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#UNTIL THEY GET SOMEONE LIKE THAT IN CHARGE THEY ARE GONNA KEEP TRIPPING OVER THEMSELVES MAKING SHITTY CONTENT ENRAGING THE FANS FOREVER
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Challenge Of The Super Sons #7
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mizunetzu · 3 years
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can I request bakugou x male reader where femboyreader is smol, pretty quite and nice, and suprisingly are really ruthless on the battlefield and bakugou is just wondering where he got it from. Until next week bakugou meets his father's and brothers and all of them are tall and very manly men. But civil and nice. Hope you have a nice day,😊
LMAO THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE
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Bakugou x reader - My Cute Boyfriend and His Tough-Ass Family
⚠️warnings - femboy reader, if that’s a trigger?
Pronouns - male, he/him
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Bakugou didn’t know where it came from.
One minute he was small and weak, wearing a new, girly hair pin everyday and complimenting one of the girls on their newly painted nails. The next thing he knew, he was just as batshit crazy as him during hero practice.
“Eat shit and die!” Bakugou flung across the air, sending a big blast over to (Y/n’s) location. (Y/n) sped away, dodging it with his quirk. He growled.
“Go to fucking hell!”
“Like hell I would, shit-for-brains! Suck my dick!” Bakugou landed on the ground, softening the impact with a blast pointed towards the floor. He stood there, a few good feet away from (Y/n). They were both breathing heavily, glaring down each other like they wanted to absolutely murder the other.
(Y/n) let out a piercing battle cry, before charging head first towards Bakugou and bringing his arms out to tackle him. Bakugou followed suite, charging towards him like a bull with his arm outstretched to deck him in the face.
They got closer and closer, Bakugou’s flashy explosions igniting in the air while (Y/n’s) quirk began to power up. Closer, closer, until-
“Times up!”
All might yelled over the intercom, and both students skidded awkwardly to a stop. Bakugou tumbled over with an angry shout, and (Y/n) sputtered, tripping over Bakugou’s torso making him fall to the ground as well.
“Get offa’ me, crossdresser!”
“I’m not a crossdresser, spiky bitch!”
“Your hero costume is literally a fucking skirt-!”
“Alright alright, young men! The battle is over, no need to keep fighting!” All Might awkwardly chuckled from the intercom. (Y/n) pouted, and swept himself off of Bakugou. Bakugou scoffed aswell, not even looking at (Y/n) as they both walked towards the observation building.
——
“Aaah! Katsuki! I’m sorry for yelling at you during hero training today!”
(Y/n) jogged up to Bakugou, gently clutching his backpack straps and slowing down to a walk. Bakugou huffed. There he went again, that totally insane side of him that came from absolutely nowhere was gone.
“Like I care, shit-for-brains.”
“A-anyways,” (Y/n) cleared his throat. “Do you wanna study at my house today? Or just...y’know, hangout?”
(Y/n) blushed as he ended his question. Bakugou stared down at him. If he told someone this was the same person yelling insults and profanities on the battlefield while fucking shit up, they’d think he was lying.
“(Y/n’s) house?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before...”
“Sorry, did you say something? You’re not really the type to mumb-“
“I didn’t say shit, shittyass! Go die!” Bakugou yelled. (Y/n) chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house either.” (Y/n) sighed. Bakugou scoffed and shoved his hands further down his pockets. “You better make a good impression on my family, or they probably won’t let me hang out with you anymore.”
His family was probably just as fragile and dainty as him, was what Bakugou thought. He already saw the hugs and kisses and the “Hello, Mrs. and Mr. (L/n)” he’d have to choke out. He rolled his eyes.
“Whatever.”
——
“I’m home!”
A woman’s voice echoed through the house as (Y/n) and Bakugou both took off their shoes.
“Welcome back!”
“I brought my boyfriend over mom! Bakugou Katsuki-the one I was telling you about!”
He heard his mom gasp and timper into the entrance of the house, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Bakugou was right. Dainty, fragile mother; dainty, fragile (Y/n).
Bakugou cleared his throat, suppressing the gag that was about to come out.
“P-pardon the intrusion.”
“...Ehhhh? (Y/n), don’t tell me you brought one of your little dress-up friends over.” A different voice came from behind both (Y/n) and Bakugou. A young, male voice. Bakugou whipped his head around.
“Haaah?!”
“Ooooh! Feisty!”
The boy, who couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, cracked his knuckles. There was something so familiar about the way he talked.
“What’d you say to me, you extra?!”
“K-katsuki...” (Y/n) whisper-yelled, wrapping his arms around Bakugou in attempts to hold him back. The boy laughed in his face.
Just as the boy was about to say something, an older boy chopped him in the back of the neck, effectively subduing the smaller one.
“Shut up! (Y/n) said he was bringing his boyfriend over! Don’t scare him away like we do all of his other friends.”
Bakugou looked up at the older one. He looked about his age, but damn was he tall. And muscular too. The boy from before may have been at least athletic-looking, but this guy just...
“W-who the hell-?!”
“Now, now boys. Don’t need to get so physical.” A deeper, throaty voice came from down the hallway, it’s heavy footsteps growing louder and louder as it came closer. A tall, well built man came through the hall, crossing his arms. You could clearly see his muscles bulge through his office shirt. “Did you all come back from school? Welcome back.”
All three boys chorused out a string of hellos. Bakugou looked from who he assumed was the dad, then the two boys, than (Y/n).
There was no way in hell they were related.
“Are-“ Bakugou croaked. “Are you adopted or something?!”
“Katsuki!”
His mother laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. (Y/n’s) mother was the only one who Bakugou would assume was, well, his mother. But these...men?
“You’re probably the only person who didn’t go running once they saw these boys in our house, Katsuki. A lot of (Y/n’s) little friends go running because Natsu teases them too much or Kaito and his father scares them off.”
“This one’s different, mom!” (Y/n) intertwined his hands with Bakugou’s. “Sometimes I yell and get all bwaaah during training-but he doesn’t mind!”
“Oh, well that’s good,” (Y/n’s) father ran a hand through his hair. “That explains why he hasn’t ran off the moment we walked in.”
Bakugou blinked. (Y/n) leaned in close. “Trust me, it happened before.”
(Y/n) timpered off to greet his brothers. Bakugou looked between all 3 boys. Despite how built and tall these testosterone-soaked males were, the way they talked and carried themselves gave off the same energy (Y/n) did during hero training. Was that where he got it? From these...men?
(Y/n) was forced into a headlock, his brother laughing scrubbing at his forehead as (Y/n) groaned. He thrashed around, albeit laughing, and tried to pry off his brothers hands.
“Come on-I thought you were training to be a hero! Where’s your muscles, huh?”
“I could easily throw you into the sun, don’t start. You’re just jealous I look better in skirt than you do.”
“Bullshit! I’m sexy as fuck!” His grip was temporarily loosened, giving (Y/n) the opportunity to slip out. “It’s not my fault none of your skirts fit me!”
“...But you know who it would fit?” (Y/n’s) other brother, the middle schooler, turned mischievously towards Bakugou.
“Hell no.”
——
“I’m going to fucking murder you.”
“Hey, now. That’s not very hero-like.”
“Yeah Katsuki! Not very heroic of you.”
“Murder is no good. You’ll get (Y/n)-nii’s dress dirty.”
Bakugou shook with anger as he stood in (Y/n’s) room. He sported a pink, frilly, strawberry-pink dress, that had small strawberries littered around it and stopped below his knees. His muscles peeked through the soft thin material of the dress, and the way he stood with his legs spread apart angrily was hidden under the layers of pink.
“Oh! Oh! Wait!” (Y/n) stepped into his closet with an excited smile. After a few seconds of rustling and shoving away hangers, (Y/n) popped back out with a matching dress on. His dress, however, had a baby blue tint with small blueberries scattered across the fabric.
(Y/n) did a little twirl. “Don’t I look pretty, Katsuki?”
Bakugou, crossed his arms, doing whatever it took to suppress the blush growing on his face. “Sure...whatever.”
(Y/n) happily stood next to Bakugou, smoothing out the crinkles in his blueberry dress and grabbing hold of Bakugou’s hand. “Tada~! We match~”
“You guys look like the strawberry and blueberry milk boxes I buy from vending machines at school.”
“Haah?!” (Y/n) gripped Bakugou’s hand harder. “What’d you say?!”
Bakugou stole a glance at (Y/n’s) angry face. Not gonna lie, he thought it was a bit attractive when he looked like he was gonna beat up his own brother in a frilly blue dress. He pursed his lips.
These guys taught (Y/n) well. If (Y/n) wasn’t as intense as he was during hero work, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with him, not the same way he is right now, at least. He felt sorta glad his family wasn’t a soft, fragile family of extras. Bakugou closed his eyes, and smirked.
“Yeah! The fuck’d you say to us, you lil punks?!”
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bunnyywritings · 3 years
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bubbly s/o opens up about trauma pt. 1
bakugou katsuki & shouto todoroki x gn!reader
word count: 1.8k
requested by anon: Katsu, Sho, Izu, and Eiji headcanons to their bubbly, and sweet crush, and close friend, opening up to them about being abused by their parents growing up? They've gotten therapy and are living with their Grandparents but sometimes they get upset when someone brings up parents or asks about the scars from abuse. They tell them they shared this with them because they refused to lie to them. They hug him close, thanking him for being a good friend. -Morp
[a/n: i hope you don’t mind that I’m doing it in parts anon! i ended up doing scenarios for each one, i'm a bit rusty so i apologize if this isn't very well done. you can read part 2 [ here ] ,thank you for requesting sweet heart! here you go! - yours truly, bunny -`ღ´- ]
TW: mentions of parental abuse & scars, nothing explicit but implied
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To an extent, he always knew. Maybe not the specifics, but whenever you were alone and thought no one was paying any attention, you’d let your guard down. The metaphorical sparkle in your eyes would dim, your shoulders would slump as if you were taking a break. Then someone would approach and in the blink of an eye, the sparkle was back and the familiar grin on your lips was present once again. Despite what others may think, Bakugou was a good friend.
He worried about you. A lot.
That may be due to the fact that he has a huge crush on you, but it was unlikely. He values your friendship so much. He’d rather have you as a friend than anything else, really. That was mainly his insecurity talking though. He just thought he wasn’t good enough for you. No one was, really. But that’s besides the point.
He had never explicitly said anything about his feelings for you but he didn’t need to. It was quite clear through his actions. Well...clear to everyone but you, that is. Even Aizawa had caught on. And he couldn’t care less about his students’ love lives. He’s had his fill of teenage angst and drama.
During training, he’d always make sure your water bottle was full or during lunch he’d keep an eye out and make sure you were eating. Sometimes he’d even give you extra pieces of meat from his plate, or if he had veggies he knows you like, he’d wordlessly place them into your rice bowl.
Now this wasn’t one sided at all. You also had your ways of looking out for him.
If you were doing a convenience store run with Sero and you saw the particular snack that Bakugou likes, you’d instantly grab a few. For his birthday, you had gotten him custom earplugs for quirk training. It had been after you and him were paired to spar against each other, he always insisted on not holding back against you out of respect, and you had experienced one of his full blown attacks head-on. Your ears were ringing for about half an hour before you could somewhat hear again, and even then, everything was a bit muffled.
Needless to say, you were worried about his hearing
He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he unwrapped the box. Scolding you for wasting money on something he had no use for.
He always uses them though. Especially when he’s doing stamina training, and it’s explosion after explosion.
Anyways. He notices your strange behavior, one day. You stopped trying to keep up the façade and you were sort of gloomy all day. He was absolutely pissed that no one had noticed the change, and he’d yell at them later for it, but he kept his cool and waited until he could be alone with you.
It had been around 8pm, just an hour before his bedtime, when he made some tea for the both of you and carried it up to your dorm room. He paused in front of your door, looking down at both his hands, a mug in each one, then looking at the door handle. Realizing he won't be able to physically open the door by himself, he awkwardly bumped the door with his elbow.
“Hey idiot, it’s me. Open the door.” He grumbled quietly, frowning when you hadn’t responded. Before he could repeat himself a little more aggressively, the muffled sound of your sniffling made his stomach drop. Panic rising throughout his body as he made up worst case scenarios in his head.
“(Y/n), seriously. Is everything okay?” All attempts to sound calm failed as his voice betrayed him, trembling the slightest bit.
On the other side of the door, you started to panic. Furiously wiping any evidence of tears or snot from your face before you slumped over to the door, turning the lock and tugging it open to reveal a frowning Bakugou. He wasn’t upset, he was worried. It was evident in his red irises.
“Here. Drink it before it gets cold.” He handed you a mug before walking past you and into your room. He admired the decor everytime he was in there, no matter how many times he had seen it already, it never failed to make his heart warm. You had a wall full of pictures of yourself with your friends. There were a few solo photos of your friends as well. Most were candid shots, there were a fair few of him.
It always reminded him that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. You cherished those candid photos because in your eyes, when your friends were carefree and themselves, no poses, no facade, that’s when they were their most beautiful.
He took a seat on your bed and patted the space beside him. Nudging the door shut, you made your way over and got comfortable.
“What’s up with you today? You seemed...not yourself.”
You didn’t respond, opting to take a sip of your tea. He knew there was something up and he wasn’t gonna push you. So he leaned back and got comfortable, waiting until you were ready. It was a solid three minutes of silence before you took a deep breath.
“I-I don’t want to lie to you, Katsuki. It just wouldn’t be fair so uhh, yeah. Here goes.” He could tell that this was overwhelming for you so, wordlessly, he put down his mug and held his hand out to you and you grasped it, like it was a lifeline.
And you told him.
You told him about the abuse from your own parents. He felt his blood boil as you showed him a few scars inflicted by your parents’ quirks. You explained that it was the anniversary of the day you ran away and went to live with your grandparents, and how you had been seeing a therapist on the regular since then.
It pained him to see you struggle through the tears, hiccuping a few times as you attempted to catch your breath. You didn’t even have to say it but he could see it, it was an all too familiar feeling to him. He tugged you to him, letting go of your hand and pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping you up in a warmth that made the stinging tears return.
“You know, this doesn’t make me think less of you. You’re not weak. Those bastards don’t realize how bad they screwed up. You’re strong, and they’re gonna regret every goddamn choice they’ve made when they see how far you’ll go.”
“Thank you.” You whimpered as you gave in to the new wave of tears, hooking your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you…”
If anyone asks, no...he wasn’t crying. (He was though.)
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If anyone was familiar with the signs of abuse, it was him. 
It hurt him so much knowing that you had gone through what he did, maybe not to the same extreme but you had experienced it nonetheless. 
He admired you though. Despite whatever happened to you, you were always bright. Always in a good mood and always choosing to see the good in people. He knows that he didn’t have the strength to do that. Maybe eventually, but not so soon. He had never wanted to pry. You guys were friends, practically best friends and he trusted that you’d tell him when you were ready. 
To his knowledge, no one knew. No one mentioned the way you’d flinch around sudden movements or when someone raised their voice. Honestly, it was a wonder that you had even befriended Iida. He was the epitome of loud and sudden. Always waving his arms around at the randomest times and always shouting to chastise someone for breaking a rule. 
He noticed that you tended to cover up your torso often. Never really wearing anything more revealing than a normal t-shirt. Even on the class trip to the beach, you insisted on staying covered up. No one questioned it, chalking it up to insecurity. Even during training when everyone had to wear their gym uniform, while others undid the top part and wrapped it around their waist, being clad in a tank top or sports bra, you had always kept it on. Even when it was extremely hot. More often than not, he found himself resting his palm against your forehead to cool you off. 
It hadn’t been very hot, but Aizawa decided to run everyone ragged with combat training, so everyone was partnered up. Todoroki had been partnered with Denki and you had been paired up with Eijirou.
As he sat with his classmates, watching the two of you spar, he was quite impressed. Not that he doubted your skill but both fighting styles were drastically different. Eijirou and his quirk relied on close combat while your quirk worked best with long-range. He could see the frustration on your face when Eijirou kept charging towards you and engaging in hand to hand.
As the fight went on, Kirishima had hardened his forearm and hand, kinda like a makeshift blade and as he took you down, he had accidentally cut the top of your gym uniform. As the dust settled and the both of you got up, the tear in your clothes allowed the whole class to see your back and shoulders, skin littered with scars. All were different in size, color, severity, etc. 
Everyone was stunned silent, not having expected anything like this. 
“(Y/n)...what happened?” You could feel the breeze on your back and the pity in Kirishima’s eyes made you angry.
Everyone suddenly snapped into realization. Various questions of; ‘who did that to you?’, ‘where did those come from?’ and whatnot were shot at you from different directions. He could see you slowly being overwhelmed by everything. His heart dropped as he made eye contact with you, your eyes tired and filled with tears. 
“That’s ENOUGH!” Everyone froze and looked at Todoroki with wide eyes, his voice booming.
Sensing the tension starting to rise, Aizawa sighed. 
“Alright everyone settle down. Training is over, get back to class. (Y/n). A word.” 
Reluctantly, Todoroki followed the boys into the locker room and changed into his school uniform.  When everyone was out and he returned outside to the training grounds, you and Aizawa weren’t there so he had gone back to the locker rooms. He knocked and called out to you. 
“Can I come in?” He heard a meek ‘yeah.’ So he carefully made his way inside. 
There you were, dressed in your school uniform and sat on a bench with your face buried in your hands, shoulders shaking. 
“(Y/n)...” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, he winced when you looked up at him. IIt ached him to see your beautiful eyes tainted by tears. 
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner Sho…” Your bottom lip quivered. 
“Please, don’t apologize.” He opened his arms. You stood up and basically collapsed into them, clutching onto the back of his blazer. “Just always remember that I may understand more than anyone else will. I’ll never judge you, you know that right?” 
“I know…It’s just, ugh-” You pulled away and wiped the tears from your face. “I don’t want anyone to change how they look at me because of what my parents did to me and when everyone saw, and they were asking all of their questions, their eyes...they were just full of pity.” 
“Then look into mine.”
And when you did, you didn’t see pity. 
You saw admiration. You saw belonging. Love. Understanding. 
“Nothing will ever change with me, (Y/n).” He pressed his forehead against yours, “I will always be here for you.” 
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The Magic Reveal fic we deserve, in which Merlin gets as angry as he deserves to get:
Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5
Don’t get me wrong I LOVE a magic reveal with a Merlin who feels bad about lying. I love a reveal with Arthur being furious and Merlin crying but then they talk it out and all is well. I think it's pretty in-character for Merlin to want to see Arthur come to his own conclusions about magic, without being influenced by Merlin’s opinions
BUT I also kinda wanna see Merlin get angry? Like, why should he feel bad about hiding himself in a kingdom where "himself" gets him nothing but a pyre?? Yeah, he and Arthur are close, but unless you've lived with a secret like that (one that will get you shunned, hated, or even killed) then, and I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, it doesn't matter How Close you are with someone, how certain you are that they would never hurt you, or care either way, it will almost ALWAYS be scary to tell them. So like. Let Merlin get angry:
I'd say Arthur has been king for maybe a year at this point. He's still a new monarch, still a lot on his plate, BUT also still plenty of time for him to have repealed the ban on magic, or at least started working on it.
But he hasn't.
Granted he hasn't executed anyone in a while (banishments and prison time are the norm, executions are only used nowadays for high treason). BUT the law still remains, it's still technically punishable by death, to be a sorcerer.
Arthur and Merlin have little hunting trips, when Arthur is getting too stressed and losing too much sleep, when he trains the knights too hard and snaps at even Gaius, Merlin (or sometimes even Leon, if they're both being grumpy arseholes) insists that they leave the city for a day or more, to go hunting.
The council have been told it's so the King can keep up with his fitness, can keep familiar with his lands, and keep his skills sharp (he only has enough time to train with the knights a couple times a week nowadays, a far cry from the several hours he used to do every morning without fail), and that keeps them satisfied.
The Gang (the Knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana (she's good in this because that's what I want let me have this)) know the truth, that sometimes the two of them just need a few days to goof off and be themselves, to finally get some time to relax. They'll grab a couple hares and maybe a stag on the way back if they can, so they can at least pretend that's what they've been doing the whole time.
These trips can last anywhere between a day, to two weeks, and Arthur leaves the same set of instructions with the council and the knights every time:
"The safety of Camelot’s people is your highest priority. I leave Sir Leon in charge of everything to do with the knights, patrol, and should any form of conflict arise. If there is an emergency, you are to consult the Inner Council (I don’t know if that's a thing but let's say it is; its The Gang), and send a squire on horseback to fetch me immediately. There's one boy in the troupe who always manages to track me the down the quickest, so make sure he's the one sent, Sir Leon knows who I speak of."
(He's improved over the years, but Arthur is still very... cagey, when it comes to compliments, and his trust. Leon will never mention it, but the fact that Arthur leaves the safety of the kingdom to him, without hesitation or worry, makes him feel greatly honoured. That is the highest form of trust Arthur is capable of giving.)
~
ANYWAY I feel like most of this has just been backstory so let's get into it:
Normally it's Merlin or Leon who demand that the trip needs to happen.
This time
It's Arthur.
Arthur has tried to ignore it (he's trying to get better but he's not great with emotions and stuff, the big dummy) but Merlin has been in a sour mood for weeks now. He's been quiet and withdrawn, snappy, and has been avoiding Arthur whenever possible.
At first it was easy to ignore, when it started a few months ago it was barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know the two of them Very Well, but in the last few weeks it's become a problem.
Arthur reckons a trip might do them some good. Merlin can relax, and will either get over whatever is bothering him, or be comfortable enough to talk to Arthur about it.
So they head out. Merlin doesn't seem too happy about the trip but he doesn’t complain.
(Odd in itself, if Merlin is unhappy about something he usually makes it known.)
The first couple of days are... odd, to say the least. It seems that every time Arthur notices Merlin relax, he quickly tightens up again. One short, joking conversation is followed by a few more hours of painful, awkward silence.
Arthur comes to the daunting realisation, that if he wants to help is friend (and the love of his life but like... baby blondie has hardly reached that conclusion himself, he might need a bit more time on that) is to confront it head on.
So they're settling down in the evening. The fire is roaring, the horses have been fed and watered, dinner has been eaten, and the two of them are sat at opposite ends of the fire (Very Odd, they're usually glued at the hip, especially when it's just the two of them).
Arthur looks at his friend properly for the first times in a while and he Does Not Like what he sees.
Merlin is visibly exhausted, big bags under his eyes, and his skin paler than normal, scowling ever so slightly into the fire. Shoulders tense, and hands gripping each other until the skin on his knuckles is white. And despite all that, Arthur thinks that Merlin looks more sad, than angry.
Maybe Merlin notices Arthur's staring, they hold eye contact for a little while before Merlin becomes sort of... resigned?? To the fact that he's gonna have to have this conversation whether he wants it or not? He goes to say something but before he can, Arthur interrupts him:
"So Merlin. How do you think I'm doing so far?"
(Which is a stupid thing to say, really. But Arthur is, as we've already established, extremely emotionally constipated, and he figures that finding out what's wrong with Merlin indirectly, and then subtly fixing it behind his back, is a far better idea than asking him to his face.)
Merlin clenches his jaw and looks away it this, his reply and his body language clearly sending different messages:
"You know what I think. You're going to be a great king."
Arthur thinks : "(Going to be? I've been king for a year, there's been no war and far fewer attempts on my life than when I was a prince. There's been a good harvest, all diplomatic meetings have gone well, and more peace treaties, and trade agreements, have been signed in the last twelve months, than in the ten years before it. I know I can still do better but... does Merlin not think I'm good?")
Arthur says : "Going to be? I think I'm a pretty great King already if I do say so myself."
"Then why ask? Besides. There are a few things you haven't done."
Merlin's tone is biting, even though he tries to force it out casually. Arthur notices. ”There are a few things you haven't done”... that means something specific.
"Hmm. I suppose. What things did you have in mind then, Merlin?"
Arthur also tries to sound casual, but the question comes out very pointed
Merlin desperately doesn't want to say it out loud, in fear of revealing too much of himself, so he goes with the vague answer of:
"Promises were made. I guess I just figured you weren't the type to break them, that's all. I'm sure you'll get there in time."
Merlin sounds sort of hopeful there. But the sort of hope that he's been living with for years, the sort of hope that has a layer of sadness and resignation laying over the the top like a tablecloth.
Arthur notices:
"Promises?" He doesn’t want to talk too much or too loudly, in fear that Merlin realises that he's speaking openly and clams up again.
Arthur has realised, over the last year or two, that despite their closeness, despite the endless conversations they seem to have, he doesn't really know all that much about Merlin. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time picking herbs, or in the tavern, as he and Gaius would claim. He doesn't know his favourite colour, or season, or holiday. He doesn't know when abouts his birthday is, or what he likes eating. He doesn't know much about his childhood, he's never mentioned his father.
(Despite all this, he's still in love with the idiot, but again, a revelation for another time.)
Merlin responds "To the druids. You promised they would be welcomed, that magic would return. I know your opinions on magic-"
(The manservant visibly shuffles at this, uncomfortable.)
"-but I figured a promise is a promise. Keeping your word had always seemed so important to you. Before."
Arthur notices the past tense. Like Merlin doesn’t believe that Arthur holds importance to his word anymore:
"I'm not my father Merlin. There have been no executions just for the sake of it since I took the crown."
Merlin’s reply comes quickly, in a harsh tone:
"Yes I know that. But your fathers law still remains. It's technically still punishable by execution just to exist as a sorcerer in your kingdom."
(Arthur notices the thinly veiled disgust in Merlin's voice when he mentions Uther. Arthur knew that Merlin disliked the previous king, but he didn’t think he hated him that much.)
Merlin is getting more and more visibly frustrated at this point. Both at Arthur, and the topic of conversation, but also at himself, for letting himself become so worked up over something he'd sworn to keep Arthur away from.
"You really didn't like my Father did you Merlin?" He says it with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.
(This is NOT a conversation that should be light and casual, his friend is in pain, and revealing more of himself than he ever had before, this should be serious. But Arthur isn't quite sure how to do that, so inappropriately light and casual is what he goes for.)
Merlin responds with a quiet, but forceful:
"I hated him. I still do. He's your father, I know that you're not him, and I know you can't help your heritage. But I'll never forgive Uther for what he did. And I'm not angry that he's...gone."
Arthur's very much taken aback at that. He knows everyone has... strong opinions on Uther, but they've never voiced it in front of him.
"Why?? I mean I know he put you in the stocks a couple of times, but so have I to be fair. Why do you hate him so much?"
(This is the point Merlin gets angry. Or angrier. This is when he stops trying to hide it, stops trying to hold it in. Arthur hadn't gotten angry at Merlin for talking about Uther in such a way, he was just curious. Merlin had been planning on telling him the truth at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now, with no one else around, and Arthur in a goodish mood.)
Merlin jumps up, clenching his fists and staring Arthur in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, breathing deeply.
Arthur is taken even further aback at Merlin's sudden unwillingness to hide his true reaction to the topic at hand, but he doesn't say anything, and just waits for Merlin’s response
"Why?? Why do I hate him? Maybe because he was blinded fear and selfish hatred."
Merlin stops and looks away, but doesn't sit down, still tense.
I imagine he's waiting for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t, opting to wait for Merlin to carry on himself, unwilling to remind Merlin exactly who he was talking to, and about what.
After a few moments of silence, Merlin continues, getting angrier with each word as he paces:
"Your father, the Great King Uther, murdered thousands of people. He committed genocide, because he insisted on blaming other people for his own mistakes. He didn't pay attention to the fine print, and killed his own wife and in return, he executes THOUSANDS of MY people. Just for daring to exist. He was so full of hatred, but he, of course, was infallible so it MUST have been someone else's fault. He was incapable of admitting his own mistakes and the injustice that went unpunished is indescribable, he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and I'll never forgive him."
(Arthur knows the truth about what happened to his Ma in this story, I don’t know how, he just does. And it's a topic of conversation he avoids like the plague.)
At the end of his little outburst, Merlin stills. He is shaking as he glares at the floor, and is more furious than Arthur has ever seen him before.
