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neochan · 3 years

Text

GENRE | smut, idolverse!

WARNINGS | smut

WC | 2.6k +

A.N | this is a repost of my older work. i hope you enjoy it <3

You could still hear the unintelligible screaming of thousands of fans as the boys filtered off the stage and into the greenroom. Another successful concert in the long string of tour stops. You couldn’t even remember what state you were in because the days of traveling, unpacking, setting up, and doing it all again the next day ran together.

The boys were dripping sweat, immediately grabbing bottles of water and towels to wipe themselves off. They had worked harder than normal today since during one of the sets the microphone cut out and they had to perform acapella. Someone was getting fired for that.

Taeyong flopped onto the leather couch dominating the center of the room, water in one hand, phone in the other. “People are already uploading photos.” He outstretches his arm so the others could view the pictures pulled up on his screen.

“Johnny you look ridiculous,” you point out, laughing as a fan had caught Johnny in the act of wildly waving his light stick.

“I was having a good time, okay?” He chuckles and walks into the dressing rooms to change out of his stage outfit. Half of the group filtered out to change and half stayed to peruse through the gifts left by venue staff and play on their phones until told otherwise.

You were wondering where Hyuck was when you heard his voice from the hallway. He saunters in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Enjoy the show?” His golden skin was tainted pink, hair matted to his forehead by the sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He grabbed his shirt and lifted it to swipe at his face, revealing his cute tummy. You had to resist the urge to poke it.

“I enjoyed hearing thousands of pretty fans scream your name” You give him a smirk knowing that he hates when you downplay your relationship.

He nudges you with his shoulder, “You know I meant the songs,” his doe eyes look into yours, his long lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinked “Besides, you know I love you and only you.”

Mark began to nervously giggle in the corner while Doyoung made fake gagging noises from the vanity he sat at. “Oh, shut up.” You say, throwing empty water bottles at the two, “And hurry up I wanna go swimming before it gets too late.”

The ride home was peaceful once the swarms of fans cleared a path for the bus. Per the managers request you slouched down in your seat so know one could see you through the window. It didn’t make much sense because the windows were tinted, but Haechan had to argue for his life to allow them to let you tag along on the tour, so you didn’t question them. Once you were on the road, you sat back up and snuggled close to Haechans side. He rested his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking you with his thumb. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, listening to music. It was so loud you could almost make out the words but you didn’t say anything – you let him stay in his post concert utopia for the whole trip.

The hotel was about an hour away from the venue so that no one would find them, and they’d be closer to their next destination. It was nicer than the others because it actually had a pool. You and Haechan made an agreement to go swimming after the concert, and you couldn’t wait. The staff also rented more rooms, so instead of four people to a bed, it was just you and Haechan.

After checking in everyone filtered off to their rooms leaving the both of you to freely do whatever you wanted - within reason of course. You both got changed, your gaze admiring the hard lines of Haechans back. “Don’t stare.” He blushed, wrapping a towel around his upper body.

You pulled on your bikini which made Haechan go silent. You specifically picked this one because it brought out your skin tone well, and cupped your features beautifully. “Now who’s staring?”

It never failed. The butterfly feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when Haechan watched you with loving eyes. You wrapped a towel around your waist, allowing Haechans eyes to roam the tops of your breasts, peeking out from the almost too small bathing suit.

His cheeks turned pink once he noticed he was caught, “Let’s go”.

The hallways were quiet since it was almost midnight, so you wordlessly made your way down the stairs and out into the night air. It had grown considerably cooler than when guys first arrived that morning, but the sky made up for it. Pretty stars pricked the vast expanse of dark blue and black infinity. You could see the moon peaking out from behind a single cloud, casting a shadowed glow on Haechans honey skin.

The gate was closed when you walked up to it so you stopped to read, “Aw man, the pool closed an hour ago,” You set your lips in a pout, “no wonder the lights weren’t on.”

“Hey it’s okay, no lights, no cameras, they probably wont even notice we’re here if we keep quiet.” He moves closer to you, eyebrows raised expectant for an answer.

You hesitated wondering if you really could pull it off, after all you’d been looking forward to this for the whole day, “I don’t wanna get in trouble..”

“You said you wanted to swim and I’m going to make sure that happens,” He gets down on one knee, “step on my leg, I'm gonna help you jump the fence.”

He boots you over, and grabs your arms to help lower you on the other side, but his hand slips and his nails dig into your shoulder. “Ow, fuck.” You wince rubbing the spot he scratched.

“Sorry, sorry” He says giggling, jumping the fence with such quietness and ease that it looked unreal. “Come on, dare you to do a canon ball!?”

He ran ahead throwing his towel on one of the pool chairs and jumping in the water. You cringe away from the loud slap his body hitting the water made. You walk slowly to the chair, deeply inhaling the addictive chlorine scent.

He finally stands up waist deep in the water and pushes his hair back. The blue water reflected against him, making his skin sparkle. “Come into the water y/n” he splashed some water into your general direction, but not enough to touch you.

“Okay, Okay.” You drop the towel and slip into the water. It was cold. Really cold. You gasp and recoil away, but not fast enough, because Haechan has wrapped his arms around you and started carrying you towards the deep end. You struggle a bit in his grip but his arms provide an iron cage that you can’t get out of. “Haechan let me go!”

He presses a warm kiss to the back on your neck but doesn’t comply with your wishes, instead making a curve and bringing you towards the underwater benches. He fixes his hold on you so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. You stare up at him, water droplets falling off his chin. His eyes were already red from the chlorine and you hoped that it cleared up by tomorrow nights concert. His plush lips sat in a pout, strong jaw set. He was so very pretty; and all yours. You smiled to yourself, deciding to keep that image locked away in your memory forever.

Once he gets to the benches he sets you down and glides in beside you. “You know It’s colder than I thought it was going to be.” He lifts a hand and sheepishly rubs the back of heck, “and you look way hotter in that bikini than I thought you would.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a dig or a compliment.” You scoot closer to him so that your thighs were pressed against each other. Finding his hand underwater, you intertwine your fingers with his own.

“A compliment babe.” He chuckles and slouches in the water so that only his head sat above it. You both sit there for a moment until it becomes too cold to sit still.

“Well I’m going to put it to use and go swim.” You push off from the cement and paddle around. The only way to stay slightly warm was to keep moving. Haechan watched you, eyes crinkled in a smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It was fun to watch you play in the water but the bathing suit was making him think of other things you two could be doing.

And that was how it stayed. Haechan watching while you performed for him.

A while had passed, the calm exterior of the pool getting to you, making you drowsy. The cold blue water washed over your hands while you gently skimmed the surface, making your way over to where Haechan was. You hummed a short tune under your breath, trying to keep yourself distracted. it was close to one in the morning now, but Haechan still sat on the bench, slightly shivering from the brisk air, hands gripping his thighs under the water while his mind wandered far away from the present.

“Watcha thinkin’ about” you ask, moving closer to him, hoping to catch some lingering body warmth.

“Fucking you ,” he moved off the seat and dove under the surface, only leaving small ripples in his wake. You stand there for a second wonder how he could be so blunt, so forward in his desires; he was never like this.

He swam a single circle around your body before popping up in front of you, giving you a mini heart attack. He pushes you back against the tiled walls, “I’ve spent the last hour thinking about fucking you. Thinking about how pretty you’d sound.” His head dips down to kiss along your collarbone, and your hands grab the back of neck, holding him there while his tongue sucked bruises into your tender skin. His hands grazed the bare skin of your arms, giving you goosebumps.

He moaned into the side of your neck, biting and sucking away, wanting you to yearn for him like he did for you. He lifted his head so that his mouth hung over yours, his small puffs of breath fanning over your face while he tests the waters. “Can I kiss you?”

Without giving him an answer you pull him closer by the roots of his hair. His kissing was messy and sweet, and while your tongues moved together, his hips began rubbing circles against you, trying to gain some friction in the cool water. Small heavy breaths were the only sound you could hear, aside from the occasional splash as Haechan moved restlessly.

Your hand wandered down his chest and below the surface to where you could feel him straining against his shorts. You began to stroke him over the fabric, his hips pushing against your touch. He broke the kiss to watch as you peeled down the elastic from his hips, his cock freed from the restricting material of his swim shorts. You watched him twitch slightly as the cold water met his length.

“You can’t make any noise.” You place a single finger against his lips.

“No promises.” He whispers, a devilish smirk breaking way on his face. His hands caress you thighs, pushing your bottoms to the side. The cold water hit you, making you gasp and push into Haechan who just whimpers against your touch.

He tried to stay quiet, only soft grunts between gritted teeth and muffled moans as his hips pushed into your own. The water created resistance but it just enhanced how good he was feeling. He hurriedly grabs at your legs, pulling them up so that they sat around his waist. Your back dragged up the tiled walls, scraping your tender skin, but you could only focus on Haechans cock thrusting deeply in and out of you. He stared longingly into your eyes, filling you up completely, wanting to savor the way they fluttered in the back of your head.

“You love the way I fill you up huh?” He groans into your ear, a hand falling forward to grip the cement ledge of the pool.

You couldn’t respond without fear of moaning so you nod your head wildly. He began to bite and suck at your collarbone, pushing you closer to the edge. Looking down he sees your nipples, erect, poking through the wet fabric of your bathing suit. His eyes grow wide, hips stuttering into you. Fuck you were hot.

“Haechannie, I think I’m going to come.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Not yet.” He growls, hands moving to pin your wrists against the cement ledge, “Hold it princess, I know you can.” The water began to slosh around faster as Haechan thrusted harder into you. The sound was so loud its no wonder you didn’t hear the keys jangling against the hip of the guard making his way towards you two.

“Hey!,” he shouts running towards you, “The pool is closed! Get out! Are you two-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you and Haechan spring up out of fear and take off. It was easy to push yourself up onto the pool deck. The guard made the mistake of following you two and leaving the gate unattended. You and Haechan ran out, giggling, making your way back into the hotel. You didn’t stop until you got into the room and slammed the door behind you.

With your heart hammering in your chest you lean against the dark cherry wood . “Holy fuck we could’ve gotten in serious trouble.” You gasp out, clutching a hand against your wet bathing suit top.

“Babe we’ll be gone by morning, no one is gonna know.” Haechan paces in front of you trying to catch his breath. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, it was miracle he got them up in time.

“We’re so banned from this hotel.” A knock on the door makes you jump away from it, the worst of punishment's filling your mind. What were they going to do? They couldn’t arrest you, could they?

Haechan walks forward and turns the knob slowly, revealing a sleepy Doyoung. His oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder showing off his gaunt collarbone. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What do you want Doie?” you ask softly.

“How was getting chased by the guard?” he gives a sleepy chuckle, still half in his dreams.

“How did you-,” A look of realization hits Haechan, “You reported us?” He whined, pushing Doyoungs bare shoulder so that he stumbled back.

“Sound travels over water dumbasses and you guys were loud, I was trying to sleep!” Protesting, he pushes Haechans wet shoulder back.

“Well, now we’re going to be twice as loud.” Haechan slams the door in Doyoungs face and grabs you, throwing you on the bed. You give a squeal, and hear Doyoungs fist hit the door.

“I swear I’ll make a noise complaint.” He sounded more irritated than sleepy now.

“Go ahead, you’re just mad I’m getting laid and you aren't.” You playfully slap Haechans arm, but he nips at your hand. The other side of the door grows silent, Doyoung either going to report you two, or going back to his room defeated.

“Shall we pick up where we left off princess?”

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct drabble #nct fic #nct scenario #hyuck smut #doyoung

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buck-nialled · 3 years

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3:1 - B. Barnes Imagine

NOTE: this is my first time writing for bucky or sebastian stan in general so feedback is appreciated! please let me know if you like this and if you'd like to see more. THIS DOES CONTAIN SMUTTY UNDERTONES TOWARDS THE END, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: I just added sebastian stan/characters to my taglist form so if you already filled it out before just message me and I'll add you to this one.

three times bucky was clueless with technology and the one time he used it right

Despite spending most of his less-than-average life inside of a giant freezer and aging up to triple digits—if we’re speaking technically, your boyfriend still gained many physical benefits compared to most men his age. For one thing, he is still alive and breathing—a huge accomplishment, if anything, maybe even a record. The physical appearance and athletic ability he still maintained were not a downside either. As far as anybody is concerned, James Buchanan Barnes appears like any other millennial/super-soldier/metal arm-bearing person.

With exception to the fact that the man himself can’t even call you on your phone without needing assistance. That sentence is way less sad when taking into account that he was not alive for the upbringing of touch screens and AI’s, which happened to be waiting everywhere around the complex to aid him and his various, enigmatic asks, such as:

“My phone died. How do I revive it?”

“What did I win a free iPad for?”

“Friday, what does the word ‘bih’ mean?”

Once speaking the last one, he is left unanswered, and Friday is alerting you in the living area moments later.

“Y/N, Mr. Barnes is needing your assistance with a text you sent. He would like a definition of the word ‘bih’ but I cannot find it in my dictionary.” The AI asking for your help in babysitting Bucky on his phone earns a snort from you.

“Thanks, Friday. I’ll go help him.” You heave yourself up from the couch cushion and march towards his bedroom--technically, it is both of yours now. After reaching the entrance, a smile crawls onto your lips at the sight before you. The hefty Miriam-Webster English dictionary splayed open on your lover’s lap as he flips through pages, reciting miscellaneous words his eyes land on in search of the one from your message.

“Big, bin, bio…” Seconds later, he is slamming the book shut and tossing it aside. A loud thud resounds across the room as you watch it land on the hardwood floor. When you glance back up to announce your presence to Bucky, you see his gaze already transfixed on you. A quiet huff comes from him, and his eyes avert from your figure in the doorway, his cheeks becoming tinged with an opaque red. It was no puzzle that the sergeant despised calling for help, even on the minuscule tasks, like how to turn the flash of his camera off or define a slang term unbeknownst to him until your message was delivered to his phone.

“A little birdy told me you needed help.” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe with a satisfied smirk. You were one of the few and trusted Bucky had learned to open up to in the time that you have come to know him. No matter the issue, or how long it took for you to wear down the stubbornness on his tongue, the plea would sound eventually.

“I just don’t know what this word means.” He grunts. “Is it a typo?”

A line of giggles fall from you at his hopelessly confused expression--eyebrows furrowed, pupils appearing lost in thought at this simple “code word” he couldn’t crack. It made you want to swaddle him in the softest blanket and cuddle him until eternity.

“That’s because it’s not a real word,” you begin through laughs. The scrunch on his face only deepens in its perplexity. “‘Bih’ is short for...it’s short for bitch.” You shrug. His mouth parts in revelation.

“So you...you think I’m a…” he turns his eyes down to the pixelated string of messages…”thick female dog?” You snicker.

“‘Thick bih’ is a compliment, Buck. It just means I like your body a lot.”

“Oh...thank you?” He casts his eyes up at you once more, quirking a brow.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anyways...now that you’re here. I emailed you a photo.” He shoots a wink in your direction. Almost as though you two had traded faces, the confused look transferred over to your wrinkled forehead and tilted head.

“Oh...okay. I’ll check it later.”

You thought nothing of it, and let his statement slip your mind. It was not until later that you decided to scan through your emails with Wanda, who mentioned something mission-related in your inbox that she demanded the two of you look at and study. As you skimmed through to find it, you deleted several junk emails and starred some important ones. When you landed on the electronic mail your boyfriend mentioned earlier and clicked on it, your breath left you at the large photo of his considerably-sized girth.

“Woah! Woah!” Wanda squeals, reaching her hand up to shield her eyes now tainted with the sight of your man’s junk. The early afternoon comes back into your mind, with you against the doorframe, Bucky throwing the dictionary and demanding a translation of your text, and the wink he threw at you.

Of course, the wink. It should have been obvious what the intentions behind his email were at that point, but then again it really shouldn’t have. Because who sends nude photos over email?

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, now wearing red cheeks. You turn to face Wanda who is already out of her seat and facing away from the computer screen, calling back to you in a desperate scurry to her room, “We’ll just talk later!”

“Bucky,” you enter the bedroom with a growl minutes later, a rather great contrast to what you were feeling earlier in the day.

“Hey, doll. Did you ever open my email?” He was seated on the edge of the bed, eyeing something on his phone. He quickly pockets it, allowing you his undivided attention.

“Yeah, and Wanda had something to say about it too.” The comment came out through gritted teeth, but he deciphered every word. His blue eyes enlarged, petrified.

“She was with you? Wh-why’d you let her see it?” He almost squeals in his fit of mortification. Serves him right, you think to yourself. He won’t have to face Wanda and apologize to her later.

“I didn’t know when you said “picture” earlier you meant a nude! Who sends a dick pic over email, Bucky?” Silence follows your outcry until his deep voice pipes up moments later.

“Is that not normal?” He is fiddling with his fingers, clenching his teeth in anticipation of your answer. Which is an expected:

“No.” The man in front of you turns feeble, wearing a humiliated face that turns your insides to mush. The twenty-plus minutes of lashing you were practicing in your head on your walk to the room disappeared as he turns his face down.

“I’m sorry, doll. You know...you know I’m not good with this stuff.” A sigh exits your lips as Bucky is approached by your consoling figure. You take a seat beside him on the bed and a comforting hand takes place on his metal shoulder, with you leaning your head down on the flesh one, closest to you.

“I know, Buck. Just warn a girl next time...with more than a wink.”

“In 1943 that was considered a warning.” The two of you chuckle.

“You know what, better yet...” your hands are flying to his pocket before he can stop them. He barely utters the question before you’re fingertips are tapping across the screen.

“Hey, what’re you--”

“You should really put a lock on this thing.” You chuckle. “A thumbprint, passcode...something.”

“You can do that?” His ludicrous question has you fighting a roll of your eyes. Shaking your head, you wait a few moments for the application to install on the device, and smile triumphantly when the neon yellow square pops up on his home screen. The white ghost in the middle of the icon stares back at him when you place the phone back in his hands.

“There you go.”

“What is this?” He clicks the app to find out for himself, only to be met with the options of logging in or creating an account.

“An app that’s appropriate for sending nudes.” Shivers trail down his spine from your whisper against the shell of his ear. He hums, admiring the screen for a few seconds and taking no further action to make an account.

“You need help, don’t you?”

“It’d be appreciated.”

Since that encounter, your significant other has learned the basics of social platforms and how to properly exploit each one for his needs. Ignoring the one week where he discovered Snapchat filters and send photos of himself in every single one nonstop, the most common one you two have grown to use is the messaging application. It was efficient and easy for him to understand.

Until he, much like when he used Snapchat, discovered something new. And that something new was emojis. After receiving a Snapchat notification from him, which could no doubt be holding either a photo of him with the dancing weiner or his actual one, he shot you a text message from across the compound.

did you see my chatsnap? 🌚

You chose to disregard the blatant, incorrect name and reply:

yes, buck. I get notifications

and WHY THE HELL DID YOU SEND THAT EMOJI??? 😫

what? it’s just a moon 🌚🌚🌚 see?

I can see it’s a moon Bucky. Why did you choose that one?

It’s nighttime. and I’m smiling. It fits.

It’s creepy is what it is

It’s just a moon! 🌚

STOP SENDING IT! 😖😖

fine.

🌝

🤦‍♀️ that’s not what I meant

it’s not my fault you’re scared of the moon, y/n 💅

You chose to change the subject then, no longer holding the desire to stare at the infamous “molester moon” or bucky’s new use of emojis in a sassy manner

please tell me the snap you sent isn’t of the dancing hot dog again

I could tell you that

but I’d be lying if I did.

🙄

🌝 I think this one's my favorite

The third time Bucky struggled with the new-age doodads surrounding him, his rage was at an all-time high. But his reaction is justifiable after discovering it was purely out of fear.

“Do you know what the weather’s gonna be like tomorrow?” He mumbles as the two of you were longing on the bed, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“Not sure, why?”

“Was thinkin’ we could go to that café. The one with the jukebox.” His head bounces with your body as you let out a few light laughs.

“Because it’s the one piece of technology you can actually use?” He pulls away from you defensively, a frown smeared on his face.

He whines out. “I am not that bad with technology?” You roll your eyes and reach for your phone on the bedside table, clicking the button on the side.

“Hey Siri, what’s the weather look like tomorrow?” You ask aloud, cueing Bucky to furrow his eyebrows.

“Let’s see...the weather tomorrow—“ you were unable to hear the rest of the AI’s sentence due to the sight of Bucky springing out of bed and tugging the set of sharpened knives from his pants.

“Whose there? Who the hell said that?”

“Bucky—“

“I think the complex may have been hacked. Come on, let’s go get Bruce o-or somebody.” He stutters out in a panic, tugging your body behind him in a protective manner. Siri was still activated on your phone, which was now lying on the bed.

“I’m not quite sure I understand—“

“Who the hell are you?!” He demands in a loud voice.

“Bucky, Bucky…” you rest your hands on both his shoulders, urging him to calm down. “It’s just my phone.” After the quick reassurance, he feels his shoulders slump.

“Oh...oh…I knew that.” He puts his knives away, following you as you crawled back into bed. Before fully getting beneath the covers, he sheathes himself of his trousers and top, leaving him only in a pair of boxers.

