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sunsetcurvecuddles · 3 years

Note

Hello you told me not to hold back so I’m gonna be ANNOYING feel free to ignore indefinitely until you’re feeling it but I’m gonna send you like a bunch of prompts cause I can’t sleep and am stalling finishing my own fic.

First one: Bobby (obviously), Reggie or Luke or friends I don’t even care, tea and blankets

lol hi have a rebuke cuddle-puddle disaster, also available on ao3 here. warning for swearing and very vague allusions to physical child abuse.

i guess we belong to each other | reggielukebobby | 1.8k words

Luke has his guitar in his lap and his writing notebook by his side even though it's late at night. He's playing his acoustic, so that he has no chance of stirring Bobby's parents from where he's sat in their studio, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, it's cold enough that he's found one of Alex's hoodies in the back of the studio, a black one Alex never wears any more, and he's bundled up in it to try to fight off the chills. He regrets storming out earlier this evening — not because his parents might be worried, he's still too mad at them for that, but because he misses his own warm bed in a house with central heating.

But it's late, and he doesn't want to bother Bobby, who's already been generous enough as it is (and is exceptionally grumpy when he's woken in the middle of the night). So Alex's old hoodie, smelling vaguely of the dusty studio and distantly of Alex, will have to do.

A noise distracts Luke from his writing. Something outside the studio, maybe an animal, but it sounded like footsteps. Cautiously, he draws his guitar closer, running through what he could say if it's Bobby's parents, his heart suddenly rabbit-fast in his chest.

A head pokes through the door.

Luke's shoulders drop with relief.

It's Reggie.

He looks a little scruffy, not like himself, because usually Reggie pays such close attention to his appearance, fusses over his hair and colour-codes his outfits and shaves with the precision of a professional painter. But he kinda looks messy, which makes Luke's stomach feel even colder than the air around him.

“Oh! Hey, man,” Reggie laughs, putting on a big smile, and it'd fool anyone else — Reggie's too experienced at this for his own good. “I didn't know you'd be here!”

“Hi, Reg,” says Luke, sounding a little distracted even to his own ears as he carefully looks Reggie over. He's not walking like he's been hurt, and there are no visible injuries. So that's something. Jesus, Luke wouldn't know what to do if Reggie turned up here with a fresh version of the bruises Luke sometimes catches him trying to hide. “You, uh — you good?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Reggie agrees easily, saunters into the studio and slumps down on the couch next to Luke. The relaxed way he moves soothes Luke's worry somewhat. “The house was just — ugh. You know how they can be.” Looking over at Luke, Reggie adds, “Hey, isn't that Alex's hoodie? I was wondering what had happened to that.”

“Hey!” Luke sputters, a little defensive. “He didn't, like, loan it to me or anything, it was just here! I found it.”

“It is cold,” Reggie concedes, pulling his flannel a little tighter around him. “Wish I'd brought my jacket, but it was in the kitchen and I didn't wanna. I dunno. Didn't wanna get in the way.”

Luke nods, puts his guitar to the side so he can press up against Reggie's side. Hip to hip, his cheek on Reggie's shoulder, links their ankles together and puts an arm over Reggie's stomach. Almost automatically, Reggie links his arms around Luke in turn.

Honestly, Luke was intending to steal some of Reggie's body heat, but after Reggie's walk outside and in such a thin layer, he thinks Reggie's probably leeching his own. Luke lets him go ahead; Reggie seems to need it more than he does.

They sit for a moment, both unusually quiet, huddling and not talking. Not so much for a lack of things to talk about, but more because any topic that comes to Luke's mind feels insurmountably complex and emotional. There’s so much stuff he can't tell Reggie — so much stuff Reggie isn't telling him. So they sit together and try to create some warmth without the need for disclosure.

Until there's another set of scuffled footsteps outside.

“Not Alex too,” Reggie sighs, at a whispered volume so that the newcomer can't hear him, “he squirms so much in his sleep, man, I can't share this pull-out with him again.”

Luke muffles a laugh with the back of his hand, but he can't help worry it's Alex, too. Things have been... okay, he thinks, with Alex's folks since he came out, but he also knows Alex hoped for better. Suspects there are things Alex isn't telling them (so they all have that in common).

But it's not Alex. Preceded by an armful of blankets that he's almost tripping on, Bobby staggers in, still in his pajamas and with his eyes almost all the way closed. “Luke? It's fucking freezing, I thought I'd—” He stops when he gets far enough in to see Reggie on the couch too. “Oh, shit.”

“Hey, Bobby,” says Reggie, voice a little nervous. “I hope it's okay that I—”

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbles, and dumps the whole pile of blankets on top of Reggie. “You guys are stupid. You're both out here, in the freezing cold, and neither of you come wake me up?”

“We didn't want—” Luke starts, at the same time as Reggie insists, “You were sleeping—!”

“Idiots,” Bobby growls, rubbing his eye with his sweater paw and yawning. He looks stupidly cute, like a little kid. “You're idiots, and I hate dealing with you. I'll be back.” Turning to leave the studio again, he turns back and adds, “Hurry up and burrito yourselves in those blankets, I swear to god. And Luke, isn’t that Alex’s hoodie?”

“He left it—!” Luke starts, but Bobby’s already gone, leaving Luke with Reggie, cackling at him.

—

By the time Bobby returns, Luke and Reggie have folded the couch out into its bed form, and are snuggling under the several blankets, giggling together as they talk about how grumpy Bobby had been.

“We should have woken him up,” Reggie snorts, “I think then he would have been less pissed.”

“I would have,” Bobby agrees, sounding somewhere between menacing and amused, as he reappears over them. His hair is all shaggy in his face. He's carrying a teapot. And cups. “Sit up.”

Luke does right away, Reggie pulling himself up a little slower. Bobby sits cross-legged at the foot of the couch-bed, tucking his socked toes under his own legs to keep warm, and pours them each a mug of what smells like peppermint tea. Suddenly, Luke can't imagine anything better in the world. When Bobby offers him a cup, he takes it eagerly, wrapping his cold hands around it and enjoying the steam wafting up to his face.

“Wow,” says Reggie softly, eyes wide, “thanks, Bobby.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke echoes, letting out a sigh as he takes his first sip.

“Forget it,” Bobby says, a little bitey. Luke knows it's because Bobby hates being seen as nice, so he doesn't take it personally, and he knows Reggie won't either. He has his own cup, which he drinks as though it's done something to offend him, scowling off into the corner of the studio. Reggie nudges Bobby with his foot from under the layers of blankets, and a tiny smile tugs at Bobby's mouth as he nudges Reggie back with his elbow.

After the cup of tea, Luke feels better. He feels warmer on the inside, now, and sleepy too. Reggie is starting to get that dopey, slow blink that shows he's on the verge of sleep as well. Bobby clears his throat and holds out a hand, beckoning for their empty cups. Luke and Reggie hand them over.

“Okay,” says Bobby, after a pause. “G'night, guys.” He goes to stand, but Reggie leans forward and catches Bobby's sleeve.

“Would you stay?” he asks, as if he can't help himself, as if on sheer impulse, but he doesn’t look embarrassed afterwards.

“Reg!” Luke says, a little startled. “It's cold out here, he won't want—”

But he sees Bobby's face, and he stops himself. Because he can see it in Bobby's eyes. That he does want. He’s Bobby, so he won't say it, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on some point behind Luke and Reggie's heads, but Luke has known Bobby for too long to miss something this obvious, no matter what else Bobby can hide from him.

“That being said,” Luke backtracks hurriedly, “it would be warmer with you here, Wilson. I'm happy to be a leech.”

“That's all I'm good for, huh?” Bobby snorts, but he's already setting the mugs down on the floor near the side of the bed, already shuffling the teapot down there too. He hops up for a moment, and Luke wonders where he’s going, before he realises Bobby is just switching off the light. When Bobby comes back, he pauses, like he's not sure where he fits, and Luke and Reggie make eye contact for only a second before they move apart, leaving a space in the middle.

Bobby looks even less sure of himself, eyebrows knitted, jaw tight. His hands flex and one of them twists in the hem of his sweater. Luke gets it. It looks too much like it's on Bobby's behalf, like they’re doing it to make space for Bobby. Bobby’s always had trouble accepting anything that seems like it’s for his own benefit.

“I already sucked all Reggie's warmth up,” Luke explains.

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees immediately, and Luke loves him, “and you're warmer than Luke anyway, man. I wanna huddle with you. As a penguin, you would be my first-choice huddle-buddy.”

Bobby barks a laugh. “The fuck? What does that even mean?” Finally, he wriggles his way under the blankets in between them, and rolls his eyes when they both throw limbs over him right away, twining legs and arms together and resting cheeks on his chest.

“Like, if we were penguins. You know? In the winter?” Reggie says, like this is totally obvious and self-explanatory. “If I was a penguin, I'd be looking for the Bobby-penguin in the winter huddle to stick close to.”

“Aaand I'm at my capacity for dumb shit,” Bobby says, closing his eyes pointedly, but it's a scam, because his hands come to run through Luke and Reggie's hair. “Goodnight, morons.”

“Goodnight, Bobby,” they chorus. This close, Luke could almost brush noses with Reggie, has to try to focus his eyes to keep Reggie from getting blurry. Reggie sticks his tongue out at Luke just a little, and Luke grins back, links his fingers with Reggie’s over Bobby’s stomach, rubbing over Reggie’s knuckles until Reggie’s fingers don’t feel so much like icicles. When Luke uses his free hand to tug the neckline of Alex’s hoodie up over his nose, the familiar smell of the third piece of his heart soothes him right down.

The feel of Bobby’s fingernails on his scalp makes Luke’s eyelids flutter, and before he knows it he’s dopey, the world feeling blurrier and safer and cozier. Honestly, more like home than his own house would have. He no longer daydreams of returning to his own warm bed. Instead, he feels the way Bobby’s chest rises and falls with his breaths, pushing his and Reggie’s joined hands up and down. If he listens closely, Luke can hear Bobby’s heartbeat, familiar and steady.

Maybe the cold isn't all bad.

other prompt fills here :)

jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @malecacidd @burntchromas @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @chickwiththepurpleguitar @fairylightsandrainydays @joyandthephantoms @fighttoshine @michelangelinda @queenofthequillandink

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #bobby wilson #luke patterson #lukebobby #boggie brain rot #rebuke #idk how else to tag this LOL #my fic #chickwiththepurpleguitar #peterpatter

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too.

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever?

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas!

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

Would you maybe write something about a scenario where Em and Colson are hate fucking and Em never spends the night, but on a particular occasion, Colson is super sad/stressed and (while trying desperately to hide it) starts crying from the idea of Em leaving, so he stays and is really sweet? (Also, sorry if I went this twice–my computer's being really weird and I can't tell if it did it already!)

This isn't perfect but!! Everybody is on an angst kick and I wanted to join in so I'm using this ask 😤😤

They aren't dating.

Marshall's cock is drilling in and out of Colson's ass but that doesn't mean they're together.

It wasn't supposed to escalate to this. He's not supposed to be manhandling a stupidly long leg up in the air or swatting away the other man's helpful hands while he switches their position for the 3rd time. Hips never stopping their rapid punching forward to draw out more and more curses.

Paul wanted them to mend their beef. Come to a mutual ground of disdain at the minimum. Not bash heads together so many times over their short meeting they end up in bed together instead. Teeth and fists completely changing their plan of attack.

"F-fuck! Right there-" Marshall's definitely not supposed to be watching this annoying twink throw his long neck back and whine. Colorful arms stretching up above him to uselessly grapple onto the pillow behind his own head. "Please!"

This wasn't supposed to be the 10th or 12th time they did this.

"Shut up-" his voice is scratchy when it should be calm. "The whole floor is gonna hear you-" Paul thinks they're here mending bridges and discussing a feature.

"Then fuck me right-" Colson's voice is just as rough sounding. Marshall hates that he knows the difference between the twink's usual tone and this ruined one. How it will only get this way after he's forced his cock down the brat's throat one too many times in their foreplay. "L-learn- ah- where to stick it without directions dude!"

"Shut up." He's bruising Colson's thighs now. The dark red indents from his fingers are going to turn purple by the morning. Not that he's ever seen them do it in person at least, but the blonde never fails to send a picture over text every morning after. "Maybe if you tightened your pussy up we'd both have more fun."

Colson's chest is arching from his harder thrusts now. Voice climbing a little higher almost mockingly with each moan as he slams to the hilt.

Marshall wants to kiss him. Smother that annoyingly pretty mouth with his lips but it's not possible. Not in this position where the other man's unnecessarily large stature puts him so out of reach.

That's a good thing though, because they really don't need to be kissing. A few heated pecks here and there to get the blood pumping is one thing, making out while he fucks the blonde speechless almost feels too intimate to consider.

Theres no space for that in these brief hook ups from hotel room to hotel room, not when they still hate eachother too much for any of the burning heat they have between them to simmer down into a comfortable warmth.