The King notices the little slip up.
"Your people?" He says, so quietly it's a wonder Merlin hears it.
Merlin freezes at this, at the realisation that there's no real way he can play this off. He was planning on telling him at some point anyway. They're miles away from the city in the middle of a large, barely tamed forest. If he needs to run for his life, he could get away easily enough.
"Yes Arthur. My people. You really should've let me speak first."
Arthur is reminded of the fact that Merlin had opened his mouth to say something, before he'd interrupted him at the beginning of the conversation. It felt like it was hours ago now, but it was really only a few minutes.
The King isn’t nearly as shocked as he thinks he should be. He knew there was something odd and secretive about Merlin, and he'd considered that he might have magic in the early days, but that hadn't been a genuine consideration for years.
He wants to be angry, and selfish, and furious at Merlin for lying to him all this time. But after hearing Merlin’s little speech, does he really have any right to? 
Yes, Arthur hadn't executed any sorcerers, but he also hadn't changed the law. He hadn't stood up to his father and he certainly hadn't tried to stop the executions before he was King himself. Can he really blame Merlin? For being scared? For being angry?
"You're a sorcerer." It's not a question. It's a statement. In his mind he knows the truth, but it needs to be confirmed, out loud, by Merlin himself, before they can move the conversation on.
"Yes."
And that's all he says. Arthur waits. And when he's tired of waiting, when he realises that Merlin isn't just gonna carry on talking this time, he speaks up:
"And?"
"And what, Arthur? What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I lied? Yes, I feel bad for lying to you, but I'll never apologise for protecting myself in a kingdom that would see me burn. And I would do it again in a heartbeat"
Arthur nods. He's tense, but he notices that he isn't scared and he wonders why, after all, as far as he was aware magic had only (almost only) caused him pain and fear. 
(In the back of his mind he knows why he's not scared. Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body, and he's met the druids, he knows that some magic users are peaceful.)
He looks up at Merlin to see him staring at him, a sort of challenging look on his face, like he was daring Arthur to prove him right. Daring him to be selfish, and angry, and just like his father.
But when Arthur looks deeper. Really Looks at Merlin. He sees the fear, Arthur has no doubt in his mind that Merlin could escape, or even fight him off, now, if he needed to. But Merlin is scared.
If that wasn't enough to break Arthur's heart, the quick glance that Merlin throws to the space a few feet from Arthur's side, is.
Arthur looks over slowly, eyebrows furrowed, to see what Merlin glanced at so fearfully. His heart shatters when he realises what it is. Arthurs sword, sat underneath his bag, just out of his reach. Merlin thinks Arthur is going to kill him. Merlin is scared. Of Arthur.
Arthur looks back at Merlin, disbelief and gut wrenching sadness on his face. He resists the urge to jump up (knowing it would just panic Merlin) as he speaks, trying to keep his tone calming, but it comes out rushed and desperate anyway:
"I'm not going to hurt you Merlin, I swear. I'm...sorry, if my actions and words have led you to believe that I would EVER see any harm come to you."
It's over the last minute, the anger and fear from Merlin, that forces Arthur to realise the legacy he's dealing with. That Uther had done so much damage, had struck so much fear into Merlin, that it didn't matter how close they were. Any subtle, deliberate ignorance of the law wasn’t enough. Any small compliments, or defence of Merlin, wasn't enough.
As long as the law remained, as long as Arthur left his fathers legacy intact, with not even a small attempt to dismantle it, Merlin would be scared of him.
Merlin relaxes only slightly at Arthur's words, gulps, and glances once more at the sword before sitting down again. He’s still tense as he stares into the fire once more.
"All these years you've been putting your life at risk, to stay at my side. You could've quit at any time. You could've stayed in the relative safety of Ealdor, but you didn't. Why? I want to know everything Merlin. You... you mean a great deal to me, and it pains me to see you in fear. And I know it's no one’s fault but my own, and I want to fix it. So the whole story, from the beginning, I want to know."
It's Merlin’s turn to be taken aback now. In his mind, everything he's said and done in the last few minutes should be making Arthur angry. The disrespect of Uther, the tone of voice he had taken, the shouting. All of that even before the admittance of his greatest secret. But still Arthur wasn't angry, he was confused, and maybe hadn't quite processed it yet, but mostly he was just sad, sad that Merlin had to be angry on his own. Sad that Merlin had to be fearful on his own.
So he does. He starts at the beginning. His mother sending him to Camelot so Gaius could train him. Saving Arthurs life that first banquet. Saving his life again a few days later. And again. And again. And again
He talks about all the small insignificant magicks he did: cheating at dice games and keeping Arthur's bath water warm and making sure the fire stays lit through the night and helping the knights sleep when they're out and about.
He talks about all the big magicks he did: killing Nimueh and being the last Dragon-Lord and Balinor being his father, and all the great battles he had won and all the times he'd saved Arthur when Arthur hadn't even realised he'd been in danger.
He talks about everything in between. About every lucky fallen branch and every lucky rockslide and every lucky solution that wouldn't have worked without Merlin... nudging it in the right direction.
He talks and talks and talks until his throat is sore. And Arthur stays silent, unwilling to interrupt, listening intently and saving any questions and queries until the end.
After an hour or so, Merlin hesitates, but Arthur can tell that there's something else. Something he's not saying. Something that in Merlin's mind, is the scariest truth of all. So he stays silent, and waits for Merlin to continue:
"The old man that you think killed your father. Dragoon, the sorcerer who kept popping up but was never in the same room as me? That was me, in disguise."
He looks nervous at this and looks up at Arthur. Before, he'd been explaining everything with a blank but resolute look on his face, still staring into the fire (that hadn't been fed in well over an hour, but was still going strong).
Arthur just looks surprised, he'd never considered that Dragoon had been anyone but himself.
"I tried Arthur. I may have hated your father but I tried to save him. But the pendant around his neck stopped it from working and healing magic has never been my strong point anyway. I really did try."
Arthur nods at this. He figured there had been no reason for the old sorcerer to kill his father, and after consulting Gaius and realising the truth about the pendant, he didn't blame him. Though he never told anyone, not even Merlin, why would he? His manservant had never even met the guy.
"I know. I'm sorry, it can’t have been easy, thinking I blamed you for his death all these months. I'm sorry Merlin."
Merlin looks surprised but quietly grateful. Over the course of the last hour of explanation he had slowly become more and more relaxed, realising that Arthur really meant it when he said he wasn't going to hurt him, and just wanted the truth.
Merlin was still scared, and a big part of him still believed he'd probably be banished at the least at the end of this conversation. But it still felt good to get it off his chest.
"But you still haven't answered my question. Why? We didn't know each all that well those first few weeks. Months even. We practically hated each other at the beginning. But you stayed anyway. Despite hating me and despite being in constant danger. Why?"
Merlin once again hesitates at this. He tried his best but even after all these years, he's not quite sure how to navigate conversations about destiny, especially his own, and especially how it's tied so intrinsically with Arthur’s.
Instead he says:
"What do you know about Emrys?" He really needs a starting reference for this part of the conversation, and at this point, the best way to get it is to ask directly.
Arthur goes to question why, but Merlin has been nothing but honest and straight forward with him, so he trusts that it’s important, and answers truthfully:
"Not much. A few Druids have mentioned him to me before. Apparently they've been seeing him in prophetic dreams for centuries, the Druids have quite a few "seers" in their ranks. He's meant to be some great sorcerer, whose destiny it is to bring Magic and peace to Albion, with some King or other at his side. I never payed much attention to it, I hardly believe in visions of the future."
Merlin nods at that:
"You've got most of it. Emrys is meant to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present, and future. When Uther started culling sorcerers, an astronomical amount of magic was poured back into the earth all at once. The Triple Goddess took that magic and put it all in one place, in one unborn baby, in the hope that said baby would grow into his power, and restore balance and compassion to the world. The Druids call him Emrys but it's just a title, like King, or Sir, not his real name. He, and the Once and Future King, are meant to rule with the support of one another, uniting all of Albion under the King’s rule, and bringing magic back into the land. Emrys and the Forever King, two sides of the same coin, their destinies interwoven."
Merlin goes silent at that, and Arthur thinks he knows where this is going, but he Needs the confirmation:
"What's that got to do with anything?" is quietly muttered.
"You're the Forever King Arthur. And I am Emrys. Though it's weird enough when the druids call me that so just... let's stick with Merlin alright?"
"All those times you said I would be a great King, all those times you had unfailing faith in me, was because of destiny?"
Arthur tries not so sound hurt, but he’s never cared for, or believed, in destiny. Up until now he'd thought Merlin had had faith in him as Arthur, his friend, not as some prophetic Once and Future King that Arthur was afraid he would never be.
"At first, sure. I was angry, that my destiny had been decided for me. That I couldn't just ignore it because if I did then the world would never know peace. I never asked for that responsibility I just wanted... I just wanted to keep my mother safe. I wanted to learn how to be a physician and use my magic to help and entertain and brighten the world. Just a little bit. And suddenly I had this big important role to play. I hated it. But I did it anyway, kept you safe. And then I got to know you as a person and you weren't your father. You Love Camelot, you Love your people, you're a good man who does everything in his power to help those around him, even if they don't deserve it sometimes. And suddenly, having my destiny be to help you to greatness... well, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe it was your destiny to be that Great King from prophecy, because you were already a good man."
Arthur is speechless at that. Tears gather in his eyes but neither of them mention it and he doesn't let them fall. Merlin had been almost as nice as that in the past, but never so fully, and with the weight of the truth behind it, it seemed much more meaningful.
Merlin gives him a sad smile before he continues:
"I'm your servant until the day I die Arthur. I have faith that one day, you'll do the right thing."
Arthur suddenly remember the whole point of this conversation. That Merlin was upset and angry that he hadn't repealed the ban on magic yet, that Merlin was still waiting on him. Waiting on him to do the right thing. Waiting on him to fulfil his destiny.
~
Maybe they head straight home? Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers the next morning to find him already up and pacing, making a start on the repeal?
Maybe Arthur demands they go to the closest Druid settlement so he can consult them on how he should go about it? Merlin’s knowledge of magic is great and all, but neither of them were alive before the purge, neither know how it would work practically.
All I know, is whenever Merlin first comes across Arthur working on the repeal, determination in his eyes, he cries a little. That everything he sacrificed is finally paying off.
I also know, that the first time Arthur timidly asks Merlin to show him something magical (maybe that's straight after this tiring conversation, or maybe its days later, back in the safety of Arthur's locked chambers) Merlin cries even harder, Arthur is still scared of magic, how could he not be. But he loves and trusts Merlin more than anything in this world, and he wants to learn to not be scared anymore.
~
THIS IS COMPLETED!!
All 5 parts have been posted:)
If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know✌
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melonsap · 3 years
Text
Missing Links: A New Hyrule
This story has a prequel called Secrets in the Breeze! Go check it out!
My Missing Links
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Wind took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the breeze as blew by. It had been awhile since he'd smelled salt in the air.
It was good to be back near the ocean.
One by one, the other heroes came through the portal, which shut behind them with a blue flash. Hyrule looked at Wind curiously. "Do...you recognize this place?"
"Nope!" Wind spun around with a bright smile. "But we’re near the sea! That’s always a good sign!”
“I beg to differ,” Legend muttered, taking note of his surroundings.
It wasn’t much. They stood atop a cliff that overlooked the sea-bordering countryside, with a sparse collection of villages tucked into the nooks of the nation. But what caught the pink-haired hero’s attention most was the network of golden roads that stretched across the land, leading towards a grand tower far inland.
In the shadow of the massive building stood a castle; one the young man immediately recognized, which threw the whole tower into proportion.
It was...big.
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“So, here’s the plan.”
The redheaded man slapped a map against a tree, stabbing it through with his hairpin to keep it in place. He snapped his fingers, and the circuits of his prosthetic hand lit up in timeshift blue. “We came in here,” he said, drawing a glowing X over a place in the north of the Forest Realm. “The loser that stole my control slate ran off, and we got lost chasing him. So now we’re down here.” He circled Whittleton Village.
Fox watched the hero explain with wide eyes, fixated on his glowing fingertips.
“The guy could be anywhere,” he continued. “HOWEVER, if he knows how to calibrate it right, he probably has a map updated on the slate. And if he knows what the slate does, which he has to in order to pull a stunt like he did twice in a row, then he’d head for Hyrule Castle.” Taps drew an arrow towards the castle and tower in the distance. “We’ve already lost a day just getting out of Lost Woods. He’s probably way ahead of us if we travel on foot. But if we use one of the minecart guardians people drive around here...” He traced his finger along the minecart tracks that stretched across the land. “We can probably beat him there, as long as we catch one within the next couple hours.”
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He spun to face his companion, clicking the drawing rune off. “Any questions?
Fox’s hand shot in the air. “Mr. Link? How does your arm work?”
Taps gave him a flat look. “Timeshift-powered output core.” He gave his prosthetic a solid pat. “Sheikah tech. Not what we were talking about. Any relevant questions?”
“...Well...” Fox rubbed the back of his head. “The...guardian things...they take passengers, right?” He looked at the hero with big eyes. “So, don’t they charge rupees?”
Taps paused. He hadn’t considered that. “...We can stow away.”
“Absolutely not.” The Hytopian put his hands on his hips sternly. “These people have lives to live outside of us. It’s wrong to steal labor from them.”
“They’re not GONNA have lives to live if this timeline gets screwed with by my slate!”
“Then we should get money fast, shouldn’t we?”
Taps’ eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly bring my wallet with me when I got yanked through time and space. You plan on selling your extra clothes for it?”
Fox gasped in horror, hugging his bulky luggage. “Never!”
“Well then. Not that big a problem, is it?”
Fox bit his lip. “...Give me one hour,” he finally said. “If I can’t earn us enough rupees for a trip by then, then we can talk about stowing away.”
Taps rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held up a metal finger. “You’ve got one hour.”
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Legend walked along the strange track, examining the golden triangles beneath his feet as he followed the rails. The power in them tugged at his attention, no matter how hard he tried to look away.
What were they?
“Hey.” An elbow dug into his shoulder. “Hyrule to Link, are you there?”
Legend side-eyed the offender crossly. “No.”
“Well then,” Warriors replied, smirking. “I guess that means I get your share of lunch.”
“You touch my apple pie and you find out exactly what my medallions do.”
“Ouch. Touchy.” He followed Legend’s line of sight down to the ground. “Must be an interesting road.”
Legend nodded, looking back at the tracks. “They’re...powerful,” he said, gesturing to them. “They radiate magic, and they feel...Hylian. Like they’re alive.”
Twilight shuddered. “I certainly hope they’re not,” he said, giving Epona a pat. “The last thing I want to worry about is living roads.”
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
The Chain jumped in unison at the loud sound, attention forcefully torn from the Spirit Tracks at their feet.
Off in the distance, blurred by a shimmer of heat, a steam-powered machine charged down the tracks at breakneck speed. With a frown, Twilight whipped out his Hawkeye mask to get a better look.
It was HUGE; it had to be at least as tall as three horses standing on top of each other. As it rounded the bend and headed towards them, he got a good look at its segments—a house, a tray, and a cannon?
Twilight squinted, adjusting the mask’s scope. “What in Farore’s name...”
“What is it?” Time asked, raising an eyebrow.
“...Some kind of mechanical caravan.” Twilight concluded after a moment of thought, lowering the mask. “And it’s not stopping. We should move.”
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! 
“NOW.”
Quickly, the group got off the tracks, giving them a WIDE distance.
As the steam-powered beast approached, it let out a shrill, screeching noise, causing the heroes to clamp their hands over their ears in pain until it finally rolled to a stop with a pressurized hiss.
Time slowly lowered his hands, shaking off an involuntary shiver at the redead-esque noise. “Everyone alright?”
Hyrule groaned, rubbing his ears sorely. “I think I finally feel bad for DIgdogger...”
“We’re fine,” Four answered. “I’m going to have a headache for the next week and a half, though...”
“Tell me about it...what even WAS that?” Wind asked, scrunching up his eyes as he popped the pressure in his ears.
“‘Hoy!”
The seafarer suddenly snapped to attention at the familiar greeting.
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“’Hoy!”
Link leaned out of the engine cab and waved to the band of...soldiers.
They had to be soldiers, right? They had swords and armor. Maybe there was a ceremony or something coming up.
One of the group, a young-looking boy in blue, waved back to him. “‘Hoy, stranger!”
“Everything alright?” Link called. “You look kind of...lost.”
The group looked between each other. “We kind of are,” another one said, a heavily-scarred one with a long ponytail. “Can you tell us where we are?”
“Just west of Whittleton. Where are you trying to go?”
“Hyrule Castle town,” the most heavily armored one replied. “Is it far from here?”
Link looked the group over critically. “...Not really. It’s a 20 minute ride by train. Can I ask who you guys are?”
“An orchestra!” The kid that had initially greeted him exclaimed.
“...An orchestra.”
“Yep!” He pulled out his baton. “See, I’m a conductor, and he’s got a harp, and he’s got an ocarina...”
“What are you playing, then?” Link said, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh-”
“Song of the Hero,” the friendly-looking one in the white cape supplied. “It’s a classic.”
“...Right.” Link held back a sigh, feeling like this was going to be trouble. He could just leave them...
...But this was Bulblin territory. He’d feel bad.
He could just tell the guard captain to be on the lookout once he got to Hyrule Castle. That’d keep them in line, right?
“...Do you guys want a lift?”
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The train ride was such a change from walking everywhere. Granted, it had been difficult to convince Epona to climb into the passenger car with them, and Legend was sharing a VERY uncomfortable stare with a fluffle of rabbits gathered at his feet. But, for the vast majority of the heroes, it was a chance to rest their legs and watch the scenery fly by.
And it was incredible.
The only comparable thing Wind had seen in his travels was speeding around on Linebeck’s steamboat, and even that required him to be focused on not running into barrels and sandbars.
This, though? It was smooth. The train ran in a straight line, zooming by acres and acres of land without so much as a bump in the wrong direction, with endless ocean through one side of the car and towering mountains through the other. Thinking fast, he pulled out his pictobox and snapped a few shots as he went along.
When the train made its first stop, the screeching sound was notably more bearable through the barriers of the cabin walls. It still made Hyrule wince, but it was a far cry from the veritable scream they’d had to endure before.
As it finally came to a full stop, the engineer that’d picked them up peered into the cabin. “Nobody get up yet, we’re not here. I’m just picking up some more passengers.”
Time raised an eyebrow. “You do this kind of thing often?”
The stranger gave him a deadpan look. “Nope. Never in my life.” Without another word of explanation, he shut the door.
Time stared after him, taken aback.
Had he just....been sassed?
A moment later, the back door of the cabin opened, and two new passengers entered.
“I told you I could pay fare!”
“Yeah, yeah. Still think we could have saved money.”
They sat in the back seat, bickering quietly and, to Legend’s relief, attracting the fluffle away from him. As the train resumed its travel down the road, he found himself listening in to their conversation.
“-plan once we get there?”
“We start looking. Duh.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“Look, if someone uses it, we’ll know. It’s not exactly an easy thing to- ...hide.”
Curious at what had made the newcomer trail off, Legend looked back at them over his shoulder.
The redhead—the one who had ended the conversation—was staring at Wild in shock.
The pink-haired one, on the other hand, Legend recognized instantly. His head spun; the Chain had only just gotten the means to time travel themselves, how had the Hytopian guy with the friendship tokens-?!
Feeling Legend’s gaze on him, Fox looked up, unnerved, then froze in shock as he came to the same conclusion Legend did.
I know you. You shouldn’t BE here.
Suddenly, the train heaved, throwing everyone out of their seats. The once-smooth ride came to an abrupt halt as the train derailed, skidding across the raw ground with a terrifying SCREECH before grinding to a halt and tilting precariously. Twilight and Wild both scrambled to grab Epona and brace her as the car finally tipped, landing on its side with a crash.
Silence hung in the air for one brief, panic-laced second.
Then, in an instant, the redheaded stranger shoved his companion out the back door and vaulted over the cabin seats, barreling into Wild and leaping for the front door. As Wild was abruptly yanked out of his daze, he spotted the Sheikah Slate in the thief’s hand before the redhead made his escape.
Fox stared at Taps as he ran outside. “What are you doing?!”
“Shut up, I’m focusing!” Taps said, frantically clicking through the slate. “Where is it, this layout is atrocious-”
“Did you just steal the-”
“He had my control slate!”
“They had SWORDS!”
“So do we!” Taps stopped on a screen, and sighed in relief. “Finally!” With a blue flash, he summoned his Divine Beast, wasting no time in clambering on board. “Come on, get on!”
“But my clothes-”
“HEY!”
The two time travelers looked over as Wild emerged from the train car to shame mankind, eyes blazing with fury as he raced towards them.
Fox squeaked in alarm, quickly leaping onto the Divine Beast and clinging to Taps. “Drive, DRIVE!”
Wild did his best to give chase as the duo sped off, but his mortal Hylian legs couldn’t keep up with the ingenuity of Sheikah technology. Before his very eyes, two complete strangers fled into the distance with his Divine Beast.
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Link picked himself up off the ground, clutching his ribs in pain as he raced back towards his toppled train.
He had so many people on board, he had a horse back there. If any of them were hurt—
Without a moment’s thought for himself, he threw the cabin door open. “Is everyone okay?!”
Everyone jolted, reaching for their weapons in panic, when suddenly, there was a yelp of pain from the back seat.
Sky clutched his stung hand as he dropped the Master Sword, staring at the engineer in shock.
“You’re...one of us.”
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heshoes · 3 years
Text
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She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.
Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse
Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)
Uni Daze Masterlist
Chapter 2 ( Word Count 6.7K )
Harry
My school day was absolutely long but it kept me busy and busy to me is a good thing. It keeps me balanced though I know Chelle would disagree since he keeps telling me as such over the phone.
"The only reason you think that trying to fit 72 hours in a 24 hour day is a balance is because of your parents. Just because they're work driven arseholes doesn't mean that you have to follow in their footsteps.”
"That's impossible to do, I don't work that much. My parent's aren't arsehole's they're just successful. Is that so wrong to want success?”
"It is when its your last year of uni and you're being a kill joy.”
"I said I would go out for drinks, Chelle. How is my compliance to something that I don't want to do being a kill joy?”
"Because you're not doing it with a smile. You've become boring. Your sex life and your regular life has turned about as vanilla as a middle aged man. We never had to beg you to come out last year or over the summer, Harrow. Think of it as a week of extended holidays. No one does anything the first week of classes anyway. It's all rules and instructions on how to prepare. We've been in uni for three years. We should know the jist of it by now.”
"But it's not summer anymore, Chelle and you know some professors like to give assignments in the first few days. We have two papers already in seminar for fucks sake.”
Michelle sighed in annoyance.
"Yeah, but, those aren't due for ages, Haz. Fun is due right now.”
"This is the year to pull your shit together. Everyone can't not study and get perfect marks like you. Sorry.”
"The phrase 'can't not' is a double edged sword.”
"What?" I spun around in my desk at work, handing a first year her keys. Its only the first day and she's already lost her keys and has to use her spare for a fifty pound charge. She looks nervous as well and her face is kind of red. She grins at me and says a shy 'thank you' before walking away, staring back at me and kind of tripping over her own feet on her way to the lift. I tried not to laugh, but honestly it was kind of funny.
"You know, a double edged sword? A double negative?You can't say 'can't not' next to each other in a sentence. It's repetitive of itself. You should be embarrassed. This is primary school stuff Harrow. Mr. “I have to take the UKCAT this year.”"
"Whatever Chelle! See? That's what I mean. I need a balance. I need to be able to be involved in school. I should have taken it more serious when we first started out.”
"You do realize balance means a good amount of your job, school work, AND a social life which includes parties and pubs and going out with your mates without a grumble?”
"I'm going out for drinks tonight! You're starting to piss me off."
"If the truth is anything it's annoying, Harry." I nodded my head and began to swivel around in my chair. I'd just gotten to work and had three and a half more hours to go. I'm glad I have a job and all but this one is fucking boring.
Speaking of truth.
"Do the boys know about your um...your new team?”
"No. Actually they don’t."
Oh.
“Oh?"
"Yeah, um, I was hoping that it was something that we could keep between me and you for now. Just until I can figure things out. I'd love to say that I'm for sure just this one thing. I know I said it this morning, but I'm still not sure, okay?”
"Yeah. Sure, of course." I stopped spinning in my seat and dizzying myself when I heard my manager's voice,"Look I've gotta go. I'm not supposed to be on the phone and my boss is coming.”
"Oh so there is some rebellion left in you? You're living on the edge now, Hazland. Why can't you use your phone? All you do is sit in a chair and answer phones and make people keys when they lock themselves out of their dorm.”
"Bye Michelle!" I quickly hung up the phone and stuck it into my pocket smiling awkwardly at Professor Forrester as he approached the front desk with someone else right next to him. She had on a Cambridge work shirt much like myself letting me know that I more than likely wouldn't be alone for the rest of my shift.
"Rion, this is Harry," Professor Forrester spoke to her before addressing me, "today is her first day here at the university and working. I told her that she would be in good hands if I left her here with you. Show her the ropes and maybe show her around campus when you're not at work? I've got to go," Professor Forrester turned to face the new girl before he nodded back at me, "any questions you have, ask him. He'll know all of the answers.”
She nodded her head up and down slowly before giving a shy grin and we were left alone as Forrester left the building.
“Hi."
“Hello."
"I'm Harry.”
She laughed to herself before nodding her head at me.
"So I was told. Nice to meet you.”
Rion, I think her name was, sat down in her seat next to mine after speaking back to me, lowering her rucksack down to the ground before pulling out a book. It was a good idea really. Maybe I should have brought one? I barely get the chance to read, especially living with Michelle. She always finds a way to interrupt, either that or my ADD kicks in, all the more reason for me to put in more effort at school. I took out my phone once I knew that Forrester was gone, but I really had nothing to do with it. I had no new text messages besides Michelle.
Chelle: Drinksssssss 🍻🍺🍺🍺🍻🍻🍻😉
I grinned before shaking my head and replying back to her, something just as stupid as she sent me.
To Chelle: Tortureeeeeeee😣🔫🍺😒
Chelle: Dramatic!
Ignoring her last text, I took out my earphones and turned up the music on my phone as I placed them in my ears. I suppose it was a bit loud because out of the corner of my eye I could see Rion scrunching her nose while she tried to read.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.”
"No disturbance, I was just trying to figure the tune. Runaway?”
“Wh-what?"
She laughed before she pointed to the phone in my hand and repeated herself.
"Is that Runaway by Ed Sheeran?”
I nodded my head, not able to stop the stupid grin that cut across my face.
"You know Ed Sheeran that’s not on top 40?”
"Who doesn't? The man's a musical genius.”
She smiled at me before she turned back to her book, but I couldn't help but to keep talking to her.
"What school did you used to go to? Um, if you don't mind me asking…"
"Nope, don't mind at all. I used to go to Bristol Uni. How about yourself? Have you been at Cambridge all of your university career?”
I nodded my head and she looked impressed, but I'm sure she wouldn't be if she knew that I was a legacy and that I slacked off for the first three and a half years. Good thing that I'm getting my shit together now.
"Yeah, it’s alright here.”
"Just alright?”
"One of the best alrights I guess. Welcome to Cambridge and congratulations.”
"Thank you.”
I smiled at her and the conversation was on the verge of ending, but before I stuck my other ear bud in I paid closer attention to the book that she had in her hand.
"Scott Fitzgerald."
"Pardon?" Rion raised an eyebrow at me.
"That's F. Scott Fitzgerald.”
She raised her book showing me the spine, shocked that I hadn't seen the cover but still got the author right.
"You know F. Scott Fitzgerald?" She smiled at me while relaying my words back to me.
"Who doesn't? The man was a written genius. Not to mention that the book you're reading happens to be one of my favorites.”
She smiled again.
"Usually people only notice Fitzgerald if The Great Gatsby is involved." She turned her chair towards mine giving me a better view of her.
"Gatsby is a classic, but I think that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button has more character.”