“Sure you did.” You reply.

“I did.” He insists, before covering both of you with your comforter. Before succumbing to a much-needed rest though, he reaches over and grabs a knife left on the floor, tucking it beneath his pillow.

Just in case.

The following morning, Bucky is no longer paranoid that the complex was hijacked and broken into. Rather, his mind was on a package he ordered online (AND ALL BY HIMSELF, a large victory if you ask him) that, according to the tracker, is one stop away. When you peeked your eyes open to admire him beneath the covers basking in the morning glow, his mischievous smile lit something warm inside you.

“What’s got you so smiley?” You yawn through languid blinks. He only responds with a shrug, aiming to keep the box a secret.

“Big day ahead, why don’t you go start us a shower. I’ll meet you there.” He smirks, blue eyes flashing with something cunning. At this point, you were even more curious.

“Big day? I thought we were just going for coffee?”

“When I’m with you, it’s always a big day.” His raspy voice is sly, metal hand even slyer as it glides up and down your hip.

“Alright Barnes, you win. See you in a minute.” You press your lips to his for a short few seconds and heave your body up from the bed to venture to the connected bathroom. As soon as you crack the door behind you, Bucky leaps from his spot in the sheets and nearly stumbles to the ground, his foot getting tangled in part of the bedding. He wastes no time scurrying to the front door, nearly nude and praying to God nobody would cross paths with him. Seeing the package laying on the doormat in all its glory--Bucky swore he heard angels singing hymns from above. Taking it into his grip and hustling back to his room took little-to-no time. When he slipped inside of the bathroom, he found you removing your hair from the messy knot you threw it up in the night prior, the rest of you bare.

He dropped his boxers and followed you inside the transparent cube, soon to become fogged with the warm steam and your panting breaths if he is lucky enough to pull another round from you.

Spoiler alert, he got lucky. Twice.

Whilst getting dressed, he halts your attempt at wiggling on a pair of leggings.

"I have a surprise for you." He says, waltzing over to the package he haphazardly threw on the bed in his eagerness to join you in the shower. The package lies in your hands seconds later, Bucky delivering you a nod as permission to tear it open. Once you do, your jaw unhinges at the packaging.

The small, pink sex toy stared back at you in all its glory. You could only muster a few blinks at it, wondering how your boyfriend managed to deliver this to himself all on his own yet still strains himself in trying to change his profile picture.

"Wha--how..." you are at a loss of words, to say the least. His piercing blue eyes grow dark at the sight of you holding his surprise.

"It's a big day today, because..." he snatches the packaged toy from you, beginning to open it, "you're gonna wear this out for me today. And I'm gonna control it." Your eyes grow big at his explanation before they dart to the now unpackaged vibrator.

"There's no remote." You point out, and gasp as Bucky holds up his phone for your eyes to see. The application which connects the controls of the vibrator to his phone stares back at you dauntingly.

"Figured I'd give this wifi-powered one a try. But, you know how I am with technology so...it may take awhile for me to get the hang of it," his tone is sultry as he mumbles, and it sends chills through you that directly target your privates. His eyes bore into yours, still holding that look of playfulness from earlier.

"Finish getting ready, doll. I'm ready to take this thing for a test drive."

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ddosie · 3 years

Note

# 2 and soobin for the prompt please!

you wouldn't say you were the sentimental type.

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

it was a problem that you had only read about in story books. the handmaiden watches the price she fell in love with get married. she moves on. the king lets go of the memories of his favorite knight. he moves on. the queen loses her son, her only son. she moved on.

they all moved on. so why couldn't you?

"class! class! let's start this school year by introducing ourselves! i'll go first. my name is ms. hilton, and i'm your english teacher for this year! i've worked at this school for a long time now, and i can't wait to teach all of you kids!

okay, now that i've done my introduction, shall we go along the classroom and introduce ourselves? starting from you sir, yes you with the white and black sneakers. please start by telling us your name and a fun fact about yourself."

you watched as the said boy stood up, pushing his hair back with his hand.

"uh... hi everyone, i'm soobin, and one fun fact about me is i went to Europe this year."

as the next person got up to introduce themselves, you found yourself staring at him.

jeez, he was tall for a middle schooler.

the sun is filtering through the blinds in your room, and rays of light are being painted across the walls. everything is a golden color, from the desk to the bedside.

"so... what topic are we choosing for this project?" you watched through the lens of your glasses as soobin furrowed his brow.

"do you think, maybe aristotle?" you nodded your head eagerly, so soobin stood up and walked over to the teachers desk. a second later he sent you a thumbs up.

"aristotle it is."

you twirled your pen in your fingers as soobin took a seat. "hey do you want to work on the project with me over the weekend? i know a really good café...?"

there was a small smile on your face, and you nodded.

"yeah sure, what time?"

you got up from your chair, grabbing a camera. in this lighting, the room was just too pretty to not take a picture of.

"y/n, for someone of that height, there is no reason you should be walking that fast."

you sent a small smile to the long-legged boy trying to catch up with you in the hallway.

"if you don't want to be late to class bin, you're going to have to put those legs to work."

you let soobin catch up with you, and you slowed down your pace from thereon so the two of you could walk side by side. soobin pointed at the trophy shelf.

"do you think we'll win this year too? i hope we do, yeonjun promised a party at his house if we get placed first."

you gave soobin a reassuring pat on his arm.

"you'll be finneee... if you win, i'll take you out to icecream after."

the boy turned to look at you, a smile creeping into his eyes.

"really?"

"really."

fiddling around with the camera, you brushed the light dust that had collected on the top off. you watched as the particles were swept away, dancing in the dying sunlight.

"we should do this every year."

you turned to look at soobin lying next to you, ice-cream sandwhich in one hand, while the other was tucked behind him, supporting his head. he was looking above, admiring the night sky.

"you mean climb some random apartment stairs to get to rooftops? and risk our lives every season game to see a different view of the city at night?"

soobin let out a small laugh. "yeah, well when you put it that way, it does sound bad." you smiled, lying down with your own ice-cream sandwich, propping an arm under your head.

"...i meant the icecream tradition. you'll be there for my next season game, right?"

now it was your turn to admire the night sky.

"of course. i wouldn't miss it for the world"

grabbing a tissue, you went to work at the camera, cleaning dust from all crevices and corners of the lenses. you were surprised. when was the last time you had even taken a photo on this thing?

"hey bin, what's up?"

grabbing your phone and placing it on your desk, you made yourself comfortable, ready for any facetime tea he would spill.

"ah, y/n..." you watched as he ran a hand through his hair from the other side of the screen. "i don't think... i don't think i'll be able to make it to your birthday this year."

there was a quiet silence. you felt like you'd been punched in the gut.

"if i can ask, um, why?" you fiddled with the hem of your hoodie, waiting for an answer.

"the schedules for the basketball game lineups just came out, and the final season game is happening on your birthday. i just wanted to tell you in case we do win that far and i won't be able to come."

you decided to smile at the way soobin had said just in case they win. the two of you were in your sophomore year, and he hadn't lost a game since middle school.

"yeah, don't worry about it soob. we can still get icecream after."

you felt a turn in your stomach when the boy gave you a relived smile, running a hand through his hair again.

"that's all i wanted to say, i've got to go now"

"hm? why?"

"chem tutoring. these freshman are horrible at science."

adjusting the camera, you zoomed in on random objects in your room. the bookshelf. your water bottle. the lamp. click. click. click.

“did you hear? that senior yeonjun will be throwing a bigger party than last year! are you going y/n?”

you shrugged. “when is it?”

“I think it‘ll be this saturday.”

"can’t. I’ll be out of town”

"for what?

“college. I sent an early application, and one of them reached out and wants me to tour the campus. if i go, I’ll have a guaranteed spot next year, and I probably won’t have to apply to any others.”

your friend let out a low whistle and patted your head.

"well when you put it like that, I guess you really can’t go… but maybe we could get something after the game? i heard the ice cream place was still open”

just like that, a mere sentence felt like a silent punch to the gut.

you looked away from your friends face, scanning the cafeteria unknowingly. you were met with the view of a senior tussling soobin's hair, an arm slung across his neck. you could hear their loud conversation even from where you were sitting.

"you coming to my house after the game? me and the guys we're planning to get some icecream and stay over at my house for the night."

you thought you saw something flash in soobins eye's before he smiled, nodding in agreement.

abruptly standing up, you tossed an apology to your friend about how you wouldn't be able to make it and you had just remembered you had some important emails to send. you didn't want to be around when the words of confirmation came out of his mouth itself.

so much for a flash. the last time you had icecream with him was two years ago.

adjusting the lens once more, you caught your eye on a ticket stuck between two books on your desk. you slowly pulled it out. it was blue and grey, your school colors. there was a hole punched on the bottom, indicating it was used.

"and it's the last two minutes of the game, and hybe high is in the lead! if they can make this basket, it will guarantee a regional win for the school. oh! there goes hyunjin... passing to donghyuck who... also just passed to eric who, jeez, passed to soobin...! look at that! look at that!! we are in the last minute everyone, and if captain of hybe high makes this basket, like i said they will be the regional winners!!"

you let the sound of the announcer wash over you, leaning forward in your seat to watch the game.

for some reason you kept coming back. to this gym. to the basketball games.

to soobin.

it had been over a year since the two of you had really talked, the last icecream run being well over three years ago (a promise to go before your birthday was conveniently broken), and the last facetime was to ask for calculus answers.

you knew that you had faded out of the life of the star basketball player.

you just couldn't accept it.

"and soobin gets closer to the rim... oh! it looks like taehyun from bighit acadmy is a pretty good blocker... anyways look at him go! we have twenty second left, and even if he doesn't score hybe is still in for a win... okay, okAY?? WAIT WHAT!! WHAT!!"

there's a loud screech of the intercom that mixes with the cheers of the crowd. you found yourself on your feet, fists pumping in the air in celebration alongside the students in the bleachers despite yourself.

"AND CHOI SOOBIN SECURES THE PLACE OF HYBE HIGH IN DISTRICT REGIONALS!! ONCE AGAIN THE ACE HAS TOPPED EVERYONE AND BRANG HIS TEAM TO VICTORY!!"

you held the ticket tenderly. on the backside was stamped senior, a marker that counted as a discount for the upperclassmen that wanted to watch the game. flipping it over again, you felt a wave of something hit your stomach as you took in the grey and blue.

"hey y/n, wait up!"

you whipped around at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

there, stood soobin, in all his six foot and one inch glory.

"you.." he panted, hands on his knees as if he had run a million miles. "you walk too fast. what's the rush? you were cheering for me so loudly."

there was that feeling again. of being punched in the gut. by that invisible hand that seemed to favor your stomach whenever soobin was around.

"ah, you know... just getting home."

you tried not to stare too long. soobin had grown, matured. the baby face he donned as a middle schooler was gone, only his dimples a reminder of the childhood smiles you shared together.

"you're not... going anywhere? going straight home?"

you gave him a small smile. "...yeah. i'm going soon, so i really need to pack. good game though! you really did good this time around."

"going soon... to where y/n? are you taking a road trip without me?" you sensed a wary tone under his teasing words. three years apart, and this was the news you would have to tell him. curse the fates.

"yup! im, ah... moving cross country. i got accepted a while back."

you could already see the question in his eyes. how far? which major? on campus or near?

why didn't you tell me?

there was a moment of silence while you rocked back and forth on your heels. soobin pushed his hair back, looking into your eyes.

the heaviness of a thousand unanswered questions weighed in the air.

"so... want to catch up over icecream?"

as you held the basketball ticket from senior year, you realized three things.

one: you were the sentimental type. you clung onto old memories and good times like they were life jackets, keeping you afloat in the mundanity of your new life.

two: you didn't really like the idea of always moving on. it seemed so easy in the story books, that after a couple years the queen goes back to her ordinary life, the king appoints a new knight, and the princess finds someone she truly loved. but was there a time where you would just stop caring? was there a day you would wake up and didn’t think about what could have happened, the if only’s and what if’s?

three: you couldn't move on. you prided yourself on being able to move faster, walking a pace before everyone else. life was a journey, and you were going places. quite literally. you were floating when everyone was sinking.

but you were only floating because you had your life jacket.

...

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you clutched the ticket in your hand, the end slightly wrinkled by your fingers.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

#sorry for the angst anon 😬#this was maybe quite possibly perhaps influenced by real events #txt #txt x reader #txt angst #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt soobin #soobin #soobin drabbles #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #soobin au #soobin angst #soobin x reader #choi soobin #soobin choi

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Blackthorn Tree: a Sesskag fanfic

Summary: The man smiled then, in a way that seemed ill-fitting for such a blank, porcelain face- all white teeth and glinting eyes. It was not a smile that assured Kagome. "Well met, dear one," he uttered, voice gliding rich and velvety into her ear canal.

Something niggled in the back of Kagome's mind, blue eyes widening. "Well met." --- Or: When the Fae King is owed something, he will always collect the payment. Even if it takes centuries. Fae King Sesshoumaru fic. Sesskag AU.

---

Don't expect updates right away from this one- I just wanted to post it because I held a poll a while ago about more Monster Sesskag AU's and this concept won, so I wanna reassure people I'm working on it lol. Those who asked for it were: @missidiotmakka @saviorclaire @cookieasylum @aizawa-slaysmee @frost-guardian @liz8080 @vanishaa @akinaichan @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @shamelessruinsfury @shastuhh @mrfeenysmustache @veroblubell @thesoaringaquila

Read here: Ao3, fanfic.net or Dokuga

Beneath the Blackthorn Tree

- chapter one -

"Buyo!"

Kagome huffed, lingering in the threshold of her home. Tightening a fluffy dressing gown around her, she shuddered a little from the chilly night air, closing the door behind her lest too much heat escape.

"Buyooo!" calling out again, she squinted, staring into pitch-black nothingness beyond the safety of their porch light. Silence answered her.

"Damn cat," grabbing her shoes with a string of grumbles, she roughly tugged them on and stepped outside. It was far too chilly to leave her out for the night, and besides, Buyo usually always came running the second they rattled her cat bowl.

The fifteen-year-old shuffled into murky darkness, making encouraging kitty calling noises and continuing to search for her dumb, sweet, dumpling feline.

Kagome shivered, rubbing her arms and glancing behind her. The comforting doorway of their humble house seemed much too far away, despite Kagome having not ventured too far into Higurashi Shrine's open courtyard. Everything lay far too still, quiet.

There were no insects chirping, no distant sounds from the city. It was as though someone had placed a huge dome over their house, sealing off all breezes or noise. It felt stifling; shadows hanging thick in the corners of her vision. Rippling. Expanding. Breathing.

Kagome turned her head slowly, staring into the endless void. Her heartbeat picked up. Quickening breath fanned out as visible plumes of mist. Goosebumps raised on her flesh. She gained the unsettling sense that she was being watched.

"Reow!"

Stiffening, she faced the sound's direction. "Buyo? Here kitty," she called, breathing a sigh of relief. Geeze, she'd gotten worked up for nothing. Stepping forward, Kagome wandered towards a large, lonely tree, guided by moonlight as it finally peeked out from behind thick, rolling clouds. Grandpa respectfully called it 'the sacred tree' but there was no need to heed any words from a guy who sold plastic charms and called them enchanted.

Reaching the Goshinboku, Kagome rounded its side, continuing her noises of encouragement to lure Buyo closer.

A strange luminous glow brightened the tree from within. Where before she'd thought it was moonlight lightening its branches, she stiffened upon realising how its bark radiated a soft blue shine. Power thrummed- pushing through her like a ripple on the tide.

Kagome stopped the second she caught sight of a child.

Their back was turned to her, hair short and snowy white. When they turned- startlingly clear, bright blue eyes immediately connected with hers. The boy shifted to face her, holding Buyo in his arms, who purred contentedly.

"O-oh...hello?" Kagome blinked, eyeing his clothing. What strange white robes. She got the sense he was Japanese, and yet his features were so pale and flawless. Not a hint of sunshine or blemishes touched his cherubic face- so much that he seemed eerily otherworldly. Too perfect. Human children didn't stand so completely still with calculating, predatory gazes, and was it her imagination- or were there tiny stumps peering out from his head? Like small, barely there horns.

The boy, who seemed to be around the age of six, stared at her quietly.

"Are you lost?" she asked, putting his strangeness aside. "I can call your parents to come pick you up if you know their number. If not, we should probably go inside," Kagome forced a smile. "It's chilly, right? You can keep holding Buyo if you want."

He blinked long white lashes, expression unchanging. He shifted closer.

"Kairi."

The boy stopped, glancing towards Goshinboku where a silky, deep voice had resounded from. Magenta stripes curling around the wrist of a pale hand caught Kagome's attention as it appeared from behind the tree, beckoning him with a lazy curl of sharp fingernails.

"Leave her be. That is not your mother," amusement coloured the masculine tone. "At least, not as you know her."

Kairi sighed, pouting. He let Buyo jump down- his necklace swaying from the motion, catching Kagome's eye. It had a strange symbol on it. She got the sense it did not belong to her homeland.

Kairi reached out to the hand, accepting it.

"Wait-!" she called, hurrying closer. "Hang on a second!"

Kairi glanced at her, pretty blue eyes glinting, smiling. The ghostly, long-fingered hand holding his own tugged- causing the boy to disappear behind the tree.

Quickly rounding its side, Kagome stopped. He'd disappeared, leaving not a trace behind. Even the tree's eerie glow had died down.

She sucked in a startled breath, having forgotten to breathe. Buyo padded away towards their house, leaving the high school girl to gawk alone. Sounds started to filter back into her hearing, crickets softly chirping. Humidity settled into previously chilled air, as though warmth had been briefly stolen, and then returned to the night.

Kagome never saw the boy again after that fateful night in the middle of July, nor the pale hand with its striped magenta wrist. Nothing unusual happened with their old tree. Buyo was the only one who knew about the bizarre experience, which was hardly a comfort.

And so Kagome placed it into the furthest reaches of her mind, putting it on a dusty shelf alongside her unused algebra knowledge. For ten years it remained untouched. Unexplored.

Until one day Yuka, one of her close high school friends- was flicking through a magazine. She wanted to hold her wedding in Ireland since her fiance had family there on his mother's side and a change in scenery sounded exotic.

"What do you think of this venue? We decided on holding the wedding in this area yesterday."

Kagome looked up from her wedding duties that consisted of choosing flower arrangements, stiffening.

"C-can I see that for a minute?"

"Hm, sure?" Yuka passed it over, stretching atop her bed and sighing. "You're definitely coming, right? I know it's hours away, but I'm seriously so excited to hold the ceremony somewhere unique. Eri is going to be majorly jealous."

Kagome stared at the familiar symbol carved into a dead-looking blackthorn tree, sitting alone within a forest. It was such a strange, out of place photo amongst the ones trying to sell Ireland to foreigners as part of a holiday package. All sprawling green hillsides, cliff sides and groups of medieval buildings situated on an outcrop of limestone.

"Yeah…" she murmured, an old memory slightly shaking to life. "I'll come."

#Sesskag #Inuyasha #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #Monster boyfriend

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

Darling, Buttercup

Prompt: Reminds me of you Relationships: Jaskier/Aiden Rating: E Content Warnings: Smut, butt plugs, orgasm denial Summary: On Jaskier’s birthday Aiden buys him a new present, and they can hardly wait to try it out.

A prompt fill for @dapandapod and a bingo square for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

It was Jaskier’s birthday and he fully intended to make the best of his day. They didn’t have anything special planned, but if Aiden didn’t completely pamper him then what was even the point? They had been housemates for three years now, having met in the second year of university in the Amateur Dramatics Society. Jaskier had been studying music and Aiden was a chemistry nerd. The musician was secretly convinced that his friend had just wanted to learn how to make poisons. He just had this energy about him, a modern day assassin. Aiden assured Jaskier that he had never killed a man in his life, but Jaskier just wasn’t convinced. Still, he was a good friend, his best friend.

They got on well, both incredibly flirty and carefree. Their drunken exploits were chaotic and Jaskier had a criminal record to prove it. His poor mother would be rolling in her grave. It was an easy decision to keep living together after university had ended. Rent was expensive and they were both broke.

And if Jaskier had a tiny little crush on his friend then nobody needed to know. Aiden tended to go for men that were more muscular than Jaskier, taller, with arms the size of fucking tree trunks. Whilst Jaskier wasn’t slender, he was certainly no body builder. He was a happy medium, strong and yet lithe enough to still attract men that would both fuck him and let him fuck them. It was a terrible stereotype but people made assumptions, and well, he was also guilty of that on occasion.

Luckily, Aiden was a very accommodating housemate. He didn’t complain about Jaskier’s stream of partners or the late night sex. Then again, on the occasion that Aiden had a friend round and Jaskier didn’t, Jaskier wasn’t shy about taking himself in hand and getting off to the sound of his friend fucking in the next room. He liked to imagine that Aiden did the same.

They flirted all the time, but that didn’t really mean much. Jaskier was a natural flirt, it was practically his second language. He just couldn’t turn it off, and Aiden was so very pretty, long dark hair tied up in a messy bun revealing his undercut. His tanned skin was covered in freckles and the light brush of stubble on his cheeks was just so tantalizing. Jaskier wanted to touch. He wanted to feel the scratch against his calloused fingertips. God, he was so gone on the man, but they were friends and that was fine.

