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dirtdriver5 · 2 years

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#會計師事務所

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blueparadis · 2 years

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'Cause I want you to like me.

+themes: fluff, humour.

+pairing : Shinichiro Sano & Wakasa Imaushi x f-reader

+cw : none

+type : oneshot

+wc :0.9kish

+au ' notes : boss! Shinichiro and Wakasa being Wakasa. This a part of au-dvent collab hosted by @kenzumekodma | navigation links.

+exclusive tags : @httptamaki for Shin & @ambrodias for Waka ;)

Wakasa laid out his palm infront you & you placed a lollipop in his plam. He gleamed in amusement exclaiming,"ahhhaa she's useful shin!", turning his head towards Shinichiro. The urge to click tongue at sheer irritation got sedimented as noticed a pair of dark orbs was constantly staring at you.

Shinichiro was seated in his chair while Wakasa was being an absolute tease to his concentration was sitting upon the table. Your moist palm felt cold as you rested them on your thighs; even though you were vividly clothed. "Okay! We'll get to work from tomorrow." Shin added."Thank you, Sir", was your reply.

It's been two months since you joined in as P.A. yet not a days goes by this ivory haired guy doesn't get on your nerves. He's always been seen following Mr. Sano with a candy pop rolling in his mouth, most of the time. While Shinichiro Sano, your boss is cooped up in his cave. He's kinda hard to read since he has a slight stoic expression. Since you joined you've only seen him smile this one time when Mr. Imaushi brought two of his friends along with him. One was quite bold and big statured yet the other one was slim , had a scar upon his eye. Sano sir sure has collected a queer guys.

And now here you are sitting in your cabin buried in the debris of paperwork. "This is not what I expected", you murmured. A knock on the glass door startled you. You noticed how the lolipop glided from one side to the of his mouth as you left the seat. You hurriedly made your way for opening the door. "All set for next week?",he asks as he dashes into your zone. "Yep! Almost there!" Wakasa surfs his hands through the paperwork scanning through all the mess. "Had your lunch?" You looked at your watch realizing it's been already past thirty minutes since the lunch break. The lilac orbs took notice of your clumsiness as you bit your lower lip in disappointment.

"I forgot!—um—Sir"

"Yah ! figured!"

You bowed down your face trying to hide your embarrassment but your eyes fell into the man in black to the other side of the glassy-cabin. There he was standing at the opposite of door,busy in a call yet his dark googly pupils glued onto two of you.

You turned your head towards Wakasa as Shinichiro dashed into the room. "Waka, you're fired!", he states in a slight fury. "But I don't even work here",he protests plopping up his toffee. At that moment, as Shinichiro's focus layed on you again your jaw dropped thinking how easily you got fooled by Wakasa whom you totally mistook as one of the board members; who was just close to Sano sir.

Shinichiro snapped his fingers at you."You! My room! Now!"— as those words left your boss' mouth you grabbed your paperwork, more like snatched it from Wakasa shooting a glare at him. "And now she's mad! You made her mad, Shin " Wakasa's voice drilled into your nerves as you faded into the corridor clenching your plams around the cluster of papers.

The silence in the room was too much too bear; a familiar set of footsteps echoed through the room as the man entered in your room; sitting on the table just like Wakasa the other day. Your eyes quickly scanned him and switched onto the papers.

"Anger doesn't look good on you, Miss L/n" he states. Before your lips could even part a few staff came in so as to stack a pile of files infront of you. Your eyebrows heaved yet the low growl from your stomach betrayed your composure. As they left the room, Shinichiro crouched over opening the shelf beneath him. A packet of waffled cookies came into display. "Here,have some!"

"No Sir! I'm good"

"Eat. I know,you didn't had your lunch today" ,he adds and munches a cookie placing the pack infront of you.

"Now, then shall we begin,y/n', he exclaims shoving his hands into the pockets.The heat flushed into your cheeks as his sudden calling by your name knocked your senses low.

"Most of it is done, I'm only left with the guest list for which I need -

"my help",he cuts you off folding his hands into his chest. You nodded in approval. You started looking for a fresh set of papers yet suddenly out of nowhere you blurt out,"Does he really not work here?"

' that's not what I wanted to say. That was such a stupid question. It's a good thing that annoying man won't be here or not. Why do I care but I should ask like that. Haha! Clumsy me!' , thoughts kept bubbling until your lips parted in order to inhale a short breath. "I shouldn't have asked that, sorry sir. I really am", you pleaded.

Shinichiro tapped the pencil at the corner of your hands on the collection of papers, diverting your attention to it. While your sheepish eyes looked down on the paperwork he took a sip from his coffee mug.

While you cursed yourself for asking such a baseless question he exclaimed," he is getting fired because of you", he pauses for you to get your attention. The tip of your hands felt cold as you tried to turn your head slightly still looking down; his bold tone perforated your curiosity as he completed the rest,"he's fired 'cause I want you to like me." A short giggle reached your ears.

"but that still doesn't answer my question!", you protest out of nowhere gaining his acknowledgement with a beautiful laughter. "Ahh !", he takes a breather continuing,"You really are unique!", he adds noticing your pout as you try to calm your exploding emotions framing the guest list chart. "I'm in a big mess", you pondered as he paused his chuckle, trying not to look at you after such a prankish comment.

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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29 for indruck nsfw? i am already amused thinking about what sport either of them would play

Here you go!

29. I’m a professional athlete and I just fired my personal assistant and my manager sent you over but you don’t even know what sport I play or who my team is

When you’re in an aggressive profession it’s best, in Duck’s experience, to be as calm and friendly as you can the rest of the time.

But this whole shit-show is testing his fucking limits.

It’s been two days since he found out his perfectly fine P.A was working for the Wallstreet Journal, hoping to learn that Duck was somehow using his T or his identity to gain an unfair edge in matched. Ned fired him on the spot, thank god, but it took less than twelve hours for the guy to publish some fabricated piece on his attitude and for Duck to remember why he needed an assistant in the first place. He’s gotten so used to having one that he keeps forgetting stuff or dropping the ball on appointments, and the last thing he needs right now is to look like some stupid hick.

When Ned texts him to let him know his new P.A is en route, Duck groans “thank fuck” loud enough to startle the cat from her tree.

He goes to the door when someone knocks, but doesn’t open it.

“Who is it?”

“Indrid Cold? I, ah, Mr. Chicane said this was Duck Newton’s address and I’m supposed to start as his assistant tomorrow.”