We continued to talk and before I knew it the shift was over. No one else needed keys and the phone barely rung. I probably would have stayed beyond the time that I was supposed to get off talking and creating awkward conversation with Rion had it not been for Michelle's reminders:
Chelle: Tonight is gonna be fun 😊
Chelle: You're off work in 1⃣5⃣ min🎉🎊
Chelle: I'm gonna get you so fucked up!😝
Chelle: I'm excited 😬
To Chelle: No 💩. Too excited I reckon 😐
I laughed to myself as I gathered my things to leave the building, not fully believing that I allowed Michelle to talk me into drinking tonight, even though part of me knew that I wouldn't be able to break tradition. Rion put her book away, that she never really got into reading and followed behind me out the door and to the parking lot. She seemed cool from what I got to know about her in the amount of time that I did and since she's new, I figure that it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Hey, a couple of my friends and I are getting together tonight to The Mill. Its a pub right up the road on Mill lane, if you're not busy, you should, um, you should come.”
"Mill pub? On a Monday?”
"Yeah, it's kind of a tradition that we started when we started here." I rub my shoulder as I wait for her answer. I don't know why I feel nervous about it but I do.
"It sounds like fun, but I shouldn’t, not tonight at least. I wouldn't be able to bear it if I missed class tomorrow because of a hangover, and I kind of also have plans.”
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it like you didn't have anything else to do or-”
"No it's fine it's just... I have a date.”
"Right. Sorry again.”
"I'll see you around though I hope?”
"Yeah, I'll see you at work.”
Rion nodded her head while giving me a content smile before she got into her car and as she pulled off, she waved to me. I waved back but as soon as her car was out of sight, I slapped myself in the face with the palm of my hand. Maybe six months is too long to go without any type of real interaction with the opposite sex besides Michelle, but honestly she doesn't count...or maybe she counts for both now?
I cleared my head of my thoughts as I got into my car that I feel like I'm too tall for. Even with the seat pushed down as low as it can go, I still can feel the top of my head brush against the roofing of it. By now I'm sure I've saved up enough to get a new one. A new car could be my mini treat to myself for cutting myself off from a social life. The more that I think about the way that my conversation with Rion just ended the more that I start to agree with Michelle and the more excited I get for the night of boozy tradition.
As soon as eleven thirty-five hit, my phone rang. When I answered it Michelle's voice came through clear as if she were sitting here next to me in the car, even though background noise and music blares in the room around her.
"Everyone is here but you. Are you en route?”
"Everyone?" I ask her with skepticism in my tone. I would be shocked if everyone showed up.
"Yes everyone. Niall, Darragh, and Zayn. Everyone but you. Are you on your way?”
I don't know why I even asked her if everyone would be there. I knew that Louis wouldn't show even though it was him and Darragh who started this tradition..
"Yeah, I'm on my way. This should be fun.”
"That's the spirit I've been looking for Harrow. It sounds like you've had a change of heart since earlier.”
"Yeah, I think I've been looking at my textbooks too long and not at real people. One night won't kill me I suppose.”
"If one night is done right, then yes, yes it will. And what do you mean you don't see real people? I see you everyday.”
"You're not a real person, Michelle. I'm not quite sure what you are yet.”
"I think I might have an idea by now." Michelle said while chuckling on the other end of the line.
"And what would that be?”
"Getting lucky tonight. Get here soon and I can be your wing-lady.”
The pub was in the early stages of being crowded when I got there and I couldn't deny how excited I was to see the boys, Michelle included even though I saw her only just this morning. The last time that we were all together was in the middle of June, but after that we really hadn't had time to hang out. Everyone had gotten busy and into their own things. Besides keeping in touch over the phone occasionally, we haven't really talked that much either.
The first person that I saw when I got in was Niall. He sat next to Darragh with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting down his jeans in search of a lighter no doubt. When we made eye contact, he stuck his arms out to the side with his fingers spread wide and a smile on his face. Darragh looked at him as if he lost his mind until he followed Niall's line of vision and then quickly stood from his seat.
"Harry! How are you lad? Drinks are on Liam so order the most expensive thing possible.”
I received two claps on the back from each of them when I reached the table and then a smack on my ass that made me jump and then turn around find the guilty culprit. I should have known who it was straight away.
"Chelle! That actually hurt.”
She laughed at my discomfort with some kind of frothy drink in her hand as I grabbed my bum cheek and rubbed it over my jeans.
"Probably because there's barely any meat there to cushion the blow.”
I shook my head at her and squinted my eyes before I responded, "It's not about what's back there, its all about what's in the front. Girls don't date me for my bum.”
“Well, according to you, girls don't date you at all, not recently at least.”
Niall and Darragh started to laugh and a stream of smoke came through Niall's nose reminding me of an angry bull from a cartoon before he took another drag from his cigarette, this time intentionally blowing a ring of smoke before sucking it back in through his nostrils. I probably could have strangled Michelle in that moment, but it was true. My mind goes back to Rion and work and I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"Mitch told us about your six month drought.”
"Stop calling me Mitch!”
Niall ignored Michelle's outburst before continuing, "She says you haven't gotten laid since your birthday.”
"Do you know what a penis fly catcher even looks like anymore?" Darragh added to Niall's teasing causing my nose to scrunch.
"Penis fly catcher?”
"Yeah, it's better than what you call it. What do you say again? Bajango?”
"No Darragh," Niall cuts in, "Django was a movie. He says bajingo. It makes sense to me.”
Michelle scrunches her nose in disgust and confusion at our conversation but doesn't say anything. Really though, what more could be added to this?
"It's not that big of a deal guys." I bring the conversation back to where it was before it drifted into a dark place so quickly. It can't be that bad. Can it? Perhaps it is? I don't even know at this point anymore.
"Oi leave him alone," Zayn chimed in as he walked up to the table with Liam with two beers in hand, passing me one before he sat down, "its alright Harry sex isn't everything...but six months is a long ass time. But enough about that. What has everyone been up to?”
It was almost like a show and tell as we went around the table talking about what we'd missed out on over the summer since we hadn't seen each other. Niall and Darragh went to Ibiza for the month of July staying in hostels and partying until all hours of the morning. Apparently Niall is in love with a girl he met there, but he doesn't remember her name so I don't know how accurate that is
Zayn spent a good amount of time in France with his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé. The fucker got engaged in France. Everyone thought that he and Daphne were gonna be a short lived thing since they met at a club and all, but people find love and fall in it in mysterious ways I guess. Michelle would be a prime example of that...but love is not involved with her apparently. A player not to be played anymore. I still have questions to ask her about that but I guess I'll have to wait until later since she doesn't want the guys to know that she's traded outies for innies. I could out her like she did me and my drought, but that's way more personal and I've decided that I'm not that much of an asshole, if I'm one at all that is.
Liam was arrested and his parents flipped out. For what I'm kind of scared to ask, but I'm sure it was something accidental. Sometimes I wonder how Liam even got into Cambridge, but I guess that they don't test for common sense, only book smarts.
When it got to Michelle's turn, she just talked about how she flew back home for a few weeks at the very start of summer to visit family and then came back here, but of course that's not anything that I didn't already know. When she came back was when I noticed all of the girlfriends that she had. It was odd to me because Michelle generally hated girls and hanging out with them, but then again, she obviously doesn't hate them that much.
When I told them that the most exciting part of my summer had been joining a book club for some work that I had to get ready to do for senior class, studying for the UKCAT that's not until the end of the school year, and sometimes coming here to Mill pub with Michelle I realized that what she said was true. My life had become vanilla, but I'm honestly kind of alright with it.
We continued to talk, share, laugh and drink until it was at least half three in the morning. I was waiting to see if Michelle was going to change her mind and let the lads know about her newfound liking but she kept it private between me and her the way that she said she would and it kind of made me smile. That along with the ridiculous amount of beer and shots consumed brought a goofy smile to my face by the end of the night.
By exactly three forty-five I was seeing double and couldn't drive home. Niall and Darragh had left to go back to their apartment that happened to be a few blocks down from ours, and Zayn and Liam stayed behind at the bar to drink deciding that they were too far gone now and might as well finish strong. They also decided that class tomorrow isn't important.
Michelle would have stayed behind with them I'm sure, but she has the tendency to be this odd motherly type when I get beyond the legal limit. I think she just likes to laugh at me because I start to say foolish things when my tongue loosens up in my mouth and my words slur. I tried to get up from the table discreetly so that I could walk home while Mitch, Zayn, and Liam continued to chat, but I knocked over a chair.
“Oh shit. I'm sorry bro." I chuckled to myself like an idiot as I picked up the chair earning the lads attention.
"Where are you going?" Michelle's eyes seemed to widen as she took in the state of me.
"Home. I've got class in the morrow-morning.”
"Do you honestly think that you're going to make it to class? Look at you, you can barely stand. My job is complete.” Michelle grins in triumph and I squint my eyes at her trying to figure out when she was going to tell me that she was a triplet.
"You're a horrible people and I don't know why we're friends." I think I was looking at her when I said it, but it could have very well been one of her sisters.
"Alright, and that's my cue. We'll see you later guys." Michelle spoke to Liam and Zayn as stood from the table, a little wobbly at best bus still in a better condition than I was in.
"You don't have to walk me home, Michelle. I'm not no kid.”
Michelle laughed as I stumbled, almost tripping on a crack in the pavement.
"Since I live there too I'm not technically walking you home. I'm walking home with you.”
I checked to see if my car was locked before we began our walk. The crisp early morning air sobered me up a bit, but I was still highly intoxicated and grinning.
"How was your first day of classes?" Michelle asked me breaking the silence of our trek back to our flat.
"Hmm, was okay. Good actually... I met this…met this girl.”
"You did? You were holding out on us at the pub! Who is it? Do I know who she is?”
"No, I don't think you do," I paused to hiccup hoping that was all that I had to do, "She's new here and you don't like girls. I mean, well, you know what I mean. You wouldn't know her.”
Michelle laughed while shaking her head.
“So it's a first year? I'm ashamed of you! I know you haven't dated in a while but that's sweeping the bottom of the barrel, Harrow.”
“No not a first year," hiccup "She's around my age, just new to Cambridge.”
“Oh," Michelle spoke putting her key in the door before she opened it "Where'd you meet her?”
“Work. I kind of asked her to come to the pub with me, but she said she had a date and I kind of sounded like a blubbering idiot when I asked her. I don't know.”
“Harry! You can't just invite people to come to the pub and we haven't met them yet! What if she was awful? Good thing she didn't come. That tradition is sacred for us. Whatever you said to her was probably fine. She just had other plans... Do you know why I've recently started calling you Harrow Harry?”
“Because it's one of the many odd nicknames you've created for me?”
“No. Harrow as in the adjective, it just so happens to fit with you. Har•row when used in verbal tense, means to cause distress to. You're causing unnecessary distress to yourself when you worry about things like the UKCAT and assignments that aren't due until the end of the year, and whatever you've said to this mystery bird that you've met at work. Fun. You used to be much less tense and more fun. You need to chill out and relax. You need to I don't know, get some maybe.”
I rolled my eyes before running my hand through my hair and walking into the kitchen, opening the cabinet in search of my favorite drunken snack, grabbing it when I found it and heading for my room. Quickly stripping off into my boxers, I fell against my bed before I turned on my television and got under the covers. I ate my snack in peace before Michelle knocked on my door twice and then let herself in.
"I could have been naked! you could at least wait for me to say come in.”
“Yeah well, its not like I've never seen a penis before and they're not really my main thing anymore you know?” Michelle climbed into bed with me, intruding while I tried to hide my snacks.
"What are you eating?”
“Nothing.” I slowed my chewing in hopes that she would lose interest.
"Harry I see them! Are those teddy grahams?”
“No!”
“They are! They're a snack for a five year old.”
“Teddy grahams don't have an age limit.”
“You should be embarrassed.” Chelle spoke before grabbing the box and taking a handful for herself, moving around too much for my drunken stomach to handle.
"Oohh these are nice. These are new sheets aren't they?”
"Chelle! Stop moving! Why are you in my room? Get out!”
“My room is too hot, so I've decided that we're going to have a sleepover. You get the better ventilation. You should trade with me.”
“What?”
“I'll sleep on the floor. It really is dreadful in my room.”
I sigh before I grab my pillows and comforter and toss them on the ground leaving Michelle the bed as I make my way to the floor.
“Aww Harry you're the sweetest, but I can really take the floor.”
“No, it's fine. Just don't do anything perverted while you're up there.”
“What like masturbate? I'm not you.”
I chuckled turning to face her from my position on the floor.
“Exactly, but if you do at least that I’m asleep first…Thats just common courtesy. ”
“Sure thing, Harlot. I can do that for you.” Michelle responded without pause causing me to chuckle before my head hit the pillow.
****
“ My head,” I groaned, waking up on the floor with my covers wrapped around me too tight much like a swaddling cloth. After successfully the blanket away from me in an attempt to escape confinement, I sat up slowly only to make the headache worse than it already was and add a new pain to the mix. “My back.”
I had almost forgotten that I slept on the floor to be nice and allowed Michelle to stay in my bed, but when I turned around to look at it I quickly discovered that she wasn't there. I could hear fumbling around in the kitchen and when I stood to follow the noise, the pounding in my head grew. When I reached the small space that we mostly use to microwave shitty food and store alcohol and juice, I saw that Michelle was fully dressed. I mean, well, if you can call an oversized sweater and tights with ladders down the legs in random places dressed then thats what she was.
“Morning, sunshine. How do you feel.”
“Like my head might explode all over the kitchen and I still have to get ready for class. Today is going to be long as shit,” my words slurred proving that there was still traces of alcohol in my bloodstream and when I swayed back and forth feeling as if I might lose my balance, I knew, “I'm still fucked.”
Michelle laughed at me before she flipped her pancake onto a plate and ran it back and forth below my nose. I snatched it from her and took a bite of the buttery breakfast cake without using the fork that she offered.
“Don't be such a savage, Haz. I'm not going to take the food from you after I've clearly been slaving over the oven for five whole minutes so that you could eat. Slow down, chew your food, and sit like a civilized human being. If you eat like that you're going to require the heimlich maneuver and unfortunately I don't know it. You'll turn blue and die in front of me on a Tuesday afternoon and that would put a slight damper on my day.”
“Afternoon?” I asked her while chewing around the pancake, “Afternoon?”
“Yes, Styles. Thats what I said.”
I put the plate that I was holding down on our small kitchen bench before I walked out into living room to squint at the only other clock that we had besides our cell phones, only to confirm what Chelle had just said. I rubbed my hands over my eyes hoping that it was just an illusion and what I'd seen was wrong because if it was the truth, I'd missed all of my morning classes for the day.
“Three eleven? It can't be three eleven! I had classes from nine until two!”
“And you slept through them like a baby.”
“Fuck! Michelle why didn't you wake me up? What's the point of having an Ultimate Alarm if it's not going to be used?”
“Harry, remember that little chat we had yesterday about distress and the use of your nickname? And in order for me to wake you up, I would have had to been up too. Even if I was, I wouldn't be using the Ultimate Alarm to save you with the splitting hangover that I had,” Michelle shakes her head in clear disgust before she continued, “too loud.”
My eyes widened as I looked at my friend, bewildered, annoyed, and somewhere deep down, somewhat amused. I waved my hand between the two of us before I gave up and ran it over my face exasperatedly. This is not how I intended to start the year off. My hand ascended from my face to sliding through my hair in distress, “Thats the point of the alarm, Michelle. It's supposed to be loud. It's supposed to wake you up.”
“Harry, calm down. When we got to sleep it was like seven in the morning anyway. I don't know how you expected to be up, awake, and alert in class. Don't you have like seven others that you can go to tonight? Over achiever.”
“If I shower now I can make it to my organic chemistry class.”
“Gross.”
I looked over to Michelle and frowned before I continued, “ Thanks for throwing me off by the way, making pancakes at three in the afternoon and making me think that it was morning.”
“Whatever time of day that you wake up is morning to me. I was feeling like pancakes, so I made pancakes. You didn't seem to mind them by the way that you were eating them a few minutes ago, arsehole.”
The mention of the food reminded me of how dry my throat was and how alcohol will leave your mouth feeling like you'd guzzled sand if you consume enough of it. I felt like a raisin.
“Do we have anymore orange juice?”
"No. Sorry I finished that all yesterday morning when you almost killed me and Alison with that damn fog horn.”
“Alison?” I smirked at Michelle before I started to tease. "Usually a player doesn't remember a conquests name.”
“You would know," she retorted back while squinting her eyes, “ you used to be one. But don't worry, Harry. I'll get so good at it that you won't ever catch one of them leaving the next morning ever again. I'll be like a black widow or is it a praying mantises that kill all other intimacy as soon as they've finished with them? I'll send them on their way so that I can sleep in my bed alone. It'll be like a switch.”
Michelle grinned as she spoke, silently approving her idea as I thought about how lonely it sounded. It actually saddened me. Michelle isn't the type that can handle being cold hearted and callous enough to kick people out of bed. After being in a monogamous relationship for three years, I could tell that she was the type who craved intimacy. She deserved it. What she just explained to me sounded like eventually it would take its toll on her and she would break down like she did before, substituting my shirt sleeves for tissues.
I keep my opinions to myself, not having enough time before my next class starts to really sit down with her and talk about them. If it's one thing that I cherish about Michelle and I's relationship is that we can literally almost talk about anything, if we had the proper amount of time to do so. I shake my head at her before I head down the hall, calling back to her.
“I never was a player, Mitch. I just wasn't steady in my relationships like you.”
"Whatever you say, Harold. Please go put on trousers…I don't want to see your moose knuckle.”
****
I'd made it to my chemistry lecture on time, and though I tried my hardest, it was extremely difficult to keep my eyes open. Even though I'd slept past all of my morning classes, I still didn't get the best rest from sleeping on the floor. Michelle was irritatingly right again. The only thing that was really mentioned today since it was still the very beginning of the school year, was instruction and what the professor expected from us as a class, so when my eyes closed momentarily as I sat at the back of the room, I didn't feel so bad. Before I knew it the lecture was over and I was rustled awake my the movement of students as they gathered their bags to leave the room.
"You've got a bit of dribble there." A familiar voice laughed as I stepped out of the classroom I wiped my mouth sheepishly before smiling at her.
“Rion, hi how are you?”
“I'm good. Getting around campus well enough, but how are you? You look pretty worn out and its only the second official day of the school year. Did your tradition get the best of you last night? You've got imprint marks from your sweater on your face.”
My hand went to the side of my face that she pointed out, the imprints from my clothing giving away my previous position before I flashed her a quick grin and responded ,Um, uh yeah kind of. I may or may not have missed all of my classes this morning. Mitch didn't wake me up, bad influence I guess.”
“Mitch?”
"Oh, um sh- Mitch is just...Mitch is my roommate." I explained in a panic I didn't want to scare her off with the details. I think I might actually have a chance with Rion, if I don't put my foot in my mouth that is.
“Oh I see.”
Rion smiled at me and I didn't even realize that we've been walking and talking this entire time. Conversation flows easily with her even though I stumble over my words. I feel like I'm just remembering how to talk to the opposite sex besides Michelle and feel kind of pathetic, but Rion doesn't seem to mind as she continues to smile laugh and start on new topics of conversation.
“So how long were you out for?”
“I didn't go to sleep until seven this morning and my head was pounding when I woke up. I really have no one to blame but myself. I told my friends that I would only have one drink and ended the night on my ass. I still have to go back to the pub and get my car, because I had to end up walking home. How I got to the right apartment on the first try is a mystery to me.”
Rion giggled in a cute way before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear allowing me to see her features more. Her neck was slender and long, connecting to her shoulders delicately. She had a small tattoo that looked to be a ballet flat behind her left ear. Those tattoos placed just there always seemed like they might hurt, like they deserved to be kissed better even though the ache from the needle has been long gone. I could envision my lips on just that spot. I must have glanced at her just a bit longer than I should have causing a rosy hue to make its presence known on her cheeks. It made me smile before I quickly changed the subject this time, not wanting her to think that I was rude or weird for staring.
"How did your date go?"
She took deep breath before deciding if she wanted give a response or not and we ended up in the courtyard right before the student parking lot.
"It came and went, I suppose. Nothing really interesting to report. It sounds like I would have had more fun if I had taken the offer to go out for drinks with you. I'm usually not really big on drinking on the weekdays, but after that date I honestly might have taken a shot or four."
I smiled, selfishly happy that she didn't have a good time. I want to ask her out, but I feel like its too damn soon. I only met her yesterday anyway. Maybe its a good thing that she turned me down. When the time is right to ask her I'm sure I'll know. Hopefully I will.
"I'm sorry it didn't go as planned. Someone should take you out and show you a good time."
"Yeah, hopefully someone will sooner rather than later."
I think the emphasis that she put on the word someone was aimed at me, but I could be wrong. I don't know what else to say so I cap the conversation off with a , "Yeah" and mentally slap myself in the face before I grin awkwardly at her. I look around the parking lot as we come up to a white Toyota and she takes her keys out signaling that the tiny car is hers.
"Oh, well I'll let you go and get on with the rest of your day. Good seeing you."
"Okay, yeah." She responds quietly before she puts the key in the lock to open the door.
This has to be the most awkward I've felt in a while. I radiate awkward and though I don't want to believe it's because of what Michelle and the boys said, I'm kind of starting to think that they might be right myself.
"Wait, Harry?"
"Yes?" I turn my head to look over my shoulder before turning around to face her.
"I can take you to go get your car if you'd like. It looks like it might rain and it would suck if you were to get all wet."
All wet. I blush at her word choice and from that point on I know. Michelle, Niall, and Darragh were right.
"No. No its okay. You don't have to and I mean, don't you have other classes?"
She shakes her head and then opens her other car door, "I'm done for the day. Really I don't have a problem taking you. Get in."
I walk back towards her, thanking her and then giving her directions to the pub from the main campus. When we pull up, sure enough my car is there. Along with a ticket taped to the window for leaving it in the lot overnight. I sigh and rub my hands over my eyes before I get out and thank Rion again. Just as she's about to pull off, I call her name causing her to stop the car and reverse.
"Yes?" She looks at me eagerly with her eyes slightly widened and and traces of a grin on her face. I scratched my head out of embarrassment before I speak while pointing to the passenger side of the car.
"I left my book bag in your car."
"Oh, sorry. Here you go." The grin falls as she unlocks her car door so that I can get my bookbag. This time when she pulls off, I wave an awkward goodbye to her before getting in my car, knocking my head against the steering wheel in defeat causing the horn to honk.
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screechthemighty · 2 years
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Sorry for the day delay, I had a raging headache last night. Here’s the promised Miraith! It’s pure sappy nonsense, as to be expected. The full short is below but I’ll be linking to AO3 in a reblog! It’ll be part of a multi-chapter collection just to keep everything tidy.
It was one of those days, and by one of those days Elliott meant all he had was a P-2020 and grenades. Level 2 helmet but Level 1 body shield and no backpack kind of day. The kind of day that was going to make its way onto some kind of fail compilation (which, of course, meant he was going to be fighting the urge to check once the match was over).
At least he wasn’t the only one suffering. Wraith had her kunai and a Mozambique and Pathfinder had an Alternator with like, half a clip left. He hadn’t spotted what they had for armor, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good. “I hope one of you has a plan, because I don’t have anything,” Elliott confessed as he crouched behind cover. “Seriously, any plan I come up with is gonna need to be thrown out in five seconds.”
“Let me think.” Wraith sounded frustrated, though Elliott was pretty sure it wasn’t with him. It seemed like she was frustrated with herself. This had been her suggested drop point…though, to be fair, he’d agreed. So had Pathfinder. It was a joint screw-up. They all deserved the blame for this one. “Shit. I can’t see a path out.”
Elliott checked the map. “Yeah, uh, path out is through all the fighting. Unless we want to backtrack, but I think a lot of guys were dropping back there, too.” He nearly threw in a pick your poison, but his tongue tripped over the first p sound and he tossed that entirely. Alliteration and stress did not mix for his stupid stutter. “I…kinda vote we backtrack, though. Think things won’t be so bad back there. Especially if everyone is rushing for the good loot. We might be able to slip past.”
Wraith glanced over at Pathfinder. “Path? What do you think?”
“I agree. There is greater building coverage as well. If we can get to the roof, I may be able to give us further distance with my zipline.”
Wraith thought about it, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll move slowly. No picking any fights.”
“Fine by me. I just have this.” Elliott held up the P-2020 and sighed. “I’m starting to think I should’ve stayed in bed today.”
Wraith smiled, just for a second, before she went back to being serious. “Stick close together.”
They moved as quickly as they could without giving their position away, darting between buildings while Pathfinder waited for his zipline to fully charge. They didn’t head for the roof until it was close; no point in showing themselves until they absolutely had to. Fortunately, they were able to skirt around a few skirmishes and find marginally better weapons in the buildings (and on a few unconscious bodies, because listen: you weren’t going to make it in these games unless you were fine with looting corpses). It wasn’t much, but it was better than when they started.
Everything's fine! Everything is going to be fine. You've got this. You're fine.
It's fine.
Elliott was starting to believe it, too, when Pathfinder shot the zip line. That was it. Their ticket out of there. Path first, then him, then Wraith. Elliott was about halfway across the line when he turned around to look back at Wraith, just to see how she was doing.
God or the universe or whoever must have had a hand in him turning around, because it was just in time for him to spot someone coming down the zip line. Gun raised. Ready to blow Wraith away.
Shit - !
Elliott didn't stop to think. It was like he was briefly possessed by every Witt and Medina that had ever held a gun. He just raised the Triple Take he'd managed to grab off someone, aimed not quite down the sights but as close as he could manage while ziplining, and…
Crack.
Their opponent went flying off the zipline. Wraith looked over her shoulder, then back at Elliott. Their eyes met for just a second, before she looked back over to see if the guy's team mates were following.
No one else. Probably just some poor SOB who'd lost their teammates and thought they could shoot their way past to get away. Instead, they'd been one-shotted off the zipline in what was arguably one of the cooler moments in Elliott's career in the games.
The whole thing was capped off by him perfectly nailing the landing and catching Wraith when she hit the end of the zipline. She didn't even protest at what was dangerously close to PDA. She still looked a little bit shocked by the whole thing. Elliott felt a little shocked, too. "Shit," he breathed. "That was close, huh?"
Wraith just stared at him, blue eyes wide. He still had his hands resting loosely on her waist, and her hands were braced against his forearms—again, dangerously close to PDA, but he was still a bit rattled by having almost seen her get hit. So rattled that he almost missed...
She cleared her throat suddenly and pulled away. “Nice shot,” she said. Had her cheeks gone pink? “We should keep moving. We don’t know if he’s got squad mates in the area.”
“Yeah,” Elliott agreed immediately. His brain slipped back into business mode as he jogged after her—well, most of his brain. There was one little nugget that refused to let go of what had just happened. Not in the, Oh, shit, Wraith almost “died” kind of way. In a different way.
It was still stupid. Yes, the moment had been badass, but this wasn’t a movie. Just because he’d pulled off a pretty impressive shot and caught her like it was a dramatic scene out of an action movie didn’t mean...
No. It was Wraith. She wouldn’t...not in front of cameras...
There was no way she was about to kiss me, was she? Right? Right.
...Right?
“That was pretty cool, though, right?” Elliott said in a desperate attempt to get his mind off of it. “Do you think I looked cool?”
Wraith rolled her eyes, but when she replied—“Yes, Mirage, I’m sure you did”—there was no bite to it. Not even the pretend levels of bite she still used to make sure they didn’t get caught.
That really didn’t clear up his confusion.
Cool. Now I have that to obsess over for literally no reason.
 Dating Elliott hadn’t changed her—not that Wraith could tell. It was, at most, awakening parts of herself that had laid dormant, unused muscles stretching as she navigated the landscape of a romantic relationship. That meant she couldn’t blame him for what had almost happened. She only had herself, and whatever part of her mind was still an absolute fucking sap.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot, stupid. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, actually; that was the problem. He’d saved her life before, more than once, but she had to admit, this was one of the fancier moments. It had been a damn good shot, and that catch when she hit the end of the zipline was smooth. Completely unnecessary, but even she had to admit it was smooth. It had also been too brief to have been perceived as anything but shock on both their parts, thank God. She’d re-watched the clip more than once when they got out of the arena, just to be sure.