Of course, their traditional birthday gifts didn’t help. Jaskier was responsible for about ninety percent of Aiden’s sex toy collection, and Jaskier’s drawer of silky and lacy underwear was filled with previous gifts from his roommate. Although, Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure if Aiden realised how much he actually wore the soft silky panties. He’d tried them on as a joke one day, but they’d felt so good against his skin that he’d never really stopped. Wondering what new pair he’d receive this year, Jaskier went downstairs. He already had a bottle of champagne in hand and he was ready to face the day.

Aiden was flipping pancakes when Jaskier entered the kitchen. There were two champagne flutes on the side, and the table was filled with bowls of berries, melted chocolate and whipped cream, all of Jaskier’s favourites.

“Oh this looks divine, darling,” Jaskier cooed, smirking at his own personal chef for the day. “Almost romantic.”

Aiden winked. “Only the best for you, my little lark.”

“Thank you, kitten,” Jaskier purred with a coy smile.

The innuendos got out of hand whilst they ate, but really… whipped cream? Jaskier was weak, he couldn’t resist, and he knew for a fact that Aiden had used whipped cream before in bed. That thought made Jaskier shiver, his cock swelling in his pants as he pictured Aiden licking the cream from his body. He knew, he just knew, that the bastard was good with his tongue. Jaskier had seen the way his roommate ate a banana.

But they were just friends.

There was no need to get hard at the bloody breakfast table.

“Presents,” he choked out before he could get too lost in his thoughts. “It’s my birthday! I demand presents, what delightfully pretty panties have you got for me this year, dear heart?”

Aiden flushed, worrying his lip as he scratched the back of his neck, his fingers brushing through the short hair of his undercut. It was a nervous habit and one that Jaskier thought was adorable. “I thought we’d have a change this year.”

No pet name, Aiden must have really been nervous.

“Well, go on,” Jaskier said with a wide grin, waving his hand in front of his face. “The anticipation is killing me, and I’m really not getting any younger over here.”

Aiden laughed, still nervous, but Jaskier was thrilled to have broken some of the tension. “It is your birthday, old man,” his roommate teased, but finally produced a square box wrapped up in a rainbow.

Jaskier peered at it suspiciously “You haven’t glitter-bombed me have you, kitten? I know I’m gay, but I really really don’t want to clean that up.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Just open it, buttercup.”

With a giggle, Jaskier tore at the paper, sighing in relief when a ton of glitter didn’t fall out the box as he peeled back the tape. Inside was a rather sizable butt plug, making Jaskier’s cock twitch again. He felt his cheeks heat up and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Arousal flooded through him as he thought about working himself open, his fingers brushing against his prostate as he fucked himself, ready to take the pretty plug that Aiden had picked out for him. Even better yet, Aiden could prep him. That silky smooth voice cooing into his ear, filthy and low, watching as the plug filled Jaskier up.

Fuck.

“I- hmm, I thank you. Aiden, kitten.”

Aiden frowned. “You don’t like it? It has buttercups on it, so… well, it reminded me of you.”

“Buttercups,” Jaskier repeated, his brain not able to form proper words. “Right, yes, my name. I like it, the plug I mean. Not my name. Although I do also like my name, I chose it. I’ve always liked buttercups and it’s just- ”

“Jaskier!”

“Buttercups....” he finished lamely. “Sorry, got carried away.”

“I can take it back?” Aiden asked. “I do actually have your traditional birthday gift if you’d prefer.”

“No!” Jaskier said too quickly. “No, yeah. I like it, love it actually.” And he really really did. The silicone was a pretty sky blue and covered in little yellow buttercups. The shape was pretty basic, but it was definitely a good size, bigger than the ones he already had in his collection. “I can’t wait to try it out,” he blurted before he could engage the filter on his brain.

“Well, what are we waiting for, petal?” Aiden shot back.

The pair of them froze, staring at each other in shock, mouths dropped open and matching red faces.

“Did you just…” Jaskier stammered.

“I mean, only if you want?” his roommate asked, with a cock of his head.

Jaskier whined and practically launched across the table, knocking their breakfast to the floor. Their lips crashed together, noses bumping, teeth clacking. It was terrible and they both pulled away to laugh, but it wasn’t awkward like Jaskier had expected. The natural chemistry that they had finally sparked to life as their lips met in a more skilled kiss. Jaskier was half on top of the table, trying to get closer to his housemate, whose hands were locked into his hair, keeping their lips melded together. Jaskier moaned into the kiss as he felt his heartbeat quicken, a warm rush of arousal flowing through his body.

When they finally broke apart, they were both panting and red faced. Aiden nipped at Jaskier’s lips as they parted, a cocky smile on his face. “Drop your pants, and bend over the table.”

“Fuck, yes. Yeah, okay,” Jaskier stammered and slid onto the floor, pulling his shorts down in one smooth movement.

“You- you wear them?” Aiden said, his eyes wide as he gazed at the soft pink silk that barely covered Jaskier’s cock.

Licking his lips, Jaskier sent his friend a wink as he bent over the table just like Aiden had requested. “Of course I do.”

“Jesus Christ, Jask.” Aiden fled the kitchen, backing out so that he didn’t have to take his eyes off Jaskier until the last moment. When he returned he had a bottle of lube in hand, a hungry look in his eyes as his gaze roamed over Jaskier’s arse. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

“Less talk, more action.”

Aiden laughed, his fingers running under the band of the panties before he gave Jaskier’s arse a quick swat, not hard but enough to make Jaskier yelp as the unexpected hit startled him. He felt his heart racing as he heard the click of the lube bottle, every beat was pushing fire through his veins, and he struggled to stay still as his fingers clawed at the table. Jaskier shivered as Aiden slowly pulled down his panties, and there was the probe of a slicked finger at his hole. It had been so long since anyone else had touched him there, his last few partners being women that really had no interest in fucking him into the next century. So he’d been left with his own fingers and his toys.

It was a poor substitute for having a partner.

One finger pushed inside easily and Jaskier whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he bit back a moan. It didn’t help that a litany of praises were falling from Aiden’s lips, cooing over how pretty Jaskier looked, how well he was taking that one finger, and when a second finger slid inside with the first, Jaskier keened. There was more resistance this time, and Jaskier fought to relax, but it just felt so fucking good.

“Fuck, Jask, do you have any idea how pretty you look around my fingers?”

Jaskier snorted, pushing his arse back against Aiden’s hand. “Maybe you should take a photo for later.”

“Not a bad idea, buttercup,” his roommate purred, then Aiden hummed nonchalantly as his fingers brushed against Jaskier’s prostate, making him gasp in a broken moan. Sparks flew in front of Jaskier’s vision, his pleasure building unfairly quickly. “I wonder if you could cum like this, on just my fingers.”

He could. He knew he could but his cock was aching, leaking onto the kitchen table, and he was so very desperate to touch. “No, no.. please,” Jaskier whimpered.

“No?” Another press against his prostate, another moan tearing from his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Kitten, please!” Jaskier’s voice cracked as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him. If he’d known Aiden was this talented with just his fingers then he would have pinned down his roommate years ago. Two fingers in and he was already teetering on the edge of a precipice, a fluttering in his core.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Aiden said cooly, pulling his fingers out and leaving Jaskier feeling so helplessly empty.

“Hey, no.. I didn’t- didn’t mean that,” Jaskier whined.

“Finish prepping yourself. I need to wash this.”

And with that Aiden left the room, leaving Jaskier alone and panting. “The fucking bastard,” he hissed, “fucking knows what he’s doing.”

“I can hear you!”

“Good!” Jaskier yelled back, grabbing the bottle of lube. He slicked up three fingers and pushed them inside his hole, groaning at the stretch. He couldn’t get the same angle that Aiden had managed, but it filled the aching emptiness from before and each movement of his fingers had him gasping for breath. “Hurry up, kitten!”

A hand on his back settled his restlessness, and he felt the press of Aiden’s lips on his shoulder. “Patience, buttercup.”

Jaskier’s fingers were swatted away and he felt the press of something larger, the pretty plug with buttercups decorating it, the toy that Aiden had picked out especially for him.

“It reminded me of you.”

Jaskier whined, his orgasm so close now that Aiden’s hands were on him once more, stroking down his spine so lightly that it was almost ticklish. Every touch fueled the heat at Jaskier’s core. He moaned and tried to wiggle his butt back against the plug, but Aiden held him still. One hand threaded into Jaskier’s hair, tugging and pulling his head back.

“Good boy,” Aiden purred, and the toy finally pushed past his ring of muscle and slid into him, filling him up so nicely.

Jaskier cried out, “Fuck, Aiden, kitten, feels so good.”

He was a babbling wreck as Aiden pulled the plug almost all the way out before thrusting it back in. Aiden slapped his arse once and then pulled Jaskier’s panties back up his legs. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“I- I… what?” Jaskier stammered, looking down at his cock, hard and leaking against the pink silk. “Aiden?”

His roommate raised an eyebrow at Jaskier, running a hand through his hair. “You can touch yourself if you want to cum now…”

“Or?”

“Or you can come to my room after dinner tonight, your call, buttercup.”

Jaskier swore and pulled up his shorts. He was so fucked.

#the witcher #jaskier/aiden #Jaskier #aiden the witcher #wolfie's witcher writing

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

anywhere i want (just not home)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

For the love of my life, the inspiration behind TS week, the wind in my sails… Happy later birthday @odd-birds-and-booksellers I hope you enjoy this

Always, Your Computer Wife,

Nina

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The pain in her cheek is still stinging as she struggles to open her eyes. There’s the faintest hint of sunlight filtering through the large window of her bedroom, a new day just beginning only hours after she’d finally been left alone long enough to find some peace.

The bed next to her is cold and empty, Paul having left for work while she was still crying and groaning in pain. He hadn’t spared her a second glance as he’d gotten dressed for the day, stepping over the puddle of blood that had collected on the floor where she’d laid for hours as he kicked her mercilessly, hurling harsh blows and leering insults as she’d tried to protect herself.

She pulls herself up and drags her barely conscious body to the shower, rinsing off the dried blood and sweat as she tends to the wounds she can see. She already knows she has at least one bruised rib and a sprained ankle, but she can’t do much about it now. For now all she can do is rinse off, lay in bed and hope that tonight doesn’t bring more of the same.

Jo bolts upright in bed, hand pressed to her chest as she attempts to slow her breathing down. The dream echoes in the back of her head, the painful memories replaying themselves in vivid technicolor right before her eyes.

She knows why they’re haunting her again, knows that he’s looking for her right now and that he won’t stop until he’s found her. Paul has made that much clear with his texts and letters, little signs to make it clear that they’re not done yet.

A hand closes over hers and she almost jumps before she remembers where she is. Jo squeezes Alex’s hand back, letting him pull her back down and into his embrace. As soon as his arms circle around her she can feel her body begin to calm down.

“It’s not even 2 AM, try and get some sleep, you need it,” Alex’s voice in her ears convinces her to close her eyes, even if sleep is far off the feeling of him so close helps to relax her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

It’s later that same day when Jo receives another text, the ping stopping her during rounds and prompting her to make a flimsy excuse to Meredith as she rushes to the nearest bathroom.

Can’t wait to see you soon, both of you.

The text lingers in her mind as her breakfast reappears, tears flowing as she tries to drown out the overwhelming noise in her mind. Paul didn’t make empty threats, that’s one thing she knew for sure. The texts she was receiving were just the tip of the iceberg for whatever he had in store for her.

“Jo? You in here?”

She can barely respond to Alex in between crying and being sick, her body overwhelmed as she tries to keep herself calm. Jo can hear Alex saying something incomprehensible as she begins to hyperventilate, his voice growing further away as her breathing became more ragged.

The last thing Jo registers before everything goes black is Alex holding her against his chest, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to calm her as his heartbeat echoed unsteadily in her ears.

When she comes back around Jo’s not shocked to find herself laying in a hospital bed, an IV and monitoring wires hooked up to her pale skin. Before she has a chance to overthink anything though Alex is in front of her, his hands running down her cheeks and wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized had collected there.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you,” Alex’s voice is soft as she meets his eyes, his gaze causing her to melt into another round of tears. “Oh Jo, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! He’s going to kill me, he already knows where I am and this time he’s going to make sure I don’t survive,” Jo chokes the words out, her fingers ghosting over her protruding stomach. “Alex, he's not going to leave me alone until both of us are dead. I can’t put our baby at risk like that.”

The thought almost makes her sick again, her daughter kicking against her hand as she draws in a deep breath. Of all the wild and unexpected things her and Alex had been through, their daughter was by far her favorite. Even with a few weeks left until she arrived Jo already felt a fierce instinct to protect the little girl growing in her womb.

“I’m not going to let him get anywhere near the two of you, I promise,” Alex brushes back a few strands of hair lingering on her forehead, pressing a kiss to the cool skin as he settles into the bed next to her. “You’re safe with me Jo, both of you are.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

Jo wants to believe Alex, she really does. Since her breakdown over Paul’s threats he had been by her side whenever he could. His presence was comforting but it did little to calm the raging mental battle she was fighting inside her head.

Now though, as she stares down at her daughter sleeping peacefully in her arms, she knows that she made the right decision. She just hopes Alex agrees with her.

“She's perfect, you did so good,” Alex had repeated the words over and over since Isla had made her appearance almost six hours ago, but they still prompt a smile on Jo’s face. “I love you two so much.”

“I love you, we both do,” Jo leans up and captures his lips with her own, lingering a little longer than she normally would as Alex’s fingers trace her cheek delicately. “Would you do me a big favor? I left my robe at home and it’s freezing in here. Could you go home real quick and grab it?”

Alex nods, a grin on his face as he stands from the chair at her bedside and gathers his keys and wallet. Jo watches him intently, memorizing every movement and expression that makes him exactly the man she fell in love with. He leans down to press one more kiss to her forehead then Isla’s before promising to be back soon.

As the door to her hospital room shuts, Jo looks down at her daughter, tears splashing onto the newborn's cheeks as her mother watches her, “Your daddy loves you very much, don’t you ever forget that.”

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

“Alex, are you coming to work today? It’s been a week,” Meredith’s voice rings out from the doorway of the loft, but Alex can’t bring himself to answer her. She’d been by everyday since he’d come home, her voice prodding at him the only sound in the loft.

He’d gone home to get Jo’s robe like she’d asked, finally finding it tucked away at the very back of the closet instead of hanging in the bathroom like it usually was. On his way back to her room, he’d stopped in the hospital gift shop and grabbed the fluffiest pink and white teddy bear sitting in the window. He had told the cashier that his daughter had just been born and showed off the photo of Jo and Isla that was already his phone lock screen.

And then he’d gone upstairs, the missing robe and teddy bear tumbling from his hands as he found an empty bed and bassinet, Jo and Isla’s bags gone from the room that they’d occupied not even an hour before when he’d left. He’d asked every nurse and doctor on shift but no one had an answer for him. When he finally made it back to the room, he saw the note hastily scribbled across a spare piece of paper, his knees giving way as he read the words printed in Jo’s recognizable script.

I couldn’t let him find us, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry, we’re safe.

Love you always.

J & I

He’d sat on the floor of the hospital room until Meredith had come to collect him at the bidding of the nurses on the floor. She’d given him a sympathetic look and held him as he cried, only letting his guard down for his closest friend.

The reality hadn’t truly sunk in until he came home later that night to an empty loft filled with baby gear and the scent of Jo lingering on every surface. He’d screamed then, throwing pillows and couch cushions and anything he could find in an attempt to get some of his emotions out in the open.

It hadn’t helped though, the sadness he’d felt morphing into feelings of anger and helplessness. Alex knew that Jo was acting out of desperation, doing what she truly thought was right, and he couldn’t be mad at her for that. No, his anger was directed at the man that had pushed her to that point, had scared her and haunted her every move so horribly that she’d fled Seattle with their newborn daughter in tow.

As he ignores Meredith for yet another day, Alex let his mind wander to Jo and Isla for a moment. He knows Jo would never run with their daughter if she didn’t have a plan to keep her safe, but just the knowledge that they were out there without him broke his heart.

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

His fingers press down the collar of the light blue button up once more before sliding the black suit jacket over it. He examines himself in the mirror of the hotel room one last time before turning to leave. He’d only been to Seattle once before for a medical conference, but this trip held a much more important air to it.

Brooke, his Brooke, was close. Closer than she’d ever been before and he couldn’t wait to see her again. He was delighted when he’d found her again, even more so when he found out that she was a doctor giving him the perfect opportunity to drop in on her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he saw her.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

When Alex finally makes it back to work he’s met with an abundance of pitying looks and unhelpful comments. He knows most of his coworkers have good intentions but he’s in the verge of screaming at the next person who interacts with him. All he wants to do is work and try and forget that his daughter and the love of his life aren’t waiting for him at home like they should be.

“Alex! I have someone I want you to meet,” Arizona’s bubbly voice almost makes Alex roll his eyes, the blonde not doing much to improve his demeanor since he was in no mood to meet anyone new. “This is Doctor Paul Stadler, he’s an expert on laparoscopic surgery techniques which is always helpful when we have tiny humans to save.”

Alex can feel his blood run cold as he turns towards Arizona and the man standing next to her. Whatever picture he had painted in his head fades as he stares at the man in front of him. Despite his bright grin Alex knows exactly what Paul is capable of, what he had done and threatened to do to Jo.

“While I’d love to meet your whole team Doctor Robbins, I’m not here on business today. I’m looking for Doctor Wilson actually.”

“Oh,” Arizona’s face falls, gaze turning to Alex as his jaw tightens. “Actually she’s-“

“She’s gone, she left,” Alex’s voice has an edge that makes even him flinch at how harsh and cold it is.

Paul eyes Alex for a moment, looking him over before speaking again, “That’s unfortunate. Would you happen to know where she is? I’d love to speak with her.”

“Well get in line then because I've been waiting for her to come home for the past three weeks,” Alex slams the iPad in his hands onto the counter of the nurses station, eyes ablaze as he stares Paul down. “You harassed her for months on end and scared her so much that she ran away with our daughter hours after giving birth.”

Paul attempts to conceal the smirk on his face but fails, causing Alex to step towards him with clenched fists. Arizona steps between the two men, fixing Alex with a hard stare.

“Back up Alex. I know that you’re upset about Jo but-“

“But nothing! He’s the reason my girlfriend and daughter are gone!”

“Okay why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Arizona’s hands squeezing his shoulders finally breaks Alex’s gaze away from Paul whose face has broken into a full on shit eating grin. Arizona and Alex exchange a look and he can tell she’s holding back her anger now as well. “Alex, go home.”

How can I when they’re not there?

The question echoes in his mind the whole drive back to the loft, Alex’s heart constricting as he sat on the edge of his and Jo’s bed. The loft was still empty, sounds still echoing off the walls as he sat alone. His mind brings up the image of Jo and Isla sitting in their hospital room as he walked away, not knowing that was the last time he’d see them.

He leans forward, reaching into his dresser and rummages around his sock drawer for a minute before pulling out a velvet box. When Jo had told him she was pregnant he’d immediately gone out and bought the ring. Not because of Isla, but because starting a family with Jo was all the confirmation he needed that she was it for him. Now the box sat collecting dust in his drawer, it’s future uncertain as he wondered exactly where Jo was.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

“And this is your daddy and your Auntie Meredith. They love you so much,” despite knowing that the infant couldn’t understand what she said or even clearly see the photo she had pulled up on her phone, Jo made sure that Isla knew about all of the people they loved in Seattle. “Your daddy misses you so much, baby girl. I’m sorry I took you away from him, I know that makes me a crappy mom.”

“You’re not a crappy mom,” Jo looks from Isla to the man sitting next to her, his hand settling on her shoulder as he fixes her with a knowing look. “You did what you had to do.”

“Some days it doesn’t feel like that,” Jo sighs, her head falling to his shoulder as she fights back tears. “I took her from her dad! I took her away from the only family she’ll ever have, Link. And why? Because I’m scared?”

Link pulls back from Jo, meeting her eyes as he speaks, “You had every reason to run, you know that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I wouldn’t want to worry about that all the time if I were you. Especially with a newborn, I get it. So don’t feel too bad for yourself, I think you made the right choice.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

“Jo?”

The lights in the loft are off but Jo’s car is parked out front. When he switches the lights on Alex sees Jo shoving clothes into a tote bag, tear stains tracking down her cheeks.

“Jo what are you doing?”

"I'm going to Stephanie’s for a few nights, just until I can figure things out.”

Jo’s voice is nervous and she's talking a mile a minute. She still hasn't looked up at Alex but he can see the bright red hives cropping up on her neck already.

"I'm sorry it was an accident but I’m going to

fix it. It's my fault, I'll fix it!”

"What are you talking about,” despite the fact that he's spoken up more than once Jo seems to be in a world of her own.

“Don't worry about it, you don't need more stress,” Jo’s hands are shaking as she closes the bag she's holding. "It's still early, it'll be an easy fix. I'm going to fix it, I have an appointment scheduled."

It clicks for Alex then just exactly what Jo is talking about. He sinks to his knees next to her tilting her chin up so she’ll finally look at him.

