#and obviously i keep pausing my report to get up and dance

[youaremysunshine-court]

Lowkey wondering why everyone is saying the lalalala choreo is hard im a shit dancer and I learned it in half an hour

#tbf i learned like the entire choreo for maniac in half an hour so it is like more intense but #its just fast #the steps themselves are fairly easy #i cant wait for the dance practice video to come out i really want to learn the whole thing #i love rockstar btw #best album ever #i have lalalala on repeat obviously #and obviously i keep pausing my report to get up and dance #best song ever props 3racha

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Hungry For Heaven

Summary: Beau knows he shouldn’t have feelings for his young, pretty secretary. But he can’t help it. Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4.6k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is my second entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked Dio’s song “Hungry For Heaven.” I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, Cain is a creep for plot reasons, my gratuitous use of italics and song lyrics, a coyote ugly reference, female receiving oral sex, power imbalance

His girl. Cyclone’s girl. Simpson’s girl. The Admiral’s girl. That’s how most people referred to you when speaking with Beau. And he had never admitted how much he liked it, instead telling people to at least acknowledge your rank. But in the dark of his rooms, in the recesses of his mind, Beau liked it. He liked that you were his. 

Sort of.

Beau knew it was cliche. Falling for his young, pretty secretary was probably the most cliche thing that he could have ever done. But it hadn’t been a choice, really. You had appeared one day, three years ago, like a whirlwind and Beau had been left in your wake. You kept a tight ship, just as he did. You had been a perfect match for him, keeping him organized and on time for all his meetings and classes. You had made the mountains of paperwork he was always saddled with much easier to swallow and he had thought he was dreaming when you’d first handed over a thick stack of papers and told him he just needed to sign at the bottom of the last page. You’d basically done a week of reports for him and had left Beau with a pen in his hand and a tight stomach as you sauntered back out of his office. But that was what you did, he learned. You made his life easier. Gave him time to breathe. You were his girl. 

It was more than a little embarrassing to realize his…affection for you was noticed by anyone. Thankfully, the only person he knew for a fact suspected anything was Admiral Bates, who had quietly told him that it was about time he was happy. Embarrassing. It was a kindness, true, but Beau would have preferred if he hadn’t said anything at all. These feelings were inappropriate and completely against Naval regulation and protocol and he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not staying much later, are you?” 

Beau looked up from his computer, reading yet another request from Maverick about his insane dog fight simulations he wanted the newest Top Gun class to try, to see you in the doorway of his office. The usual, soft smile was on your face—the smile he liked to think you reserved just for him. His mouth curled up at the edges too; he couldn’t help it. “Just trying to rein in Maverick.” 

You scoffed and shook your head but your smile remained. “You’re going to be here all night, then. Again.” 

Beau had to hide his laugh behind his hand. You knew him too well. “I won’t.” 

You hummed, obviously not believing him. “I’ll order you dinner. Do you want Chinese or Italian? You had barbecue two nights ago.” 

His heart twisted, like it usually did whenever you so easily showed how well you knew him. “Italian, if you could, Lieutenant. With-”

“With extra breadsticks, I know. I’ll make sure they don’t forget again.” 

You were gone from the doorway before he could thank you but you returned not thirty minutes later with his promised dinner and another smile. A cursory glance let him know that the extra breadsticks were indeed included this time and you set a silverware roll from the mess hall beside the bag. 

“You’re too good to me, Lieutenant.” Beau winced as soon as the words left his mouth but you simply smiled. “And I thought you were on your way out for the weekend?” 

Your smile widened. “I am. But I wasn’t about to leave you hungry.” 

Beau’s entire chest ached and he tried to smile again but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Big plans?” 

“My friend’s bachelorette party. We are going bar hopping after getting pole dance lessons.” You paused before a grimace crumpled your features. “You didn’t need to know that. I apologize. That was unprofessional.” 

Beau felt his throat bob, mouth suddenly dry. Seeing you in your khakis or in any of the other Naval uniforms had been all Beau had been given, aside from when you needed to grab something from your office over the weekend a few months ago and he got to see you in a sinful pair of shorts and low cut top. But imagining you in one of those tight, tiny dresses he knew women your age wore and learning how to dance like that had his stomach in knots. 

He was being unprofessional. He was supposed to be the one who approved or rejected paperwork for relationships like this. He wasn’t supposed to be wanting one. And he wasn’t even sure if you saw him as anything other than the old man who needed help keeping his meetings and paperwork in a row. 

Sure, you joked with him, nursed a glass of expensive bourbon with him after the Uranium Mission, and Beau liked to think he caught you appreciating the view when he partook in the swim call during your last shared deployment and you handed him a towel to dry off…but that did not mean anything in the grand scheme of things. 

He knew that. 

But he couldn’t get you out of his head. 

“I hope you have a good time. You’ve certainly earned it. I know I run you ragged here.” 

The hard line of your shoulders lessened and your smile returned as you shook your head. Your hand settled over his and you gently squeezed his fingers, touch not retreating immediately and Beau tried not to revel in it too much. “I love working for you. You have to know that by now.” Beau watched your mouth open again before you bit your lip. 

Beau could imagine a million different things you could have said after that. But you didn’t say any of them. You didn’t say anything at all aside from a soft, “anyway, have a good night, Admiral. Please don’t stay too late.”

And then you were gone, leaving Beau alone with the scent of your floral perfume, the echo of your warm hand on his, and an ache in his chest. 

It was fine. 

This was fine. 

He ate his dinner as he tried to find the least insane simulation Maverick had requested and hoped that it would end well next week. Honestly, having the Captain as the permanent Top Gun instructor was bad for his heart.

“Are you coming?”

Beau looked up from his paperwork to see Admiral Cain in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Oh, that was right. Cain had been invited to see the current Top Gun class in action. The higher ups thought it would be a way to “soften” Cain’s animosity toward manned aircrafts. It was ridiculous because Beau outranked Cain and he still walked around like his shit didn’t stink.

Mostly what it did was raise Beau’s blood pressure and had you running circles around base trying to keep Cain out of Beau’s office. It was a valiant effort, Beau knew, but Cain hardly ever followed any recommendation from someone who he deemed ‘beneath him.’ 

He glanced down at the calendar on his desk and saw your neat handwriting over today’s date. Drinks with Cain? :( 

Dammit.

“Yeah, let me just clean up and-”

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” And then he was gone, too. 

Biting back every swear he’d ever learned, Beau stood and cleared his desk of his dinner’s trash and filed everything away to deal with on Monday. He pulled on a different shirt and slacks he kept in his office’s closet for times like this and tried not to seem too unenthusiastic when he met Cain out in the parking lot. The effort was completely negated when the other man started bragging about the bar he wanted to try, touting that it was apparently popular with younger women who preferred older men. 

And while Beau did think of you for a moment, his stomach still rolled with the thought that Cain was on the prowl for someone younger when Beau knew that he had a wife and kids waiting at home for him. But still, he went, knowing the higher ups would frown at him not wanting to “play nice.” 

(Beau pocketed the thought that he could have Cain dishonorably discharged if he actually did something.) 

The drive to the bar was thankfully short and Beau had repeatedly told himself that it would be fine to leave after one overpriced drink before parking. He could hear the classic rock pouring from the stout brick building and he could still hear the waves crashing against the shore as he stepped up toward the front door. The bouncer at the front waved him in and Beau saw Cain already striding up toward the bar, turning his head to watch as a woman, carrying a tray of shots to a different table, walked by. 

Cain settled at the bar and Beau begrudgingly stood near him and waited for one of the three bartenders to take their order. When they were noticed, Cain was more than a little shameless with staring down the bartender’s shirt when she came to their corner of the bar top so Beau made a mental note to give her an extra tip with his drink as a silent apology. 

“What can I get started for you?” She asked, turning to Beau with a roll of her eyes. She’d apparently already had a long night. 

“Cognac, please.” 

The bartender quirked an eyebrow but almost smiled. “You seem like a top shelf kind of guy. Am I right?” 

Beau nodded and watched her grab a bottle of cognac he also had in his personal bar back home (where he’d rather be, but that was beside the point) and poured a few fingers of it into a glass before setting it atop a monogrammed napkin and pushing it in front of him. He handed over his card without a fuss and she seemed grateful when he didn’t ask to open a tab. 

Beau vacated his spot at the bar after leaving his promised tip and it was quickly taken by a woman who had to be about your age with a sash across her chest that read “Made of DisHonor” in bold, pink lettering. It was funny—there must be a bachelorette party here somewhere. 

Again, he thought of you—you had said your friend’s bachelorette party was tonight. 

As Beau settled into an overstuffed booth near one of the stained glass windows, he saw Cain still at the bar, now turned around to lean against it as he sipped on his martini. His gaze was bouncing from one woman to the next while completely ignoring the other men who would have probably preferred his spot at the bar to order. But it hardly mattered, really. Beau would have been content with finishing his drink by himself and not interacting with Cain at all. But Cain did eventually did spot him and Beau raised his glass in half hearted welcome but hoped that it would not be taken. 

Cain didn’t pick up on the abject disinterest on Beau’s face and started to make his way over. Dammit. However, he made it only a half dozen steps before getting pulled to a stop by a woman in a tight dress and a bright smile. 

Damn. All right. Apparently the reputation this bar had was not completely unfounded. 

Beau was quick to drag his gaze away from the uncomfortable scene and spotted the girl with the sash walking away from the bar with a tray of what looked like Jell-O shots in her hands. Beau watched her go with a smile, remembering his days back in college when his tongue was blue from drinks like those. She quickly passed out the small plastic cups and the grip Beau had on his cognac nearly slipped when he recognized one of the women in her group. 

You. 

God. You had always been beautiful but right now you were truly something else. Sinful and ethereal all at once. Stunning. Short dress. High heels. Burgundy lips. You were dressed for the festivities. Your sash read “Miss Behaving.” 

Of course it did. 

The bride, a cute woman in a tiny white dress with a giant white bow on the back of her head, herded everyone a little bit out of the throughway so a small group of men could get to the bar without needing to walk around. And you ended up closer to him. He could hear your laugh over the music as your friend pushed one of the Jell-O shots into your hand. 

“I’m driving tonight! I can only have one drink.” 

The woman with the Made of Dishonor sash pouted but still made sure your fingers were curled around the tiny plastic cup. “You said that at the last two bars, too. That’s why I got you a non-alcoholic Jell-O shot. Congrats. That is pure sugar and water, babe.” 

You laughed and Beau found himself smiling at the sound of it; he liked hearing you be happy. And he should have known that you would be the designated driver for your friends—you were always taking care of someone. (Usually it was him.) 

He watched you and your friends take the caps off the shots and clink them together with a shout of cheers for the bride as he took another sip of his own drink. It nearly came right back out as he coughed, watching your tongue skirt around the plastic. 

“There we go!” The bride cheered before patting your cheek with uncoordinated fingers but you laughed anyway. “I want you to have fun. Have fun with me.” 

“I am having fun! I promise,” you said before catching her hand and kissing her fingers, earning a giggle of your own. “And tonight isn’t about me!”

“I picked this bar for you!” The maid of honor said with a laugh of her own. “I was hoping I would be able to get your mind off that man who shall not be named.” “No, you chose it because they let you dance on the bar.” “That’s besides the point,” she retorted, finger pointed in your direction. “Two birds, one stone or whatever.” 

“What?” The bride asked, dragging out the single syllable. 

The maid of honor shook her head. “Babe, it has been over a year and you’re still hung up on him. You either need to get under him or get over him.” 

You swirled your finger around the empty, plastic container, pretending to care about the remnants of your Jell-O shot. “I can’t help it.” 

“What’s so special about him?” Another woman asked, stealing a second shot. “A year’s a long time.” 

“Oh no,” one of your friends groaned. “Don’t get her started.”

The bride pouted again. “But I wanna hear it. I don’t hear anything anymore! I don’t even know who we’re talking about!” 

“I’ve told you about him twice but that just…doesn’t matter,” you said, probably noting how intoxicated she was at the moment. “You’re busy with wedding planning, sweetheart. We don’t want to bother you.” 

She waved it away, pout persisting. “Tell me. Tell me right now! I’m your best…” she hiccuped. “Best friend. Tell me.” 

You licked your lips before sighing. “He’s…my boss.” 

There was an answering squeal from the bride and a few others in your group before you waved it away with a halfhearted scowl, like you were trying to keep the smile from your face. 

The grip on his drink was near painful now. 

You were talking about him. You had been hung up on him for over a year. 

“He’s just handsome and kind and funny. He’s nice when he wants to be and he’s always nice to me.” 

“But not to everyone else, right?” The maid of honor said, sounding like she’d heard this before. 

Beau adjusted his posture to try to hear your group better over the blaring guitars and thumping drums. He wanted to know what you had been saying—apparently repeatedly. 

“Yeah. I mean, he runs a tight ship-”

“That is a terrible pun.” 

“-but he tries to keep everyone safe and he just expects everyone else to do the same. So-”

“You’re burying the lede here. He’s smoking hot. A complete silver fox who’s got a banging bod.” 

You gaped at the Maid of Honor’s outburst and Beau watched your mouth open and close a few more times without a single word coming out. Is that what you had told your friends?

“And he’s sweet to you?” The bride repeated, hazy eyes sparkling. “You hafta marry him.” 

“They’re a sight for sore eyes. Good choice.” 

Beau felt something in his neck pop when he quickly turned his head to see Cain settling opposite him in the booth. The other man’s eyes were dragging all over your group without a care in the world. Dragging all over you. “Did you strike out?” The words were out of his mouth before he could even begin to think of a different response. “I saw you talking to someone else.” It was a pitiful recovery but Beau hid his distaste for the entire situation behind another gulp of his liquor. 

Cain’s mouth curled into a scowl for a moment. “You’ve been sitting here alone all night. You’re not doing any better.” A familiar sneer pushed at his features before he once again looked at your group. “Are you one of those that just likes to look?” 

Thankfully or not, Cain didn’t wait for an answer and stood again, making his way over to your group. Just for a moment, Beau thought about just leaving. Just getting up and leaving and pretending this entire night never happened. 

“A-Admiral Cain.” 

Your voice cut through Beau’s thoughts with ease. 

“I…I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Cain squinted at you, probably trying to place your face and Beau saw the exact moment Cain recognized you, a smirk pushing at his mouth. A few of your friends started whispering into each other’s ears, probably wondering if this was the Admiral you were hung up on. “Ah, Lieutenant, I should have known it was you.” 

“Oh?” 

Cain’s smirk grew. “Yes ma’am. I think I’d recognize that-”

Beau had heard quite enough and stood abruptly, cognac still in his hand. “I think we’ve had enough tonight, Admiral. Time to head out.” 

The shock on your face only grew more apparent as you looked at him. “Admiral Simpson. Um…h-hi.” 

“That’s him,” the maid of honor hissed into the bride’s ear. 

Cain’s eyes were hard as they bored into the side of Beau’s face. He could feel them. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were even more beautiful up close. Dammit. Again.

“Why don’t we let the ladies decide if I’ve had enough?”

Your eyes went wide and you took a step in front of your friends, hands fanning out to keep them behind you. “I apologize, sir, but I don’t think that is entirely appropriate.” 

“It could be our little secret and shouldn’t I be the one who says whether or not something is inappropriate? I’m sure we can all keep a secret.” 

Something Beau had spent years trying to suppress started to bite at the back of his mind. Cold rage. He moved to step in front of Cain, blocking you from the other man’s gaze. “We’re done here, Cain.” 

The tense line of his shoulders relaxed when he felt your warm hand press against his back. A quiet thank you. And the simple touch had warmth bleeding over him. 

“We are just about to leave-”

“Bride and babes!” The bartender who had served Beau hollered. “You’re up!” 

The maid of honor let out a curse and muttered something about never planning anything ever again before pushing everyone toward the bar again. And then Cain was saying something, Beau could hear the rumble of his voice at the back of his mind like a buzzing fly, but Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You as you tugged down your skirt after it had ridden up when you climbed. 

You as you helped the bride step onto one of the barstools. 

You as you followed suit until you and the rest of your friends were lined up on the bar. 

“Ladies and gents,” the bartender’s voice cut through the din of the bar just before the last song ended. “We have a special group here tonight. And they want to put on a little show for you all.” 

The crowd gave a raucous cheer and then the opening chords of a song he knew well swelled over the bar’s speakers. And then you (and your friends) started to dance. It was filled with spins and giggles followed by twists and turns that had your legs nearly glowing in the low light of the bar as Dio continued to sing. 

You're in danger, the last of a line

But the vision lasts forever…

The watching crowd hollered when you and the maid of honor showed off the moves you must have learned at your pole dancing lessons on either side of the bride. Beau couldn’t take his eyes off you. Wouldn’t. 

“I see it now.” Cain’s voice pulled his attention for just a moment. “You want her all to yourself.” 

He didn’t deign it worthy of a response. And honestly, what could he say? Denying it would be fruitless and accepting it would be handing over power to Cain. So, Beau said nothing. 

The young just getting older

We are sunlight

We can sparkle and shine

And our dreams are what we're made of… He just watched you. 

He dragged his eyes up your form and saw you looking straight at him. 

Just hold on You can make it happen for you Reach for the stars and you will fly You're hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven Hungry for heaven But you need a little hell, oh, hungry…

And, just for a moment, Beau felt like you were doing this all for him. This entire show was for him. That little dress and the way you inched it up your thighs as you moved was for him. The burgundy-tinged smile was just for him. The way your half-lidded gaze never strayed far from him in the crowd was for him. And maybe it was. Maybe it was all for him because as soon as the song ended and you helped your giggling friends off the bar—taking extra care to help the bride down as she poked at the tip of your nose—you turned to him. While your friends were swarmed by other patrons of the bar who had appreciated the show, you only looked at him. And then you were moving, pushing your way through the accumulated crowd and toward him. You licked your lips just before you slowed to a stop in front of him and Beau tracked the movement with his heart hammering in his throat. “Did you enjoy the show?” And what was he supposed to say to that? He had the wherewithal to notice Cain had retreated to a darkened corner with another drink and a different woman, his attention completely diverted. Beau paused for a moment before nodding. What good would lying do now? Something had shifted, irreparably changed. For better or worse. 

He could smell your perfume again as you moved closer, closer, closer. God, you were beautiful. And a voice that sounded almost like himself was screaming at the back of his mind that this was wrong, this was against all sorts of Naval regulations, that this would only end poorly- But it quieted as soon as your fingers pressed against his chest. He could feel each of your breaths against his mouth. He could smell your floral perfume with each of his own inhales and wanted to bury his nose in it. In you. But what Beau happily noticed was the lack of alcohol that hit his nose. You were sober. 

He knew adrenaline could make people do things that were out of character. Plenty of pilots, himself included, had landed their jet and jumped out, heart hammering and nerves buzzing. Maybe it was that for you, high off the little performance. Confident enough to approach your direct superior in a crowd. You sought him out. There was a silent conversation between you; were you going to do this? Could either of you stop? And Beau surged forward with his inevitable answer, closing the gap.

You tasted like heaven. Sticky sweet with a bite of something else and your hand gently curled over his chest as you sighed against his mouth. Your fingers inched up to press at the side of his neck as he licked between your lips. 

Every sigh, every little noise, every brush of your mouth against his had his heart racing. This was what he needed, what every part of him had wanted since you had first spent the night at his side, helping him do monotonous paperwork. Just you, in his arms, and your taste on his tongue. 

He didn’t even recall pulling you toward the small hallway that led to the bathrooms but he felt your smile against his mouth when he backed you against the wall. Your next breath puffed against his wet lips and your eyes still sparkled in the hallway’s shitty light. “We might have fifteen minutes before someone comes looking.” “I can do a lot in fifteen minutes.” 

The bathroom door creaked when he pulled you through it and the lock gave an answering click when he engaged it. You were soft everywhere and Beau groaned against your mouth as his hands skirted up your thighs, dragging the minuscule skirt of your dress with it. And you were sweet everywhere, too, as he tugged the tiny scrap of lace between your thighs to the side and drank you down. Your hands curled into his hair as he pulled one of your legs up and over his shoulder. He kept you upright as each flick of his tongue had you shaking and whimpering and filling his mouth. 

He could do this forever, even if his knees ached and his trousers were unbearably tight. 

Just as you shook in his grip and he felt you sliding down his chin, there was a sharp knock at the door. 

“We’re leaving! I’m giving you exactly thirty seconds to meet us outside.” 

Beau recognized the maid of honor’s voice on the other side. It was quickly followed by a chorus of giggles. But he hardly heard any of it as you sighed and curled your hands beneath Beau’s chin and pulled him up with a gentle tug. You kissed him, undoubtedly tasting yourself on his tongue, as your thumb swept gentle circles against his cheek. 

Your eyes were hazy and half-lidded again and you stole another kiss against his mouth when he pulled your dress back down. 

“You can definitely do a lot in fifteen minutes, Admiral.” Your finger swept beneath his lip, gathering the evidence of your secret and you licked it away. “I’ll return the favor. I promise.” 

Before you slipped away from him again, Beau kissed you again. He couldn’t get enough of it, of you. Nor the soft laugh you let out as you whispered you’d see him on Monday. 

Monday was going to be interesting. He didn’t know what it would bring, how any of this would turn out, but he had hope. And he liked to think you did, too. 

Beau couldn’t wait. 

A/N: please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#top gun rocktober #Beau Simpson x reader #beau cyclone Simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #tgm fic #tgm #female reader

[zipperzoo]

FIGHT TO MAKE IT UP

The Batman (2022) bruce wayne x f!reader

Word count: - 4.3k

Masterlist / AO3 / Playlist

Themes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Crime Family, Thriller, Nior, Heist, Action, Comedy, Crime.

Warning: Description of illegal substances.

Chapter four:

I dance around in my fancy suit, although I am flightless I am rather cute. What am I?

Rivers sat in the security room of Wayne Tower. Munching on some cashews- from a vending machine by the front desk. They were swirling on their chair, going over the footage of the night. Nothing out of the ordinary for the first two hours from what the footage showed and from the reports it seemed to match up.

The room was obviously dark, full of boxes and a wall full of tapes from 1998 to today. The eight screens are all retro, box tv’s with built in VHS tape players took up an entire wall. Next to the main monitor was a small radio blaring music, they bopped their head to the beat as they continued to throw the cashews into their mouth.

On the screens people zoomed in and out of the building but something caught Rivers' eyes. Pausing the fast forward button they leaned in close to the fourth screen that was the CCTV of the reception. There they saw someone rather eye-catching at the front desk. Leaning in closer and squinting to get a better look- there they saw a roughly yellow thing in his hands. A walkie talkie? Rivers recalled a batman themed walkie talkie stashed in a storage cupboard near the elevator to the top of Wayne tower that was now part of evidence.