You could’ve given something away, Wraith thought. You definitely would have if you’d kissed him.
That was why she was so pissed at herself. She’d thought about it. She’d really thought about it, in those fleeting-but-infinite seconds after the shot. The urge wasn’t a new development, either. It wasn’t like Elliott saving her and then literally sweeping her off her feet suddenly flipped a switch and she was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. Absolutely not. The thought had crossed her mind on and off a few times. The only difference was, all the other times were during more...mundane moments. When he dropped her off at her apartment after lunch. After seeing him genuinely laugh at a stupid joke. One time during a picnic when he accidentally fell asleep. Just...odd little moments that felt right, but not quite right.
She was still a little surprised Elliott hadn’t made the first move—but then again, not that surprised. He’d tried to be respectful of her personal space even before they started dating, and he’d kept that up moving forward. That meant she'd have to be the one to make the first move.
But that meant finding the right time. And it never seemed like it. And it especially hadn't been like the right time on camera, Wraith, you idiot…
Her phone ringed. It was a text from Elliott: u on the roof?
She should’ve been startled by the text, but he knew her by now. She didn't go many places on the new compound. At this time of day, if she wasn't in her room or in the cafeteria, she was probably hiding on the roof. Pathfinder probably would’ve guessed the same. Maybe Crypto, observant as he was.
I need to be less predictable.
Yeah, Wraith texted back. Everything okay?
just wanted to hang out if you're ok with it. do you want me to bring you food? he replied.
Damn it. She had a feeling she knew what this was about. Wraith could have avoided it, but...no. She wasn’t going to do that. Not hungry but you can come up, she replied. Her appetite hadn’t come back yet. That always took some time after a match.
Elliott showed up with a snack of his own, the same chips he always seemed to stress eat even when they won. Salt counteracts adrenaline, didn’t anyone ever tell you that? It looked like he was already halfway through the bag. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just...needed to think,” Wraith replied. She could only look him in the eyes for half a second. "I know we won but it's...one of those victories."
Elliott nodded. "Oh, yeah, I know what you mean." He sat down next to her. "I'm definitely sleeping in tomorrow."
"That's fair." Wraith glanced his way again. "That was a good shot, by the way. It really was."
Elliott's ears started to go a bit red, even as he smiled. "Yeah? I saw the footage. I looked cool. And not too romantic, by the way. I think you came across surprised that I could shoot like that."
Wraith laughed quietly. "Agreed. We should be okay." No one had asked her any weird questions post-interview and no one from the Syndicate's PR had reached out, so she figured at best the shippers were reading into it and no one else. Which might work out, actually. If they're the only ones, that's a smokescreen. No one listens to the shippers…
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
Damn it.
Wraith tried not to look panicked. "Sure. What's up?"
Elliott fidgeted with the chip bag, his hands anxiously crinkling the top. "Okay, so I might be...super off base and you can tell at me if I am, but...were uh." He cleared his throat, the next words coming out in a rush: “Wereyouabouttokissmebackthere?”
It actually took Wraith a second to register what he’d said. Once she did..
“...yeah,” Wraith groaned. Quickly, she added, “I’m sorry.”
Elliott’s face had gone red. He still seemed to be registering that she’d admitted to it. “S-sorry for what? I...uhm...I mean, you didn’t...”
“Yeah, but I could’ve blown it. And if I had...I’d have felt bad.”
“Felt...bad?” Elliott’s blush deepened. “Wh-why?”
“Because...” Wraith rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t...I didn’t want to just kiss you out of nowhere. You’ve respected my space, it’d be shitty of me not to do the same. I was going to ask, I just...never was sure how.”
That had been important to her. But she’d almost let the moment get to her head, in public, like an idiot. Wraith was so caught up in her annoyance that she almost missed how long the pause after her confession went on. Until...
“...huh.”
When Wraith looked Elliott’s way, he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring off over the other rooftops, a surprised look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing, just...I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone think about it like that. Not with me. People just sort of assume I’m down for anything, so...” He looked her way finally, his blush mostly faded, his eyes grateful. “Thank you.”
"...yeah, of course." It was...sad that the concept was such a shock to him. She knew he was a flirt, but she also knew that was, in part, a smokescreen. And even a genuine flirt still had boundaries. At least he didn’t seem traumatized...not that she could tell, at least. "If I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me."
Elliott held out a hand to her questioningly. Wraith took it and squeezed it gently. " I'll remember that. Thank you."
They sat for a while in silence, just watching the sun set, carefully holding onto each other, Wraith's embarrassment slowly fading. She was getting more and more peaceful moments like this. It was nice—not having to worry all the time, just enjoying the moment with someone she cared about.
She hadn’t thought she’d get that so soon, if ever.
"But, uhm, just to answer the question," Elliott said suddenly, "you can kiss me whenever. Privately, I mean. I d-I don't think I'm ready to go public."
...oh.
"I'm not, either." Wraith glanced his way. He was looking out over the rooftops, some of the nervousness back in his eyes. "But since we're alone…"
She caught him on the cheekbone before he could turn his head. Somehow, despite all the random moments when kissing him would have seemed so easy, it was all she had the nerve for. "Thanks for the save," Wraith said.
Elliott stared, his blush returning. She gave him a second to recover, to think of whatever probably witty response his brain was scrambling to drag out. But...
“I...” Elliott cleared his throat, trying to push past the squeak that had entered his voice. “...I think you missed...?”
It was half attempt at a confident statement, half question. And it was so charmingly awkward that any nervousness Wraith might’ve felt melted away.
“Yeah,” she said, leaning a little closer. “Guess I did.”  
 There were a lot of blank spots in Wraith’s life. Maybe this was her first kiss...maybe it wasn’t. She had no way to knowing that, not until she finally remembered who she’d once been.
But it was her first kiss with Elliott, and it was gentle and it was theirs. So that was something special.
She kept her forehead pressed against Elliott’s when they pulled apart. He didn’t look nervous anymore, either; he was smiling, soft and stupid, the way he only seemed to smile around her. “Yeah,” Elliott said quietly. “You can definitely do that any time.”
Wraith laughed quietly. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll remember that.”
Just not on camera. And hopefully not after a near-miss like today’s.
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bahorell · 3 years
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Les Amis (& co.) and what they’re like camping
Enjolras: Is kinda scared of the woods. Also he’s that guy that really has a hard time putting his phone down because “I just have to respond to this one email”. “Yeah give me one second I’m dealing with a work thing”. “omg did you hear about what’s happening in Canada? It’s horrible those poor people” “Enj the point of this is to get away from everything for a couple days” “Right I know…”. So if there’s even one bar of service they gotta go find a different place. When he isn’t on his phone he’s very active in all his friends activities. He’s not super outdoors-y so he mostly tags along when other people do things. He’ll have Baz or Courf take him on rides on their paddle boards. He’ll tag along when Chetta and Ferre go on hikes. He’ll be Feuilly’s little helper person when Feuilly’s working on building the fire. Or he’ll just hand out with people at camp or on the beach of the lake/river and just talk.
Combeferre: Loves camping because of all the bugs and critters! Found the tiniest little frogs on the shore of the lake one time and made everybody look at them. Brings plant and animal and bug ID books with him and will take little leaves or flowers and stick them in the pages of the book when he thinks he found a match. He doesn’t usually snack too much when he’s at home but when he’s in the woods he is always eating something and it’s really when he’ll let himself just go balls to the wall with the junk food. The only thing he doesn’t really like about camping is that he doesn’t get to go on jogs in the morning because he’s smart enough to not run into the woods in the middle of nowhere with no service by himself.
Courfeyrac: Has an inflatable paddle board that he bought! He likes to play lifeguard and will paddle around to all his friends who are swimming and give them rides to shore. He likes to share his paddle board with his friends but he didn’t have enough money to buy a super super fancy one that has a large weight capacity so usually if someone else is on it with him it sinks into the water enough to stress him out. Also he shares a big tent with Combeferre and Enjolras and he likes to sleep in the middle of the two of them.
Joly: Invested in a super super cute small teardrop camping trailer a couple years ago. It’s easier for him to get in and out of than a tent or god forbid a hammock (Bahorel has to lift him into it then Joly wants to get in one… this is also partially because Bahorel sets up all the hammocks and they are p much impossible to get in unless you are also 6’7”) The inside of the camper is just a bed and the back hatch opens up to cabinets and drawers and a counter and stuff that makes a nice little make shift kitchen. He’ll set up the camp stove and the cooking area right next to it. He’s not super involved in any of the cooking it just gives him less stress when the food area is organized and the table legs are on a flat surface.
Jehan: Jehan tells the ghost stories. They aren’t very good at telling ghost stories so nobody really gets scared (except for Marius and if they’re really doing a good job Enj will get a little spooked). They also wake up with the sunrise so they’re up and ready to start the day at like 5am… and they really aren’t quiet about it so they manage to wake up 2/3 of everybody else at camp. Has more dietary needs than other people so when every one gets together to build a grocery list and meal plan for the trip they’ll make their own list. They really don’t mind because they HATE sharing snacks so having their own little baby cooler all to themselves is the best. Bousset: Somehow manages to have the most amazing balance and can get on and off Bahorel or Courf’s paddle boards like it’s nothing but when he gets in the canoe with anybody they somehow always tip it over within like 20 seconds. He is the opposite of Jehan he’ll sleep until like 2 in the afternoon if one of them doesn’t come to wake him up. He’s also usually in charge of getting all the booze together for the trip bc he’s very aware of what everyone likes to drink. He takes turns with Chetta sleeping in the trailer with Joly since not all three of them can fit. When he’s not sleeping in the tent he’s sharing a tent with Grantaire.
Feuilly: Fire guy. Loves the fire. Is always excited for the sun to go down so he can start the campfire. Will not take his eyes off the fire. I mean seriously. They once played never have I ever and when it got to be his turn they timed him to see how long it would take for him to realize it was his turn bc he was too busy staring at the fire to pay attention (it was a solid 4 minutes). Sleeps in a tiny little one person tent that would make anybody else claustrophobic but he LOVES it. He does set up a hammock right next to Bahorel’s. He doesn’t sleep in it but the two of them will take naps together in their hammocks. He also has to dowse his body in SPF 10000000000+ because he’s the whitest person ever, and somehow he still manages to get a sunburn on some part of his body.
Bahorel: He’s the guy thats super picky about the camp spot. “eh i mean this one is cool but it’s a little too close to the other campsite and I don’t wanna be that close to other people thats the point of this trip is to get away from everybody.” “This one WOULD be perfect but it doesn’t have good access to the lake so it’s gonna be hard for those of us that have boats to get down there” “Bahorel the boat ramp is like 1/8 of a kilometer away we can just walk down to that…” “i mean we COULD… but it just kinda sucks” Also Bahorel has this super nice hammock system with like a bug net and a rain tarp, he will not sleep on the ground because he is scared of bugs and also the baby boy likes getting rocked to sleep. He always follows Feuilly around when he’s looking for a place to put his tent and he’ll set up his hammock right next to him. And he WAILS to Feuilly when they get back home because his SKINCARE ROUTINE GOT MESSED UP FEUILLY OHHH MY GODDDD
Grantaire: Not super big on camping but if he’s with his friends he’s having fun. There’s something about being in the woods that makes him quiet… but not in a sad way. He feels really peaceful when he isn’t dealing with a bunch of people in a big city (Even tho he loves the city). He always brings stuff so that he can draw or paint the mountains or his friends on the lake but he usually doesn’t get enough time to really make anything more than a sketch. He’s not scared of water but he avoids going in the lake if it’s not a part of it that’s deeper than his tummy. He won’t get in the boats unless there’s a lot of coaxing (usually by Enj)
Marius: LOVES being in the woods. I mean really loves it. Surprisingly it’s usually Marius that sends out the text to the group chat that’s like “hey is everybody free in a couple weekends? I wanna go camping!” He just really doesn’t like going by himself or going with just one or two people. He wakes up super early as well and usually will sit with Jehan and share coffee waiting for everybody else to wake up. Sometimes the two of them will go on a little walk together. He winds down pretty early in the evening though since he wakes up so early and is usually ready for bed by like 8:45pm. He’s also that guy that wants to eat all the berries on the bushes they walk past and has almost given Combeferre a heart attack like 7 times.  
Eponine: She’s… alright to camp with. She gets kinda grumpy in the mornings because of how cold it is but she warms up (both temperature wise, but also her mood) once she’s eaten and it’s gotten warmer out. She really just likes to lay in one of the communal hammocks and read book after book. She’ll also tag along with Gavroche on a lot of his little adventures. When she’s not with Gavroche or letting Combeferre show her all the little bugs and cool plants he found, she just sunbathes. For HOURS straight. Going camping for her is just a really long fun weekend to get her tan on.
Cosette: She’s so fun to camp with!! She’s like… the best person to camp with. She always does the planning and researches everything there is to do at and near the campsite. She knows all the hiking trails nearby and what areas have service and which ones don’t. She knows which campsites have lake/river access. She also makes the best camp coffee. It’s really the only time she drinks coffee unless it’s like… finals week or she’s got an early flight or something. She also ALWAYS has to tell her dad where they’re going. She shares her location and route with him on the drive there and texts him to let him know she’s about to lose service and texts him the second she has a bar of service. He’s just very protective and she wants to make sure that he knows she’s safe. Plus if anything DOES happen he knows where she’s going and can come save the day.
Musichetta: She sleeps like the entire time she’s camping. She’ll wake up in the morning and move from her tent or the camper and go lay in one of the communal hammocks near the fire ring and doze off with her hot chocolate… which she has spilled a couple times. Once it warms up a little she’s walk down to the lake or river and lay down, get her tan on, and take a nap. One of her favorite things is to go on hikes with Combeferre. He’s one of the only people in the group that can keep up with her. If they go with other people usually by the time they reach the end of the trail the rest of the group is about 2 miles behind them. One of the best parts of camping for her is going home and showering after not showering for like 3 or 4 days.
Gavroche: Spends the entirety of the first day trying to find the perfect tree to put the perfect swing on. He also likes to try to find any big rocks near the campsite and go bouldering and run around on top of them. He still really has that childhood curiosity about everything and no fear. He’ll run off trail trying to find deer or elk. If he doesn’t get back home with a couple scratches or bruises he doesn’t consider it a good camping trip. He also will swim out to Bahorel’s paddle board and Bahorel will grab him out of the water and throw him back in. Gavroche thinks it’s the most fun thing in the world even though he’s growing really fast and it’s taking a little bit more muscle every year for Bahorel to throw him as far as Gav wants him to.
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Missed You This Much
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AN: So apparently I am a porn director now. This literally has no plot whatsoever and if my grandma were still alive I’d certainly get an earful for it buuuuuuut I thought you guys might enjoy.
Word count: 4.6k (go off)
Warnings: ALL the warnings, this is literal filth like I’m talking about unprotected sex, choking, size kink kinda, sex toys and overstimulation in a way that takes doing the dirty literal (not even gonna mention the language at this point) - obviously nsfw below the cut
- Have fun ya filthy animals (and wrap it before you tap it!) -
His hand on your back was slowly but surely becoming unbearable.
You wanted to curse the idiot that had the absolutely genius idea of having a team event the night of the boys’ return from a long trip in a way that would make every single sailor on this planet blush worse than anything your Orgasm blush from NARS could ever achieve. And you loved that blush to death.
But instead of taking your beautiful and amazing boyfriend straight to bed like you had wanted to since the day he’d left – which was 10 long days ago by the way – you had to put on a full face and bear mingling with the executives all night. More than one time you’d thought of somewhat inconspicuous ways to sneak off with your boyfriend so you could have your way with him but to your dismay nothing had worked out.
From the looks of it Mikko wasn’t doing any better. More than one time his hand had rested a bit lower on your back than what could possibly be considered acceptable in public. The back of your dress, or rather the lack thereof, had allowed him to feel you up in a way that had gotten you from 0 to 100 real quick.
Usually you weren’t one to get riled up quite like that by the simple action of his palm right above your ass but something had been in the air tonight. Perhaps it was because you hadn’t gotten to trail your hands over his glorious naked skin in way too long but something about the way his hand spanned the entire width of your lower back had you mentally panting at the mere memory of the way it had felt.
It didn’t exactly help that Mikko had stepped into the location looking like an absolute snack. All 6’4” of him were wrapped in your favorite suit and the smile that had lit up his face as soon as he had spotted you with some of the other wives and girlfriends had lit the room in a way that no chandelier could.
He’d worn the tie you’d tied for him before the trip because he still refused to do it himself even though you’d long taught him and it brought a smile to your lips that rivaled his own. Because you were in a public place there wasn’t a heated make out session to welcome him back but the way he had hugged you close after a short but sweet kiss with your face nestled against his chest in a way that wouldn’t ruin the look you had carefully curated for the night was no less affectionate.
The next hours had been nothing short of torture, you could see it on everyone’s faces. While the guys (and girls for that matter) usually didn’t mind the mingling and networking that was the norm for such events it was more than obvious that tonight no one was in the mood for it. Everyone just wanted to celebrate the successful road trip that had just come to an end, preferably in a bedroom if one were to ask you.
By the time it was finally acceptable to make an exit Mikko had practically dragged you towards the car, barely taking his time to ask where you’d even parked it. He had to slow down eventually though because you were no match to his incredibly long stride in your heels.
You’d gotten lots of smug looks on your way out – Josty, Burky and JT even going as far as to cat call the two of you in front of everyone – but you knew that it was only out of envy. Gabe had only barely managed to not say anything and that was only because Mel and him were antsy to get out of there themselves.
Sitting in the passenger seat gave you the freedom to let your thoughts wander to what was about to come, making you shudder in anticipation. Mikko noticed, of course, and his right hand immediately inched up from its usual place on your mid-thigh to the very top. You were convinced that if your dress would allow it you’d already have him where you needed him the most but unfortunately you’d only thought of the way it made your body look and not how practical it would be.
His white-knuckled tight grip on the steering wheel revealed that he himself was already further along in the timeline of the night in his mind and in the dim lighting from the interior and the passing city lights you could definitely see that he was already beginning to strain against his pants. For a minute you contemplated asking him to pull over and to just have his way with you right here in the car, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, but you wanted to savor this night and not rush it.
Besides, no matter how big Mikko’s car was, there was just no way to actually do it in here comfortably, backseat included.
So you waited, rather less than more patient, and endured what would arguably be the most charged minutes of your life so far.
The second Mikko pulled into the designated parking spot of your shared apartment the both of you couldn’t make it to your door fast enough. In a mad dash you practically ran to the elevator and since it basically was the middle of the night neither of you gave a shit that there might actually be someone else in this building that could set a foot in the elevator. Thankfully no one did but the two of you still put on quite a show.
Mikko had you pressed against a wall, one leg pushed in between yours and hands gripping your face tightly as he practically devoured you right there in the tiny metal box. You were moaning already, so needy and touch-starved from the past few days and the racked up anticipation from the past few hours. Your hands had already managed to loosen his tie and to push his jacket off his shoulders by the time the little bell announced that you had reached your floor.
It was times like this that made you incredibly thankful for modern technology because instead of fumbling around with a key, something that would have definitely taken an amount of tries in the double digits between the two of you in your current state, you only had to hold up your key card to the scanner before the door opened and you were finally home.
Mikko had left his bags in the car, something you were grateful for right now because it allowed you to continue where you left off earlier without a hassle but you would definitely regret as soon as you had to wash his sweaty gym clothes after the delay. He didn’t even let you get a step into your apartment before pushing you up against the back of your front door while somehow kicking off his shoes at the same time.
“I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea”, he practically growled against your skin as he dropped his head to suck along your neck while simultaneously sneaking one hand around your body to find the zipper of your dress.
“Oh yeah? Ho much exactly?”, you teased back but the light tone you had intended to use was lost because of the way his lips made you whimper. He grabbed your right hand with his free one and shoved it down towards his crotch where the outline of him now fully erect was threatening to rip the seam of his pants.
“This much. Feel how hard you make me babe.”
And feel you did.
He groaned as you made contact, slowly running your nails over the fabric the way you knew drove him absolutely wild. Unfortunately you couldn’t keep doing that forever, otherwise you’d get nowhere tonight because you needed both hands to unbutton his shirt. He had located your zipper by now as well and was hurriedly pushing it down, only stepping back far enough to access it before crowding you back against the wood as he pulled the fabric down.
You stepped out of your dress, careful for it to not get caught up in your heels and immediately Mikko took the chance to explore every inch of newly exposed skin with his hands. You couldn’t let him have all the fun though because you had finally – finally – unbuttoned his shirt all the way. The city lights streaming in through the window made any additional lighting unnecessary as you took in the beautiful body of your boyfriend.
The Sistine Chapel had nothing on him and his body belonged right up there with ‘The Starry Night’ and ‘The Kiss’, every inch of creamy skin just as beautiful as anything a master of the arts could possibly create. You could get lost in his broad shoulders, and you often did, but seeing him tonight after so much time apart was truly something special.
“If you don’t do anything but stare at me real fast I’m going to spank you woman”, his voice was low and his tone revealed that he was only somewhat serious but nevertheless you took a step closer until your bodies touched again. Even with heels on he was still so much taller than you so you had to stand on your very tippy toes and pull him down towards you at the same time so you could whisper in his ear:
“We both know that I wouldn’t object to that, it wouldn’t be the first time after all.”
His groan was music to your ears and you squealed as he swiftly picked you up like you weighed nothing and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. You were closer to eye level like this and Mikko’s mouth immediately found yours as he held you close, his strong arms never once making you doubt his ability to manhandle you without incident. He would rather thro himself on the floor to cushion your fall than drop you.
Only a close to unhealthy amount of practice in this particular aspect of foreplay made your journey to the bedroom safe. The first few times had definitely resulted in a few bumps and bruises but neither you had cared at the time, too distracted with everything else going on.
What no one might suspect was the fact that your usually uncoordinated and constantly-stumbling boyfriend was anything but in all things bedroom. He had a kind of control over his body that most men could only dream of and to say you were excited to get to experience it again first-hand tonight was probably the understatement of the century.
With an air of expertise that made you think he was paid to do this instead of chasing a puck across ice he flicked on the one lamp you liked to turn on during sex because of the warm glow it created without even breaking the kiss. He was still wearing his pants and on the way here they had created some delicious friction but now he was sitting down on the edge of the bed with you still perched on his lap.
His hands had taken a hold of your ass and he was helping you to slowly grind against him, the both of you so far gone already by now.
“Did you think of me while I was gone?” While his question might sound sweet to the unknowing ear, you knew what he was playing at.
“Yes Mik, multiple times. I really tried but nothing feels as good as when you’re with me.” He knew this already because he’d gotten his fair share of pictures but you were more than happy to provide an answer.
“Oh yeah? Did you touch yourself thinking about the time we did it in the kitchen right before I left?” Even if it weren’t for his hands slowly outlining your lacy bra and barely grazing your nipples you couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped your lips at his words.
You had – in fact – thought about the way he’d taken you on the kitchen counter that faithful morning and the images that now flooded your thoughts again had you literally dripping. Mikko could feel it too, the way you were drenching his pants and underwear right now and while it was annoying that you had to take yet another suit to the dry cleaners to get rid of the stain his strangled moan was everything.
Then it was a frantic dash to rid him of his clothes as soon as possible as you both got up and you pulled down his slacks and boxers in one swoop, discarding both in some corner already forgotten.
You literally sighed at the sight of him now in his full naked glory before you, every inch of his muscular build exposed. It didn’t matter how many times you’d touched, sucked or felt his dick already, there was still always this moment of ‘oh my god’ whenever he dropped his pants. It made sense actually, Mikko was a huge guy so it shouldn’t really be a surprise that his dick was proportionate to his body but to see it in real life was something else entirely. To see it bouncing against his abdomen had your thoughts running a mile a minute and now you were more than impatient to feel full again.
It was as if he felt your anticipation but wanted to be a little shit about it because he now took his time in undressing you, dropping your bra straps at a pace that would have made a snail proud. It was sensual, of course, but you really needed him to hurry up right this second. You didn’t even know where he had suddenly found all of this self-control but you cursed whichever brain cells of his that were responsible for your misery.
An ice-age later he had finally rid you of the scrappy piece of fabric, eagerly exploring your boobs as if he hadn’t seen them over a hundred times already. He pushed you back onto the bed so you were spread out before him but when he moved to take your panties off at the same pace you finally drew the line.
“Mikko please, I just really really need you inside me. Like right now.”
He must have seen the desperation in your eyes because he finally let up, pulling your panties down at an acceptable speed and moving to hover over you. You thought you’d finally get your long-time wish but then he pulled back.
“Actually, can we try something?”, he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Babe we can try anything you want right now as long as it means that I’ve got your dick inside of me within the next ten seconds.”
You almost thought he’d waste some of his precious given time with making a dirty joke like you knew he wanted to but instead he just moved towards your nightstand. Since you’d ditched condoms in favor of birth control a while ago and you were so dripping wet that you could probably cure the Californian drought so there really was no need for lube right now you knew there was nothing of value in those drawers, or so you thought. The same gleam was still in Mikko’s eyes when he turned back around to face you and you instantly recognized the item in his hand.
“I’ve thought about incorporating this ever since you sent me that one picture at the beginning of the trip. Needless to say I’ve had a couple of rough days behind me.”
Excitement bubbled up inside you and now the look in your eyes matched his. Mikko wasn’t one of those guys that got intimidated by sex toys and he’d even tried some of yours on you but you’d never actually used one during sex.
“I think I came up with a way how to best do this”, he mumbled as he stepped closer to you and you motioned for him to go ahead so he could show you the ropes. To your surprise he settled against the headboard of your bed, legs spread out in front of him. So far you weren’t really sure what his plan was exactly. He motioned for you to come closer and you obliged but as you moved to straddle his lap like you often did he stopped you.
“No babe, the other way.” His hands gently guided your hips and helped you straddle his thighs with your back facing his chest and your knees on either side of him. You moved to stroke him while the other hand dropped to fondle his balls but he quickly caught your wrists in his hands, effectively ceasing all movement. “Don’t please, I already won’t be able to last as long as I want to.”
With one swift movement Mikko lifted your hips off his thighs and moved you so you could align yourself and then he was finally inside you. Sinking down on him was already a feat in itself but with the change of position you could feel him reaching places that made your mind go blank. The both of you simultaneously groaned once he finally bottomed out and you took a couple of seconds to adjust to him filling you up like this.
Once his grip on your hips grew even tighter you knew you had to move or else your boyfriend would lose every ounce of self-control that was still left at this point. He gently guided you along as you slowly rotated your hips, the both of you moaning already. He took his time covering your neck and shoulders in kisses and every few seconds you could feel his teeth grazing your skin when he had to stop himself from just pounding up into you while you were still finding your groove.
“Look up babe, I want you to watch yourself”, he murmured in your ear and you slowly raised your head to meet his eyes in the mirror that was strategically placed across your bedroom. It had done you many good deeds already but tonight it was on a whole other level. This position was becoming one of your fast favorites already but to be able to watch Mikko lose himself in you was what would make this night so very memorable.
You watched his right hand pat around on the comforter before finding what he had been looking for, the silver vibe. The anticipation made you clench around him and he groaned and you wondered what it would be like once you both finally got to experience the real deal but thankfully you didn’t have to wait much longer until you’d find out.
Mikko kept the slow grinding pace that allowed him to go so incredibly deep as he switched on the vibe, it’s soft vibrations filling the room with a different kind of noise. He slowly raised it to your chest, first teasing one and then the other nipple with it while you couldn’t help the moans tumbling out of your mouth. Once he deemed the amount of attention your breasts had gotten enough for now he tapped the vibe against your lips. “Suck”, was his only command and obediently you opened your lips to wet the toy.