“Are you pregnant?”

"I'm sorry, I missed my birth control it was an accident," Jo’s tone is frantic now as more tears begin to fall. "I have an appointment, I'm going to fix it-“

"Jo slow down, I'm not mad so stop apologizing,” Alex wiped at the tears that had collected on Jo’s cheeks. "You don't want our baby?”

Jo blinked up at Alex as if nothing he was saying was making sense to her.

“What's actually the matter Jo? Why were you so scared to tell me?"

“I… I'm married."

“What?"

“I'm married to a guy who nearly beat me to death. And when I got pregnant I thought he'd

be happy and maybe he'd let up, instead he yelled and screamed and then he,” Jo pauses, eyes downcast as she looks down at her hands. “When he was done with me for the night I wasn't pregnant anymore.

“He wouldn't let me get birth control though so the next time I just solved the problem quietly. And when it happened a third time I ran. I ran and changed my name and never turned back,” Jo finally looks up and meets Alex’s gaze, eyes watery still as he watches her. “I had a miscarraige that time, probably because of how banged up I was. But it got me out of there. So when I started having the same symptoms again I freaked out.”

“Oh Jo…”

“Alex, I’m terrified of my past and of losing you and losing this baby… I’ve already lost far too much. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m all in with you even if it means we never get married. You and this baby mean everything to me. That is if you want it.”

“Of course I do, I want this more than anything. I want kids with you, I really do but…”

“Okay then we’ll do it.”

“Really? You dont think I’m too damaged or crazy?”

“Yes Jo, I want all of that,” Alex pulled Jo into his lap, placing a hand over her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you and you’re just about the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

The room is spinning when she pries her eyes open, dried blood making the task difficult. She tries to sit up, but the pain radiating from her stomach keeps her down. She knows if she moves she’ll make it worse, but her body is in pain and she can’t lay in this position much longer.

As soon as she makes a move, the pain is back. She thinks it’s his foot that’s making contact with her ribs now, digging into her back as her body curls in on itself.

“Stop! Please!”

The cries are useless, they always are, but she hopes that maybe they’ll convince him to end her suffering sooner or throw the next punch a little softer.

“Please stop! Stop!”

Her shoulders are shaking as she blinks her eyes open again, a pair of blue eyes staring down at her in concern.

“It was just a nightmare, you’re okay and you’re safe,” Link’s words help to steady her heartbeat a little, her eyes moving to Isla who's peacefully sleeping in his arms. “I woke you up because I just turned the news on. Take a look.”

“Former Harvard University professor Paul Stadler was arrested early yesterday morning on charges of battery and assault against his girlfriend, who is still being treated for her injuries at Massachusetts General Hospital. Since his arrest, three more women have come forward with allegations against Stadler ranging from ongoing harassment to physical violence and sexual assault. Boston PD is asking any other victims to contact them at this time.”

Jo stares blankly at the television in front of her, eyes welling with tears as the news footage continues to roll. She wasn’t alone and she was so close to being free from Paul’s hold on her.

“You have to go to Boston, your testimony could put him away,” Link’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, eyes moving from the television to him. “Jo, he’s going to prison. You can finally be free.”

The hope that had ignited her heart just moments earlier was crushed as she played through the possibilities before her. What if she testified and Paul wasn’t put in prison? What if he continued to harass her? What if he hurt Isla? Or Alex?

“I can’t. I can’t face him again… There's too much on the line,” Jo looks away from Link, her tears finally falling. “I have too much to lose.”

“And you’ll be stuck right here if you don’t do anything!”

“At least I’ll be safe then.”

“And what about Alex? You’re okay never seeing him again? Never letting Isla see him?”

Jo stands suddenly, facing Link with an angry expression, “You don’t get to make the calls here Link! I appreciate everything you’ve done for us but I can’t risk everything when there’s not a guarantee that it’ll end up well.”

Jo storms out of the room then, complex emotions overwhelming her as she sinks into her bed. She wishes things were easier, were more black and white instead of the fuzzy grey she’d become so accustomed to. But they aren’t, they never would be with Paul and now she’d dragged Alex and Isla and even Link into the pools of grey she’d spent so long trying to avoid.

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

Alex watched his phone ring for a moment, debating on picking up at all. He doesn’t recognize the number and he doesn’t know anyone from California. But he still clicks the green accept button, hoping whoever it was wasn’t going to waste his time.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m so glad you picked up.”

Alex freezes, stares at his phone for a moment, then brings it back up to his ear, “Jo? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” there’s a long pause and Alex almost thinks she’s hung up before she begins to cry. “I’m so sorry Alex. I’m so sorry we left you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know, I get why you left. I hate it but I understand,” a sigh leaves him as he rests his head against the wall next to him, tears forming in his eyes as well, “Are you okay?”

“Yes we’re both fine, I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have somewhere safe to run to,” Jo sucks in a breath, as if her next words are taking everything out of her. “Paul is going to prison.”

“I know, I saw. Are you going to testify?”

“I don’t know. I want to but… There's too much at risk. I don’t want him to hurt you or Isla.”

Just the sound of his daughter's name tugs at Alex’s heart, the tears that had been welling in his eyes spilling onto his cheeks.

“If you don’t go you’re going to be living in fear for the rest of your life. But if you do, you can get closure. And you can save more people from getting hurt by Paul.”

She lets his words sink in for a moment before he hears her voice again, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you and Isla both,” Alex can hear shuffling in the background, a deep voice and then a small cry.

“I have to go, Alex.”

“Wait Jo-”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead then and Alex can’t help the sob that breaks from his chest. He misses Jo, misses Isla, misses the feeling of wholeness that came to him when he would climb into bed with Jo at the end of every day.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

Alex doesn't know what drives him to fly to Boston, but he feels a small sense of relief when he sees Paul Stadler in the defendant's seat. A sick feeling makes itself at home in the pit of his stomach as he watches half a dozen women testify to the horrors that Paul had put them through, detailing the ways he had tormented them. Jo had never gone into detail to him but if what she went through was even half as bad as what he was hearing then he understood why she had gone to such extremes to hide from Paul.

He watches as the final woman testifies and finds her seat again, the courtroom silent except for the prosecuting attorneys whispering among themselves. Finally, one of the lawyers stands and addresses the courtroom, “Your honor, we’d like to call our final witness. The prosecution calls Brooke Elizabeth Stadler, now Josephine Alice Wilson, to the stand.”

Alex feels the air leave his lungs as he watches Jo approach the bench. Her hair is shorter and a dirty blonde color but she’s still the same woman he knows so well. The dark blue dress she’s wearing sways lightly as she takes the stand, stating her name and swearing in before she begins to give her testimony. Jo explains how she and Paul met, how they married, and then she goes into the abuse she endured. Alex listens to the detailed accounts she gives, accompanied by the numerous hospital reports.

“And then one day I got sick of it and I ran. I knew Paul would find me though so I fled the state and changed my name. I started a new life and I have a beautiful daughter,” Jo finally meets Alex’s gaze and he gets the overwhelming urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. “But Paul found me again and he was threatening me so as soon as my daughter was born I ran again. I left behind my new life, the only place I’ve ever felt safe because I knew he would find me again and I couldn’t risk him hurting my daughter.”

The air in the courtroom is thick as Jo’s words sink in. Alex knows he’s not the only one who’s been affected by her testimony and the words of everyone that went before her. The prosecutor thanks Jo, the defending attorney waiving their right to question her. As she steps down from the stand she meets Alex’s gaze for a moment before turning away and going back to her seat.

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

“Jurors, have you come to a decision?”

“We have your honor,” there’s a tense silence in the courtroom as the decision is handed off to the judge. “We find the defendant Paul Stadler guilty on all charges.” A breath of relief leaves Alex as he turns to look at Jo. There’s tears streaming down her face and the slightest hint of a smile as she looks at him. Before he can get up and go to her though she's surrounded by the other women who had testified, all of them crying in relief.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

She sees him about fifty feet in front of her, his back to her as he stands almost perfectly still. She watches him for a moment, his slumped shoulders and overall defeated attitude and for a moment she feels guilty for what she’s put him through in the past three months. Before she can dwell on the feeling for too long Alex is turning towards her, looking over her with that same sad expression he’d been wearing in the courtroom.

There’s a moment where all Jo and Alex do is stare at each other before she finds herself rushing forward and launching herself into his embrace. His arms are holding her tightly, refusing to let go even as she begins to cry into his chest.

This moment, the feeling of being in Alex’s arms again, is all Jo has wanted since she’d left Seattle.

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

“Alex, I’m so-”

“Stop, you don't need to apologize to me,” Alex pulls back from Jo, one hand coming to cup her cheek. “I get it, I understand where you’re coming from. I know why you ran so don’t ever think of apologizing to me. I’m just glad that you’re safe.”

A fresh round of tears springs to Jo’s eyes as she looks up at Alex, “I don’t deserve you. I’ve put you through so much.” Alex blinks down at Jo, not believing what he’s hearing. Their relationship had never been one sided, they’d both supported each through tough situations and had come out stronger at the end. In his eyes this was nothing more than another speed bump.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you back Jo. I love you and all of this? None of it changes how I feel about you,” Alex leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jo’s lips. “I love you and I’m glad you’re back in my arms.”

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

“Hey! I just heard the verdict!”

Jo turns at the sound of Link’s voice, a wide smile spreading across her face as her best friend comes into view. It’s not so much the blonde man’s presence that makes her grin as it is the infant in his arms. Isla is wide eyed as she looks at Jo, the three month old blinking up at her mother with a sense of wonder.

“Hi baby girl, I have someone who’s very excited to see you,” Jo eagerly takes her daughter from Link before turning and looking at Alex. “Isla say hi to daddy, he missed you sooo much.”

The look on Alex’s face as he takes Isla from Jo’s arms is priceless, tears welling in his eyes as he lets out a watery laugh. The little girl snuggles comfortably into his arms, as if she had done it a hundred times before and Jo can’t help her own tears as they leak onto her cheeks.

“You three get together, I think this moment needs to be remembered.” Alex and Jo both heed Link’s instruction and wipe their tears away to boast wide grins. The photo of the three of them squeezed together after a grueling ordeal graces their family mantle for years to come. Even when there are dozens of other family photos, pictures from Alex and Jo’s wedding, and the birth of their second daughter, the photo of Jo, Alex, and Isla standing in front of the courthouse in Boston remains the centerpiece of their living room as a reminder of the sacrifices they all made to keep their family together.

Look at how my tears ricochet

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #tsjolexweek21 #nina writes #jolex fanfiction

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bagadew · 3 years

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The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

#tgaa spoilers #tgaa #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the great departure #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #satoru hosonaga #jezaille brett #susato mikotoba #yuujin mikotoba

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mosylufanfic · 3 years

Text

Color My World (just paint it with your love)

For the Killervibe Gift Swap, a gift for @ava-has-a-closet-murderboard. Eventually I hope to get everyone a gift but it’s going real slow, y’all!

You see in color when you meet your soulmate AU. (Also obviously Ronnie died the first time and didn't come back as Firestorm, sorry Ronnie.)

Title from the song Color My World by Petula Clark

Color My World (just paint it with your love)

When Ronnie died, the world went grey in an instant.

Even as Caitlin screamed his name, she knew it was hopeless. Just the same as the world had exploded with color between one blink and the next the moment she'd met him, it reversed the moment his heart stopped beating.

For years, Caitlin assumed that Cisco saw the world in the same shades of grey as she did. She knew he was friendly and flirty and went on dates, and well - he was Cisco, after all. So she always expected to see him come rushing into the cortex one day, looking around at everything and seeing the colors after having met the person he was supposed to spend his life with.

So when she walked into his lab one day to find him comparing two apparently identical swatches, it was a surprise - but it wasn't.

"Cisco!" she cried, and he whirled to face her, stuffing both swatches behind his back. "Are you seeing in color?"

"Um, I - what? No. I was - comparing - um." He sagged. "Yes."

"You met your soulmate! Who is it? When can I meet them? What's their name?" She realized he wasn't looking as excited as people usually did in that first flush of color and love. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't met anyone new."

"Well, of course you have, you're seeing in color -"

"I met them years ago."

"Years? You've been seeing color all this time? You never said anything."

He nodded. "Sorry. Yeah."

"But when? And why didn't you - why aren't you - what happened?" Dramatic, overblown scenarios raced through her head, taken from cheesy cable movies with titles like "Soulmate to a Serial Killer.”

"Nothing happened, exactly. It's - " He looked away. "They're my soulmate, but I'm not theirs."

She goggled at him. You heard about those things, of course. Small percentages. Sad stories whispered behind hands. But knowing Cisco was one of them - "How do you know?"

"They'd already met their real soulmate when I met them."

She shook her head, attempting to wrap her head around it. "Are you sure? Have you told them? Have you talked about it at all?"

"Yes, I'm a hundred percent sure."

How could the universe be this cruel? Warm, laughing, loving Cisco, to be matched with someone who wasn't matched to him. To watch from the sidelines as they built a life with someone else.

It was almost as horribly unfair as losing your soulmate. No - no. More unfair. She'd at least had a life with Ronnie, no matter how short it had been. Cisco never had that with his soulmate, and never would.

"Why didn't you ever say anything? I always thought - "

"Because I didn't want you looking at me exactly the way you're looking at me right this very moment. Like I just told you my puppy has cancer."

She tried to rearrange her face. "I'm just -"

"Caitlin, it's fine. It happens." He shook his head a little. "I'm sorry I kept it from you."

"Who else knows?"

"Barry. And probably Iris."

"Has he met them?" A flush of - jealousy? she didn't know what to call it - washed up her throat.

"No, he doesn't even know who they are. Just that they exist." He shrugged and tossed the swatches on to the table. "Couldn't exactly keep it from him when we were designing suits together."

She said very quietly, "Did Ronnie know?"

He shook his head hard. "No, he didn't. No. Not even a suspicion. Look, I don't talk about it because there's nothing I can do about it, and there's nothing you can do about it, either. A soulmate is a soulmate, right? Even when they're not."

She reached to put her arm around his shoulder. "Cisco - "

Gently but firmly, he shrugged her hand away. "I've come to terms with it. It's just the way things are."

She swallowed hurt. "But you've been dating. Haven't you?" He had an app on his phone, and sometimes he would take it out and swipe through photos. She'd thought it was a regular app that just set you up on dates with other people who hadn't met their soulmate yet.

"It's a different kind of app. We all know the score. Nobody's on there to meet their soulmate. Just to find a good time."

"Is it just people who are - " She floundered. There was a term for people like Cisco, but to her mind, it was nasty and rude.

He said it anyway. "Third wheels?"

She made a face. It sounded even worse now that she knew it applied to him.

"Most of us, yeah. But there's a pretty good number of people who - uh - " He looked at her sidelong. "Who lost theirs."

"Oh." She couldn't imagine seeking anyone out after Ronnie. "Really?"

"Yup. I mean, they're not dead just because - well, anyway, if you ever wanna - you know. See the app. You can."

"Thank you,” she said. “But don't try to distract me. How long has it been?"

"A few years," he said. "Look, it's just a thing about me. Like having brown eyes and vibes and a rockin' fashion sense. Can you do me a solid, as a friend?"

"Anything. Of course."

"Let's never talk about this again."

Painted into a corner, she bit her lip. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

Of course, she hadn't gotten the chance to ask the question that burned the most. Who was it? Who could possibly overlook Cisco?

But she'd promised.

She thought about it, though. She thought about it a lot, in her cold bed, in her grey house with all the colors she couldn't see anymore. At her kitchen table, set for one. When she opened up her phone and looked at the last picture Ronnie had sent her, a selfie with a particularly gigantic donut.

In black and white, of course. Like everything else, all the pictures of him had drained of color when he died. It made everything sting worse. She'd seen his face in color from the beginning, but now she couldn't remember the exact shade of his eyes or the different tones of his hair.

She didn't ask Cisco anything more, but she did go down a rabbit hole of research. One-sided soulmate was the technical term they used in social science surveys. OSS for short. She looked at reams and reams of statistics, quantitative and qualitative and longitudinal studies. Some of the OSS's said they were happy, some were depressed, some simply accepted it. Surprisingly, the stats on their overall mental well-being weren't all that different from people who were with their soulmates, or still waiting to find them.

Some one-sided soulmates spent their lives alone. But others dated and slept with and sometimes even married others like them.

She gave into curiosity and read the research on people who'd lost soulmates. She found the stats there very much the same. A little more depression, maybe, but there were a surprising amount of people who did just as the one-sided soulmates did - dating, sleeping with, marrying people they met.

Sometimes those people even found a second soulmate.

When that particular revelation popped up on her screen, she dropped a full cup of coffee and completely ruined her keyboard.

The day everything changed was just a regular day at first. The Flash and Vibe were out investigating a sketchy warehouse, and Caitlin was trying not to fret while reading yet another study on people who fell outside the soulmate norm.

"Cisco!" she cried as Barry whooshed them into the cortex, almost doubled over trying to support his weight. "What happened?"

"Got my bell rung," he slurred. "Ow, dude, ow, gentle - "

"The guy knocked him into a concrete pillar," Barry reported, settling Cisco onto the edge of the bed.

"No, don’t lay him down. 'll take care of him. You go get changed." As he whooshed out, she gloved up quickly and checked Cisco's pupils. They were the same size, and he denied any nausea or dizziness, but she’d still have to monitor him for signs of a concussion. She set her penlight down and gasped.

"What?"

“You’re bleeding.”

He wiped his face and blood smeared across the back of his hand. “Just a bloody nose. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

She tsked and pressed a square of gauze to his nose, gently feeling its shape. It wasn’t broken. “Are your teeth okay? Your tongue?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t lean back! Just breathe through your mouth.” After holding it a few minutes, she checked, and indeed, the blood had stopped its flow. She let him straighten up. "How's your head?"

"Could use an aspirin."

"You got it." She turned away, but before she pulled her gloves off, she looked at the blood smeared over the fingertips and soaking into the gauze.

Against the light grey of her gloves and the white of the gauze, Cisco's blood showed scarlet.

At first, she thought she’d been mistaken. It had just been the blood, not anything else.

But then the sprinkles on the ice cream he brought her the next day showed up vividly blue and pink and orange against the rich brown of the treat. And the chips and guac she shared with him the day after that were pale yellow and brilliant green.

Color seeped back into her world a little at a time, mostly following Cisco. It was so different than before, but so wonderful at the same time. She'd forgotten how vivid red could be, how lavender was so delicate, how green was so rich. Sometimes she would just sit and stare at whatever had lit up today.

He noticed, of course. "What's wrong?" he asked one day, as the sunlight filtering through the skylights in the cortex picked out rich highlights in his hair.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"You were staring."

"There was a - a bug on you. But it flew away," she added hastily as he swiped at his hair.

It wasn’t like it had been with Ronnie. Then, it had been instantaneous, like a finger snap. Not this slow bloom of color, spreading outward from Cisco like watercolors soaking into paper, until every corner of the world had a different hue and shade. But Cisco wasn’t Ronnie, and she didn’t want him to be.

She worried about it sometimes. Did this mean Ronnie hadn't been her soulmate? That she didn't love him anymore? But she knew he had, and she knew she did. She would never stop.

It was just that she was one of the lucky very few who got a second soulmate.

And then the thought followed: what if Cisco's mystery soulmate was her?

She turned it over in her head, as carefully as an antique china plate. The facts fit. She had been with Ronnie when she and Cisco had met. She even remembered them telling him about their first meeting, over dinner or something. She struggled to remember his reaction, what he'd said or looked like, but couldn't.

And when Ronnie had died and the color had drained from the world, she'd told him that too.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, watching the newly colorful starbursts behind her lids. "Oh, Cisco," she murmured to his past self. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I never saw. I know you couldn't tell me, but I wish I'd realized you were hurting."

Watching her with Ronnie must have been torture for him. Watching her after Ronnie died - that must have been torture in a different way, her loss of color confirming every day that he wasn't her soulmate.

But it was going to be different now. If they were soulmates, he deserved to know.

And if they weren't -

Her stomach pitched uneasily at the thought.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she made her way down to his lab. She'd kept this secret for a month now, clasped to her chest. And he'd kept it for years. This was going to change everything,

For the better?

She hoped.

He was head and shoulders into the souped-up treadmill Barry used to test his speed, a tool box open next to him. "Hey," he called out as she came in. She never could surprise him. Was that a soulmate thing, a Vibe thing, or just a Cisco thing?

"Hi," she said brightly, almost shrilly. She swallowed hard and perched herself on the edge of his table, wiping her sweaty palms on her favorite skirt. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, just tuning this old girl up. How about you? What brings you down here?"

"Do I have to have a reason to come down here?"

He peered at her over his shoulder. "No, but you sure look like you do."

She wiped her palms again. "I was just thinking."

"Uhoh," he said cheerfully, turning back to the treadmill.

"About your soulmate."

Although he didn't say anything, all the cheer sucked itself out of the room.

"About, um, when you met them, and how long it's been, and -"

"Caitlin," he said in a heavy voice. "You said you wouldn't talk about this anymore."

"I know, I did, but I'm just curious - "

"You promised," he said. "You made me a promise."