Jotting down the tape, the time and person of interest rough description, they also sent the screenshot of the footage to print. 

While that was printing, the rough scratching noise of the machine pumping out ink onto the paper disturbed the music playing. Rivers paid no mind as they continued to monitor the screens.

On screen two they noticed a bright red car, one reported on the officers who were on the chase with. It matched the description. They took note of how long it remained outside the building. 

They paused the video. They saw the man earlier who was at the reception holding an unconscious Bruce Wayne over his shoulder. Looking in the driver's seat, noticing it was empty, he then threw Bruce into the trunk. He looked panicked with his rapid movements and frantic head turns, taking in his surroundings.

Bruce was abducted. They already knew that from the call from security. They received two calls, one from security and one from Alfred. Both were rather odd from what Rivers remembered in the operators' reports but seeing how Bruce Wayne was kidnapped, felt a little unnerving. In the dusk light for everyone to see. 

Rivers' recalled seeing a CCTV of an actual abduction in the training videos back at the academy. Some guy put a tea cosy over his victim's head. They laughed aloud at it and that didn't impress the teacher. Who puts a tea cosy over someone's head?

A knock on the door, Rivers spun around to see Gordon at the door. “Hey kid. Found anything?” He just poked his head through a very small gap he made. Rivers’ didn't even notice the sound of the door open or hear the printer finish its job. 

“Actually- Quite a lot!” They beamed. “Got a good description on the guy who took Bruce Wayne and then got time matches from the call’s and the visuals of the car.” They pushed their chair across to the printer, grabbing the finished printed screenshot of Sausages talking into the Batman Walkie talkie. Flaunting it in the air to show Gordon.

“That's brilliant.” He clasped his hands together.

Placing the picture onto the desk, Rivers quickly took a look at the screens before returning their attention to Gordon. “How did the talk go with the witness?”

Shifting his weight, Inspecting the dust on the sleeve of his jacket. “He seems fine but what struck me was that he wasn't aware of Bruce Wayne’s disappearance despite reporting to come up to see if he was there. I want you to keep an eye on him while I go visit a friend.”

“What do I do with this info? Send it back to the station?”

“No actually… Give them to me. Stay here and see if you can find anything else you might have missed.”

They paused before responding. “How am I going to stay here and keep an eye on the Butler?” Raising a brow at Gordon.

“You’ll learn to do many things at once at this kind of job, kid.” Flashing a warm smile.

They grumbled in response to Gordon. “Hey what was that evidence found in that storage cupboard again?”

“You mean the walkie talkie?” “Psh- Batman walkie talkie.” They chuckled to themselves. “I caught the suspect on camera eight with it, time was uh-” they turned to look at the screen then spun back around to Gordon. “19:06 to19:11”

Gordon shook his head and let out a breathy laugh. “God dayum batman walkie talkies. We’re hoping forensics would get some prints off it, but matching the database stuff takes some time. Sometimes I think the GCPD’s lack of funding has us stuck in the stone age.”

“It's not all doom or gloom!” They said patting one of the big box tv’s. Causing it to have static run up the screen from the disturbance.

Gordon remained silent, looking at the screen that was the only source of light in the room- then to Rivers whose face remained dark when the light behind them haloed their silhouette. “I’ll get going, kid.” Gordon knocked once onto the door before raising his hand in the air as a gesture of goodbye. Rivers gave a small smile waving in return. Once Gordon left they let out a breath they weren't even aware they were holding in. 

Gordon was like a nice and cool dad that hung around but didn't know how to properly talk to their child so he just stood around awkwardly. That or he didn't really know how to handle small talk.

Putting all their attention back on the screens, continuing to eat the cashews from earlier. Flicking through the screens. The tape from screen 5 was finished, as the tape was injected and the screen was static. With a sigh they stood up and swapped the tapes over. 

The moment the screen lit up smack bang in the middle was a woman’s face. It scared the shit out of Rivers’, causing them to yelp and crash back in their chair. Struggling to get up, peering over the desk as they sat on the floor watching the footage unfold.

It was Y/N. She was in the process of disconnecting the camera with her face deadener of the screen, distorting her appearance with the fish lens of the camera. After sticking her tongue out with concentration- the screen suddenly went static then black.

Time was 19:34, location was the elevator to the top of Wayne Tower and right next to the storage cupboard where the walkie talkie was found. How did security miss this? This would explain why there was no footage of the trespassers leaving the Wayne residence with the suitcase and the dead body apart from the main entrance footage.

Rivers set to rewind the footage and took a screenshot of Y/N’s face and printed it out. Writing in big bold letters at the bottom of the paper: Second suspect.

^v^

Walking into the tent, Sausages threw his arms up into the air, full of excitement and full of glee. His face held stains of his blood from his attempts to clean it up after the situation from earlier. “Oz!”

“Sit down you big bald fuck.” Penguin snapped back, rubbing around his mouth from his comfy little spot in his luxurious camp set up. brightened by vintage lamps and lanterns. Despite the plan to meet at the circus being rather last minute, he set up pretty well. Made himself at home.

Sausages really did luck out with Cobblepot being at the circus. The phone call was endless yelling for extra time in hopes to crack open the suitcase but maybe showcasing Bruce Wayne in person would actually buy time.

“Okay… I’m not bald…That shit faced kid just ripped a few strands out.” Sausages stepped further in and took a seat opposite Cobblepot. Oz let out a big stomach laugh, finding amusement in Sausages’ complete change in attitude. He walked in with so much enthusiasm and now he was sinking into the cheap chair.

The twins strutted in just after Sausages. Shoving Bruce into the tent as they dragged muddy footprints in. Y/N slowly and cautiously followed behind, The room felt thick, the humidity of the tension that radiated off Oz- it was nauseating. Y/N breathed it in, making it sit in her stomach and churn with anxiety. 

“Well would you look at that! Children are good for something.” The Penguin joked, cracking a cheeky smile, showing off his crooked teeth and single golden tooth. Turning to a man, who hid in the far corner curled up into himself. Hiding in the shadow. Penguin saw he wasn't getting any sort of response from him and turned back.

To feel grounded from the dread of what might take place, with the man who held hers and Sausages life in his hands before them. Y/N placed her shaky hands onto Bruce’s shoulder in hope to disguise it as a way to steady him.

Bruce felt her tremble and instantly knew the weight of the situation. Especially from her confession in their little fight.

“We found them rolling around in the mud.” One of the twins laughed, putting the young Grayson down onto the floor. “And this one- was wondering out of his tent and was also rolling around with them,”

“Actually- I only went to get a candy apple, I just came across them on my way back and wanted to help-”

“Have you heard the phrase to be seen and not heard?” snapped Oz scratched his scalp. “I thought I made it clear to your parents that you all stay in the main tent.”

The child tensed, squaring his shoulders. Averting his eyeline away from Cobblepot he noticed a bunch of strange bottles on the table in front of him. Bruce also noticed this. There were a large amount of glasses, some different shapes and sizes. Inside the bottles was a strange gas that had a subtle green-y yellow tint to it. Not too distinct but alarmingly noticeable. Only a cork was keeping the mysterious gas at bay. 

Dick didn't really want to fuck around and find out what that was. On the other hand Bruce was actually willing to snatch one up. 

Y/N was too busy glaring lasers from her eyes into Cobblepot’s head to notice the bottles or Bruce edge a little closer to the centre of the tent- towards the table.

Shifting and scooting in place, Sausages was quite fidgety from nerves. The plan already went tits up with the guard who was carrying the suitcase being shot, and the suitcase being locked. It was already hard to negotiate more time to figure out a way out of this but now he was face to face with his judge. His grim reaper, the man who held his life in his hands. The man who had loaned him and Y/N money to just survive within Gotham's grasp. 

Looking at the guests in his tent, Oz scanned Sausages, taking delight in his shrunken state, looking over at Y/N and her stance- she leered at him. The person next to her caught his attention the most.

“Well would you look at that, you have Bruce Wayne in your posse. How fancy” Dripping in sarcasm. “Y/N, nice to see you again, lovely.” He paused. “What's it that pack of meat calls you again- Princess?” He chuckled, face sucked into his head as he snickered. “Nice to see you again princess.”

“Pleasure.” She spat out, tightening her grip on Bruce’s shoulder, digging her nails into his dirt stained coat.

“Hey Bruce, Been a while since I last saw you- wasn't it at the funeral. The rumour is true then, that crazed idiot on the tv didn't burn you to a crisp.” One of the twins coughed a snicker while everyone remained serious, soaking in the silence. “What do I owe the pleasure of Mr Wayne?”

“We-” grabbing Oz’s attention, Sausages attempted to divert the topic. “I… I thought it was a good idea to grab Bruce Wayne and have him as ransom. You know extra money along with the ahem… The original deal?”

Snapping his line of sight from Bruce to Sausages, Oz pulled a face. “Who are you gonna ransom the boy to? Mummy and daddy?”

Sausages with a glimmer in his eyes puffed up his chest. “Yeah!! Yeah!” Bruce besides Y/N, cringed staring at the floor. Embarrassed for the man. “They’ll be sure to pay a fortune!”

“You fucking idiot. Do you live under a rock?” Penguin laughed, turning around to look at the twins then the man curled up behind him. Mocking Sausages as he guffawed and howled in the tent. Bruce Looked up at Y/N, she looked pained and sad- hurt for Sausages. He- Sausages had tried so hard to get her out of Gotham even taking any job that would pay Oz’s greed. Even if it resulted in humiliating himself.

Bruce took note of that expression that was supposed to be private to her. 

Sausages’ face fell as realization hit him like a truck. Full fucking speed. Y/N had said earlier that night “He has no family.” Now it felt like a really stupid idea to have held Bruce at gun point at the auction and then knock him out by accident. It was all fucking useless and a waste of time.

“They died twenty years ago! You know, you're one lousy James Bond.” The penguin’s chest hurt from laughing, slapping it and then wiping a tear. “No wonder little Miss Princess keeps you around. You truly are a source of entertainment.” His eyes darted to her. That fucking pet-name. 

“You're going to kick the hornet's nest with Bruce Wayne here.” spoke up a voice that sat out of the light. It even caught Bruce’s attention. Only the outside of what looks like glasses could be spotted from within the void of his silhouette.

“Doctor, I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Oz waved his arm up, to silence his guest. Dick stood up on his tiptoes to peer over to look at the man at the far back of the tent. 

“Whatever is going on here, I don't want Mr Wayne involved in my research or our arrangement.” he stood up, allowing the light of the lamps to bathe his figure. He was a lean man, rather scrawny but well put together. Smart and sophisticated. 

“Listen, doctor, if you're getting bored and lonely, the twins here can keep you company. They really are great company, aren't you boys?” The twins remained silent just staring down at the man who hid in the far corner of the tent. Bruce squinted to try and get a better look at the doctor. He doesn't recognize a single thing about this ‘doctor’. Who is this man?

Oz had filled in the void- the gaping hole that was left after Falcone's murder and the Riddler's madness in Gotham. A month was just enough time to have something brew behind the iron curtains. At first Bruce thought it was something to do with him and his family which would explain the entire incident at Wayne Tower and the auction but some things just aren't adding up.

Y/N leaned closer to Bruce and whispered into his ear. “Don't Draw attention to yourself.” She paused, nodded slightly towards Penguin. “He is a lot smarter than he looks.” Her breath tickled his ear, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up, goosebumps brushed up his arms. He wasn't expecting that but Bruce did know that Penguin was a lot smarter than he looks. The man was cocky and great at Spanish.

The doctor took a step further into the centre of the tent, brushing past the twins knowing they were his guards for the present time, his guard dogs. Running his long slender fingers through his hair. He revealed a clever smile as words crept out “The whole GCPD will rain down on this whole little operation. I personally don’t want my work to be affected.” He waved his finger towards the bottles on the table lazily.

“Christ the GCPD?” Penguin tipped his head back, slapping his hands on his knees and let out a pained groan. “What a fucking mess you two bring to my door step.” obviously aimed at Sausages and Y/N. “Aight- Do you have the pearls?” He asked, fixing his posture, ready to send the two away. The word captured Bruce’s and Y/N’s attention. “Pearls?” Y/N uttered. Sausages gulped.

Oz’s eyes bounced around Sausages, Y/N and Bruce. “You know, The pearls? The infamous Martha Wayne’s pearls? A pearl necklace? The pearl necklace?” He turned to the twins. “Am I speaking English?” Turning back to his audience. “Español? Perlas?”

Pearls. The word rang through her head. Pearls? What pearls? 

The look of confusion on Y/N’s face and the twins made Cobblepot impatient. “The pearls that were supposed to be at a pretty boy's little charity event?” The penguin was getting easily irritated.

Face painted with confusion still, Y/N looked over Bruce, catching Bruce’s expression. Horror. Dick’s rapid head movements to try and catch what was happening- obviously looking discombobulated. He was itching to comment something but the fear of Penguin snapping at him still lingered.

His mother’s pearls. Bruce’s feelings began to snowball; Panic, anxiety, fear and dread all built up in him. Like a bottle overflowing with lava- burning and cracking the bottle, slowly destroying the physical barrier. Bruce was about to erupt- he was going to lose his cool. What was worse? Built up sadness that was engulfing or the rage and hurt that was choking him. Reliving his grief standing there as Oz was waving his hand around waiting for anyone to respond. The doctor watched, enthralled by the shock Bruce was cycling through. 

Why was Alfred giving the pearls to the auction? Bruce’s brain was racing. The singular word Pearls triggered him. His heart rate rose as beads of sweat were threatening to run down his perfect face.

The doctor was amused by Bruce’s break of character. Pushing his glasses up his nose to better inspect the subtle betrayal of emotions leak from Bruce’s walls.

“You're telling me, You’ve got me the prince of the city which is impressive but you didn't get exactly what the job entailed. The god dayum pearls in the god dayum suitca-”

“We have the pearls!” Spoke up Y/N. Bruce’s mind ran quiet as she took her hand away, leaving where she held her hand on him to grow violently cold. Her voice ran a shiver up his spine, she suddenly grew confident and took charge as Sausages shrunk further into his stool. 

Bruce was yanked out of his panic as his eyes glued onto her. 

Now knowing what exactly was in the suitcase this entire time and what she and Sausages was after put a fire under her ass. It was just some lousy Pearls.

“You're bluffing.” Spoke up to the doctor. “Otherwise you’d have them here.”

Sausages shot up from his seat and pointed sharply towards the doctor. Sending the chair to fall backwards behind him crashing into the ground. “Who the fuck is this pleb?” He was growing sick and tired of this weirdo just talking and trying to take charge. This was supposed to be between Cobblepot, Sausages and Y/N. No one else.

With all bark and no bite, the doctor backed up, sinking into the protection of the twins like a snobby spoilt child who finally was facing the consequences of his greed.

Sausages cracked a goofy snicker, turning towards Bruce and Y/N. “This mother fucker is one giant coward look at him!” Facing him again to then have a lamp thrown into his face, toppling him over in a brilliant back flip. Penguin had lobbed it at him. Quieting him and putting him in his place. Which was the floor.

Y/N face palmed as she broke her silence. “Was that necessary?” 

Sausages laid there on the floor, curling up into himself as Grayson shuffled by him, kicking him gently in the shoulder. “Hey- you okay?” whispered Dick. Sausages let out a soft whimper as a response while rolling over onto his back. He’ll be fine.

“Sweet heart, want one thrown at you too?” The penguin motioned his hand showing off his wide range of lamps to throw at her. She raised one hand up, signalling that she will be compliant. “So, where's the pearls? Unless they are shoved up Mr Wayne's tight ass- I don’t see it anywhere.” 

She cringed, Penguin talking about Bruce Wayne’s backside wasn’t something she had on her bingo list- to be fair a lot of things that happened in the past few hours wasn't on her bingo list. “In my car which is parked on the outskirts of the circus but-”

“Okay princess-”

“Don’t call me that.” She called out with a poisonous after taste in her tone, causing a sharp silence to invade the tent.

Bruce caught her face serious, focused and her stern stare directed at Penguin. Her body language is what stood out to Bruce. Her fists balled up as her shoulders tensed up. From his line of sight he caught Sausage’s mouth open agape while the mysterious doctor hid behind the twins. Cobblepot on the other hand, had his eyes pop out of his head. He quickly laughed it off, treating her reaction as a joke.

“Wow-wow sweetheart, calm down. How about this? You and the twins go get the pearls and bring them back here. Nice and easy.” Penguin knew when to stop poking the tiger that was backed up into the corner of a cage. He even thought his offer was him being generous. 

Sausages didn't like the sound of that. He sat up to interrupt to then have the wind be vacuumed out of him. Falling back to the floor in slow motion, everything around him suddenly felt chunky. Suddenly the lights in the tent were just a little bit more vibrant, and colours were pulsing.

He swallowed. The mushrooms had just kicked in.

Completely oblivious to Sausages, Y/N took a minute to organize her thoughts. She can't leave Sausages alone with Cobblepot and she would rather have her nails ripped off her fingers than be alone with the twins. Shifting her position to take a quick look at Bruce. He stood there watching Sausages, who was staring rather intensely at the table in front of him.

All Bruce did was stare, look- stare and watch. It was beginning to creep her out. If he wasn't attractive he would surely be a fucking creep. The halo effect was in full function but she wasn't going to let that win. She fleetingly considered throwing Bruce under the bus to grab Sausages and run.

Following Bruce’s line of sight- turned back and watched Sausages who was watching the bottles on the table in awe. He sat there, like a child watching television- eyes goggled and glassy as his mouth opened slightly. In a trance. Cobblepot wasn't really paying any mind. Assumed this was Sausages’ normal self.

“How does that sound sweetheart?”

Without looking away from Sausages she replies. “Yeah yeah sure- hey Sausages. You okay?”

The gas-like substance in the bottles' movement had captivated him. The way it moved and weaved in the enclosed space. It looked alive- convincing himself that it would taste like lime, tangy lime.

Inching closer towards the glass bottles. There were several- possibly more than twenty all lined up close to one another. “Hey uh- what's in these bottles.”

“None of your business.” The doctor pushed the twins apart, letting him back through. Full alert and protective mode. Bruce picked up on how tense the doctor was acting and geared ready just in case.

“It looks weird, kind of like bottled farts.” Sausages sounded like a child- even looked like a child sitting there. “But maybe like- it could taste like lime fanta?”

The whole room watched Sausages, only one trying to with strain a laugh was the child who was standing by him. Finding it all very amusing of course. This was probably the kids first experience with someone on drugs.

“Is he having a laugh?” commented Cobblepot.

“I think the drugs he took are starting to take effect…” Bruce said. 

Sausages reached out to touch one of the bottles, it itched its brain to wonder what it felt like to touch the clouded substances or to taste it, smell it and inhale it.

The doctor vastly caught wind of what was about to happen, horror and dismay took control as he pushed past the twins, leaping forward to stop Sausages to instead land beside the table pushing Sausages back only slightly. Landing beside the table his elbow knocked the table leg, causing the entire table to wobble.

Cobblepot reached his arms out with panic plastered across his ugly face. Springing up onto his feet with alert eyes.

Bruce dragged long steps towards the scene to then be jolted back by Y/N. She pranced towards Sausages, tugging him back with her arms wrapped around his chest. The weight of Sausages caused her to struggle and stumble back. 

Despite everything, all of the bottles on the table were knocked over, scattering the floor with glass shards. The mysterious gas was free and was vastly filling up the space. It all happened in slow motion- the tense panic and build up and the release. Everyone in the tent was murmurous as the inaudible uneasiness grew heavy.

They’ll soon learn why the gas was enclosed in those bottles and why it should have stayed that way.

#The Batman #Robert Pattinson #Battinson #batman x reader #Battinson x reader #fanfiction #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #DC #The Batman 2022 fanfiction

[ecurai]

Counterpart

Rihannsu starships ran colder than their Klingon or Federation counterparts.

Starfleet vessels aimed, in all things, for a kind of pleasant neutrality. Their climate controls were mild; not too cool for their short sleeves and light fabric, not too warm for long pants and multi-layered uniforms. Klingon ships, which historically placed far more engineering emphasis on weapons systems than anything else, had environmental systems perpetually fighting an honorable but doomed battle against tight quarters, naturally high Klingon body temperatures, and thick leather armor.

No such issue on the Ecurai. The warbirds of the Republic were kept cool—not cold, but not quite warm. You wouldn’t get a chill in shirtsleeves; but you’d certainly be more comfortable if you put on a light coat.

Which meant that Satra Valel registered the absence of a warm body in her bunk almost before she was fully awake.

That was, in and of itself, not unusual. They both had demanding jobs—Satra herself had vanished in the middle of the night plenty of times, in response to an urgent call from Sickbay.

But here, tonight? Having seen the things they had? 0400 hours, in geosynchronous orbit over Earth for the first time since the Undine… 

She counted backward from one hundred and twenty. The cold sheets said that this was more than just a late-night trip to the restroom, but there was nothing to be gained by acting like a fussy mother hlai.

“Computer.” She pushed herself up on one elbow, reaching out to activate her PADD. “Locate Commander t’Dosai.”

There was no mild computerized voice to respond to the request; a wryly self-aware Rihannsu tendency toward subtlety and the ability to keep secrets had melded well with the coarse Iuruth sensibilities of the ship’s commander. Wasting air, Ael called it—taking the time and energy to make someone sit through hearing you out when you could have simply said what needed saying and let them move on with their lives. The ship’s computer sent a politely silent ping to Satra’s PADD, and left her in peace.

Starboard observation deck. It could be worse.

Deactivating the PADD, Satra sat up properly and pressed the heels of her palms firmly against her eyes. Finally, shaking herself, she picked up a second unit. The subspace comm line she was looking for was already near the top; there was a pause of less than two minutes before it was answered.

“Doctor Valel! It’s been far too long, my friend! Business or pleasure?” 

Despite her concern, Satra smiled. “It’s good to see you, Kuumaarke. Do you happen to have my wife on the other line?”

Kuumaarke blinked mildly. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Is she having difficulty connecting? I haven’t heard anything about communications issues in the Sol system…” A soft gasp. “But then, I wouldn’t have, would I! If the Ecurai isn’t able to broadcast—”

Sensing a solid five and a half minutes of concerned technobabble and possibly an Alliance-wide red alert in the making, Satra held up a hand to forestall any panic. “Kiuu mnekha. There’s nothing wrong, liorae’lagga. I just didn’t want to interrupt a private conversation.”