Duck opens the door, “Fuck tomorrow, you’re startin today. I gotta focus on strategy with Minerva the next two days if I don’t wanna show my ass Friday night and it’s real fuckin hard to do that with people callin me left and right.” He guides the startled young man inside, then stops to take a deep breath, “sorry, lemme try that again” he holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

“Likewise, Mr. Newton.”

“Duck is fine. It’s a nickname. You bring your stuff with you?”

“Yes, it’s all in my car.”

“Good. Here, lemme give you the, uh, the grand tour, so to speak, on the way to your part of the place.”

Indrid smiles and nods, hanging back slightly as Duck leads him through the house. They cover the living room, kitchen, Duck’s bedroom, then come what was once the garage door.

“This here’s the gym; you can’t find me in the rest of the house, I’m probably here.”

“Goodness” The other man’s eyes widen behind his red glasses, “that’s an impressive array. I mean, I know professional athletes need to train but I, ah, I assumed you did it on site with the rest of your team.”

“Team?” Duck closes the door, spots Indrid’s fingers diving into his pockets to hide their twitching.

“Yes.”

“Which team?”

“Your...sports team?”

“....you got no fuckin clue who I am, do you?”

“No.” Narrow shoulders sag in his sweater.

Duck chuckles, “Figures.”

The silver haired head snaps back up, “Mr. Chicane didn’t say it was a prerequisite for hiring me.”

“Guess he didn’t. And I guess it ain’t. Just hoped they’d hire someone who knew what the fuck he was gettin into.”

Indrid crosses his arms, “They gave me a very thorough job description. I assure you I can do every part of it. Laying out your pre-workout and scheduling appearances isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t matter if the dry cleaning I pick up is for a, a baseball after party or some sort of charity basketball fundraiser.” It dawns on the taller man that he’s just snapped at his boss. He contracts in on himself, staring down at his black converse.

Duck takes the chance for a more careful look; all of his clothes are second hand, chosen as if he’s cosplaying a jock who went into white collar work. There are piercing holes in his ears, flecks of silver polish on his nails. This job application was a hail mary and Ned Chicane went ahead and caught.

“No harm done, slim.” He rests a friendly hand on Indrid’s arm, “think it’s time I enlightened you.”

His office doesn’t get used much, so a sprinkling of dust greets them as he flips on the lights and reveals posters, magazine covers, and newspaper clips bearing Duck’s face. The gloves he used to win his first fight hang in a place of honor, right above the photo of him and the other fighters from Amnesty Boxing. It’s an older photo, taken the first time they sent a team out of state, sun-faded to the point the writing on it is disappearing. It makes him smile all the same.

“This does explain the set of instructions for helping you cut weight if needed.” Indrid takes in the posters, then turns his attention to the corner dedicated to Duck’s model ship collection. He cocks his head, says more to himself than Duck, “boxer. Interesting.”

“Were you just gonna bluff about knowin who I was until I said somethin?”

“That and look for clues in the rest of the house.”

He smiles, “Like a man with a plan b. C’mon, lemme show you your room.”

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

Alright, so Indrid should have researched Duck Newton before turning up at his house so he didn’t come across as ignorant and unprepared. But he was busy running every Taskrabbit and UberEat he could get just to scrape up enough to keep his landlord off his back. Sue him for not wanting to sleep in his car again.

He never expected to get this job; live-in P.A who doesn’t have to pay for groceries (buy them, yes, since that’s one of his jobs) is not the kind of luck he’s familiar with. He keeps waiting for the catch, so nervous that when Duck pops in on him unpacking he assumes he’ll scold him for his wardrobe.

“I, should I buy some more professional clothes?”

Duck takes in the two duffle bags and backpack, “Up to you. I don’t mind you lookin like the little art punk you are, but a dress shirt or two might help if we gotta go somewhere real upscale. Don't worry about buyin it yourself; just use the same card we do for groceries.”

Indrid is still hung up on why the fact a man three inches shorter than him calling him “little” makes his chest burn. Luckily, the phone rings and distracts him. Then it rings again. And again. And again. All while the inbox doubles every time he looks at it.

This turns out to be the catch; the work is actually hard. Everyone and their uncle wants to interview Duck, get him to sponsor something, or proposition him. Four hours in, he’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and ready to hide under the desk. His fidget necklace isn’t helping, so he pulls out his chewable one; it often helps him think in high pressure moments.

The phone rings again and he growls at it.

“You’re allowed to let things go to voicemail, y’know.”

He spins in his chair, black rubber moth still in his mouth. Duck leans in the doorway, tank top soaked in sweat and towel around his shoulders

“I, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to drop anything important.”

“Ned handles the fights and the money, and anyone I care about has my private number for emergencies.”

“Right. I knew that.” Indrid can’t have his boss thinking he’s a total space-case.

Duck smiles, “What I’m sayin is; ain’t the end of the world if you don’t get back to everyone right away. Besides, right now you need a lunch break, slim. Lemme go rinse off and I’ll join you.”

By the time Duck enters the kitchen in an old “NIN” shirt and jeans, Indrid has his protein bowl laid out for him and is finishing microwaving a hot pocket for himself. Before he can scurry away, Duck pats the seat beside him and Indrid sits down, preparin to politely listen to Duck talk about himself or his sport.

He talks for ten minutes about the trees he saw on his run that morning before asking Indrid what he did before coming to the house. Indrid explains about his art and his side hustles in tarot and palm reading, about the run of bad luck that saw him without roommates and lost him his steady gig at a coffee shop. Duck makes genuinely sympathetic noises, lets Indrid change the subject when the fact he was on the edge of disaster makes Indrid’s chest tighten. They’re still talking about music as Indrid returns to his desk and Duck goes to meet Minerva in the gym.

By the time Duck’s fight rolls around that weekend, Indrid is feeling much better. He has a system of sorting emails that works for him, some mothman stickers to help him organize the paper calendar on his desk, and more confidence in his ability to spot callers with ulterior motives. He’s shut down two separate ones looking to trap Duck into interviews where he’d be forced to defend his very identity. Duck overheard his responses to the second one and brought him back a fancy creme brulee latte from his breakfast as a thank you.

He doesn’t go to the fight; it’s a small one for charity and Duck has Ned to manage him, Minerva to train him, and Leo to coach him ringside. He doesn’t need his P.A. Instead, Indrid finishes up his correspondence for the day, makes sure Duck’s breakfast is all set in the fridge, and confirms the masseuse is coming in the morning.

Once in bed, Indrid gets sucked into the commission he’s doing and is lost to the world until a tired, satisfied face pokes through his door.

“Oh! Hello Duck. Did it go well? Do, ah, is there something you need from me?”