"I - I did - "

He straightened up again, crossing his arms, resting the greasy wrench against his shoulder. His brows loomed heavy and serious. "So why the hell are you breaking it now?"

Okay, this wasn't broaching the subject like she'd thought it would. "You should put that wrench down," she said. "You're getting grease all over that shirt."

"Subject changed appreciated, but why - "

“And I like that shirt," she said. "I like that color on you. “It’s very flattering.”

He dropped the wrench on his foot.

When the clanging and the yelping and the jumping up and down and the checking that his foot wasn't broken had all died down, he wiped his greasy fingers on a rag, getting the fingers greasier. "So," he said levelly, "you met someone. That's great. That- that's awesome. What's their name?"

Oh. She hadn't expected this.

"Cisco," she said. "It's you."

He looked up, pain filling his eyes, and probably not from his foot. "No, it's not."

"It is," she insisted. Oh, wow, she hadn't expected him to be this stubborn about it.

"No," he said. "No. You met someone and you didn't realize, that's all. I don't know why you think it's me, because we've known each other for years, and it's never been me before." His voice cracked.

She reached out to take his hands. "But it is. I've been seeing in color for a month now. Just a little at first. But now it's everywhere. And it started with you. Cisco, it's you."

He shook his head slowly. "How?"

She shrugged. “I’ve been researching. Did you know it's a whole field in social science? The study of soulmates. Amatology. It's so much more complicated then everybody thinks, Cisco. We always hear how you know in the first moment, and it's just that one person, forever, and - and that's not accurate! You can have more than one. And you know somebody for years before they become your soulmate. And that's what happened to me. With you," she added firmly.

He was pressing his lips together. "It was - " he said, then stopped. Swallowed. Took a breath. "It was the first moment with me. The first color I saw was the gold of your engagement ring."

"Oh," she breathed.

He swallowed again. There were tears in his eyes. "I've loved you for years, Caitlin, so I need you to tell me right now. Swear to me you're sure, and you're not screwing with me, and you - " His voice sank to a whisper. "And you absolutely know I'm your soulmate."

"I'm sure," she said. "I'm not screwing with you. I absolutely know that you're my soulmate, Cisco Ramon. And you know why? Because I don’t want it to be anybody but you."

He kissed her, hard, pulling her close. She had half a thought for her meticulously selected outfit, then mentally consigned it to the rag bin and kissed her soulmate back.

When they had to come up for air, he rested his forehead against hers. "I never wanted it to be anybody but you, either," he breathed.

"Even when - Ronnie?"

He nodded. "Because he made you happy. I wanted that more than anything else."

She traced the lines of his face, the arch of his brows, the curve of his lips. Dear and familiar and beautiful. "You're going to make me happy too."

FINIS

#Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #killervibe #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #killervibemonth #killervibemonth21 #soulmate AU #the flash

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nocturna-starr · 3 years

Text

The Picture

Prompter: @gottacatchghosts

Prompt: Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out

Words: 1811

Notes: Related to THIS fic

“Hey Jazz, can you stand still for a minute? The lighting by you is perfect!”

“Daniel!”

A flash went off. Jazz blinked away the spots. Where had he come from? She would have sworn that it had only been her in the kitchen a few seconds ago. How had he come in so fast, or alternatively, how long had Daniel been watching her? Sometimes Jazz wondered who really was the ghost in their family, him or her?

“That was perfect!” Daniel cheered, “Now I’ll need a couple more photos and then you can go.”

“I thought you wanted to be a painter, Daniel?” Jazz frowned, “Since when did you care about photography?”

“Since I was the first one in all of Amity Park to catch a photo of the ghost girl in action! I discovered that I really do have a natural talent for it.” Daniel gloated as he changed the filters on his camera. Jazz smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her brother.

“Okaaayyy” She tried to sound like she was doing him a favour. If he knew that she was actually happy for him, then Daniel would never let it go.

“I knew you would agree!” Daniel grinned, “Now I have a bunch a filters that I need to try out! How busy is your day today?”

“Well I was planning to meet spike at the mall…”

“Perfect! I swear these photos are going to make you a star!” Daniel smirked, “Or at least get your name in the history books when these pictures come through.”

xXx

“I’m so sorry I’m late Spike! Daniel is on another stupid project kick.” Jazz huffed as she sat down in the mall’s cafeteria. Her friend looked up from the phone game he was playing. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Spike rarely ever tried out mobile games unless he was absolutely bored.

“And he says that he is nothing like his parents. Dude really is clueless to his own tendencies, isn’t he?” Spike laughed, “Maybe it’s a Fenton trait?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz asked.

“You still haven’t noticed my- You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Spike took a huge gulp from his soda.

“Come on Spike! That’s not fair!” Jazz whined. How could she even begin to guess something if she didn’t have a hint? She wasn’t a genius like her parents or her brother. She couldn’t help it she accidentally overlooked something that she didn’t even know was supposed to be there!

“Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz wondered. Spike only smirked. He was about to explain (or maybe torment Jazz some more) when he was interrupted by one of Daniel’s friends.

“Hey Jazz! Have you seen Danny?” asked her brother’s not-so-secret admirer, Sam Manson. Jazz sighed. Judging by the new camera hanging from her neck, Sam seemed to be encouraging Daniel’s new endeavor. That meant he would be taking pictures for the next month or so. It was something that Jazz was not looking forward to.

“He’s in the house taking photos of plants. Or he decided he wanted to go on another jungle adventure and went into the ghost zone.” Jazz rolled her eyes. She muttered under her breath, “Then I’ll have to save him again this week…”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to do that again?” Spike laughed, “Last time he got chased half-way across the zone by Klemper!”

“But he got some awesome pictures!” Sam grinned. She practically skipped away. Jazz giggled at her enthusiasm. She could see what Daniel liked about Sam. Maybe by this summer they would finally get together. Then they wouldn’t have another Ember situation.

“Your brother is going to get eaten by a ghost one day and all his friends are going to care about is that he got a good picture.” Spike snickered, “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jazz joined into his laughter, “Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him. You should have seen him when Tucker got attacked by Technus. He managed to get the two of them to stand still long enough for him to take a sketch.”

“And he didn’t snap a photo why?”

“As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel is just like our parents! He wanted to prove a point or something.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“You bet I do!”

xXx

The two best friends sauntered in the park, enjoying the beautiful weather and the lack of ghost attacks. It was peaceful times like these that Jazz liked the most. Times where she could just be a regular fifteen-year-old kid.

Of course, peace doesn’t last long in Amity Park.

“Wanna take a selfie?” Spike asked, “It’s been a while since our last!”

Jazz smiled, trying not to feel too guilty. Since becoming Jazz Phantom, she had veered away from cameras. In all of her research, she had discovered that photos tended to… change while in the presence of other ghosts. Yet the photos Daniel had taken of her, always seemed to end well. Maybe she was just being too paranoid?

“Say cheese!” Spike said, sounding way too bright to be considered a goth.

“Cheese!”

Spike took the picture, then went to see the results, “Uh… Jazz?”

He handed over the picture to her trembling. Nervous, Jazz took a look and paled.

Spike looked happier than he has in a long time. She on the other hand… If you showed the picture to anyone else, they would probably think that Spike had gotten a picture with Jazz Phantom herself! Jazz’s eyes were the bright red of her ghost form. Her hair was blue as the ocean. Her clothes looked faded, though if Jazz squinted, she could make out her logo.

All in all, this was a disaster.

“We have to get those photos from Daniel!” Jazz squeaked. She dived into a bush, transforming into her other half. Without a second thought she took to the skies, heading towards her home.

“Guess my plans have been cancelled,” Spike muttered, “Better tell mom not to cancel that trip to my therapist.”

xXx

“Daniel?” Jazz called while entering the house, “Are you here?”

Fentonworks was too quiet… Like her entire family was ready to attack her. She shivered, were they watching her? Jazz was afraid to even consider this. Maybe… maybe… Maybe her parents were out, and Daniel was with his friends?

“I’m up here,” Daniel called from up the stairs.

That didn’t feel like a trap at all.

With the very little courage she had left, Jazz carefully made her way up the stairs. Her yes darted around, waiting to catch the slightest movement. She prayed that her life was not about to fall apart. How could she have been so trusting? Daniel was her brother, but he had also been raised by ghost hunters. What if he warned her that she would have to leave? What if the government was here to take her away? These seconds could be the last of the life she had once known.

“Hey Jazz! The filters worked like a charm!” Daniel called from the top of the stairs. The ghostly heroine nearly fell down the stairs in surprise.

“Danny?!”

“Oh sorry. Totally didn’t mean to scare you little sis! Sam, Tucker and I have finally come up with a filter that can properly take pictures of anyone. No more red eyes, or blurry pictures! And it’s not going to malfunction around you like all of our other inventions!” Daniel was talking at a mile a minute.

Jazz sighed in relief. He hadn’t mentioned how her picture had looked. Did it mean that her brother had discovered a way to properly photograph half ghosts? She would need to steal a dozen of these camera filters which, knowing her brother, he would have around.

Jazz practically skipped down the stairs, “I was just seeing where everyone was! I’m going to go find Spike again! Tell mom and dad that I’ll be home for dinner!”

“Okay? But don’t you want to hear more?” Daniel asked.

She answered his question by racing out of the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her brother’s efforts. But Daniel could be just like Jack Fenton when explaining how something worked. She supposed she could be the same way when talking about psychology.

xXx

Daniel shook his head and sighed as his sister slammed the door. While he could understand her concerns, it still hurt to be rejected that way. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he knew her secret. She would freak out and try to trick him into thinking he just saw things. Now wasn’t the time for him to get down. He had just invented something revolutionary!

“How did you know that adding ectoranium to the filter would work?” Tucker asked, turning on the hall light, “And why did you have to tell her in the dark?”

“Cause it’s more fun to tell her that way. Who’d think that the ghost girl was afraid of the dark?” Sam answered for him, as she exited his room.

“Honestly, I forgot to turn on the lights.”

His two best friends howled but Daniel frowned. How could he have been so stupid? He’d after to reassure Jazz that everything was okay in a subtle way. Afterall, Jazz had a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions.

“I’m curious too,” Sam began, after she had calmed down a little, “how did you come up with the idea?”

“Ectoranium is the opposite or ectoplasm. I figured that the ectoranium would cancel out the effects that Jazz’s powers had on the camera. Now she can have her picture taken at school or join in family photos without a need for an excuse.” Daniel replied.

“That was very sweet of you Danny.” Sam gushed.

Daniel didn’t reply. Instead he headed back into his room. He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out the photo album he had been working on for the past couple of months. Carefully he placed one of the photos he had taken that day into the album. He flipped the picture over and wrote a note just like he had done to the other pictures.

This is the first photo taken with the new lens. Use the lens to reveal the true door. If the event has not happened, ignore this.

“Dude, the cryptic messages are a little freaky.” Tucker said.

“Call them safeguards, for just in case.” Daniel closed the book and hid it under his mattress again. Once he was done hiding his gift, he turned to his friends and smirked.

“Anyone want to see if we can get a picture of that Box Ghost again?”

“We’re in!”

#phic phight 2021 #jazz phantom #danny fenton #swap au

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voidcat · 3 years

Text

– pieces, scattered (around)

characters: oikawa tooru, you

info: comfort (maybe slice of life if u squint), 2.1k words

a/n: been listening to Last Words of A Shooting Star (Mitski) & Dreams Fall Hard (Car Seat Headrest) on repeat since yesterday... this is a cry for help-

By the time you hear approaching footsteps behind you, the cold has long past infiltrated your bones, making you unable to feel it at all.

You don’t bother to turn your head to greet him, already knowing how his steps sound and rhyme, years of unwanted experienceyou call that.

Just as you don’t bother to address him, Oikawa doesn’t bother to say anything as he sits down to your right on the dirty pavement. Vast, empty space all around the two of you, all kinds of trash and forgotten memories lying around, cast aside; it hasn’t been this full for years, and now, your presence and Oikawa’s break it, like a seal forgotten.

Knees to your chest, arms resting on top, and on them your head weighs down.

“A voice inside me told me I’d find you there.” Oikawa says.

His form seems more relaxed, not that you turn to observe how he sits, examine his posture, the way he rests his arms behind him, feet more scattered around.

“I didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone.” you say in a whisper. Not that you mean to, it’s just a tiring day.

You can picture him already, and yourself, in the familiar uniforms of beige and blue, hear a dry chuckle coming from his way, maybe turning his head to look at you and make a playful remark, or deciding to be serious like one of these rare times and reply with a short statement you’d not expect.

Oikawa doesn’t do any of these, instead he sighs out loud, resting his weight on his arms again, resting back, shoulders slopping, –with the sigh, you can hear all that weight he pretends doesn’t exist piling up on him, breaking that straight back everyone is so used to see and make him lose a centimeter or three.

“You always had a habit of being distant while your little friends were present, watching us or chit chatting.”

“Didn’t think anyone noticed.” You pause, “Then again, you’ve always been observant.”

“I’d prefer ‘You’ve always been better than others.’ but this works too.” You smile at this, it feels, normal, more than you could hope for.

Despite the minimum time you and Oikawa shared before, it feels like the calming sense of safety you get before you fall asleep, when it’s a sunny afternoon or a calm evening. And when you think about it, was there even a time it was just the two of you in a room, alone? You’d recall it if that were the case, because as much as you roll your eyes at what he said, he hasalways been something else, entirely.

“And what brings you to a forgotten sidewalk at this hour, when everyone else is back at the party thrown in, in your honor?” you raise your head then, as Oikawa stares straight ahead.

“What’s wrong with the hour?” his words come out, disinterested.

“You’re avoiding the question.” You state in a stern voice. Whatever peace you had a moment ago shattered.

He sighs, and you think you can hear the hint of a smile in it, “It’s not like I’d spend all my limited time back here at a stupid party.” He says as he shakes his head slightly.

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, “Yourparty.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s stupid.” He turns to you, a sheepish smile etched onto his face. “Besides, when’s the last time we shared some quality time together?”

“February 31st 2012, if I remember correctly.”

The small falls from his face, confusion clear until it’s wiped off with laughter, a genuine one you’re sure you’ve only heard from him once. Never in your life, you think, you cared about the honesty of Oikawa Tooru’s reactions and whether you could get one out of him yourself. Yet now that it has happened, you feel… content, accomplished, in a way.

Wiggling your index finger in the air, you put on a more dramatic voice: “Now now, don’t go soft on me and confess how you returned to see me. That would be a blow to the many devotees of the Grand King.” This only multiplies Oikawa’s laughter, to the point of making him tear up.

‘Nice one.’ You can hear in his laughter as he clutches his stomach and you direct your gaze back ahead, without realizing the smile on your face.

Soon later, his voice dies out slowly, without alerting either of you.

“I don’t get how you do it sometimes.” You break the silence after a while although your voice is barely louder than the wind.

Oikawa doesn’t glance at you, nor does he speak a word, –deciding to wait for you.

Head falling, resting your forehead to your knees, “How you can never falter, how you keep going and going, pushing, fighting… Just- how do you find that will in you, the ambition, the wish to do things?” hands falling to both sides, clutching at nothing, you stare at the tiny grains on the ground, in the cement.

“I feel like falling sometimes, you know. Or- wait, drowning. I’m drowning, until I let the water take me in, surround me completely and I feel comfort in it again. No more struggling, I am one with the water and it is with me. Doesn’t feel cold on my skin, it doesn’t feel like anything.”

Arms gathered front again, you itch your right wrist without noticing.

“In the air, when I’m standing, walking, sleeping, sitting, doing anything, I can feel my body. I can feel the air around me. It has turned against me. And the air feels hostile, sharp.”

“And the water-“ you raise your head and take in a deep breath, “the water is welcoming.”

“I feel like all I do is waste away my life, my time, and I don’t even feel bad about it. No guilt, not until the last moment. All these years have passed, I’ve come this far and- I’m still so utterly, completely lost.” The last part comes out in a sob and a choke.

Oikawa watches you the whole time, every time you breath in, he breaths out; whenever you sigh, he holds his breath, body never moving, eyes never blinking. Still, like he is made of glass.

The silence falls again, and heavy it does. Like glass shards raining down, pricking at your skin and only then Oikawa puts his hand on your right wrist before you can itch and pick again.

At the sudden contact, you look up, thinking you’ll be seeing Oikawa, but in his stead, stands someone you only saw from afar, maybe never saw at all. Without a mask he bothers to keep on, he seems foreign, a stranger.

The ‘Don’t.’ hangs in the air and in his eyes.

Only when you pull your left hand back to your lap, does he let go of your wrist.

“I know,” he begins “that no word of confirmation about how ‘you shouldn’t push yourself to be productive every day’ will help, or saying it’s alright to feel lost and look for something. You must know these already.”

“But ask yourself this: are you feeling this overwhelmed over these only because of yourself or does anyone partake in that? Would you feel like a waste if we weren’t forced to shoulder all these responsibilities and past hopes of our parents from our childhoods?”

“I-“ he cuts you off before you can speak up again, to further argue, to prove a point, your point.

“Look at Makki for once!” he sounds angry. “Unemployed, not living up to the dream life some would expect him to be, all these years of sweating blood and tears and he is not even mentioning the ‘s’ of sports.” Turning his body to you as well, he faces you fully, arm and hand gestures never stopping for a second.

“Do you think he is fully content where is? Do you think he doesn’t any days where he regrets the choices he had made, the paths he have taken? Do you think he never ever, not even once, considered Mattsun’s joke about selling foot photos for money?”

With each question he says, you feel yourself shrinking more, selfish, a part of you hisses; spoiled, another voice is about to join in –then you hear Oikawa’s latest words and get pulled away from inside your head.

“Did he seriously consider that?” you sound meek, frowning internally.

“Oh, he even designed a promo banner and opened a burner account. Took us quite the struggle to change his mind.” He says matter-of-factly. You giggle a little, missing the way he tilts his head watches you with another expression you wouldn’t decode.

This escape is short lived, not enough to distract you from all your worries and doubts.

Your smile falls back short afterwards, face returning to its default state, lips downward, a moody expression watching the world outside.

And a part of this world outside, Oikawa watches you, a lot on his mind and not a single one seems fit to be spoken out loud.

The stillness of your body bleeds into the scenery before him a little painfully.

Blending in without a bother, as if that is what you see yourself worthy of, where you’ve come from and where you’ll end up. Cold, gray stones that no one gives the time of the day, nobody bothers to keep them clean or throw their trash at. Just a place all too like anything else.

The sun is cold, the air hangs low, a gray filter pulled over the world,

He almost misses your words, embroidered into the idle day. “Why make us all have dreams,” you raise your head as you say the rest, a sad smile on your face “-if they’ll all fall, crashing down one day?”

“I’m sorry your bright young boy is dying.” You sing, done speaking and return to the lifeless state you were in, long before he got here.

“Then don’t.” Oikawa says.

“Don’t dream big, don’t force yourself, or force yourself into a mood you won’t fully fit in.”

“Isn’t it enough to crave a sweet in the middle of something and go get it in the evening? Is it not enough to get survive each day, remember to eat and drink, sleep and think?”

“I know” he turns to you then, “it must sound rich, coming from the guy who always preaches ‘Hit it til you break it.’ But that doesn’t necessarily mean breaking yourself in the process.”

Not meeting his gaze, you stay as you were, trying to shut him down, shut the musicdown, drown out the noises but there is no static noise tingling in the air.

Yet seeing how your posture has changed, shoulders tense and fingers no longer latching onto anything they come in contact with, Oikawa knows to keep going and speaking.

“No one truly knows what they’re doing, and whoever claims they do, is bullshitting.” thisearns him a smile and he returns it with one of his own although you cannot see.

“Dream small, take it easy. No big dream is worth breaking yourself in the process. Else, how can you enjoy it if you’re not there to live in it?”

You tense when you feel his hand on your back, a consolation, perhaps, an olive branch.

“Why did you come here in the first place, Tooru, really?”

“Honestly? I don’t know it myself.” The words come out of if without an ease. And why wouldn’t they?

For all this time you’ve known him, Oikawa had a way with words; knowing how to speak and in which tone, what to say and when.

Speaking was like breathing to him, like playing volleyball; almost on instinct and good at it.

And it was his turn to look ahead again, eyes focused on nothing, his hand already drawn back to himself.

“Even if there’s a reasoning within me, it’s not clear to me. But I am here now, I chose to come, and I would’ve left long ago if you truly wanted me gone.”

“Thank you.” You say when the night has fallen.

“Don’t thank me for voicing the things you already had here.” He taps the side of his head.

“It’s a pretty sky tonight.” You say in a whisper, “There’s nothing up there, must be light pollution.” He says in a whine and you can almost hear him pout.

“We don’t need to see them to know that the stars are up there.” You say to him then, and he meets your eyes.

‘I guess you’re right.’ is in the air, not needed to be spoken out loud.

And Tooru’s hand is holding yours again, fingers stroking over the nail marks you left hours ago, already beginning to heal.

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woahitslucyylu · 4 years

Text

Sleep.

GIF credit to @intimacypng.

Author’s Note: Here is Smut Sunday. Please forgive my lateness. I am a teacher in my real life, and it’s rough in these streets for teachers right now. Thank you for your never ending support, sleazies. You make writing so much fun!