You tracked his movements in the mirror as he slowly dropped his hand towards where you needed it. The moment the vibe connected to your clit was honestly life changing. You immediately arched your back, trying to get more of that amazing feeling between your legs.
Mikkos left hand immediately shot up and wrapped itself around your neck, his long fingers engulfing it almost completely and effectively holding you still as he moved the vibe away.
“Oh God, Mikko more, please give me more”, you practically sobbed, begging him to continue.
“Shhh babe”, he soothed you before scooting the both of you away from the headboard a little. Then he leaned back again, his hand on your throat giving you no choice but to follow him so you were both now leaned back at an angle. With wild eyes you watched him move the vibe closer again and he obliged, placing the vibe back onto your clit while never once faltering in the agonizing but amazing pace at which he was grinding into you.
The change in angle had him grinding against your g spot and now your orgasm was coming at you with lightning speed. Mikko could tell so like the good boyfriend he was he kept doing the exact same thing while you tried to mentally prepare for the absolute tsunami that was about to crash over you.
With one last thrust from him the wave finally crested and your mind literally went blank as you thrashed in his lap, only his hand stopping you from entering a whole other dimension. It felt as if the high would never end and with the vibe still buzzing against your most sensitive part and Mikko keeping up his pace you had only barely come down when your second orgasm hit, detonating like a bomb yet again.
Mikko was moaning loudly below you, trying his best not to blow his load as your walls spasmed around him for the second time and almost failing but somehow pulling through. You had drenched his entire lap and he could feel the slow trickle of your juices down the sides of his thighs, not that he minded.
After two close orgasms like this you needed a second to regroup so you weakly pushed his hand with the vibrator away, the sensation too much now. All energy had left your body and you were a ragdoll in his lap, panting like you’d just crossed the finish line at a marathon.
“Holy fuck Y/N, that was… just wow. Do you want me to take over?”, he asked, knowing full well that you weren’t able to stay on top like this right now. You couldn’t even form any coherent sentences right now if you tried so you only nodded, allowing him to lift you off of him and set you on the mattress so only your ass was in the air.
“You look so good like this, I think about you every second when I’m gone. You’re always on my mind.”
You reached back and Mikko knew exactly what you needed, lacing your hands with his own and dropping them next to you before carefully entering you again. The first few times he’d been worried to continue after you were in your blissful post-orgasm state but you’d explained him many times that you liked being at his complete mercy like this, for him to basically use you in whichever way he wanted to.
So when he bottomed out in you once again you only led out a blissful sigh, happy to have him so close to you. He moved slow but calculated, hitting deep every time before pulling out all the way only to enter him once again. He kept this pace for a while, giving you enough time to pull yourself together a little after the mind-blowing ordeal you had just been through.
“You think you got one more in you?”, he asked, voice definitely strained from keeping this antagonizing pace for so long.
“Let’s find out.” He let go of one hand to reach for the vibe again, setting it on a lower setting than it had been before so you could ease back into it.
“Can you hold it yourself babe?” He dropped it into your hand then, moving to settle both of his hands on your hips. You shifted a little until you found a comfortable position where you could reach down and let out a content groan as soon as you felt the vibrations again. You’d thought that you would be too spent for this by now but to your surprise you were actually holding up pretty well, an orgasm just below the horizon.
Mikko slammed into you then, pulling out a little before bottoming out again on the next thrust, both of your moans far louder than the little vibrator in your hand. You arched your back as he kept up his almost brutal pace, his hands tightening with every thrust and you were sure he’d leave bruises yet again but you certainly didn’t mind with the amount of pleasure he was currently giving you.
It didn’t take long until the combination of his powerful thrusts and the vibrations on your clit had you teetering towards the edge yet again.
“Mikko I’m so close”, you panted, slightly worried that he wouldn’t hear you over the sound of everything happening right now.
“No. Not yet. Hold it back and wait for me, I want to feel you pulse around me.”
His demand was clear and yet you let out a frustrated whine because your orgasm was right there and you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could stop it from approaching.
The stutter in his thrusts gave you hope because it meant that he wasn’t far behind you either so you turned your head so you could watch him in the mirror. His bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth and his brows were slightly knit as he chased his orgasm in desperation, every muscle in his body flexed tightly.
“Fuck baby cum for me now”, he rasped out and you finally let yourself fall over the edge, loud moans tumbling out of your mouth as he thrust inside you one, two, three more times before burying himself inside you and throwing his head back in pleasure with a guttural groan. His jaw went slack as he stilled inside you, filling you up with his cum and only heightening the sensations of your own orgasm. It was as if someone had exchanged your blood for gasoline, heat racing through your entire body and leaving everything heightened and trembling.
Your legs gave out from under you and Mikko followed you down onto the mattress but careful not to crush you with his weight. For a few moments you just lay there, the both of you basking in what had just happened. You let out a content hum as he reached up to brush your hair out of your face, his soft touch in such stark contrast to his bruising grip only seconds ago.
But that was the thing about your boyfriend, he might go crazy in the bedroom sometimes – which you obviously loved – but he was still the gentle giant you had fallen in love with all those months ago. And you’d endure all the height difference jokes in the world if it meant that he would stay with you forever.
Your sweet and mushy thoughts were slowly but surely interrupted by a buzz and both Mikko and you turned towards the source of the noise, him still deep inside you but slowly softening. He picked up the small vibe that you must have carelessly discarded at some point during your orgasm and switched it off. Carefully he pulled out of you and you already missed the feeling but took his outstretched hand to help you stand nevertheless.
Mikko raised the now turned off toy towards his face before saying:
“You have been a trusty friend and we’ll definitely use you again but first this beautiful young lady and I have to shower. I hope that’s okay for you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was actually having a conversation with a sex toy because it was so typical of him. And you wouldn’t have him, or this, any other way.
 AN Part 2: I 10/10 recommend trying all of the above ;)
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kenanda · 3 years
Note
For the smut prompt a lonelyeyes mix of 106, 111 and 127? If you want only.
This took a while, but it was just too good a prompt not to give it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it.
Happy belated birthday!! Consider this your gift from moi <3 🎁🎉
prompt 106. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?” prompt 111. “You have no idea how much I want you.” prompt 127. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
CRAVING Rating: EXPLICIT Words: 5,7k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Tim Stoker; Martin Blackwood; Gertrude Robinson (mention); Jurgen Leitner (mention). Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Smut; PWP; Mutual Pining; Fluff; Sweet; Masturbating; Cock sucking; Handjobs; Scent Kink; Fingering; Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk; Banter; Wearing the other's clothes; Doting Parents!LonelyEyes; unbeta'd; Tim and Martin are their kids AGAIN
Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!
Filthy, FILTHY LonelyEyes below the cut, my beloved. It's official, this is now a Verse.
Ever since they became parents, Peter and Elias haven’t known what alone time is anymore. Life is a jolly mess most of the time, with all things required for the rearing of two children. Even if the boys are now a bit older and can shoulder small responsibilities, it still seems like too much is going on at once.
Some days are more hectic than others, which often sends the two men to bed at 10PM feeling like they could sleep for days. Work hasn’t been any better in allowing for a break — Peter’s schedule has him away for months every now and again, and Elias can hardly ever catch a break from the Institute (he’s the Head, after all).
Needless to say, it all takes a toll on their love life. They can count in one hand the number of times they’ve had a weekend for themselves in the past few years. When they want sex, it’s always rushed and quiet, afraid that one of the kids will wake up because of a nightmare and ask to sleep with them.
Elias misses the days when he and Peter would go on long dates and weekend trips; catches himself thinking about those every once in a while, of how they would spare a day to stay in their room talking and getting each other off. They aren’t that young and horny anymore, but there’s still enough of that old spark that Elias will sometimes get turned on merely watching Peter doing mundane stuff, like doing the dishes.
To think that they didn’t get along at first. Elias chuckles whenever he remembers the first time they were together. Peter had been a cocky bastard, but Elias had been cockier and given Peter one hell of a show. Elias still has the eye tattoo on his stomach, but he had removed the nipple piercings once he’d started working. Peter had been so impressed by them, he had played and pulled on them with his teeth once they actually went on a proper date.
Elias lets out a nostalgic sigh.
“Everything alright?” Peter asks over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Elias breathes. “Fine. Just reminiscing about stuff.”
“Such as…?” Peter rinses a bowl of oatmeal.
“That time you used to be more of an insufferable arse.”
Peter snorts. “You’re one to talk, love.”
Elias can’t help a smile. “We turned out alright. Sometimes though, I miss those days.”
Peter’s disbelief is visible even from his back. “Really!? We used to be swamped all the time, and there was that professor, Jonah- Wouldn’t leave you alone. I think he wanted to — what was it he used to say — see you.”
Elias shudders with a disgusted noise and gets up. He circles Peter’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder, pressing their bodies flush enough that there’s no mistaking that he’s half-hard. Peter drops a spoon in the sink with a clatter.
“Oh, wow, hello there.”
Elias giggles. “I miss you,” he whispers. He gives Peter’s nape a slow, open mouthed kiss, causing the larger man to shiver.
“Elias…”
“I know, I know.” Elias pauses, buries his nose into Peter's neck, where his silver hair has grown past his ear. He smells so good. “I could take a day off tomorrow. We could ask Gertie to keep an eye on the boys over the weekend. She’s always delighted to see them.”
After the beach incident in which they had met, Gertrude Robinson had become a dear friend of the family. She and her husband (an old scholar with a booming voice and a gentle face called Jurgen) had a massive library and a collection of items from all over the world. The boys always returned home with strange facts about books and places of which neither Peter or Elias had ever heard. Gertrude also had a grandchild a year older than Martin, Jon, whom Martin had (at the tender age of seven) sworn to marry.
Peter thinks about it for a moment, but doesn’t sound too hopeful in his reply. “They’ll need me at work tomorrow. I already said I’d be there, and it could take a while.”
“Can’t always have it all...”
Peter turns around and holds Elias’s face to give him a kiss. Elias struggles at first because Peter’s hands are covered in suds, but eventually gives in. The kiss is slow and warm; if he isn't careful, Elias can easily get carried away with it. Peter’s growing beard is ticklish, but when it slides down his jaw and neck, Elias has to stifle a whimper.
“I’m sorry, love.”
Elias shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”
That’s not to say Elias’s body will just quit the yearning — it becomes quite self-evident when Peter pulls away and Elias is half-tempted to chase his lips.
But then one of the kids calls him and he needs to go. It's like that the whole day.
Elias only gets some blessed alone time with his husband before bed. Peter pulls him into a hug and they kiss until they have to stop before it gets too hot to ignore. Elias grabs Peter’s hand when it slides between them, because one thing will certainly lead to another.
“Pretty please?” Peter pouts. It looks outrageous on him and Elias barks out a laugh.
Peter smiles, but it fades into something else — something charged. They are kissing again before they know it, and it’s insane how well Peter fits between his legs. The weight of his larger body on top of him, pressing down where it feels so good, has Elias wrapping both legs around his waist and using them for leverage. Peter hums in approval.
At least, Elias is not alone in his lust. Peter is usually quieter about his wants and needs, but once he’s into it, he’s ready to go all the way. Perhaps Elias should’ve been more careful, because now he has to live with the knowledge that Peter is right there and that he wants it just as bad as Elias.
They are humping through their clothes and Elias is ready to make a mess of his pants just like that when there’s a yell from down the hall. Elias’s head snaps up and he all but tosses Peter off of him to leap up and grab his robes.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
“Is it Martin again,” Peter rubs his eyes tiredly, pulling a pillow over his clothed erection.
“Coming! Daddy is coming!” Elias yells back.
Afterwards, they cuddle in shared frustration until they fall asleep. When Elias wakes up the next morning, Peter’s boner is poking his arse, so he gives it a wistful little press. Peter groans and holds Elias there with an arm around his waist. Peter grinds up and Elias huffs into the pillow.
“Wanna finish what we started?”
“Be late for work,” Elias points out. Peter swears, but lets him go.
They’re out an hour later; Elias drops the kids off and heads to work. Heavy clouds of sleep deprivation and sexual frustration hang ominously above his head.
Thankfully, work is something he can lose himself in. He’s good at what he does and there’s something soothing about all those Excel sheets. Coupled with the steady hum of the AC, they almost make Elias forget his troubles.
But then he sees the flyer for this new jazz café that had opened a few months ago, where he had intended to take Peter on a date but never managed to make time, and his face falls. Damn, he misses his husband’s presence, his silly jokes and ridiculous sailor stories.
Lunch hour comes in a blink; Elias is poking a fork into his salad with an utter lack of enthusiasm when his phone chirps with an incoming message. He wipes his mouth and sees that it’s from Peter.
It’s a picture of Peter standing in front of a tall restroom mirror. He’s wearing the big old ratty coat he’d left with this morning, but it’s pulled halfway to the side to reveal Peter’s hand clutching the sizable girth of him through his grey slacks.
Elias chokes on lettuce.
What’s the meaning of this???
Been thinking of you. A lot. — is Peter’s swift reply.
Well, Elias has too, but not to this extent. Can I call you?
Peter calls him instead. “Hey.”
“Are you mad!? I’m in the middle of work!”
Peter laughs. “You talk as if you don’t have a cushy office all to yourself to play as you wish.”
“Yes, at least I can say that. You on the other hand, you’ve got a bloody crew swarming you every day.”
“I’m not on the ship right now. And there are stalls here.”
“You’re hiding in the loo?!”
“Had to. Wouldn’t stop thinking of you. Now, do you want to play?”
“You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing. What if someone comes in?”
There’s something hot and heavy about Peter's chuckle that makes Elias shudder. “A while ago, you’d be the first to say fuck it.”
“Well, apparently one of us has grown past that.”
“I bet you wouldn’t refuse if you could see how hard I am right now.”
It’s a bait. Elias knows it’s a cheap bait and that he’s gonna fall straight for it if he isn't careful. When he reaches down, he notices that he’s hard too. Shit.
“I’m not gonna do this. Bloody hell, not in the middle of work. Fucking Rosie could walk in. Did you know I have a reputation to maintain?” Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “This can wait until we’re home.”
“We won’t have time then,” Peter replies. “And I miss you too, you know.”
Elias makes a pained little noise. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. But this will wait. We’ll figure it out.”
“How much? Show me.”
"Peter," Elias warns.
Peter gives it up with a breathy laugh. "Okay," he whispers. “See you at home. Love you.”
“You too.”
Apparently, Elias’ ability to stick to reason is intact even with his horny-addled brain. He lets out a deep exhale after the call is over.
The next ten minutes are spent willing his boner to go down by and focusing on work. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages. It gives him a headache for the rest of the day and much to think about — and even more to look forward to.
Unfortunately for both, Peter shoots him a message later on telling Elias that he will be home late and not to wait for him. The boys are disappointed, because it was film night and Peter had promised to watch Return of the King with them. Elias is sad, too; Peter had come back from three months at sea not a week ago, but again they have to be apart.
Elias helps the kids with homework and gets on a work call that drags on for an hour, which only serves to worsen his headache.
During dinner, Elias is taken aback by how observant his youngest is. Martin’s Daddy must be wearing his sourest look, for it prompts the boy to pat Elias’ hand (exactly how Peter does when someone’s upset) and tell him:
“Don’t be sad, Daddy. Dad will be home soon and then you can complain to him about work.”
Elias nearly chokes on food the second time that day. Tim chimes in.
“Yeah, dad. Don’t worry about it. The old man knows what he’s doing.” And without missing a beat, with those big brown eyes of his. “Can I play before bed?”
“Definitely not. You’ll wake up cranky tomorrow.” Tim pouts, tries again, but Elias’s word is final (even if he feels soft after their comforting words). “Thank you, boys. I know how much you look forward to movie night. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”
Tim shrugs, digging into his pasta. Martin is quick to come up with a solution.
“Can you read for us, daddy?”
That catches Tim’s attention. Elias crosses both hands over the table.
“Oh? What would you like me to read?”
Martin leaps out of the chair and thrusts a tomato-sauce covered spoon up in the air. “The adventures of the incredible Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End!” he roars.
Tim rolls his eyes.
It doesn’t take them long to sleep with Elias reading The Hobbit. Well, it doesn’t take Tim long to sleep (he’s heard this story countless times before and it's a favourite, even if now he says it's for babies) — Martin is paying close attention and interrupting Elias every now and again to ask questions. When the youngest finally drifts off, Elias tucks him in and puts the book back on the shelf.
Tim is almost as tall as Elias now, but Elias can still pick him up from Martin’s bed and carry him to his own bedroom. For someone who wanted to play video games and rolled his eyes at their book choice, his oldest fell asleep very swiftly.
Elias clears the dinner table, does the dishes and puts the rest of the food away. It’s a little past 10PM now and Peter is still not home. Elias only hopes nothing bad has happened (especially after today’s surprise).
Elias finally has a chance to shower and spends five minutes just letting the hot water spray massage his back. He considers touching himself — the awareness that he could use an orgasm and that now is the perfect time to achieve it is very present within him — but before he comes to a decision, he’s already stepped out of the bathroom.
Peter’s sleep t-shirt seems to eye him from the bed as Elias pats himself dry. Should he? After all, why not? He misses the old fool.
Elias pulls the t-shirt on and has to suppress a laugh at how silly he looks, greying brown curls plastered to his forehead and lean body looking too small in that tee — Peter is many sizes larger than him, so the item reaches halfway down his thighs. Elias pulls on some underwear and crawls into bed with a book. The t-shirt is so large that he has to keep adjusting it lest it falls below his shoulder.
For the first hour, Elias tries to read. He really, really does. But perhaps wearing Peter’s clothes hadn’t been his brightest idea. The item is soaked in Peter’s scent, which is positively distracting. Elias catches himself reading the same line three times and lets out a frustrated groan.
“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”
Elias shoves the book onto the bedside table and ducks beneath the duvets, lying on his side. He’ll make this as quick as he can and then he’ll go the fuck to sleep.
He runs a hand down his chest, but it feels more perfunctory than pleasant. When it's Peter doing it, it has Elias shivering in no time. Elias closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to think of how it feels when Peter rubs a rough palm over his nipples and kisses his belly until he squirms.
Elias has left the door open and his ears peeled to any sounds of little steps in the hallway, so it takes a while to concentrate on the ways his body is reacting.
Eventually though, it becomes easier — there have been no steps, no sounds but the soft little puffs of air that he’s letting out. One of his hands is rubbing a nipple through the t-shirt and the other is cupping his cock. Pleasure finally takes over when he presses that hand down his pelvis and a shiver runs up his body, arching his back.
Elias slips a hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps it around his cock to pull back the skin. It’s getting hot and damp under the duvets, but Elias doesn’t plan to make this long. Just a bit more and he’ll come.
A twist of his wrist has him shuddering and letting out a breathy curse. Elias pulls the too-large shirt up to his nose and takes a big inhale. His mind is filled with Peter and he darts a tongue out for a taste, but gets none.
Still, he has had Peter in his mouth times enough to remember his taste. It makes Elias wet at the tip. He’s so close, so fucking close — but he’s also tempted to keep edging himself; keep thinking of all the things he wishes Peter would do to him. It’s been too fucking long, and he knows that if he doesn’t give his body what it wants every once in a while, it will just keep coming back to bother him.
But then again, the mess… And he’s so close, so, so close. Just a bit more, just drown out everything else.
Elias is so lost in his chase that doesn’t hear it when the front door clicks open; nor when a heavy coat is hung on the hallway pegs; doesn’t notice some of the lights being turned on and off, and is completely oblivious to the figure standing on the threshold and the socked steps that carry the man inside.
Elias only notices that Peter has arrived home when the duvet is gently pulled back and Peter’s smiling face pokes into his line of view — but by the time Peter has let out a soft “hey darling, what are you doing” Elias has already let out a blood-curdling scream and punched him in the face.
Peter falls flat on his bum with an expletive. “Jesus! What the fuck, Elias!”
Elias clutches his chest, breathing hard. “Oh- Oh Lord Jesus. My heart, my poor heart.” He turns to Peter with murder in his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like that?!”
Peter gets up, rubbing his sore bum. “I didn’t exactly try to sneak in, maybe you just didn’t hear me. I wasn’t particularly trying to be quiet. What the hell are you doing still up anyway?”
Elias ignores him. He snaps his head to the hallway. “Do you think the kids heard it?”
Peter shrugs, still sore.
“Get on!”
Peter grudgingly goes to check on the kids, but comes back shaking his head. Elias falls back into bed with a relieved sigh. Peter takes up a spot near the edge.
“What are you doing up? It’s way past midnight.”
Elias then remembers that his (now very much limp) dick is still out under the duvets. “Nothing much, I was just reading.”
“You were reading under the covers in the dark.”
Elias nods.
Peter isn’t convinced, but that gives way to a confused frown. “Hold on, is that my t-shirt?”
Elias looks down as if he hadn’t realised he had been wearing it. “Huh. I guess.”
Peter’s frown deepens. He touches the duvet. Elias clutches it and holds it down on reflex. Peter’s mouth opens in an accusing “oh!”
Peter can be very stubborn when he sets his mind upon something. This time, said something happens to be getting the covers out of the way.
Elias curls in on himself and burrows deeper into the duvet, but Peter (the cheap bastard that he is) resorts to tickling. Elias muffles an ugly laugh into the pillow. Peter is laughing too.
“Stop! Fuck, I’ll show you, stop!” Elias wheezes. Peter’s laughter dies off. He combs Elias’s damp hair backwards and kisses his cheek.
Elias sits up and pulls the duvet aside, feeling completely undignified. His cock is poking out above the underwear, but at least the t-shirt is covering it.
It’s enough for Peter to put two and two together.
“Were you masturbating?”
“No. Like I said, I was reading.”
Peter reaches for the hem of the shirt. Elias grabs his hand. “I said I was reading.”
Peter drops it, lets his hand fall to Elias’s thigh. A moment later, he gives it a squeeze. “Want some help?”
Elias narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the clock. Way, way past midnight.
The squeeze is back, travelling upwards. In spite of his better judgement, Elias’s legs fall open to give it more access and he sighs in defeat. So much for a steely resolve.
Peter slides a palm under the shirt but doesn’t get the item out of the way. Rather, he caresses Elias’s stomach and lower pelvis. Elias shivers deliciously; he’d been dreaming of this all day.
“You’ve been holding back a lot today,” Peter points out after Elias gets hard with just some light teasing. Peter hasn’t even touched his cock.
Elias wiggles to get Peter to touch him, slides down the bed. The invitation is clear enough, but Peter seems to be waiting for a verbal one. “I was being a sensible adult.”
Peter smiles. “Thought you’d like a bit of sexting. You used to love it back in uni.”
Elias had always been weak to Peter’s eyes, especially when they’re looking at him as if he’s something to be slowly savoured and then swallowed. Elias rolls his hips, staring at Peter’s hand on his inner thigh. The movement almost makes it touch his cock, but misses it for a few inches. Elias huffs in frustration.
“Thought you said you were going to help.”
“I can only help if you tell me what you want.”
Elias rolls his eyes at him. Peter waits happily.
“Touch me.”
“Where?”
“My cock.” Elias wants to punch him when Peter merely raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Touch my cock, please?”
If that doesn’t do it, Elias is getting a divorce. To his delight, it awakens something in Peter that makes his eyes go dark with lust.
“Fuck, yes. But it’s too dry- Where’s the-” Elias passes him the lube before Peter finishes the sentence. “Love you.”
Peter squirts some lube onto his palms and rubs them together. They’re cool when they touch Elias’s inner thighs and drag down, massaging the region and getting it all wet.
Elias sighs, eyes fluttering momentarily. He can’t help but roll his hips to ease some of the tension. He’s so hard and Peter is taking so long — but when he finally does it, Elias hisses through clenched teeth.
“Feels good, love?”
Elias bites his lower lip, chin tucked to his chest as he watches that big fist pumping wetly around his cock. Only the glistening head is visible, hot red and ready to shoot. Peter rubs a thumb under his frenulum and Elias sees stars.
“Ah, shit,” he sobs, grabbing fistfuls of the too large t-shirt and fucking into Peter’s fist, because the squeeze is so damn good.
Will Peter mind if Elias sniffs his shirt? Fuck it. Elias balls up some fabric and pulls it to his nose. The action doesn’t escape Peter; in fact, he seems entertained by it.
Elias notices his husband’s amusement only through half-lidded eyes, because every single part of his body feels like molasses right now.
“Look at you, ’s like you’re drunk in it.” Peter licks a finger and presses it up Elias’s perineum.
The pressure sends a thick dollop of pre-cum leaking down Elias’s cock. Elias’s eyes roll back into their sockets. Peter taunts him further.
“Want me to put my mouth on you or do you want something better to sniff on?”
“Fuck you and your dirty mouth.”
Peter laughs. “You can, baby. Always loved the way you shiver when you come down my throat.”
Elias points a weak finger towards the door. “Close that first.”
Peter goes and Elias hears the unmistakable sound of a lock falling into place. Peter sheds his shirt and trousers on the way back. Elias can see the outline of his cock against his underwear and makes grabby hands at it.
Peter chuckles and stands next to the headboard. “Can’t decide?”
Elias forgoes the shirt in favour of leaning over the edge and burying a face into Peter’s groin. He takes a deep inhale and mouths at it, dragging his tongue all the way up.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”
Peter moans above him and cradles his nape, pulling at the fine hairs there to make Elias shiver. Elias gives his own cock a few lazy pumps while his mouth is busy getting Peter’s underwear all damp.
Elias steals a glance at the digital clock again and whines. Peter asks him what’s wrong.
“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but look at the time.”
“I am looking. It’s working fine.”
Elias swats at him. “I’m serious!”
Peter lets go of Elias’s nape to cradle his face, guiding him upwards. Elias follows it, standing on his knees.
“I’ve bought Red Bull,” Peter confides, and that’s the most beautiful thing to ever come out of his mouth. Elias melts a little just then.
Peter grabs his arse and pulls him to himself. The feel of his underwear is rough against Elias’s cock, but Elias ruts into it. The hand on Elias’s face has now slid to wrap loosely around his neck. Elias pulls Peter’s underwear down and Peter wiggles out of them.
Peter’s cock hangs heavy where it’s nestled amid the thick silver hair on his groin. Elias’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he eagerly presses them together. The hairs on Peter’s chest and lower abdomen feel coarse against his skin, but Elias loves every second of it. It will leave him tender and pink tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.
Peter pulls him into a kiss that is everything Elias has been craving all day — it doesn’t stop at his mouth, but drags down his jaw and neck, making him pliant. Peter moves his face from one side to the other to nip under his ear and suck bruises onto his collarbones.
“Got rubber?” Elias asks. Peter growls affirmatively.
It’s been a while, but they know how the other likes it. Elias is dripping wet with lube while Peter preps him. Elias would usually prefer his own fingers (much slimmer than Peter’s) at first, but right now he’s turned on enough that the slight burn of the stretch feels perfect. Elias lies on the pillows and lets Peter work his magic.
Peter kneels between his legs and fingers him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, curling up his fingers to milk Elias’s cock. Elias arches his back and watches dollop after dollop of pre-cum leak from his tip.
“Peter, I swear- to God… If you make me come like this-”
Whatever Elias had thought of saying is completely wiped from his mind when Peter leans down and gives his cockhead a gentle suck, as easy as someone scooping some ice-cream with their tongue.
Elias swears at Peter, but he can’t do much else besides clench his hands and teeth and try to keep from coming. He was so close just now; only a brief touch of Peter’s tongue and his cock is now throbbing, legs shaking so hard he has to suck in his stomach to not orgasm right then and there.
“It would be a sight to behold. You are a sight to behold.”
“Cut the crap, please cut the crap and just fuck me. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts, you bastard.”
“Then come, love.”
“I don’t wanna come without you inside me.”
Elias should be embarrassed to find that his eyes are glistening with moisture. These can’t be tears. He refuses to believe that he’s crying during sex.
Peter wipes the corner of his eye, boops Elias’s nose with his own and gives him a gentle peck.
“Okay,” Peter whispers.
Peter rolls condoms on himself and Elias, then arranges a pillow under Elias to prop him up and slides home. The size of him fills Elias up so good, so perfect — all the way down to those wiry silver curls. Sure, topping Peter also felt brilliant — but if he’s true to himself, Elias rather likes it up the arse.