"Stupid whore." His lips are pulling back in almost a snarl this time when he forces Colson over onto his stomach instead. Cock slipping free and almost losing the condom he's got slipped over it from just how quickly he pulls out. Like Colson's hole is challenging his accusation of looseness. "Fuck-" he just wants to smother the brats face down into the pillows. He tells himself his anger isn't from not being able to reach.

An impatient yank and the condoms tearing. Leaving Marshall all but ready to go put his clothes back on and storm out. There's a nasty swirl of emotions going on inside his stomach that he really doesn't want to risk bursting while they find and put on a replacement.

"W-what're you waiting for?" Colson's back is arching, and that pale mop he calls hair is lifting up to look back. So needy he can't even pause for one minute.

"Fucking condom broke- just, shit, just give me a minute-" Marshall doesn't even know where to look, not with all the blood pooling in his cock and his focus begging to be set on his rivals waiting body.

Colson put the thing on him, he can remember that much, one of those prissy little manicured nails probably scratching the elastic as he did it. He's sure he must have one in his wallet but that's across the room in his sweats, by the bathroom door. Where Colson's impatience about even waiting to let him finish his piss and get undressed had left him falling back into the door.

If he has to walk all the way over there to get it he might as well just go home.

"Forget it. I'm done." They shouldn't be fucking like this anyway. It's a major mistake.

"What?" Colson's fingers curling around his wrist is a new sensation. The wide look to his half hidden eyes punching something deep within Marshall's stomach. "We haven't even come yet-" there's a hint of hysteria in the blonde's tone and smile. "If it's because of what I said then- t-then I'll bite the fucking pillow or something alright? Don't be so dramatic dude-"

"I don't have another condom-" It's a weak excuse, they both know Colson evidently has some somewhere in the room of his own. But Marshall needs to take this brief chance to get out now before he loses it. The longer Colson stares at him the more nauseous that feeling bubbling up has him.

"...Forget it then-" the blonde's finally looking away, almost convincing Marshall that he's also second guessing this sex. But those long delicate fingers are still clutching onto his wrist and there's a palpable silence cutting through the air so thick he feels like he might choke before Colson's baby blues are meeting his head on once again. The shimmer of anxiety impossible to hide between long bangs. "Just do it raw. I-I'm clean and I- you- fuck," there's shame mixing in the look now, the grip the blonde has doubling down when Marshall reflexively tries to pull back. "Don't…."

Go. Don't go. Colson isn't saying it but Marshall can hear the word clear as day between them.

It's about the sex. He isn't satisifed yet. If Colson had cum already the bastard wouldn't be hesitating to kick him out. That's what Marshall's mind screams to reassure himself but there's still a hollow place in his stomach where he feels gutted by the look.

"...f-Fine." He tries to justify staying by remembering how annoying and painful blueballs can be. "But don't fucking text me tomorrow whining how my jizz is still leaking out of your ass."

His free hand settling back down on Colson's hip finally snaps whatever weird fog has blanketed the room. A forced sounding snicker muffling itself against the pillows while Colson's legs readjust to raise his ass. "If you can even get back inside without nutting old man-"

This kind of banter is more comfortable.

"Keep talking, I'm gonna fuck you until you're crying for me to finally finish."

"You wish." Colson's voice is still muffled but the slight challenging swing of his hips says more than enough.

Marshall's fingers instantly find their previous spot, each digit mirroring the small red dots on the opposite side of the younger rapper's skin.

The lubes still nearby on the bed luckily, allowing him to be quick as he reslicks his achingly hard cock and squirts an extra dollop directly on his partner's hole for good measure. As much as he loves hurting the punk doing so in this way would only cause them both more trouble.

"F-fuck-" Of course Colson's as tight as a vice when he finally tries to push inside. The tight ring of muscle rejecting his entry just as vehemently as he's sure the boy's heart would. They can't do anything pain free, like the world is punishing them for continuing their facade. "Relax-"

"Thought you said I was too loose?" Marshall can practically hear that smug little smirk Colson's sporting.

Defiantly his hips jerk forward a bit harder, until the blonde actually does cry out and his legs spread the tiniest bit wider. The tight clench Colson has evidently been giving his hole relaxing instantly to let him breach. A string of curses and clawing hands keeping Marshall from fully basking in the incomparable tight heat slowly engulfing his cock.

Even with a pillow clutched close against his face Colson is loud. Each noise climbing alongside his pace as he starts properly fucking his rival yet again. Until they're almost back up at full throttle and Colson's mesmerizing back is arching, a large hand jerking up to plant itself flat against the headboard. "Fuck, fuck, please, just like that Marsh, god- baby d-don't stop-"

The slip of a nickname doesn't escape Marshall's notice, he's just too focused on chasing down his own pleasure to properly care. Once they're done he'll mention it. Or maybe even just wait until tomorrow to text the brat a reminder, but for right now he keeps pumping his hips. Heart warming uncontrollably at the mere joke of being someone Colson can call baby.

Reflexively his palm claps down hard on the other man's ass, too sharply and sudden to do anything but sting. "Ah, f-fuck!" He's taking his anger at his own feelings out on Colson and it's not fair but he can't help himself.

The red imprint of his hand glares back in his vision long after a kinky smack should have faded and just the sight of it sticking around gets Marshall's pace growing a little erratic. He wants to tear the blonde apart, shred every bit of his being to pieces and then sew it all back together to see the taint his touch has created visualized as hundreds of scars. He wants to sully the blinding beauty he sees everytime they meet and everytime he glimpses back at the bed before he leaves. Just ruin Colson completely so that there's no other choice but him in the whole world for the blonde to turn to.

But he's not falling in love.

That would mean he's stupid enough to fall for someone who could never settle for him. That he's actively continuing to come back and push the bar with every hookup just to see when enough is enough and he'll finally be left on the otherside of the hotel room door. Or the one waking up alone in bed the morning after.

Marshall wouldn't.

"S-shit wait- I-" Colson's hips are stuttering back to meet his, the hand he's still got hugging the pillow abandoning it in favor of stuffing down between his legs. It's obvious the blonde's close. Marshall can feel it in the tight grip around his cock and hear it in that shaky voice. It's not until he doubles down to fuck the younger rapper hard enough to knock his slender body inch by inch further up the bed that Marshall realizes he's trying to hold out. "N-not yet, ah, fuck, s-slow down-"

"No-" he's close himself, chest heaving and balls tightening as it is. There's no way he's letting Colson try to change the pace now. "Save, fuck, save that edging shit for after I leave-" he's lashing out for control again but can't stop himself.

This time instead of pinching pale skin Marshall slides his fingers up into sweaty blonde hair. Yanking back until he's got the man's back arched perfectly and his mouth can seal in a bite to one pointy shoulderblade. Fingers snaking around to hold Colson up there by his throat. "Fucking take it like a good whore and come Kelly."

In this position he feels unbelievably deeper and there's nothing to block out the blonde's gasps and cries.

Nails scratch quickly along his thigh but Marshall ignores them to keep rolling his hips. The need to make Colson finish first fueling his free hand to climb up to knock away the punks own. Quickly jerking up and down over the soaked cock the other man was trying so hard to squeeze and restrict.

"N-no, no, fuck, Marshall-" a hand's curling around the back of his head to pull him close despite Colson's protests. Every atom in the other males body seeming to reach out and beg and plead for him to come closer, to fuck him harder until they split through the magnetic field and combine into one. Marshall wants to kiss him again. Hates how he can't even see the brats mouth over his shoulder from his current position. His fingers fly faster and hips roll up firmer in retaliation. "F-fuck-"

There's a wet sob breaking the moans in the air, piercing straight through his chest like a bullet while Colson's hips stutter back and hot release paints across his fingers. Sending him right over the edge himself. Body forcing them both forward so he can hump and grind his pelvis against Colson's ass down to the bone while he pumps and fills the twink up with his own release. The hands around his neck and cock turning into strong arms around the blonde's chest and waist like a hug.

It's the closest thing to a cuddle Marshall will allow himself. That he can't actually prevent his orgasming body from resisting.

There's so much comfort and begging from his body to stay like that, for Colson to never leave him in those moments that the rapper can't help but tear up a little himself.

But just as quickly as its come sensibility returns and with it the guilt and shame. Scaring his arms free and his body away from Colson's usually still trembling form.

"Wait-" fingers are grabbing his wrist again, weaker this time.

Marshall's still buried to the hilt, even though his chest has unstuck itself from Colson's museum print of a back tatt. Sorry is dancing on the tip of his tongue. Like it always does. Always too graceful to ever trip up and spit out though before he finally leaves.

"A-again." Colson's face is still buried in the pillow, eyes and nose planted firmly down while his chins pulled up.

"What?" A second round isn't completely crazy for them, sometimes when the anger is hot enough its even necessary but not tonight. Marshall shouldn't even be humoring the request, not with how fragile his emotions feel, but Colson's hand refuses to let go.

"Fuck me. Please. Just-" Now with his head clearing the rapper can finally notice how Colson's shoulders are turning inwards, how the tone of his voice carries a shake. "Do whatever. I-I dont care. Just don't- fuck, d-don't-"

Go.

Leave. He has to leave.

"Colson?" The name feels strange in Marshall's mouth from all the "kelly"'s "brats" and other derogatory words he usually uses in it's place.

Wet baby blues peering back all but pin him in place whether he wants to leave or not. Their message clear.

"Please." A single word and it's as effective as a sledgehammer around his heart.

"I-" Can't. Shouldn't. "I'm not hard anymore."

On a normal night that kind of obvious embarrassed blurt of an answer would get the kid smiling, one of those rare soft warm looks where his crows feet and gums showed, that scorched Marshall's skin from how brightly it radiated affection. Each chuckle or snort following just another stone slamming hard against his heart.

Tonight Colson doesn't smile. Instead of crinkling at the corner to flash the only hint at Colson's slow aging those lashes drop just low enough to bubble up the small collection of tears already present. His pretty but thin lips quivering up and down to fight back a frown.

A year ago this exact look was the center of so many fantasies. He had wanted nothing more than to see the blonde crumble and break apart in front of him like a pathetic mess.

Right now instead of satisfaction all Marshall's body feels is hollow. Like his heart has finally abandoned his chest and surrendered itself to the hopefully quick acting acids of his stomach. The rapper doesn't think he can possibly feel worse but then Colson's arching his body away from him. Slipping his soft cock free of that lingering tight heat and stealing away any trace of faux comfort he feels with every centimeter of separating skin.

"I'll take care of it-" Colson's voice is hoarse, like hes fighting down the threat of a sob while his body twists onto its side. The sluggish lift of a hand back towards his cock piercing through him like a killing blow.

"No." Now his throat feels tight too. Shame and guilt pouring down his spine at the thought of Colson pushing through his obvious pain and turmoil to jerk his cock back to life just so he stays a few moments longer.

"Please-" Baby blue eyes are shining at Marshall again. The fast slip of a tear down one flushed cheek only making his fingers dig harder into younger male's wrist. "Marshall-"

He can't do this.

"No-"

"Yes!" Colson's scream pierces the silence so suddenly he thinks his wars might be ringing. But the pure desperation painted in angry eyes keeps Marshall's own from flinching all the way closed. "I'll fucking find you viagra or- or suck your dick until my jaws sore-" now Colson's own fingers are cutting back, prying at the preventative grip he's got on the blonde's hand like a caged animal might. "I don't care what- just- you- you aren't- you can't-"

It hurts, and with the way Colson's legs are twitching beneath him Marshall knows a kick or knee to his gut might come next. None of it compares to how badly his throat tears when he speaks though. "I'm not fucking you!" Somehow he manages to put every ounce of finality in his voice that he intends. Freezing Colson's grappling and rambling in an instant.

The ensuing silence feels deafening.

Colson's still staring at him. Pain and anger warring across his face in small twitches and ticks. Marshall's mouth just repeats itself. Quieter this time. The heave if his lungs breaking up his words in tight exhales. "I'm not….I….I'm not going to fuck you."

There's a million more words tangling on his tongue. The order jumbling and backing them up like a traffic jam until he feels like he can't even breathe anymore.

I want to stay. I'm sorry. Dont do this to yourself. Please. Don't cry. Colson-

"I'm sorry." Colson cracks first. Expression screwing up and the floodgates behind his eyes opening as he sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry Marshall-"

This time he doesn't resist that ache to kiss the blonde.

It's messy and Colson's mouth tastes like snot and tears already but Marshall presses closer anywhere. Cradling the younger rapper's skull with his free hand so tightly he knows he has to be pulling out hair. The wrist he'd snatched pinned between their bodies in a way that makes his own ache. But he ignores all of that and kisses Colson harder. Smacking their lips and teeth against one another in hopes the words trapped in his throat might pour their way out and into Colson's. Down the blonde's own throat to reach his heart.

He kisses Colson until he can't physically do it any longer. The sharp sting of oxygen deprivation jolting through his brain and colored spots dancing behind his closed eyes before their lips finally part.

Marshall wants to press so close he sinks down into Colson's bones. Join in with his marrow and spend the rest of his life repairing every broken piece of the beautiful man's soul from the inside out.