With a bright, warm laugh—the unforced sincerity that had led them to call her lightflower—Kuumaarke settled back in her chair. “Well, you may now feel free to interrupt away!” She grinned over a cup of what looked like some kind of tea. “And in future I do hope you feel free to insert yourself into any private conversation you wish, Doctor. I’m never too busy for such dear friends—though I might insist you let me finish my breakfast next time.”

After a moment, however, the humor dancing in Kuumaarke’s eyes faded. She glanced over her shoulder, then tapped something outside of camera range. When she leaned in again, lowering her voice, she had obviously changed the call audio to a private earpiece.

“Doctor,” she said. “How is the commander? Truly. I don’t wish to cross a boundary—I’ve seen some reports, I know some little of what she…what you all saw. But I haven’t…well, I suppose I felt I might not be the appropriate person to reach out to her. Given…”

Given how recently we were all fighting for our lives to get in a killing blow against a woman who looked exactly like you, Satra agreed silently.

Or, perhaps more pointedly: Given how openly your evil doppelganger was fantasizing about the sexual tortures she could dream up for us. Given how openly she warmed the bed of a woman who is terrifyingly, heartbreakingly identical to my wife. 

Given how openly you’re half in love with the real one.

Something of that last thought must have shown on her face. Kuumarke didn’t quite flinch; but she shrank back into herself.

“Doctor,” she said, too quickly. Then, taking a sharp breath: “I hope—I realize, of course, that this goes without saying. You hardly need reassurance from me that—but, given the circumstances, I only—I hope you know that—I have nothing but respect and deep affection for both of you. All of you! Satra, I assure you, I would never—”

“Kuumaarke,” Satra said quietly. “I trust my wife.”

Kuumaarke colored faintly at the censure; Satra acknowledged it with a mildly raised eyebrow, then had the good manners to move on.

“I trust you as well,” she said. “And not just because if I mistrusted you it would mean I mistrusted Ael; and if I mistrusted Ael, I am a citizen of the Klingon Empire. I would have done something about it by now.” That at least got a small, embarrassed laugh. With Kuumaarke finally willing to make eye contact again, Satra said softly, “None of our human allies are responsible for the actions of the Terran Empire. You have done nothing wrong. Neither has she. I wish she would call you at four in the morning. It might help her realize that.”

Kuumaarke looked up with a painfully earnest expression “Thank you. Well. Jolan tru, Doctor. Best wishes go with you.”

Satra inclined her head, smiled, and cut the subspace link. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stood.

Starboard observation deck.

===

“Come to bed.”

Ael didn’t jump; Satra wasn’t surprised; it took effort to sneak up on Ael t’Dosai. But she didn’t respond, either. Not beyond the faintest twitch in Satra’s direction, just enough to show that she wasn’t being ignored.

She was, otherwise, ignored.

Satra Valel had enough pride that she had once called her rescue by the fledgling Rebellion a conscription under duress for the sole reason that it had inconvenienced her—and enough spite that she had dropped the House prefix from the ancient family name t’Valel for the sole reason that the shattered remnants of noble Houses had formed the backbone of Sela’s Empire, and she had wanted nothing to do with it. 

She did not generally respond well to being ignored.

She sighed. There was no heat in her voice when she spoke again.

“Come to bed, e’lev. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

That, finally, got the ghost of a smile.

“This isn’t Starfleet,” she said, voice rough from lack of use.

“I never said I’d be speaking as your chief medical officer,” retorted Satra. 

Another long, slow pause. Another faint twitch, another half-ghost of a smile.

“You win,” said Ael softly. She didn’t move to stand.

Satra, who had only very rarely seen her this bad, moved to sit by her instead.

The observation area was actually a small, out-of-the way room near the belly of the Ecurai. It had the novelty of a partially-clearsteel floor, and a gorgeous view of the contrails thrown by the starboard nacelle in a nebula,  but was otherwise an unimpressive room—the real observation deck was the mess hall. 

But what this unpopular retreat offered instead was privacy. Intended mostly to provide the lower-decks crew with a quiet place to read or finish their reports that was more comfortable than their barracks, it was rarely host to more than one or two people at a time. In the middle of delta shift, it was rarely host to anyone at all. And no one on this ship would intrude on their commander.

Well. Almost no one.

Warbirds were kept dim as they were kept cool; neither Starfleet neutral-white, nor the minimal nightvision guide strips of a Klingon battleship. Warm, gold-and-emerald recessed lighting provided just enough light to be comfortable—just enough light that the shadows cast across Ael’s scarred, exhausted face would never be quite deep enough to hide in.

Satra settled onto the padded bench across from her wife, and waited.

Three full minutes later, Ael said, “I’m glad she has a voicebox.” Another long minute later, she swallowed heavily. “She can never…pretend.”

She tried and failed to keep her heart from cracking in her chest. “Is that what you’ve been dreaming? Ael—” Then, “Look at me.”

Olive-green eyes flickered, flinched, and failed to hold her gaze. As gently as she could manage Satra reached out, placed the tips of two fingers under her wife’s chin, and turned her gaze back.

When Satra had first laid eyes on the woman, Ael had been a ragged, underfed scrap of a thing; some feral twenty-something in way over her head, dressed in the torn and smoke-stained rags of what had once been a cheap facsimile of a security uniform, with a shitty plasma pistol at her hip, an ashen face, and a knife’s-edge, fight-or-flight expression.

She’d steadied, over time. With Klingon and Starfleet support, that quivering desperation had faded. With enough food, more sleep, a change of clothes, she started to look less like a half-drowned kitten. And the moment she was offered command of a warbird and made a choice—a real choice, one she could have walked away from alive—was the moment Satra had seen the starfire in her veins for the first time. 

“Ael ir’Iuruth t’Dosai,” she said softly. “Look at me. Look at me, dhael’stelam. What do you see?”

She’d steadied over time. But the hunted look in those beautiful green eyes had never left her. It never would entirely. 

It was a privilege like none in the galaxy, to watch Ael slowly fold that fear away. The tension lines around her eyes softened, and life gradually began to return to her face as she smiled. A true smile, this time. Her eyes searched Satra’s.

“...Fire on the sea,” she murmured. 

“Your wife,” Satra told her. “I hope.”

An old conversation. Fire and Water, she’d said, fingers tracing lightly over the back of Satra’s hand. Brushing calloused fingertips against her skin, raising pleasant goosebumps on the back of her neck. A creature of contradictions. A warrior and a healer, life and destruction, the most compassionate woman I’ve ever met who threw a rock at my head because I got myself hurt in the field, which is a contradiction if I’ve ever heard one—

Stop wasting air, Satra had retorted, and Ael had mimed a shot to the heart. And don’t speak poetry if you’re not going to bed me, Commander. It’s bad manners.

“Ael.” She let some steel—only a very little, but enough—into her voice. “My love. Do you think so little of me?”

Ael, gentle but firm, pulled her hand away. “She has the scar. She could have had my voice. She’s an assassin, i’Vorta. She wouldn’t have to fool anyone for long.”

“You’ve never seen your own face.” Satra released her wife’s chin without protest. “Of course you haven’t. You couldn’t know the difference. E’lev, you couldn’t mimic her if you tried. Your facial expressions are an active threat to Alliance operational security. To this day I have no idea how you managed to survive the Tal Shiar. There’s no need for Vulcan mind techniques with you in a room, you could have filibustered the Tricameron without saying a word.”

“Satra—”

“Ael. I know your name as well.”

A very, very weak smile. Finally, Ael rasped, “I’m just…glad she can’t use my voice.”

It was a solid, reliable distinction. A comfort, with the Inquisitor still at large in the Mirror Universe. Something to cling to. Except that their world had better reconstructive medicine than the Terrans' shattered universe. Except, of course, that Ael could easily receive the same injury as her counterpart. Be fitted with the same voicebox, and lose that easy identifier. Except that it would make no difference.

With deliberate care, Satra took her wife’s face between her hands.

“Do you think for a moment,” she whispered, “that I wouldn’t know you blindfolded?”

Whatever Ael saw in her face, the next argument died before she could voice it.

Satra pressed on. “It does not matter if she has your voice or you have hers. She has your face already and looks nothing like you, Ael. Don’t speak. You cannot order me to lie to you. You have never once looked yourself in the eye. I have watched your face for ten years, my starbird. I have fallen asleep to your voice for a decade. I know how you speak to me. I would hear your voice as clearly through a Terran voicebox as I hear it now.”

“Satra…”

“Don’t speak.” It came out like a prayer. “I know what a thousand forms of love look like in your eyes. I know how love sounds on your tongue whatever tech you might use to speak. And the moment any Terran inquisitor tried to use the name of my wife to hurt the people she loves, and thought a convenient scar or intact vocal cords would be enough to make me let her, I would gut her alive and send her screaming to the blackest fires of Gre’thor.”

For a long time they sat that way, foreheads pressed together, uneven breathing too loud in the empty room.

“You spend too much time around injured Klingons,” murmured Ael without opening her eyes.

"taHqeq,” Satra whispered. She brought their lips together. “Don’t speak.”

#ficlet #THIS ONE GOT EVEN LONGER #oh no #as usual protip: click through to the blog itself #for translations for the untranslated romulan

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Taeyang

Thursday

Intro Week Start Seungri Week Start Daesung Week Start Previous Next

-----

My phone was ringing. I batted about with my hand until I felt the smooth rectangle.

"Dancing, I know, give me a minute."

The laugh in my ear was not Taeyang.

"I'm making breakfast, come eat."

The disconnect tone droned in my ear. I stared at the screen.

Seunghyun 00:18 Call ended

-----

"Do you want to tell me why we're having breakfast at," I squinted at the clock on the stove, "5:30am?"

"5:45am. Youngbae is going to get up, hmm," Seunghyun paused, carefully turning the eggs in the pan in front of him, "probably around 7:30 or 8am."

"Then I'm going back to bed until then."

I hopped out of my seat and started shuffling towards my room.

"Stop stop stop," Seunghyun quickly skirted around the breakfast bar to stop me.

"Jiyong," he grabbed my elbow and turned me to face him, "is going to be up around 6:30am."

"And?"

"And," he deftly circled around me so he could push me back into the kitchen, "you're going to be up."

He turned me around by my shoulders.

"Having breakfast."

He squatted for a moment, wrapping one arm around my thighs. The position pressed his cheek against the largest of my scars. He lifted me to sit on the counter once more.

"With me."

He quickly shed his sweatshirt, turning it right side out before pulling it over my shoulders.

As he rolled the sleeves up on the oversized fleece thing, I thought back to the time he had bullied me into letting him do my makeup. Same as then, he was standing between my legs, obviously plotting something. He leaned in a little closer.

"Seung…"

"What was that tea that you like?" Seunghyun opened the cupboard next to my head, leaning across me to look at the drink selection there.

"The, uh," I looked down and away, fiddling with the edge of my shorts, trying to hide the blush I felt threatening to creep across my face, "the one with the orange."

"That's right. Here it is…" he trailed the end of his sentence.

"Yah," he used the box of tea to tilt my head up slightly, "Are you blushing?"

"No!" I protested immediately.

"You are! Why?" A single eyebrow popped upwards on his face, "what were you thinking?"

"Nothing," I pushed against his chest, "why are you in my personal space like this?"

He laughed, but relented his teasing. Slightly.

"I don't know what you were thinking, but you better cut it out."

I rolled my eyes.

"This is a serious mission," he continued, now turning to fill the kettle with water "so you better not fall in love with me."

"Love?" I covered my mouth, feigning being sick, "You're kidding me, right? If I weren't in the show I'd never even talk to someone like you."

-----

I was leaning over a plate of eggs on toast when Jiyong appeared.

He walked in stretching, but came to an almost comical pause when his eyes found us.

Seunghyun glanced up from his phone that we had both been watching the daily weather report on.

"... 26⁰ and humid. East of the city…"

I held a hand out towards Seunghyun's plate.

"Hot sauce."

He handed over the bottle without comment.

Well… without comment to me.

"Morning, the coffee pot should still be warm."

Jiyong nodded slowly, breaking free of his surprised freeze up. He poured himself a cup of coffee before not so casually taking the open seat next to me.

He sat somewhat crookedly, leaning on the countertop with one elbow and keeping his body facing me. I could feel the tension rising still.

"What's your plan today?" Jiyong sounded casual enough, but I thought I could hear the faintest strain in his voice.

I turned slightly, resting my head on my hand and flashing a flirtatious smile that morphed into a pout.

Seunghyun really was bringing the worst out in me.

"Good morning to you too, oppa."

Jiyong's face softened from "fearfully bewildered" to "annoyedly amused". It was the sort of look I might give Soo-ah when she was being drunk and cute. I knew I was in the clear.

"Ah," Jiyong took a brief sip of coffee before continuing, "good morning, jagi. What are your plans for today?"

I felt… something from the combination of the endearment and his more formal rephrasing of the question.

"Can you two not flirt in front of my breakfast?"

I swiveled in my chair to face Seunghyun.

"Why? Are you jealous… oppa?"

Seunghyun glanced at me, face as serious as ever. He gave my sweatshirt a meaningful look.

Ah, right. It's his sweatshirt, isn't it?

He took a deep breath before reaching out with his left hand and, still not really facing me, lifted a fallen side of the collar to cover my currently exposed shoulder.

"I imagine you and Taeyang are dancing again?"

I turned to face my plate, effectively splitting my attention between the two of them.

"Of course."

"I heard that he's even setting you up with costumes," Jiyong rejoined the conversation.

"For fuck's sake,” I dropped the edge of my toast onto my plate in annoyance, “why?”

“If you’re going to do it,” Seunghyun nudged me with an elbow, “then do it right.”

-----

"This seems like a bit much."

"You're the one who said we should do a full video."

Well shit, I couldn't exactly argue with that. Still, I felt self-conscious having my arms stretched out and measured by a… costumer? Tailor? I wasn't sure exactly what their job title would be.

"If I had known you'd take it this seriously I would have suggested a more fun song," I turned at the tailor's request.

"What do you mean?"

Taeyang stood holding shirt up slightly so that the cloth didn't drag or pull on the pins holding his pants in place.

"I'm just saying I wasn't expecting a trip to the wardrobe department."

Taeyang tied his shirt up around his midriff and crossed his arms. I would have laughed if he didn't already look tired of my shit.

"Is this about the scars?"

"Oh, wow," my eyes widened as my eyebrows tried to retreat from the awkward mood that was building.

"Um… it wasn't, but now I'm reconsidering."

He shook his head, "then what is it?"

I gestured vaguely around the racks of clothes and cloth.

"I thought we were just doing this for fun. Now it's this thing," I made awkward eye contact with one of the tailors, "and we're creating more work for more people."

"That's their job," Taeyang shrugged.

"Okay, but BlackPink is working on a comeback album, right? I'm sure they've got more important thi-"

"Excuse me," the man holding a set of fabric shears interrupted me, "if I could say something?"

"Yes," I opened my hands, "please. I feel so weird talking about you all as if you're not here."

The man laughed.

"We finished BlackPink's comeback outfits two weeks ago. We don't really have much to do for the next little while."

I grimaced, "is that true or are you being nice? What about Treasure? Don't they have promotions coming up?"

"Luna," Taeyang spoke up again, "it really is fine."

-----

Restless, I bounced up and down on my toes while I waited for Taeyang to appear with the keys to the studio.

"Can I make an observation?"

This may have been the first time that Chul had started a conversation that appeared to be unrelated to the show with me.

No, that couldn’t be right. I made a face when I tried to think through my interactions with Chul, then shook my head to get myself back into the moment.

"Sure."

"You weren't really worried about the costume staff, were you?"

"Well, no," I pushed my hair back from my face, "but also yes."

Chul laughed, his bunny-like front teeth fully exposed.

"What does that mean?"

I paused, trying to work out if this was a personal conversation or an interview.

"Well… I'm not always comfortable taking up space. But that's awkward to say," I rocked back on my heels, shrugging. "Sometimes it's easier to, um…"

A spreadsheet of idioms opened in my mind, yet I still couldn't find the correct words to explain.

"To protest on account of someone else?" Chul offered.

"Yes… that's manipulative, isn't it?"

"Depends on if you care or not."

"I guess that depends on how they're paid."

My brain finally processed that Chul's camera was tucked inside the massive carrying bag slung over his shoulder. Just a normal conversation then.

"How?"

"Well, if they're salary, then this is an inconvenience. If they're hourly or commission or something then this is extra money."

"I think they're hourly."

"Ah," I nodded, chagrined, "then I suppose it was manipulative. Maybe I could pretend there's a problem, give them extra hours to bill. It'd have to be something easy though."

"Why bother? I thought you didn't want to create more work for them?"

"It's one thing if I'm adding to their workload with no additional pay, but if they can add to their hours?" I shrugged, "they should get every bit of money that they can, right? I mean, how much money is this show going to create? And where is that money going to go? Straight to the execs who have done nothing to make it happen?"

I frowned dramatically, shaking my head.

Chul laughed again, now fiddling with some straps on his camera bag, but he didn't say anything more.

-----

"Hello!"

Taeyang and I turned towards the door to the studio.

While Taeyang simply nodded an acknowledgement, I was less rude.

"Chaeyoung, hi," I started loosely looping my chain whip around my hand so it didn't drag on the floor. "What's up?"

"Ah," she slid fully through the door, letting it close behind her, "I wanted to see about maybe scheduling some time with my self defense teacher?"

"Uh," I glanced at Taeyang, before answering, "well, sure. But I think it will be hard to schedule in the next two weeks."

"Three weeks."

"What?" I turned back to Taeyang, "there's only Jiyong and Seunghyun left."

"Yeah," Taeyang nodded, "and then the last week."

I turned to Chaeyoung, holding up a hand to pause everything that I possibly could, "I'm sorry, one moment."

Turning back to Taeyang, I spread my hands out, inviting the very filming schedule to fight me.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I heard Chaeyoung giggle slightly behind me. I recognized the tone of a nervous reaction.

"Actually it might be four now that I think of it. How did you not know about this? Didn't Jiyong explain?"

"Pretend he forgot, okay? What the hell?"

"Well," Taeyang sighed, "you know, you do all the weeks with us…" he paused, giving me time to nod, "and then there was some debate about doing a secondary all group week vs. a sort of 'honeymoon' week."

"Oh wow," Chaeyoung looked slightly put off as i turned back to face her, "I guess you'll be pretty busy then."

"Well, I don't know. Next week is Seunghyun, so I'll either be super busy or have nothing to do."

"Still," she seemed hesitant, "it sounds like by the time you're done, we'll have started promoting."

"Well, you have my number, right? Text me on Monday and I'll talk to Seunghyun. I'm sure we can find some time."

-----

"Can I ask you something?"

I plopped down in a heap next to Taeyang before responding.

"Go for it."

He smiled for a second before pressing on with his question.

"Why were you up so early today?"

"Ah, that," I waved a hand, putting on a show of casualness I did not feel, "Seunghyun insisted on making me breakfast. Speaking of eating," I quickly changed the subject, "what should we do for lunch?"

"I already have our deputy choreographer picking up something."

-----

The door to the studio swung violently open, crashing against the wall. I jumped so hard that the practice dagger in my hand was haphazardly flung across the room. It landed three feet next to where Bobby was now standing in the doorway.

Bobby, who had previously been humming some song I didn't recognize, froze.

"I can leave if you want, but I was actually invited for once so what the hell?"

"You scared the shit out of me!"

Taeyang was laughing, reaching for the bags swaying in Bobby’s grasp.

"Come on, let's take a break."

-----

Taeyang spent most of our lunch on the phone. I couldn't tell if it was work related, but I was genuinely disinterested and thankfully distracted.

"What type of clothes should I wear? What does Soo-ah like?"

From: Zico Text me when you get a minute

To: Zico What's up?

From: Zico Correct me if I'm wrong

To: Zico You're wrong

I glanced at Bobby’s phone. He had already shown me photos of the restaurant he had made reservations at. He had now moved on to swiping through jackets for sale online.

From: Zico ( ≖⌓≖ )

From: Zico I didn't even say the thing yet

"She won't really care. I know," I quickly typed my reply to Zico before continuing, "in some ways she may seem superficial, but as long as you don't look like a clown you'll be fine."

To: Zico I just assumed

"I don't think she's superficial," Bobby muttered, now looking at pants, "I just want to make a good impression."

From: Zico Nevermind. You already answered my question.

"She wouldn't have agreed to go if you didn't already do that."

To: Zico Okay okay what's up?

"You're not very helpful, you know?"

"I am very helpful, actually…" I paused as the next message popped up on my screen.

From: Zico Have I upset you in some way?

What an odd bit of conversational synchronicity.

"You're just not listening properly," I finished.

"Explain like I'm three then," Bobby pouted.

"She. Likes. You." I punctuated each syllable with a light kick to his sneakers.

To: Zico You're not wrong

To: Zico But you're not right either

From: Zico ( ੭눈 _ 눈 )੭

To: Zico I've never noticed how much the word eye looks like an eye before

To: Zico I'll have to explain later

To: Zico Sorry orz

-----

"Knock knock? Hello."

I looked up from the little star I was folding out of a strip of food wrapper.

"Ah," I started scrambling to stand up, "Seunghoon. What's up? Come in."

Seunghoon hesitated for another second before coming all the way through the door, waving for me to stay seated as he entered.

"I heard you two were doing a dance project," he spoke softly, obviously having noticed that Taeyang was still on the phone, "I wondered if I could come see."

"Sure, though…" I gestured behind me, towards Taeyang, "he's been on the phone for almost an hour now, so not much dancing happening right now."

"Where's Mino?"

I felt a tiny bit of my soul leave my body at Bobby’s words.

Seunghoon shrugged, "why would I know?"

"He usually makes an excuse to come see Luna," Bobby grinned, nudging me to emphasize his teasing.

"Oh shush," I held up a bag of chips towards Seunghoon, "sit. Have some."

"Oh yeah," Seunghoon squatted down next to Bobby, but declined the chips, "I heard he has a crush."

"Noona doesn't believe it."

"There's nothing to believe," I pushed Bobby slightly.

"I'm telling you, Min-"

"Let's stop talking about it," Seunghoon interrupted Bobby, "it doesn't matter. And it obviously makes Luna…" he paused, thinking it over, "noona, right? I'm '92."

"I'm '90," I automatically replied.

"That's right," Seunghoon turned his attention back to Bobby, "you’re making noona uncomfortable when you bring it up. Anyone can see that."

There was a beat of silence.