They fall into a nice rhythm — whispering disconnected praises and curses. Elias keeps a hand on the headboard for leverage, rolling his hips to meet Peter’s own, re-learning where it feels good. He reminds himself that this is supposed to be quick, just a bit of rough friction before they can’t hold it anymore.
But feeling Peter’s hand clutching his waist, relishing in the delicious push and pull, seeing Peter’s fuzzy pecs flex with the easy effort of taking him — it all has Elias clenching around Peter’s cock and reaching out to trace the lines of his chest.
“Fuck, I should be telling you to go faster.”
“Do you want to go faster?”
“No… I want to keep taking your cock until sunrise.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop at some point for rest, but if you’re up to it, I’m all yours.”
Elias smiles, but his eyebrows twitch when Peter finds that spot and fucks into him, pressing right up against it.
“You see I want that, but when you do this… I want you to leave me all sore.”
“You’re a man of many wishes.”
Elias grins. “Think you can answer them?”
Peter pats his leg. “On your hands and knees, then.”
Arse up in the air, Elias stifles a laugh when Peter squirts more lube onto his hole and drags his cock over it.
Peter pushes back in with a smile. “What is it?”
“Just remembered something. When we first-” Elias hisses when Peter spreads his legs further and angles his thrusts just right. “Yeah, right there. Fuck… When we first had sex. I couldn’t believe you were just bringing people to your room and never doing this to them.”
Peter holds his hips like his hands belong there, finally giving it to him hard and fast. Elias has to clutch the sheets, but damn, that’s more like it. The t-shirt has balled up near his face and he keeps breathing in Peter’s scent.
“Uh- yeah. Hah, that was a long time ago. Is this OK, love?”
Elias nods. “Yeah. Bit rougher would be even nicer though.”
Peter grunts and his hands slide upwards. “Don’t want to hurt you, but if you say you can take it...”
Elias’s waist used to be so lean that Peter’s fingertips almost touched circling around it. Now that Elias is a bit better padded, they grab his flesh with a bit of loving violence while Peter ruts into him. Elias prays that this million pound house has thick enough walls that the noise of skin on skin won’t bleed out.
Elias wraps a loose hand around his cock, but that mere touch is enough to bring him closer to the edge. The fact that he feels so wonderfully used for Peter’s pleasure also does things to his head, because every grunt of Peter’s feels like a small victory.
Peter continues, fondly. “You used to be so fucking shameless. I’m still sad you had to remove the nip piercings.”
“It was easier- Oh, oh! Yes, just like that!” Elias presses his face into the bed, panting open-mouthed against the mattress. “It was easier- Easier,” he tries to continue, but Peter is fucking him so good that he can’t complete his line of thought.
“...that way?” Peter supplies.
Elias nods. He feels half out of it already. “I think- Gonna come. S-so good...”
Peter’s approving hum is followed by him dropping part of his weight onto Elias’s back, which forces Elias flat into the mattress. Elias gasps, loud and breathless and more in love with Peter than ever before. His husband knows that he’s a sucker for a bit of choking and is giving him exactly what he needs.
Peter thrusts harder, deeper, and it only takes a moment of Elias to come — the pressure and the friction too good to resist. Peter has to wrap a hand over his mouth to quieten his moaning. Elias shudders with the aftershocks, Peter’s still moving inside him almost too much to bear.
“God, you squeeze me so good every time,” Peter breathes into his nape. “I’ve missed this.”
Elias can’t breathe; tears gather freely on the corners of his eyes, but Peter doesn’t get off until he comes, too — it feels like orgasm drags on forever in an agonised bliss.
Elias shivers when Peter pulls out. It always gets a bit dry towards the end, but the burn and the stretch leave Elias tingly and sated — and now, completely boneless.
Peter eases him onto his side and removes the now damp t-shirt, chucking it aside; he then ties off both their condoms. The one that Elias has been wearing has almost slipped off; his flaccid cock now covered in spunk. Peter kneels between his legs and takes him into his mouth, causing Elias to seize with oversensitivity and nearly pull off chunks of Peter’s hair.
Peter pulls off of him with a wet pop, looking like the cat that got the cream. Elias sags and drapes an arm over his head, damp chest going up and down.
“Feeling better?” Peter asks. He caresses Elias’s thighs gently, barely even there. It makes pleasant goosebumps rise on Elias’s skin.
“God, you’ve ruined me…” Elias croaks. “You’ve fucked my brains out, Mr. Lukas.”
Peter chuckles. “Good.” He kisses Elias’s knee, his belly, his chest. Elias buries his fingers into his hair. “Gonna get something to clean you up.”
“Wait, just. Just stay like this for a bit.”
“Feeling like some post-coital cuddling, Mr. Bouchard?”
“Ugh,” Elias untangles his fingers from his perfect silver hair. “Now you’ve ruined it. Just go.”
Peter gives a rumbling chuckle that resounds through Elias’s chest. “No, thinking about it, I rather like it here. I get to see all your freckles.”
“Hm. Have you finally managed to count how many of them there are?”
“Nope,” Peter kisses his stomach, over the Eye tattoo. “But I’m still on it!”
Elias yawns. “Good- Good luck.”
“Gee, I really ought to get something to clean you up. At this rate you’ll end up sleeping.”
Elias snorts with his eyes closed. “Already am.”
Peter kisses his nose and leaves him be. When Elias wakes up the next day, he notices three things: one, Peter actually did give him a wipe down; two, he is very much aware of all the sleep he didn’t get last night; and three, he’s got an easy smile on for the rest of the day that he can’t deny.
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dadsbongos · 3 years
Note
how abt hajime saves antag reader from dying and that’s how she slowly starts to treat him decently and they somehow become kinda friends
Request for: Hajime Hinata Warnings: skin graft things (gore), self harm (hair pulling and scratching with intent to bleed), implications of verbal abuse, mental breakdown, fat game spoilers ~~~
“To think someone as stupid as you could build such mass weapons of destruction,” (Y/n) looked around the room, eyes catching on all the Monokumas Kazuichi had yet to dismantle and disarm. He had started with the small ones and wasn’t even half-finished yet.
“Hey,” Kazuichi whined, still working on taking apart a regular-sized Monokuma, “I’m not proud of them, y’know? That’s why I’m scrambling them.”
“No, I know,” she wandered over to the largest Monokuma, she was surprised it even fit inside the building it was so big, brushing her fingers over the cool metal, “This one’s falling apart.”
“Yeah, the bigger they are, the harder it is to keep maintenance, so I probably just gave up after a while,” the mechanic shrugged.
“Hm,” she hummed to herself, crossing her arms as she turned to face Kazuichi’s back completely, “I’m assuming that’s also why you rarely did such monsters.”
“Knowing me, yeah,” he gestured over his shoulder, still not looking at the girl, “Hubris is all that kept me making the big ones.”
“Typical.”
“What does that mean?!”
“Watch out!” a new voice entered the room, a hand grabbing (Y/n)’s arm and yanking her backward just in time for the arm of the monstrous Monokuma to clatter to the ground right where she had been standing.
Dread had sunk into the hearts of (Y/n) and Kazuichi - she would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for… (Y/n) looked at the hand on her arm, following it to a face. If it wasn’t for Hajime.
Kazuichi immediately rushed towards the woman, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as tears fell from his eyes and his lips quivered, “I’m so sorry, Miss (Y/n)! I should’ve been paying attention! I knew it was dangerous for you to be too close, I should’ve said something!”
“Let go of me, moron,” she smacked his hands off her shoulders, huffing before turning to Hajime and nodding curtly at him, “Thanks.”
Before anyone in the room could speak again, she charged out and into the hall.
Hajime sighed, “You save her life and she doesn’t even apologize for being an asshole.”
Kazuichi waved off the girl’s behavior and returned to his desk, “You should get away from that Monokuma.”
A creak from the giant robot was all the warning Hajime needed to get out as well.
~~
Teruteru had called everyone to dinner almost half an hour ago and even Hiyoko had come out to enjoy a meal with the others, but there was one person missing - (Y/n). 
Of course, Hajime thought as he went down the hall towards her room, she’s being difficult. She’s always like this. So difficult, so rude. Teruteru worked in that hot kitchen for hours on end so that everyone could eat together and obviously (Y/n) wouldn’t show up.
He knocked on her door, waiting for a few seconds. No answer.
He knocked again. No answer.
One last time. No answer.
Frustrated at the lack of response, Hajime took the doorknob in his hand, calling out, “I’m coming in!” before doing just that.
He expected to find her asleep in her bed or maybe the bathroom door would be shut and he’d have to shyly leave lest he gets called a weirdo for barging in. Instead, he found her sitting in front of her mirror, staring at her own reflection with unblinking eyes.
She was tracing her nails over the stitches left behind by Mikan in the wake of her skin graft. Her other hand was resting at her thigh, patting the bandages covering the donor site of her skin. Suddenly, her nails bit into the stitches on her cheek, scratching at the scarring and tearing at the threads. She cringed in pain but didn’t stop.
“Stop!” Hajime lunged forward, grabbing (Y/n)’s hand before she could completely rip through the stitched patches on her face, his brows furrowed, “What the hell are you thinking?!”
If he stopped to think about it, yelling at someone in an unstable spot like this probably wasn’t the best decision, but he wasn’t thinking.
(Y/n)’s eyes were wide, why did he care?
He already saved her life, wasn’t that enough? He had to save her face too? Why was he even in her room?
“Why does it matter?” she wheezed, stuck between laughing and crying, shaking her head all the same, “I was great! I was incredible! Now- now- now- now- now- “ she felt tears roll from her eyes and burn at the bleeding stitches, “I’m fucking horrific! I thought I was above all of you but lately, it’s just been fuck up after fuck up after fuck up- “
Taken advantage of by Junko Enoshima - the girl who never loved her.
Scarred and mangled face - done by her own hand.
Almost crushed to death - Hajime had to save her.
“Hiyoko laughs at me and you look down on me and Mikan judges my face every time I go in for a checkup and Kazuichi pitties me and Fuyuhiko thinks we’re the same and Ibuki’s scared of me and Akane hates me and Sonia thinks I’m evil and Junko never loved me and Junko never loved me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me,” she began rocking herself back and forth in her chair, fat sobs tearing through her chest and throat, hiccups ripping over her, “I’m a failure… I’m a failure… I’m a failure…”
“You’re just human,” Hajime knelt down to be eye-level with the woman, taking both her hands in his and making her keep eye contact with him, “You’re allowed to make mistakes and fuck up. You were tricked and manipulated by Junko, we all were. We get to make up for that now by restoring the world. Nobody hates you or judges your face.”
“You’re lying, I know it,” she stomped her feet like a petulant child, more tears stinging at her skin, “I should’ve been perfect. Mother always said I had to be perfect, father always wanted the daughter and that’s what I am! I have to be… I have to be…”
“Your parents are idiots if they think anyone could ever be perfect,” Hajime untangled one of his hands from their interlocked appendages to place it over his heart, “Even Izuru kind of sucks, he’s uncaring and doesn’t show appreciation for anything. Nobody’s perfect, (Y/n). You need to realize that whatever your parents told you was just overcritical bullshit and there’s nothing wrong with you,” his eyes flickered to her bleeding stitches, “I’ll get Mikan, sit tight.”
Her head fell in shame as Hajime left. Her fingers tapped on the bandages covering her donor site, feeling a faint sting at the contact. Of course, Izuru Kamukura would save her again. Or try to, at least.
God, did he have to be better than her at everything?
No, he wasn’t better. He wasn’t better. She was great.
Her hands shot up and twisted knots in her hair, yanking as hard as she could to shut her own thoughts up.
The door opened, Mikan hurrying through with a little white box in her hand. She shakily took (Y/n)’s hands away from her head, and held her chin to inspect the injured area.
“It’s not too b-bad, thankfully,” the nurse murmured, opening the box and unwinding some thread, “It sh-shouldn’t take me too long.”
(Y/n) closed her eyes, letting Mikan work and doing her best to act as if the pulling and pinching didn’t bother her. She wasn’t in pain. She was fine.
There no memories of causing despair with Mikan and Junko running through her head. There was never competition between her and Mikan for Junko’s love. There was no time that she felt inferior to Mikan.
She was fine.
She was fine.
Once Mikan left, Hajime escorted her out, the two muttering amongst themselves for a few minutes before Hajime nodded and returned to (Y/n)’s side. He lifted her from the chair and carried her to bed, largely disturbed by how little she protested, “I could get you some food, if you want? Teruteru made a lot.”
Shaking her head, (Y/n) felt more tears rise to her eyes, “I want to cry.”
“Should I go?”
“No… yes… I don’t know…” she sniffled, hiccupping once again as she cried, “Izuru… what do I do…?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he sat by her on the bed, “I’m just Hajime Hinata, and besides, nobody can tell you how to deal with your emotions besides you. Or maybe a therapist.”
“Stay, please…”
“Then I will.”
~~
“Hiyoko laughed when I tripped on the beach this morning…”
“She’s always like that,” Hajime paused pouring the pancake batter into the pan to rethink his statement, “Well, she’s getting better. Slowly.”
“I keep screwing up,” she huffed, cracking an egg to pour the whites and yolk into a bowl. What she didn’t notice until after she’d already thrown out the broken shell and turned back to grab another egg, was that she’d accidentally gotten a speck of shell in the bowl. Pursing her lips, heat rushed to her cheeks.
Again.
It was just mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake- 
“Ah, I do that all the time,” Hajime peeked over the girl’s shoulder, grabbing a fork to press the bit of shell into the bowl and drag it up the side and out of the eggs, “See?” he removed the shell from the fork and threw it into the trash, “All better.”
(Y/n) stood there for a few more seconds, antsy as she watched him go about his business like she didn’t just ruin breakfast. Her throat swelled with dread and her hands grew sweaty, “I messed up. Aren’t you gonna do something about it?”
“Like?”
“I- “ she held her tongue, shaking her head, “I thought- “
“It’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with a mistake,” Hajime shook his head, “You’re human, you’re going to mess up. Now whisk the eggs before Teruteru finds us and gives us ‘advice’.”
“Right,” she nodded, turning back to the eggs.
Hajime pursed his lips as quiet settled over them. He learned a lot about her within the previous hours of the night. She wasn’t a monster, she’d just grown up with the wrong people. 
She’d done awful things and she’d make up for them in due time, the most she could anyway.
It was after she had passed out from crying and he went out to use the bathroom that Mikan would nervously, shakily utter the words that made everything click.
“I s-suspect she has a God complex stemming from overcritical parents…”
She was sick and needed help. 
They all did.
She probably took the manipulation from Junko hard. Probably as hard as Mikan if the muttered, heartbroken repetitions of “she never loved me” meant anything. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those two girls went through at Junko’s hand.
Well, if it’d help, he would listen.
He wanted to help her. He wanted them all to heal and live better lives as they restored the world with the Future Foundation.
That would always include (Y/n). She was as deserving of healing as the rest of them. She was deserving of love. She wasn’t a heartless monster.
She was… becoming his friend.
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ereawrites · 3 years
Text
Tim Drake - NSFW Alphabet!
this was not requested
taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Tim, as much as he enjoys it in the moment, can’t cope with being messy/sweaty etc after you’re done. He likes to shower together after sex - lots of kisses, mumbling how amazing you are into your skin, cleaning each other while half-holding each other up with exhaustion. After that, he loves to go back to bed and play with your hair while you both drift off to sleep. This is one of the only times Tim will sleep straight through the night.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
On himself, Tim likes his hands. He has long, slender fingers: much of his childhood was spent playing piano, and his handwriting is gorgeous when he actually tries. They’re often stained with ink, which reminds him how hard he works. Also... major fingering kink. Huge. He will happily finger you for hours.
On you, Tim is absolutely in love with your shoulders, collarbones, and neck. He thinks they all look so graceful and elegant. During foreplay and a lot of sex, Tim basically has to have his lips somewhere in this area. A surefire way to catch his attention is to wear an off-shoulder dress, or a nice necklace. (He may ask you to keep the necklace on during sex).
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Looooves to come onto your chest and collarbones. He isn’t so keen on coming inside, mostly because it lowkey terrifies him, but he can be convinced in the heat of the moment if you ask nicely enough. Tim comes a lot. Even after one round, there’s still a lot coming out of there. You will need a lot of tissues.
As an extension of the fingering kink, if you squirt, Tim will go absolutely nuts. He’ll totally lose his mind, and keep going until you do it three more times. He doesn’t care if he gets messy. He’s a champ and he powers through and it actually turns him on a ridiculous amount.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
...he didn’t mean to do it, he just couldn’t help himself. It was one of the first times you slept at the manor, and you had to rush home in the morning - you quickly woke him up to say goodbye, but he was in the middle of a sex dream, and in all the rush you left behind your sweatshirt. Tim ended up holding it to his nose and furiously jacking off right after you left.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s definitely messed around with a few people by the time he meets you, but he’s quite possibly a virgin. Tim takes a long time to open up to anyone enough to actually have sex with them, so he tends to stick to foreplay for a long time. However, this means he’s very, very talented at foreplay; he’s also a very quick learner, and he loves to spend a long time getting to know his partner’s body. So, yes, he definitely knows what he’s doing, he just might be a little shy at first.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Cowgirl or the face-off. He loves being topped, and watching you on top of him is heaven for him. Plus, he can get to your clit easily in these positions. He’s totally happy to experiment with any positions you like, though.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Tim’s generally more serious - he doesn’t get much time with you, and he wants to be fully involved and focused in the moment. Especially for the first few times you have sex, Tim has a very intense focus about him, and he’s totally concerned with your pleasure. Once he learns your body more, though, moments of goofiness and laughter can shine through.
H = Harmony (do they like music in the background?)
Once Tim gets his hands on you, everything else is tuned out. He couldn’t care less about what’s going on in the background. The one exception to this is if there are other people in the building: Tim tries to have some background music or radio to seem less suspicious. 
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Tim’s only really likely to have sex with you if he genuinely loves you, or at least cares about you very deeply. You can feel this in each of his touches. It’s as if he’s in awe of you, literally worshipping your body, and there’s a very specific kind of gentle, loving intensity. If you’re taking charge, it’s quite common for him to gasp, god, you’re perfect, I love you so much-
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Outside of a relationship, Tim almost never jacks off. He often goes months without touching himself, simply because he never allows himself to relax enough to do so. He’ll only ever do it if, for example, you inadvertently get him so riled up that he can’t control it any longer. Even once he’s in a relationship, he rarely does it. He’d prefer to wait for you. Phone sex is the big exception, though - regular business trips are made a little easier by hearing your voice.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Masochist, femdom, bondage (on you or him), vibrators and cock rings, risky/semi-public sex, fingering, sensation play e.g. ice, blindfolds (on him), hair pulling, hickeys (on you), edging, sending nudes
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
1. The bedroom
2. Shower
3. Office/kitchen counter (tie)
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
The easiest way to turn Tim on is, simply, to let it be known that you want him while also encouraging him to relax. Press up against him when you kiss him a goodbye on the cheek in the morning, and you’ll be in his head all day. Run your nails down his shoulders while you massage them. Coax him into bed because you ‘can't sleep without him”. Tim is always lowkey horny, you just have to get him thinking about sex.
Once you get going, Tim very easy gets caught up in everything. He lives to hear your moans and watch your expressions. The more pleasure he gives you, the more he wants to give.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
No sharing. Tim has enough insecurities, and he doesn’t want that amplified by getting someone else involved. He also doesn’t want anything that has the potential to cause real harm (e.g. knives) - pain is fine, but he would never forgive himself if he genuinely hurt you. As for turn offs, Tim doesn’t like anyone who is too full of themselves or overly arrogant. He also hates someone who acts too aloof.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Tim does enjoy giving oral - especially after you’ve came once or twice already - but, again, he’d honestly prefer to finger you or at least have his hands involved. He finds it stupidly hot if you sit on his face. He doesn’t care if he can’t breathe, he’ll literally grab your hips and pull you down onto him harder.
He definitely prefers to receive (he isn’t selfish, he repays you) since it’s one of the only times he can completely let go. As much as he knows it’s a cliche, he goes absolutely crazy for a blowjob under his office desk. 
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He usually goes for a slow, intense pace if he’s in control. He wants to savour every moment and each one of your reactions; that means a steady, thorough pace, so he can angle each one of his thrusts just right. However, when he’s particularly high on adrenaline (or jealous) he adopts a faster and less sensual pace.
If you’re taking the reins, Tim’s a sucker for a rougher pace. Tease him by going slow at first, then work it up so you’re practically bruising his hips with how hard you’re riding him, and watch his eyes roll right back into his skull.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Of course Tim prefers to take the time to really indulge, but his schedule doesn’t often allow that. The majority of sex with Tim is probably quickies. For example: in his office on his lunch break, on the kitchen table before leaves for work, in a side alley on a quiet night of patrol. He also loves a quick phone call in the middle of meetings. Once you figure out how to rile him up enough and get him in the mood, you’ll receive a lot of frantic and desperate calls.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Obviously. He gets off so much on knowing there’s a risk of being caught, pressing his palm over your mouth while he buries his own moans in the crook of your neck. He’s much less keen on risking any harm to you.
As for experimentation, Tim is all for it, but you have to give him time to research it first. He needs to be fully prepared and informed for anything he does. Tim’s actually pretty likely to suggest new things, depending on whatever he finds during this research: especially as he becomes more experienced, he suggests a lot of new things to try together (pegging). He trusts you completely.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Pretty good stamina - enough to make you come at least once, but he usually chooses to slow down and pace himself so he can make you come two or three times (<3). He kind of loses it and comes fast if you ride him hard and maybe push him down, but he’ll make up for it. Tim’s entirely capable of going two or three rounds if you’ve got the time and the energy; this generally happens when he comes home after a few weeks away. If you’re feeling down or insecure, though, there’s at least 2 rounds of body worship coming your way.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I’m just gonna say it. Tim has a butt plug. He busts it out after particularly stressful weeks, and although it’s something he initially keeps quiet, he can be convinced to bring it into your bed if that’s something you’re into. He also loves it when you use cockrings or restraints on him. On you, Tim absolutely loves using vibrators.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Not the biggest tease at first, but the real teasing comes when he starts edging you. Tim doesn't necessarily mean it in a cruel way - unless you’ve asked him to - and it’s more in a way of building you up to an even stronger orgasm. He feels a little bad if he teases you too much. Even when he’s playfully flirting, he never really takes it far enough for it to become teasing - he prefers to stay vaguely suggestive and let your mind do the rest. For Tim, it’s all about you teasing him.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Lots of breathy moans, pants of your name, and this can sometimes devolve into whimpers as he gets closer to his orgasm. He doesn’t often verbalise, since he’s normally too far gone to actually string sentences together, but when he does it’s praise. He’s not ridiculously loud but his moans are pretty much constant, and occasionally you get one out of him that the neighbours definitely hear.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He comes on the spot the first time you bite his shoulder.
X = X-marks the spot (where’s their favourite place to give/receive hickies)
Tim doesn't exactly have a possessive streak, but he can become easily insecure and likes to know that you're clearly ‘his’. He loves to leave hickies across your collarbone, just low enough that they can be covered if need be, but he secretly goes wild if you leave them just poking out over the collar of your shirt. He thinks they’re a little juvenile, though, so he doesn’t mark you unless something sets him off.
He has quite pale skin and bruises very easily. This makes him a dream to leave marks on. He tells you not to, since they’re a pain to explain to the family, but if you suck bruises into his hipbones during a blowjob he’s going to have to bite down on his hand to keep quiet.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
As above - he’s pretty much always lowkey, background-level horny. Tim is always up for sex, as long as you get him thinking about it for a few hours beforehand. In the average week, Tim will probably go for sex around two times, but this can be more if you’ve been apart for a long time beforehand.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
You’ve got about ten to fifteen minutes to clean up, tell him how much you love him, and get back into bed before he’s out like a light. On the upside, Tim’s very cuddly after sex, and you’ll wake up wrapped in his arms.
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myundeadgayson · 3 years
Text
Ahoy, We are Castaways AU, but not really because Gunk and Ishmael find Pirates:
@bluwards So.... I mayhaps wrote an entire thing for your idea?
For anyone wondering, here’s the link to the OG au idea post: https://bluwards.tumblr.com/post/661885099380506624/au-where-tommy-and-wilbur-were-part-of-a-pirate
This might not be exactly what you were hoping for of this, but I had an image in my mind and just went HAM on it. Like, I mean that as in I started this at like... 1am last night and I finished at like 4pm today??? I’m not saying I wrote that entire time, but I am saying that I literally just NEEDED to finish this because it’s SUCH A FUN IDEA. (I’m sorry for writing so much by the way! I got excited.)
Notes: None of this is historically accurate to literally anything, especially history and pirates. Instead, we’re gonna image this is some fun fantasy world where like. Pirates are out chilling in the world stealing shit and royalty exists somewhere enough you can be like “yeah, i’m royal. try to prove i’m not bitch.” (Also, I’ll post this on Ao3 later and edit with the link after I sleep. For now, please enjoy!) Words: 5160 Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Philza Minecraft, and Technoblade
The heat must be getting to him.  It must be because there’s no way that’s a ship he’s seeing out on the horizon. It seems to be drawing closer, but it’s not near enough to tell, not that it would matter anyway. It’s not real.  It’s not real, he tells himself. It has to be a mirage. As if their luck would ever be that good.
 Wilbur rests his head back down into Tommy’s mess of curls. The two of them are curled together underneath the shade of the treeline. His back is pressed against the rough, uneven bark of a palm tree with his bare feet digging into the sand. Tommy’s eyes are closed. His little brother is tucked tight against his side, dozing softly as the slight breeze ruffles his dirty hair.
 If Wilbur tried, he could pretend Tommy was just resting. He could pretend this was the two of them relaxing on some beach that they’ve gotten all to themselves. He could imagine that Tommy tuckered himself out, now the two of them were peacefully dozing off in the shade on a lovely Summer day as the gentle sea wind blew.
 In that fantasy, they would have chosen to be here on this beach. A beach would make for a good day trip, he thinks. He imagines that it would be a beach off the coast of a small town. He’d take Tommy early in the morning down past the docks and watch Tommy hop along stones down a path leading towards the sand. Wilbur would make him carry a basket of bread and other treats that they might have gotten from a kind baker that didn’t mind that their pockets were a little low. Wilbur would smile and promise to repay them, and it’d be a real promise instead of a sharp-toothed lie.
 He’d bring a threadbare sheet because they’d have one to spare for it. He’d spread it along the sand and bask in the sun’s rays. He’d open his eyes occasionally to Tommy’s excited shouts as his brother pulled odd shells and tiny hermit crabs from the ocean, then laugh as Tommy shouted obscenities when they inevitably fell from his hands because Tommy was anything but careful. A few shells would be saved though, and Tommy would make a small pile of them on the corner of the sheet for them to keep.
 Tommy would eventually tug Wilbur up to join him. Wilbur would laugh and pretend to be reluctant as his brother guided him down towards the water until the warm waves lapped at their feet. Tommy would grin at him, bright as the sun overhead and his hair sparkling like strands of gold. He’d look so proud of himself as he showed Wilbur more shells and other interesting things he found.
 Along the way, one of them would splash the other whether it be accidentally or not, and it’d start a war. Wilbur would laugh until his ribs were sore as he smacked water Tommy’s way and listened to the younger shout insults back at him. It’d all be in good fun and it’d show in Tommy’s toothy grin as the blond would get some harebrained idea of how to “win” their little game and it’d end with them both falling into the water. They’d be soaked to the bone and Wilbur would playfully smack water at Tommy’s face for getting them both wet, but it’d be fine in the end because they would sit out in the sun until their clothes dried. In this fantasy, Wilbur could imagine it wouldn’t matter anyway because once they went home, they’d have more clothes to change into and one pair wouldn’t be missed for a day.
