elves have volunteered to join us at the front gate.”

To which Thorin and Frerin chuckled mumbling, “Nain will love that.”

Turning from them you led them inside, being the smallest group they barely filled the hall you had chosen for them before you slipped out with the young trio behind you ready to help with the front gate as your last raven sped off to warn the Dwarves at the gate of your success and your aid as the Elves joined the end of the line to set up in one of your secured halls. In hushed breaths the trio followed you through a winding set of halls and hidden pathways until you peaked out, feeling their weight adding to your back as they joined you before you exited and led them across a bare bridge and into a massive pillar filled hall which you followed to the end bringing the gate into view.

Softly under your breath you counted out the steps and tapped along the bricks above a simple etching easily mistaken as a scrape narrowing the trio’s eyes curiously while you raised your boot, reached inside to draw out a large key widening their eyes as it sunk inside a hidden keyhole and unlocked a ripple of enchanted gears and bars to reveal as half of the etchings sank into the door. Now fully revealed you guided the men on which bars to pull revealing the second keyhole your same key unlocked before you four pushed on heavily revealing the shield wall and hundreds of Elven archers notching their bows on the other side.

At the sight of you the Elves lowered their bows as the same blonde march warden leading them bowed his head to you as the fiery haired Dwarf Lord approached you. After a hushed conversation you led them towards their halls as the Elves joined you in the path filling in a row of hidden overlooks sealed of in the Dwarves’ flight from these halls coated with near a foot of dust in its forgotten state allowing their kin a safe location to both aid and defend themselves in. back through the halls you led the Durins and spotted the flock of Ravens checking with each Dwarf Company before the long awaited question was whispered behind you, “Well, how does it start?”

Without a word you gripped your borrowed bow and collected an arrow spotting the Elves all turning their heads to watch you notch it in your right hand, draw it back at let it fly towards a metal bucket attached to a chain resting on the edge of a long since dried up well. Loudly it crashed into the edges and flipped the bucket sending it loudly to sink and crash through the well drawing flinches from all the Dwarves around you. Shield walls were formed once again as the Elves notched their bows at the first distant echo of screeches and cries before crashing boots and scurrying were heard.

…

Through arrows and focused walls of Dwarves the orcs fell along with the goblins among them. All being pushed aside to form large barricades to shield the resting Dwarves and Elves, now on the lower levels among you at the depletion of their arrows, which quivers full of them were being tossed by you from your trip to the treasure hoard drawing smirks from them as they regained their airborn advantage and hiding places. Between the forces you wove sneaking your way to where you were most useful, spreading more weapons and guiding the few injured through paths to the new healing wing. Your latest trip however brought your eyes straight to a pale orc charging for your King’s back.

In a frenzied race you reached him just moments before his mace would have crashed into his back, splayed across the floor from your shove Thror watched your body fly through the air into a pillar drawing a shout from him at the large mace crashing into your chest caving in the Elven chest piece Thorin urged you to put on when aiding with one of your scavenging trips. Around you Elves notched their bows as Thorin stabbed through Azog’s back before being knocked down by a backhanded swing from the large mace. On his feet again Thror stood between the orc and his Grandson, drawing in a breath he raised his sword knowing he could not block the next blow as yet another distant loud thumping was heard as flames grew in the distant end of the hall. 

With wide eyes Thror watched the mace fall from Azog’s hand as a sword sliced through his wrist nearly cutting it off, loudly it clattered as he let out a roar, turning their heads to find you panting and trembling as you rose to your feet and charged at him with the sword’s twin in your hand. In a rapid motion he drew your sword from his wrist and drove it just a few inches into Thror’s chest before Thorin rose to slice off his other hand while your sword crashed through his neck claiming his head as his body flopped down loudly at your less than graceful crash into his side gaining an audible crack from your foot heard by all Elves watching.

In a sharp inhale you eyed Thror when you turned being gripped in his Grandsons’ arms muttering he was fine as he held your sword in place through your directions to the healing tent. A loud roar caused your head to turn to the large balrog now entering the hall freezing the Dwarves and few orcs remaining. Narrowing your eyes through a sharp exhale you turned and sped off hearing the Durins shouting your name while they carried their injured King towards the healers.

What turns you took blurred before you until you were seen mid air after a clean leap from a balcony. Around you gasps were heard as your long stretch of chain whipped around the horn of the balrog granting you a clear swing around him, once in front of him and over his shoulder before the chain tightened and whipped you back to his front as he staggered backwards at the force of your weight jerking his head around. In a clumsy slip of his hoof he was sent onto his back drawing cheers from the Dwarves around you, but in your landing another gasp and crack was heard from you. 

Your now certainly broken foot was joined by your formerly fractured, now broken arm brought the room to a tilt as you caught yourself. The force of your landing caused your vision to blur from the radiating pain now coursing through you that sent your sword from your grip to clatter towards the ground, but a single glint of a blood red metal brought the ax Nain tossed your way into your main focus. In one last conscious action you rose, using your lingering momentum to shift the ax above your head and send it crashing down ending the life of the balrog.