"Can you show me some of the choreography?"

I scrambled up and picked up the fan. Wiggling it in Seunghoon's direction, I invited him to join me.

"I'll teach you some things."

In truth we mostly just ended up with Seunghoon showing me how to do little dances and making videos.

“Do you mind if I post some?”

I thought that this may cause some sort of issue with Jiyong, but then I decided that I didn’t actually care about that right now.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Hey, sorry, I’m ready.”

Taeyang had rejoined us.

“Did you eat?” I gestured at the food.

“Oh yeah,” Taeyang sat down on the floor, kicking his feet out in front of him.

“What was the call about? Everything okay?”

Taeyang glanced at Bobby and Seunghoon, then shrugged.

“I just had to answer some questions.”

I was curious, but definitely had the feeling that this was not something he wanted to talk about. Especially not in front of the others.

“Okay,” I turned back towards Bobby, “so have you decided what you’re going to wear?”

“What do you think of this?”

He held up his phone, swiping between a couple of pictures of different items of clothing.

I resisted my instinct to annoy him more.

“That looks good, she’ll like that.”

I wasn’t lying. She would like it well enough, if she even really noticed it.

“What are you dressing up for?” Seunghoon asked Bobby.

I glanced between them, and then to where Chul was with his camera.

Chul gave me a head shake and facial expression that seemed to say not to worry about it.

“He’s got a date,” I explained simply.

“Ooooh,” Seunghoon made a teasingly impressed sound, “who with?”

“One of noona’s friends,” Bobby flipped the hood on his jacket up and tugged on the strings, hiding in the cinched cloth.

“Really?” Seunghoon gave me an appraising look, “you have any more friends?”

“Seriously?” Taeyang asked him in disbelief.

“No,” I laughed, “if it goes badly with Bobby and her I’ll let you know. But I was surprised to find out that he likes older girls.”

“Yeah, that’s more Mino’s thing,” Seunghoon suppressed a smile.

“You were doing so well until now,” Taeyang laughed out loud.

All three boys burst into laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, busying myself with opening a fresh water bottle, “you guys are going to feel like idiots when you realize there’s nothing there.”

“Ah, you can’t discourage your fans like that,” Taeyang scolded me.

“Okay,” I stood up, “are we going to finish practice or what?”

“Besides, hyung, aren’t you supposed to encourage her to like one of your members?” Bobby asked.

“Who? She hates Seunghyun, Seungri is an idiot, Jiyong just annoys her, and we have absolutely nothing between us.”

My mouth fell open. I hadn’t seen Taeyang in a mood like this before. There was a bite in his tone that made each statement seem like an insult.

“What about Daesung?” Seunghoon asked.

“That would be the best choice,” Taeyang glanced at me, “but he doesn’t seem her type.”

“I could… I don’t hate…” I kept pausing, trying to figure out if there was literally anything I could say that would end the conversation, “we’re not having this conversation,” I waved a hand, dismissing the entire situation, “we need to practice.”

Seunghoon and Bobby awkwardly looked at each other, but neither decided to push the conversation.

“Are you ready?” I was getting impatient.

“Yeah, fine, let’s do this.”

-----

It was an excruciatingly long day. Only two hours after we had eaten, a stream of different staff members started coming in and out of the studio.

Wardrobe workers stopped by to watch the dance carefully, making sure that the costume concepts would stand up to the action.

A director-slash-camera specialist of some sort at one point asked us to go through the entire routine one bit at a time, asking us to freeze at random intervals. A team led by a woman with three pencils tucked into her ponytail would carefully come and measure the distance between us.

Throughout the bustle of all the people that make things happen, Taeyang continued with his mood swings. He was polite and attentive to the staff, but spoke to me in short, one or two word sentences.

-----

“Filming will take all day tomorrow, and maybe Saturday, so don’t stay up late tonight.”

Taeyang’s mood was still strange as we drove back from the studio.

“Okay dad,” I had to be sarcastic. I had to. I was 98% sure that I had not done anything wrong. There was absolutely no reason for him to be acting like this.

He glanced over at me, but just shook his head rather than respond. The rest of the car ride went on in silence.

Once we arrived at the house however, he picked up the nagging again.

“I’m serious,” I barely heard him over the shuffle of getting into the house, his voice was so low.

“You guys are back early,” Daesung walked into the entry from the kitchen. He held a bowl of something in his hands.

I ignored Daesung.

“What the hell is your problem today?”

“Ah, okay,” Daesung awkwardly looked around for his exit options before simply returning to the kitchen.

“No problem,” Taeyang shoved his shoes under the little bench and headed deeper into the house.

Quickly, I stashed my own shoes and followed him. I saw Jiyong and Seunghyun in the living room as I passed it, but continued after Taeyang without acknowledging the hands raised in greeting.

“That’s bullshit,” I called down the hall.

“It has nothing to do with you,” Taeyang retorted before disappearing into his room.

“That’s why I’m annoyed,” I raised my voice slightly, given that we were now speaking through a door, “if it has nothing to do with me then why the fuck were acting like that during practice?”

The door swung open. Taeyang looked up at me, clearly annoyed.

“Why do you care? I didn’t even do anything to you.”

“Okay, sure, it was small but it’s still annoying,” in the outer edge of my peripheral vision I saw someone peek around the corner of the hall.

“What are you even talking about? I just told you to get some rest.”

“Your little assessment during the break? In front of Kim Jiwon and Lee Seunghoon?”

I saw Taeyang glance down the hallway. He sighed heavily before stepping backwards and gesturing for me to enter his room.

I stepped through the doorway and he closed the door behind me. Sighing again, he sat on the edge of his bed and looked up at me.

“You’re really upset about that?”

“Well, no. No offense but I don’t give a shit what you think about me and your members, but you’ve been kind of shitty all night and that’s where it started.”

He groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. Running his hands over his face and made some more frustrated noises.

“Look,” he leaned up on his elbows, “it’s really not your problem.”

“But you have now made it my problem.”

“Fine,” Taeyang sat up all the way now, “okay. My girlfriend called me today. She’s upset about the show.”

“Okay,” I nodded and leaned back against the door jam, “I mean I get it.”

“Right, that’s not anything crazy. But she’s specifically upset about the dance video.”

I felt my brows dip as I considered that.

“Why? Our,” I waved my hands, trying to summon the correct word, “characters, I guess, are rivals.”

He spread his hands and raised his eyebrows, the universal sign for not knowing.

“Right? But no,” he dropped his hands onto his lap and flopped back on the mattress once more, “I showed her some of the clips of our practice and she said that she thought it looked like an enemies becoming lovers concept.”

“Okay,” I rubbed my hands over my face before pulling them together in front of my chin, “putting aside that she’s, you know, wrong.”

“Mm-hm.”

“What can be done to lessen her concerns?”

“She asked me to change the concept,” Taeyang answered flatly, staring up at the ceiling.

“Kind of late for that. But,” I crossed the room to take a seat on his dresser, “what about just not doing the video?”

“This is going to sound stupid,” he hauled himself up to a sitting position once more, “but there are budget reasons that we can not cancel the video.”

“Wow, you are so right,” I nodded, “that does sound stupid.”

“The company wants to use the video for promo.”

“Okay,” I shook my head in annoyance, “what if she comes to the filming?”

“What?”

“What if she just comes and watches us do filming? It’s obvious to anyone that sees us together that there is absolutely nothing between us. I’m pretty sure even Chaeyoung can tell, and she’s seen us, what? Twice?”

“But if she’s seen on the show,” Taeyang shook his head, “we’re not ready to go public.”

“All that matters is what happens in front of the cameras, right? I could talk to Chul,” I shrugged, “see if he could just shoot around her.”

“Do you think he would do that?”

I thought back to the many moments that Chul had just conveniently forgotten to film so far.

“I do not think it will be a problem.”

-----

I entered the kitchen to find Daesung doing dishes.

“Are you two done fighting?”

“That wasn’t a fight,” I pulled a dripping glass from the dishrack and filled it with water, “but yes, we’re done.”

“What happened?”

“He was just being an asshole,” I sipped at the water before not clarifying, “nothing unusual.”

Daesung laughed, now wiping his hands on a towel.

“Is that so?” Seunghyun had appeared. He leaned against the counter.

I decided I needed to hurry up. I chugged back the rest of the water before answering him.

“Yes. By the way, Taeyang gave me advice on who to choose.”

I turned and started to wash the cup.

“Leave it,” Seunghyun entered the small area, “I’ll do it in the morning.”

I shrugged, putting down the sponge.

“Who does he think suits you?”

I gave Seunghyun a once over look before answering.

“Not you, that’s for sure.”

Daesung stifled a laugh.

“Anyway,” I changed the subject, “Where’s Jiyong? I want to talk to the three of you about something.”

-----

"So even after I'm done with you guys, I'm still not done with you guys?"

"It can't be that bad," Daesung wriggled his eyebrows from where he was sitting on the floor.

"As long as you live in Korea, you'll never truly be done with this."

I shut my eyes, wishing Seunghyun's words away.

"The more time I spend with all of you, the more convinced I am that staying single is the right choice."

"Really?" Jiyong asked.

"You've got to like at least one of us by now," Seunghyun prodded.

"Why do you sound so confident?" Daesung piped up, "we all know it's definitely not you."

"I think I'm at least in third place," Seunghyun shrugged, lifting a bottle of lotion from my dresser and examining it.

I had gathered the three men into my room so that I could complain about filming, because I now considered myself the closest with them.

It was not going well.

Daesung opened his mouth, but then seemed to come to agreement with Seunghyun's assertion. Instead, he turned back towards me.

"I admit, another full group week seems like overkill, but two weeks in a row with Jiyong could also get tiresome."

"What?" My brain caught up a second late. I stood up, pulling an eye shadow pallet out of Seunghyun's hands, "why do you assume it would be Jiyong?"

Seunghyun cracked a smile, raising his hands in a gesture that seemed nearly apologetic. He immediately started fiddling with a small perfume bottle instead.

Daesung started explaining himself.

"Besides the fact that out of the three of us here he's the only one comfortable enough to actually sit on the bed with you?"

"Daesung…" Jiyong didn't finish his admonishment. He didn't really need to.

"Fine, but we all know it, right?"

"Regardless of a choice that I still haven't made," I tried to regain control of the conversation, "I need to know how close I'm going to be cutting it with work starting."

"We're looking at 8 consecutive weeks," Jiyong grimaced, "and an option for specials."

"Specials? Like… a Christmas episode or something?"

I was making the conscious decision not to sit back down now. Thanks for that, Daesung.

"Yes," Jiyong shrugged, settling back against my headboard, "depending on how the actual show is received."

"Oh," I placed a hand on my own chest, emphasizing my next words, "I can make it be received poorly."

"Don't you dare," Seunghyun raised a hand that had one of my necklaces looped over it to point at me, "You're already a pain."

"I'm a pain? Would you please leave my shit alone? Sit down or something."

Seunghyun looked at his hand with mild surprise. He didn't say anything as he placed the chain back onto the vanity and "or something"-ed onto my mattress.

The briefest flash of alarm lit upon Jiyong's face as Seunghyun stretched out.

I had known he was fairly tall, but the new angle seemed to emphasize how long his body is.

What's the difference between tall and long?

"Okay," I shook my head, "alright. Okay, does anyone have anything productive to add before I kick you all out so I can go to bed?"

"I just got comfortable," Seunghyun complained.

"That was fast," Jiyong muttered.

"And it will be just as fast in your own rooms," I waved my hands, attempting to usher everyone towards the door.

Daesung and Jiyong stood and proceeded to leave. Seunghyun…

"I do have one more thing," he sat up and slid himself to rest against my headboard. Jiyong paused in the doorway.

"But it's unrelated," Seunghyun raised a single hand, just barely waving his fingertips, shooing Jiyong out.

Jiyong squinted slightly before letting the door shut behind him.

Arms crossed, eyes ready to roll, I leaned against the wall behind the door.

"Well?"

Seunghyun swung his legs over the far edge of the bed. Pulling himself to stand, he stuck one hand in his pocket. The other held a lighter. His thumb flicked over the flint, creating a satisfying scraping sound.

It was a habit I recognized from my own dalliances with nicotine.

"I don't actually have anything to talk about," he strolled back towards the vanity. He placed his lighter back into his pocket and once again started fiddling with the items spread out on top of it, "I just wanted to get on Jiyong's nerves."

I sighed, hanging my head for a moment.

"I would have thought you'd have more books in here."

Another sigh rushed through my lungs as I resigned myself to Seunghyun's oddness. I moved to sit at the foot of my bed, placing myself within range to interfere with his exploration of my things if the need arose.

"Why's that?"

"You went to the bookstore with Daesung, and Jiyong said he got a book recommendation from you."

"Recommendation?" My mind lagged for a moment, searching for when that had happened.

"Oh! Yeah, I mean… he kind of just started reading while waiting for me."

"And yet," Seunghyun gestured around the room, "no books."

"The… here," I stood and went to the insanely large closet, "they're packed away still."

"In there?"

I jumped, not having heard him follow me into the little room.

He was nodding towards a blue box that sat in front of a barely filled clothing rack.

"Yeah, take a look if you like."

"I don't actually care," Seunghyun knelt down and started sifting through the books, "I'm just looking for clues."

I blinked once, twice, a semi-rhythmic series of beats, and shook my head.

"Okay, sure. Well if you decide you want to borrow something later on, go ahead.”

Seunghyun stood, checking his watch.

“Alright, I think that’s long enough to get Jiyong annoyed.”

“Remind me again why you’re trying to get on his nerves?”

Seunghyun smiled at me. Was this the first time? I couldn’t remember clearly. Maybe it was just the first time that it seemed genuine?

“You want to know the truth?”

He stepped towards me, just as close as he had been that morning.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t know.”

With that he laughed, and swept out of the room.

-----

To: Chul I have no right to do this, but I have a favor to ask you

From: Chul Let me call you.

To: Chul Okay

My phone started ringing almost as soon as I hit send on the second message.

"Thanks for calling," I answered.

"No problem," I could hear music in the background, but it faded slightly, only to be replaced by the sound of traffic.

"What did you need?"

"Are you out somewhere?" I asked.

"I can't have a life?" Chul laughed.

"I just don't think of you as the going out type," I explained before redirecting, "it's about filming tomorrow."

"Ah, okay, what about it?"

"Again, I have no right to ask but... well... you've been very helpful before..." I trailed off.

"As long as I won't lose my job, I'm open to favors."

"Okay, okay," I decided to finally just ask, "someone may be coming to the filming tomorrow, and Taeyang needs that person to not be on film."

"Ah, his girlfriend? Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because I didn't know you knew," my voice cracked slightly.

Chul laughed before reassuring me, "don't worry about it. I know more than you might think."

"Really?" I hoped that the panic rising in my chest wasn't obvious in my tone, "like what?"

"Like who wants to beat Jiyong at the end."

#Date Roulette #DR:TY #T.O.P #Choi Seunghyun #Daesung #Kang Daesung #Taeyang #Dong Youngbae #G Dragon #Kwon Jiyong #Kpop #Kpop Fanfic #Mino #Song Minho #Bobby #Kim Jiwon #Seunghoon #Lee Seunghoon #Rosé #Park Chaeyoung #Winner #iKon #Blackpink #Big Bang

[kravkalackin]

“Could I perhaps ask you something? I don’t want to be rude, I’ve just been beyond curious all night,” Kravitz said, and he genuinely could not remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much. It was a little frustrating if he was being honest. 

He just wasn’t a fan of their typical galas and balls. Everyone trying to vie for his attention, having to put on a show all night, knowing that he couldn’t trust anything someone said as a genuine compliment or desire to get to know him. It was all a careful dance for power. 

His mother had suggested the masquerade idea, just to give him a night where he could have some fun and not have to worry about all those things. He really hadn’t thought it would work, that people would just be able to sense it was him or something. There was certainly a lot of talk about where the prince was all night, but Kravitz really wasn’t paying much mind to it. 

Sure, the accent was a little silly, but most people seemed to have no idea it was him under all the feathers and gems. His current companion seemed none the wiser, at least.

“Shoot, can’t promise I’ll answer though,” he said, and Kravitz could just make out a wink through the eyehole of the rather peculiar mask he wore. 

“Fair enough,” he said, smiling despite himself. “I was just wondering what exactly is your mask?” he asked, and the other man laughed. It was a louder laugh than was typically considered polite at these things, and Kravitz noticed several people look their way. He found he didn’t much care though. “I just, I can’t tell if it’s a weasel or a rat or, well whatever it is it’s certainly cute,” he added quickly. 

“Mongoose my man,” his companion said confidently. Kravitz raised an eyebrow at that, but it probably remained unseen under his own mask. 

“Certainly a unique choice. Why did you go with a mongoose?” he asked, because it was simply interesting. This man was so interesting, Kravitz couldn’t remember the last time he just talked to someone for so long, and he wasn’t anywhere near bored. 

“They have specialized acetylcholine receptors that make them impervious to venom,” he answered breezily, which wasn’t the answer Kravitz expected. “Very surprisingly dangerous, they’re known for killing snakes,” he continued. 

“What about birds?” Kravitz asked, the other man pausing for a moment as he gave him a look over, clearly taking in the black feathered mask of his before chuckling. 

“I don’t think you gotta worry your pretty little head there babe,” he said, and Kravitz was thankful for the mask in an all new way now. No one could see his embarrassment. Before he could think of some way to respond his companion was changing the subject. “So, you ever been to one of these shindigs before?” he asked. Kravitz chuckled a bit as he nodded. 

“A few, yes. And you?” he asked, and it felt a little like cheating, but he’d been trying to place the man all night. Certainly if they’d met before he would have remembered someone like him, but there were so many people at these things, and Kravitz was a bit of a recluse. 

“No, first time actually. Was kind of hoping to meet the prince,” he said, and Kravitz was trying to remember if there was anyone of note they had invited this time. He had not been paying attention to the guest list though, he never did. 

“Oh, I doubt anyone’ll see him. From what I hear he’s not much of a fan of the big parties,” he said, hoping it came off as casual. His new friend didn’t seem suspicious, shrugging without much care.

“I guess I can get that. I mean to be fair, when I came to this thing I expected to do a lot more dancing than walking around a garden,” he said, and they had been out in the garden for a while. Most of the night, if he was being honest. “Can’t say I’m complaining though,” he added. His voice sounded genuine, and taking a deep breath Kravitz steeled his nerves. 

“Would you care for a dance?” he managed to get up the courage to ask, holding out a hand. The other man seemed surprised, glancing down at his hand for a moment before nodding and taking it. The music was quieter out here, but they could still hear it just fine. 

“Sure, wouldn’t mind knocking another thing off the ol’ bucket list,” he said, moving in closer. Kravitz fell into leading with ease, and it was honestly a little funny as his companion tried to follow. He was clumsier than expected, but it didn’t take too long for them to get into a rhythm. Slower than Kravitz was used to to compensate, but yeah he certainly couldn’t complain. 

They kept talking as they danced, and Kravitz had no idea how long they kept like that for. He did know that he was gripped with the desire to pull up this endlessly intriguing man’s strange adorable mask just enough to be able to kiss him more times than he would care to admit. 

The clock charmed for midnight, and he was very disappointed when the man in his arms pulled away. 

“Shit, is it that late already? I should... probably be heading out,” he said, and Kravitz wasn’t able to hide his disappointment at that. 

“These tend to go well into two or three in the morning. Perhaps you could stay another hour?” he offered. The man looked conflicted before eventually shaking his head. 

“Nah, I’d love to, but I’ve got a shift in the morning. It’s already gonna be hell waking up after all this,” he said, and Kravitz cocked his head to the side curiously at that. 

“A shift?” he asked, and ask soon as the question left him the other man froze. He could see his eyes go wide inside the mask, an obviously caught red handed look on his face. 

“Y-yeah, that’ll just be our little secret, alright babe?” he asked, trying to sound confident but not quite managing to capture the same ease as before. Kravitz probably would have brushed it off, but from that reaction, combined with so many other little idiosyncrasies from the night that did nothing but charm him, one thing was obvious. 

Whoever this was, he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“I really should head out,” he continued, and Kravitz wanted to keep protesting. The words got stuck in his throat when suddenly this man closed the distance between them again. He couldn’t see when his mask was pushed up just enough to expose his lips, but he didn’t hesitate to respond when the stranger gave him an all too short kiss. 

“But thanks, it was, ya know, a regular fucking fairytale of a night,” he said once he pulled away. 

“Wait-” he tried, but his companion was already dashing off between some of the large bushes and topiaries. He went after him, because he had to get his name. There was no way Kravitz would be able to find him again if he lost him now, not if he wasn’t even on any official guest list. 

Whoever he was though, he was fast. 

And apparently sneaky. None of the guards reported seeing a man in a mongoose mask leaving through the front exits.  

It didn’t make any sense. It was strange and inscrutable and utterly fascinating. 

And Kravitz was utterly in love. 

#taz #the adventure zone #taakitz #kravitz #taako #ps: taako works in the palace kitchen #which is how he snuck in and out #damn now i'm invested in this one too #i keep doing these drabbles just to keep my mind active #while i struggle to write long form fics #but then i get invested #promise i'm coming back to that warlock barry idea from yesterday too #one of these days i will have energy again and then it'll be all over for y'all

[sasster]

Confluence

Google Docs for the ones who hate pink, but I hope you like red.

The heavy hand of Harlans acts seemed to have eased up now that he had you all under his thumb in the ways that he did.

Benjin, his perfect heir. The puppet with strings drawn so tightly, they could snap at the slightest bit of resistance. 

There was his tool, a method for control. He could give or take away as he pleased. The load bearing Veylin. Someone to conveniently shunt his unwanted emotions onto, as well.

His beloved trophy. With a shell that resembled a long lost love. One that he knew better than the boy did himself. To serve as a sentimental token of days long since past. A toy, a gift, from his Orfuse. You, Zurven. 

Today was no different, you were all separated by your new "duties", as was the new norm. No one was surprised with whom he selected to tail him the entire day. It was you. (Shock. Awe.) When you reported to him in the throne room, his pleasant smile made your nerves start to dance. How fucked up is it to miss his typically enraged demeanor? Scale of 1 to 10.

At least he was less normal, less of a person. You hate that the voices of the past have cleared enough that this was a genuine thought formulated for Zurven by Zurven. All on his own.

You miss the abject horror. 

There was some solace to be sought, at least. The fact that it looked like he wouldn't be playing around with your powers for as long as he thought your brain was still scrambled. Not for any normal reason like concern or care, obviously, but to keep his results as clean as possible. The man of intellect he is.