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

You leaned into the pillows - the TV’s light bathing your room in a soft glow - as you watched Snapchats mindlessly. Selena was visiting a winery with her new boyfriend, Tina was thrifting somewhere in LA, and he was at a party - was that the clubhouse? You couldn’t be sure. Your thumb hovered over his name again, weighing the implications of watching it again. Swallowing thickly, you replayed his snap again and again - he would already see your name in his notifications, so it seemed harmless to indulge in endless views.

There he was - his dark eyes staring through you - penetrating your soul even through the video. He was at the clubhouse - Angel’s hulking frame towered behind the pool table as EZ and Gilly flipped off the camera as it panned around.

“Ay, come through for me and my brothers,” He requested as he winked in the snap, “We trying to hang out with you. Come on, ma!” He spoke as if he were asking for you. His eyes held yours and his smile made your pussy tingle as you watched it again. Why were you torturing yourself? You hadn��t viewed his snap in two weeks and hadn’t texted him in nearly the same. You had pushed him away - worn down by late nights and half-truths, and not even his golden dick could keep you satisfied. You wanted more. You begged for more, and that’s when you knew it was too much. The fight was explosive - the truth dipped in insults, reminding each of you why this wasn’t meant to be.

You collapsed into the pillows - your phone sliding from your hands as you sulked in frustration. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying your best to focus on the rerun of Real Housewives - feigning interest in Kyle and Lisa’s current catfight. Yet, your mind and your pussy continued to dream about Coco. Your phone vibrated in the blankets and the screen illuminated with a notification from Snapchat. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened the app - finding a little blue bubble beside his name.

“Oh,” You whispered as you clicked the conversation thread and read it again and again.

go to bed, ma. it’s past ur bedtime.

You smiled at the audacity. He taunted and teased for foreplay. You knew this game well.

You held the phone at an angle, snapping an off-center photo of your bent legs and lace panties. You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth - analyzing filter choices and listening for your conscious to remind you that this was a bad idea. No warning came as you typed a simple caption -

Can’t sleep, i’m not tired

You held your phone in your hand as you settled back into the pillows. Your heart beating fast as you waited for a response. Would there be one? It was early by club standards. Your home screen read 1:17 - early hours for Mayan mischief. Your phone brightened again - another notification. Your mouth dropped as you opened the thread - his hooded eyes staring at you as he inhaled a blunt, blowing the smoke at the camera. Watching him smoke made you wet. There was something about the way his hands held the blunt and his lips formed the most perfect ‘o’ that left you panting.

The video was tagged, and you cursed yourself for not reading it quick enough. You replayed the video and reread his message.

I’ll put u to sleep.

Your hips wiggled into the mattress as your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Who was going to speak for you? Your pussy or your heart? They were both lonely, but only one wanted to invite the boogeyman over for the night.

Shedding your t-shirt, you held your breasts behind your forearm and opened palm. Your nipple piercing peeked through as you chose a black and white filter - sending it without reservation. You held your breath as you sent your reply and waited for his response.

key still under the mat? be there in 10.

You squealed as you replied with a simple smiley, dropping your phone onto the plush comforter as you waited for the familiar rumble of a Harley to light the fire in your belly.

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

The door creaked as you sat up straighter - waiting for him to shadow your door frame. You stopped listening for footsteps early, when you learned that El Coco didn’t make any noise - a shadow in the night.

“Hey mami.” His wiry voice electrified your body as you sat up on your knees, drinking in his slender frame leaned against the door. His henley clung to his arms as his eyes studied you up and down. You suddenly felt exposed in just your tank top and panties and for a second, you wondered if it was a good idea.

“You still not sleepy?” Coco’s half smile was deadly as he shed his kutt, hanging it on the edge of the door, and slipped his feet from his Vans.

You shook your head in response, your voice was trapped in your throat, but he liked your submissive side anyways. He stood at the end of your bed, his gaze holding yours as he stripped. His pants pooling on the floor, his belt clattering on the hard wood as he stripped his shirt - your breath catching at the sight of his tattooed body. Only two weeks apart, but yet you raked your eyes up and down him, memorializing his image in your mind.

Coco climbed onto the bed - the mattress dipping as he pushed blankets and pillows to the floor until he kneeled in front of you, matching your pose. The air was thick with lust and forgotten promises as he reached for you. His hand roughly palmed your breast - his fingers rolling your piercing as your nipple hardened under his touch. Coco sat on his heels - watching your body give into him with each swipe of his finger. Your panties wettened with each twist of the metal bar as he tortuously teased you. You could beg or you could play, and you chose to play.

You held his gaze as you licked your palm and reached for his dick that rested against his thigh.

“Shit.” He hissed as his hand froze - holding your breast as his head lulled back, enjoying your tight grip as you jerked him. Your clit throbbed at the erotic sight - nothing made you come wet like this, watching his eyes flutter behind his eyelids, his mouth slack as he breathed deeply, letting his dominance melt into need as you swiped his tip with the pad of your thumb - his hips rising to meet you. The giggles were reactive; your body flushing with desire as Coco pushed you backward - your elbows catching your body.

“Don’t laugh, querida,” His knee forced your legs open as his hand slid over your panties, pulling them down, “I can play all night with you.” Two fingers filled you without warning and your hips arched, pushing him deeper as you rocked. “Oh fuck.” You clenched at his fingers and his gravely laugh left you dripping as he called to your orgasm - curling his fingers into your soft walls. “Is it funny now?” He taunted as his thumb pressed against your aching clit. “Oh Johnny, don’t move,” Your hips moved, grinding against his palm. “I found the spot, huh?” His hand rested heavy against your throat - the sounds of your gushing pussy filled the room. The sounds and the sight of Coco’s face above you was enough to send your body sliding into his hands.

“That’s it,” He mumbled into your neck, his teeth nipping your collarbone, “Is she feeling sleepy yet?” He pulled back - his fingers still inside of you. His gaze stilled you as he pinched your clit - pulling the glistening nub as he dropped a trail of saliva - the sensation strangling moans in your throat as you went limp against him.

“Not yet. I think she needs one more.” He nudged you - pushing you to roll over. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He rubbed himself against your raised cheeks, sliding his tip across your swollen clit as his hands danced across your body - trailing your sides. Each touch left your body tingling. You pressed yourself into the mattress - wiggling your ass against him - begging for his touch. “Don’t be bratty.” His hand came down heavy on your thigh and it jiggled under his assault.

“Johnny,” You whined as you turned your head, pouting as you looked back at him. “Tell me how bad you want it.” His eyes were clouded with lust as he gripped himself - slapping your glistening lips with his dick. You sighed - he was so close, yet so far, “You feel so good when you’re in me. I dream about it.” Your hand slid between your legs as you slid your knees apart - your fingers sliding into your creamed center.

“Damn, ma. You really got my attention. Do it again.” He strangled a command as he wrapped his hand around his length - jerking himself in tandem with you as you rubbed your clit - your hips rocking against your own hand.

“Baby, you feel so much better. Fill me up, please.” You felt yourself dripping down your leg and Coco noticed too as he dipped low - licking your arousal from your thighs. “Johnny, please. I just want to come on your dick.” You pleaded - the edge in your voice clear.

You felt him press against you as he slid his dick between your folds - pushing into you all at once.

“Fuck, papi, fuck.” You panted. Coco felt your heartbeat in your pussy - your walls pulsing around him, edged to the brink. Your nails gripped the sheets as you steadied yourself against his powerful thrusts - each time, his sack hitting against you, sending quivers through your body.

His long fingers tangled through your hair - pulling your head close as he leaned into you. “Oh my god, right there.” Your hips pushed back against him as he buried his head in your neck - hot kisses searing into your skin. Grinding against him, you felt the burn in your belly as his strokes slowed - letting you feel every ridge of his heavy dick. “Yeah, baby girl, I feel you.” His praise was enough as your legs shook with your orgasm. Coco’s tattooed hand slid over your throat, pulling you into him, as you came hard - spilling over the sheets. “Fuck, it’s too good.” He groaned as he fell onto you - his cum warming your insides.

Your breaths came in unison as you laid connected - his hands intertwining with yours - the most intimate gesture. “Ah, come on, mami, let me go.” He teased as he pulled out - you and him sliding down your thigh as you rolled to your side - wrapping the sheet around your naked body.

The air was still once more. The passion bubbled over, leaving steaming questions and faint regret in its wake. His hand found yours once more - his tattoos in stark contrast to your unblemished skin. You smiled lazily as your eyes fluttered as sleep slowly came - your last vision of a sleepy Johnny with his lips parted and eyes closed.

#SmutSunday #johnny coco cruz #johnny coco cruz x reader #johnny coco cruz fanfic #Mayans MC #mayans fx #mayans fanfic #mayans headcanons #mayansmc fanfiction

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vanillann · 4 years

Text

all too well (sirius black x f.reader)

sorry i’ve been in a sirius mood lately!!

inspired by “all too well” by taylor swift

word count: 3.0k (i went crazy)

warning: swearing, a small metion of sirius mother beating him (it’s barely mentioned), and ANGST

“Black! Potter!”

Slughorn turned to the two laughing fools, each closing their mouths but small giggles managed to make it through the side of their lips.

“That’s it! Black move to sit with (L/N) and Evans will sit with Potter.”

Lily's face dropped from beside me, grabbing her book and giving me sorry eyes. She had a feeling Black wouldn’t be much better than Potter.

Both boys face lit up, Black grabbing his belongings and running to the seat beside me.

“Morning (L/N),” Black muttered, throwing his books to the table and turning to give Potter a thumbs-up behind Lily's hair.

“I think you might be a little too excited.”

“This is his chance,” Black finally turned from the two and let his head fall to lay on the wooden desk.

“Do you understand what he’s saying?”

“Nope,” I looked at the boy, a smirk playing at his lips as he slowly picked up his head.

“You’re telling me you weren’t paying attention?”

“Yep,” I popped the “p” giving a sarcastic smile before flipping through the pages of the book.

“I thought you were a goody-two-shoes.”

“You thought wrong.”

He looked to me with a little smirk, this quill passing between his fingers.

“Where have you’ve been all my life?”

“Sirius!”

I laughed as I felt my body collapse into the Black Lake, my body dripping in freezing water. I let myself sink further down, playing a prank on him as he waited for me to come back up.

I heard his voice muffled like he was calling my name but I couldn’t tell as I held my breath a little longer. I was about to break the surface when I saw his body dive into the water. I let his arms wrap around me as he pulled me up, my smile bright as soon as I reached the top. I took a few heavy breaths as he searched my face for god knows what.

“That wasn’t funny,” he mumbled, his arm still wrapped around me.

“It was hilarious,” I smiled, kicking off his leg and floating back to the rocks where our robes and my scarf laid. I turned, pulling myself out the water onto the rocks, Sirius at my side in seconds.

“You’re evil, vile even.”

I watched the water drip from his long dark locks, my eyes so fixated on it I didn’t notice him messing with my scarf until he turned around with him wearing it. The bright green color was wrapped around his neck, one I had found at a shop years ago but it suited him better than I ever could.

“Hand it to me?” I held my hand out waiting for the scarf but it never came.

“It’s mine until you learn to behave,” he spoke with a cocky grin, hiding the yarn behind his back as I stood up reaching for it. He ducked my hand, laughing at my bored face.

“Sirius gave it back,” I reached again but this time became closer to me, letting his lips rest on mine. My head started spinning but I quickly let my lips mold with his, my scarf long forgotten at this point.

“Oi, he did it!”

I slowly took my lips from him, looking over to the castle to see the other three of his little group waving at us, Lily standing beside Remus and James with a little smile playing at her lips.

“I’m afraid we’ve been caught, love.”

“Look at it!”

Sirius spun around in the center of the small apartment, his arms wide as he looked to the dirty walls and what looked to be a bloodstain on the floor.

“I see,” I spoke lightly, careful not to bust his ego in the moment.

“It’s three minutes from Moony, five minutes from Wormtail, and a direct Floo to Prongs,” he spoke with a little giggle, running up to my side and wrapping his arm around my shoulder with a kiss to the side of my face.

“It’s something,” I still couldn’t get over the bloodstain in the carpet and what looked to be a knife stuck in the wall little ways over.

“I know it’s a mess, but it just needs love like I did.”

I looked up at him, admiring the way he looked to the way with shiny new eyes. He always was much better at these things, the optimism of the relationship.

“Yeah, he can get a nice couch-” I pointed to the wall with the small curve in it.

“An L-couch, I looked it up cause I know you like sitting in corners. It can be blue, I like blue couches,” he skipped to the wall I pointed at, letting his hands run over the paint.

I smiled at his excitement and the way he knew the little things about me that I barely knew of myself.

“I like that,” I set my bag to the side and slowly walked up beside him.

“I think we should do black walls because one day you’ll have my last name and we need to keep the same energy,” he spoke as if the idea of marriage wasn’t some crazy idea.

“You want to share a last name?”

“Why of course, why else would I have stuck with you this long?”

He smiled down at me, that same cocky smile from those days at Hogwarts still played at his lips.

“Well, we have a war on th-”

“No talk of war in our new apartment,” he held a finger up to my lips, smiling as he turned to me and slowly backed me up til my back hit the wall.

“I-”

“Hush now, let’s look at where I’ll be living with the love of my life,” he turned back to my side and opened his arm to the room.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst with him.

“Look at these Polaroid!”

James came running around the corner, the pickles Lily asked for nowhere to be seen as he carried a box with stickers on it.

“Oi, blimey,” Peter jumped up, grabbing the box from James and opening it to see a box full of muggle Polaroid they’ve been taking since first year.

“It’s Sirius when he got glasses,” Remus held a Polaroid of Sirius sitting on his bed in his dorm with square-shaped glasses sitting on his nose.

“You wear glasses!” I reached for the photo, Sirius jumped for it but Remus held it back until my fingers were close enough to grab.

“That was second year,” he reached around me for it but I turned closer to Lily and her baby bump to look over the photo better.

He looked horrible mad, which made sense. I looked to the bottom that wrote ‘Sirius Nerd Phase’ and a small giggle fell past my lips.

“They’re for reading!” He finally got the photo from between my fingers, shoving it in his coat pocket most likely to burn.

“I found (Y/N) and Sirius when he brought her to the dorm,” James held up, showing Lily as I leaned over to get a look. I had all of Sirius's blankets wrapped around my body as Sirius had a pillow he was using as a blanket while he sat staring at me.

“You still steal the blankets,” he whispered in my ear, the smirk obvious in his voice as I smiled at the sight.

“I can’t help it, you fell in love with a blanket theft.”

“Whooo!”

I held my hands reach to the air in the convertible James let us borrow for the trip downtown. I heard Sirius giggle from beside me as we drove down the street with a smile across my face.

“I love this car, think James will want it back?” I turned to Sirius who was watching me as his eyes filtered back to the road every so often to make sure no cars came out of nowhere.

“He’ll sell it soon with the baby but I don’t think I can give my dear motorcycle up love,” he spoke gently, like you would when telling a baby no to the candy in the store.

“So you don’t want to see this image for the rest of your life?” I lifted my eyebrows at him while giving a great big smile.

“Trust me it’s drawn into my brain forever,” he reached over waiting for a kiss, the car still flying through the air as he waited for me. I reached for him but my eyes filtered to the bright red light not far above us.

“Red light!”

Sirius looked up, slamming on breaks as soon as he saw it. A giant truck flew past us as soon as the car stopped, I felt my hand reach for my heart as I let my breathing steady out.

“Sorry love wasn’t paying attention,” he mumbled out, guilt-filled. I only nodded and let myself calm from the almost accident.

“We definitely can keep this car.”

“Shit!”

I slammed my hand to the table, my eyes watering at the thought of the last meeting, knowing Lily and James and Alice and Frank were now going into hiding to be safe.

“Love?”

Sirius walked into the kitchen, his eyes soft for the first time in months. With the war coming up the trust he had in everyone was slowly dissipated and he felt far away so seeing him look at me with emotions felt weird.

“Hey, sorry,” I let my thumb wipe my tears, looking at the clock that read 3:28 and I felt bad for waking him up with my sniffling and anger.

“It’s fine,” he slowly walked around the counter, watching me as I turned to the fridge and opened the door to look at the empty box of cold air.

“I’ll be quiet,” I mumbled back when I felt his arms wrap around me, I was amazed as he barely touched me anymore.

“Come to bed, yeah?”

“In a minute,” I still couldn’t bring myself to sleep and I knew he’d watch me until I did.

He waited with his arms still around my waist, a small tune humming between his lips when he started swaying.

“Sirius-”

“Dance with me like we did when I proposed,” he whispered gently in my ear, bringing a shiver up my spine at how cold his breath was. I thought about it for a minute before turning in his arms and letting him sway us side to side.

When I felt tears reach my eyes I buried my head into his collar bone, small chuckles rubbed his chest.

“Stop acting as I’ve never seen you cry.”

“You act weird when I do,” my voice was muffled on his skin and I felt his gon ridge for a second before he calmed down.

“Hate to see you cry is all.”

Nothing was said as the only light that filled the room was from the fridge as we swayed back and front until I slowly fell asleep in his arms.

“Oh don’t go there!”

Sirius pointed a nasty finger at my chest, his once warm grey eyes cold as they color itself.

“I wouldn’t have too if you started trusting someone once in a while,” I felt the anger in my chest bubble but attempted to stay calm for his sake.

“Remus is a werewolf for crying out loud-”

“You act as he asked for it!”

He let his finger drop, his eyes full of hurt as he watched me.

“You’re sleeping with him,” his voice wasn’t even a question like he knew the answer.

“Oh my Merlin Sirius, no I’m not sleeping with your best mate-”

“James is my best mate, Remus is a traitor,” he mumbled the words, looking at me with wild eyes.

“He’s not a traitor, we don’t know who the mole is yet!”

“Oh my you are sleeping with him,” he dropped the paper that was once rolled in his hand to the floor and let his finger run through his hair.

“I’m not sleeping with him, I haven’t slept with anyone in months because apparently you don’t want to touch me anymore,” I felt the anger overflow with each word, tired of all these stupid fights were kept having.

“Oh so you’re horny so you sleep with him,” he spat out the words like venom, slowly walking closer to me with each word.

“Stop talking about him like that! He’s been your best friend for years even when you lost everything he stood right there and you’re going to backstab him? What are you going to do to me?”

I was roaring with anger, stepping closer to me with each step I took as I looked to him with anger.

“Is your plan to get me pregnant and run? Maybe ruin my reputation in the wizarding world with my dirty secrets?”

“Shut up (Y/N)-”

“Gonna beat me like mommy did you,” I wished I had stopped talking at that moment but it was too late.

“Get the hell out of this house.”

I didn’t fight, turning to grab my coat and ran out the door. I slammed the door and looked to the wall outside, my breath heavy as I ran to the phone box to call Remus, hoping for a place to stay.

“Merlin.”

I sat on Remus' bed, my eyes heavy as I read the letter in my hand from Sirius.

Dear (L/N),

I revoke my proposal, please send the ring back as it’s a family heirloom and has no business in a nasty hag finger-like yours.

From, you should know unless you have multiple proposals

Remus sat beside me, rubbing his hand up and down my shoulder with sad eyes as he read the letter himself.

“I’ve sent three letters apologizing and I even went to him himself,” I spoke with a shaky voice, slowly dragging the ring from my finger as I read the letter again just to make sure it was his handwriting and this wasn’t a cruel prank from James.

“Stakes are high right now, once this war is over he’ll be waiting for you.”

I tried to listen to his words but all I could focus on was the fact that all that love we once shared was fake like it wasn’t real anymore.

“I’m sorry about the bite, I was aiming for the rat.”

Sirius had the red-headed boy arm around him as he helped carry him from the shake.

“Hey, Moon?”

“Yes?”

“Have you’ve spoken to- uhm her?”

Remus was taken aback by the question, as he never thought he’d speak about the two in the same sentence ever again.

“After the Order broke she left for the states, haven’t spoken since.”

Sirius said nothing as they reached the end of the tunnel, sitting the boy down before looking to the Black Lake quickly. His heart broke as he knew that they'd kissed moons ago.

“Maybe you can write her-” Remus' voice sounded far away as he walked to the edge to look to the castle, where he’d meet everyone who ever meant something to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the air, hoping to carry his voice to the state for her to hear because she deserves that much.

“Wow.”

Harry sat in amazement as I finished the many stories from Remus and I about his godfather, waiting in his empty house for the rest of the Order to arrive.

“He was on a trip,” I spoke in a cracked voice, Remus rubbing my knee as the emotions started hitting me. If only I came back a year earlier I could have seen him one last time, maybe I’d save him or maybe we’d run away together.

“He always knew what to say, you know.”

Remus picked up, sharing a few stories he felt Harry should know for the sake of the missing piece of him.

“He loved wearing another sweater,” Remus laughed at the distant memories when I fell into a loud fit of giggles.

“I never got that stupid scarf back, that bright green one with the flowers from the Black Lake,” I spoke most to Remus as he would remember it better than Harry.

“Green scarf?”

I nodded, smiling at his pleased face when he turned around with it hanging from his neck like a fashion show. Harry stood up quickly for where we sat on the floor, running to the cupboard under the stairs and looking through a box.