Through the cheers and waves of noise your body dropped and you slid from the balrog into the waiting arms of an Elf aiming to aid you at the sound of your injuries preceding the spurt of blood now soaking up your sleeve from your broken arm. Darkness and silence crashed around you in the jostling path taking you towards the Durins’ muffled voices still calling your name, mainly Thror who’d been turned just in time to catch your victorious action yet not soon enough to miss your body slumping lifelessly to the corpse below you.

..

Victory was called for, the King had survived a sword to the chest, and yet no songs were to be heard. Silence lingered between ripples of tales of your travels through the keep from the Ravens while the Elves circled around you constantly at Thror’s clear attention to you. At Haldir’s recollection you had named yourself his servant, and yet the tears on his face and constant place at your side brought out an all together different tale. None, no Dwarf Lord or King would dare tear him from you, not at his soft pleas to Mahal to guide you through your unending sleep.

By Raven retelling barely a few hours sleep was all you could manage through your travels, and even though it seemed far worse than it was your broken foot, ribs and arm were mostly healed within the first two days at the Elves’ attention. One by one they each took their turn, including Lord Celeborn, who had arrived the night before. In a cool clear voice he spoke in the Common tongue, “I wish to speak with the Young Hobbit Haffling.” A teary gaze from an Ironfoot guard was the only response he got past a hand wave guiding him to you and the tear stained King carefully braiding back your recently washed and dried hair. Looking you over the Elf Lord crouched at your side and slowly moved his hand above your face and chest before locking eyes with King Thror to say, “Irmo is guiding her through to Yavanna’s gardens.” Thror’s lips parted, “Aule wishes to speak with her. Namo will not claim her yet. Her path has long to go yet. Do not fret, she will wake when she is released from council.”

King Thror nodded and motioned for Thorin and Frerin to take his place as he stood to greet the Elf Lord and share more about you and your travels with him while Raven flew back to every Dwarf Kingdom and keep sharing the news of the victory.

.

Nearly a week you slept until a brushing of a braid along your nose followed by chuckles came from Frerin at the scrunching of your nose. His laugh caused his Grandfather to turn and call out, “Frerin…” Once again your nose shifted before your brows furrowed stirring a deep breath from you drawing all the Durins back to your side as your eyes squinted open through a call for a meal for you as Thror sat at your side cupping your hand again with a growing smile.

As you flattened out on your back you asked, “You haven’t seen any squirrels yet, have you?”

He shook his head with a loving smile, “No my Dearest Ukrad.” You watched another tear roll down his cheek, “What are the squirrels to us?”

With a weak chuckle you rubbed your face with both hands before pulling them back to eye the metal cast secured on your left one simply as a brace until the muscles and bruising had healed fully as well. “They um.” You lowered your arms to your sore chest, “I had a dream they kept trying to hide acorns in my hair. Then these geese starting attacking Thorin.” To which he chuckled softly and helped prop you up against Thorin’s side as he sat behind you in leu of pillows yet to arrive as a cup of water was being brought for you.

Behind you the Prince chuckled as he asked, “And what was my fate?”

“You hid inside a tree, they knocked you off a cliff kept shouting about your Oaken shield.”

Your eyes sank through their chuckles to the bandage visible across Thror’s chest wrapped tightly causing him to say, “Your Elf allies healed me. Says I’ve time yet in these old bones.” Shifting closer to you he lowered the cup after your sip allowing Balin to fill it again, “You should know, the mountain is sealed again. Word has been spread to our allies, My Precious Ibine and our Daughter and Granddaughter should be along within a few days.” After the cup was lowered again he stroked your cheek, “There is so much I wished to say to you my Dear Ukrad. You’ve never once been simply a messenger to me.” 

As a tear slid down your cheek he continued, “So much I’ve wanted nothing more than to call you my Grandchild. Please know in the halls of our Fathers your table will be joined with mine.” His thumb wiped away another of your tears, “You have the heart of a King you know, to protect and love so freely for those with their backs to you, from one King to another. From me and all my kin, we owe you more than possible to transfer, my hope is that you feel at home among us and are not feeling bound by former positions to remain among us.” His smile inched wider hopefully, “When Mahal calls for me, whenever that day may be, I pray you remain among them, for all our strengths we have great need of your keen eyes Dear child.”

He wiped away another of your tears as you nodded, whispering, “Of course.”

“Because of you, my Ibine, my Queen is heading back to our Father’s halls, back to my arms again, same as a great number of our clan.” His hands circled yours, “And, please humor an old King when I say, for all your faithful service and fealty, I do look forward to delivering such a weighty message from you.” Your eyes filled with tears again as his voice trembled, “There is so much I have to share with your Grandparents and your Amad. They are so proud of you, and will be even more so, I can feel it. Our precious Ukrad. They’re all watching. We all saw you fly, bring down that flaming beast.”