Well, that's just a matter of shifting from foot to foot, pausing for long intervals, especially when asked a question. Adopting mannerisms you observed, but not overusing them. Simple. It was all simple. Yeah, you got this. 

There was something so strange about standing next to the behemoth and his throne. You felt so small. You were so small.

From the vantage point of a large majority of the followers, the height of the thrones resting place coupled with the angle of the organ on the floor just before it, they could maybe see the tips of your horns.

So, why keep you here? 

The lack of expectation was nice, though. Just stand there and look obedient. Just be quiet. No one was going to be triggering your powers here. The droning of the Otrames' sermon started to fade into the background, and you find yourself alone with your thoughts for once.

Funny, you were excited for the opposite of alone time. That's there your thoughts drifted to. Curled up against Benjin, Veylin wrapped up on his other side. You would be teaching the two of them shadow puppets while Ben filled the silence with facts about his favorite bug of the day.

There would be no silence, for Veylins sake.

That's the plan for tonight. 

But, Zurven.

Have you already forgotten the dangers of daydreaming?

You are drifting.

Enjoy your trip. 

"I was ... Subdued."

The voice came across from the sparsely decorated room, it was gruff, and the three words fought to get out from around what appeared to be too many damn teeth. The large troll that the words came from stood perfectly still, hanging his head in admonishment. It looked as though he was awaiting assessment.

“Subdued.” Came the echo, the facade that held his smile and cheerful voice together cracked about a week ago. His anger was punctuated by the way the word pierced the air. The feeling radiated from his core and coated every single one of his nerves. How he loathed the feeling. The seadweller did not respond. He was not expected to yet. “By a cerulean wiggler. Is that correct, Remora?”

The seadweller nods.

“I said. Is that correct, Remora?”

“Yes, my light.”

His anger surged, the red glow from his partner danced across his features and painted a picture he would tear to pieces.

His Faithful Devotion did not recoil at the sight, it almost looked like he softened, actually. Watching his matesprit with a sort of reverence as he stalked closer to where he stood from across the room. Oh, he could barely keep a lid on the swoon. Erh, devoted indeed. You can tell right now would be a very bad time to give into that urge. What a remarkable show of restraint!

You.

What about you? Oh, that’s right! You are Zurven Saekul, passive observing something that hasn’t happened yet, otherwise the thrumming of this trolls anger would feel more like a cardiac event. This is fine. The future is nothing. This will have no effect on you! You really missed the objectivity of future visions. You really never thought you’d say that, either.

Really, you don’t even know who these guys are. Faithful Devotion? What a name. Who was the other guy, though? Like, besides pissed off. It was mounting, his lips pursed into a line as he leered at his partner.

“How did she manage that?” “Her powers are far more developed…Than we were led to believe, my love.” “Control you, did she?” His words were like acid, the way he spit them. “Too developed for a man your age?”

To his credit, Devotion did not move a muscle. He met the smaller man's gaze. “She is very practiced.”

“Practiced? Is that right? Here, my love, let me show you practiced.”

His Devotion did not have a chance to object, you get the idea he wouldn’t have, before a vacant look overtook his features. There was now a sort of glossy sheen to the red glow in his eye. And he stood there. Stock still. As though he’d just gone on a vacation, but he’d forgotten to tell his body.  You could tell the influence came from the troll that you were observing through – It made your stomach lurch. Your stomach that lived all the way in the past, present, whatever. Not the time you were viewing. That. Is a new development.

He continued to speak, circling his stagnant matesprit as he did. “Oh my love, I hope you can forgive my anger. Nasty feeling. But, my disappointment is immeasurable.” He gently touches the tips of his fingers to the finned tip of Devotions tail, as it whipped lamely around. You really don’t think he can hear anything being said to him. What did he do to him?

“It pains me to send you away, but you understand. I am so sorry to do this to you.” In his defense, there was a sadness that seeped in, weaving its way around the overwhelming anger. Even objectively, you can feel the pull of his emotions. That shouldn’t happen. You can’t imagine how much worse this could feel.

He walked back over to the far end of the room, where he’d started, and stops in front of a vanity. Glaring his reflection in its mirror.

He. Was. A. Mess. His hair was fraying out from the top of his head to the tip of his braid. Beyond his mean-spirited scowl, he looked as though he hadn’t had a decent rest or good meal in. A month, if you had to guess. All of this, accented by the red glow of the unmoving giant that stood behind him.

Look at what she’d done to him.

“Veylin fucking Kenshe.” He hissed her name at his reflection as he reached up to begin undoing his mess of a braid. Who the fuck does she think she is?

You wish you weren’t currently occupying someone elses body, you’d like very much to take in a deep breath and yell at the top of your lungs. Is there always going to be something? You watch as he smooths his hair over from the top, brushing his flyaways down. 

Why does it always have to be something?

Once he is done rebraiding his hair, he moves on to readjusting and retucking his shirt.

This man. What was his title, again?

He pauses and stares at himself in the mirror. Is he preening?

It’s on the tip of your tongue.

All of a sudden, his features soften. He is no longer scowling at his reflection, he even smiles a bit. Doesn’t do much for the bags under his eyes, but he looks. Kinder. Inviting now. He is focusing on something else. Perhaps his mate that looms behind him in his stasis?

Oh! That’s right.

The Gracious Provider. He is supposedly a very kind man, takes far less than he gives. Prominent. Well known.

And, apparently, he hates Veylin.

He locks eyes with himself in the mirror.

No, actually.

He locks eyes with you.

“And the infant Saekul?” His voice is steady, he sounds nothing like he did a bit ago. “You will have to forgive me, child. But my home, much less my bedroom, is decidedly off limits to visitors.”

The world is shaking.

“I thank you for your understanding.”

It doesn’t make sense. It really does not.

This doesn’t happen.

It doesn’t matter. Because, once again, you are forcibly ejected from the vision.

–

The red glow you’d just grown accustomed to is very quickly replace, and missed, as you find yourself suddenly bathed in pink. You are shaking beneath his gaze, but for once it is not for anything related to him.

Having never touched the stuff yourself, you could really used a mind alteringly alcoholic drink right now.

Ugh, fuck. Fucking Harlan. Fucking Gracious Provider.

What the hell is Veylin going to do to him?

#coko writes sometimes #long post #kicks my feetsies

[keilemlucent]

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink 

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!! 

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle. 

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well. 

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously. 

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly. 

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back. 

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?” 

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort. 

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day. 

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed. 

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift. 

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do. 

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were. 

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were. 

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles. 

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix. 

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work. 

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat. 

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts. 

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull. 

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report. 

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home. 

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this. 

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be. 

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills. 

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness. 

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap. 

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets. 

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn. 

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality. 

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— 

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea. 

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock— 

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap— 

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch. 

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes— 

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes— 

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips. 

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough. 

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on. 

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize. 

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!” 

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you. 

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective. 

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way. 

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head. 

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets. 

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it. 

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering. 

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise. 

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair. 

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms. 

“Are you sure?” 

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach. 

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere. 

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze. 

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized. 

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt. 

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself. 

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it. 

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips. 

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw. 

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake. 

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring. 

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips. 

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind. 

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you. 

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty. 

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways. 

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves. 

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn. 

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?” 

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind. 

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender. 

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust. 

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper— 

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?” 

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks. 

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

 “Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 ||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks imagines #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #happy birthday birdie <33 #heart full #its been a weird couple of days BUT!! #here #some good soft smut and just #goodness #and hurt too bc :) #anyways enjoy lovies!!!

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll. 

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group. 

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share. 

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head. 

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look. 

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up. 

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase. 

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win. 

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.” 

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files. 

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth. 

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds. 

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat. 

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space. 

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink. 

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs. 

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon. 

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in. 

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now. 

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him. 

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face. 

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head. 

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard. 

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again. 

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner. 

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries. 

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time. 

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door. 

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood

[angellesword]

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (05)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

SERIES: CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 6

"Marry me."

When Jungkook said this, you honestly thought that he wanted to sing Jason Derulo's Marry Me.

It made sense. The two of you were inside a karaoke booth, singing obviously. It was Sunday, meaning both of you would be back to reality tomorrow: you had to go to work and Jungkook needed to talk to Soojin.

He couldn't date your sister because he was already dating you, though you told Jungkook not to broadcast your relationship with anyone.

Not yet. This wasn't the right time. You first needed to see how Soojin would react. You didn't want her to think that you stole Jungkook or something.

That wasn't the case. You liked Jungkook even before Soojin liked him. There was no point in denying your feelings.

Seventeen years of running was already enough. How could you escape when Jungkook already conquered your heart?

You were sure he liked you too, probably more than you liked him.

"Kook, you just sang Savage Love. Do you seriously want to blast another Jason Derulo's song?" You groaned, expecting him to argue, or to pout and beg you to play the song.

However he only stared at you, pursing his lips into a thin line before letting out a deep breath.

"No, Tiger," no matter how serious the topic was, Jungkook's voice would always be soft. "I'm asking you to marry me..."

It was your turn to stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry," you blinked after a moment of silence. You thought he would suddenly laugh and tell you he was joking.

"D-Did you say you want to marry me?"

Apparently, he wasn't kidding. Jungkook found satisfaction when it comes to teasing you, but not to the point where it was making you uncomfortable.

This was making you uneasy, yet he continued, a silent confirmation that this was real.

He wanted to marry you.

"Kook," you went near him, touching his shoulders. "I know you said we had the best time last night, I did too. I'm glad I kissed you and finally admitted my feelings for you."

You tried to remember every detail of what happened last night. You two kissed, went to his apartment, and reminisced about your moments when you were younger.

Jungkook implied that he would do the worst just for you. You remembered laughing and saying that he actually brought the best in you.

And then you remembered telling him you liked him and wanted to take your relationship into another level. He agreed, more than happy to date you despite your condition of keeping the relationship a secret.

You made yourself perfectly clear with what you wanted, and it seemed like he understood. He kissed you before falling asleep last night. When he woke up, he called you his girlfriend and asked you to go on a date with him.

This day was supposed to be all about you and him. The plan was to cook lunch together, watch some tv series, cuddle, and go out in the evening to go to a karaoke booth.

You had a fun time until now.

Why was he making this complicated by suddenly proposing to you?

"I'm sorry," Jungkook apologized, caressing the back of your hand which was still placed on his shoulder.

"I was...excited and caught up in the moment—" He paused, like something struck him.

"Never mind, Tiger." He pinched your cheeks. "I'm just messing with you."

You tried to speak, but Jungkook already turned away from you, grabbing his mic.

"Ah, I'm going to sing Dancing Queen and you can't stop me!"

The worry lacing your system vanished as soon as you saw his bunny smile.

"I wanna sing too!" So you grabbed your mic too, joining him.

The night was perfect once again.

It was so perfect that your mind and heart refused to accept the things that would ruin your Sunday date with Jungkook.

"After years of building things, two great architects of today finally decided to build a life together: Head Architect Jeon Jungkook asked Corporate Heir Kim Soojin to marry him."

You turned off your phone, baffled. No. This couldn't be true. Why would the media report fake news?

You were just with Jungkook a short while ago. You were at his place the whole weekend. He even dropped you off at the office earlier today before driving to the construction site. He also told you he would pick you up later for dinner. He knew Mondays were stressful so he wanted you to relax a bit.

So what just happened?

What was happening?

Why were things changing?

"Oh my! I knew it!" Fran, your coworker, gasped. She turned to your table.

"Girl! Have you watched the news? Head architect Jeon and team leader Kim are getting married!" She squealed, getting the attention of your other colleagues.

They all started to check their phones to confirm the news, some of them even spread the 'gossip' to the other departments. Moments later, you were sure that everyone in this building already knew about the announcement.

They seemed happy for Jungkook and your sister. You knew you should be thrilled too, especially because this was what Soojin wanted from the very start.

Unfortunately you couldn't even smile. Your stomach was crunching and you felt like you were going to vomit.

You were beyond confused. Did the media make a mistake or was Jungkook playing with your feelings?

It was probably the latter, right? Everyone was confirming the news. Soojin also texted you. It was the final blow.

[3:34pm] Soojin: Cancel your plan this evening! We'll be having family dinner, 7pm at our mansion. See you!

You were in the middle of reading her message when she sent another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: The dinner's a mini celebration for JK and I! We're engaged! I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately! We're soooo busy right now.

And then there was another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: I'm so happy, sis! Can't wait to tell you the deets! Don't be late, ok?

You were not hesitating anymore. You were positive that Jungkook only played with your feelings.

Soojin wouldn't appear this happy if she was lying. Or was she pretending?

You weren't sure what to believe. Maybe it would be best to just let things be for now. You had to concentrate on your work. The truth would come out later this day anyway.

You texted Soojin back.

[4:02pm] You: See you later.

The clock continued to tick while you were losing your mind. You couldn't focus on your work no matter how many times you scolded yourself. In the end, you accomplished nothing. It didn't matter. You only had less than an hour before your shift ended.

You left the office at exactly five pm. You were planning on taking the bus, but you were surprised when you saw Taehyung waiting for you in the lobby.

"Oppa?" You greeted, unsure. One of the security employees told you that your brother was meaning to see you. They just didn't let him on your floor because he didn't set an appointment with you.

"You wanted to see me?" You asked when he just nodded at you. He was expressionless.

"Yes. We're going home together. Family dinner, remember?" He reminded you as if you weren't looking forward to that.

"Okay..." You responded since you didn't know what else to say. It seemed like he also didn't have the time to explain anything to you. Perhaps he simply wanted to drive you home.

"Do you know what Soojin and Jungkook like? I want to buy them an engagement gift," your brother blurted out.

You two were at the parking lot, looking for his car.

You stopped walking.

Huh. So he picked you up because he wanted your help? Why were you even surprised?

"It's okay if you don't know." Taehyung looked back at you upon realizing that you were frozen in the middle of the parking lot.

"I'll just buy them champagne or whatever." He shrugged, finally finding the car. He opened the door of the passenger seat for you.

"Let's go."

You blinked, entering the car.

Taehyung had a nice vehicle. It was clean and it looked brand new. The whole ambiance of his car was comfortable, yet you were fidgeting.

The silence was killing you.

"Soojin likes Dom Pérignon..." So you opened a topic related to his gift to the engaged couple.

Taehyung glanced at you, speaking only when the traffic light turned red.

"What about Jungkook?"

You flinched at the mention of your best friend's name.

"Huh?" And then you swallowed thickly, trying to calm your crazy heart.

"You said Soojin likes Dom Pérignon champagne. That's nice, but what about what Jungkook likes?" He licked his bottom lip, stepping on the gas once again. The traffic light flashed green.

"The gift is for the both of them. Not just for Soojin..."

You didn't know why but you felt as though Taehyung was implying something.

"I-I guess he doesn't mind that brand too..."

"Hm," Taehyung's jaw ticked. "It's best to just ask him, don't you think? Better know the truth first before jumping into conclusion..."

"Some things are taken prima facie..."

Taehyung laughed because of what you said.

"Really?" The corner of his mouth turned up. "I saw you kissing Jungkook at the party last Saturday. You both entered the same car after that. You didn't even go home for two nights. If I took this in a prima facie way, the conclusion is that you're Jungkook's mistress, right?"

Your face turned pale because of his claim. Shit. He saw you?

"I thought you left with Y-Yoongi." You stammered, turning to look at him.

You couldn't see his expression. His attention was focused on the street before him.

"Oh I did. But he wanted to check on you first. He was feeling guilty, you know? Said he didn't want to leave you alone..." He smiled, like he found Yoongi endearing.

"He only stopped worrying when he saw you with Jungkook."

"Oh." You bit your lower lip. You hadn't talked to Yoongi yet. Why didn't he text you? Why didn't he warn you? How were you supposed to defend yourself now?

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Luckily you didn't have to explain yourself.

Taehyung understood.

"Not that I condone cheating. I just know Jungkook isn't in a relationship with Soojin so he's not really doing anything wrong. Man..." He shook his head. "I don't even know why they're suddenly getting married, it's so fucked up."

You remained silent.

"And speaking of relationships..." Taehyung cleared his throat when you kept your mouth shut. "Don't tell anyone about my thing with Yoongi."

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." You mimicked what he said a few breaths ago.

He smirked again.

"Good. If our family asks, I'll tell them we're together the whole weekend, unless of course you have a more believable lie..."

You didn't. You thought it wasn't necessary anymore. None of them asked where you were. You doubted that they knew you weren't home for two nights .

Usually Soojin bothers you. Sin-ae too. The latter would question you all the time, finding fault in your answers because she clearly enjoyed watching you get scolded by your father.

You wondered why they suddenly stopped bothering you. Were they too busy planning the engagement announcement? You saw Sin-ae's short interview. She confirmed to the public that her only daughter was indeed getting married.

"It's fine. But you told them where we went. I don't know what to say to them." You weren't close to Taehyung. It would be odd to know that you two were together the whole weekend.

"Don't worry, sister. I got it covered." Your brother winked at you, stopping the car.

You had arrived at the mansion.

Your heart skipped a beat as you muttered "Let's get this over with," under your breath.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #armywriterssupport #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #best friend jungkook #jungkook best friends to lovers

[smelted-applejuice]

Peacekeeper

Pairings; Dream x Reader Pronouns; She/Her Desc; Songfic based off of Peacekeeper by Fleetwood Mac

Sorry it’s not they/them pronouns! I forgot to change them and I’m too sick to change them, when I get better I may go through and edit them! -

[YourName] trained in multiple fields, her main two beings would be Psychology and protection. She went into the psychology field under the idea she would be a therapist on the server, but Puffy would take that over so instead, she went into protection training where her true colors were shown. [YourName] bloomed beautifully within the field so much that she was sent to the prison on the server. This is where and how she met the one and only, the mastermind, the true enemy of the server; Dream. Dream hadn’t expected to actually fall for [YourName], she was simply another pawn under his control. It would take a moment but he warmed up to her, he was the spark he felt when she held his wrists together and flipped him onto his back after teasing. “HEY! Don’t hurt him too much, [YourName], he’s on his last life!” Sam yelled from the other side of the lava, “Yes sir!” [YourName] yelled back. That’s when, at that moment, Dream knew he had to escape and she would be by her side.

  He watched her take her helmet off, stare him down, and he simply melted on the spot right there. “You’re too easy.” She commented once more before leaving the cell and returning to Sam where he could only listen to her voice speak to Sam’s tired one. “Yeah, I’ll watch him tonight, you rest up.” [YourName] said, and right then and right then and there Dream knew exactly his nightly plans- throw the clock into the lava wall as many times as possible and butter up the new guard. “Last clock before Sam returns, Dream” [YourNane] warned, but for some reason she found herself hoping Dream would destroy the clock once more and she would be forced to hand over a new one. She watched as the male with a ruined mask ran around with a smile upon his face and green eyes shimmering with as much mischief as he could muster within the prison cell. [YourName] shook her head when she heard Dream yell “Alright pretty guard! I only do it to see your face anyways” from behind the wall of lava. Sam would return refreshed and actually happy to have a full night’s rest. [YourName] was barely making it and with a laugh, Sam dismissed [YourName] from her post and let her rest for the day. It didn’t rack Sam’s brain that Dream was awfully quiet, he had assumed the male spent the night bothering [YourName]- the clock bin was lacking a mass amount of clocks, and the form to enter the cell was full of [YourName]’s signature. Sam thought Dream was asleep. He was wrong. Dream was pushing through for a few hours plotting and planning carefully how he was going to get close to [YourName]. Obviously, he could just talk to her, but he knew she wouldn’t respond for she was on duty to watch him- not talk to him. He snapped his fingers and smiled to himself when he thought of the perfect plan, he got to rest the day away, waking up just in time for Sam and [YourName] to switch once again. He would throw a clock out every two hours, buttering up to [YourName] each time she opened his cell and replaced his clock. “I think you’re a nice person, Sam would’ve yelled at me by now” Dream said sweetly as he stood in the corner watching the (HairColor) haired girl make her way over to his wall, “Oh yeah? Well, you need human contact.” she simply put it as she turned around and made her way to the exit. Dream perked up at her niceness, “I’m glad you’re my human contact!” he yelled as she was transported back to her office. [YourName] flustered at his statement, but chose to ignore him and not think too deep into it. Each night would be like this before [YourName] gave in and was willing to actually sit there and talk to Dream. Dream was smoother than she had thought he would be and it would be mere hours one night before she realized while laying in the prison guard’s room, she had fallen for the high-risk prisoner. She knew it was wrong but it made it ten times better for her, she was forced to be with him throughout the night until sunrise, so it only gave her more of a reason to like her job. A few months into her crush, coming up a year of working under the prison’s rule, she finally confessed to her forbidden crush. During his clock replacement, he was doing it to look at [YourName] who trusted him enough to not wear her helmet while doing these rituals. “Hey Dream?” She paused looking over to the prisoner, “I like you, a lot.” she confessed casually. Those words made Dream perk up with excitement and joy, he’s one step closer to escaping and getting a pretty lady under his control. It would take another half a year, but Dream proposed to get out of the cell, but not directly, Sam still didn’t know about their relationship and they planned on keeping it that way. If Sam were to find out about their relationship, Dream would be placed into a higher security cell and [YourName] would easily be fired on the spot- neither of them wanted that. Dream watched his girlfriend replace his clock slowly, sulking in as much time as they could get together. “I think I need to get out of here.” Dream said randomly. [YourName] shook her head, “I can’t do that, darling” [YourName] explained sadly “I would if I could” she finished her statement. “Then do it, help me escape, I know people who are willingly to help out.” Dream said walking over but keeping his distance all at once, he didn’t want to threaten her. “I know, I know, you’ve mentioned the favor that Technoblade owes you.” she said sighing “But I can’t be wanted, I joined the area and then immediately became a prison guard-- I can’t do that to people.” she explained sadly. Dream huffed, “Then you don’t love me enough.” he said easily holding their relationship above her head. She panicked, not knowing what else to do nor say, “Fine! Fine! I’ll go speak to Technoblade, I’m sorry, I do love you.” [YourName] said, rushing over to hug the male. Dream simply smiled and returned the hug, not a word spoken for the rest of the night. When [YourName] was released from her post, she had made her way to Technoblade's house where she sat and had a long conversation with Philza Minecraft and The Blade himself while petting Steve. It was decided that by the end of the month they would help Dream escape and [Yourname] would strip her prison guard title to be with Deam. It was a hard choice, but it was managed to be made within The Blade and Steve’s house. The end of the month came sooner than [YourName] liked, they managed to get Dream out. [YourName] reported that he was quiet and no clocks were replaced that night, so while Sam was distracted [YourName] took her armor off and booked it to be with Technoblade and Dream outside the back of the prison. The three ran just in time to hear the alarms go off. Hey managed to just barely make it but Dream was once freer. Technoblade welcomed him in his home for one night and that would be in, so [YourName] stayed with him. Dream hugged the woman from behind and smiled, “I’m a free man!” he whispered, swaying the two of them. The soft sway turned into a slight dance once she turned around and properly held onto his hands. The giggles and excited laughter from both [YourName] and Dream was heard throughout the housing community. She was his, and he was her’s.