I couldn’t see what was in his hand until he turned back to the once-living room with it in his hand.

I felt my hand fly to my mouth, looking at that stupid scarf that Harry held between his fingers, still as bright as the day he stole it from me.

“It has something on it,” Harry walked to us, holding the scarf to me which I was scared to touch. The smallest piece of me hoped that touching it would bring him back like his soul was stuck to it or something.

I took the soft material from his hands, my brain working a mile a minute as I looked to the rolled-up letter that was pinned to the bottom of the scarf.

I quickly unpinned it, taking the parchment in-between my own fingers and read over the words that looked rushed.

Dear Goody Two Shoes,

You learned how to behave so I thought best to stick to one of my promises to you. I also returned the ring because it doesn’t fit on anyone’s finger as it did on yours, you were never a hag. Enjoy this photo and you better never show it to a soul.

From, Your Love

I felt tears stream down my face, looking at the old ring that was taped to the bottom of the parchment with the Polaroid of his beside it.

“Oh Merlin Rem, he kept it all,” my voice was strained as I spoke, Remus moved to sit beside me and brought me to his side.

Oh, Merlin, I remembered it all too well.

im horrible at angst so i’m sorry this is kinda a mess

general harry potter tag list:

@siriusmaraudeers @marauder-exe @haphazardhufflepuff

sirius black tag list:

@coldlilheart @inkhearthes

#harry potter x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #draco malfoy #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Tell Me Everything

Follows Found Out, Akio, Chris Sees, and I’m Here

CW: References to murder, suicide, grief, pet whump, abduction, whump of a minor, ableism, Oliver Branch manages to be creepy even now in brief reference

He’s shorter than Ben thought he would be.

Ben sees him first, but, like of course he does - Akio Nakamura isn’t exactly famous but he has his own youtube channel and is like an Olympic-level athlete, so he’s pretty fucking recognizable... if you’ve spent two days scrolling through every Instagram photo of him on three different accounts that you can find.

Ben showed up thirty minutes early, because Ben has never been late to a fucking thing in his life and something tells him this is maybe one of the most important things he’ll ever do, even though he doesn’t quite know why.

Something about it keeps picking at his mind, taking it apart, unraveling him with the reality that someone fucking cared about Chris, before whatever happened. Chris doesn’t remember much, and Ben and Laken had done the googling and searching and shit, trying to get some idea of what the hell could have happened to make someone like Chris - bouncy and full of sunshine optimism even on his bad days - end up at a place like WRU.

They’d found nothing a first. But Ben hadn’t known what he was looking for, then. Now that he knows what to look for, he can’t stop finding things. He feels like a detective or someone who has lost his mind, desperately piecing together a life that was interrupted, like someone disappearing mid-sentence, and Ben is following a trail of the words he said before.

He finds human-interest stories from ten years ago, digitized articles from old community newspapers. He finds more photos from the gym, photos where the redheaded boy is in the background, or in the front always looking slightly off to one side, rarely smiling for the camera but happy to smile as long as he didn’t have to look right at it.

He finds out Veronica Higgs, murdered in the double-homicide that had destroyed the life of Tristan Higgs, had a facebook page, and it’s marked as In Memorial. So is her husband’s, but Paul Higgs’s page is private and his profile photo is a meme that hasn’t been a thing since…

Since they died.

Something about that makes his throat close up as he scrolls Ronnie’s last few public updates, the scattering of people who have left comments saying they miss her, they’re thinking of her, they hope she’s in a better place. Comments are left on the last post like clockwork, once a year, by the same few people.

Thinking of you today, Ronnie.

Saw your favorite bird today!

Hope you and Tris and Paul are happy wherever you are now, Ronnie. I take comfort in knowing you’re still together.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Ronnie!

Left flowers for you today, Ronnie. Jennifer did a routine this year that uses some of Tristan’s music, we’re always thinking of you!

Thinking of you

Miss you

Hope you three are happy together

Miss you, big sister, always.

One day I’ll stop leaving comments like you’re still here. I was watching the old videos and gosh, I couldn’t help but think how proud we were of our boys back then! Rest in peace. Give Tris a kiss for me. That’s Aimi Nakamura, that’s Akio’s mom. Her profile photo is her with her arms around Akio himself, wearing his leotard and holding up a medal with a bright smile, and a younger teenager who must be his little sister - she’s just wearing regular clothes. Feeling like a stalker, Ben opens the mom’s facebook page in a new tab. He absolutely does not look at the photos of Akio she’s posted. He does not do that at all.

He might do that later.

For now he goes back to Ronnie’s page, sees that her last post was brief, something about looking for a recipe, crowd-sourcing. Tris asked to try baked oysters, isn’t that funny? Only my kid, I swear. He’d said seafood is ‘slime’ except for tuna since toddlerhood, but no, this week he wants oysters. He said he wanted to try something new for once and he might as well go as far from the usual as he could get. I

One of the joys of all of this is how when he gets something in his head, I just go with him, and we see what’s on the other side of the jump, right? Watch him spit it right back out.

It’s fucking ordinary.

She posted it a couple days before she was murdered.

That doesn’t seem fair, does it? He just can’t wrap his head around it. She was a good mom taking care of her kid, she got some recipe ideas... but then she never cooked any of them because she just… died?

She died, and Tristan’s - Chris’s - dad died, and then there just wasn’t anybody? There wasn’t anybody to take care of a kid who couldn’t take care of himself yet? Nobody at-fucking-all, to keep Tristan safe and loved when the people who loved him the most were gone?

How the hell did he go from placed in the care of relatives to just... gone? How did he go from gone to a rescued runaway pet with a new name and a new life? What happened in all that gray space in-between?

Ben blinks back tears.

Whatever it was... could that happen to Jamey? Ben’s whole family has built their existence on holding his little brother together through the ways the world wants to shred everything about him. He’s spent nearly all the life he remembers with his brother’s hand closed in the fabric of his shirt, shadowing him through the world, reminding him that you can’t trust everybody, not everyone has good intentions.

Ben doesn’t even have to think before he’s moving in front of him to block out the noise and chaos of the world that Jamey just can't filter the way Ben can. He knows that when - hopefully forever from now - their parents die, Jamey’s going to move in with Ben.

It’s never been a question. He doesn’t want it to be a question.

But... what if Ben wasn’t there? What would happen to Jamey if his Mom and Dad were gone, and nobody was there who wanted to keep Jamey safe? He can’t stop thinking about it. He cycles around and around, and Laken called him yesterday and said not to talk to Chris for a few days, that he saw the video and he’s not okay, and Ben’s not fucking okay, either, is he?

This could happen to Jamey.

Someone could see him, alone and vulnerable, and think, no one will stop me and he can’t stop me either, and then Jamey could disappear and then just not be Jamey anymore, and there wouldn’t be anyone to save him-

Ben looks up from his phone without focusing on anything, sniffing back the pain, the tight feeling in his chest at the idea of his little brother, disappearing into some dark hallway and never coming back. Just some photos on Instagram, a video of two, some mentions on somebody’s In Memorial Facebook page, that’s all that’s left of his silly, serious, annoying, funny little brother?

Like someone turned out the light on Jamey’s life and the world just forgets him, because his family isn’t there to keep him safe and Jamey can’t always tell who you can trust and who you can’t, and… and Chris can’t either, can he?

He just wants to think the best of everyone, he forgives everyone who hurts him so easily, so quickly, like it’s second-nature, like...

Did Tristan Higgs want to think good things about whoever did this, whoever had him erased, whoever handed him off to be turned into one of those blank empty-eyed dolls celebrities and rich people drag around? Did Tristan Higgs trust the person who gave him away to be erased, because he didn’t know not to?

Who the fuck bought him?

How did it all fucking happen?

The bell chimes. Akio Nakamura is right on time.

And he’s short.

He’s got a natural almost-smile on his face at all times, a hint of tan to his skin even now in the early spring, wearing a thin gray hoodie, unzipped over a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. His muscles aren’t visible, like this, but Ben has seen the videos and knows they’re there, the body of a trained athlete hidden under casual clothing. His hair isn’t as short as it is when he competes, in the videos Ben has already watched over and over entirely for research purposes. It’s a little longer, starting to flop over his forehead.

Dark eyes scan the interior of the store, and Ben raises one hand to catch his attention.

The smile brightens, briefly, with a quick nod - like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Ben feels that smile as a physical warmth in his chest - and he pushes the rest of the way inside, walking straight over.

“Hey,” Akio says, and his voice is a little deeper than it seems in the youtube videos where he narrates, and Ben, for one shining moment, completely forgets how to speak his own fucking native language.

His mouth opens and nothing comes out - except maybe kind of a croak, which, please let that not have been audible - and he clears his throat, waiting for his brain and his body to remember how to work together. “Uh… um, h-hey,” He says, finally, and shifts uncomfortably. “You’re-... right. I’m, um. I’m Ben.”

“Yeah. I, I figured, you look just like your profile photo.” Akio laughs a little, dropping into a seat cross from him, sitting casually and letting his eyes roam over the mostly-empty interior of the shop, painted with bright colors and lined with posters about ice cream.

Ben could not possibly have picked a worse place for a professional athlete to go to… meet and talk about his dead friend, could he? Oh, God. Oh he’s a fucking moron. “Right. Uh, sorry, I couldn’t-... when you asked to meet on the phone, I kind of blanked and this was the only place I could think of-”

“Hey, that’s all right. I like coming here, when I’m off from competing. It’s been a while. Hope you don’t mind if I stick with an iced coffee today, though, I’m not feeling ice cream.” Akio grins at him, and Ben’s knees might buckle if he wasn’t sitting down already. The smile takes over his entire face, lights it up, and it reminds him so much of Chris when he’s really happy, the way Chris smiles with his entire fucking body, not just his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s… no problem, I’ll order, I picked here, anyway. Just the iced coffee?”

“Yeah, please. Also, I should warn you - my mom is lurking across the street faking an interest in whatever they sell at Paisley Poses and she’ll probably stop pretending she’s not here and show up before we’re done. She’s… uh. Well, get the stuff, and then I’ll, um, I’ll explain.”

“Right. Got it.” Ben’s grip on his phone is white-knuckled as he stands up, aware of every movement of his body as he walks - and he walks normally, right? Not, like weird? It’s not like Akio is watching him walk anyway, probably - over to the cash register. The cashier, whose hair is dyed a pale faded sort of seafoam green, almost the color of those weird mint shakes you can buy from McDonald’s in April, takes his order with a flat affect, unbothered, uncaring.

Ben doesn’t know what he orders for himself. His mouth moves and words come out and then he realizes he doesn’t know what he just said.

Whatever it is, he pays for it.

He takes the little number-on-a-stick, and carries it back to the table to wait.

“Iced coffee it is,” He says a little breathlessly. “Um, it’ll be just a sec. They’ll bring it out with my… with mine.”

Shit, what the fuck did he even order for himself?

“No problem.” Akio’s eyes move over his face, considering. He’s sitting slouched a little, but it doesn’t look quite natural - like his posture is usually so much better and he’s trying to look like everyone else. Ben’s eyes are drawn to his hands, folded over his stomach, over wrinkled white shirt fabric. He has a blood-bruise under one thumbnail.

What a weird fucking thing to notice about someone.

“I-I don’t really know where to start,” Ben admits, slouching himself. He runs his fingers over the textured case of his phone, a charcoal-black with rough edges. Jamey likes the texture on his phone, will just sit and rub the pads of his fingers on it over and over and over again, smiling in a distant way, sitting next to Ben on the couch while Ben watches TV and Jamey, who can go days without speaking and is currently one hundred percent all about how they film movies and tv shows, explains every fucking cinematic trick every camera is using at any given moment.

It’s nice.

It’s how Jamey says he loves you, by sharing what’s up in his head whenever he can, and Ben - when he’s home - always tries to listen.

“Yeah.” Akio laughs again, and Ben decides it’s a good laugh - strong, and not overly loud, and a little infectious. “Yeah, me neither. I don’t-... how do you even begin a conversation like this? Hello, nice to meet you, what do you know about my dead best friend? I don’t know what to say, just… we don’t even know they’re the same person, do we? Maybe they just look alike. Fuck.” Akio laughs once more, but this time it’s shaky, breathier. “I genuinely can’t decide if I want him to dead or not, I just-...”

Ben takes a breath, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone yesterday morning, exhausted and rambling after a night of not sleeping, their fear and grief and love for Chris, telling Ben to go ahead with this meeting, but Chris needed time. “They’re definitely the same person,” He says, voice low and quiet. “We, um. He saw the video you posted, and he kind of-... freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Akio blinks, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes are focused completely on Ben’s face, which would make him blush if he weren’t trying not to look directly at him. “What do you mean?”

Ben swallows. “Um. Just. He’s-... he doesn’t remember. Or… he didn’t. Seeing the video might have… brought some stuff up. Like, a lot of... bad stuff.”

Fuck, I’ve never heard him scream like that. Laken’s voice, rough-edged, laced with their tears. I can’t believe… he needs a few days, he can’t go with you to see this guy, Ben. He’s-... he’s super fucked up right now. I’m so glad his brothers know what’s happening to him because I-I don’t know what to do and he won’t let me anywhere near him.

Akio nods, slowly, and his hands worry at each other under the table, the smile faded and replaced with seriousness, uncertainty. “Yeah, when you said-... anyway, I looked the company up, and it’s-... it’s weird, I knew about pets, but I guess… I mean, he wasn’t old enough to…”

“Um… yeah. So, um. I know, but they-... clearly they still did...”

They sit there in an awkward silence, and then Akio pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Let me show you something. Tris and I shared our passwords for Instagram, way back, and when he-... went… when his aunt took his phone away-”

Ben’s eyebrows furrow. Something about that pricks at him. Miss you, big sister, always.

“He went to live with his aunt?” Ben asks. The cashier reappears, setting a plain iced coffee down on the table, and Ben discovers he apparently ordered iced coffee with a scoop of ice cream for himself, and that’s not bad, good for him. It’s even his favorite ice cream, vanilla with almond and chocolate chips.

“Yeah, his Aunt Jo, his mom’s sister.” Akio shrugs one shoulder. “I never met her, she never came to meets or anything. Tris always said she was kind of a shit to him and his dad.” Something in his jaw is tightening - and the line of his jaw is catching Ben’s eyes entirely too much for the seriousness of this conversation. He can’t stop himself from looking. “She’s who he went to live with, after. She took his phone away because he was complaining to, um, to my mom and I - my mom and Ronnie, Mrs. Higgs, were… you know, team moms.” He shrugs, and Ben doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. “He was complaining about how she took him out of therapy, and… uh, you know, Tris needed therapy, just-... it helped him to, um-”

Ben swallows. “Self-regulate,” He says, softly. “Redirect potentially harmful stims. Figure out how to filter.”

“Right.” Akio smiles, a little shamefaced. “Sorry, it’s been… fucking years since I had to think about this so much. It’s… I would show my mom his messages, and my mom would call Jo and tell her to get him back in therapy and back to practice, but… you know, the social workers said there was nothing we could do about it. We weren’t family. We made complaints, but...” Akio slumps, closing his eyes briefly. "God, I don't even know if they did a home visit."

Ben closes his eyes. Jamey, trapped with someone who didn’t let him go to his own therapy. Jamey, nonverbal on hard days, trapped with someone who didn’t learn signing to talk to him during meltdowns like Ben’s family did.

Jamey, trying to say he needed help with his hands again and again but no one’s listening, no one’s even trying anymore-

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice hoarse, and uses a thin plastic spoon with a long handle to get a bite of ice cream soaked in cold coffee taste, letting it dissolve on his tongue to buy himself some time for his throat to open back up. It’s fear in his chest, yeah, but beneath that is a bubbling, simmering fury, a distant anger for a hypothetical that he understands was Chris’s reality. “Yeah. My brother’s-... um, autistic, so I know… I know about it.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

Ben blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

Akio flushes, reddening along his cheekbones, and rolls his eyes at himself, slumping back down. “Okay, so, I promise I’m not a stalker, but when you messaged me I looked at your profile to see if you were just a creep. I saw the autism banner, so I looked and you wrote this really sweet thing about your brother-... how old is he?”

Ben almost forgets how to speak again. “He’s-... fifteen. Just turned fifteen. Jamey’s, um, his name is Jamey.”

“Cool. Yeah. So. I’m not a stalker. But, I’m just… listen, Tris and I started training at the gym together when we were like… seven. And I was seventeen when he, when she said… when she said he died.”

Ben’s breath catches. “Shit. She did?”

“Um. Yeah. A month after she took his phone away - we were calling her all the time asking to speak with him and stuff, my mom had kind of threatened to get social services involved again - she called my mom and said he-... um. Sorry if suicide is a thing for you, but…”

“No, I-I’m okay, I just…”

“Yeah. She told us he killed himself. We thought she was lying - oh fuck, she was lying, wasn’t she? - but so... but then you know, she had him cremated, and... I fucking-... I lost my shit, Ben. I didn’t compete, I didn’t train, I just, I just sat in my room for like six months bawling my eyes out and I told my mom it was just like she killed him, taking him away from everything when, you know, he was so sad and scared without them.”

Ben nods, quiet, watching Akio’s face as he speaks.

“My mom offered to take him, have him live with us, but… you know, she said no, and then he-... but he didn’t.” Akio drinks his coffee, absently, and Ben realizes his eyes are red around the edges. “Oh, god, he probably thought nobody cared about him anymore. Oh, shit. He probably thought we stopped giving a fuck. That h-he was al-... alone-”

He’s been crying. He’s maybe going to cry again.

Akio takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “He didn’t know-... shit. He probably just thought, no one’s coming, nobody cares, and… shit. I don’t know what to even think right now, just...” Akio slides his phone across the table. “Look at this. I locked it, when I thought-... but I kept it, anyway. I kept everything, I couldn’t-... I mean it’s just a box of stuff under my bed, but… I couldn’t throw any of it out, because… I don’t know. Somebody needed to, to r-remember him, and she wouldn’t have-... that fucking bitch told us he was dead. And she threw out all his stuff, so I’m... I guess I’m the only one who still has anything, so I just... kept it. Everything. And... this.”

There’s a moment where they both pretend Akio’s voice isn’t trembling.

“What is this?” Ben knows before the question is fully out of his mouth, but he looks anyway. Akio’s phone is still warm from his hand.

“Tristan’s Instagram account. We, uh, we took pictures of stupid shit a lot back then, and Instagram was, like, super new and all filters all the time, so you just-... but this is his. His mom encouraged him to use it because, you know, sometimes he could show stuff better than he could say it.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ben tilts his head, scrolling through the images. Most of the photos are just nothing - a cloud, books on a bookshelf, a tree leaf. Ben kind of quirks a smile at all the old Instagram filters right there, like looking in a fucking time capsule. Sometimes there are gymnastics photos, of the gym or of someone training. Sometimes Tristan himself appears in the photo, a blur of constant motion, photos taken by someone else. Photos of dinosaur bones at a museum, seemingly every fucking skeleton or fossil in the place.

“That’s our trip to DC, the team went,” Akio says, and points to a photo of Tristan and Akio, gangly awkward teenagers, standing in front of the Lincoln monument. Akio is smiling, and Tristan is looking up at the sky instead of the camera. “I like to look at this stuff sometimes? I know it’s been… it’s funny, we were talking a few weeks ago about how it’ll be a couple more years when he’s been dead longer than how long I knew him, but he’s not-... he was never dead.” Akio swallows, and his voice catches. When he speaks again, he sounds strained, forcing his voice to stay calm around the emotion that threatens to overtake it. “He was never dead. I keep getting caught up on that, because-... because how did we not know? How did we never… find him?”

Ben pushes the phone back to Akio. “You didn’t know to look,” He says, softly. “How were you supposed to find him if you didn’t know anyone needed to be looking?”

“I guess. My mom feels like shit, she’s been crying since we spoke to you. Well, I have, too. But my mom feels like she… she should have showed up at Joanne’s door and just taken Tristan by force, but, you know, the cops would’ve taken him right back, probably? That’s fucking kidnapping? And I keep telling her not to feel guilty, but she-”

“Yeah,” Ben says, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone.

I didn’t know he’d come home early. I keep saying I’m sorry but... He wasn’t-... he wasn’t ready for this and he’s so… he’s so fucked up. He won’t even talk to me. Every time Jake leaves the room we’re scared he’ll hurt himself again. He keeps telling me to find someone else, somebody easier, but I don’t want anyone else, god damn it, I want him!

“She’s taking it really hard,” Akio says, finally, breaking into Ben’s thoughts. “I mean. We both are. But, you know, I keep thinking I can’t do this but then I think… I want to see him again. I want to see this guy in person, not just in those photos and videos you had. I want to see how he’s doing, he looks-... he looks so good.” Akio coughs, like he’s trying to cover up a sob, not quite managing it. “He looks really good.”

“He is, he’s doing… he’s good. Um, he’s having a hard time with remembering some stuff, but overall... he’s good.” Ben picks his own phone back up, pops back to Ronnie’s page. “What did you say the aunt’s name was?”

“Jo, um, Joanne… something. Sorry, I don’t really remember her last name, my mom would-”

“Botham?” Ben looks up, and god, he kind of wants to hug Akio until there aren’t tears in his eyes anymore. But also that’s a stupid thing to think, isn’t it? But he wants to, anyway.