In the doorway a Dwarf signaled to the King that their cheers had alerted the Elf Lord to your waking and he was on his way, turning your head you were inched up a bit higher, bringing the baggy Elven shirt and pants covering you to your attention before you spotted Gloin along the wall patching a tear in your outer vest as Oin mended your shirt. Through the doorway you watched the Elf Lord enter the room beside Haldir who both smiled softly at you on their approach to your side. In a tired sigh Thror settled into the chair he was offered as Celeborn crouched at your side locking his eyes with yours before he said, “Miss Pear. I’ve heard a great deal of you this past week. I owe you my gratitude for your aiding and protecting my archers.”

“They hopefully would have done the same for me.”

A hint of a smile twitched up onto his face, “I wish that were true for all my kin. Some of us are not that kind.”

With a weak chuckle you replied, “Now that you can blame my Mother for.” His brow rose matching the Dwarves around him, “I don’t remember much of her, but one thing echoing in my mind is her voice saying, if you are meant to be nothing else, be kind.” His brow lowered leaving his still slightly puzzled expression through your next weak chuckle, “Of course what none remember is there’s many forms of kindness. One which even kills. Doesn’t sound helpful at first, but it stuck with me. I know my letter must have stunned you to say the least. But it was all I had believed to be right at the moment.”

He nodded shallowly then eyed your face again wondering just what else you were destined to do, “A decision I agree with fully. Your numbers were quite startling, we’ve not seen an army of this size pass us peacefully, well, I don’t believe it’s happened before. After your notice my kin were, touched, to say the least at your warning and wished to aid you.”

“Thank you, for allowing that. You saved our King.”

His smile inched wider in a near adoring smile, “And you. I was wondering, if you can recall, what did you dream about?”

Through your explanation a bowl of stew was placed in Thorin’s hands on your lap allowing you use of your good hand to feed yourself through the repetition of your confusing dream to the Elf Lord before he shared his ideas for possible trade plans and aid in re-sprouting the long abandoned greenhouse.

…

Slowly you were up on your feet again guiding the Dwarves back through knowing their former home, sharing what secrets you could without spreading all the supposed secret locations and treasures to all the citizens returning. Your one last request of your feathered guards was to return the key into the statue of Durin due to your inability to climb just yet, an act achieved just an hour before the Durin women had arrived. Within moments of their fawning over the King was through and they had heard what you’d done they were curled around you in tearful hugs thanking you for saving Thror and Thorin. Not long after Dwarves were returning to aid in the rebuild while you readied to travel again.

Thror in his slowly healing state decided to travel with you, leaving Frerin in his place at Thorin’s unwillingness to leave you. Word of your departure loomed over the kingdom, bringing only a joy that you would be keeping an ear out for them, but your actions so far had placed them on a good path to flourishing again. But no matter their argument you always replied the same, there was a group of orphans still entrusted to your guardianship you had to provide for in the Shire. A noble reason to return, one that kept the families closest to the children in the Blue Mountains along with the elder Prince clearly intent on one day making his Grandfather’s wish of claiming you as his kin true.

Within months Moria had found its feet again and a timid relationship with the Elves on their borders as you settled watching the remaining Dwarves in the Blue Mountains flourishing as they took over the jobs of those that had left. But as the year anniversary to the great battle had come you were seated along the wall outside the King’s bed chambers in Moria with warm trails of tears streaming down your cheeks from under your eyelids that were clamped shut at the clear sounding of the Queen’s wails. For all their efforts the Elves could not change his fate, but happily in his Queen’s arms the King passed surrounded by his kin after sharing once again that he would gladly share his tales of your life with your relatives.

Lazy footfalls opened your eyes to the tear stained now Crown Prince Thorin who dropped to his knees on your right and clenched his eyes through a flood of tears as his head landed on your lap while his arms circled your back. With parted lips your eyed the Prince nestling tighter against you, soon joined by his Brother who sprawled across his shoulder and side on your left also gripping you tightly. Gently your arms lowered to their sides as Balin and Dwalin were soon among them through your growing wave of pain at the loss causing you to fold over the brothers while their Cousins circled you tightly completing your giant weeping pile as the Queen shouted to be alone as her Daughter and Dis curled around her on the bare side of the bed.

.

By sunrise you stirred to a ripple of whispers signaling your eyes open and the Princes around you to unfold from their position as your blankets and pillows. Grunts and delirious growls came from Balin and Dwalin while the Brothers on your lap tried to curl around you tighter refusing to let go and wake up just yet. As you spotted the crown in King Nain’s hands your hand settled on Thorin’s shoulder giving him a gentle shake.

In a growl Thorin replied, “Mahal’s sake, leave me be!”

Softly you shook him again as Frerin stirred with a growl at Dwalin’s nudge as you said, “Thorin.” Your voice, like striking a match opened his still blood shot eyes causing him to tilt his head to meet your gaze. But your head nod brought a confused expression to his face through his rise to his knees beside you at Frerin repeating his name. In a stunned glance at his Uncle Thorin’s hands rose instinctually to accept the crown as the Dwarves before him bowed to him calling out, “Long Live the King!”