#Dream smp x reader #x reader #dream x reader #c!dream x reader #dream x you #dream x yn #dream x y/n #c!dream x you #c!dream x yn #c!dream x y/n

[spooderboyandtincan]

tonystank and bananaboy

TW: Tony and Peter are playing Among Us, and there’s a pretty graphic scene where a character gets killed but it’s pretty brief! So please be careful and look out for that! 

Or: Read on Ao3!

~~~~~

“It’s snowing! Mr. Stark, it’s snowing!” Peter cried, spinning around with a gleam in his chocolate brown eyes. 

Tony looked up from the tray of cookies he had just pulled out of the oven and smiled. He pulled off the oven mits and walked over to stand with his kid at the big window in the living room. “Wow.”

Large, sparkling snowflakes were falling peacefully against the dark sky, illuminated by the bright lights of the city. Peter watched them dance down with wonder in his eyes, his breath fogging on the icy glass. 

He shivered and sniffed, reaching to rub his nose and then leaning into Tony’s arms. “We should do something,” he mumbled.

Tony hummed. “Like what?” He combed his fingers through Peter’s hair, still tranquilly watching the snowfall.

“Play a game?” he suggested. “I dunno.” He looked back out the window, his eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought. 

Peter’s eyes suddenly lit up and he broke from the man’s hold. “We can play Among Us! I’ll teach you!” He pulled his phone from his sweatshirt pocket, a wide grin on his face.

“Sounds like a plan.” Tony smiled fondly at him. They both hopped onto the couch. Peter unceremoniously grabbed Tony’s phone and tapped around on it.

“Whatcha doin’ kiddo?” Tony asked. Peter raised his eyebrows and hid the screen from him.

“You hafta download the game to play it,” he quipped.

“Aha.” Tony laughed and ruffled his hair. 

“Okay, so I’ll host a game and you can join,” Peter said. “I always do three imposters, ‘cause then you’re more likely to be one and it’s more fun.” “Okay.” Peter read off the code, and when Tony’s little red character appeared on his screen, he beamed. He turned the game to public and started dancing around Tony.

“Wait. Wait. Why is my name tonystank?!” 

Peter giggled. “Wasn’t me.” Though in fact, of course it had been him.

“Sure it wasn’t, bananaboy,” Tony teased, reading Peter’s character’s name off the screen. Peter snorted. 

“Hey, we’re Iron Man colors!” the boy realized suddenly.

Tony smiled. “Good. There’s no better combo.”

“Um, obviously the best colors are red and blue,” he declared in an exaggeratedly teasing tone. He bounced over to the menu and changed his color to dark blue. 

“How could you?” Tony gasped, clutching a hand to his chest in mock heartbreak. “I’m wounded, kiddo. Wounded.” Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, and Tony reached out to ruffle his hair. 

“Now we have to wait for people to come, though. It’s kinda boring.” Just a few seconds later, he let out a happy exclamation when someone joined, and Tony felt a familiar warmth bloom and spread through his chest. 

Peter curled up on the opposite side of the couch and clicked the start button once they had ten players. Tony tried to peek at his screen, but he giggled and pushed him away with his foot.

“Okay, wait, wait, what do I do?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where do I go?” 

“Oh!” Peter leaned over to look at his phone, always so adorably eager to help. “Okay, so you have a task in admin, so you wanna go over here. Oh, um, so this one’s easy, you click this-” he reached over to click the download button “-and then it downloads!”

“Got it.” He nodded seriously. “‘Kay, so what do I do here?” He showed the screen to his kid. 

“Oh, you just blast the asteroids out of the sky. I really like that one.”

After Peter walked him through a few more tasks and his initial confusion disappeared, Tony found himself enjoying the game immensely. 

When he got to electrical to do his tasks, he gasped. “There’s a body!”

“What?! Where?!” Peter’s chocolate eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Did you see anyone?!”

Tony hit the report button. “No, nobody was there!”

“Hmm.” Peter worried his lip. “I’m gonna skip voting.”

“Yeah, we probably don’t have enough evidence,” he agreed. “How do you skip?” 

“Uh, click the ‘skip vote’ button.” Peter strained to reach his phone. “And just hit the, um, the checkmark.” He leaned back, grinning, and scrolled through the chat. 

The voting results came in, and Peter smiled. “At least no one voted for us!” 

“What happens if you get a vote?” Tony asked, squeezing the boy’s foot.

“Well, if you get enough votes then you get ejected and then you get to be a ghost. I like being dead because you can go through walls.” He laughed at himself, his eyes still glued to his phone. “Once like everyone voted me out and it was really sad ‘cause I wasn’t even the imposter.”

Tony laughed and clicked his tongue. “Shame on them.”

Peter snorted. “It wasn’t their fault! I was standing right by the body.”

Tony smiled. “I have a task in... Medbay,” he said, squinting at his screen. “Jeez, this text is tiny.”

“Hey, me too! I’ll come with you!” He found Tony’s little bean character circling the medbay. “Hi!” Peter paused to tuck a curl behind his ear. 

“Hey there, Mister Parker.” Tony smiled. “Alrighty. I have to scan. Share your wisdom and knowledge, Petey?” 

“Just step on the scanner thing!” Peter instructed, watching him with his big bambi eyes.

“I’m three foot six?!” Tony exclaimed. “Wow. Are you sure they didn’t scan you by mistake?” 

Peter glared at him but he had to laugh. Mischief sparked in his eyes, but Tony didn’t seem to notice. 

“What task do you have, bud?” He found it a little odd that Peter had just been hovering by a bed; he hadn’t thought there was a task there.

Peter’s blue character bounced up to him. And then-

His phone flashed red, and bananaboy’s gloved hands snapped tonystank’s non-existent neck. (They were weird little bean creatures, they didn’t have necks.)

The screen turned black, and the three imposters appeared on the screen, illuminated by an ominous red glow. 

Tony’s eyes widened, and ever so slowly, he turned his head to face Peter, who was struggling to keep in his laughter. High-pitched giggles escaped from his mouth and he grabbed a pillow to protect himself. 

“It was you?!”

Peter shrieked as Tony’s arms wrapped around him and he was lifted into the man’s lap. His sock was yanked off and he screamed with laughter as Tony ran feather-light fingers down his bare foot. 

He squirmed around desperately, shrieking and giggling. Tony started tickling under the crook of his knee and he burst into peals of laughter, still trying to escape. “Tony, no no no, stahp, stahp!” he giggled. “‘M gonna pee!” 

Tony laughed and peppered delicate, barely-there kisses all over his face, his hold tight even as his kid thrashed around. He blew a raspberry on his squishy cheek, making Peter absolutely howl. Tony’s grin was so wide it hurt. 

Peter was laughing so hard he started having trouble breathing. He wheezed and struggled in his arms, still giggling. Tony’s fingers tickled under his armpit and he gave a wheezy cackle. He tried to squirm out of his arms, but the man caught him.

“Oh no you don’t, bananaboy!” Tony laughed. He caught the boy’s flailing limbs and let out a triumphant “Gotcha!” Tony scooped up his kid, pulling him into a warm hug and giving a sloppy kiss to his curls. Peter giggled happily, still recovering from the bombardment of tickles. 

Tony grabbed a fuzzy Star Wars themed blanket that had been slipping down the couch cushions and tucked around his kid. Peter sank against his chest, still weak from laughter.

Peter squirmed around, trying to get comfy, and grumbled when the blanket twisted around his legs. Tony helped him get untangled and then pressed his lips to his temple. 

When the boy finally got settled, it quickly became apparent that he was far too comfy to be going anywhere anytime soon, so Tony pulled the boy to his chest. They both watched the snowfall outside the window. Peter could hear both their heartbeats steadily slow.

Tony pressed another kiss to his temple. “FRI, queue up the next episode of Stark Trek for us, will you?”

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist under the cut:

@imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

#among us #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #tickling #tickles #snowfall #how do i tag #domestic fluff #fluff #platonic kisses #platonic cuddling #dad tony stark #tony stark is a dad #the best dad #brief mention of death #tw death #death tw #not st*rker #st*rkers dni

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 14 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

*****

Azriel shot a glare at Cassian as his brother raised an eyebrow and smirked at Azriel's arm around Gwyn's waist.

Drop it.

He put as much meaning into the glare as possible, Cassian relented, and Azriel rolled his eyes, but a part of him leapt for joy to see the color filling his face again, the light in his eyes, the fluidity of his movements. He couldn't help the half-smile when Cassian turned to the doorway behind him, and grinned, alive, he looked alive now.

Azriel followed Cassian's gaze to the doorway, ignoring the way his shadows were still dancing around Gwyn's feet, they hadn't stopped since they'd woken this morning, and with no sign of them ever stopping, Azriel had given up complaining. Feyre was grinning at him, with Rhys standing behind her, and Azriel raised an eyebrow,

"Nyx is asleep, and with Nuala." Rhys offered as an explanation, before dropping into the chair beside Azriel, with Feyre claiming the seat across from him, between Nesta and Emerie. Gwyn kept holding on to his hand even as the House provided breakfast, but he was forced to let go to eat, keeping half an eye on her even as he devoured the food in front of him, immediately clasping her hand again once he'd finished. Rhys glanced questioningly across at him, but there was nothing about Gwyn in his eyes, just the worry that had kept him, kept them all alive over the years. Azriel nodded, and rolled his shoulders, he was fine, hardly any pain at all, Madja's magic had all but done its work now. Rhys raised an eyebrow, but didn't object, passing his attention to Cassian, with a smile at Gwyn, which she gladly returned, and Azriel found himself mirroring her.

Still, that calmness that had crept over Gwyn faded the moment Emerie explained why she had really been so late to visit. Every rebel sympathizer in Windhaven had vanished, every last one. Even with Mor having sent his spies to confirm it before returning to the continent, Azriel winced visibly for not knowing, and Emerie shot him an apologetic look,

"When?"

"Three days ago." Three days, if he'd been here, if he'd been doing his damn job, they'd have known, would have been able to respond,

It's nothing we didn't expect, Rhys said into his mind at the same time that Gwyn squeezed his hand, And it's nothing that we weren't prepared for. His brother offered him a smile while Azriel grappled with the guilt threatening to rise again. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, no, he was here, and he would raise hell against anyone who threatened his family. When he opened his eyes, Rhys' smirk confirmed that there was nothing of the fear left in them, only the determination, the anger.

Whilst Emerie was explaining exactly what had happened, Cerridwen pushed open the door, and made her way silently across to him, handing him a report, from Illyria by the look of it. Azriel thanked her, and she vanished again, he skimmed the overview while the room fell silent, watching, waiting, and he sighed as he spoke,

"She's right. And it's not just Windhaven, it's all of Illyria. Just over a third of the males have disappeared, some of their families with them, some alone, but no idea where." That was his next move, to find them, wherever they had gone, gone or been taken, whichever it was. He hardly noticed his shadows stopping their dancing as he spoke, leaving his side entirely to hover around Gwyn, shrouding her in darkness, in safety. "I'm going to meet with some of my spies in a few hours, find out everything we know, and," he hesitated, preparing for the resistance to his next request, "It'd put my mind at ease if you'd get Gwyn a room in the River House, Rhys." Gwyn shot him a glare, but relented at the pleading look he offered, and Rhys nodded,

"If she wants it." Gwyn sighed, and nodded,

"It makes sense, it'll be easier to manage everything if we're all close together." Azriel hadn't realized how worried he'd been that she might refuse until she agreed, and he almost laughed at the joy that swept through him as she said 'we', she wanted to be a part of his family, she wouldn't shy away from that part of him. He planted a kiss on top of her head as he slipped away to head out to the meeting, not caring who might be watching, and left his shadows behind with her, all of them.

*****

Gwyn stared after Azriel even after he'd disappeared from view, hardly noticing the rest of the conversation until Nesta reached across the table to grasp Gwyn's hand,

"He'll be okay"

"I know. I just, I don't know," she shrugged, "I can't help it," Nesta chuckled softly,

"Tell me about it, that's the problem with these idiots isn't it?" Despite herself, Gwyn snorted, then burst out laughing at Rhysand's feigned offense when Feyre agreed. She couldn't completely banish her worry, but with her sisters there, with her friends there, she could push it aside, at least for now.

It didn't take long for Gwyn to be ready to move down to the River House, and she closed her eyes as Rhysand gently took her hand, preparing herself for the rush of wind as he winnowed them across Velaris. It didn't matter that she'd done it before, she still stumbled when they appeared in the garden, but caught herself before she could fall flat on her face,

"Alright?" She nodded, and made to speak, but the words died on her tongue when she locked eyes with someone else across the garden. It was a conscious effort not to reach for the missing necklace as Elain looked at her. Gwyn made to turn away, and thanked Rhysand for bringing her, but Elain shouted across the garden,

"Gwyneth! Wait!" Gwyn paused, and turned to face Elain, carefully controlling her gaze to avoid the glare that she wanted to fix her with, "I - I just wanted to apologize, I don't know what came over me, I just," she broke off, and reached for Gwyn's hands, gently squeezing them as she continued, "Seeing him with you, the way he was looking at you, I was jealous, it was stupid, and I had no right to be jealous, we never even had anything. It was just the way he was laughing and smiling with you, Cauldron, even his shadows love you, it just reminded me that I don't have that. I should never have taken it out on you. I regretted it instantly, I'm sorry, I wanted to apologize, but you'd already gone, then Az ran after you, and I just panicked. Nesta shouted at me afterwards, and I tried to find you, but by the time I got back you'd both gone, and I know we haven't really spoken much, but I don't want to leave it like this. I'm glad he has you, that you have him, and, if you can forgive me, I'd like to be your friend." Gwyn offered her a little smile,

"I'd like that." Elain beamed at her, and made to hug her, but froze, and Gwyn stepped towards her, "That's okay, I'm not fragile, I won't break."

"Oh, it's not that, I just wasn't sure if you would want me to touch you." Gwyn smiled again, and shook her head,

"Don't walk on eggshells around me, I don't want pity." Elain froze for a moment, then smiled, and laughed,

"Gods, no wonder you and Nesta get along so well. Thank you, for giving me a second chance."

"You made a mistake, just don't make the same one twice."

Rhysand was standing just inside, pretending he hadn't been listening, and Gwyn choked on a laugh,

"I spoke to Elain."

"Oh really?" He laughed, "I had no idea." Gwyn chuckled again,

"I assume there's a reason you're waiting for me?"

"Well I couldn't just leave you to wander around until you happened upon you room could I?" He gestured up the stairs, "Second on the left, and I don't want to leave you alone, there's nothing I can be doing until Az gets back, so if you don't want to be alone," he broke off when he noticed Gwyn staring into space, "Gwyn?" She started, and looked back across to him, "He's fine, I promise, not even I know where his meeting spots are." She nodded, then shook her head and laughed,

"I'll hold you to that, High Lord."

"High Lord? Oooof, that usually means I've royally fucked up."

"Not just yet." Gwyn chuckled and followed Rhys into a living room,

"While you're here, I wanted to ask you something." Gwyn nodded, "Azriel, is he actually okay? He regularly lies to me about his recovery from any injuries, and I assume you know?" Gwyn paused, trying to decide exactly what to tell him,

"He's not in much pain anymore, but, and I don't think he knows that I noticed, he still avoids twisting around, I think his ribs are a bit sore, but he is mostly alright." Rhys visibly relaxed,

"Thank you. I worry about him, we all do, I'm glad you found him."

"Found him?"

"I'm not blind, Gwyn." She shuffled on her chair, "He's happier than I've seen him in years, because of you."

"I'm not sure it's me,"

"It is you. And I don't want you, either of you, to think that you have to hide it from us, any of us, we won't push anything, but please, don't think you have to hide." Gwyn smiled, and pursed her lips,

"It's not that I'm worried about what you all might think, it's that I'm worried he might not want to be open about anything yet, it's only been a few days."

"A few days? Maybe since you admitted it, but it's been much longer than that." Longer? Perhaps it had been, she'd certainly been wanting to spend as much time as possible with him for a while now, and he'd never once complained, never shrunk away from her,

"He just understands me, that's all." Rhys chuckled again,

"He's never allowed any of us to know who he's been with before, I don't even know if he only likes females, or if he's also been with males." Gwyn chuckled,

"You have no idea?"

"None. But he never hid his feelings for you, he quite obviously made sure you were protected this morning, and I'll just say that he doesn't kiss me to say goodbye." Gwyn snorted with laughter at the image that sprung up in her mind,

"I'd say not." Gwyn's attention snapped across to the doorway, to a grinning Nesta,

"We're moving in too, makes life easier if we're close together at the moment."

*****

It took all of Azriel's self control not to fly back to Velaris at the first report, then even more at the second, and the third. Gone, the rebels were completely gone, not just from their camps, but from Illyria entirely. Velaris was safe, Velaris was safe, Rhys was actually there, there was no way the wards would fail whilst he was there. But Gwyn was there too, and she could be in danger, if an army of rebel Illyrians showed up even Gwyn would be at risk. He didn't need to rush back yet, not until he'd spoken to everyone.

Still, with each passing second, he found himself more and more tempted to gaze West, even if he couldn't see the city, let alone Gwyn from here, just to reassure himself that she wan't about to be attacked, to see that there was no airborne army heading fro the city. A familiar face appeared in the forest in front of him,

"The stars are bright tonight." She said, keeping her distance,

"They shine with the moon." She smiled the moment he finished speaking,

"I was worried that something had happened to you when Morrigan called us to meet,"

"It's a good job she doesn't know how the message system works, or she'd have tried to speak to you all individually." The female stepped towards him, and raised an eyebrow,

"Azriel."

"I'm fine, I was just, indisposed."

"That's a funny way of saying imprisoned by your asshole brother."

"It doesn't matter, you're here to tell me what everyone else could not."

"Keir has no idea that there's even been whisperings of rebellion in the mountains, if he had, you'd have the Darkbringers to contend with as well. As for where these 'rebels' might have gone, I'm afraid I have nothing, although it would be worthwhile to call reports from Hybern and the continent, perhaps they have gone there, or another Court."

"They're very unlikely to be at another Court, Helion would never allow it, nor would Thesan, Tarquin or Kallias, Beron might, but he sees Illyrians as lesser faeries, so I doubt it, and not even Tamlin is stupid enough to get involved in a war against us. Rhys is still mad at him for everything he did to Feyre, I don't think even she would be able to stop him if Tamlin ended up on the other side of a battlefield. But I will ask."

"You seem stressed."

"Oh really? What a surprise."

"You know what I mean. More than I would have expected, doesn't have anything to do with the priestess does it?"

"Don't you get involved too," Azriel groaned, "I already have Cassian grinning at me every time she and I are in the same room, and Rhys has caught on now, so Cauldron spare me if they get a chance to talk to her about whatever is between us."

"Can we expect to meet her at some point? I heard she helped you escape,"

"Helped is an understatement, she saved my life. Anyone she wants to meet will be up to her, but she may need to help me if this war kicks off like I'm expecting." Azriel tried to ignore the knowing smile, "I'm serious, Madelyn, don't get involved." Maddy snorted at his tone,

"Oh dear gods, you sound my father when I got home after my curfew." Azriel stiffened at the mention of Maddy's father, "Oh, stop it, go back to worrying about your girlfriend, and leave my miserable childhood out of it, although I must admit, it would be amusing to see his reaction to my life now, seventy-five, no husband, no children, I mean," she absentmindedly rubbed the ring on her left hand, "I suppose he ought to be pleased that I am married." Azriel smiled,

"Tell Josie I said hello, will you? And look after yourselves until I figure out exactly what our next move is." Maddy nodded, and waved before winnowing away. Azriel sighed as he noted the sun's position, just one more meeting, then he could get home.

*****

Gwyn closed her book with a sigh, the silence around her was broken only by her own breaths, and the sound of Azriel's shadows rootling through the bookshelves. She laughed out loud when they found a book and floated it across the air, dropping it into her lap before retreating to her shoulders to watch her read the title. Gwyn could have sworn that she sensed some sort of satisfaction, and amusement, but it wasn't fae, wasn't quite sentient either, it just sort of existed, a whisper next to her ear, but she couldn't quite make out the words,

"Is that you?" She demanded, reaching out for the shadows, and chuckled when they all shot for her left hand, "You remember that, huh? Don't scare me like that."

Or what?

Gwyn started at the distinct whisper, barely audible, but smirked at the offending shadow,

"Or I'll tell Azriel on you." She said, opening the book they'd brought her, ignoring the offended gasps from the shadows, at least until they took the book away from her, "Hey! I liked that book!" She couldn't make out their response, but from what she knew of them, it was probably for the best. She was still trying to get the book back when the front door opened, although she only noticed when Rhys called her name,

"Gwyn," he chuckled when she grabbed onto the book, immediately losing it as she lost concentration,

"That was your fault!"

"I'm sure, I thought you might like to meet Altheia, since you're here," Gwyn smiled softly at the Illyrian female stood behind Rhys, and her face lit up into a grin the moment Gwyn met her eyes. Gwyn had never met her before, but there was something familiar in her eyes, her smile,

"Just Theia, please, you're just as bad as the other two, Rhysie," Gwyn snorted at the nickname, and Theia smiled again, shoving Rhys out of the way, "I hear you've been looking after my Azzy, thank you." Her Azzy? Gwyn struggled for words, but Theia continued, "You're even more beautiful than his letters said."

"You're his Mom?" Theia nodded, and grinned,

"He wouldn't tell me much, but Rhysie mentioned a few things when he came to fetch me, apparently it's not safe any more, so thank you for looking after him, Cauldron knows he needs it sometimes."

"You're telling me," Gwyn muttered, and laughed when Theia collapsed into an armchair, twisting her wings carefully to avoiding sitting on them, "it's like he's trying to get himself killed sometimes."

"No matter what you or I say, he'll still be the idiot he's always been. Rhysie says that you've been training with Azzy and Cass, you revived the Valkyries?"

"Yes, and Nesta, Feyre's sister, Cassian's mate, she and Cass have moved down here as well, so I'm sure you'll meet her soon, and Emerie, from Windhaven. Nesta began training first, then she got us to join her, and we're starting to try to rebuild a proper Valkyrie unit. We're by no means experts, but we've done as much research as possible, and Cass actually fought alongside them! He's been helping us to replicate old Valkyrie training as best as possible, and Az has been teaching me how to move and fight silently, and-" Gwyn broke off as a book landed in her lap, the same book that the shadows had stolen earlier, "And these pains in the ass have adopted me." She froze as she realized that she'd been rambling, "Sorry, I talk a lot when I'm nervous,"