“Yep, I won like I thought I would. And nope; was just poppin in to say goodnight.”

No one’s said that to him in a long time. The bitterness of that realization is sweetened by Duck’s smile.

“Goodnight to you too, Duck.”

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

Minerva is sick, which wouldn’t be a problem except for one part of his workout. He could skip it, but he needs to keep everything sharp for when they go to L.A.

“‘Drid? You got a few minutes?”

His assistant appears in the doorway, black jeans and white “Cramps” tank-top fitting him in a way that makes Duck want to hold him face down on the floor and find out how to take his breath away.

“What do you need?”

Duck points to the heavy bag, “You up for bracin this while I hit it?”

“I...I am not as strong as Minerva.”

“You don’t gotta be; this is just to keep the damn thing from swinging while I’m doin this speed drill.”

“Alright.” Indrid takes off his glasses and sets them on the folding chair, joining Duck, “how do I hold it?”

Duck shows him, does a few test punches to make sure he won’t send the poor guy flying. The round clock dings green, and he’s off. The bag wobbles for the first few seconds, then Indrid seems to find his footing and holds it stable enough for the drill to work. When the round ends, Duck steps baack, “okay, you can let go until the next round.”

“Goodness.” Indrid stretches his hands, “I feel for your opponents. I’m jarred just from that.”

“You need to stop? I got two more rounds at least, but if it’s hurtin you I caan skip ‘em.”

Indrid shakes his head, smiling, “nono, I like helping you with this. It’s exhilarating.”

The bell dings.

“Glad to hear it. Now brace it again.”

By the end of round three, Indrid is panting loud enough for Duck to hear him over the fan. He looks up, glove still on the bag, and finds them face to face.

“Minerva said three to five rounds for this. You wanna keep goin?”

Indrid, breathless and grinning, nods, “Can’t have you slacking off, now can we?”

Duck wants to bite his lip, just to see what happens. Blames the thought on the adrenaline. Then discovers the exact same thought waiting for him when Indrid, cleaned and in his most respectable clothes, joins him in the car to go to an interview.

Ned gave the P.A a list of likely questions, so they practice those as they creep across the Bay Bridge. But Duck notices that on both the trip there and back, whenever there’s a lull in conversation Indrid is on his phone reading about boxing. Duck knows the other man fixates on topics that interest him; knowing one of Duck’s passions has earned that distinction makes him smile.

After that, he starts inviting Indrid to watch him train, or shares his thoughts about matches with him. That’s all it takes for Indrid to start drawing him into long, animated conversations about his sport. When Indrid asks why there’s such debate over the proper way to wrap hands and also how does Duck do his, Duck demonstrates.

“Here, ‘Drid, now you try it on me.”

The P.A moves the wraps slowly, deliberately, moving Duck’s hand like it’s a priceless treasure he’s readying for transport. Every time he bites his lip in concentration or brushes hair from his forehead, Duck has to remind himself to breathe.

“Done.” Indrid is still holding his left hand, “Did I do well?”

The boxer tests the wraps, wiggles his fingers and clenches his fists. Then he squeezes Indrid’s hand, “you did perfect, slim.”

Duck can wrap his hands in his sleep. But whenever he’s home, he finds Indrid and asks him to do the honors. Indrid does them every time. Perfectly.

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

Indrid stands in the green room with Ned and a cluster of arena employees. The roaring crowd a few walls away echoes through the screen. He’s never seen Duck fight, but this event required all hands on deck to handle P.R, scheduling, and making sure Duck had what he needed to win.

Duck and his opponent enter the ring. Touch gloves.

Indrid’s pulse climbs.

Then the bell sounds and no useful noises come through the T.V. Just the announcers shouting and being drowned out by the crowd. Indrid gives up on parsing the cacophony, focus only on Duck. He’s seen him practice, but in a true match he’s a different beast. His opponent is faster, that much is clear, but Duck is patient, steady, blocks and weaves until he can land blows that make Indrid hurt just watching them.

Duck is magnificent like this. Indrid has to draw him like this, has to capture this and keep it forever, he has to, he has…

He has a hard-on in the middle of the green room.

He sticks it out long enough to see Duck win and then bolts to the bathroom so it can be taken care of by the time the boxer is done with the post-fight interviews.

They go out to celebrate, and Duck never nudges Indrid aside to let someone more important sit next to him. And as the drive to the hotel, he nods off with his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

It only gets worse after that.

Duck will coax him into joining him for a run with the promise of a fancy breakfast. On cheat days, Duck orders food to the house or takes Indrid out to lunch, and somehow the thing he wants when not focused on macros is always the thing Indrid mentioned he’d been craving. He invites Indrid on hikes with him, starts taking him to all his events even though he seldom needs help or herding at them (“yeah, but it’s nice to have someone to crack jokes with”). And on days when Indrid needs to be alone, or wants to see other friends, Duck simply smiles and closes the door.

The most dangerous days are the ones without anything on the schedule. Then it’s all too easy for Indrid to pretend that they’re something they’re not while he draws at the table across from where Duck is building his model ship. Too easy to imagine that the water-wise garden Duck tends is something he put into their house, not his house that Indrid happens to live in. Too easy to admit that Indrid wants to look after him for no payment except being looked after in return.

Duck reciprocating his feelings is within the realm of possibility. Indrid’s caught him staring when he walks in on the P.A doing yoga, and the casual touches long ago made the leap from accidental to deliberate. He also knows that Duck can’t fire him--only Ned can--and hopes that might lead to the boxer slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him on the bed one of these days.

There’s also the tabloid site circulating a photo of them with a caption claiming he’s Duck’s “boytoy” in spite of them only being two years apart. They’re not even sitting that close in the picture; Duck’s just smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world, that’s all.

Currently, he’s having an easier time keeping his feelings buried because--ever since they landed in Vegas-- Duck has been a dick the rest of the day. Well, as much as a dick as he can be; his offenses are mainly snapping at people and lacking his usual patience.

When he scolds Indrid over something silly in the hotel that night, Indrid turns and stares at him over his glasses.

“Duck, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-uh, fuck, nothing, why do you, uh, fuck, I’m fine.”

“You just snapped at me in a way that was completely uncalled for.” He crosses his arms, “is it the fight? I know it’s a big one but that’s no reason to be rude.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I swear I won’t. Or, if I do, it will be after you leave.”

That gets a smile, “I’m uh, well, I’m what you’d call ‘horny as all fuckin get out.’”

Indrid’s immediate thoughts would solve the problem at hand while creating a new and far worse set, so he keeps them to himself and replies, “If need privacy, I can come back later and hold all your calls.”