With furrowed brows Thorin glanced at your still partially asleep group as the doors behind you opened revealing Dis and her Mother Diaa beside Queen Niro who asked, “Where is Thrain?!”

Turning to face her Nain replied, “We found the crown on the throne and there is no trace of him. Our guards mentioned seeing him gathering a satchel of food earlier mumbling about Erebor. He has abandoned us.”

With a disbelieving tearful exhale Niro glanced at her Grandson then turned back inside whispering to herself, “Hasn’t that beast taken enough from us?”

Through a teary smile Diaa walked to Thorin’s side kissing his forehead whispering, “I am so sorry. You should have centuries yet before this weight.” He nodded his head to her allowing her back inside to get some more rest before he met Dis’ tear filled eyes, without even a nod from her he nodded, granting her a return as well.

After he turned to face his Uncle while another tear rolled down his cheek and asked in a broken tone, “I hate to ask, is there any word on a breakfast?”

King Nain nodded his head, “It’s just begun preparation. Nice and hearty, as per tradition.”

Thorin inhaled then met his eyes after a glance at his Uncle’s boots, “I think I’ll try to rest some more until then.”

Nain bowed his head, “We will alert you at breakfast and if Prince Thrain is located by our Ravens.”

Thorin bowed his head in return then shifted back on his knees and blankly sank back onto your lap gripping you tightly with the crown resting at your side before Frerin, Balin and Dwalin rested around you again while you sat up stroking the new King’s back trying to think of what this could mean for you.

.

Before you coating the thick table a meal was placed as Thorin glumly eyed the passing feast’s first course throughout the day just a few hours before Thror was to be properly eulogized and cremated, just barely an hour before Thorin’s proper coronation. A few seats down from Thorin you caught his softening heartbroken expression when he looked up at you on your approach to the meal he had welcomed you to. With a bow of your head to him he nodded in return granting you permission to sit and listened as you said, “I’ve written to Lothlorien, Rivendell and even out to Greenwood asking for any news on Prince Thrain, Your Majesty.”

Without knowing why he flatly replied, “You just can’t seem to get a day off with our kin, do you?”

Curiously his brow ticked up at your sharp exhale as you bit your lip, peering down at your lap. Within moments their eyes were on you through your bubbling laughter soon drawing them all with you in a wave of relief that swept through you all, though for just a moment. It all slipped away as you all remembered the predicaments you had all been placed in, though painful they all did have a hint of  ridiculous to it all at their constant apparent need for rescuing. For just a few minutes you laughed and cried at the mingled grief, wiping your tears through the missed dazed glances from Thorin, in awe of your bright smile the other Durins all felt a deep sting at not having drawn more form you through the years, realizing just how unhappy their nonsense could have left you through it all.

Not far from his side you stood and caught more than a few glances your way in his silent plea for just a sign that you were still there close by, a gesture shared by all the Dwarves curious to see if he had your undying loyalty as well. But as the week had ended you were joining the Royal caravan on the path back to the Blue Mountains, leaving Frerin as Lord in charge of Moria once again as Thorin returned to those still loyal to remaining among their Hobbit allies and jobs in the West.

At your side Thorin rumbled, “Thank you, for supporting me.”

You glanced up at him with a curious smile, “If not me who else is to make sure geese don’t go knocking you off a cliff Your Majesty?” Drawing a weak chuckle from him.

“True. Not many are up for that task.”

“Besides, you could get lost in your closet with both hands and a map.” Making him laugh again.

… Thirty Years Later …

In a near mocking tone of yourself you mumbled, “I’ll take the East…” After a glance through the raging storm around you your hand settled on the rock wall on your right as you were swung around on the knee of a Stone Giant, normally any Dwarf would be thrilled to be privy to the sight of a Thunder Battle but being as this seemed to be your predicament each time you crossed these lands you scowled through the expected crash before you hopped free of your perch onto a nearby ledge and walked into the first cave you saw. 

Curiously you eyed it uncertain of ever being in this one before as you mumbled, “Next time,” you sighed and turned to examine the other side of the cave, “Who am I kidding. Thorin would plummet to his-.” A sharp gasp left you as the ground fell out from under you, knocking and slamming down the path you managed to catch onto a boulder along the wall, most assuredly breaking a rib at the familiar throbbing pain. In a pained grunt you swung onto the small ledge and followed the small tunnel wherever it winded until you had fallen once again into a pile of smooth stones on the edge of a lake.

With a groan you rose to your knees and shook your head as the creature growling and panting between mutters of “Precious” circled you. The shifting of a stone behind you brought your sword out in a quick spinning swing claiming his head. A single glint of gold in the mud beside his headless body stirred a memory from that same muddled dream in Moria, carefully you tucked it away and let your feet carry you to wherever the echoing trees guided you. With a sigh you followed the path and mumbled to yourself, “First Thrain seen sprinting through the edge of Laketown Lake, now off to destroy a cursed trinket…” Your mind switched back to Gandalf’s letter you had received requesting you meet him in Bree in a few weeks time. “Fingers crossed he pulls one of his ‘Wizard’s never late’ bits. Shouldn’t take too long.”