 When the sun started to set over the horizon, Wilbur would gather them up to leave. He’d gather up their food and make Tommy carefully fold up the sheet. It’d end up balled up instead and Wilbur would tease Tommy for his shit folding skills. They’d stay an extra few minutes to stare off at the sunset as it glistened over the calm waters. All would feel peaceful until Tommy ruined the moment with some joke that’d make Wilbur smack him upside the head, even though he’d laugh all the same.
 They’d walk home with Tommy’s shells tucked safely into their pockets under the soft pink skies. A perfect background to a perfect day.
 It would be nice, lovely even, because in that world they’d go home to some nice place Wilbur managed to keep for them in some nice town. It’d be real and theirs, and they’d each have a warm bed to sleep in and food in their stomachs. It might be small, but small was okay because they’d both be happy and they’d have nothing to fear.
 If only life were ever so kind.
 It was a nice daydream, but if Wilbur were to look down, it’d shatter. It’d shatter if he listened at all to the way Tommy’s breathing sounded off. With every low breath, his brother’s chest would shutter. Wilbur could feel it every time.
 Tommy’s nose was red and peeling, as were his cheeks and shoulders. His freckles were hidden beneath the furious scarlet and white flecks. His skin had gotten tanner, but the dark rings under his eyes made him look ghastly. Wilbur was sure that he looked about the same himself, but seeing it on Tommy was different.
 The boy was thin enough before they’d gotten stranded, but now his limbs looked just too small. Wilbur could practically see the bones poking through. If it weren’t for the blaring sun overhead tanning their skin, Wilbur was sure that Tommy would look more like a walking skeleton than a teenager.
 They’d got thrown overboard days ago. Wilbur lost track of how many. He stopped really caring when he realized there were other things to care about, like keeping them alive.
 Luck had never been on their side. Wilbur had known that since they were little and a twelve-year-old found himself in charge of a five-year-old.
 The world’s always been against them. It started early with a mother too young to be on her own with a child. She was struggling enough as it was to keep them fed that when that one child turned to two, the odds for any of them getting by turned minimal. Even with Wilbur doing his best to help, swindling and snatching up food and loose change off of oblivious folk in the city, hope was running thin.
 It was amazing she’d ever gotten so far. Wilbur hated to see it that way now, but it was the truth. The fact she’d ever made it to Tommy’s fifth birthday was incredible. When the sickness set in though, no amount of Wilbur’s efforts could seem to help her. Eventually, she’d stopped waking up entirely and Wilbur was left on his own to care for his little brother.
 Luck ran out, but they made their own with time.
 After losing their mother, Wilbur packed them up and they were off. He taught Tommy every trick he knew. They traveled endlessly, hopping from place to place just to keep moving whenever it seemed like any townsfolk around started catching onto their games. Wilbur tried a few odd jobs every time for money in places, and Tommy was tiny enough that he could sneak bread and other foods off vendors to bring back to whatever tiny hole they’d called home at that moment.
 As they both got older, the tricks got better. Their stories were perfected and their act was flawless if ever they needed to talk someone into lending them a place out of pity, or a new job.
 When Wilbur caught sight of a ship though, he’d thought they were golden. Sure, he only knew vaguely about working them. He’d taken on a few jobs on some docks before, but he’d never been on a ship himself. The thought was meant to be that if he could get on that ship for a job, he could bring Tommy along with him. They’d stay there and hop off at the first chance they could once they’d landed in a new country, then they’d start over for real. They’d start over fresh in a new place entirely and everything might be okay! They could make life whatever they wanted because no one would be able to know otherwise!
 And everything did feel okay for a while. Turns out the ship Wilbur found was a crew of pirates, but like always, Wilbur managed to talk his way through. Tommy played along perfectly, and before they knew it, they became crew. Perhaps they were there for nothing more than playing clean-up, but they would take what they could get.
 Their luck was turning up. As Wilbur started working his way through making connections with the crew, he was starting to think maybe he’d found a place for them. They wouldn’t stay, of course, but it made sense, didn’t it?
 The constant traveling and plundering— that kind of life was meant for them. However, there were also rules to follow and heavy risks in not doing so. Neither of them were good at following rules, but they were good actors all the same that could fake it until their last breath. But for a short time, it felt like a good fit and Wilbur remembered telling Tommy as such.
 Tommy was much more reluctant. He was getting by, but he didn’t like it there. Maybe Wilbur was succeeding, but Tommy was younger. His limbs were all thin and gangly, and it made him look weaker than he was. The crew would shove him around and they’d always be too loud in his ears. Tommy was rather loud himself, but when you’re trying to hold your tongue to survive, it wasn’t like he could exactly defend himself.
 So maybe they didn’t see eye to eye about it, but that was fine. Wilbur agreed they’d only be there a little longer because the moment they docked somewhere new, they’d be off and onto wherever life would take them next.
 Unfortunately, their luck ran out.
 It all happened in a blur. Wilbur remembered when the storm hit. It was rougher than normal. He remembered fighting with the rest of the crew to take care of the ship. They were fighting hard to stay afloat as the waves rocked the ship from side to side so hard that Wilbur feared they would tip.
 The ship didn’t tip, but Tommy did.
 He could still vividly remember Tommy slipping. He’d watched in horror the way his brother scrambled for purchase on something, anything. He’s just barely caught the side of the ship.
 Wilbur went after him, not caring in the slightest for whatever task he’d abandoned. He’d tried to help yank Tommy back aboard. Tommy, who held on with white knuckles and fingernails digging into the wood with fear in his eyes. Wilbur tried to reassure him, but he was sure his words got lost in the raging winds. He’d tried to pull Tommy back onto the deck, and for a moment, he was succeeding. He almost managed to pull Tommy back on board.
 Right as he thought he’d gotten Tommy back though, the ship hit another furious set of waves. The brothers got thrown hard, and suddenly they were both going down.
 It was a miracle they didn’t drown.
 Wilbur sighed, closing his eyes once again. He tried to block out the memories of rushing water and Tommy’s screams of his name. He could still taste the seawater on his tongue as it tried to flood his lungs.
 They’d gotten tossed endlessly in the waves. The ship was forgotten in the battle to just hold on to each other.
 He combed his fingers through Tommy’s hair. The boy didn’t even respond. He must have finally fallen asleep, Wilbur thought to himself. Sleep hadn’t been easy to find since they’d woken up ashore. Though the island seemed abandoned, neither of them could be sure there wasn’t some hidden danger lurking somewhere. Their sunburns didn’t make it easy either with the way their skin would ache. Even in the shade or the dark of the night, they’d struggle to find enough comfort to rest at all.
 He was glad Tommy was getting some sleep now. He was getting rather tired himself. As much as he’d like to give in, one of them needed to stay awake just in case.
 Wilbur groaned as he forced his eyes to peel open once more. As his vision started to clear, he noticed the mirage was getting closer. The blurry shape of the ship was getting bigger. It was looking like it was getting ready to dock at the edge of the island at any minute. Or at least it would if it were actually real.
 Wilbur huffed, resting his cheek on Tommy’s head. He watched idly as the ship grew closer and closer to the edge of the shore. It wasn’t coming straight towards them. It was heading more towards the left edge of the island where the trees were a bit more scattered, but the shoreline was still mostly clear of rocks.
 It wasn’t until it was starting to look suspiciously more and more lifelike that Wilbur started to get more intrigued.
 Furrowing his brows, he lifted his head. He pulled away from Tommy some to sit up further. Tommy groaned in protest. The motion caused the boy to slide down, his head resting more on Wilbur’s chest than shoulder. Wilbur wanted to hush him and whisper soft apologies for disturbing him at all. Unfortunately, the ship’s drawing nearer by the second and Wilbur could feel something akin to hope bubbling up in his throat.
 He frantically nudged at Tommy’s side, “Tommy. Tommy, wake up.”
 “Augh…” Tommy rolled his head, burying his face further into Wilbur’s shirt with an annoyed whine. He weakly smacked at Wilbur’s arm, “Fuck off, Wilbur… M’tryin’ to sleep, asshole…”
 As much as Wilbur wished he could agree, he needed Tommy’s eyes. “Get up! I think I see something,” Wilbur urged. He shoved Tommy off him until the boy got the hint to sit up on his own.
 The blond looked absolutely pitiful. Tommy rubbed at his tired eyes with his fists. Wilbur’s chest ached with remorse for having bothered him, but he told himself that again, it could be for good reason.
 “What the fuck’re you on about?” Tommy mumbled irritably.
 “Look! Look there,” Wilbur hissed, pointing out at the ship. It seemed to be getting ready to dock. Tiny figures could be seen moving along the deck, grabbing at ropes and such. “Do you see that?”
 It took a moment for Tommy to follow where he was pointing. The boy was still getting his bearings on being awake again. Wilbur almost turned Tommy’s head himself to see though. Patience was growing thin as their potential hope of being able to escape was growing stronger, but he needed to be sure. It could be his mind playing cruel tricks on him. The exhaustion could finally be taking its toll, and maybe Tommy would be of no help because he could be seeing nothing as well, but the chances of them imagining the same ship with the same little people had to be high.
 “See wha’?” Tommy’s voice was still groggy from sleep. The boy’s eyes slowly followed Wilbur’s finger towards the ship. Wilbur watched as the recognition clicked into place and all at once their hope seemed more plausible. Tommy’s eyes widened, “T-That’s— Wilbur, that’s a ship!” His head whipped around to look up at Wilbur. “That’s a real ship, innit?! Please tell me that’s real!”
 The brunette was already grinning and nodding along with that same spark in his eye. “Oh, thank fuck! You see it too then! I thought maybe I was just imagining it.”
 For the first time in days, Tommy looked excited. “Holy shit, Wilbur, we might be saved!”
 He tried to stagger to his feet. Wilbur had to rush to catch him before he stumbled to the ground, “Tommy, careful!”
 He caught the boy before he could fall. Tommy winced, teeth gritting to bite back a cry. Wilbur noticed it instantly. He dropped Tommy’s arms at once, moving to take the other’s wrists where the burns were less present. The younger steadied himself on his feet with Wilbur’s cautious guidance. Once he was stable, he passed Wilbur a sheepish grin, “Heh, oops?”
 Wilbur heaved out a sigh. There was no way he could be mad at that, not that he ever planned to. He shook his head, letting go of Tommy completely now that it seemed his brother could stand on his own. He straightened up, looking out towards where the head of the ship was disappearing behind the treeline. Taking a deep breath, Wilbur ruffled a hand through his hair before looking back to Tommy, “I think they’re planning to dock on that side. If we go now, we might be able to get on.”
 “Then what are we waiting for?! Let’s go!” Tommy shouted excitedly. With that, he turned to march ahead.
 He barely got a step before Wilbur was catching him by the wrist to stop him, “Wait a second! I wasn’t done yet!”
 Tommy practically whined as he was stopped for the second time. He turned back on his heel with a loud groan, “What? The ship’s right there, Wilbur! We need to go!”
 Wilbur could understand his enthusiasm. He wanted off this island as much as Tommy did, but if they were going to get onto that ship, they needed a plan.
 “Listen to me. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sneak on without getting found out and I don’t know about you, but I really don’t feel like getting tossed off another ship,” Wilbur told him honestly.
 Tommy’s nose wrinkled at the reminder. Sniffing, the boy turned to face him better, “Then what? You want us to go and just ask them? Like ‘hi, Mister Captain, sir! Could we please jump on this here ship you got? I know you don’t know us and it’d be really to leave us for dead, but I think if you’d really just considered it for a second deep in your heart’— honestly, that’s sounds really stupid, Wilbur. No one’s going to fall for that!”
 Wilbur sputtered, trying not to choke on a laugh. “No, no! As if that’d ever work.” He cleared his throat, pulling himself back together quickly. “We don’t know what kind of ship we’re dealing with yet. I say we go stake out the ship first and plan from there. But if we get caught, I think I already have a few ideas in mind. But whatever we do, we just have to stick to it well enough to get to their next stop.”
 Tommy rolled his eyes, “Sounds easy enough. Now can we just go already? I’m so tired of all this stupid sand.” ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ******
 “So…” Phil dragged out the word. Techno remained tense behind him, leaning against the side of the ship. Phil didn’t need to look behind him to know the man was glaring at the pair of boys in front of them, searching for some sign to not trust the two. Phil held up a hand as if to silently gesture his first mate to settle down. He could handle this. “How about we start with your names, alright, boys?”
 The two young men before him traded a look. Whatever mental conversation the two had ended in the span of seconds before the older of the pair was clearing his throat. The brunette was suddenly holding out a hand, “Captain Ishmael. Honor to meet another Captain”
 “Ishmael?…” Phil slowly repeated, taking the man’s hand. He’d give it to the kid. For someone that was clearly on the verge of exhaustion, he had a good grip. “Really?”
 “Uh huh!” Ishmael took his hand back with a rather proud grin, “It’s a family name. Passed down from generation to generation! I’m Ishmael the 3rd actually, in case you wanted to know.”
 Phil did not. He couldn’t care less about this man’s history, but he did care about the fact that he could have sworn the man didn’t have as much of an accent before. And it seemed to be growing thicker with every word (as if “Ishmael” was getting his bearings on his new voice).
 “As you can probably guess, we’re a very long way from home, you know?” Ishmael went on without missing a beat. “We had a ship of our own, but huge storm took it out with the rest of our crew and, well, you can see how things turned out.”
 Phil only arched a brow further. He was sure the disbelief was heavy on his expression, “Right…” He turned his attention to the young boy beside the self-proclaimed captain. He’d been mostly quiet since boarding. “And what about you, mate?”
 “Gunk,” the boy croaked up after a moment. His voice was incredibly hoarse. He had the same accent as Ishmael, lending slight credit to their tale, not that Phil believed either of them in the slightest.
 “Gunk.”
 The boy hummed, leaning heavily on the young Captain’s shoulder. “Yep. And that’s Gunk Gorbachev to you,” the kid added, weakly lifting his head enough to shoot Phil a glare, pointing a finger as well in a way the older blond assumed was meant to look threatening. “Heir to the Gorbachev throne, I’ll have you know.”
 Phil only stared blankly at the kid. Blinking slowly, he settled on a simple,  “Okay… So, we have Captain Ishmael and Gunk…”
 “Gorbachev,” the kid corrected.
 Phil nodded, “Gorbachev. So tell me why exactly should I let you on my ship?”
 Ishmael cleared his throat first, “Well, as I mentioned before, our ship got destroyed in the storm. I know you’ve got no reason to believe us, but I assure you when we get back to the nearest mainland, I can find you all the proof I can to prove Gunk’s father is a highly influential man. He would waste no time to give you as much money as you wish for his son’s safe return.”
 Before Phil could answer, Techno was doing so for him. “If he’d only send an amount for the kid, then why should we bother to keep you?”
 To Ishmael's credit, he held his own well. Phil knew exactly how intimidating Techno could be, especially when he was trying. The man could make most men cower with a single look. Ishmael, however, held Techno’s look head-on, lips stretched into a firm line, “Well I’ll have you know, I’m one of King Gorbachev’s most trusted Captains. I’m now Gunk’s primary caretaker as well, seeing as the rest of our people were taken down in the waves. The bounty for my safe return will be high. Not as high as Gunk’s, but it’s still more bounty for you, isn’t it?”
 “But you still crashed his ship,” Techno bluntly pointed out, much to Ishmael’s disliking. “Someone who can’t take care of their own ship and out of their crew, only manages to keep themselves and some kid alive doesn’t sound very worthy to me. At least, that’s not someone I’d wanna take back.”
 Ishmael narrowed his eyes sharply, “I think as someone who lives their life on the water, you would know how unpredictable the sea can be, Sir…”
 “Technoblade,” the said man gruffly answered.
 “Technoblade,” the name almost sounded cruel on Ishmael’s tongue, “I’m sure you know exactly how unfair the tides are. You can’t always predict the storms when they come, neither can you always get away from them in time. I’ll have you know, Technoblade, I did my damned hardest to save my crew, but the waves separated us and took my ship down with it. You don’t think I haven’t spent days searching the shores for signs of my crew? Because I have.” Ishmael’s voice was getting louder and more emotional with every word. “The best I could do was to do my sworn task, which was keep Gunk here safe…”
 Phil could see the sheen of tears behind the young captain's eyes as he choked on those last few words, and if he was lying, Phil had to admit the kid was a pretty damn good actor.
 Ishmael’s arm was wrapped protectively around the Gunk’s shoulders, keeping the boy close to his chest as if it really were his sworn duty and he couldn’t handle the thought of failing another task, especially one so crucial.
 Gunk was in on it as well. The boy played a pretty convincing part of the sad child that’s lost his people. Phil might feel bad if it turned out to be true because he did look awfully pitiful. He had his head tucked against Ishmael’s chest. His eyes weren’t closed, but they stared ahead, unblinking yet filled with sadness as if he were reliving the painful memories.
 “Now I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my loss,” Ishmael finished, squaring his shoulders once more. The man’s dark eyes were hardened over in a way that almost made Phil believe his story. That was a soldier’s look if he knew one. “It isn’t as if I haven’t been thinking about them enough for the past few days… How would you like it if the seas turned on you and took your crew?”
 Techno seemed to have nothing more to say to that. This talk seemed to have turned much more emotional than he planned. He crossed his arms with a grunt, breaking Ishmael's gaze to glower at the deck instead.
 Ishmael broke the gaze as well, huffing loudly before turning his attention back on Philza. “Now as I was saying, you can offer me up as well. If the king offers you nothing, you can kill me, that’s fine. But I think you’d be wasting your effort if you did so now and lost even more bounty. You seem like two very smart men, so I don’t think you’d want to pass up on a good deal for nothing, would you?”
 “I suppose not…” Phil hummed, leaning back in his seat. “But how do you know we won’t kill you after the payment?”
 Ishmael shrugged, “Then that’s the risk we’ll have to take, isn’t it? It’s sure better than dying alone on an island, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Fair enough,” Phil decided. He pushed himself to stand and motioned to a nearby crew member towards the boys, “They can stay. We’re keeping the same route as we were without them.”
 “You can’t be serious,” Techno spoke up, standing up to follow after him. A few crewmen were already passing them by to start prepping the ship for departure once more. Techno dodged between them, growling as he hurried to catch up to Phil’s side, “Please, Phil, you can’t really believe any of that, can you? That was the fakest story I’ve ever heard! C’mon! I mean, did you even hear that sob story?! The kid’s claiming to be a prince?!”
Phil only hummed noncommittally, “Now, Techno, I don’t think I ever said I believed them. I said I’d let them stay.”
 “Phil, that’s two extra mouths to feed,” Techno sneered back. Phil didn’t need to spare him a glance to know how disgruntled his companion looked. “That’s two extra people wasting space that we don’t need! We could have just left them there! No one would notice! We probably won’t even get any bounty from this! It’ll just be a waste of time!”
 “Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Phil answered, patience holding strong as ever. He’d already prepared himself for Techno’s barrage of questions. He had a feeling his first mate wouldn’t be thrilled about keeping a new pair of strays, especially ones that tried to lie their way into staying. “They’re only a couple of kids, mate. They’ll only be here a few weeks at most, then we’ll be rid of them for good. It won’t hurt us to babysit for a while.”
 “I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter, Phil! I don’t even like kids!” Technoblade was starting to sound more exasperated by the second. It took everything for Phil not to smile. His normally composed partner was throwing a fit over a couple of stowaways, as if their crew wasn’t built off similar strays. Though Phil supposed the difference was those strays were a little more honest. Phil couldn’t tell if that was the problem, or if Techno was taking difficulty sharing space with more newcomers. Apparently he wasn’t done, so Phil would soon find out.
 “I mean, really, Phil. We could take in so many other things. But you choose a couple kids lying that one of them’s some fake king’s heir and the other’s a— a fake captain? Who fakes being a captain! You’ve gotta agree with me here, Phil. ‘Cause I’m sure lying about being a captain is normal,” Techno snarked, “totally normal kid things.”
 Phil sighed, and paused in his step. Techno paused with him, just a step behind. Phil turned to face his partner. Techno only stares back at him, expression stoic as ever, but Phil could see the heavy annoyance in his eyes. If Phil hadn’t known him for all the years he had, he would never guess the man was only about as old as the self-proclaimed captain. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t starting to show currently, which Phil deemed for better or worse. For as old as he tried to seem, Techno was still quite young.
 Phil placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “You worry too much, mate. Yes, it is probably a lie. Honestly, I can’t say I ever believed even a second of any of it, but you saw how they looked. They were sunburnt and thirsty, and likely going to be stranded for the gods only know how long. Do you really think if you were stuck in their situation, you wouldn’t try to say anything you could to make sure you stay alive? Even if it sounded absolutely ridiculous?”
 Techno went silent for a moment. Phil watched him mull over his answer. Finally, his partner averted his gaze towards the horizon. “Well I wouldn’t be as obvious about it…”
 Phil cracked a laugh, “Oh, I wouldn’t either. It was really obvious, wasn’t it?” He chuckled, and gave Techno’s shoulder a soft squeeze before pulling away to continue walking, “We’ll keep a close eye on them. You can watch them as closely as you want, if that makes you feel any better. If anything seems too suspicious, then we’ll handle it. For now, let them recover. Let them rehydrate and eat, and we’ll just listen to see how their story changes. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll be worth their weight after all. It’s just a few weeks.” (Spoiler: it was more than a few weeks and Dadza Phil did the Dadza attachment thing as always.)
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gagmebucky · 3 years
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hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)
in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 
do not repost.
Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 
Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.
To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 
But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.
With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 
He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.
In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.
Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.
When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.
He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 
Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 
Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”
(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)
The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 
Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 
> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)
peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.
> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy
> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...
> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)
Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 
Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer
Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.
“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”
The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”
Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”
“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”
The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”
The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 
Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”
“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 
Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 
“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”
Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”
“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 
“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 
To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 
There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 
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In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 
Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 
Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 
The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 
Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.
The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 
“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 
A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 
No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 
“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”
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Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 
Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.
“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 
There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 
Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 
“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”
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kitkat1003 · 3 years
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@ninja-knox-ur-sox-off​ I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT BEFORE i wrote anything easdfgdserweesd IM STUPID
Spirit is not hiding.  
They’re not.
Huddled in the storage closet hidden in the kitchen, curled up behind boxes, they are not hiding.  They’re just...relaxing.  You know, taking a break.  
It has nothing to do with the fever they have.  Absolutely nothing.
Sure, Spirit knows from their readings that bedrest is important when it comes to dealing with illness.  If mom was around, she’d be telling them to lay down and relax.
But, as they remind themself every day, mom isn’t here, and Spirit does not have the luxury of being a child who can rest.  They’re an adult now, with responsibilities.  Pigsy put them in charge of the shop.  They have to make sure things run smoothly, even if they’re tired and a little more than a little dizzy.
They lean their head back against the wall and sigh.  They have another hour until Pigsy gets back.  They were running low on spices in the shop, and Pigsy had to run out to a place a good while away and Spirit was in charge because Pigsy trusted them.
They can’t mess it up.
They press their palms against the floor, and take a deep breath to steady themselves to get back to work.  Their breath catches in their throat, but they swallow the urge to cough.  They’re about stand, when
“That is not a good hiding spot.”
Spirit’s eyes snap open.  They freeze in place.  Eyes wide and terrified, they hardly breathe.
He wasn’t supposed to be back for an hour!  How did he find out?  He’s going to be angry.  He’s going to yell, because Spirit failed him and now they’ve proven themselves unworthy of his time or care or anything because they’re not supposed to fail-
Pigsy comes around the boxes that were supposed to be a sheild, glancing down at them with confusion written all over his face.
“Hey, Sprite, you doin’ alright?” He raises a hand, reaching out.
Spirit flinches, hands raised, and they turn their head away, shaking.
The shop is silent.  Spirit is too afraid to open their eyes again.
“Hey,” Pigsy’s voice is feather soft.  Spirit hears him lower his hands.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.  What’s wrong?”
Spirit turns their head back to fast they give themself whiplash.
“I’m sorry,” They start.  “I didn’t mean to mess up, I made sure all the orders we had were done before I came back here, I wasn’t going to stay long, I was just sitting down for a second, I’ll get back to work, I’m sorry-,” Their tirade is cut off when they cough, curling in on themself as they hack up the mucus stuck in their throat.
“Okay,” Pigsy starts, when Spirit’s coughs peter out.  “First things first-I’m not mad.  There’s nothing wrong with bein’ sick, kid.  I wish you’d’ve told me sooner, you look terrible.”
Spirit blinks a few times, staring up at Pigsy in bewilderment.  He’s not mad?  Why wouldn’t he be?
“Second,” Pigsy continues.  “Let’s get you up to the apartment.  This store room is no place to lay down in.  C’mon,” He squats down to their level, hooking a hand beneath their arm and carefully pulling them up.
Spirit stumbles a little, swaying on their feet as Pigsy carefully leads them out of the store closet and through the kitchen.
“How did you know I was in there?” Spirit asks, instead of the hundreds of other questions they have.  Their head is a bit scrambled, between the haze of sickness and the slowly receding terror.
“MK,” Pigsy replies simply.  “When you aren’t paying attention, he watches you.  Checks up on ya’, since you’re wrose than he is at taking care of yourself.  He saw you swaying on your feet and texted me.  Told me you went into the closet when I showed up.”
Spirit rubs their many eyes, trying to stay upright.  They feel very, very warm.
“Did you get your shipment?” They ask, because that’s the important thing.
“Nah,” Pigsy waves a hand.  “Mei’s been wanting a long drive anyway, so I asked her to get them.  It’s not an issue.’
They manage to get up the stairs, though Spirit has to lean heavily on the wall to keep going.  From there, Spirit stumbles into Pigsy’s apartment.
Pigsy doesn’t take them to their hammock, though.  He doesn’t even lay them down on the sofa, pulling them past the kitchen and living and into a room Spirit has never dared enter.
The bedroom.
Spirit doesn’t have the energy to really take it all in, letting Pigsy settle them onto the bed, pulling out their hair tie and setting it on the sidetable.  Spirit expects him to grab their glasses next, but it seems that they shifted back to monkey form when they weren’t paying attention, so there’s no need.
“Sorry,” Spirit mutters, again.  They don’t know why they’re apologizing, just that they ought to.
Pigsy pulls up the covers and leaves, coming back a minute or so later with a cold compress he places on Spirit’s forehead.  Spirit’s eyes close as they soak in the feeling of being cool, a respite from how warm they’ve felt all day.
“You’re alright, Sprite,” Pigsy assures.  “Get some rest.”
Spirit’s never been one to argue against an order.
They rest.
Their dreams are far from pleasant.  They’re running, unsure as to where and only knowing that should they stop they’ll feel nothing but pain.  They have to keep moving.  Long legs carry them what feels like miles, shadows nipping at their heels as whispers and shouts of rage get closer and closer.
They trip.
They fall.
Tumbling into a wall that wasn’t there before, they scramble to get up, to escape, but walls close in until there’s nowhere to go but backwards, and they can’t do that.
They turn around, staring at the mass of shadows that congeals into a figure.  Eyes, flickering with different colors.  Brown, Purple, Yellow, Blue.  A wooden spoon, a shadow spike, a looming claw, a metal spoon.
Reaching down, the yelling gets louder.
It always touches the same place.  It always digs into the same place.
It always hurts in the same place.
They always scream.
There’s a hand on their shoulder.
Spirit throws a hand towards their latest attacker, claws bared, and
Their wrist is grabbed, and their hand stops, inches from Pigsy’s face.
Spirit blinks.
They’re in Pigsy’s bedroom.
Oh.
“Oh!” Spirit yanks their hand away, cradling it against their chest.  They’re mortified.  “I-I’m sorry, I-uh-I didn’t mean-,”
Pigsy waves a hand, holding out a bowl of soup.
“Don’t worry about it.  MK’s hit me worse, and he’s got monkie kid powers,” He tells them.  “Eat.”
Spirit takes the bowl.  They sip it carefully.  It’s just a simple broth, with a few short cut noodles and some chicken and veggie cubes.  Spirit realizes that they’re hungry a moment after tasting, and the dish is demolished in a minute.
“Thank you,” Spirit whispers, afraid to say it too loud.
Pigsy takes the bowl.