That's not possible though so he settles for pulling Colson close. Enveloping him in his arms the same way he wishes he had a dozen times over. Stabilizing him through every shuddering sob and heartbreaking tremble.

He's not falling in love.

"I got you."

He'd already crash landed there long ago.

#emgk #asks #i love asks #im so fucking stuck with writers block #hopefully posting this helps

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, slight angst in the beginning but not really, fluff

i owe you guys an apology. i’m not very active on tumblr as of posting. i’m sorry about that. school has been hard on me and i’ve been very stressed. i’ll try to do better in the future :)

listen to the music masterlist

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Armin was discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. The doctor said there was nothing extraordinary to worry about. But of course, even with this information, Eren still made a fuss. That much was clear when he walked through the door with Armin's arm slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't break my leg, Eren. I don't need to use you as a crutch," Armin grumbled as the two walked into the kitchen from the garage. He reached back to shut the door with his free hand.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for supporting you in these trying times."

"I don't need your support," they scoffed. He unwrapped his arm and made his way across the room.

Eren gave him the finger, rather aggressively. The gesture wasn't reciprocated since the blond already disappeared into the hallway.

Sucking on a freeze pop, you leaned back against the cool countertop. "Welcome home, lovely. Have fun?"

Eren sighed loudly as he walked toward the freezer and got a popsicle for himself. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the top of the wrapper off into the trash.

He said sarcastically, "Oh, absolutely I did." He paused and shook his head disapprovingly. "He's a lot bitchier when it's us two. How's it been here?"

You shrugged. "So, so. Pretty quiet."

He nodded and pushed up the pineapple-flavored ice. "Thought so. Jean's gone today, obviously. Is Mikasa here?"

You huffed softly at the mention of her. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. She's been upstairs all day."

He frowned. "Oh, I see. Armin told me about the kiss, by the way. At first, I was gonna make fun of you for passing out but now that just seems cruel."

"You think?" You laughed lightly and rested both arms on the counter.

The sound that followed from him was more of an exhale than a laugh. "Listen, Y/n, even if she's avoiding you right now, I know she'll come around. Just wait and see."

"You're right," you mumbled, sticking the freeze pop in your mouth again. Armin basically said the same thing. Eren sent you a quick smile and patted your shoulder before leaving through the hallway.

You swallowed the remaining ice and threw away the wrapper. Noticing the bin was full, you took the trash to the bigger bin outside. Maybe doing some chores would distract you from Mikasa for a while.

Plus, today was the only day that allowed you to do so. Practices for the band's upcoming performance were every day until the date of it. You'd be rehearsing 24/7 since it was scheduled on such short notice.

It was going to be at a middle school some of your friends went to. The DJ they booked before flaked and your manager was kind enough to offer your talents.

Jean was meeting with Hannes and the school administrators to work out some extra kinks before the practices began.

The only day there wasn't a rehearsal was on Eren's birthday. You all decided it'd be best to take the day off to celebrate and set up for the party that would be happening later in the night.

The day passed easily as you got caught up on chores that weren't done over the past few days. The house was messier than you liked it although it hadn't been long at all since the previous clean-through. However, it had been a hectic week.

Speaking of hectic, when Zeke was there, he sure made himself at home. That much was clear when you made it to the living room portion of the basement.

Eren probably couldn't find time to clean up yet. Either that or he was just lazy because at that moment he was more focused on a pinball machine than the state of his living space.

His brother's suitcases were lying open by the couch. To be honest, you didn't love the idea of a criminal's possessions lying around your home. So, you decided that throwing them in a storage closet was the best option.

When you finished tidying up, you started a game on the pinball machine next to Eren's.

His birthday was in three days. The house looked a lot better than it did when you started, which was perfect for throwing a party. You could only hope it would stay that way.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Jean came down the stairs to let you know he was back from the school. He left when he saw neither of you were interested in what he had to say.

Once it got dark outside, you left Eren to his own devices and went to your own room to chill out some more.

Unfortunately, when you flopped down on your bed, Mikasa started to consume your thoughts again. In an effort to fight them, you turned on a show to distract yourself.

For the slow hours you spent staring at the screen, you couldn't focus, not once. No matter how hard you trained your eyes on the screen, you still thought about her.

Sighing, you got out of bed and walked to your bedroom door. You were careful of the creaking hinges, it was around midnight. Everyone would either be asleep or close to sleeping.

Except for Armin. You had no idea what he did at night but you knew better than to ask. However, he was probably pretty tired from the time spent at the hospital. So, there was a solid chance he actually was asleep.

You crept outside, checking that the front door didn't make too much noise. Your car was parked in the driveway since there was never room in the garage. The gravel underneath your feet made noise as you walked toward it. You pushed yourself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield.

Drawing in a long breath, you stared up at the sky. You needed to calm down and clear your mind. This would help, as it usually did.

Even if it was a little chilly, it was warm for a night in March, especially this late.

The stress that bubbled inside you simmered down the longer you watched the thin clouds dim the stars.

Any negative thoughts you had about the situation with Mikasa or the previous days seemed to disappear the longer your focus was on the sky.

Gravel crunched and you snapped your gaze toward the noise. Sitting up, you were surprised by what you saw.

Mikasa froze when she realized she'd been caught. She held a white blanket in her arms and still had one foot on the porch steps.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

"Hey." Your breaths were a tad ragged from the initial scare.

She came closer to the car. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." You took the blanket from her arms and she pushed herself up to sit beside you.

"The door to your room was open when I came downstairs for a drink. I thought you'd be out here."

"Oh." She knew you better than you thought.

She spread the blanket over both of your laps and leaned down on the hood of the car.

She looked at the sky but your eyes were still on her. "Why did you come out here?"

After a moment of silence, her gaze finally shifted to you. "I wanted to apologize. Ignoring you was immature. Plus, I remember how you used to come out here when you were upset. Above all else, I wanted to make sure you were alright." A blush coated her cheeks when she finished talking.

You took note of that and couldn't help but blush yourself. "I'm okay. I understand why you'd ignore me, though. If you didn't want it, that was probably your only option since we have to see each other so much."

Her brows furrowed and she sat up again. "What? Y/n, did you think I didn't want to kiss you?"

You blinked stupidly. "Well, yeah."

She laughed. "You can be so ridiculous sometimes. I've always wanted to kiss you like that. I'm just not great at expressing it."

Even more heat rushed to your face. You gawked at her and she looked down at her feet. Many things were running wild in your head. For some reason, though, there was one thing that was so prominent in your mind once you remembered it.

Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one came out rather bluntly. "What did you mean in your letter? What should I know?"

Her eyes widened, she didn't expect you to ask about that yet, and quite frankly, neither did you. Nonetheless, she answered anyway. "If only you knew. That's what I wrote. That's easy to answer now. If only you knew how long I've loved you."

She turned her face and made direct eye contact with you. She seemed to know the next question on your mind. "You never knew it but I've been in love with you since high school."

That can't be right. This is a dream. You're dreaming, Y/n. What the actual fuck?

"Are you sure? Then why did you ask Jean out when we were seniors? Why did you break it off with me mere weeks before?" Your mind was racing and it translated into sentences quickly spilling from your lips.

She still looked straight at you. Her facade of confidence was making you nervous. "I'm sure. Back then, I was so afraid of what I felt for you. Pretending the feelings weren't real and projecting them onto Jean seemed like my easiest option. For years I convinced myself I loved him. But it was never him. It was always you. I felt so awful when I realized what I was doing."

And just like that, the facade fell. Her words were no longer held confidence. She was afraid of how you'd react. She had little idea that you were ready to be just as vulnerable as her.

"When did you realize?"

Looking up at the dark sky, she pushed a stray tuft of hair away from her face. She continued, sighing softly before she spoke, "When I saw him that night with Marco, I was relieved that I didn't have to be with him anymore. When I tried to figure out why that was, I could only think about you. Every feeling that scared me before came back. I got so scared that I left. But, even then, they never went away."

You were having some trouble believing that this was actually happening. Mikasa loved you back this entire time. If she hadn't kissed you before, you would've thought this was only possible in your dreams.

However, things were actually starting to make sense. That whole time it was your fault. Every night of those two years you spent wondering about what you could have done to make her stay. It turns out you did enough. You were the reason she left.

But maybe you were the reason she came back as well. You could recall something Jean had told you a day before she came home.

"Why did you come back? You needed to do something?"

She looked back at you again. "I've just done it," she said.

Before you could process her words, she was leaning closer to you. Her lips were so close to brushing yours but she paused before they could fully touch. "Can I?" she whispered.

"You don't even have to ask."

When she kissed you, you felt everything. Her feelings, your feelings. The world was minuscule compared to you two. Anything else meant nothing at that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt fully complete. You were a puzzle and she was the missing piece. It was like before, only this time, you knew for sure what you wanted.

Pulling away, you managed an, "I love you too, Mikasa."

There were no other words that would feel so good to finally say out loud.

Everything was clear. You understood.

Now more than ever, you wanted to be with her.

posted: 9/26/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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concubuck · 3 years

Text

Dinner Date (and Dessert) - chat log 8/28

Alastor a.k.a. Buck (hi there) has a date night with Alastor a.k.a. King (@akillingspreeinwhite).

It turns out that when you hook up a concubus with the ruler of hell, what you get is the sexual equivalent of a perpetual motion machine. They simply do not run out of stamina. Truly horrifying to behold.

King

👑 Good evening, my dear! Would you happen to have tomorrow night free for that promised dinner?

Buck

Completely free! Shall I pencil you in? I hope if I give you an address you can find your way to the right universe?

King

👑 Yes, of course! It's a simple thing for me. Shall I arrive around say 7 o'clock?

Buck

7 o'clock is perfect! I'll arrange a room. I hope you don't mind a hotel room; I'm afraid I don't have a dining space that's fit for a guest.

King

👑 That works just fine for me, dear! Send me the room number when you have it.

Buck

I'll see you soon, your majesty~

King

👑 Indeed you shall!

Buck

He got a room in a hotel he’d frequented several times before, one of those stainless-steel-and-glass-and-exposed-brick places that thought “industrial” and “high-end” belonged in the same sentence as each other. Usually he visited it for the jacuzzi and the floor-to-ceiling windows—but for this trip, it had a well-stocked kitchenette, too.

And he could hardly focus on cooking. He kept catching himself with one hand on the spatula and the other trying to sneak under his apron. Just a few hours, and he’d be meeting *himself* face-to-face, for the first time—be stared at by his own eyes, heard by his own ears, close enough to touch, to claw, to bite—

But dinner first. Technically, neither of them had promised more than dinner yet. He was at least going to get that right.

And by 7 o’clock, distractions aside, he’d managed to finish dinner, clean up, set up the radio in the kitchen, and find a spot to perch by the door while he anxiously awaited his date.

King

The radio crackled to life, playing a quick instrumental tune, and a portal sprang open-- and through stepped King. His lips stretched in a grin, he dusted off the lapels of his white and red tuxedo.

"Good evening! Buck, I presume?" He asked, eyes glinting as he moved closer. His antlers, large as they were, knocked a bit against the ceiling and he laughed.

"Oh, pardon me! Let's adjust the antennae, shall we?" His antlers shrank down to a more manageable size-- still large, but far less tall.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear!" He inclined his head.

Buck

He started at the sound—never in his life had somebody else wrested control of a radio away from him. He only had long enough to think *well, of course,* before the portal opened to admit his alternate.

And there he *was,* in all his glory. It was his own face, his own smile, even his own skin as it used to look before he gave up his humanity—and it was all aimed at him. He was very glad he'd added some tight underwear to the harness underneath his clothing, lest it be a little *too* obvious just how thrilling it was to meet himself.

Other than that, though, next to the king's tuxedo, he felt painfully underdressed. Just a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and slim pants—the compromise his sense of shame had reached with his eagerness. He wished his shame had won a little more ground.

"Ah—*yes.* The one and only—so to speak." He laughed somewhat breathlessly, heart hammering in his chest. Collect yourself, idiot. "I should downsize too. There's probably a rule against having a hat bigger than the king's, isn't there?" And anyway, the large antlered heart looming over his head felt a little *too* obvious. It was only with difficulty that he managed to reign the majority of it in.

"The pleasure's all mine, sire—do you prefer 'sire'? Tell me how formal I should be, I'm new to cross-universe etiquette."

King

"Just King will do, my dear-- or if you'd rather a pet name, that's fine by me, as well. No need to stand on formality when it's just us two, hm?" He winked, and held his hand forward-- an offer for Buck to place his own and perhaps receive a kiss to his knuckles.

"The pleasure is mine, of course, to be your guest this night."

Buck

Buck's grin stretched wider. "We'll have to see what pet name seems fitting, won't we?" He winked back.

Hands! Damn, he should have worn gloves—he was *very* glad he hadn't worn gloves—he immediately placed his hand in King's. "It's not every day I entertain royalty. I hope I can offer you a meal fit for a king." Is he talking about dinner or is that a euphemism? (It's both.)