.

Along the edge of the Grey Mountains you traveled, passing through a few hidden paths in Moria, stopping for a refill on supplies before slipping out again on the edge of Rohan’s borders. Under the cover of night you traveled, crossing their borders and continuing towards Gondor’s. Luckily enough you were able to slip past their guards unnoticed following along the mountain path where you followed a clear path up the side of the mountain, through a curiously winding path until reaching an archway lined with skulls. 

Narrowing your eyes you entered and peered around following the obvious paths until a floating green body crossed your path. Glancing around your eyes flinched wider through their mournful song, as the body passed you to join the other thousands in their glowing green ghostly city managed to slip past them and followed the path out for nearly a full week before you came across a small crack in the far tip of the mountain ridge. Biting your lip you squirmed free unaware of the green army tracking your steps curious about their nearly unnoticed visitor.

Cautiously you eyed the peaks surrounding Gondor and snuck around its Southern edge through the shadows until you found the end of the slowly lowering ridge you climbed down until you were in between the peaks housing Gondor and Minas Morgul in the growing night. With eyes narrowed you eyed the plume of smoke signaling Mt Doom’s location but your eyes shifted farther south spotting a spreading plume drawing you after it. Following the smoke you finally came across the burning remnants of a village still filled with flowing lava, with a shrug you collected the ring from your boot and reached down to the tattered hem of your shirt and collected a rock from the dirt at your feet. 

Snuggly you tied them together and chuckled it as hard as you could then watched it sink into the lava before a giant pulse shot out from Mordor. In a turning staggering fall you landed on your backside with a stunned gasp as a row of green soldiers stepped between you and the mountain blocking all debris from crashing into you while another turned and lifted you up in his arms when the earth cracked out from under you.

Frozen in shock you remained still in the hopes that he would not drop you. So quietly they turned and marched back towards the mountain ridge you had just exited and carried you back up the side of it around the edge of it to the crack you had exited. Carefully you were set down again and guided back through the crack and winding tunnels as their King, the one who had carried you spoke in a raspy echoing voice. “You are the first in centuries to pass our borders. We dead do not suffer the living to pass. What creature set you on our path little Elleth?”

You glanced up at him curiously, “No one.” If he still had a brow to raise it would have risen at your curious answer. “I found the ring and I followed the path my feet led me on.”

“Your feet?”

You nodded, “I’ve always had a knack for finding the simplest paths. I apologize for crossing your borders unannounced, but I was unaware of any creatures dwelling here.” He glanced at you again, “This is the first time I’ve passed farther than Rohan’s edges.”

“Understandable.” He eyed you again, “You should sleep. We will keep watch tonight and guide you back to Rohan’s borders in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

Back at their kingdom you spied a small cot they had set up for you along the wall of the small ridge with a small bundle of food you weren’t certain of where they had taken it from, but the grumble in your stomach begged you not to care as you sat on the cot, across from the cross legged King and his Men asking more about your life and lands where you hailed from. After your meal they returned to their city and began their singing again allowing you rest through the night until a distant bird sounded at the sunrise. 

The bird’s song drew a twitch form your ear nearly bringing an adoring smirk to the King’s face on his path to wake you. His ghostly feet halted at the edge of your cot through your rise and pop releasing stretches while a pair of his Men lifted your belongings and passed them to you along with a wrapped bundle of bread and food to eat along the way.

At the edge of their borders they halted and drew your gaze to them as they smiled at you as softly as their ghostly forms could allow as their King said, “Miss Pear we will be keeping an ear out for you. Should you ever need us, we will be there.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” After a trading of bowed heads you turned to follow your path up towards the edge of the Grey Mountains. On the very edge of the first peak your head turned at the rustling of a figure racing through the forest in the distance, a flashing glimpse of a familiar tattooed forehead sent you racing after him. Within minutes you managed to cut him off and gripped him by the ear as he shouted, “Leave me be! I’ve a Mountain to recover!”

Rolling your eyes you gripped his chin forcing him to lock eyes with you gaining a gasp from him as he recognized you, “Prince Thrain! You are coming with me to Moria!”

“But-.”

Your eyes narrowed through a fiery gaze, “But nothing! There is a bounty on the entire Durin line,” His lips parted to speak only to clamp shut at your finger raising, “Thirty years We’ve been tracking your whereabouts, Thirty years you’ve missed from your Children and Grandchildren’s lives! You are going back to Moria if I have to drag you by your beard.”

“But, Erebor…”

“We will discus Erebor in Moria.”