"You have no reason to be nervous, I'm thrilled to finally meet you. It's not every female that will will really see my son, and not be frightened off, I don't think he could frighten you off, I think you see beneath the frightening front he puts on."

"It's difficult not to when you've seen him in the morning. A while ago, there was some magic with the library that went wrong and attacked me, and he slept in a chair next to me all night. When I woke up in the morning, he was still there, and gods, his hair was ridiculous, I don't know what he did to deal with it, 'cause I failed miserably!" Theia nodded, and chuckled,

"You should see it every time he comes to visit me, even after he's tried to tidy it from the flight, it's always messy."

*****

Azriel sighed as he trudged up the steps to the River House, desperate to bathe and check that everyone was still alive, especially Gwyn. He froze when he heard her laugh floating down the corridor, and another's, that wasn't possible, she wasn't here. Azriel followed the sound, and almost laughed with joy at the sight of his mother sitting across from Gwyn, laughing about anything and everything,

"Hi, Mom."

"Azzy!" Theia shot to her feet, immediately throwing her arms around him, and tutted at the sight of his hair, trying to flatten it back down,

"Mom! I've been flying, it's fine." Gwyn just giggled,

"Dreadful, isn't he?"

"You just wait, sweetheart," wait for what? What were they planning? "Oh don't look so frightened, Azzy, we don't have any evil master plans. Yet," she added, grinning at Gwyn, but made to leave them to talk, lingering long enough to see Azriel pull Gwyn to her feet and embrace her,

"Nothing helpful." He muttered, letting out a sigh,

"At least we know where to start looking, there can't be any immediate threat, right?"

"Probably not, but it would be just my luck that there's a sneak attack on the city while i'm not here to watch your back." Gwyn pulled back just enough to meet his eyes,

"How would they manage that? In case you didn't notice, Rhys is in the city, those wards are not breaking."

"I know, I know, I just worry." Azriel's head snapped back to the door when Rhys appeared there, Cassian and Nesta on his heels,

"What is the big deal, Rhysand?" Nesta snapped, "We were about to go to bed, there'd better be a good reason you're keeping me from sleeping."

"Oh, there is. The mortal queens have declared war on the  Night Court."

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #Gwyn #Gwyn acosf #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #Azwyn #Azriel

[smile-hotch]

Red Dress - Aaron Hotchner

Hello and welcome to another Aaron work!  This is the first one I’ve done in a while, so enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse (ties to the victims)

word count: 1,844

Penelope Garcia, in a rush as always, walked into the conference room with an armful of files.  Her eyes danced along the table and a frown formed on her lips.  “Hello, my fine friends,” she greeted as she began to pass out files to each person.  As she came around to Aaron Hotchner, she paused.  “Sir, I can’t get (Y/N) on the phone.”

For a split second, Aaron’s eyes darted around the table.  “Debrief us and then Morgan and I will go to her house for a welfare check.”  His voice was cool but urgent as he looked back down at the file.  

Nodding quickly, Penelope put her back to the large screen in the room and held the remote up on her hand.  “Unfortunately, our little friend who kidnaps political figures is back,” she began and flashed the image of a dead woman in a police uniform.  “This is officer Sheryl Garrett.  She was reported missing a week ago today after not showing up for work and was found dead two hours ago in an alley two blocks from her house.  As you can see,” Penelope changed the picture, “there are lacerations on her neck and wrists, like the last two victims.”

“All of who were political figures?”  Derek Morgan asked as he set the pictures down.  

Penelope nodded vigorously.  “The first victim was Megan Shelly, as you may remember.”  She showed her pictures on the screen.  She was the founder of a non-profit organization serving victims of domestic abuse in the city.”

Jennifer Jareau pressed her lips together briefly.  “And she was taken two months ago?”

“Exactly two months ago from the time Sheryl Garrett was abducted.”  Aaron’s dark eyes didn’t bother looking up from the file.  

Spencer looked up.  “Perhaps our unsub has a particular disdain for those assisting victims of domestic abuse.” 

Penelope pointed to Spencer.  “Let me finish my speech before you get to the point.  The second victim was city councilwoman Sharon Rubel, who’s campaign focused greatly on punishing those convicted of domestic abuse and protecting the victims.  She was taken from her home exactly a month ago from the date of Officer Garrett’s abduction.  And Officer Garrett worked in the domestic abuse division of her precinct.”

David Ross hummed.  “And he is obviously spiraling.  His timeline is shortening, his cuts are becoming sloppier.  If we don’t catch him soon, there could be at a lot less domestic abuse activists in this city.”  His fingers flipped through the pages.

Penelope held up her hand, silencing her friends once more.  “The unsub also left a note for the first time in Officer Garrett’s house, as you can see here.”  She put the picture on the television.

It is only going to get bigger.

“Bigger?”  Derek scoffed.  “Does that mean he is going to go after a congresswoman, maybe?”

JJ, her face paling slightly, looked up at the rest of his team.  “I hate to even speculate this, but wasn’t (Y/N) an attorney that only worked with domestic abuse victims?”

Abruptly, Aaron stood and closed his file.  “JJ and Rossi, go to the precinct and see if there have been any disgruntled offenders.  Reid, you and Prentiss need to go to the dumpsite.  Penelope, keep calling (Y/N) and pull the cases she worked on in .  Look to see if any of the offenders were released from jail shortly before the first murder, and cross reference the last victim’s cases with (Y/N)’s.  Morgan, you’re with me.”  With that, the team dispersed.  Aaron marched off towards his office with Derek on his heels.  

“Should I get (Y/N)’s address from Garcia?”  Derek questioned as he followed Aaron into his office, where he took the gun from his desk and holstered it on his ankle.  

He grabbed the car keys for one of the bureau's cars off his desk and walked by Derek.  “You don’t need to.”

The ride to your house was achingly stiff.  Derek tried to talk possible motives with Aaron regarding the case at hand, but all conversation was quick and stern.  “With all due respect, sir, what’s going on with you?”  Derek asked as they pulled up outside your house.

Aaron leaped from the car without answering Derek and began towards the door without waiting.  Shaking his head, Derek rushed to catch up with Aaron.  Without hesitating, Aaron reached for the front door handle, and it opened with ease.  “Not locked?”  Derek asked as Aaron glanced in the house.

He shook his head.  “That’s not like her,” he muttered and pulled his gun from holster before pushing the door open more with his foot.  Immediately, as they entered your living room, Aaron cursed loudly.  In black paint, across the painting you did of the farm you grew up on as a child, was “IT IS ONLY GETTING BIGGER” in messy, scrawled handwriting.  

“I’m calling backup,” Derek said as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  Aaron frantically searched the house for any sign of you, but there was none.  He came back down the stairs of your home, spotting Derek in the kitchen, looking closely at your back door, leading to your backyard.  “I think he was waiting for her last night, after work.”

Aaron’s face paled as he looked at the back door as well, where the scratch marks on the trim indicated someone breaking in.  “It had to be later that night,” Aaron finally said to Derek as he looked away.  

Crossing his arms, Derek narrowed his eyes.  “If there is something you know, you need to tell me.” 

Aaron felt a burst of anger in his head.  He wanted to throw, destroy something, anything.  “(Y/N) was with me last night.  He had to be waiting for her after I dropped her off shortly after ten o’clock last night.”  

Derek raised his eyebrows.  Normally, he would hound Aaron about this information, but he couldn’t.  Not when you weren’t there to face it as well.  “What was she wearing last night so I can have law enforcement put an APB out?”  

A slight blush formed on Aaron’s face at the thought of it.  “A sleeveless red silk dress and black heels.” 

Again, Derek raised his eyebrows.  “Damn.”  He walked away, putting the phone to his ear.  Aaron turned away, walking through the house as he, too, started calling people.  

As he wandered into the living room once more, he avoided looking at the ruined painting above the fireplace.  “Hotch?  Did you find (Y/N)?”  Rossi’s voice flooded through the phone immediately.

“He has her,” he answered stiffly as his eyes landed on one of his own ties laying across the back of one of your antique chairs.  He picked it up, running his thumb along it, and pressed his lips together.  “Have you found anything at the precinct?”  

Rossi fell silent for a moment.  “We’ll find her, Aaron.  You know we will.”  The silence that met his words made Rossi sigh.  “Truthfully, it seems almost all offenders are disgruntled on out latest victim’s end.  I’ve sent the particularly violent ones to Garcia to cross examine.”  

“Let me know if you find anything,” Aaron told him and hung up the phone without another word.  

Aaron felt guilty, for leaving her on her own the night before.  He knew that there was no way for him to predict that this would happen, but still felt at fault for it.  However, the guilt was nothing compared to the anger he felt for anyone daring to hurt you.  

~.~

It took two more days before JJ discovered a break in the case that led the team to the unsub.  You were gone for three whole days, and there was always the biting thought in the back of everyone’s mind that you were long passed alive and not even with them anymore, but they still had to find you, in whatever capacity that may be.  

The unsub failed to hear the team enter his home, as he was sleeping soundly on the couch, and Derek Morgan flipped him off to the ground incredibly hard and cuffed him as the others searched for you.  JJ and Spencer searched the large yard and shed behind the large, Victorian style home, while Emily, Aaron, and Rossi began to tear the house apart.  Local law enforcement took the man into custody and dragged from the home as he shouted and screamed about the unfairness in the judicial system and the rats that cared about the victims of domestic abuse. 

Aaron anger built up as he tore down the steps of the house, into the basement.  A door at the end of the room had a single lock on the outside of it, and without hesitating, Aaron kicked the flimsy door in.  

The lights in the room were an odd shade of red, and there you were, tied to a chair in the middle of the room.  “I’ve got her,” Aaron shouted up the house.

With your arms tied behind your back and legs tied together at the knees and ankles both, you were completely unable to move.  There was a gag in your mouth, tied around your head and stained with a mixture of blood and tears.  You still wore your red dress, which now had a tear up the side and blood along the top, but still looked beautiful to Aaron.  

With wide, pleading eyes, you whined into the cloth as Aaron quickly fell to his knees in front of you and began carefully cutting the rope around your knees and ankles.  “(Y/N), are you hurt?”  He asked as your legs were free, and he untied the cloth from around your head.

With a busted bottom lip and a thin cut across your cheek, you shook your head.  “Just a few bumps and cuts, is all.”  Your voice was gravelly and sounded dry.  “I could really use a drink.”

Aaron chuckled as he cut your hands free, and you rubbed your wrists immediately.  “You had me so worried,” he mumbled as he stood, holding a hand out to you. 

Your black heels felt taller than ever as you tried to stand.  Stumbling, Aaron caught you and quickly frowned.  “Ah, haven’t walked in a minute,” you explained and held onto his arm tightly.  As you straightened and stretched your legs, Aaron watched you closely.  “I wasn’t worried.”  Aaron furrowed his eyebrows.  “I knew you’d find me, Aaron.” 

Slowly, you stood on your toes, even in your heels, and kissed him so gently.  You ignored the pain of your busted lip as you grabbed his shoulders, steadying you further. 

Carefully, Aaron pulled you against him, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.  After a moment, you both pulled away with red faces.  Law enforcement rushed down the stairs at that point, and you moved your hands to his arm once more.  “Take me home, please.  I can’t wait to get out of this dress.” 

Aaron, fighting the smirk on his lips, spoke quietly to her.  “I quite like you in it, actually.”

#aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds preference #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 6

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

They sat for a long moment in silence. Suddenly, it was like words were coming from somewhere deep in her gut, pressing their way upwards, and into her mouth; and then she let them out.

“I never had a brother or a sister, and my family… They weren’t really around. Keeping up appearances was more important than love”, she said. “Jackson found me puking my guts out after chugging a case of wine-coolers at an SOA party I’d snuck in to. I was 15, but I’d lied about my age. He cleaned me up, and let me sleep on his couch, when my folks wouldn’t let me back into the house that night. After that, I hung around the clubhouse; kind of like Letty, I guess. They all treated me like a little sister; and Jax… He was my champion. I was pretty much a waste of space to the people around me, until I met him. Every time I screwed up… Like one time I got arrested for stealing a pregnancy-test; after a close call with some asshole I’d met. You’re better than this, darlin’…”. She smiled softly. “He got the sheriff to let me off with a warning. Then we went and got ice-cream, before he took me for a proper test at the clinic… And then he had the club throw me a no-baby-on-the-way shower…”. Angel chuckled at this. “You were really close”, he said. Nina’s smile widened. “Jax set me up at the clubhouse dorm, when I left home. He made sure I had money to pay tuition for community college. He taught me that family can be more than blood; even openly called me his little sister, whenever he introduced me to anyone. So, yeah. I loved him; and after he had his boys, I loved them… Because of him, I belonged somewhere. When he died, I was a wreck. If it hadn’t been for Filip… Chibs and the rest of the Sons, I’d have been… I don’t even want to think about it”. “They got you right again”, Angel said. She nodded. “We got each other right…”.

He took her hand, and softly stroked his fingers over the bruises on her knuckles. “So, what happened with Gael?”, he said. A shudder went down her spine, but the words were already forming in her mouth, and she couldn’t hold them back. “It was the anniversary of Jax’s… the day he died”, She said. “I was at a party; not a club party, just out with some people I knew. I didn’t let the club know I was going out; I just wanted to be someone else for the night, you know? Not the great legend’s little sister… I just heard from his kids. His eldest got an A on a book-report, and I was so pissed, because Jax wasn’t there to see that. Because he… fucking killed himself, ‘cuz he couldn’t see a different way out”. She closed her eyes, and chewed her lips. Angel gently squeezed her hand. “I was drunk – like really drunk – and I needed to get home. My friend offered to call Chibs or Happy for me, but I couldn’t deal with anyone from the club right then. I’d been dancing with this guy, and he offered me a ride”. “And you took it”, Angel muttered. “Yeah”, Nina whispered. “But I shouldn’t have”. There was another long pause. “Do you wanna stop?”, Angel said. “No…”. Nina shook her head. She couldn’t stop now; it was like a giant bubble of bile she had to get out of system. She pulled her hand out of Angel’s, and put her arms around her knees, staring straight ahead of her.

“Gael was taking all the wrong turns, to get back to my apartment. I asked him to stop, and he pulled up in an alley, to let me get out of his car. I was gonna walk home, but he got out after me”. Come on, baby. You gotta follow through now… Let me get that fine crow-eater ass… “He knew who I was. I don’t know who told him, but he figured it out somehow. Pressed me up against the wall…”. What would Teller say, if he knew I was about to fuck his little sister? “He was talking about how the club would react, when they found out… I panicked, and I fought like hell… He let go of me, and I grabbed my gun from my purse; I guess that’s when I dropped my inhaler… When I aimed at him, he just laughed”. Angel was tense. He seemed like he wanted to punch his fist through something. Nina looked down. “He kept saying; you’re not gonna shoot me… Then he came at me… and I pulled the trigger”. It was like she heard the sound of the gunshot again, and she let out a deep breath. She’d never seen a dead body before.

“Good”, Angel said finally. Nina was pulled out of something like a trance, and looked at him. “What?”. “He’s dead. He deserved it”. There wasn’t a hint of sympathy in his voice. “You don’t get it… It was my own fault”, Nina said. “No one made me get that drunk; I wasn’t drugged or held at gunpoint. I got in that car willingly. I fucked up, and a guy died… I killed him”. “He was trying to…”. Angel didn’t seem to be able to finish his sentence. “Angel, he wasn’t the first guy to try to get with me, without me wanting him to. That’s just… Fuck, that happens every fucking day to so many women… It was because he wanted to screw with SAMCRO… screw with my dead brother… It triggered something in me”. “That don’t matter!”, Angel growled. “You don’t touch a woman without her permission!”. He seemed about to explode, and looked at her angrily. “You telling me, that you normally get attacked in the back of dark alleys?”. “No… that never happened before”, she whispered. “He hurt you, and you fucking killed his ass; and that’s good. He didn’t deserve to walk away from that”.

Nina turned, and put her feet on the floor; sitting there for a moment, before getting up, and walking towards the living room. She picked up a half-smoked cigarette, and lit it; taking a deep draw. Angel had followed her, and when she turned around he stood in front of her, looking defeated and miserable. “Nina, I am so sorry”, he said. “I’m sorry I made you think I only wanted you because of your club”. Nina stepped towards him, and put a hand on his chest. “No, I know it’s not like that with you”, she said quietly. “No but you thought it was”. “Angel… you're different”, Nina tried. She went to take his hand, but he stepped back; creating distance between them. “After that… What he tried to do…”. Angel ran a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I don’t know how to touch you, without bringing that shit up in you again”.

Nina felt his words like a bucket of cold water in her face. “You… You wanna end this…”, she croaked. She stubbed out the cigarette, and scrambled to get back to the bedroom to find her shorts; fighting tears all the way. “I get it. It’s fine. Could you just take me back to the yard?”. Angel almost ran after her, and pulled her into his arms. “No, querida… No!”, he said. “I’m sorry… It’s just… What if I do something, that makes you think I’m like him?”. Nina looked up at him with disbelief. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”, she said. Angel frowned in confusion. “You’re nothing like him. How you’ve been trying to help me by talking, and how you took care of me yesterday… You’re a… you’re an angel… Angel”. A smile tugged at her lips. Angel chuckled, and grasped her face; pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re doing it again”, he said. “What?”, Nina asked. “Making me feel better, when it should be the other way around”. She buried her face in his warm chest. “You’ve made me smile more since I arrived here, than I have in years”.

Angel put his hands on either side of her face, and made her look up at him again. He starred deep into her eyes; searing his way into her very being. Leaning down, his lips grasped hers, as if inhaling her, body and soul. Pulling back – leaving Nina short of breath, and weak in the knees – he wrapped a strong arm under her bottom, and lifted her to straddle his waist. Her weight was nothing compared to what he wanted at that moment, and he carried her back into the bedroom; setting her gently down on the mattress. As she lifted her arms, Angel gently pulled the t-shirt off her body, before – with a hand behind her back – making her lay down under him. He pulled off her panties, and settled with his head between her thighs. Nina gasped, as his breath brushed over her folds, like a feather-stroke. “Angel, you don’t have to…”, Nina rasped. “Mami, I wanna make you smile again”, Angel replied. “Say you want me to”. His words came like an overwhelming caress. He wanted her to be completely at ease and in agreement of what he wanted to do. Nina let out a short breath, and her answer came as a rasping plea. “Yes”. Angel smirked, and placed his open lips over her warmth.

Nina’s back instantly arched. Her heart beat a million miles an hour; and only the pain in her hand from the day before kept her from digging her fingers so far into the sheets, that they ripped. Angel made long, languid strokes up and down her folds with his tongue, while running his fingertips up and down her torso. He let out what sounded like a growl against her lower lips, before sucking her clit into his mouth, and flicking his tongue over it. Nina felt her legs beginning to shake at the treatment of her most sensitive spot, and let out a desperate whimper. Angel lifted his head to come up for air, and breathed deeply for a few seconds; before – with a wry smile at her – diving back in. He moved his hands down, to put his arms around her thighs; keeping her in place, as she tried to pull away from the overwhelming sensation of his mouth. “Nah, you’re not going anywhere”, he chuckled, and took another long lick up her folds, ending up in a deep suckle of her clit. The sound of the birds outside mixed with the slick sound of Angel devouring her, and Nina soon felt a wave of earthshattering pleasure roll through her whole body. As the coil in her lower belly finally snapped, Nina lifted her head and shoulders from the bed, and cried out a breathy moan; before she fell back, with her arms spread out to the sides.

Angel made a last soft lick over her warmth, and loosened his grip on her thighs. He wiped his beard of her juices, and smirked. “How was that?”, he said. Nina looked at him in disbelief, when suddenly she began laughing. She simply couldn’t hold back. Her laughter came like bursts from inside her, that simply wouldn’t stop. Angel’s smirk became a warm smile, as he crawled up to settle next to her. He cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. “Holy… shit…”, Nina laughed between kisses. “Yeah?”, Angel smiled. “Just wait. Next time I’ll add fingers!”. He wiggled his fingers over her face, and winked at her, before attacking her mouth with kisses again. “Angel…?”, she breathed. “Yeah?”. “I think you earned the title of croweater”, she giggled. He pulled back and looked ponderingly at her. “I should get a patch…”.

---

After a while of laying in each other’s arms, they got dressed. Nina would have gladly reciprocated Angel’s pleasant treatment of her, but a phone call from Coco cut their morning together short; as he needed help with moving some goods. Nina decided against asking. When they arrived at the yard, Angel took his time to claim a deep, almost bruising kiss from her lips. “Audience…”, she chuckled embarrassedly, when she noticed Bishop, Taza and Hank looking at them from the porch. “Yeah. Audience”, Hank grunted, unable to hide his smile. Bishop rolled his eyes, but let a smile ghost his face as well. “Sorry, Bish”, Angel called out; before leaning in, and suckling for a moment at her pulse-point. “I’m not sorry”, he whispered, and squeezed her butt cheek. “You’re a horny little shit”, Nina said. “We both know there ain’t nothing little about me, querida”, Angel gloated. Nina smiled, and went to get some coffee in the clubhouse. Angel tapped her butt teasingly, as she walked away from him.

Bishop followed her inside, and went ahead of her behind the bar; pouring a mug of coffee, and handing it to her. “I know, I said you were welcome to the facilities here, but you’re taking it a bit far”, he said with a wry smile. “But they’re such good facilities”, Nina said, and took a sip from the mug. “And I thought you said I was family”. The president shook his head defeatedly, and went to grab a piece of paper. “Well, mija; family means taking on your share of the work”, he said, and handed her the note. “Shopping-list for the party. Ask the prospect to take you. We’re gonna need meat from his old man”. “On it”, Nina said, and looked over the list. Liquor, food and snacks. It looked like any list Tig might have handed her in Charming, with the addition of needing to go to a local smoke-shop to pick up some Acapulco Gold. SAMCRO grew their own weed. “No cigars?”, she asked. “We’re trying to be polite to the Vatos. Not spoil them…”, Bishop said, before shrugging. “But get me a box of Montecristos”. Nina smiled, and nodded.