King

King placed a soft, warm kiss on Buck's knuckles, his thumb rubbing over them after. He didn't release the other's hand, instead drawing him up.

"Well then, no point in dallying about, let's eat, shall we? I'm positively _starved_."

Buck

Just ignore the fact that at the kiss a good 20% of the antler mass he'd just whisked away was now back—aaand there went another 30%.

"You and me both! *Utterly ravenous*." That would be a perfect opportunity to go for King's mouth; but instead he restrained himself to pressing his thigh to King's as he tipped his head toward a dining table past the kitchenette. (He'd opted for stupidly decadent—filet mignon and lobster.) "It took all my willpower not to start without you."

King

"Oh, look at that! Simply scrumptious!" King cooed, eyes on the meal set on the table-- though they flickered to Buck with a flash of a wry smirk.

King released Buck's hand to sweep behind the other's chair, pulling it out for him like a proper gentleman.

"I'm sure! It must've took an immense amount of will to get through that ordeal!" He chuckled.

Buck

Odd how the room felt a little bit dimmer when King was looking away from Buck.

"You have no idea." As he took his seat, he broke eye contact with King for the first time since he'd entered the room—but turned to catch his gaze again as soon as he could. "I had to make a special surface trip just for the lobster. It will be well worth it."

King

King pushed the seat back into place, before taking his own with another sweeping, elegant movement. He smiled at Buck, gently and genially taking his knife and fork in hand.

"It certainly will, I haven't had lobster in days," He said, smirking as he cut a nice bite of steak. He let out a low moan when the meat hit his tongue.

"Mm, simply divine."

Buck

*Days,* he says. It was a good thing Buck had gone for decadent, imagine if he'd dared to stop short.

"Oh, that *is* good. Not to pat my own back, but!" He laughed. "*Next* time, you ought to tell me what you'd like to taste. I'll see what I can do."

King

"My tastes can be quite varied and wild, I'll have you know." He laughed, taking a bite of the lobster. "I'm sure whatever you dish up would be well to my liking."

He winked again.

Buck

At this point it was like he'd never tried to retract his antlers at all. "Good, then we're well-matched! We'll have to *experiment* sometime."

(Did he have control over the hotel radio again? Time to turn some background music on. Not having music was weird.)

King

"That sounds simply wonderful, I whole-heartedly agree! We certainly should-- but since this is our first....dinner, then perhaps sticking to the basics for now." He took another bite.

Buck

"Oh, absolutely. One must master the basics before trying the more exotic recipes, mustn't one? But I'm sure you'll find tonight's *entire* menu equally enjoyable."

King

"I'm sure that I shall." He chuckled again, eating more of the steak and lobster. "Might I inquire plainly what you expect for the night? Just so we may be clear."

Buck

A blink. Okay, straightforward it was, then. Made things easier—even if it did make his face hotter. "Plainly, I'd appreciate at least one orgasm by the end of the night, and I'm *extremely* flexible on the specifics of how we get there. I don't like blindfolds, gags are hit or miss, and I prefer the lights on."

King

King smiled widely as he took another bite. "I guarantee more than one tonight. And it would be a shame for either of us to not see one another during. I never much like blindfolds either. Do you have a safe word? I know we're not going to do anything too wild tonight, but just for reference. Mine is Defeat."

Buck

"*Well!* I'll do my best to return the favor in kind." Don't mind him if he just. Stretches his legs. And maybe brushes an ankle against King's. "'Defeat' is fine, I tend to go with whatever my partner's using. Either that or just 'stop.' I doubt we'll get up to anything tonight that would make that ambiguous." He also doubted he'd want to say it.

King

King returned the touch to his ankle with one back, smirking as he took another bite. And lo and behold, his plate was empty. He _was_ rather large, a normal portion was small to him.

"Looks like I'm finished," He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and grinning. "Are you?"

Buck

"Nearly!" He devoured the last few bites viciously—he hadn't been kidding about being ravenous. And to hell with etiquette, he was more eager to move on to dessert than to keep eating at a mannerly pace.

King

Once Buck was finished scarfing down the last bits of food, King rose and moved to pull his chair back out, and once more offered his hand to the other. Always the gentleman, it seemed.

"Shall be adjourn to the bed, then?" He purred.

Buck

Buck took King's hand—and his elbow. That's his now. Now that dinner wasn't distracting them, his eyes were once again firmly glued to King's face. "*Let's.*" He tipped his head toward the bedroom door.

King

King grinned wider, leading the way into the bedroom. With a light kick, he shut the door behind them, his free hand covering Buck's hand.

"I do want you to know that at first, I really did think you were only offering me dinner and nothing more, when you initially offered."

Buck

"I was afraid you might think that!" He laughed and pressed closer to King's side, his long tail loosely wrapping around King's leg. "I thought I'd have to be *extra* suggestive at the dinner table. But you worked it out before you got here."

(The radio's teleported itself into the bedroom. Don't worry about it.)

King

"That I did, and I was more than happy to oblige." King sat on the bed, tugging Buck into his lap. His hand cupped Buck's cheek, his gloved thumb playing with his bottom lip.

"Why don't you help me undress?" He cooed.

Buck

He gladly let himself be tugged down, straddling King's lap. Guess who's rock hard? (Spoilers: it's the same guy who's been rock hard this whole time.) "What an *honor.*" He slid his hands eagerly over King, briefly feeling his chest before getting to work undoing buttons. He let King play with his lip a moment, nibbling at the tip of his thumb, then tugged at King's glove with his teeth.

King

"Try the middle finger, it works better for that," he said, placing said digit's tip on the other's lips. His other hand reached to flick a button open on Buck's shirt, and he peeked beneath with a soft groan.

"You're wearing the harness....good," He purred.

Buck

"I'll try whatever you offer me." He kissed King's fingertip before tugging again on the glove, this time with more success.

His grin widened, impish around the glove still dangling from between his teeth. "I *thought* you might like that. It seemed like your colors." It felt like the exposed skin of his chest was blazing beneath King's gaze. If he hadn't already been neon red, he would be now.

King

"Seeing the back of it got me ever so curious about what the front looked like." He grinned, taking the glove with his now bare hand to toss aside. He swapped his hands, placing the tip of his other middle finger into those jaws-- and the warmth of his skin pressed against Buck's as his hand made contact with his chest.

"They are-- white and gold on red. Quite a lovely combination, no?"

Buck

"Mm-*hmm.*" He was already so revved up that just the touch to his chest was enough to make his eyelids flutter. He sucked on King's finger for a moment before dispatching the glove the same way as the first.

"So, what do you think?" He undid another button, exposing a bit more skin and harness. "Is the front as pretty as the back?"

King

"So far, yes. But I'll reserve full judgement for when I get to see it all." He chuckled, and his head tilted as he finally leaned in to kiss Buck. He nipped at the other's lower lip, the hand not on Buck's chest wrapping around the back of his head.

Buck

Oh, those *fangs.* His fangs. Was this what other people felt, kissing Buck? (Probably not—he suspected King had a hell of a lot more than three years' experience.) He kissed back, teeth teasing at King's lips, offering his tongue to be nipped at as well.

King

King delighted in the sensation of flesh between his teeth, of teasing it and playing with it, pricking it gently with those sharp tips. He accepted the tongue, so very gently scraping his teeth across it, as then his tongue joined the dance as well.

Buck

Buck hummed into the kiss—but there was only so long he could handle kissing before the lack of eye contact got to him. He rolled his hips against King's, pressing their groins together, and reached under King's coat to untuck his shirt—a reminder of what else they had on their plate.

King

King gave a small gasp at the roll of hips, and his hands moved to do away with the buttons on his vest. The shirt buttons followed, though there was still his undershirt to contend with.

King shrugged out of the jacket, and began to undo his bowtie. "I fear I wore far too many layers for these activities, didn't I?" He laughed breathlessly.

Buck

Buck smirked wryly. "And here I'd worried I'd underdressed." He helped King to undress where he could, and when he couldn't help, continued unbuttoning his own clothing. "But if you're *desperate,* we only really need you pants down, don't we?"

King

"I'd rather have it all off, this is bespoke after all." He winked and laughed.

Saying that, he tossed his jacket, shirt, and vest onto the floor. Seemed he didn't truly care about his suit all that much.

Buck

"Oh, then by all means! I'd hate for them to get dirty. I don't mind for my *own* clothes, but..." He tugged King's undershirt up over his chest, then paused, eyeing King's antlers. Nope, undershirt wasn't going over those unless King magicked it.

King

"Ah, yes, let me take care of that--" With a slight flourish, he simply yanked on the undershirt-- and it came away cleanly and in one piece.

"Ta-da~" He said, with a smarmy look on his face. He pushed Buck's shirt off completely, hooking fingers into the harness. "So pretty for me."

Buck

A laugh and a disembodied round of applause for King's magic trick. "Handy!"

He arched his back for King, leaning back with his hands on King's knees, showing off how the harness fit him and tugging back against King's fingers, drinking in the attention. "And all for your pleasure."

King

"Mm, what a lovely thing. All for me, how lucky I am." He grinned, one finger staying hooked in, while the other let go to gently drag his claws against skin.

With quick flicks of his feet, he removed his shoes, the socks just disappearing to and reappearing on the piled of clothes. "I think we're finally almost undressed," He said, laughing.

Buck

"*Nearly.*" He sat up and hooked his thumbs into King's waistband pointedly. "Should I... keep the harness on?" As if he didn't know.

King

"Yes, it's quite lovely. And it makes it far easier to manhandle you." He laughed. "Plus, I want to see how your equipment looks all caught up in it."

Buck

“Oh, *would* you!” He got up on his knees, took King’s hands, and guided them up to his own waist band. (… With maybe a quick detour over his ass.) “It’s quite a sight, if I say so myself! Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

King

"I would indeed like that very much!" King smirked, unbuttoning the pants before sliding them down Buck's hips. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Buck

Beneath his pants, he had on a tight black thong, just barely enough to keep himself restrained and certainly not leaving anything to the imagination. He wasn’t patient enough to wait for King to tug it off; he slid it down himself. He was almost painfully erect, tip already smeared with precum, framed prettily by the harness, a gold ring like the one around his tail in his photo wrapped around the shaft. Buck’s breath stilled as he awaited King’s reaction.

King

There was a short intake of breath at the sight, and a noise rumbled through him, somewhere between a purr and the rumble of thunder far off.

"Oh, that is _beautiful_," He said, quickly flipping them around to be able to lay Buck on the bed. Once situated, he nearly ripped the other's pants free and tossed them aside.

Buck

He could feel himself twitch at the sound of that sharp inhale, and he was sure he could feel that rumble like a vibration. He let King lay him down and finish undressing him, then eagerly spread his legs—here he was for King’s consumption, all of him on display, and King’s gaze felt like electricity across every inch of exposed flesh.

“I hope you’re going to let me see, too?” He stretched out a hand again toward King’s waist and his pants, not quite touching—waiting for permission.

King

King smiled, licking his lips. He moved closer, letting Buck's hands collide with his hips.

"Have at it, then. I'm all yours, darling." He winked.

Buck

“You honor me.” He pulled himself up into a sitting position by his grip on King’s waistband, then eagerly slid it down.

King

Pants and underwear both went down, and thus sprang forth his erection. Proportionally average on a demon of King's size meant it was quite large in size, standing at full attention. Not quite as eager looking as Buck's own, but certainly excited. King smirked.

Buck

To Buck, “excited” was the most important part. His smile didn’t change but a glint of hunger entered his eyes as he leaned closer, face inches from the tip. “A scepter fit for a king—hah! But you’ve probably heard that line before.” He placed his hands lightly on King’s thighs, close enough his fingers could brush the base of King’s cock if he wanted.

King

King laughed at the joke. "I have! But it still gets me every time." He chuckled a little more, and then smiled wider.

"I can see your eager for a taste. Go ahead, indulge yourself, darling."

Buck

He didn’t even reply; he just wrapped his hands around the base of King’s cock and leaned in, ran the flat of his tongue along the bottom side, and then slid the tip into his mouth. All with his eyes rolled up to keep watching King’s face.

King

King's breath caught, and he stared down at Buck, keeping his eyes on him. His hands wrapped around the other's antlers, grinning as he held tight.

Buck

Oh, to look up at his own face and know what a sight those eyes were seeing! If Buck dared try to stroke himself now, he was sure he’d immediately go off like a geyser.

He stilled when King’s hands gripped his antlers. “Do you want to take the reins?” (Don’t worry about where that voice is coming from when Buck’s mouth is clearly occupied. It’s probably normal.)

King

"No, do please continue, I was just getting a grip so as not to fall over in sheer pleasure." He winked, licking his lips again.

"I want to see what you can do."

Buck

“Well! If you insist…” Only the Radio Demon could smile so effortlessly with a jumbo dick stretching his jaw open.

And then he got to work, one hand gripping King’s ass to hold him close, head jerking back and forth to let King slide effortlessly into his throat, so ferociously and greedily that it wouldn’t seem far-fetched if he bit it off to keep it for himself.