His eyes scanned over your face with a soft gasp realizing you had intentions to march towards it anyway gained an agreeing nod from him to join you on the path towards Moria again. Stealing glances at the Elves through the edges of Lothlorien noting your presence and exit from their borders before racing to pass word onto the Elf Lord trying to uncover the source of the diminishing darkness he and his kin felt creeping towards their borders. By nightfall a key from your hidden stash was brought out to guide the Prince through one of the back halls towards the main hall ending in the throne room. Each hall filling with stunned gasps towards the dirt coated and withered Prince admiring the changes in the great kingdom until his eyes fell on his stunned son Fenrir.

In a glance from his Father to you the reigning Lord of Moria let out a relieved chuckle as he approached you saying, “Miss Pear. You are truly a wonder. Thank you, for finding Adad.”

Your head bowed and you watched them embrace before you were led to a meal for the three of you before you rose to your feet as Frerin was to lead Thrain to be scrubbed and put safely into bed. In the absence of your presence behind them Frerin turned to catch your eyes and said, “You’re leaving?”

You nodded, “Gandalf requested my meeting him in Bree. I’ve only a week to get there.”

Fenrir smiled at you and approached to curl you into a loose hug, “Thank you again. I’ll keep him safe.”

You smiled up at him, “Don’t be afraid to chain him or put a bell on him if need be.”

Thrain caught your eye to say, “Send word when you’re ready to march on the mountain. I wish to be with you when that dragon falls.”

Without missing a beat you replied flatly, “I’ve been searching the East for three decades now. If I hear you’ve left this keep before Smaug falls without King Thorin’s blessing I will cut you down myself. The next time I hunt you, you will fall, remember that Prince Thrain.”

Your eyes shifted to Frerin and his soft smile, “Pass by the kitchens, they will refill your supplies. Safe travels Miss Pear.” With a bow of your head you followed his order on your path through the kingdom, thankfully avoiding the Stone Giants for this pass on your path straight for Rivendell’s borders. 

.

Under the cover of a great tree you eased down onto your back using your pack as a pillow, closing your eyes and slipping into a deep sleep unaware of the Elves patrolling their borders all eying the softly glowing under the bright moonlight. All night they kept watch over you until you woke at daybreak to a strand of gold hair sweeping across your nose, that gentle brush shot your eyes wide open sending the reborn Elf Lord formerly peering over you to fall backwards onto the grass behind him. In a pained roll you rested on your stomach propping up on your elbows eyeing him carefully to ask in Quenya, “Have I passed too closely to Rivendell’s borders?”

Inhaling slowly he straightened, curling his legs in front of him, “No Little Elleth. Are you traveling alone? We found no trace of a traveling party nearby.”

With a soft chuckle you rose to your knees allowing him a glimpse of your clearly matured figure as you removed and shook the dew off of your jacket, “I almost always travel alone.”

He eyed you again, “You look hungry. Lord Elrond is expecting you. A meal has been prepared as well.”

Your lips parted, “Have I done something wrong?”                              

He shook his head, “Of course not. All travelers are welcome in his lands.” As he inhaled he rose and offered you his hand before helping you collect your bags, bow and quiver then guided you through a winding band of shifting trees until the Elven city was growing around you.

.

With a soft smile Lord Elrond’s eyes locked with yours and tilted his head slightly remembering word from his Father in law of the Haffling that had formed trade between his lands and the reformed kingdom of Moria. “Miss Pear.” His bowed for a moment as the Elves listening in withheld their gasps at the familiar name, “Welcome to Rivendell. We’ve a meal prepared for you.” His hand motioned to the side and he guided you straight to the open dining room where he sat across from you as the blonde claimed the seat between you unwilling to miss out on hearing your tales. Beside your seat you set your belongings and smiled softly at the Elleth serving you wine and your meal then turned your eyes back to Elrond as he asked, “You are traveling alone?”

You nodded, “Yes, I almost always travel alone, My Lord.”

His expression softened and he looked over your face, “I’ve heard a great deal about you. My Father in law speaks very highly of you, Miss Pear.”

“You Father-.”

“Lord Celeborn.”

You nodded, “Yes, he’s been very kind to me, and the Dwarves reforming Moria.”

“You are traveling back to the Blue Mountains then?”

You nodded, “Gandalf requested I meet him in Bree, but I got, detained, so I shall be late. But I can always catch him in the Shire after.”

“When are you expected there?”

After a slow exhale you used to mentally recount your calendar, “Two days.”

With a soft chuckle Elrond replied, “Then, Miss Pear, we shall simply have to lend you a horse to quicken your pace then.”

“Thank you.”

His smile grew, “Of course.” Somewhere trough your second course his eyes locked on your again granting him yet another flashing memory of his latest set of dreams about a green army clutching what seemed to be a child on the path from the crumbling kingdom of Mordor. That child filled his sketches but as he watched the soft breeze blow your loose curls over your face he and Glorfindel on his right recognized you from the image right away.

With a pack of lembas added to your pack you were shown to the stables where a pale grey horse was passed into your care, “Whenever you find yourself traveling towards Moria again feel free to take rest here.” Carefully you were helped onto his saddle and he continued, “Teo will get you to Bree safely and swiftly. Safe travels Miss Pear.”