“Nah.” Duck sits on the bed, “You’re not supposed to get off before a fight. Makes you too relaxed.”

“That strikes me as an old wives tale. Old boxers tale?”

“Either way, it’s one Minerva still believes. If I lose, she will ask about every possible cause, includin that one. Better if I just cat nap before I start all my pre-match stuff. Come get me in fort minutes?”

“Of course.” Indrid waves and closes the door before he offers to lay down in the hopes of Duck having a wet dream while holding him.

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

Duck wins, though it’s a tough battle to get there. He fucking hates these Pay-Per-View fights, they try to make it sound like he’s got beef with the other guy. In reality, once he’s down from a knockout, Duck is the one who helps him to the other side of the ring.

There’s a flurry of press afterwards, of questions and congratulations while all he wants to do is shower. He gets clean, promises Ned they can all go out to celebrate later. As he and Indrid finally escape to his suite he’s forced to admit that--if the thoughts of hitting the “fire” button and fucking Indrid against the wall are any indication--his problem from earlier hasn’t gone away.

“Do you need me to see if I can get a masseuse up here? You look very stiff.”

“Just uh, just tense.” Why did he tell Indrid he liked those jeans on him? He’s worn them as often as he can since.

Indrid cocks an eyebrow, “Still pent up even though the fighting is done?”

“Yep.”

The P.A shakes his head, hiding a smirk, “Do you need me to find something for you to watch?”

“No.”

“I mean it, this place has all the good channels.” He’s so earnest, picking up the channel guide like it, rather than those fucking jeans and shirt with Duck’s name on it, has what Duck needs.

“No.” He growls.

Indrid sighs, sets the book back down, “This mood is annoying us both, so just tell me what kind of porn you want and I can go out and buy it.”

“Unless they got somethin called ‘boxer jackhammers skinny artist until he cries’ we’re gonna be shit out of luck!”

The P.A blinks, “Duck, this is Vegas, I can probably find that. Or look for it on your laptop…” he trails off when their eyes meet. Duck knows he must look like he’s ready to jump him. Indrid licks his lips, “Duck? What, ah, what exactly lead to this situation?”

“You really wanna know, slim?” Duck steps across the carpet, notices Indrid padding over the black and blue patterns to meet him.

“Yes.”

Duck removes Indrid’s glasses, “Had a dream about you while I was on the plane. Woke up havin just finished fuckin you open. First thing I thought was “no big deal, ‘Drid’s right here. We can do the real thing once we get to the hotel.’ Then I fuckin remembered that we couldn’t, and I know for damn sure that if I jerk off I won’t feel satisfied because you’re be over there” he jabs his thumb at the door connecting their rooms, “so close and completely outta my reach.”

“So keep me right here instead.” Indrid purrs, fingers tentatively finding Duck’s hips. The light contact splinters his self-control and he practically tackles Indrid onto the bed, kissing him as the taller man moans and paws at his clothes.

The kiss takes the heat off enough to clear the steam fogging up his head and sits up, “This really okay?”

“I would have said if it wasn’t now for goodness sake please get back down here.” Indrid yanks him forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together. He’s humming and sighing every time Duck touches him, rolling his hips to display a quickly forming hard-on.

“Aw, sugar, you gettin excited just from kissin’?” Duck grinds down just to see him gasp.

“Y-yes. I, Duck, I’ve wanted this for months.”

The implication of those words slam his desire into overdrive, “You sneaky little thing, that why you kept runnin around in tight clothes?”

“Most of my clothes h-hang off me.” Indrid holds tight to Duck’s thighs as the boxer strips his shirt off, “but yes I, I did start wearing what you liked more often.”

“Ain’t that thoughtful. And what were you hoping would happen, slim?” Duck yanks his sweats off and kicks them to the floor.

“This.” Indrid’s eyes keep slipping down to stare at Duck’s dick.

The boxer strokes himself lazily, “like what you see?”

“So much.”

“Then how about a closer look, sugar?” He crawls up Indrid’s body to straddle his face. It looks even better than normal framed by his thighs.

“Do I get to touch too?”

Duck guides his hands onto his ass, “As much as you want. You gonna be sweet and let me fuck your face, or am I gonna have to hold your mouth open?”

Indrid opens his mouth instantly, a whimper creeping out of it as Duck strokes his hair. The sound morphs into a louder, but muffled, moan when Duck sinks down. He teases his dick against Indrid’s lips, drags slick across his chin, feels his jaw tremble with wanting to close. Duck shifts so his dick touches Indrid’s tongue, “get to it. Oh fuck” he braces a hand on the wall, “heh, didn’t know Ned screened for cocksuckin skills.”

Indrid shakes his head, brown eyes wide as Duck roughly rides his face.

“No? He didn’t make you demonstrate on some of the other fighters? Didn’t make sure you could make a whole gym cum to prove your mouth was good enough for me?”

“‘O” Indrid shakes his head again, silver strands sticking to the pillow as he kneads Duck’s ass in a way that makes him groan.

“Too bad for them. Because now they ain’t ever gonna get a chance.”

A whimper and write of the torso; Duck glances over his shoulder to watch Indrid buck his hips in the air, pre-cum clear on his crotch. His feet, still in their shoes, point and flex as he moans around Duck’s dick.

“You like that, don’t you sugar?” He threads both hands into Indrid’s hair, pinning his head down or pulling it closer as it suits him, all the while gently rubbing his scalp “like knowin’ that you’re doin well.”

A harder suck in reply.

“Then be a good little cocksucker and make me cum.” He holds his head down and let’s loose, grinding and grunting in pursuit of the heat that starts at Indrid’s tongue and is steadily curling up into Duck’s belly. The other man holds him tight, moaning and licknig and sucking until Duck cums on his mouth, the lasts bursts of it happening against a slackening jaw.

As soon as his legs cooperate, he climbs off and guides Indrid to sit up in his arms. His attempt to check on the other man is interrupted by a frantic kiss.

“I was gonna ask if you wanna keep goin’, but I think I got my answer.”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean please don’t stop yet. Please I, we can do whatever you like, we can do just this, you can drag me out on the balcony and fuck me in full view of the city-”

“Easy, slim, easy.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s start with somethin simple. Get naked and get comfy on your back for me. I gotta go grab somethin from down the hall.”

His memory turns out to be spot on; the vending machine on this floor has toiletries, including condoms and a travel bottle of lube. He buys ten of one and three of the other, drops them in the pockets of his robe and hurries back to Indrid. Sprawled on the bed, he looks painfully vulnerable, like someone who got used to life kicking him and telling him to stay down.