King

King didn't try to keep himself quiet-- he wouldn't have been able to anyways, considering he was used to being as loud as he wanted-- and let his moans and groans fill the air. Mutterings of things like 'Good boy', and 'So pretty sucking my dick' intermixed with the noises. His hips moved with the motions of Buck, eagerly seeking more of that wet heat.

Buck

Every noise and note of praise was a hot jolt that zinged straight to his groin. He finally let himself wrap a hand around his own cock—it didn’t matter if he came this soon, he was pretty sure he didn’t *have* a refractory period anymore—and let his own orgasmic moaning contribute to the stimulation he was lavishing on King’s dick.

King

King let out a long moan of his own, tossing his head back as he lost himself to the sensation.

"Fuck, yes! Yes!" He groaned, hips snapping forward and back eagerly into the waiting mouth and throat. Another long moan signaled his own orgasm, and he spilled himself down Buck's throat.

Buck

Although that load was getting swallowed no matter what Buck did, he still tried to swallow it even harder, throat working around King’s dick. He jerked himself off faster, desperately trying to hasten a second orgasm—but it hovered just out of reach. That didn’t do anything to stop him from moaning just as zealously through King’s orgasm.

King

King panted softly, slowly pulling back to remove himself from Buck's mouth. He wasn't soft, no, far from it. His cock still stood proud, ready for more, and he grinned.

"What a lovely first course, I think I'm ready for the second," he said, lowering himself down further. He moved Buck's hand from his erection and swiped his tongue over the head, before taking the full thing in his mouth in one go. He started to bob his head quickly, his tongue sliding along the underside of his cock.

Buck

“Oh? What’s next on the menu—*ahh.*” It was half a noise of realization and half a moan. He let himself flop back down onto the mattress, tugging a pillow under his head to prop himself up just enough to watch King work. “Oh—*OH* that’s good, *oh YES.*” His own groans were easily as loud as King’s had been, although his dirty talk—what he could breathlessly get out between unfiltered moan—was less conventional. “You know, *most* people—“ he had to stop with a whine as he bucked up into King’s mouth, “—they’d prefer sixty-nining. But this—lets you watch and be watched. I—*hahh*—prefer that. Don’t you?”

King

"I certainly do!" King's voice was clear and crisp-- just as Buck's had been before.

"I'd much rather put on a show and what sort of show would it be without someone to watch+- or listen?" His head bobbed faster, and he chuckled, sending the vibrations through Buck's cock.

Buck

"*Oh,* so *true.*" His eyes narrowed to glowing yellow slits, Cheshire catlike. "I s-simply *need* an audience..." He was quickly losing his ability to carry on a conversation, or do much of anything but moan and gasp. He slung his leg over King's shoulder and gave himself up to pure noise and static. He was so close he could *taste* it. (Maybe he was tasting King.)

King

King could certainly taste it, and he hummed as his head bobbed, trying to give that little bit of extra stimulation to send him over the edge. His claws dug into his thighs, holding them down as he continued his work.

Buck

This time, when he spilled over, it was with a wail so loud it would be echoing through radio sets for miles around and a string of wild babble. There was something intoxicating about screaming his own first name as he came.

King

King swallowed down his load, sitting up as he licked his lips. He leaned down to kiss Buck, laughing against his lips.

"Third course?" He asked.

Buck

He shoved his tongue in King's mouth, getting a thorough taste of his own seed before he flopped back down. "*Please!*"

King

"Excellent. Do you have lube? We'll need to stretch you for me, I think," he said, smirking.

Buck

"We only need to if you're *into* that part of the process." Very few physical limits on a succubus. "But sure—I like this stuff, it's tingly." A snap and a bottle appeared in his hand.

King

"Oh? Good to know. I haven't fucked a succubus before," he said, laughing. He took the bottle and lubed himself up. King spread Buck's legs and lined up.

"Ready?"

Buck

"Really!" Now, that was a fascinating detail he'd have to ask about later. Much later.

He lifted his hips to give King a better angle. "Very!"

King

King placed his hand on Buck's hip, and pushed inside. He groaned, almost laughing at the feeling of the other around him. "You feel remarkable-- so welcoming, it's almost like you put out the mat for me!" He laughed more.

Buck

He immediately moaned, rocking against King, angling his hips to ensure King hit him *just* right. "Well—" he laughed shakily, "—you *are* my guest, and I do pride myself on being hospitable!"

King

King grunted as he pulled back and then thrust, laughing even as he did. "I think I'm the most welcome guest in Hell, then!" He continued to thrust faster.

Buck

"That's what I like to h—*ahh!*—hear!"

He met the thrusts as best he could, bucking his hips against King's, fists curled in the sheets hard enough to leave tears with his claws. Wasn't that a sight, King looking down at him while pounding him into the mattress. He hoped he was a sight worth looking at, but that was hard to control when each thrust had him seeing stars.

King

King found the perfect rhythm, the balance of speed and power that he knew would please, and stuck to it. His hand held to Buck's hip and he grinned wider, laughing in pleasure as he pounded the other.

"What a thrill, literally fucking myself!"

Buck

Buck laughed as well, a sharp, almost maniacal sound. "God, *isn't* it! Like watching a mirror but better!" A mirror couldn't watch you back.

He let out a particularly loud moan, "Oh, *f##k...* Like that, *just* like that—"

King

King panted as his hips snapped forward and back. His hand reached, and clasped around Buck's throat-- rough, but just holding-- and he turned his head aside to get to the smooth flesh of his shoulder. He buried his teeth deep, groaning into the bite and the taste of blood.

Buck

His hands flew to King's hand—not pulling it off but holding it in place—and he gasped sharply. The bite alone was almost enough to tip him over. He was desperate to return it, but—no, not with a hand around his throat. That said *stay down, stay put.*

"I'm gonna..." He laced one hand through King's hair, gasping, "Let me see your face when I come."

King

King's teeth released and he pulled back, mouth dripping blood. He stared down at Buck, panting as he continued to thrust, letting the other's blood drip onto his face and chest. His smile was a gruesome thing, but no doubt beautiful in it's own right.

Buck

Not much more gruesome than Buck's manic smile and wild eyes as his own blood dripped down on him. He stared at King's face as long as he could until another orgasm forced his eyes to roll back, his fingers digging into King's hand and clenching in his hair.

King

King grunted and panted, fucking Buck through his orgasm, and then leaning down to kiss him. He spread the blood over the other's lips, fucking him harder than before, grunting with each thrust.

"Fuck..." He muttered.

Buck

He was too dazzled and oversensitive to think straight. He kissed back automatically, biting at the taste of blood, groaning into the kiss with each thrust.

King

King panted harder, edging himself closer with every thrust, until he let out a cry of his own and came. His hand spasmed around Buck's neck, closing hard, but briefly. He stayed inside as he poured himself out, and the laid on top of the other demon, a laugh in his lips.

Buck

His voice went silent as King squeezed, nothing but the hiss of dead air; but only for a couple of seconds. And then he was loudly panting, staring up at the ceiling as he fought to catch his breath.

"*Well.*" Pant, pant. "And who says missionary is *boring*?"

King

"Only those who don't do it right." King's answer came quickly, even as he panted too. He pushed himself up and grinned wider.

"So, I suppose I did well? Up to your snuff and all that? Am I to get a standing ovation?" He winked.

Buck

"That would require standing, so no. I'm going to bask in the moment, and you're going to get a supine ovation." He applauded. A hundred invisible listeners applauded along. Some of them whistled.

King

King laughed, finally pulling out to flop onto the bed next to Buck. He let out a sigh of contentment and tucked his arm beneath his head.

"Thank you, thank you very much," He said. "I think _you_ deserve a supine ovation as well." He flicked his free hand, and even more raucous applause started, filling the room.

Buck

He kind of wanted to climb on and put it back in.

Oh, the thought of such a large audience watching... He flushed deeply enough that it managed to peek through his bright red skin, beaming broadly. "You're *too* kind!"

King

"I think we both performed splendidly! Very deserving of applause." The sound of clapping faded away, and King reached to wrap his arm around Buck and pull him close against his side.

Buck

Oh. *Cuddles.* Cuddles always took him by surprise. He could manage, though. He'd had practice. He magicked on his underwear (he was still half hard, and that sort of thing tended to ruin cuddles) and settled in against King's side, playing his part, arm draped across his waist.

King

King, meanwhile, summoned up a fresh rolled cigarette, and a holder for it. The end lit with a spark, and the took in a long draw. He blew out the smoke, and hummed.

"Do you smoke? I hope you don't mine me doing so, I tend to like one after a good fuck. Cliche it may be, but it does feel nice."

Buck

He gestured permissively. "Go ahead. I don't smoke myself, always thought it might damage my voice." He shifted himself up onto one elbow. "I wouldn't mind a drink, though. You?"

King

"Oh, certainly, I'd love one." He smiled, leaning to kiss Buck's cheek. "Whatever your having will work for me."

Buck

Affection, now. That would take some getting used to.

He summoned up a couple of glasses and offered one to King. "Vodka cranberry?" Cranberry juice was good to drink after sex. He'd heard that somewhere.

King

"Mm, delicious." He took another puff of his cigarette, pushing himself further into a sitting position as he took the glass. He sipped and smiled.

"I have a question: did you ever have sex before you became a succubus? Or did you simply have the hankering after?"

Buck

"Never had it before then. Never had the slightest interest. And then all of the sudden I had the interest thrust upon me." He let out a long sigh—but the person to complain to about one's sex drive probably isn't the person one just had sex with, so he let it go at that. "What about you? Did you always have a taste for it or did you pick it up somewhere?"

King

"I had my curiosities in life, but never more than a passing interest. I had libido, but no one with whom I wanted to pursue it. I had other things to think of. And then I died and found a partner whom I did things because he wanted. Then more happened and that was no longer an option, but my appetites had grown-- so now I indulge them with whom I will. No one that I've found sparks the interest itself, it's more...." He paused, taking a drag of his cigarette as he thought.

"It's more like I have the urge to simply do it, and so I find someone who is also willing-- and all the better if they're beautiful, no? Beautiful and amiable and _flexible_." He laughed. "I take my pleasures where I will, with whom I will. I have some favorites, but mostly, I'm not picky."

Buck

A nod in agreement. Good, they were on the same page on that. "I can't say I've ever looked at anyone and wanted *them.* What I've wanted is *their* want for me. I'm sure some people would call me selfish, but, well, I have to give them what they want to get what I want, isn't that reciprocity?" He smiled wanly. "Whoever stoked your appetite did you a grave disservice. Now *that's* selfish."

King

"I wanted him, and it was such a strange feeling. In the end, though, it wasn't to be-- my ambition outweighed the feelings we shared." He took another puff, and then another drink.

"Now I have a favorite concubine of sorts-- he even uses it in his marketing, and believe me, it does him wonders. 'The King's Favorite!' splashed everywhere can really rake in the money."

Buck

"Huh." He considered that as he took a thoughtful sip, then shook his head. "No, never wanted anyone like that." And thank goodness.

"Hah! I bet it *would.* Who is it, anyone I ought to know? Probably not, if his preferred clientele is royalty, but."

King

"You might still! He seems to be famous in most universes I've seen. It's Angel Dust." He chuckled and shrugged.

Buck

"Oh, the—what's he—a movie star? The fuzzy pink one? I've seen him on posters." He tried to recall if he'd seen any of Angel Dust's pornos as he took another sip. "I suppose he'd be an expert, being a professional and all."

King

"Porn star, yes! Though, in my universe he does porn audio broadcasts and stage performances, as well as regular sex work." He chuckled. "He's very good."

Buck

"I believe you. I never watched much porn, though." A shrug. "It doesn't do anything for me. Just frustrates me."

Stage performances, though—he liked the sound of that. He'd have to look into whether that happened around here. Well—strip clubs, he supposed, but he was imagining a larger audience...

King

"Oh, I don't much buy into the video porn. Some of the audio can be nice to listen to-- but that may just be because I like his voice." He chuckled. "He's a wonder to see on the stage, though, I recommend that. Quite the showman!"

Buck

"Hmm. Does he sing?" Sexual stage shows didn't do much for him either. He already knew what the coy stripper was hiding under their panties. 95% of the time there were only, like, two options.

King

"Sometimes! He dances, and does these acrobatics, it's very lovely. Maybe I could take you to see one of his performances sometimes-- mind, I'm talking about my own universe's variation, I'm not sure if the others do the same."

Buck

"Oh... sure, if he's got a particularly remarkable show anytime soon." He wasn't totally sold yet, but friends should meet their friends' concubines, probably.

King

"I'll have to see what all he's doing soon, I'll let you know." King smiled, finishing off his drink and his cigarette. "You might like him, he's very good at what he does."

Buck

"Well, if I can't trust my own taste, whose *can* I trust?" He finished his own drink and poofed the glasses away.

King

"So, I'd like to know: have I satisfied your hunger, or do you want more?" He said, smirking as he tilted his head and banished the rest of his cigarette.