Again you thanked him and bowed your head to him, gripping the reigns and allowed Teo to lead you to the Elven borders before you showed him the quickest path straight for the distant town. Once you’d left Elrond’s lands he had passed on word to Lothlorien of his suspicion marking you as the mysterious ring bearer they had been searching for, marking down especially your lack of mentioning it at all.

…

Safe in the center of the Shire in the home filling the largest Smial under the roots of a large tree thirteen Dwarves anxiously sat around a table while an uneasy Wizard looked between them and his chosen Burglar, trying to explain the reasoning for the quest to the skittish creature growing more uncomfortable by the minute at the near painful silence. A single loud snort outside following the halting of hoof beats brought the Dwarf King to his feet on a path to open the door he managed to reach just as it knocked with all the others grouped behind him releasing a collective breath when a familiar set of eyes glowed in the lamplight coating their chosen Key Master and Dragon Slayer.

Pt 5

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

[syrahnbloodfeather]

A Little More Time

Tyrasam took the news of Alucieus’ death a lot harder than she expected. Losing the only man her late husband could call a friend placed a heavy burden on her shoulders, especially considering he too died as an indirect result of fel corruption. She didn't know the details of the High Justicar’s demise but she didn't need to; the burns on her daughter's hands told her all she needed to know.

To think Whitstan would kill both Zerethel and Alucieus was a nightmare that kept her awake for more nights than she cared to remember. It was a reality she fought against in the snowy woods of the Western Plaguelands and beyond. The moment happened at last, forever burned into her history, yet she still didn't know how to feel about it. With Jaeras now under strict supervision at the Amber Castle, Tyrasam was free to visit Syrahn at her leisure.

She knew what she would see when she arrived at the gates of the Amber Castle, but she still wasn't ready. Rows of coffins lined the left side of the courtyard, draped in black cloth with their names engraved in gold. Countless guards and families alike surrounded them, many leaning over the coffins and sobbing; a bit no older than six stood beside his weeping mother, saluting what had to be the remains of his father. It wasn't something Tyrasam could stomach looking at for long. Worse still, an angry crowd was growing outside of the gates. They were demanding answers Syrahn likely didn't have. Fortunately the guards keeping them from getting any closer to the castle recognized her and let her pass without incident, otherwise she would be sent straight back home.

Tyrasam found Syrahn’s family in the gilded halls beneath the Seat of the Exalted; while the adults did their best to keep their spirits high despite the trouble gathering outside, the children were blissfully ignorant of the situation, and at best, curious from the tension in the air around them. The guards didn’t pay the Paladin any mind, so neither did any of Syrahn’s relatives, allowing her to slip past them seemingly unnoticed to ascend yet another staircase that led to Syrahn’s private chambers.

Her office was a mess. The large wooden desk she sat behind was overflowing with letters and blank sheets of parchment, with several inkwells cluttered near her functioning hand. It wasn’t until Tyrasam cleared her throat did Syrahn even notice her presence. “Oh…! Good morning, Sammy. Sorry for the mess… I didn’t expect you to get here so soon.”

Tyrasam gave Syrahn a comforting smile before meandering toward the alcohol cabinet. “No need to apologize, Syrie. So…” she started while pouring herself a drink, “Keeping yourself busy with writing these days, hm?”

“They’re letters to the families of the guards who died from Alucieus’ onslaught.” The Priestess lowered her head after saying his name; soon that name would belong only to a distant memory, like Ashelin, Areus, and Ehalu. “I don’t think it’s going to help ease their pain one bit, but, it won’t make things worse. Did you see the coffins outside?”

Tyrasam walked around the table with a bottle in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. “I did… along with the crowd.” She couldn’t find a chair that wasn’t covered in paper, so she decided to lean against the wall instead. “They seem angrier at you than the man that took their sons and husbands away…”

“They want answers for the attack. Answers I can’t give them.” Syrahn almost seemed apathetic to their plight, but perhaps she was just emotionally drained from this whole ordeal. The woman finally put her quill away to lean back in her chair. “The commonfolk are convinced it was an assault by the Alliance, and they want blood. The great houses blame House Sun’rael for Alucieus succumbing to the fel corruption, and the meeting yesterday decided Lady Covaya would compensate us for the destruction of our property.”

“How much would that cost?”

“Just over six million.” Tyrasam almost choked on her wine and threatened to spit it across the room, but she proved to be exceptionally talented with holding her liquor.

“Six million?!” She coughed out, wiping wine off her bottom lip. “That’s insane! All he destroyed was a garden, a gate and some statues!”