It’ll be different when they’re together, Duck can promise that much.

“Seem to recall you wanting me to keep you here.” He grabs a handwrap, holds it where Indrid can see, “how do you feel about me usin this?”

“Extremely good. Oh, oh hello.” He laughs when Duck rolls down beside him to pepper his face with kisses. The process of trapping his hands to the headboard is prolonged thanks to their mutual need to keep kissing every five seconds.

“Now” Duck kisses his shoulder, “I didn’t bring any toys to fuck you with, so it’s just gonna be my hand.”

“You say that as if it’s a disappointment to me and not incredibly sexy.”

“Some folks don’t think you’re fuckin ‘em unless you use somethin dick-shaped.” Duck shrugs with a flicker of sadness from the last time he had that conversation.

“Tell me who insulted your body or your skills in bed and I shall stand outside their window with a megaphone informing them of how terrible their manners are and how they missed out on the finest man in the world.”

“That’d be funny” Duck leisurely kisses his belly and hips before sitting up, “but you’d have to get outta bed.”

“True. Ah well, a sternly worded email will have do OOOh, oohhhyes.” He wiggles his hips as Duck presses in the first finger, relaxing under his touch.

“Get the feelin you’ve done this before”

“Yes.” Indrid’s chest is flushed and Duck reaches up his free hand to play with his nipples.

“What’s the most you’ve taken?”

“Th-three, I believe. I, ah, I’m usually facing away so I sometimes lose track.”

“You're takin four tonight. Can’t believe anyone would wanna miss out on how you look when you’re getting fucked.” He teases the second finger to prove his point and Indrid’s mouth curves with bliss.

“My ass is many people’s type; my face not so much.”

“Fuck that.” Duck pushes the second finger in. Indrid arches, then sighs as Duck keeps working him open.

“I find it difficult to care what they thought right now. I, ahhhn, it’s much more fun to think about you.”

“About me…?”

“About right you’re doing right now and, AH, what we can do next. I do so want to sit in your lap in the hot tub back home.”

“Can manage that. What else?”

“I’d very much l-like to fuck you, however you’ll let me and, and I want us to do it right after you train some day, you look so good like thatAHgod.” The third finger is in and Indrid is now steadily pushing down on them, “and one of the times you get me to run with you I expect a blow job in reward oh, ohfuck” his eyes are wild and eager, “please do the last one, I’m ready, I want it so badly, please.”

Duck begins teasing the fourth finger, “Think all those wants of yours sound real good. You wanna know mine?”

“Absolutely. AHaahnnnahgod” The wrap tightens as Indrid clings to it, trying to stabilize himself as Duck fucks his hand into him hard.

“Soon as we get home, I’m gettin the strap-on and fuckin you for a solid hour at least. Gonna leave you so fuckin raw and relaxed you won’t wanna do anything but lay there, and you’ll goddamn get to because you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Duck” it’s a happy sob, Indrid’s cock bobbing in the air.

“Gonna take a trip somewhere private, just the two of us, and you’re gonna spend the whole fuckin time tied up, to the bed, a chair, whatever the fuck else I feel like so I can ride your dick whenever I want.”

“Yes.” Indrid is barely getting out words between his cries.

“And the next time you have the fuckin nerve to wear tight jeans the day I gotta fight, I’m gonna shove a vibration plug up that cute little ass and lock your cock in a cage so we can both be horny without bein able to get off.”

“Duck please, I’m close, please touch-”

He wraps his fingers around Indrid’s dick and works him over hard and fast, “Soon as I’m done with that fight, you’re gonna blow me in the locker room so I can focus on nailin your ass into next week when we get--ohfuck!” Cum hits his chin as Indrid gasps and squeaks, scratching at the wraps and the headboard.

If Duck ever loses his memory, he hopes this is the last moment to go; Indrid Cold, happy, safe, and satisfied while he moans Duck’s name.

Indrid is boneless as Duck undoes the bonds, though he rallies enough to pull the boxer into a hug so he can cuddle him like a teddy bear. He kisses his throat, feels his pulse even out beneath his lips.

“Duck? Does, ah, does this mean what I think it does?”

The phone rings right as he’s about to answer. It’s probably Ned, so he holds up a finger and grabs the receiver.

“Go for Duck. Yeah, yeah that’ll be fine” he nods as Ned explains the plan for their exclusive, late night dinner, “yeah, tell ‘em five; you, Minerva, Leo, me and” he winks at a beaming Indrid, “my boyfriend.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #trans duck newton #reader request #meet ugly #boxer au

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wonderful-writer · 4 years

Text

22 - It’s All Over

Summary: You played the waiting game with the rest of the 47 and some of the parents, including your father, while your people worked on getting everyone out, leading to you becoming injured and the departure of one of your best friends.

Word Count: 3.37k

Based Off: 02x14, “Bodyguard of Lies”, 02x15, “Blood Must Have Blood, Part One” & 02x16, “Blood Must Have Blood, Part Two”

Author’s Note: As per usual, the end of season two means that there will be no posts next week to give me enough time to get ahead in writing season 3, because school is starting up for me next week and things will be getting harder to manage. I hope you all understand if there is a lack in my scheduled posts, but I will be trying my hardest to get the chapters written on time

Feedback is always highly appreciated!

The waiting game you were playing had to be the worst game ever. You were stuffed into a hot, tight, vent with Harper, your only light shining through the slates in the cover. You could hear everything going on outside the vent but now it was just silence. You could only hear yours and Harper’s breaths as your left hand rested in hers and your right twisted your locket rapidly.

Your eyes spaced out as your brain thought of everything that could go wrong and everything that could go right. Of course, the bad had once again outweighed the good on a massive scale, and your heart was beating faster than ever. Not knowing was the worst possible thing for you; everyone could be dead by now and they just haven’t found you and Harper yet.

A shaky breath fell from your lips and Harper squeezed your hand, causing you to look over at her. In the quietest voice she could manage, she whispered, “We’ll be okay. They’ll save us, and we’ll get to go home.”

You nodded at her words, bringing a small amount of comfort to you. An unknown amount of time had passed, though for you it felt like forever, when the PA system from outside in the hall spoke. The two of you were able to understand the words that were coming from the speakers, as it flowed through the vents and into your ears.

“My fellow citizens,” Cage addressed the people. “This is your President speaking. I have news to share with you that will change all of our lives forever. For 97 years, Mount Weather has been our home.”

Your heart rate began to pick up once again at his voice. “It’s kept us alive, but it has also held us captive. Most of us have made peace with what we’ve had to do to survive. We’ve done these things for one reason-- so that our people could someday return to the ground. That day is today.”