Buck

He gave King an incredulous—and delighted—look. "Are you *offering* more?"

King

King snorted, and waved his hand. "Of course! I'm not just a....one, two, three and done kind of man! I'm yours for as long as you can stand me, darling." He winked.

Buck

His eyes brightened with glee. "Remind me to put your number at the front of my little black book." He snapped his fingers and his underwear vanished again.

King

"Oh, be sure to," He purred, grabbing Buck's wrist to tug him close. "You on top this time. Ride me." He ordered.

Buck

"Yes sir, with *pleasure.*" He rolled over on top of King to straddle him.

They were going to be at this a while.

#akillingspreeinwhite #chat log

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boasamishipper · 6 years

Text

rise up and salute the sun

Summary: In which there are hangovers, dragon-print pajamas, and a misunderstanding or two. / Or, how Soren met General Amaya for the first time.

AVAILABLE ON AO3

“Sor-bear.”

A pause.

“Soren.”

Another pause.

“Soren!”

Quick as a flash, Soren’s hand flies up to grab Claudia by the wrist. Unfortunately he misses and ends up grasping at thin air for a few seconds before returning his arm to his side. Maybe if he’d opened his eyes he’d have made contact, but since he feels like he’d been trampled by every horse in the kingdom, he senses that opening his eyes isn’t happening anytime soon. “Shh,” he mutters. “Lower your...mouth siren.”

He can practically feel his little sister’s unimpressed stare. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” I wish. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel this awful. “I went out with some of the knights last night,” he says. Ha. Knights last night. That’s funny. He makes a mental note to tell that to his fellow knights once they wake up and crawl out of the alleyway they’d all passed out in. “There...may have been some drinking.”

“Soren, you know you have a delicate system.”

He opens his eyes, and Claudia’s expression painfully swims into view. Still, he’s not about to stand for that. Even if he is currently slumped against the wall outside his father’s office. “No I don't,” he says, hoping that he sounds a lot more confident than he feels. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“You’re wearing your pajamas.”

Soren looks down at himself. Huh. So he is. He does vaguely remember changing out of his armor before coming into the castle this morning, but he’d assumed he’d had the foresight to change into actual clothing, not his dragon-print jammies. Oh well. At least they’re comfortable. “What do you want, Claudia?”

“You know how Dad has that super important meeting later this week?”

“Sure.” Viren had only been talking about it for the last three days straight. “The one with the head general.”

“Well…” Claudia stretches out the word like a piece of chewing gum, giving it at least ten more syllables than it needs. “I just got a messenger hawk and I found out that the super important meeting was getting moved up to today and I gotta go find Dad and tell him before the general gets here and can you stay here until I get back?”

Soren blinks. “Uh—”

“Great, thanks!” Claudia throws her arms around him in a quick hug before sprinting off down the hallway, calling over her shoulder, “Be right back!”

Well. Okay then. Soren presses a hand to his forehead and walks into the office, collapsing behind the desk. It’s a pretty comfortable desk, actually. Not as comfortable as his bed, but still nice. He rests his head against the wood, closing his eyes and enjoying how cool it feels against his skin.

I’ll just stay like this for a few minutes.

Just a few minutes.

Just a few...

“Are you the unmitigated jackass that’s been talking to King Harrow about cutting off funding for the military of Katolis?”

Soren’s eyes snap open.

For a moment, all he can do is blink blearily and try to get his bearings even though it feels like his head is going to split open from the sheer volume of this interruption. Still, he makes an effort to focus. He’s still in his dad’s office, but he’s not alone anymore. Two people are staring down at him—a redheaded, frecklefaced man and a woman with short black hair and a scar on her cheek—and they both look pretty angry. Well, at least the woman does. The man looks like he’s not really one for confrontations.

After a few seconds of the three of them staring at each other expectantly, Soren realizes that they’re probably waiting on him for some kind of answer. “Um,” he says. “What is happening right now?”

The woman gestures something—is it a rude gesture? Even if it is, he’s too hungover to be insulted—and the man says, “I’m General Amaya.”

General—oh. Oh , right. The thing he’d promised Claudia he’d do. The favor while she went to go and get their dad. Where is his sister, anyway? She always manages to find their dad faster than he does. Still, he figures he can be semi-diplomatic while he waits for them to show up, so he says to the man, “You’re General Amaya?”

The man looks taken aback, as does the woman. She starts gesturing again, and the man says, “No, I’m General Amaya.”

Ooooookay. Well, that clears things up. Soren doesn’t know if it’s the hangover or the lack of sleep but he seriously has no idea what is going on here. Is the man General Amaya or isn’t he? And why is the woman looking at Soren the way his father does after he makes stupid jokes at dinner? “Help me, ‘cause I...I don’t…”

The woman tips her head back like she’s looking for help from above. Soren can relate. The man snorts and steps forward. “ She is General Amaya,” he explains, pointing at her with the air of a parent explaining why one and one made two. “I’m Commander Gren, her interpreter.”

Interpreter? Why would— oh . Soren fights the urge to facepalm as a wave of understanding finally washes over him. The woman is deaf, and the man translates her angry gestures—not insults, but sign language—into words. “Oh,” he says stupidly. “Oh, okay. I’m Soren.”

“You’re Lord Viren’s son?”

“Yeah.” He sits up straighter in his chair. He’d been hoping that the general knew who he was because of his prowess in knight training or because he was in charge of training Prince Callum (even if said prince was more interested in drawing pictures than drawing his sword in battle), but being known because of his father isn’t that bad. “And...you’re General Amaya.”

“What were you expecting?”

“...a man.” God, he hopes he doesn’t get relegated to stable duty for saying that.

Thankfully, General Amaya just looks amused. Or at least her interpreter does. The general looks as stoic as ever as she gestures to herself. “I’m a woman.”

As idiotic as he’s aware his next sentence is going to sound, Soren needs to clarify exactly what’s going on before he continues. “You’re the head of the Katolis military?” And—oops. That hadn’t come out exactly like he’d wanted it to. “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with that. Women are cool and the military’s cool and a woman leading the military is just—cool. Very cool. It’s cool.”

General Amaya raises her eyebrows so high that they almost disappear underneath her bangs, and Commander Gren does not look impressed. The general starts signing again, this time faster than before, and Soren admires the fact that the commander can translate without skipping a beat. “Yes. Anyway. I have three different sources, one from the Breach and two from the...”

Soren, who’d been in the middle of standing up from his chair so he could look the soldiers in the eye, stops, wondering why the general had stopped. “Everything okay?”

General Amaya signs something, and Commander Gren says, “Why are you wearing pajamas?”

“Me?” He’d have to be dumb to misunderstand the firm nods they give him, and he looks down at his dragon-print jammies with a wince. His head feels ready to split open, and all he wants to do is curl up in bed underneath a million blankets for the next century. Who invented cactus juice anyway? They should be stabbed. Soren wants to stab them.

General Amaya clears her throat, and Commander Gren gestures at him as if to say, “Well?”

“Right. Um, because—” Wait, is he allowed to tell General Amaya that he’d been drinking? He is still underage, and even if she’s not his commanding officer, she probably has the power to dismiss him and his dad will kill him if that happens. Maybe he can just play it off like a joke or something. “I, uh—I—tell you what, let’s…let’s just take a deep breath for a second while I try and remember, y’know, where I am right now…”

He walks around the desk, and the general covers her nose. “Are you drunk?”

Well, so much for that idea. Giving them both a sheepish grin, he mumbles, “I have a very delicate system.”

General Amaya just sighs like the weight of the world rests personally on her shoulders—which, he supposes, as the head general of the Katolis military, it kind of does. She begins to sign, and Gren begins translating at once. “Okay, look, I’m being perfectly serious about this. Ever since the egg was destroyed, there has been more danger around our borders than ever, and I want to know why your father is trying to convince King Harrow that his studies need more funding than the military.”

Just as Soren is trying to decide how to respond to that, there’s a knock on the door. Commander Gren turns around, followed by General Amaya and Soren, who almost cries tears of relief to see his sister and father standing in the doorway. “Hi,” Claudia says cheerfully. “What’s going on?”

“General Amaya, Commander Gren,” Soren says, “this is my sister Claudia. Claudia, this is General Amaya and her interpreter Commander Gren.”

Claudia waves, and Viren steps into the room, easily slipping into what Soren likes to call his smooth politician mode. “General Amaya, I apologize for being so late. Soren, Claudia, you may go.”

Thank the deities. Soren practically flies out of the room, managing to get halfway down the hall by the time Commander Gren finishes saying, “If we could get down to business?”

Claudia catches up to him right away, and Soren glares at her as best as he can around his headache. “Well, that took you long enough.”

Claudia doesn't look remotely apologetic. Then again, he should’ve expected as much from his annoying younger sister. “They were making jelly tarts in the kitchen and I got distracted.”

Sure enough, there are jelly stains on her robes. Probably persimmon. Soren wonders if Prince Ezran and Bait had been down there with Claudia, all three of them stuffing their mouths full of pastry while he’d been getting humiliated upstairs. She owes him big-time. Big enough to manipulate the laws of magic and invent something to cure his hangover. “Do you have any idea how dumb I looked in there?”

“No more than usual, I bet.” Soren sticks his tongue out at her, and Claudia does the same. Then her mischievous expression turns thoughtful. “So the head general is a woman.”

“Yep.”

“And she’s deaf.”

“Yep.”

Claudia nods decisively. “Cool.”

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp fic #tdp soren #soren #tdp amaya #aunt amaya #general amaya #tdp gren #commander gren #tdp claudia #claudia #tdp viren #viren #amayagren #my fics #my writing #my first fic in the fandom y'all!!

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dimensionhoppingrose · 7 years

Text

In My Veins (7/?)

Title: In My Veins Rating: K+ Pairing: Ten/Rose, human AU Summary: –Telepathic bond soulmate AU– Everyone kept saying kids couldn’t develop telepathic bonds, that it was completely impossible. John Smith and Rose Tyler defied the impossible.

Notes: Well I finally managed to hash out a soulmate AU enough to be happy with writing it. All the blame for this entire story goes to @lastbluetardis, who not only encouraged it, but also allowed me to yell at her about it until I was happy enough to start writing it. Blame her entirely.

Read it on A03

Catch up on Tumblr

John: 16

Rose: 14

Warning: Body image issues

God, why can’t you lose weight? The voice in the back of Rose’s head — the one that wasn’t John, the one John didn’t know about — taunted Rose as she stared dismally the scale she was standing on. She hadn’t lost any weight the last couple of weeks. How was that even possible? She’d been eating nothing but healthy food and she was running every single day. What more did she need to do?

What’s wrong? John broke Rose out of her melancholy thoughts, and she quickly stepped off the scale, grabbing a towel so she could finish drying off from her shower.

Nothing’s wrong.

You seem upset. He could always feel when she was upset. It made Rose a little nervous.

Just tired. Long day. Don’t think I did well on that science test.

Really? I’m sorry. I’ll try to help you study more next time, John promised. You just seemed like you really had it down.

Yeah. It’s alright. It’s just one test, not a huge deal. Rose finished drying off and put on her robe so she could get to her room and change. She really needed to take some time to practice tonight, her last band rehearsal had been awful. It just felt like she didn’t have time for music anymore. She was spending a lot of time running, and she had homework, and her family always seemed to have something going on…

Tonight was a blissfully quiet night. Jackie and Pete were out, leaving Tony and Rose on their own (or as on their own as they could be with an entire staff of people). They’d let the cooks go home early and the kids order a pizza, which Rose had let Tony have most of. There were way too many calories in pizza, and she was having a hard enough time losing weight as it was.

And yet her stomach was still growling loudly as she changed into her pajamas and got out her flute, putting it together so she could try and get a little practice in. She was so tired, and her bed looked so inviting…

Half an hour of practice, she told herself. Then you can go to bed.

What? Oops. Apparently she’d told John as well.

Talking to myself. Sorry. The line between Rose and John was starting to get blurrier. Not that Rose minded — she loved having John in her head. It was the only comfort she had sometimes.

It just meant that talking to herself wasn’t really talking to herself anymore.

We need to develop a code, John said thoughtfully. Like, you say banana before you talk to yourself so I know not to listen.

Why banana?

Why not banana?

Because literally any other word is better.

What do you have against bananas? John sounded offended. Rose rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh.

I have nothing against bananas. I just think you like them a little too much.

Rose Tyler, I’m disappointed in you. You should know there’s no such thing as liking bananas too much.

Oh shut up and listen to me practice if you want.

Ooooooooh, yes please!

Having John actually in her head — instead of just being a ghostly presence — had become a little more comfortable. It still felt weird when he eased his way into her mind, but it no longer left the two of them with a blinding headache after he left.

And it was nice. But that was no surprise.

Rose put the flute to her lips and started playing.

* * * * * * * *

Do you ever wonder what I look like?

Rose was lying in bed, trying to sleep. She was tired, but sleep just wouldn’t come. She suspected it had something to do with how hungry she was.