“Oh, that sounds right.”

“She left a comment on his mom’s-... I’ve been looking for everything I could find. I’m sorry, I know that’s creepy. But Joanne Botham left like a comment about missing-... hold on.” Ben clicks to open up Joanne Botham’s profile. A woman smiling in a profile photo, with dark hair. Something about the shape of her mouth is similar to Chris’s, but that doesn’t mean much, really. He scrolls down.

Name, stupid quote from a stupider movie, current city is a while away from this one, like a couple states away, but she could’ve moved… There it is.

The answer to his questions, all of them, all at once, right out in the open.

“Joanne Botham,” He says out loud, “works at WRU.”

“What?” Akio looks up at him.

“His aunt. The mom’s sister, she works for WRU. That’s where Chris was-... where they hurt him. Where they make pets.”

Where they erase people. Where they take someone like Jamey and destroy him and how many versions of my brother are there who weren’t rescued by somebody like Chris’s big brother?

“WRU?” Akio’s face twists, an ugly pain written across it. “They’re one of our team’s sponsors. I’ve never thought about how… oh my god. I, I never liked… I mean, none of us are, like, political about it because you can’t be if you want an Olympic career, not really, but we all kind of hated taking the money. My coach thinks it’s good because it gets people off the street, which is super fucked up, but…” His iced coffee thunks down on the table.

“What?”

“Oh shit. Oh holy fuck. They’ve been sponsoring us since we met with the old governor - he’s the one who hooked our coach up with their marketing team, and… oh my god. I’m gonna be fucking sick. WRU’s been my sponsor since like… a year after Tristan died-... didn’t die, I guess...”

“You didn’t know,” Ben whispers, staring down at Joanne Botham’s profile photo, scrolling through the profile picture photo album. He’s not maybe the smartest person on earth, but he can put two and two together for four. Tristan Higgs’s parents died, he goes to his aunt - who works for a human pet company - and he’s dead, supposedly, four months later.

Time passes. No sign of supposed dead boy.

Then Chris, identical in every way, appears with no memory of his life and a thousand traumas to heal from, rescued from something that Ben doesn’t know the details of, but he doesn’t have to.

Life as a pet, a life that made him terrified of bad weather and scared of people who raise their hands too quickly, unable to say no to anything when he gets scared, nervous about big vans with no windows, someone who says stupid fucking bullshit like silence is better than stammering when he’s upset, who sometimes has screaming nightmares that Laken has to wake him from that he refuses to explain to them...

Meanwhile, Aunt Joanne is putting up photos of herself traveling internationally, buying a new house, a new car, stuff she couldn’t afford to do before.

The math does itself.

It’s fucking true crime textbook, and it’s right in front of his eyes.

Akio’s jaw is working, and his eyes are glimmering again. He looks at Ben, and he looks weirdly lost and young, and Ben reaches out without thinking and grabs onto his hand. Akio grips on tight. His hand is warm, almost too warm, but also it’s the perfect amount of warm. “Do you think-... do you think she-”

Ben thinks about Jamey, scared and alone. He thinks about Jamey - and Tristan, the two of them mixing together in his mind - being dragged away, to be lost and overwritten, because no one was there to stop it.

Because someone did it on purpose.

Because no one stopped it.

“I think maybe she was lying to you because she didn’t want you to take Tristan,” Ben says, softly. “I think maybe she wanted to-... make money on him.”

Akio chokes, and leans forward, and Ben holds his hand as tightly as he can, feeling the other man’s fingers tremble in his grip. “I can't-... I can't even begin to deal with that, I just… So h-how did he end up in college? Pets don’t-... go to school, they’re not capable… are they?"

"Um. It depends, apparently?" Ben doesn’t know how much of this is something Chris would ever allow him to share. But Akio’s eyes raise, and catch his again, and Ben smiles, just a little, in an attempt to comfort. “He was rescued,” He says, softly. “I don’t know how, or when. He’d have to tell you that himself. But he’s, um. He’s just Chris now.”

“He’s just Chris, now.” Akio groans resting his head on his hand. “But not Tristan. So he really is dead, his body’s still just-.. walking around.”

“No,” Ben says, and leans in, getting Akio to look at him again. “He’s not gone. Not, like, the core of him, I think. We knew him as soon as we saw him on your video. We knew the smile, and how he moves, all of it. Everybody in the room knew him as soon as we saw him smile at you. He’s still there, he’s still him. I promise.”

“I knew it was him on your stuff as soon as I saw him dancing,” Akio says, brokenly. “H-he always did get obsessed with those fuh-fucking musicals and we used to make up routines to th-them-” His head drops, shoulders shaking, and Ben puts his other hand on Akio’s shoulder, moves around the edge of the little circular table, so he can put an arm around him.

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Akio says, muffled. “It’s not okay. We should have saved him, w-we didn’t know, we didn’t know she would… he probably th-thought we didn’t care... the social worker said it was fine, we’re not re-relatives, we didn’t know he wasn’t dead, we didn’t know he wasn’t gone, I thought I l-lost him and he probably thinks I didn’t even give a fuck-”

“I’m sure he never thought that,” Ben says, softly, and Akio’s hair brushes a little against the side of his face and he tries not to think too hard about how nice that feels, this is not the time or place, Benjamin, stop thinking about his hair stop it stop it stop it.

“We thought... “

“I know. But… you found him, now. He’s found.”

Akio sniffs back tears, mumbling, “Can I see him?”

Ben hesitates. “He needs-... he might need some time.”

Akio nods without looking up, but he leans a little on Ben. “I’m sorry, I’m being a fucking moron about this, making you comfort me and you don’t even know me, but I just-... missed him, and mourned him, and we go to see is parents wh-where they’re buried every year on the day that his aunt said he-... Is he h-happy? Now?”

Ben closes his eyes. That’s what I’d want to know, isn’t it, if it was Jamey. Is he happy now? Does his new family sign, do they know how to calm him down when it’s too much, do they know, do they care, if I’m not there does someone love him as much as we did?

I’d claw my way out of the fucking grave to make sure someone loves Jamey as much as he deserves.

“He’s happy,” Ben says, softly. “He was adopted by the guy who saved him, I think. There’s a whole lot I don’t know, you know, it’s not really my-... my story to, um, to tell. I just know some of it. He’s, um, he’s with someone, and… he’s… he’s happy.”

“Good. I just-... I want to see him.”

“I know. I’ll ask. But his partner... I’m friends with them, and they, um, he’s n-not... not okay right now, so...”

“I can wait.” Akio looks at him, intense, intent, eyes so dark Ben could fall in. “I’ve waited this long, I can-... I can wait a little longer, I just... I just want to see him, when he can see me.”

The bell over the door chimes again, and the two of them turn and look to see a woman who could not be more obviously Akio’s mother entering, looking at them, her eyebrows furrowed in immediate worry when she sees the tears on Akio’s face. “Aki?”

“It’s him, Mom,” Akio says, and she moves to him as if drawn, and Ben fights himself to pull back and away, to watch mother and son. Tristan had this, and lost it, but Chris has it, too. Life, interrupted at the second act, begun again with new actors around the main character. “It’s definitely-... it’s Tristan. But, she-... I have to tell you what happened to him. He, they-they made him a, um, a pet-”

She hitches in a breath, pulls a chair with a loud scrape from another table, and sits, looking Ben over, expression serious. “Tell me,” She says, softly, but fiercely.

“It’s, um, it’s a lot…”

“I’ve got time.” Ben is reminded of his own mother, in the simple steel flashing under her perfectly styled hair and carefully done makeup. Her eyes are red around the edges, too. She lays a cool, dry hand over Ben’s, and her dark eyes bore into him with focused intensity. “Tell me what happened to our Tris. I want to know what happened to-... I want to know what I didn’t stop.”

Akio looks sidelong at his mother, putting an arm around her, and he’s shorter than his mom but she seems to sag against him, and he can see how Akio takes after his mom, with the same wide mouth that normally seems always on the verge of a smile, the same dark eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “M-Mom, you couldn’t have known, we couldn’t do anything-”

“I could have gone to that woman’s… house, or wherever she was, and taken Tristan right out the door, and I didn’t,” Aimi says, and her voice doesn’t shake, but her face is bright red and her eyes are overbright and glittering. “I could have called lawyers, or the cops, I could have tried to fight for him and I didn’t. Ronnie deserved-” Her voice catches and her hand is over her mouth. Ben watches her eyes well up, her struggle to calm herself, throat working as she swallows and leans into her son’s embrace. “Ronnie… would have wanted someone to fight for him. I want to know what happened because I did the normal thing and not the right thing, because I didn’t let myself see it. I want to know what exactly it is that I didn’t stop when I had the chance.”

Ben sits back, takes a breath.

“He, um. His name is… Chris now,” Ben starts, slowly. “Christopher Stanton. He’s, um, he’s a sophomore in college, and… he was a human pet, for a while. We don’t know how long, nobody knows for sure, or who had him. I mean, I guess he knows and I think his brother knows, but h-he, won’t… won’t tell anyone who it was.”

Aimi’s whole body shudders, but her face doesn’t change, and her eyes don’t leave Ben’s. “H-how-”

Akio licks at his lips, and hesitantly says, “Ben thinks maybe that aunt they sent him to sold him. She works for WRU.”

Aimi’s eyes slowly close, and her breathing is slow but trembling. The two young men watch her. Akio’s knee bumps his under the table, and he doesn’t think about that, either, except it’s all he’s going to think about for the rest of the day.

“Okay,” Aimi says, after a long pause, and her eyes open again. A kind of perfect calm settles itself across the pain in her expression.

Ben thinks that this woman is probably fucking terrifying if it’s you she’s angry with and not herself.

“Mom, if we need to stop, that’s okay-”

“We don’t. Ben-... that’s your name? Ben?”

“Uh, yeah… Benjamin Prentiss, but-... call me Ben.”

Prentiss, Akio mouths to himself, and Ben hopes, in another weird moment, that Akio likes his last name.

“Got it.” Aimi leans forward, smacks the table with one hand. Ben flinches. Her jaw sets. She’s definitely terrifying. Like his own mother when they tried to kick Jamey out of school, this is a woman who could stare down the sun itself unblinking and walk away undamaged, if the sun was a threat to her children. “Ben?”

“Yes, um, Mrs. Nakamura?”

“Keep talking. Tell me everything about Tristan-”

“Chris.” He clears his throat. “He’s, um, his name is Chris.”

“... tell me everything about Chris.”

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#whump #suicide reference #brief self-injury reference #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #chris the strawberry blond romantic #ben is a good bean #akio nakamura #abduction ref #grief tw #parental death tw #ableism tw #guilt #survivor's guilt #murder mystery #sort of #jesus joanne #wru

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Romanced!Companions React: It’s All A Dream (Part 2)

Note: Almost done! I’m going to post a short hc request before the third part just to break things up a bit, but the last part of It’s All A Dream will be up within a couple days. Thank you for reading!

Gage:

Gage wakes with a start to a chilly breeze skimming across his skin. He’s in a garage, head resting on his arms folded over a desk, papers scattered around the floor from the wind. The rust on a nearby vehicle is familiar to the wasteland, however the similarities have stopped there. Lush trees dance outside the open door, highlighted by bright blue skies. This wasn’t the Commonwealth.

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep next to Sole with his cheek pressed against their shoulder, the rhythm of their breathing soothing him to sleep. Had he managed to black out a whole day? That didn't feel right. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered getting up that morning, making coffee to go, and leaving his house. His house... Right. He headed to the garage where he worked in Concord and made a quick stop by a local bakery. He'd fallen asleep after a lack of customers left him bored and exhaustion set in.

The Commonwealth began to feel less familiar and more fuzzy in concept the longer he had time to wake up. Was it a lucid dream? His neck throbbed at the awkward angle he had been laying at, and Gage quickly tilted it to crack it. What time was it? He leaned over and checked the nearby clock; it was five. Thank God, he could leave.

He stood and began to gather his things, leaving memories that didn’t belong to him at the desk to keep the piles of customer files company. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the garage walls as he made his way to the door. He reached up to grasp the handle and bring it down when he heard a voice call out, "Wait! Could you help me?"

The memories he'd tried to file away suddenly came scurrying back, whispering familiarity. Gage turned to face the owner of the voice and nearly stumbled at the sight of Sole jogging towards him. After a pause, he hefted the door back up. “Sure, whatcha need?”

“Oh, my tire blew just down the road and I don’t have a spare. I was wondering if you had any that would work until I can get a proper fit.”

It didn’t take long for Gage to warm up to them, despite the battling simultaneous lack-of and complete familiarity of Sole. An hour passed as they fell into discussion, small talk bleeding into deeper conversation about their lives, and they got to know each other all over again. Sole teasingly asked him if he’d walk them back to their car, and he was rewarded with a delighted, surprised expression when he accepted the offer.

They walked together down the road to where Sole’s car waited for them, their shadows and Gage’s memories of his dream floating closely behind. Gage leaned against the passenger door as he watched them change their tire, overshirt tied around their waist, the sun dipping low on the horizon behind them. When all was said and done they stood and grinned at him. “That should do it. Thank you. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. If you think you’ll be needing anything else, well, you know where to find me.”

“A coffee?”

“Huh?”

“A coffee… sometime. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, uh, I’d like that.”

What was visible of the sun lit up behind them, but it was nothing compared to the smile that spread across their face. They nodded, more to themself than anything, and moved to the drivers side of their vehicle, swinging themself in and starting the engine. “See you soon.”

Hancock:

The first thing Hancock notices when he wakes up is how much easier it is to breathe. Fresh air is filtering into the room, bringing with it the light scent of recent rain. The second thing he notices is that it’s way too clean smelling for him to be in the middle of Goodneighbor, where the air is consistently tinted with dust and smoke. It wasn’t uncommon for him to lose track of what he had done and where he had been, but this felt different. Mildly alarmed, his eyes shot open.

The blankets resting over his chest were spotlessly clean, and the room around him lacked a clear layer of grime that couldn’t be scrubbed out. This wasn’t Goodneighbor, and this certainly wasn’t the Commonwealth he knew. Despite his alarm it was difficult for him to force himself to sit up in bed; he hadn’t experienced that level of comfort… well, ever.

A sudden knock on the door startled him into sitting up. The door cracked open and Sole poked their head in. “Hey, you have that interview today, right?” They asked softly, as if trying not to disturb the sleep he had just woken from.

Interview? Right. He had an interview for an insurance company today and he’d asked Sole to wake him up if he wasn’t out of bed by ten. “Are you alright?” He guessed his confusion was obvious.

Hancock nodded. Sole saw right through it, as usual, and moved to sit on the bed beside him, their head resting on his shoulder. “You nervous?”

“Just… a weird dream, that’s all.”

Sole hummed and brushed their hand over his arm. Briefly, his vision flashed back to his building in Goodneighbor, Sole sat beside him on the couch instead of his bed. He sucked in a deep breath and shut his eyes, trying to block out memories that didn’t belong to him. “John just how bad was that dream?” They looked up at him, their eyes widened in concern.

“Not that big of a deal, just jarring, that’s all. Don’t you worry about me.”

Sole pressed their lips together in contemplation. “Let’s go make breakfast, okay? Get your mind off things?”

“That sounds great.”

MacCready:

With a heavy breath, MacCready sat up straight in bed, throwing the blankets off of himself and standing in a panic. The world tilted around him as he stood, whirling in a circle to examine his surroundings, groping at his hip for a gun that wasn’t there. Two forms were huddled under the blankets, just beside where he had been laying. Two? He had fallen asleep next to Sole in the Dugout Inn, hadn’t he? They had sprained their ankle while they were out and about and they’d taken refuge in Diamond City. Didn’t they?

Adrenaline pumping, he moved to look out the window. Everything was shockingly clean, the sky too bright as the sun rose, the plant life too healthy and vibrant. He took a small step backwards, recoiling from the sight. Then, a sleepy voice piped up. “Robert? What are you doing up? It’s only six.”

Sole had pushed the blankets away from their face, peering out at him with squinted eyes. “Close the curtains and come back to bed.” They requested softly.

Slowly, almost defensively, MacCready stepped away from the window and walked back towards the bed, his footsteps light and muted. Sole’s eyes widened slightly at this, examining his posture and the hesitancy in his expression. “RJ, what’s going on? What’s got you so upset?” They sat up further in bed and attempted to rub the sleep away from their eyes.

“Are you hurt?” His own voice startled him.

“What?”

“Your ankle. You hurt it.”

“No, I didn’t. What’s going on with you?”

He remained silent and instead stopped, disoriented. Memories of travelling to a hotel near Nuka-World flooded back to him. Flashes of the car ride combined with the struggle of hefting Sole’s weight beside him as they made their way through the ruins of the Commonwealth towards Diamond City. He rubbed his fingertips across his forehead and looked at them in desperation, searching for an explanation. “Come here.” They requested softly.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and barely stopped himself from flinching as they reached for him. They moved the blankets away from their legs, shivering slightly at the shock of cool air, and shifted their feet. “My ankles are fine. Nothing’s wrong with me. You had a really convincing bad dream, I think.” The sincerity in their expression made his racing mind slow.

“Duncan.” He said abruptly, his eyebrows creasing. He was… where was he? He’d been in the car, but he’d also been so far away. Sick. Dying.

Sole moved the covers further back and revealed a sleeping Duncan, curled into Sole’s side, a small hand gripping their pajama shirt. The hand they hadn’t moved was pressed against his back, rising and falling with his sleeping breaths. “He’s just fine, I promise.”

MacCready nodded slowly, forcing himself to relax slowly back into the bed. Sole shifted their free hand and wound their fingers between his. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Nick:

When Nick came to it was in the chair of his office, feet propped up on a stool, a newspaper resting in his lap. There’s a cigarette in the ashtray on the table beside him and several files filled with papers he didn’t recognize scattered across the floor. Most of all, his legs were sore. His legs simply didn’t get sore, it was impossible, and that’s what clued him in that something was definitely wrong.

He picked his head up off the back of the cushioned chair and looked around the room. It wasn’t his office in Diamond City, but it had a shockingly similar layout. Nearly identical, other than the shape of the room. Wanted posters were tacked up on the wall, bearing names he vaguely recognized, along with photos of him, Sole, and Ellie. A him he didn’t recognize, a face of a man who’s memories he’d stolen.

With a start, he abruptly shifted his feet to the floor and sat up straight in the arm chair. The change wasn’t alarmingly different, more like someone had taken his reality and shifted it to the left. Slightly off in a way that was noticeable, but not enough for him to be able to immediately put a finger on it. Smoke curled through the room lazily.

The steps he took were careful as he made his way over to the wall of photographs. Sole looked quite similar, though a little less rough and worn. Their eyes were brighter with a liveliness that he didn’t often see. Ellie’s dark circles weren’t nearly as prominent, and everything was so much neater. Nick couldn’t stand to assess his own appearance, considering it was one he barely even recognized. “Knock knock.” Ellie’s voice rang out before she stepped through the doorway into the office. “Feeling sentimental, Nick?”

Thank God he recognized his own laugh when it emerged. “You could say that.” He was a professional at covering his own disorientation when he needed to.

“Hmm. I like the photo in the park the best, you and Sole look so cute there.”

He detected a teasing lilt in her tone. Whispers of those memories came back. They’d gone after solving a particularly difficult case and had a picnic, complete with fresh fruit and champagne. They didn’t get to do things like that often, as they didn’t really have free time with all the work, but he’d made sure they got a break that time. “I come bearing gifts!” Speak of the devil.

Nick turned and couldn’t help the grin he sported at their sudden appearance. Piled in the arms were a couple paper bags that they couldn’t see over the tops of. “If it’s not lottery winnings I don’t want it.” Ellie announced, still teasing.

“I’m leaving with my gifts!” Sole turned on their heels and began to leave.

He rolled his eyes and reached out, catching them by the arm and leading them further into the office, taking a few of the bags from their arms. Once their face was visible and they caught sight of him, they broke out into a wide smile. “Hi Nicky! I picked up some office supplies and dinner.”

Their cheer was contagious enough to distract him from the conflict he was fighting. Patiently, he was waiting for his reality to shift back to the right, but it simply wasn’t happening how he’d like. Instead, more memories of Sole and the office flooded back, struggling to take place of the ones he’d woken up with.

Sole began unpacking what they’d picked up for dinner, spreading the different cartons across their neat desk, the delicious smell wafting through the office. It grounded Nick a bit and gratefulness flooded through him. With a decisive expression he settled into the chair opposite their’s, waiting for his own brain to stop fighting itself and figure out who he was and where they were. “Wow. Usually I have to fight to get you away from your work and come eat.” Sole commented, pressing a hand against his shoulder as they passed to get to their chair.

Nick chuckled, shoving back the mild concern and alarm that had been threatening to rise and get the better of him at the dream he’d had. “What can I say? It’s hard to resist fantastic company.”

Ellie fake gagged behind him, drawing a loud laugh out of Sole.

#reminder: I love you guys #tumblr fix your c/p formatting or else #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 companions react #Gage #Hancock #RJ MacCready #Nick Valentine

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

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

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary: The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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