Harper's hand squeezed yours and you reciprocated, fear striking your heart. “Before my friend, Lorelai Tsing, was murdered by the outsiders still at large in this mountain, she found a cure. It was in their bone marrow. This has been the dream of our people since the bombs, but to reach it now, I need your help.”

Your breaths were getting quicker by the second as you felt the air around you seem to diminish. He was going public, and you were going to die. “The 45 criminals that irradiated level 5, killing 15 of our people, are now keeping us from that dream. Although we’ve repaired our home, we can never replace the lives that were so viciously taken from us.”

“And as hard as it is to believe, there are those among us who would help the people who did this, and I am speaking to you now. If you truly want to end the blood treatments once and for all, then the 45 murderers you’re now hiding are the key to doing that.”

You felt your blood run cold as he tried to convince his rebels to hand over your friends and kill you all to live on the ground, even though it is not truly theirs. It belongs to everyone who survived the bombs, everyone who spent years upon years in space living dreadful lives with strict rules. The people of Mount Weather may have stayed on the ground in a bunker for 97 years, but they’ve had it easy.

“You have one hour to turn them in without punishment. After that, we’ll be forced to consider you enemies of the state.” He took a small pause. “I am asking you, please, do what’s right for your people, our people, so that we can all take our rightful place on the ground.”

“We’re almost home.” He finalized, and nothing else was heard from him.

You closed your eyes in fear of what the old couple hiding you were going to do, but they just smiled in your direction. After waiting and waiting some more, there was a knock at the couple’s front door. They hurried and opened the door to reveal two guards, asking to step inside. They were allowed, and the pair began to search the couple’s home.

After being asked questions, the couple denied every accusation the guards had posed, and you watched worriedly as one of them continued searching. As he neared the vent, you stopped breathing and backed away from the entrance, hitting your head on the top of it and creating a large bang in the process.

The guard put his hand on his gun and ripped the bent cover off, aiming the pistol at your now revealed form. “Get out of there! Now!”

You moved as quickly as you could, pulling Harper out with you. The guard that was near the couple radioed that they had found another pair of your people while the one that found you strapped handcuffs to yours and Harper’s wrists. You sent her an apologetic look as you were being dragged out of the room.

Surprisingly, this time as you went down the hall, instead of feeling fear or worry, you couldn’t feel anything. You supposed that was due to being in the face of death many times before, but you didn’t feel a thing. But you knew yourself; the reality of situations don’t set in until the very last second when you know something’s happening. When your father left, you didn’t feel the sadness or heartbreak of the situation until your first night without him, when he didn’t come say goodnight after your mother.

You trudged along until they found two more of your people, cuffing them and dragging them with you to wherever you were going to be taken. They brought you down the halls, and as you were about to reach the elevator, the power cut off. All of you looked around in confusion before you realized that they were here. The army was coming and you would go home.

And then the alarms went off again and an automated message came through the P.A. “Attention. Class one quarantine protocols are now in effect. All citizens must report to level 5 immediately. Hard seal lockdown in t-minus 30 seconds and counting. This is not a drill.”

The guards put you on the elevator and directed it to level 5, where you were brought back to the dorms. You took a glance around the room, seeing Miller, Raven, Wick, and the other delinquents, but not Bellamy, Jasper, or Monty. They directed you over to the left and put you behind Raven, taking the cuffs off your right hand and pulling it over the pipe to reconnect them, leaving you hanging from your arms.

You knew you could’ve just put up a fight when they left you partially cuffed, but that would result in you dying first, and despite basically having accepted your fate, you didn’t want it to end just yet. The teenager on the table was screaming and covered in blood, but you directed your focus to the door once it opened again after a few minutes.

The guards brought in more people, this time dressed in Ark clothing, and put them on their knees. They lifted the bags from their head, revealing Monroe, Miller’s father, Abby, and your dad. You pulled on your restraints to try to break free and get to your father, but it was a waste of energy. He saw you and relief seemed to flood his face at the fact that you were okay, but the circumstances weren’t anywhere near ideal.

All you seemed to do in trying to get to your father was rub your wrists to the point of bleeding. You gave up after the pain settled in and your father was cuffed to the wall with the others. Once the teen on the table was bled dry and dead, they removed him and decided that Raven was their new subject.

As soon as they came for her both you and Wick volunteered to be chosen instead of her, but they didn’t listen and tased her instead, uncuffing her and strapping her to the table to begin their twisted procedure. As the doctor began to pull the strap up near her face, she got close enough to bite a chunk of the man’s neck off.

She then decided to thrash around as much as possible, making sure she didn’t go down without a fight. However, it didn’t take long for her to stop, as they tased her long enough to get her to near passing out. The screams that escaped her lips as they drove the drill into her thigh were going to haunt you, the worry for your friends' safety coursing through you. As she screamed you began to beg that it was you they took first, but they didn’t listen.

You pulled on your restraints and screamed for them to take you, but Raven’s screams were still enough to drown you out until it sounded like you were just a whisper. At least until Cage entered the room again. He ordered for Raven to be taken off of the table, but the doctor said that they weren’t done yet, Cage demanded that she was taken off and the doctor reluctantly complied.

Cage turned and gave a sick smile to you, and then pointed. “Put her on it. You wanted to take her place so bad, so let’s hit them where it hurts.”

You immediately began your protest and so did the others, but you didn’t fight as hard as you should’ve. He was right, this is what you wanted, to spare Raven of the extra pain on top of what she was already struggling to deal with. So, you moved with the guards, sitting on the table. As you were being strapped in you nodded to your father and told him you were okay.

He and Abby were shouting at Cage to fix this, so people wouldn’t have to die for bone marrow. Everyone could just donate instead of dying for it, but Cage ignored him and told him to proceed with the drilling. The doctor turned it on and the whirring of the drill scared you a little bit, but you felt numb. This was your time, and you could accept that for now. As long as everyone else was safe, you could accept dying.

They tore a piece out of the thigh of your pant leg, where they started with Raven. The drilling got closer to you and the doctor put his hand on your thigh to steady it and hold down the torn fabric, shoving the drill into your flesh. It hurt, but the pain from the drill going directly into your bone was one thousand times worse. You could feel it digging deeper into your bone, and the vibrations of the drill were practically shaking your skeleton, making the pain spread throughout your entire body instead of just your thigh.

Your screams echoed through the room, the only sound that you could hear. Your eyes squeezed shut at an attempt to relieve some of the pain but it didn’t help. Clarke and Bellamy looked at you in worry and sadness as your pain was on display on the large monitor.