EZ entered the clubhouse with what looked like pink chapstick on his cheek, and carrying yet another delicious smelling box of Tupperware. Bishop looked at him for a long moment. “You got a little something”, he said, and gestured to his cheek. EZ looked at his reflection in a decorative mirror by the liquor-bottles. “Shit… Yeah, Gabby…”, he began. Bishop held up his hands. “Don’t… This place is like puppy-love central this morning”, he said. “Just… go do your jobs”. He went into templo, and closed the door behind him. Nina bit her lips to keep from laughing at the prospect. “Ha, ha”, he laughed sarcastically. “You’re one to talk”. He pointed at Nina’s neck. She went to look in the mirror, and saw that Angel had left an angry hickey bellow her ear. “Goddammit, Angel!”, she growled. EZ chuckled at her, and went to get ready for breakfast.

It had become a nice tradition for them to begin the day eating breakfast together. Nina enjoyed spending time with EZ, and could see why Angel called him golden boy. Ezekiel was smart, and somehow managed to have picked his life back together, at least somewhat, after his stint in prison. After breakfast, they got into the scrapyard van, and went to get things together for the party the next day.

---

Going shopping for the party, and running errands with EZ for the club was a welcome distraction for Nina. Keeping her mind occupied was all that kept her from freezing in terror at the fact that the next day, she’d be in the presence of a mad-man, who wanted her dead. On top of that, she was facing at least a year in Santo Padre; away from her family – away from home. Angel or no Angel, that was still a tough pill to swallow.

Lunch was spent in front of Felipe’s shop. Nina smiled her way through a few stories about his sons’ escapades as kids, and – just as she had with his sons – Nina was beginning to grow warm emotions towards the man; in spite of only meeting him twice.

“You’re smart”, Felipe said, as EZ and Gabriella went inside to do the dishes. Nina was surprised at the sudden statement. “That’s… nice of you to say”, she smiled. “No, it’s a fact. You’re intelligent; it seems like you have every opportunity to make something of yourself, other than…”. He halted himself. Nina held her tongue for a moment, before speaking again. “You think I could do better, than spend my time around bikers”, she said. Felipe met her eyes. “It’s not my place”, he said. “You’re just being honest about your opinions. That’s ok”, she said. “But maybe slightly insulting”, Felipe said. “And for that, I’m sorry”.

Nina took a sip of her coffee, and rested her chin on her hand. “It would be insulting, if I thought you might be right about the life”, she said. Felipe chuckled to himself, and took a sip from his own cup. “The life”, he said. “Whatever you want to call it… The club… the gang. You think that it’s wrong. That the way the club works is something bad. If I agreed, you would be insulting me, by suggesting that I was settling for something less than…”. She bit her lip, and looked meaningfully at Felipe. “But to me it’s… right. I haven’t had a lot of family in my life; but the club here… the club where I come from… They’re family. They’ve taken care of me, been everything to me that I needed to become the… intelligent woman you see before you today. I wouldn’t be who I am without them”. “I would have hoped the family I provided for my boys was enough. That they wouldn’t have needed to find something else”, Felipe said. “I’m sure it is. But the club gives them something on top of that”. “And the crime? The blood…?”, the old man said. Nina looked down at her bruised hand. “That I can’t defend”, she said.

Felipe studied her face intently, as she took another sip of her coffee. “Like I said; you’re smart. I’m happy my son has you in his life”. Nina almost choked on her coffee. “Excuse me?”, she croaked. Felipe chuckled at her. “I watched you, while I told you those stories earlier”, he said. “When I spoke about EZ, you listened and smiled. Whenever I mentioned Angel, your face lit up like a candle. I might be old, but I’m not blind”. He grabbed her hand over the table, and squeezed it gently. “And then there’s his trademark on your neck”. Nina let out a guffawing laughter, and covered her hickey with her free hand.

EZ came outside then, and frowned at his father and Nina. “Please tell me you didn’t tell her the story about the petting-zoo, pap’”, he said. Felipe’s eyes lit up. “Oh, right! The petting-zoo… Let me tell you Nina. This boy is terrified of goats!”. “Ok. Time to go!”, EZ said, and pulled at Nina’s arm. “But I want to hear this!”, Nina said. “No goat-stories”, the prospect laughed, and led her towards the truck. “Pap’; the ribs?”. “And the steaks. I’ll bring them by tomorrow afternoon”, Felipe said.

Nina got in the passenger seat, and smiled to herself. EZ looked confusedly at her, as he got behind the wheel. “What’s so funny?”, he asked. “Nothing… I like your dad”, Nina replied. “He’s honest”. The prospect let out a slight laugh. “Some would say brutally so”. “He called me smart”, Nina said. EZ started the truck. “He’s kind of right”, he smiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, Nina scoffed. EZ turned onto the road, and took a moment to wave at his pap, before speaking again. “Well, you are sleeping with my brother”.

---

Nina sat in the doorway to the trailer, enjoying the sun a cold coke, and pretending to read a book; while smirking at EZ, as he unloaded the groceries and liquor from the truck. “It sure is hot out here”, she said. “How’s your shoulder?”. “You punch like an MMA-fighter!”, EZ groaned, and rubbed the spot where she’d punched him earlier. “That’s what you get… You dropped something”, she replied, and pointed at a bag of chips on the ground. EZ gave her a sarcastic smile, and bent down to get the bag, and put it on top of his load. “Thank you, Nina”, he said. “You’re welcome, Ezekiel”, she replied with a grin.

“Nina!”. Chucky came running up to her. He was holding out a phone. “It’s Charming!”, he grinned. “For you!”. Nina almost tripped over her own feet, to run over to him, and take the call. Handing him her book, she grabbed the phone out of his wooden hand. Chucky slipped away again. “Hello?”, she panted. “Did I catch you in something unseemely, luv’?”. “Filip! How is… everything?”, she said. “Everything is boring as fuck, without you here”. Nina smiled, and waved at Angel, who came rolling on to the lot with Gilly in tow. Coco came in behind them in his car. “Aw… Are you guys missing me?”, she said. Angel got off his bike and moved towards her. She held up a finger for him to wait; but he waved away her hand dismissively, and leaned in to kiss her. “I’m talking”, Nina chided with a smile. “So?”, Angel said, and moved down to kiss her neck; wrapping his arms around her. “Yes, we miss you like the flower misses the sun, little sister. Do you miss us, is the question…?”. Nina was wriggling in Angel’s grasp. “Of course I miss you”. Angel pulled back a bit, before moving over to lean against the trailer, lighting a cigarette. “Did you hear from Wendy?”. “Thomas is taping playing cards to his bike, to make it sound like a Harley”, Filip replied. “They’re good”. “Good. I’m happy”, Nina smiled softly. She looked over her shoulder at Angel, who was pretending not to listen in. “So, is this a curtesy-call? Checking up on me?”. “Not exactly… We were thinking it might be time to bring you back… The cops have finished their investigation. Deemed it a cold case. You’re in the clear”. Nina could hear the lie in his voice.

She went to sit down in the doorway again. “You want me back up north”. Angel looked out the corner of his eye at her, his expression somber. “We want you home, Nina… None of the girls here knows how to make a proper whiskey sour”. She chewed her lips. “No. You want me back home, because Palo is moving south… Chibs… I know”, she said. “Know what?”, Filip said. “The man I… He was El Palo’s cousin”. She heard the Scot sigh deeply at the other end. “We didn’t want to scare you”. “I had a right to know… You shouldn’t have lied”, she said. She heard the telltale sound of Filip closing the large door of church behind him. “You may be right… But now you see why you should come back”. Nina looked up at Angel again. “I can’t do that. Not now…”. The thought of going back on her deal with the Mayans, and the thought of leaving behind Angel, was just too much. “It’s better I hide here, in plain sight”. “What do you mean?”. “Palo is coming here… He’s asking Santo Padre for help in finding me. He doesn’t know who I am, and he’d never think they’d keep me out here in the open”. Something crashed at the other end, like a beer bottle against a wall. “What the fuck is Bishop playing at? Is he insane?”. “No… The club here… They have my back. I trust them”. “Put Bishop on!”. Filip was almost roaring in rage. “He’s not here…”, Nina croaked. “Filip, I’m…”. “Put someone on. Anyone!”.

Nina looked at Angel, and handed him the phone. The Mayan clenched his jaw, and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah… No, that was a club call… We’re not going back on anything. Our deal stands… Yeah…”. He frowned, and Nina saw anger rising in his expression. “Fuck, no; man! You let that shit happen to her. I’m not gonna let you take my girl, and…”. Nina got up, and reached for the phone. “Angel, stop… Please”. Angel pulled away from her hand, and she grabbed at his cut. “Please…”, she whispered. His expression softened as he met her eyes. Filip said something on the other end. “I hear you… Yeah… Look, you got my word, man. She’s safe. I won’t let anything happen to her… Yeah, I’ll let Bish know”. A deep scowl settled on his face. “Yeah, she’s here".

Angel handed back the phone to Nina. “Filip?”. There was a long silence. “Are you there?”. “You tapping a Mayan, now?”. Nina swallowed hard. “Look, I’m…”. “No, luv’… It’s your life… Couldn’t you have chosen a smarter one, though?”. Nina laughed a little, and looked up at Angel. “He’s… got a cool bike”, she said. Angel looked adorably confused at her words. “Huh… Well, make sure you get tested!”. “Filip!”, Nina cried out. “Look, we’re coming down. Had planned on it anyway, to come get you. I already told Romeo there we’ll be in San Pad tomorrow”. Nina felt her heart leap at the prospect of seeing her family. “Ok…”, she breathed with a half-smile. “I’ll see you then”. “Anything other than your impending herpes I need to relay to the boys?”. Nina rolled her eyes. “Tell them, they’re all dicks; but I love them”. They said goodbye, and Nina hung up the call.

Angel stomped out his cigarette. “Mayans… Vatos… SAMCRO…”, he said. “It’s gonna be a big fucking party!”. He began moving towards the clubhouse porch, where Gilly was waiting. Coco was sitting on the trunk of his car, smoking a cigarette and looking antsy. “What did he say to you?”, Nina asked. “They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. I gotta go tell Bishop”, he said, his voice brusque. “What’s wrong?”, she asked. “Tell me…!”. “It’s just some shit…”, he said over his shoulder. Nina ran after him, and grabbed his wrist. “Angel… What happened?”. Angel stopped, and turned to face her again. His expression was dark, but he tried to smile at her. “It’s nothing. Really”. He leaned down, and gave her a soft kiss. “I gotta go find Bishop. Give him word on the extra guests”. “Ok…”, Nina said, still uneasy at his behavior. “Are you going out again after?”. “Yeah. I need to make a run over the border with that stuff Coco had us go get”, Angel replied. “Do I want to know?”. There was a loud thud from Coco’s trunk. The slight biker pounded his fist down on the boot lid. “Yo, shut the fuck up!”, he growled. Angel shrugged. “No, I don’t think so”.

Nina stormed over to the car, and pushed Coco out of the way. Before he could stop her, she’d yanked the lid open, and looked down at the man from the day before. “What the…”, she gasped. The man was half naked, hogtied with duct-tape; and a burlap sack with what sounded like a very angry rattle-snake was lying next to him. “What are you going to do with him?”. Coco took a huff of his smoke. “We got a doc down south. He don’t need both his kidneys anyway…”, he said, and spat at the ground. “He’s lucky we didn’t go for castración”. The man screamed through his tape-muzzle. Coco punched him over his broken nose. “I might still change my mind”. Nina slammed the lid shut. “You’re right. I didn’t want to know”. All three bikers laughed.

“What was the phone call about?”, Gilly asked from the porch. “We got reaper incoming tomorrow”, Angel said. Coco’s eyes widened. “It’s gonna be a big fucking party!”, he smiled. “That’s what I said. Sometimes I think we share a brain, mano”, Angel said. Nina bit her cheek to keep from laughing in agreement. “I gotta go tell el jefe. Then we can go”. Coco and Gilly nodded, and Angel went into the clubhouse to find the president. “I’ll have the prospect bring you by mine once he finishes, yeah?”, he called over his shoulder. “That’s sweet. Are we having a sleepover?”, Gilly asked. “Shut up”, Angel replied, and winked at Nina, before closing the door behind him.

---

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes smut #clayton cardenas #mayans mc fic #ez reyes #coco cruz #chibs telford #sons of anarchy

[jungkooks-left-tiddie]

I think I’m in love | knj.

Summary: Your new internship sucked ass. It was fun, but exhausting at the same time. It also didn’t help that uni was also stressing you out. Amidst all this pressure and stress, perhaps a midnight walk on the Han River with your crush Kim Namjoon is what you needed all along. A/N: so I saw this namjoon picture circulating around stan twitter and my 3am sleep deprived ass decided to write a Drabble. 1 hour and 2k words later, here we are.

Words: 2k (maybe more idk I didn’t count)

Warnings: grammar issues, 4am writing

Song rec: I think I’m in love (kat dahlia)

———————————————————————————

“You’ve never been to the Han River at night?” Screams of outrage filled the silent room as you shook your head.

“I’ve never had the need to,” You frowned, feeling a little lost. “Plus it’s not like my parents would have let me.”

“Have you ever heard of something called sneaking out?” Jimin continued berating you and you couldn’t help but feel a little upset.

“Look, I know it may seem like Jimin-hyung is overreacting, but he’s not.” Jungkook clarified and made you feel even worse. “Han River is amazing at night.” The 3 boys nodded as if it were a common fact.

“You guys aren’t making this any better, y’know.” You frowned yet again.

They continued describing how mesmerising the river looked at night and you could do nothing but frown and continue doing your work.

Unbeknownst to you, Kim Namjoon kept sneaking glances at you from where he was seated. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle and that got on Yoongi’s nerves.

“Just ask them out, for fucks sake.” Yoongi massaged his eyes as Seokjin and Hoseok tried not to laugh.

“What do you mean?” Namjoon pretended to not know what Yoongi’s words meant and noted down a few more points for his assignment.

“Please tell me Namjoon did not just ask that,” Yoongi took a deep breath before proceeding, “Look, we all know that you have the most obvious crush on (Y/N) so just go and confess ok?”

It was true. Ever since you’d moved into the flat right opposite to his, Namjoon’s been talking about you non-stop.

But he continued to pretend like he didn’t hear Yoongi.

Seokjin and Hoseok, who were tired of their constant bickering and Namjoon’s denial, decided to take matters into their own hands.

“Yoongi’s right Joon,” Seokjin shared a mischievous glance with Hoseok before continuing, “If you don’t do anything, we will.” He declared, standing up and making his way to where you were sitting with Hoseok following in suit.

Namjoon started panicking even more when Yoongi decided to join Jin and Hobi as well, because he knew; oh he knew that they would not hold back. So he quickly ran after them and tried to convince them to back out.

“Guys, come on!” He begged, “I promise I will ask them out one day, but please please don’t do anything now,” It was too late now. Taehyung had spotted the lot of them walking up to your table.

“(Y/N), look!” You winced as Jungkook elbowed you harshly.

“What, dumbass--”  Kim Namjoon was standing in front of you.

For a moment, you felt your entire surroundings become a blur and you could only see Kim Namjoon in all his 6ft glory. And as soon as it came, it was gone because you had to remind yourself that people were watching.

“Jin-hyung! What’s up?” Jungkook hits the other man’s arm in greeting.

“Stop hitting me, punk,” They started doing their own thing again, forcing Hoseok to take over.

“We heard you guys talk something about rivers and we were bored so we decided to join lmao,” Hoseok dragged one of the chairs from a nearby table and slumped.

“Damn, I didn’t realise we were that loud,” Tae rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“It was necessary though! I mean it's not everyday we come to know that our best friend never visited the Han River at night,” All eyes were on you after Jimin’s statement.

“Wait (Y/N) really?” You nodded reluctantly. “I lived pretty far away plus I had strict parents so…” You hoped they would drop the topic here, and were extremely thankful when they did.

“Well, I'm sure you’ll have plenty more opportunities to visit. So don’t worry!” Seokjin cheered you up a little.

Your phone started ringing from nowhere and apparently your boss wanted you to collect some files to write a report on from the main office so you quickly informed your friends and bade them farewell.

Collecting the files wasn't the hard part. The hard part was walking home with no one except your thoughts to keep you company. You thought about what your friends said about the Han river and decided to make a trip if you were done with your work.

It sucked to admit it, but they were probably right. The Han River must be really mesmerising for them to talk about it so much and you found yourself suddenly envious of the rest of them.

Night strolls weren’t an option in your old neighbourhood; and though the new one wasn’t bad, you were busy with both uni and your internship. I mean being able to read your fanfics itself was a luxury and these hoes expected you to take a leisure stroll? Keep dreaming luv <3

You said all that to say, but you were still thinking about going there tonight. It seemed like immense fun and plus, it would be your first midnight stroll. You just hoped, with all your might, that you would be able to finish the work as soon as possible.

Lo and behold! 3 cups of coffee later, you were done!

To celebrate, you blasted some music on the speakers and danced along to the lyrics, bopping your head along to the beats.

Namjoon looked at your dancing form through his window. You seemed like you were having a lot of fun, he concluded, an amused  grin now apparent on his face. Judging by the way you seemed to have fun, Namjoon concluded that you must've been done with the work you mentioned you had.

Namjoon did not know the practicality of this, but he had a very random idea to take you on a riverside date. And you know what? He was going to do it. Fuck Yoongi, he’s going to prove it to the rest of them that he, indeed, could ask you out.

And so he took out a random book and wrote a message on it, Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me style.

He did not know where this sudden confidence came from, but he took a small pebble from his rock collection and chucked it across to make sure it hit your window (yes, he was careful not to break it) and waited for your response.

You, on the other hand, were confused. Your mini-dance session was interrupted by a clink! Against your window and you went to check for the source of the sound; only to be met with Kim Namjoon’s waving form.

You panicked internally, not knowing what to do in front of the man you obviously had a thing for. And you were even more confused when he held up a paper with something on it.

“Do you want to go on a riverside walk with me?” It read.

Apparently, you could not form words so that’s fun =D. Instead, you chose to stand there like 🧍🏽and just nod in response. Namjoon gave you a beautiful dimpled smile with a thumbs up before closing the curtains to his window and switching his lights off.

It was only now that you were hit with the epiphany that you were going on what was essentially a midnight date with the Kim Namjoon and boy, oh boy, you were most certainly NOT prepared for it.

Rushing to your closet, you threw on your most comfortable pair of outerwear (and of course made sure you looked presentable) before chewing like 5 breath mints and grabbing your scarf (and your apartment keys) to go and meet Namjoon.

“Hey,” He smiled.

“Hey,” You replied, still breathless.

“Ready to go?” Namjoon asked and you nodded in response. You noticed that he hid something in his bag but made no comment and instead fell into a steady pace beside him.

The walk to the river was not awkward at all, thanks to Namjoon’s ability to radiate comfort. Which was a blessing cause otherwise you would definitely have embarrassed yourself by now.

You didn't even realise that you’d reached your destination until you noticed the numerous cars and lights.

“Woah.” You had no words for the sight in front of you.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Namjoon chuckled and sighed, “I love coming here. It never gets old.” He stares off into the distance.

You get it now. The way the bridge lit up, the view, the vibe, everything. It was enthralling. And the fact that it was Namjoon who was with you made this 1000 times better.

You were so absorbed with admiring the view in front of you that your dumbass didn't notice Namjoon staring at you. There was just something so absolutely adorable and endearing in the way your eyes lit up and seemed to sparkle at the sight in front of the both of you.

“Namjoon, look!” You grab the sleeve of his hoodie, “Purple lights!” He quickly snaps a picture of not only the scenery in front of him, but also you. You who were so excited to see this view at midnight for the first time.

You spent a bit more time admiring the view, goofing off, and taking pictures before finally deciding that it was time for the both of you to head back. As upset as you were, you took comfort in knowing that you could visit this place more often hereon.

The conversation on the walk back home was one that you would never forget.

“No way… Here I was thinking that alpha and beta were just limited to greek alphabet and math,” The look of horror on Namjoon’s face when you explained omegaverse was something that you desperately wanted a picture of, and regretted not taking one.

“It’s a thing that definitely exists, and though I may not be a fan of it; I think a lot of people are into that kind of thing.”

“Interesting,” He comments, pausing. “Say, would the title ‘My Alpha mate’ qualify as omegaverse?” His sudden question caught you off guard.

“I think so… Why do you ask?”

“I think… I think Yoongi-hyung is into omegaverse.” Even though you did not mean to, you burst out in laughter. Yoongi being into reading stories centering around dom alpha mating rituals was something you never needed to know but were glad you did.

You continued explaining the various fanfiction tropes to the other male, especially your favourite ones.

“Oh, I once remember reading this amazing Zuko, Sokka and Suki fic somewhere and I genuinely think that it should be nominated for the Nobel prize,” Namjoon looked at you affectionately while you rambled about the plot of the story.

“And at the end--” You paused, looking behind you and caught Namjoon standing with a camera in his hands.

“Sorry, you just looked so beautiful, I had to take a picture.” You were sure you looked like the capillaries in your face burst.

There were a lot of things Namjoon was proud about, and making you blush that hard was definitely on his top 5.

“L-let’s go, dork.” You try your best to brush it off but KIM NAMJOON JUST COMPLIMENTED YOU STFU OK YOU WERE ALLOWED TO CRY.

Anyways, y’all reached your apartment complex sooner than the both of you wanted, and honestly? Neither of you wanted the other to go.

“So,” “Actually--” You both begin at the same time. Flustered, you gestured to Namjoon to go ahead with what he wanted to say and assured him that what you wanted to say wasn’t of any major importance.

“I actually bought something for you,” He took a small bag out of his backpack and handed it to you. “It’s a collection of poems and short stories that i wrote for-for you,” He flushed and avoided making eye-contact with you.

“Namjoon, I--”

“You don’t need to read it, but I just wanted to give them to you because… because I really like you.” It was your turn to blush (again).

“Of course I will read it, you idiot. I’m literally in love with you, what makes you think I won't?” Namjoon widened his eyes and proceeded to smile bashfully, pulling you into a tight hug.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” He admits, swaying you around in his arms. You nuzzle deeper into his warm embrace and whisper--

“Thank you for everything, Joonie.”

#bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon imagine #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts fluff #namjoon scenarios #im in love with this man