Apparently John couldn’t sleep either. No surprise. Usually he was the reason Roes was still awake.

Hmmm? Rose said, blinking as she turned her attention to him.

I mean, we’ve been talking for six years. I kinda know what you look like from magazines and stuff, but your parents are always blocking the camera.

I’m sure you could find better pictures of me online. One of the “perks” of having a famous father.

I don’t want to, though. The answer surprised Rose. I mean, I want to know what you look like, John amended quickly. But I want you to be the one to show me. I don’t want to go looking it up online like some kind of creep. That’s weird. Also, you never answered question.

Right, the question that had started this. Rose curled up a bit tighter in bed. I kinda feel like I know what you look like, she said after a minute. I mean, I don’t know specifics or anything, I just… get these feelings. Like I feel like your tall, and you have brown hair that you probably never comb. Stuff like that.

Same, John admitted. But it’s not the same as actually seeing each other face to face.

Rose’s heart skipped a beat. Do you… want to meet each other face to face? She asked slowly.

Oh, I’d love to. He sounded so sincere and innocent. I don’t know how we would, though.

Yeah, that was a problem. Neither of them drove, and Rose had an escort basically everywhere — another “perk.” She’d have a hard time explaining why she wanted to go see a sixteen-year-old boy she didn’t appear to have a single connection with.

Maybe when I’m eighteen, she said with a sigh. I’ll be in university, then, and I really want to live on campus. Maybe I’ll get a bit more freedom then.

Yeah. John sighed.

Are you disappointed?

No, no! John said quickly. It just sort of sucks we can’t see each other. I mean, I guess we could tell people about our bond, we’re probably old enough now that people might listen to us, but…

His voice drifted off. He couldn’t put into words what he meant, but Rose understood. She didn’t want to tell anyone either. She didn’t know how her parents would react to finding out she had a soulmate bond with someone — they were already trying to set up with friends’ kids. What would they say when they learned that option was off the table? That she had a bond with some stranger they had never heard of?

Rose liked what she had with John. She liked this little secret. Their secret. She didn’t want to ruin it just yet.

I do want to see you, Rose said after a moment, sighing faintly. I just don’t know how.

John fell quiet for a moment. Phones! He exclaimed after a moment. We can exchange numbers! I can send you a picture!

Rose lit up. Brilliant! She grabbed her mobile, quickly telling John her number. A moment later, her mobile buzzed as an unfamiliar number texted her. She opened the text, and found herself looking at a picture of John for the very first time.

Oh god, he was so handsome. His hair was on end, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times, his eyes a sharp brown, lit up and so happy.

He was far too good for Rose.

Your turn! John said happily. I mean, if you want.

I do! Rose assured him. Hang on.

She flipped on her light and ran to grab her brush, quickly brushing out her hair. It was a complete mess — she had been tossing and turning for hours. She put on just a bit of makeup, trying to move fast before John questioned what could be taking her so long.

Finally she was ready. She turned on her phone camera and turned it to face her, snapping a quick picture. She still thought she looked pretty awful, but she sent it to John anyways, bracing herself.

John’s reaction wasn’t verbal. It washed through Rose’s mind, completely and utterly awed, and quite honestly it stole Rose’s breath away.

You’re…beautiful, he finally said, and it was impossible for Rose to think he was lying. She had felt his reaction, after all.

Really? Her voice was small and uncertain. Could he really think that?

You are! But do you sleep in makeup? That’s kind of silly.

Rose giggled a bit as she hurried to the bathroom to wash the makeup off. No, I just put a little on. I look better with it.

I doubt that, John protested. Come on, send me another one. Pleeeeeeeeeeease?

Rose couldn’t say no to that. She returned to her room and reluctantly took another photo, sending it to John. See, told you, John said happily. You’re beautiful without makeup, too.

Rose blushed deeply, ducking her head. She still didn’t quite believe him. But he was so adamant…

It made her feel a little better, at least.

Her phone buzzed again, and she opened her texts to find a picture of John make a silly face at the camera, and a message that said, “You’re thinking too much!”

Rose laughed, taking a picture of herself sticking her tongue out and writing back, “Look who’s talking. You dream about your books eating you!”

* * * * * * * *

John smiled, a bit stupidly, at his mobile. He had made his background one of the pictures Rose had sent him. She was currently “absence” (she had been dragged off to a dinner by her parents, and unfortunately she had to pay attention. John could feel her boredom, but they couldn’t actually talk), and having the picture to look at made him miss her a little less.

Of course, he was well aware of how creepy this would see to anyone on the outside who saw his background. People knew Rose; they would probably see him as some kind of crazy stalker person, lusting after the beautiful Vitex heiress who didn’t even know he existed.

Honestly, the thought of that kind of amused him.

He returned his attention to his drawing — now that he had an actual good shot of Rose’s face, drawing her had become so much easier. Not that he could ever do her justice — she was beautiful, and no amount of pencil or shading could capture that. But drawing her had become a pastime for him. It relaxed him, and helped him clear his mind.

Hopefully Rose wouldn’t think it was too creepy.

John twiddled his pencil between his fingers, chewing on the eraser. It was a bad habit he really had to work on. After a moment he closed the sketchbook with a sigh, picking up his mobile so he could look at the real thing.

God, he loved her so much.

It wasn’t something he got to think about much — he didn’t want Rose to intrude on his thoughts and freak out, after all — but it was true. It wasn’t just because of their bond, either; there were plenty of cases of people who had some sort of soulmate bond and just didn’t fall in love. That wasn’t what this was, though. Rose made John happy. Thinking about her made him smile, no matter how bad of a day he was having. He could talk to her for hours on end, and never get bored or want a way out of the conversation (which happened with basically anyone else, even Sarah Jane). She was smart, and funny, and easy to talk to, and beautiful inside and out.

And John loved her.

A bolt of annoyance shot through John, and for a moment he panicked, thinking Rose had caught him in his thoughts. What’s wrong? He asked.

Mum is making me eat dessert, Rose grumbled back.

But dessert is the best part of dinner! That’s why you eat dinner, to get to dessert! John said exuberantly. What’s dessert?

Chocolate cake! There’s a ton of calories in chocolate cake, and she’s still making me eat it.

John frowned at that. Are you… on a diet or something? That didn’t make much sense to him. She was already bone thin, what weight could she possibly need to lose?

I just don’t want to eat chocolate cake, I don’t see what the big deal is, Rose said, annoyed. John made a face. He’d noticed Rose had been a pit pickier about her food lately — what she ate, how much she ate, and so on — and honestly had just assumed she was on a diet. But after seeing an actual picture of her… she didn’t need to lose weight. She was fine just the way she was.

So what was going on with her?

#ficandchips #dwau #dwfic #dw fic #in my veins #unsurprisingly I didn't want to post this #but whatever

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pbpress · 4 years

Text

Blood Candy: Chapter 3 and 4

By Ruqayyah Pickel

Chapter 3

“And that’s why I’m even more sick of this vampire nonsense than usual,” I finished telling Seb. “That Oliver kid was something else. This better be a city-wide April Fool’s joke; if I hear one more thing about vampires, I will push you out of this seat and crash this car.”

“Sure you will, buddy,” Seb laughed. “Actually, no, you probably will…the second you put your hands on the wheel, this car’s gonna be like nope and crash into a building just to put itself out of its misery.”

“Love it when my friend’s own car hates me; I must be doing something right. Now shut up and eat this candy I got from Jasper,” I sighed, lightly shoving the wrapped candy in Seb’s mouth.

“Hey don’t distract—CANDY!” Seb cried. I kid you not, he literally pulled over in order to open it, then got back on the road once it was in his mouth.

“So?” I asked. “How is it?”

Seb nodded.

“It’s good!” he said, sucking on the candy.

“Glad you like it.” I smiled. We sat in silence for a bit.

“Seriously, this candy is amazing,” Seb said suddenly. His tongue--and even some of his teeth--were stained red. “Even someone who doesn’t have a sweet tooth would enjoy it! Next time you go in for an appointment, you gotta ask Dr. Kermit what’s in these and where he got ‘em.”

“I will, buddy. I will,” I said. I began to doze off as Seb was wrapping up his tangent, still a bit drained from the blood work. My nap was interrupted when I heard a car horn blare as I jolted awake to find a truck swerving out of our path.

“Dude, you good?!” I asked Seb. “You gotta be more careful, man. Geez, I shoulda never given you that candy.”

Seb didn’t say a word. I sighed and went back to my nap.

The same thing happened a few minutes later.

“Seriously, Sebs, you gotta be careful,” I repeated. “Are you even listening to me? Helloooo?”

Again, he didn’t speak. Once more, my attempted nap was interrupted by a car horn and a car moving out of our way. The driver in the other car yelled, “watch where you’re going!” I turned to Seb. His expression was blank, and he just kept driving.

“Dude, you’re gonna get us in a crash!” I cried. “Screw it. Pull over! I’m calling an Uber.”

To my surprise, he did. I got out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, Seb’s car went forward, but I barely managed to get onto the sidewalk in time.

“WATCH IT!!” I yelled. “Are you trying to kill me?! What was in that candy, dude?!” I groaned as I ordered the Uber. Once I did, I turned to Seb, who stared at me blankly…almost longingly, actually. His mouth was open slightly, as if he were in some sort of a daze, revealing his stained teeth. The candy was a vibrant red color, but for some reason, his teeth were stained with a darker red color. It was...off-putting, to say the least, but I was far too angry at Seb to even think of it for more than three seconds. He had no right to look at me so stupidly like that without any sort of apology or explanation. He looked as if he had no clue what I meant or what he was even doing, but Seb, even in all his mindlessly idealistic, failing-at-least-two-classes glory, was much smarter than he seemed. He had to be, if he could weave together elaborate conspiracies by connecting points that were otherwise unrelated. Many of my friends were smart people--to an extent--and I intended on keeping it that way for a while.

I did notice, however, that Seb also looked rather tired all of a sudden. His skin looked just a bit paler than usual, and there were some slight bags under his eyes. It looked like he had been tearing up. This was...strange, to say the least, considering he was just as energetic and cheerful as always a few minutes ago. Why the sudden change?

“Don’t look at me like that, Sebs…” I sighed. “That candy better not be drugged. We’ll talk later…I’ll meet you at home, dude.”

Seb drove off, but ended up just turning to park not too far from where I was. I rolled my eyes, thinking Seb probably just wanted to follow me home.

Finally, the driver arrived and I climbed into the back seat as per usual. I greeted him, of course, but aside from that, the two of us didn’t speak to each other.

The drive was fairly peaceful—in comparison to driving with Seb, at least—until the cab driver looked in his rear view mirror.

“That car behind us is awfully close…” he commented. I turned around, looking out the back car window to find Seb in his car. I growled in frustration.

“He’s been acting weird today…” I said. “Just keep driving, and be careful. I’ll talk to him at—“

Suddenly, Seb’s car pulled up next to us on my side, blocking the entire lane. I was so startled that I nearly jumped out of my seat.

“I haven’t exactly studied the driver’s manual in a bit,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure this is a serious violation of traffic safety.”

“You wouldn’t be far off,” he said. I looked at Seb, who was staring intently at me. At this point, the two cars were practically clashing. We stayed like this until we finally left the lane, and Seb continued to tail us home. I tried my best to ignore it; if I survived the drive then I could yell at him at home.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I sighed, tipping the driver $20. “Here. For your trouble.”

The cab driver, who already looked exhausted, gave me a smile.

“Thanks,” he said. “Have a good day…and please deal with your friend.”

“I will,” I replied. “You have a good day, too...or at least a better one than mine.”

Seb got out of his car just as I got out of mine. The two of us walked back to our apartment in silence until we got home.

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

[Chapter 4]

Once we got inside, the pent-up anger and fear during that Russian Roulette game of a ride home was finally let out.

“Seb!” I cried. “What the living crud were you thinking?! You almost got us killed several times! Okay maybe it could’ve been a minor injury at best but STILL! What’s wrong with you!? You better at least have some semblance of an explanation or I will freakin’ MURDER—“

“Murder?” Seb asked, looking up at me. His expression was blank.

“Okay, not really…” I reassured him. “You’re my best friend, Seb. It’s been that way for years, man…but I just wanna know what happened—“

That’s when I got a good look at his eyes.

The whites of his eyes had turned pink, almost as if he had pinkeye—or worse.

“I…” I was speechless. Maybe he had gotten sick? That would explain why he was acting strange today…perhaps the near-crashes were just him dozing off or being weak from whatever sickness he had.

“Okay, you look horrible, buddy,” I said. “I’m sure you’re just sick…sorry I yelled at you. I-I’m gonna call the doctor, okay? Stay here. Might also go for a walk, too. Go lie down, Sebs.”

I grabbed my phone off the table and headed outside, dialing the doctor’s office while wondering what would’ve happened--if anything--if I ate the candy like I was probably supposed to. I remembered Seb saying he wanted to see Dr. Kermit next time he went in to the doctor’s, but I had a slight suspicion that he was not to be trusted.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Jasper’s younger brother had said, “you won’t come back here.”