“Clarke, if we do this, there is no going back!” Bellamy yelled. The conflict she faced was shown in her features. If she irradiated the level, she could save her people; but in doing so she would kill countless people. If she didn’t, her mother, her friends, and you would die.

She looked at Monty. “Figure it out.” And away he went, typing on the computer to figure out a way to save his people.

By the time that Jasper had been brought into the room, you didn’t have enough fight to keep screaming. Your throat was raw and your energy dwindled quickly. You barely registered that they caught Jasper.

Back in the security room, Monty finished his task.

“Why are you stopping?” Clarke asked urgently.

“Because I did it,” Monty said, astonished. “All we have to do is pull this.” He pointed at the lever. “The vents and hatches will open, and the scrubbers will reverse, pulling in outside air.”

A beat of tense silence filled the security room as Bellamy watched Emerson try to get in through the monitors. Quickly, he pulled his weapon and aimed it at the door. “He’s gonna blow the door.”

“Clarke. We’re out of time.” Monty told the blonde, who put her hand on the lever.

Hesitantly, she looked up at the monitor, her friends and family tied up like animals and her close friend being drained of her bone marrow. Bellamy watched his sister and Maya being pinned to the ground. “My sister, my responsibility.”

Bellamy put his hand on the lever, right on top of Clarke’s. The burden she faced was a little lighter now that she didn’t have to do it all alone. “Together,”

Clarke nodded at her friend and slowly, their hands pulled the lever back, dooming everyone who lived in the mountain to death so their friends and family could live. Alarms started blaring and the yellow lights flashed, the guards in the dorm dropping to the floor in pain. Your vision was hazy as Jasper ran from the room and your father shouted at him.

You turned your head and looked at your father, tired. Then Octavia came into view, diving down and coming back up, unhooking your father and Abby from their cuffs, then moving onto the others. Your father ran towards you with Abby, the woman working on removing your leg restraints and your father pulling off the strap around your neck.

“Where’s… where are Clarke and Bellamy?”

Your father gave you no answer as he worked on getting your wrists free. As soon as he did so, you were pulled into his arms, weakly wrapping your own around his neck. “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

With help, you sat up at the edge of the medical table, hugging Abby when Clarke and Bellamy came into the room with Monty. Everyone else was being freed, and to your surprise, Clarke came straight to your side to hug you.

“I thought you were dead,” She sobbed, the stress finally overcoming her.

“I’m okay, I always am.” You joked. “How many times do I have to tell everyone, death isn’t something I’m fit for.”

She laughed a little and pulled away, heading over to her mom. Not even 10 seconds after she had let go of you, Bellamy had his arms wrapped tightly around you. You hugged back just as tightly, tucking your face into Bellamy’s neck, just as he did. It took a moment to realize that the both of you were crying in relief that the other was okay.

“I knew you shouldn’t have come, I told you it wasn’t safe,” Bellamy solded lightly, more concerned with if you were completely okay than lecturing you. You chuckled at him and Smoothed the hair on the back of his head down.

“I’m never one to listen to people, Bell.” You reminded him.

He pulled away a little bit, just enough to look at you. He had tear streaks on his face, as did you, the relief that it was all over making everyone emotional. You kept your eyes on his as he pushed some hair out of your face, admiring you. His soft, brown eyes looked you over, checking for any other injuries aside from the one on your leg.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern in his tone.

“I’m fine, Bell.”

“Good. Good.” He seemed to be thinking over something, the gears in his head turning as hard as ever as anxiety shone in his eyes. The hand that once pushed your hair wavy now rested partially on your cheek, and within seconds, Bellamy seemed to have made up his mind.

His eyes flickered towards your lips as he moved forward the smallest bit, eyelids fluttering. Acting on instinct, you moved closer to him, closing your eyes. His breath fanned on your lips as he moved closer, and the bundle of nerves in your stomach was tightening as the seconds passed. The buildup felt like it took centuries, not seconds.

Your mind seemed to be made up, and your hand went to the back of Bellamy’s neck, pulling him closer until his lips were on yours. He seemed a little stunned at the action but kissed back, moving his hands to rest on your waist as you wrapped your other arm around Bellamy’s neck. The need for air was increasing as the kiss continued, but you both ignored it for as long as possible, wanting to be close after everything.

Once you both decided that you needed air, you pulled away with a smile. “I’ve wanted to do that since the dropship.”

“Me too,” You agreed. He chuckled and pulled you back into a hug, though this time it felt very different, there was something else in it, something you couldn’t place, but it was nice.

A throat cleared from behind you, and you pulled away to see your father. “You did good, Bellamy,” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Now let’s get these people home.”

“Yes, sir.”

You could tell your dad was going to say something when Octavia came up to the three of you. “Where’s Cage?”

“He probably escaped, but if anything he’ll be dead within the week.” You assured them.

Though wary, the group nodded and Octavia hugged you. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, ‘Tavia.”

Once everyone was ready, Bellamy looped one arm around your waist and put yours around your neck, and Octavia did the same. Walking would be hard for you on the way back, but you insisted that Raven needed the stretcher more than you did, and you didn’t want to inconvenience anyone more than necessary.

At some point during the walk, your leg began to give way again and Bellamy just carried you the rest of the way. Your father was near the front with Abby, while you stayed with Bellamy at the gate, no longer being carried by him, making sure that everyone got in safely.

Your attention was brought to Clarke and Monty, who were hugging. Limping, you and Bellamy met her just outside the exit. “I think we deserve a drink.”

“More like a whole damn bottle,”

“Have one for me.” Clarke told you.

“Hey, if we can get through this--” Bellamy started.

“I’m not going in.” You looked sadly at your friend, understanding what she was saying.

Bellamy seemed to catch on too. “Look, if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.”

“Please come inside, Clarke.” You asked.

“Take care of them for me,” She requested.

“Clarke--”

“No. Seeing their faces every day is just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here.”

“What we did.” Bellamy reminded her.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.” You assured her.

“I bear it so they don’t have to,” She cited, tearing up.

“Where are you gonna go?” Bellamy asked.

“I don’t know.” Clarke admitted.

Quickly, she kissed Bellamy’s cheek and pulled him into a hug. “May we meet again.”

She let go and moved to you, struggling to keep her emotions down as she did. “I love you, sister.”

You heard her struggle to suppress a sob at your words and smoothed down the hair on your head. “I love you, too, sister.”