“That statue was in honor of Lord Kael’kro Sunlust and his lingering legacy.” Syrahn furrowed her brow while she stared off into space. “It was created by Benjamin Kess, a legendary mason that traveled all the way from Stromgarde to cut the statue - by hand - out of the largest boulder in Quel’thalas. Kings would have to wait decades just to get their hands on his craftsmanship… until the Third War happened.” Syrahn closed her eyes and slowly reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose; a surefire sign of her frustration. “I have no desire to make Covie pay for my mistake, especially with her house on hard times now that the war against the Legion is nearing its end. But you must understand… I can’t keep giving my friends favors while ignoring the people I’m charged to protect. My authority isn’t as strong as it needs to be, and it’s only getting weaker by the day. I have to prove to these people that I’m capable of keeping them safe. I can’t tread on their traditions in one moment, then demand their respect and allegiance in another. It’s just…” Syrahn rubbed her temple with her thumb. “Lately I’ve been trying to do what I believe is right, and it’s been causing me nothing but trouble. I don’t know why I keep bothering.”

“It's not just you.” Tyrasam assured her. “I was the one who first attacked Whitstan at the gates of Silvermoon City…” She paused as she rubbed the center of her chest. “Almost died that day… if Whitstan didn't restrain himself, I certainly would've. I guess what I'm trying to say is… never regret doing what's right. If I saw Whitstan but minded my own business my husband would still be alive, Zaldrannar would still be afloat, which means Alucieus would still be alive… everything bad that's happened to us after stopping Hellscream in Draenor could be traced back to my impulse to kill Whitstan.”

Syrahn was quick to retort with, “That's not true. Whitstan was only in Silvermoon because I brought him back from the brink of death after Areus left him to fade away near Scholomance. If I had left him alone, none of this would have happened.”

“You did the right thing.” She softly yet firmly said, placing a hand on Syrahn’s shoulder. “You were the only one to see good in him. You alone. You suffered for it too… I… heard rumors of what Ashelin did to you in the Exchange…” Syrahn slowly inhaled, but said nothing. “You were right to spare him. You were right to defend his right to live. You were right to unlock his memories. You were right to try and save Alucieus. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have the strength and tact to do the same. Jaeras wouldn't even know her real father, the Amber Glade would probably be in ruin with my husband in charge…” Tyrasam did her best to make light of the situation, but she wasn't sure how successful her attempts were. “You're a strong woman. You'll persevere… you always have.”

Syrahn slowly turned in her chair and took Tyrasam’s hand before tears started rolling down her reddened cheeks. “Th-thank you Sam. I… I really needed to hear that from someone…” Tyrasam knelt beside her chair and pulled her in for a hug, but she was careful to avoid her bandaged arm. They stayed frozen in each other’s arms for quite some time, and Tyrasam refused to let her go until she stopped sobbing. It wasn’t until she could no longer ignore the ache in her legs from kneeling for so long did Syrahn finally settle down.

“Are you going to be okay?” Tyrasam asked affectionately. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N-no…” Syrahn sniffled, wiping her face dry of tears with the palm of her hand. “But there’s… more news. It’s about Whitstan…”

A coldness gripped the Paladin’s stomach. “Oh Gods, did he...?”

“No! Nothing like that…” Her voice trailed off again before she inhaled sharply. “The undead can’t breed, needless to say. Kaevia and Whitstan have grown very close, and well…”

“He wants Jaeras.” Tyrasam stood up to her full height and looked down at the Priestess with a peculiar ring in her tone of voice. “Kaevia and Whitstan want to raise Jaeras since she’s technically his. Right?” Syrahn pursed her lips while she nodded. “I knew this would eventually happen. When he confronted me on the roads in Eversong Woods, I saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. I just thought… I’d have more time.”

“Lady Covaya has offered you a position within the Sun’rael estate.” Syrahn was quick to add, unsure if Tyrasam needed comforting words or not. “... so you can remain close… and watch her grow into a fine young woman.”

“I can’t do that.” Tyrasam bluntly admitted. Before Syrahn could respond, she continued with, “I have a business I’m running. All of my greatest customers are within walking distance from my home… and I… I’d just get in the way. No sense in having three parents, right? I belong here.”

The Priestess slowly rose from her chair to meet Tyrasam eye to eye. “You know you can say no.”

“No, I can’t.” She suddenly sounded exhausted. “At the end of the day, he is her father. Her true father. And he’s done a better job in the few times he’s visited than Zereth ever did, that’s for sure…” Now it was Syrahn’s turn to embrace Tyrasam. “I just… I j-just…! I wish I had more time…!”

Tyrasam’s composure shattered once Syrahn pulled her in for a hug. “You can visit her whenever you like. You can still be there for her when she needs you. You know this… S-Sammy…!” She felt her own eyes begin to flare up and sting again as the tears returned. They fed off each other's grief, when one trembled and sobbed, the other did it louder and heavier, and up and up they went. Syrahn and Tyrasam became so loud that they didn't even hear the door across the room open.

Miriam creaked the door open and poked her head inside before saying, “Syrahn are you almost done with the-...” She stopped in the middle of her question the moment she realized her sister and one of her friends were weeping uncontrollably in each other's arms; Miriam didn't know what they were crying over, but she wasn't about to stick around and find out. “I'll… come back later.”

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