“No problem, kid.  Get some more rest.  You look a little better already,” Pigsy gets up to leave.
“Okay-but!” Spirit reaches a hand out to stop him.  “Um, when I’m better, could you teach me how to make that?”
They gesture to the now empty bowl Pigsy is holding.  Pigsy raises a brow.
“I-I mean,” Spirit fidgets with the blanket.  “It’s different than the, uh, other stuff I know how to make, so...”
They want to know how to make it so when Pigsy is sick, they can do this.  They need to even the score.  Or, moreso, they want to.  Pigsy is nice, almost too much so, and Spirit has to return it.  That’s how a transaction works, right?
Maybe they can never repay Pigsy, but they can certainly try.  It’s terrifying, to be in someone’s debt.  Pigsy could tell them to do anything and they couldn’t say a thing against it.
Pigsy just smiles.  He ruffles their hair, soft.
“Sure, kid.” He replies, heading out of the bedroom.
Spirit thinks Pigsy deserves a lot.  They really need to figure out how to make it so Pigsy has the world.  But maybe that’s for later, because they are very tired, and Pigsy told them to rest.  They ought to listen.
When they fall asleep this time, their dreams are kind.
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tchallasbabymama · 3 years
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M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 5
Hey y’all, here’s the next chapter of M’Baku’s Love. Make sure you check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and to read my other stories! As usual, let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged!
CW: smut
Word count: ~6300
A week later, Shuri’s assistant Nia decided to throw a party. She had invited all of the staff to her place, and as luck would have it, Monae and M’Baku both showed up. Alone. Neicey, who he had gone on a second date with and actually had started to enjoy spending time around, had to babysit her cousins and Derrick was out of town on a business trip to LA. When Monae and M’Baku laid eyes on eachother it was the first time they had seen one another since Monae stormed out and left him alone in that Mexican restaurant. He was the first to look away, which surprised Monae and left her with an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she tried not to dwell on it. It had been too long since she got to unwind and have some fun, so she was determined to have a good time and not let his avoidance get to her. 
Her coworkers were definitely having a better time than she was. Whoever was in charge of the music had the vibes just right and there was the perfect ratio of people dancing to people hanging around, talking, and in many cases flirting. M’Baku had caught the eye of Tonya, one of the volunteers and she stuck by his side the whole night, laughing at his jokes that weren’t that damn funny and touching his arm whenever the opportunity presented itself. Monae rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer before heading to the other side of the apartment to get away from them.  After about an hour and two more beers later, Monae decided that she had been there long enough and went to the kitchen to recycle her last bottle when she found M’Baku there, alone, browsing the table full of snacks. 
He looked good in his crisp white tee and jeans. He wore a wooden bead necklace with a snarling gorilla pendant that hit around mid-chest on him. His line-up was fresh as always and that precious gap in his teeth seemed to shine brighter every time she saw him. He took a  sip from a red cup as he looked her way. 
“Are you just going to ignore me forever?” she asked the almost giant, fueled by liquid courage.
“I am not ignoring you, I am giving you space.” he said matter of factly, taking another sip of whatever he had in his cup.
“DId I ask for that?” she started to draw attention from outside the kitchen.
“Let us have this conversation outside, eh?” He led her through the party, and out the door to the hallway. “Ok now, I know you did not specifically ask that of me, but I felt you needed it and would come to me when you were ready.”
Monae immediately deflated. She had planned to be mad at him and he was ruining the speech she had been brewing in her head all night. 
“Oh, I um. I thought,” she sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose, “I thought you were mad at me for blowing up at you, which would’ve made sense if you were-”
“No, I should not have inserted myself into your relationship business. It was rude of me, and I will not do it again.” She could see the sincerity in his eyes as he reached his hand out to shake hers. “Friends?” 
“Yeah, friends again,” Monae agreed as she shook his hand. “So where’s your girlfriend?”
“Neicey is not my girlfriend.” he responded in haste, almost tripping over his words.
“Neicey? I’m talking about Tonya, the one in there hanging on your every word. She’s probably missing you.”
“Hm. And what of Darryl?” M’Baku asked, purposely butchering the man’s name just to be a dick.
“Derrick.” she rolled her eyes. 
“Yes, Derrick. What of him? Surely he does not know how beautiful you look tonight in his absence.” M’Baku took a step back to take in her appearance. Monae wore a purple bodycon dress that showcased every curve on her voluptuous body. It paired nicely with her new maroon colored fade and eyebrows, and the sneakers on her feet gave the outfit just the right amount of casual flair. Her gold jewelry sparkled against her caramel skin and the dark purple lipstick on her lips was just as crisp as when the night started.
“You’re right, and it’s gonna stay that way,” Monae threatened as she pointed her finger in his face. He snapped his teeth at her and she let out a giggle that he had been missing for days. “If you bite me I’m beating that ass, M’Baku.”
The warrior let out a belly laugh that damn near shook the hallway.
“Please, spare me the pain.”
“Oh, you scared?” Monae squared up playfully and he pulled her in close, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back despite her best efforts to get free from his grasp. 
“See? Too easy.”
Monae melted into him as she stopped fighting and he pulled back to look at her again. After a few moments, neither had let go and the two of them started swaying back and forth to the loud music spilling from their friend’s apartment. Monae laid her head against his chest and he rested his chin on top of her head. He let her arms go and they slid around his broad shoulders. His hand rested at the small of her back, and their feet moved in sync, carrying them to the beat. 
“This is nice,” Monae spoke into his chest.
“Mm.” was all he could say. He kissed the top of her head before leaning down and burying his face in her neck, taking in her scent. 
Monae was now faced with a serious dilemma. She had already decided to end things with Derrick, but she hadn’t exactly told him yet. In her mind she was free to do what she wanted, but in reality that ring on her finger weighed her down once more, so she pulled back from M’Baku’s warm, vanilla-scented embrace.
“M’Baku, I should leave. It’s getting late,” she said as she took a step back, her small hands travelling down his muscular arms to his much bigger ones and intertwining their fingers.
M’Baku checked his watch and was surprised to see it was well after midnight. Thankfully it was a Saturday and the only plans he had for the next day were chores and lazing around watching more tv.
“I will walk you home. Come on, did you leave anything inside?”
“No, I’m good to go,” she pointed to the small purse slung across her body.
He stuck his arm out for her to take and she gladly took it before he led them down the stairwell and out into the cool night. She stayed close to him as she shivered from the windy 60 degree weather, so he pulled his arm from her grasp and placed it around her shoulders to keep her warm, the weather not affecting him in the slightest. Her body immediately felt better, happy to be kept warm and especially happy to be so close to him. She took in his scent once more and tried to place his cologne. He smelled of vanilla and something else, something “masculine.”
“Better?” he asked.
“Much, thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he cleared his throat, “that is what friends are for.”
“Hm, yeah, friends...M’Baku can I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything you want to know.”
“What you said at the restaurant the other day, did you mean it?” she looked up at him and made eye contact.
“Every word. Monae, even without my painfully obvious feelings for you-” Monae cut him off with a sarcastic gasp and he booped her nose. “-hush. Even without those feelings I would have said the same thing. He does not respect you, Monae, and I do not like seeing my friend disrespected like that. And as someone who would love to be much closer to you, I do not like seeing you suffer when you could have someone better.”
His confidence reverberated down into her core.
“Better, huh?”
“I could give you a whole kingdom if you wanted it,” he stopped them and stared deep into her eyes. She moved in closer without even realizing it, but he did and followed her lead until they were almost nose to nose.
“I-I want you to know that I...I thought about what you said,” she stuttered out as his hand wrapped around her waist for the second time tonight, “and you’re right. I realized it as soon as I left. When he comes back from his business trip, I’m going to break the news to him.” 
Without saying a word, he pulled her in the rest of the way and kissed her. Monae melted under his touch, but pulled back before she got too carried away. She smiled at him and he smiled back, both of them feeling a little air-headed after the kiss.
“Let’s keep moving, it’s just a couple more blocks.”
“How could I forget? That was also a very good night,” he grinned while Monae blushed, both reminiscing on their first kiss. They walked the last two blocks in comfortable silence, his arm still slung over her shoulder and her fingers intertwined with his, completely engulfed by their size. When they arrived at the door to her apartment building neither wanted to part. Monae went back and forth in her mind about what she should do. She knew that the right thing would be to say goodnight and go their separate ways, but she wasn’t in the mood for doing the right thing. 
“Would you want to come up? I know it's late but I’m enjoying your company,” Monae asked, hoping he would say yes.
“Are you sure that is such a good idea?” he asked her with his eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side. He knew what would most likely happen if he stepped through that door, and while he was 110% on board, he wanted to make sure they were on the same page.
“I can behave myself if you can,” she flirted, fluttering her eyes at him. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but who was he to turn down her offer? 
“It is you who cannot behave, Monae. I am simply an innocent bystander,” he responded with a wink as she unlocked the door and he held it open for her. They walked up the three flights of stairs as they went back and forth arguing over who can and can’t keep their hands and lips to themselves. When they arrived at her apartment she took a deep breath before unlocking the door and letting M’Baku into her world.
He stepped through the door and what he saw was almost exactly what he expected. It was a quaint little apartment that smelled like fresh baked cookies, with huge colorful tapestries and paintings covering the walls. He noticed everything, from the dishes in the sink to the photos on the wall in the hallway leading to what he presumed to be her bedroom. He noticed a small table in the corner that was covered with a white lace tablecloth and had old pictures, a glass of water, and a candle burning. He recognized it as a shrine or altar and became even more intrigued. He walked over to take a closer look.
“Are these your ancestors?” he asked Monae, noticing the resemblance between her and the people in the old black and white photographs. She came up on his left side and looked at the old pictures with him, staring at the faces of her family members that came before her,
“Mhm, this here is my parent’s at their wedding, and that’s my great granddaddy over there with his seven brothers and their wives. My great grandma on her porch in South Carolina, my baby cousin who passed when he was two, and my great aunt Tootie” she pointed out her family members as he silently thanked them for bringing Monae into the world.
He continued to look around and was confused by an oddly shaped piece of carpet-covered furniture in the corner until he saw a small cat sit up and stretch before coming over to greet Monae.
“M’Baku meet Juju, Juju meet M’Baku,” she said as Juju rubbed herself against M’Baku’s legs.
Monae found it strange considering Juju never liked anyone, not even Derrick after all these years.
“I take it she approves of me?” He asked, leaning down to pet her and generating a purr that erupted from her vocal chords.
“Seems that way. You know, she’s not normally a people person.”
“Yes, but I am not just any ‘people’”he flashed his cocky grin and Monae rolled her eyes playfully at his mild arrogance. 
“Anyways, want anything to drink? Or a snack?” She asked as she walked towards her small kitchen.
M’Baku wandered around the rest of the living room area with Juju on his heels, taking in everything he could. He noticed the bookshelf in the corner was full of books on Black American art and history, some of which he would definitely ask to borrow. The pictures on the blue accent wall behind the couch caught his eye and on the way over he noticed the low coffee table covered in colored pencils and sketch pads of various sizes. He avoided the cat toys on the ground and walked past a small garden of assorted plants in the windows. 
“Uh, just water, thank you.” He responded as he stopped on a picture of Monae with a younger girl that looked just like her, but with braids instead of a fade. “Is this Jazz?”
Monae looked up from pouring water out of her Brita filter, almost spilling it everywhere. “Yeah that was from when I moved her into her dorm. The picture to the right is of all four of us at a family reunion right before my parents died. Then there’s a picture of my girls Ari and Yasmin, we met in college and we’ve been inseparable since. Then there’s me and your new best friend when I first adopted her.”
“No Darryl?” he smirked.
“He’s not one for pictures, but he’s not what I want to talk about tonight.”
M’Baku’s ears perked up and he turned around to face her as she brought him his glass of water and they sat down on opposite sides of the couch.
“Thank you. What did you want to discuss?” he asked, tamping his excitement down.
Monae bit her lip and looked away for a moment, deep in thought. He didn’t push, just sipped his water until she finally spoke.
“We’ve been sort of dancing around each other for a few weeks now and I think we should talk about it,” she said while leading him to the couch before the two of them sat down and she continued, “I know I’m still engaged for now, but I know you’re not going to be here very long and I don’t want to waste time. I like you, M’Baku. You’re charming and fine as hell and kind and fine as hell and I love how when you talk about the Jabari your eyes light up with so much pride in your people...it’s cute, you’re cute.” The whole time she was talking her nerves had her heart beating out of her chest. She knew he felt the same way, but vocalizing her feelings had never been her strong suit.
“Am I, now? I thought I was ‘fine as hell’.” he joked before she hit him with a small throw pillow.
“I’ll demote you to ‘just aight’ if you keep playing with me.”
He felt the need to keep playing. Aware of his own strength, he lightly threw the pillow back at her, smacking her dead in her face.
“Oh it’s on.”
She reached for the pillow, only to be pulled back into his grasp.
“Why are you so determined to lose fights today?” he asked her while restraining her yet again. She struggled against his grasp and jumped when he accidentally tickled her. His whole face brightened as a mischievous smile slowly appeared on his face. “Are you ticklish?”
“No!” She fought against him again to no avail. He started tickling her and she struggled to get out of his grasp. She couldn’t stop laughing and could barely get any words out. “M’Baku s-stopppp, ohmigod.”
Somehow he ended up on top of her when she struggled to get away. His face was mere inches from hers when he stopped and she opened her eyes. Without wasting any time, she pulled his face down, crashing their lips together. Their mouths moved in sync as the kiss started to heat up and Monae slipped her tongue into his mouth. Their hips grinded against each other as she opened her legs to let him in closer. She felt his hard dick rub against her and moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his third leg so close to her pussy. He felt the heat from her center and his hips involuntarily moved towards it, causing her to let out yet another moan.
M’Baku knew what she wanted, but he couldn’t give it to her just yet. He knew her relationship was over, but he wanted to wait and fuck her after she was fully single. However, he had no problem with making her cum in other ways. The chief pulled away and kissed down her neck to her collarbone and back up to her ear.
“Can I taste you?” he whispered to her softly, making her pussy even wetter for him.
“Please.” she whimpered.
The Jabari chief kissed down to her chest before looking back up at her for reassurance. She nodded her head and leaned forward to undo the zipper on her dress. It fell forward, releasing her breasts from their cradle and his mouth watered as Monae pulled the dress over her head and he was met with the sight of her almost naked body. All she had on was a pair of white lace panties and two nipple rings he had somehow not noticed before. M’Baku growled at the sight before going in for another kiss. His hands explored her soft skin and his lips eventually broke free of hers to kiss down to her chest. Her moans filled the room as his tongue swirled around her nipple, the piercings making her extra sensitive to his touch. 
He hadn't even gotten to her pussy yet and she was already losing her mind. Every kiss felt like fire as he kissed his way down the center of her body, but she stopped him as she remembered something important.
“Wait! I-I haven’t shaved or waxed in a while.”
“...ok, I am not following,” he said as his hands softly caressed her stomach and sides. 
“I mean, there’s hair down there.”
“That is how it is supposed to be, no?” he asked, genuinely confused by her concern.
“N-yes, but...I just wanted you to know in case it bothered you.”
M’Baku internally rolled his eyes at the thought of some hair stopping him from enjoying his meal. The American men she was used to dealing with had obviously made her self-conscious about her body, but he was going to show her otherwise.
“Something like that could never bother me,” he kissed her belly button, “I am a grown man, you are a grown woman, it is to be expected.” He kissed lower on her abdomen and he could feel the tension release from her body at his words.
His long fingers gripped the sides of her panties and he looked up at her. She nodded and he slowly pulled them down and off her body before staring between her legs. Monae started getting antsy after a minute of him just sitting there, and began to close her legs only to have him grab her knees to stop her. 
“You are beautiful.” he said, entranced by the folds of her pussy.  
“Show me just how beautiful.”
M’Baku chuckled and she grew concerned. She didn’t know what she just asked for, but she’d soon find out.
He leaned in to kiss her inner thighs, and she almost came from the sensation. When he bit into her she moaned out and he chuckled again. Cocky bastard, she thought.
His lips made their way to her center and lightly dusted her pussy as he spoke.
“Glory to Hanuman,” he said grace before digging into his late night snack. He slowly tongue kissed her pussy lips the same way he kissed her mouth and she let out a deep moan at the contact. He tongued her down and sucked on her clit like his life depended on it, and all she could do was call out his name. He switched gears and inserted his pointed tongue inside her while his fingers came up to play with her clit. His tongue was so thick and warm inside her, and the way his pillowy lips rested on hers as he tongue fucked her had her moaning to the heavens.
“Mmm’Baku, right there, uh!”
His tongue plunged deeper into her and swirled around her walls, making her cum all in his mouth. He drank it all up and returned to her clit, where his lips immediately closed in around her bud and sucked as his tongue played with her pearl. Monae got louder and louder and as he slid his two thick fingers inside her she busted on him again, covering his hand with her juices. He didn’t stop though, flicking her clit with his tongue as his fingers picked up speed inside her. He added a third finger and she cried out. He came up for air and hovered over her as his hand still worked her insides.
“If you cannot handle three fingers you cannot handle the rest of me,” he kissed her deeply and she loved how she tasted on his lips. He pulled back and stared into her eyes before connecting their foreheads. “Do you have one more for me, Monae?”
She nodded with a pathetic whimper and her head rolled back as he curled his fingers inside her as if he was coaxing her cum out of hiding. Her leg shook as a devious smile appeared on his face. His fingers moved quicker and her moans went up a few octaves and several decibels. Monae’s leg began to shake when he pulled out and rubbed her clit with her wetness dripping from his fingers.
“Come on, babygirl, cum on my fingers,” he said as he entered her once again, rubbing over her g-spot and causing her body to short circuit. The tension building in her lower half snapped when he tongue kissed her neck before taking a bite. Her juices flowed over his hand and onto the couch beneath them. He growled into her, removing his fingers and lightly tracing them around her oversensitive pussy. He sat up and licked his fingers clean without breaking eye contact as his other hand trailed up and down Monae’s still spasming thigh. 
She reached down and collected some of her wetness on her fingers,  bringing it to her mouth for a taste. The lust in his eyes grew as he watched her and so did his already stiff dick. He reached to adjust himself and Monae’s eyes followed his hand, bugging out of her head when she saw the size of it.
“Do not worry, I am not fucking you tonight,” he said with a soft smile.
“What?! Why not?” She sat up on the couch, his eyes being drawn to her bouncing tits.
M’Baku leaned in and softly kissed her lips before adjusting himself once more. She reached out to feel his dick for herself and he let her grab it. She had no idea how that thing was going to fit inside her, but she was gonna try her damnedest. She stared up at him with her best begging eyes and rubbed his dick through his jeans making his breath pick up pace, but his hand came to gently move hers away. He brought it to his lips for a kiss and she pouted.
“Don’t give me that look, babygirl. You can get this when you’re single.” he gripped his dick and her pussy jumped. 
“So you just do all that to me and dip? Nigga my legs don’t work!” she said, indignant that he even considered leaving. They both broke into laughter.
“I am sorry about your legs.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You are right, I am not sorry in the least bit.”
They laughed again before he leaned in for another soft kiss.
“You don’t have to go,” she spoke softly.
He kissed her forehead then her neck before standing upright and putting his shoes back on. When he turned to look at her she was sitting up looking like a goddess in her naked glory. The pout on her face refused to leave.
“Trust me, I do.” He kissed her lips, ”Break up with him, then I am all yours.”
With that he left, needing to get home and take care of himself as soon as possible. She fell back onto her couch, mind racing over what just occurred. They had admitted their feelings for each other and he had eaten her pussy so good she swears she saw somebody’s god. She didn’t know how to process what she just went through as she sat naked on her couch in a state of shock, already planning how to dump Derrick.
———-
When Monday came, Monae and M’Baku were both unsure of what to expect from the other. He had spent the weekend panicking, hoping he didn’t come on too strong for her. What if she still stayed with Derrick? What if she thought him to be too promiscuous, out here tonguing down engaged women like he has no home training? He could have simply waited until Monae broke it off with Derrick, but he figured she would want to do it in person and he won’t be back in Oakland until Friday.
On the other hand, Monae had spent the entire weekend trying to ignore the lingering feeling of his tongue on her pussy. She had it bad. M’Baku had no business leaving her in that state, but she understood why he had to do it. She kept herself busy all weekend, trying not to just sit around and think about him, but when Monday arrived her anxiety came at her fast. Would it be awkward between them? Would he act like nothing happened? She wasn’t sure which one was worse.
As usual, they arrived at the same time and she was relieved to see him smile at her. She returned it and he lumbered over to help her carry her bags of whatever crafts she had lined up for the kids today.
“Here, let me,” he said as his fingers looped around the handle. “You know, you do not have to get these supplies yourself, there is plenty of money-“
She flashed her black card courtesy of the king himself. “Oh I don’t pay for any of this, your king does. You think I’d spend my money when I’m working for the richest man on earth? You must think I’m crazy.” She fussed as they walked into the building. He grinned the whole way, but it was short lived because as soon as they walked in they saw Neicey and Tonya, both of whom perked up upon seeing M’Baku. 
“You go ahead, I will bring this up in a little bit.”
“Mmmhm, I bet you will,” she said under her breath. “Hi ladies!” Monae waved before making her way around them and up the stairs. M’Baku could hear her cackling the whole way and would have fought a smile of his own had he not been faced with not one but two women with unreturned feelings for him. .
“So, M’Baku, are we still on for Friday? I got my dress already, it’s so pretty you’re gonna love it!”
Tonya shrunk into herself upon the realization that M’Baku was the guy Neicey had just been fawning over. She had hoped her flirting at the party was fruitful, but it didn’t seem to be.
“I’ll catch y’all later.” She said as she slunk away. 
M’Baku sent her a small smile and she rolled her eyes at him. He wasn’t sure why, but he let it go and returned his gaze to Neicey.
“So Friday, is that not the charity gala?”
“Duh silly, didn’t you know that when you asked me?” 
Not exactly, he thought to himself.
“Of course, I just uh forgot for a moment. Long weekend,” he brushed it off.
“Well how about you tell me about it over lunch?” 
“I cannot today, I am afraid I have already made plans with Monae.”
Neicey’s face soured at the mention of her name and M’Baku noticed.
“You sure do spend a lot of time with her…”
“Well yes, she is my friend.”
“Yeah but I’m trying to be more than just your friend,” she leaned in closer and grabbed his collar. “I want to do things to you that friends don’t do to each other. I wanna be more than that.”
He pulled away from her much to her dismay. Thankfully they were at work so it was easy to pass it off as professionalism.
“Neicey we are at work, and remember I am only here a couple more months.”
“I know, but still. I want whatever I can get.”
M’Baku cleared his throat and looked up to see N’Jadaka coming down the same stairs Monae just escaped on, so he took the opportunity to break away from Neicey and greet the royalty in his presence.
“Excuse me, Neicey,” he cut the conversation short and jogged over to the prince. “N’Jadaka, your timing could not have been more perfect.” He let out a small sigh of relief as the two of them continued down the hall to Nakia’s office.
“What’s up big man?”
“I need to talk to you,” M’Baku waited until they were out of earshot to continue. “It’s about Monae.”
N’Jadaka shrugged as he opened Nakia’s door and M’Baku looked in to see Nakia, T’Challa, and Shuri already in the middle of a discussion about the gala. 
“Might as well tell the whole class,” N’Jadaka said with a smirk planted on his face.
“Tell us what?” T’Challa asked, concerned there was a problem with the Center.
“It’s nothing bad, chill out T,” the prince reassured his cousin as he took the empty seat next to Nakia. The king nodded and motioned for M’Baku to continue.
M”Baku hated being put on the spot.
“Um, we should not have this conversation with sensitive ears around,” he nodded towards Shuri who rolled her eyes.
“I’m nineteen!”
“And?” he asked.
T’Challa cut in before the two started going at it, “Shuri can stay. Bast only knows what she’s heard living with N’Jadaka.”
The prince wanted to defend himself, but realized his cousin was right. 
“Alright, well,” he cleared his throat, “Monae and I had....relations.”
“Nigga just say y’all fucked, she ain’t a child!”
“We did not fuck, I ate her out, that’s all.”
“‘That’s all’? That’s a big deal, M’Baku. Is she still engaged?” the queen asked, all eyes turning to the Jabari chief.
“Yes.” M’Baku said after clearing his throat. N’Jadaka, Shuri and Nakia all spoke over each other.
“Daaaamn, that’s cold.
“And I, oop-.”
“M’Baku!”
The king chuckled and his wife pinched his arm. 
“She’s calling it off-”
“There’s nothing to call off, they never even planned the wedding.” N’Jadaka said under his breath, also receiving a pinch from Nakia. “Ouch! Look here-”
“Hello, focus,” Shuri clapped her hands at her cousin who rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, grumbling about being treated like a child. She turned back to M’Baku, “So what now?”
“I have no idea, but I inadvertently asked Neicey to be my date to the gala.”
“How do you accidentally ask someone to-“ T’Challa started and was cut back off by M’Baku.
“I asked her out for Friday but I forgot about the gala.”
“Daaaamn. You just got the sauce, huh?” the prince mused.
“I do not know what that means.”
“Neither do I,” T’Challa added.
“It means playboy over here has women flocking to him. Don't think I didn’t hear about Tonya trying to get her share, I hear everything around here.”
M’Baku groaned and put his head in his hands. Nakia got up to sit next to him and T’Challa slid into her vacant seat. 
“You really like Monae, don’t you?”
He looked up at her and nodded before looking down at his hands to avoid looking at anyone in the room. 
“Too much,” he confessed. “I know I will only be here until the end of the summer, but she...she brightens my day every time I see her. I never thought I would say this, but she makes me want to stay here.”
The other four Wakandans eyebrows all raised at his confession. 
“So this is serious? On both ends?” 
“I believe so.”
“Maybe she’ll come back with you? Or you two could try long distance-“
“Jabariland is too cold for her liking and I am unsure how well long distance would work.”
“It works for us,” Nakia and T’Challa both smiled warmly at each other.
“Yes but you two have history. That is no way to start a relationship.” M’Baku sighed. “I know it will be short-lived, but I want her as long as I can have her.”
Shuri hated to see M’Baku like this. He was usually so loud and confident, but this unsure in love version of him had her wheels turning. 
“What if we have a study abroad program? We could have students come learn Wakandan dance and other arts, then she could come back and forth to Wakanda for work. It would still be long-distance, but not all the time.” Shuri suggested.
“Munchkin’s got a point-“
“I’m nineteen!”
“So?” 
Shuri rolled her eyes at her insufferable cousin.
“The kids would love it. Challa?” Nakia asked her husband. 
“It might take a while to implement, there’s a lot of red tape, then there’s the issue of security-“
“But it’s possible?”’M’Baku asked with hope in his eyes.
“Maybe…” T’Challa really didn’t want to make any promises even though it was a good idea. 
“A maybe is better than a no!” Shuri was beaming. “M’Baku, I told you I hate that David guy-“
“Derrick” T’Challa laughed.
“I don’t care. Anyways, as I said before I’m Team M’Baku. You and Monae would be so cute.”
“We would,” M’Baku said, beaming from ear to ear.
“So what are you waiting for? You said it yourself, she’s done with him.”
“She’s done but he does not know that yet. He will be back Friday for the gala.” His jaw clenched at having to see Monae on his arm, but he then remembered he would be doing the same with Neicey.
“Ugh, it would be so much easier to fall for a single woman. Why did I do this?” M’Baku spoke to himself aloud.
The other four shared a look, all noticing that he said “fall” as though he were falling in love. There were a lot of unspoken words in that moment.
“The two of us can run interference if you need it.” Shuri offered, referring to herself and her big cousin.
“Yeah she’s a great anti-wingman. You know how many hookups she’s ruined for me? Too damn many.” N’Jadaka supplied as Shuri flipped him off. ”Trust me, she’ll be good at this.”
M’Baku’s wheels started turning now. If his friends kept Neicey and Devon busy somehow, he and Monae could have some time alone. He really hoped it would work, because otherwise the gala was going to be one long headache.
Next Chapter
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