That, plus his comment about Jasper chasing him around with a syringe and trying to stick him with it…it gave me a bad feeling about the supposedly charismatic yet eccentric doctor. I wasn’t sure where it came from; there’s a perfectly good explanation for why Seb had gotten sick. He could’ve been allergic to something in the candy and I just didn’t know.

I decided to give Jasper the benefit of the doubt, and called the doctor’s office anyway. The only other one nearby was on the other side of town, and I was fine as long as I didn’t get an appointment with Jasper.

“Hello?” I said into the phone.

“Yooo,” a familiar voice said on the other end of the line.

Jasper?!

“O-oh, hi…” I stammered. Just my luck. “D-didn’t expect you to be on the other end of the line…”

“You sound disappointed, Dakota,” Jasper teased. “So, what’s up? Need another blood drawing? Or did your friend want more candy?”

Why was he so focused on that stupid piece of candy? Then again, now would probably be the best time to ask him about it...

“Well, uh…that’s the thing,” I said. “My friend got sick today…looks like he has pinkeye and his driving skills seemed to be impaired…we almost got into a crash multiple times. Might have been an allergic reaction to whatever was in that candy. I think he may need an appointment…”

“I can come take a look at him,” Jasper offered, almost insistently.

“O-oh, thanks, but, while you’re on the line I was wondering if…maybe you can check the ingredients of that candy? See if there’s any allergens?”

There was silence for a bit, then Jasper chuckled darkly.

“Well, there’s no fun if I just tell you,” he said. “You should come down here and figure it out for yourself.”

At that point I had enough. If something in that candy got my friend sick, then there was absolutely no time to be messing around.

“This is serious!” I shouted at the doctor. “My friend is sick, probably because of something you gave him! Whether it was on purpose or not, you have to fix this! Or at least help to some extent! Tell me what’s in that—“

“If ‘sick’ is what you wanna call it, kid,” Jasper said, “then maybe your friend needs a treatment.”

“What do you think I’ve been asking for this entire time--”

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. In fact, it may be better if you don’t.”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped.

“You’ll figure it out in time.” Jasper chuckled again before hanging up.

Well, I didn’t have time for this. I was practically seething at this point, so I decided to just go back inside and deal with Seb myself.

“So Jasper was absolutely useless,” I sighed, sitting on the couch next to Seb. I then decided to move to the other end away from where he was sitting. He still appeared to be in a daze.

“Look, buddy,” I sighed. “I’ll look after you for now. I couldn’t get an appointment, and Jasper was too busy being cryptic—something about me doing nothing in order for you to get your treatment—but I think something in that candy made you sick. Just…get some rest, I’ll bring you some water, and I’m gonna go work on my essay for the rest of the day.”

I grabbed a metal water bottle from the cabinet and filled it almost completely with water. I then got Seb a blanket and put it over him as he begrudgingly laid down on the couch. I set the water bottle on the floor beside him and went back to my room, giving a sad little wave as I closed the door—and locked it.

It really didn’t help that I had to write an essay on Dracula of all things…in all honesty, I didn’t want to hear anything about vampires ever again.

#poetryfiction #ruqayyah pickel

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musicprincess655 · 5 years

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Kazuya woke slowly to a pounding head, a churning stomach, and soft lips at the nape of his neck. Still half-asleep, he settled back into the warm body pressed against his back.

Then his memories of last night flooded back in and he woke up the rest of the way with a jolt.

Sawamura’s arm around his waist was heavy, and while Kazuya’s jump had stopped the kisses he’d been dropping on Kazuya’s neck, he hadn’t gone far, nose still pressed to Kazuya’s hairline. Kazuya shifted, turning to face Sawamura, scooting away in the hopes it would give him the distance he needed to have this conversation.

It didn’t.

“How much do you remember about last night?” Kazuya asked quietly, still close enough that Sawamura wasn’t blurry. He certainly remembered bare skin and tongues and hands and lips, even though he’d apparently had enough to drink that the details were hazy. Sawamura had been just as affected, though, so maybe Kazuya had an out.

“A lot,” Sawamura said. “Enough. I don’t remember everything, but I know what happened between us.”

He slid the hand that had fallen on the small of Kazuya’s back up to rest on his neck. Sawamura gave Kazuya a sleepy smile, and all Kazuya wanted to do was sink down, enjoy the moment.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened,” he said. Sawamura frowned, like he’d finally realized something was wrong. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me,” Sawamura protested, and Kazuya tried to pretend it was the lingering sleep in his voice that made him sound like he was about to cry.

“You’re nineteen, and you were drunk…”

“We were both drunk!” Sawamura cut him off, and there were definitely tears in the corners of his eyes. “And what does my age have to do with anything?”

“I’m almost twenty three,” Kazuya said. “That’s four years, that’s…”

“Nothing!” Sawamura interrupted again. “Four years is nothing! We’re both adults, it doesn’t matter!”

“You’re not an adult here,” Kazuya said weakly, trying to hold onto the illusion that the reason Sawamura scared him so much was his age, that it wasn’t really himself he was so scared of.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m too young for you,” Sawamura challenged. Kazuya opened his mouth, because he had to, he had to.

“You…”

“I think it’s because you don’t wanna deal with your feelings,” Sawamura said in the silence as Kazuya trailed off. Someday Kazuya was going to kick Kuramochi’s ass for teaching Sawamura basic psychology. “But that’s not fair, Miyuki Kazuya!”

It wasn’t, but neither was dragging Sawamura into a relationship with him. Sawamura deserved someone who’d actually be open with him, treat him right, instead of hiding behind a wall that had been up since Kazuya was twelve and realized his dad was never coming back for him. The wall hadn’t come down even when his dad had proved him wrong. He’d learned his lesson hard and fast.

“I’m not what you want,” Kazuya said. “I can’t do relationships.”

“Of course you are,” Sawamura scoffed. “And what does that even mean? We’re already partners, what changes if we’re in a relationship? Other than kissing, I mean.”

Kazuya didn’t know. That was kind of the problem. But he couldn’t help the way he gravitated towards Sawamura, the way he always had, first as a teammate and damn near rival and then as a friend, as a partner. And now, with Sawamura’s face far closer than Kazuya remembered allowing, and Kazuya entirely unable to pull away.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kazuya admitted.

“Neither do I,” Sawamura said. “But isn’t it better to work on it together than hide it alone?”

Kazuya couldn’t argue with that, mostly because he was so, so tired of trying.

He let Sawamura draw him closer, let his fingers creep up between Sawamura’s shoulder blades. A relieved breath gusted over the top of his head.

Kazuya leaned his forehead against Sawamura’s chin.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”

“I really like you, Miyuki Kazuya.”

“Yeah I got that.”

Sawamura huffed again, and Kazuya couldn’t help but smile.

“I like you too.”

Kazuya’s stomach chose that moment to start protesting again in earnest, and Kazuya groaned as he buried his face under Sawamura’s head to hide from the light.

“How did we both get that drunk?” he complained. “I didn’t even finish one drink.”

“I’ve never felt that drunk,” Sawamura told him. “I would remember if anything happened we weren’t okay with, though.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Kazuya said. He could remember last night enough that he wasn’t worrying about what he might have done. Not yet, anyway. The freak out over suddenly being with Sawamura was postponed until he could think around the pounding in his head. “Did someone notice us and drug us?”

“I remember Kuramochi putting us in a cab,” Sawamura said. “He wouldn’t have left us alone if we were drugged, right?”

“Probably not,” Kazuya agreed. He sighed. “We can’t do this now. I need water. Just...so much water. And maybe coffee.”

“Is it that bad?” Sawamura asked, finally leaning out of his space to roll to his feet. Kazuya tracked the long lines of his body through half-lidded eyes as he moved around, gathering up clothes. “I don’t feel sick or anything.”

“Figures you wouldn’t get hangovers,” Kazuya whined. “That’s not fair.”

“Do you want me to bring you water? You could stay here?”

Kazuya was ready to kiss him again for the suggestion alone. Unfortunately, he would probably feel a lot better if he stood up and moved. Kazuya groaned, heaving himself up into a sitting position. As soon as his head stopped spinning, he opened his eyes.

Just in time to catch Sawamura pulling a shirt over his head, muscles bunching with the motion. Kazuya’s mouth went even more dry.

“Do you wanna just borrow clothes?” Sawamura offered, voice uncharacteristically low. It was doing wonders for Kazuya’s ability to focus. “You don’t really look up for a walk to your room.”

They were close enough to the same size ever since Sawamura had grown taller than Kazuya, but his pants still fit a little tight around Kazuya’s legs. It was gratifying in a pretty juvenile way.

Kazuya didn’t bother with anything in the kitchen but the water filter, not even stopping to get a cup. He just tipped the pitcher back, gulping the water down, not even caring when it spilled down his chin.

“Gross.” Kazuya hadn’t noticed Kuramochi, sitting at the counter and giving him a sideways look. “That shit really hit you hard, huh?”

“Yeah, did something happen?” Kazuya asked. “I swear I only remember having a few sips of that punch.”

“Extra strength,” Kuramochi said, as if that was an explanation. “Like, super extra strength. It was enough to get me drunk for a few seconds. It was weird.”

“Great.” If it had been enough to affect Kuramochi, it was no wonder all of Kazuya’s inhibitions had been thrown out the window.

“Coffee.” Sawamura pushed a mug into Kazuya’s hands. Kazuya was ready to marry him on the spot.

“You look so stupidly in love,” Kuramochi said. “Was the sex that good?”

Kazuya raised one eyebrow, waiting for Kuramochi to realize he’d made the jab at Sawamura’s expense. Sure enough, Kuramochi’s cheeks flushed as he realized who was involved.

“And I’m done ever thinking about this,” Kuramochi said. “Congratulations on your eternal gay love.”

“Eternal love isn’t a joke!” Sawamura protested, and there was his volume. Luckily the water was hitting Kazuya’s system, and it didn’t make his head ring like it might have ten minutes ago. “It’s a beautiful thing! I hope you find something like it someday!”

“I should be so lucky.” Kuramochi’s tone was just a hair too dark for humor. Kazuya looked his way sharply. Well, as sharply as Kazuya could manage at the moment. “Anyway, Ryou-san said we’re meeting with Young Justice tomorrow. Apparently he found something worth sharing. He and Jun-san had a whole conference when we got back, and then he started his research thing.”

“You didn’t stick around to see what he found?” Kazuya asked.

“He works best when he’s not poked too much,” Kuramochi said. “When I asked this morning, he said he only wanted to explain himself once. And he was eating breakfast, so I’d say we have nothing to worry about.”

Kuramochi and Kazuya had kept a better eye on Ryou ever since what had happened with Sanada. So far, though, there hadn’t been any real cause to worry.

“So are we really the only ones that drank the Kool Aid?” Kazuya asked. Kuramochi snorted.

“Ryou-san figured it out first, and Jun-san was too busy talking to have any, but Tetsu-san had more than either of you.” Kazuya winced. If he still felt shaky, Tetsu had to feel like death warmed over. “Jun-san came down an hour ago and stole all our water bottles and some crackers. I don’t think we’re gonna see either of them for the rest of the day.”

“That’s fair,” Kazuya said. Now that he’d moved a little, hydrated a little, and most importantly, thrown some caffeine at his system, he felt more like a person.

And spending the rest of the day holed up in Sawamura’s room sounded way more appealing.

“I’m gonna go play video games,” Kuramochi announced with an eye roll in Kazuya’s direction. “Loudly. With headphones on. So no sounds that may or may not be happening in other rooms will filter to me.”

Kazuya was torn between insinuating dirty things he could do with Sawamura and protesting that what he actually wanted to do was go back to sleep and let Sawamura spoon him, which was entirely too sappy for this early in the morning. Before he could pick one, though, Kuramochi had already left the room.

“Hey.” Sawamura snaked his arms around Kazuya’s waist, and he just felt so huge when he curved around Kazuya’s back. “Do you wanna go back up?”

“What I want is about three more hours of sleep,” Kazuya said. He could feel heat rising in his face, but he leaned back against Sawamura anyway.

“Do you mean sleep or sleep?” Sawamura asked, voice dripping with honesty that was more alluring than any dirty talk could ever be. “Because I have a few ideas for sleeping positions we didn’t try last night.”

“Oh my God,” Kazuya whined, covering his face with a hand even though no one could actually see it. “Are you just gonna be this embarrassing from now on?”

“How will I get what I want if I don’t ask for it?”

“By not talking about our sex life in public.”

“There’s no one else here.”

“Ugh.” But Kazuya couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Maybe. If you let me sleep for a little first.”

“Fine.” Sawamura dropped a kiss on Kazuya’s cheek, letting him go. Kazuya turned, watching Sawamura turn back into the overgrown puppy of a boy he’d always been. Only now, Kazuya knew firsthand that Sawamura had other sides.

As sappy as it was, he wanted to be around to find more sides of Sawamura.

#miyusawa #kuraryou #daiya no a #dna #my writing #dc!au #inv

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