With that, she took a step back and looked between the two of you. “Take care of each other,”

You watched as the girl that you had come to consider as your sister walked away from home and into the forest, where you had no clue where she would end up. Your leg started giving out again and you grabbed Bellamy’s arm, leading him to pick you up again and carry you towards medical so Abby could help you.

Now, all you could do was keep on living, and see where life would take you.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #the 100 x reader #the 100 rewrite #this is war series

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skinks · 4 years

Text

I see a lot of theater club Richie floating around but I really love the concept of A.V. nerd Richie. Like he’s part of the school radio broadcast and an absolute fucking terror on the P.A. system, making joke announcements all the time and doing Voices, but nobody can kick him off because they can never find where he’s hiding and tapping into the frequency.

He takes AP physics and Mike helps him rig up an old police scanner. They’re like those UFO conspiracy dudes in 90s movies who live in trailers and look for clues of Supernatural Activity in and around Derry

He re-jigs a pair of walkie talkies to work over a wider range, gives one to Stan and the other stays in the Clubhouse, so they can all remind him to actually come back to civilisation when he’s been birdwatching for hours

Commandeers the A.V club’s sole video camera and films Bill and Mike and Stan acting out Bill’s stories, while Ben builds sets and Eddie barks directions through a cardboard cone

Helps Ben to burn the mother of all mixtape collections to send to Bev in Portland. Is the first to figure out emails on the library computer and then receives one in all caps from Bev telling him to stop splicing audio from pornos into the mixtapes, and she knows it was him because you’re the only one dorky enough to know how to do that, Richie. Then she thanks him for making a copy of Bill’s film they all shot together, and for sending it to her, she misses Richie too

and then. Oh, then, his crowning A.V nerd achievement

last week ever of high school, and Eddie is still out running drills with the track team, dodging through the marching band, when the giant loudspeaker crackles to life over the bleachers, over the field, and Eddie would know that throat clearing and that dumbass snicker anywhere. Then the marching band starts playing something horribly, familiarly bouncy. Richie has somehow jammed the P.A system so nobody can switch him off while he sings Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli, cavorting around on the bleachers and pointing right at his not-secret-anymore boyfriend like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You, but they’re ditching this town in a week so who fucking cares if people know. It’s a good thing Eddie is anchor leg in the relay team because even when he’s laughing, flipping the bird AND dragging Richie along behind him, he’s still faster than school security

#me: loved physics and maths and making gross jokes in dumb voices for my friends and was on the radio in high school #me: i can project on to richie a little. as a treat #me: also loves sports #me: i can project onto eddie a little. as a tr #ficlet

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 4 years

Text

Power Rangers AU

A Sanders Sides fanfiction.

Relationships: romantic Logicality, Demus, Prinxiety, Remile

Warnings: swearing(mainly Remus and Virgil), poorly written fight scenes/minor violence, stupid pining, kissing/making-out/PDA(no smut cause I can’t write that. . . sorry), sympathetic Deceit and Remus, food mentions, more warnings/warning details will be at the tops of chapters

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

This fic has been under review for a long time and I hope you all like it. More chapters to follow!

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Chapter 1-Red and Green

Roman wasn't the biggest fan of fifth hour. Sure, school would be out soon and he wouldn't have to deal with the disgrace of a teacher his peers had nicknamed 'Ms. Demon', but that simply wasn't good enough. An hour in her class felt like months to Roman and his B- reflected that perfectly. Roman felt the world grind to a halt and begin a sluggish jog the second that fifth hour bell rang and there was no way of getting out of it. The only upsides to the class were his passing grade and the ability to listen to music without his teacher realizing. Most of the time Roman found himself discretely nodding his head to a spotify broadway playlist and doodling aimlessly, wishing to whoever could read his thoughts, that something interesting would happen.

On this particularly sunny day, his prayers would receive an answer.

'Ms. Demon' was twenty minutes into her monotone explination of another pre-calc unit, when the alarm system went off. Roman along with thirty other sleep-deprived teenagers jumped and looked around panicked. If he remembered correctly, this alarm meant they were under attack yet again.

Fricking Dragon Witch always interrupting me while I’m listening to The Prom, Roman thought, begrudgingly taking out his earbuds.

The P.A. system crackled to life and everyone turned to face the speakers.

"Students, remain calm, this is not a drill, we are under attack." The voice of the vice-principal stated, clearly shaken. "Your instructions are as follows, leave your belongings where you are and stay in your classrooms. I repeat, stay calm and stay in you-"

The power cut off. People began quietly standing up and searching for their phones. A few students even began a hesitant walk to the door. Roman felt his heart beat and breathing quicken as a girl in his class opened the door and examined the hall, no other students had dared to walk the hallways. It was eerily quiet in the school as the hairs on Roman's arms and neck stood up. Suddenly a scream down the hall echoed to everyone's horror, followed by the collapsing of a wall and thunderous yells of fear and anguish. A wave of students began racing down the hall. Screaming and crying filled Roman's ears. Roman jumped up, he shoved his phone and ear buds in his pocket and hopped over desks to get out of the door. He looked down the hall to see a part of the building completely in rubble and more students running for cover. He began following the crowd, helping fallen students and frantically searching for his brother.

Remus has world economics this hour I think. Run, run, turn left, run, on your right. Find Remus, find Remus. Roman began chanting instructions to himself. He reached Remus' classroom and looked inside to find it empty. Hoping that his twin had run for cover with the others, Roman ran to leave the school. He continued calling Remus's name and ran himself winded, letting the crowd pull him along. Remus was nowhere to be found. Roman’s twin was strangely tall and wore obnoxious clothing, so he should be easy to spot, but as hard as Roman tried, he couldn’t see him.

Roman stopped where he was, a mistake as he soon learned after getting run into by several other students. He knew his brother would have grabbed his phone, so Roman pulled up Snapchat and checked the map to see if Remus was there. He found the icon and saw that Remus was quickly leaving the McDonald's across the street.

"Remus I swear." Roman grumbled and continued his run.

He made it out of the school and was immediately bombarded by the sound of the fight behind him. Roman wasted no time racing to find Remus.

"Remus! Remus! Where are you?! For godsake Remus! I will-"

"ROMAN!!!" Remus' screeching was heard above the crowd and Roman ran to him.

"You were at McDonald's!?!?!" Roman scolded once he had reached Remus.

"I was skipping alright! You try sitting in that class for an hour everyday!" Remus retaliated.

"I do sit in that class for an hour everyday Remus!" Roman yelled back. Remus looked like he was going to give a snarky retort, but suddenly he grabbed Roman's shirt and pulled the both of them to the right. Roman stumbled around and looked to where he had previously been standing, to see that Remus had pulled him away from falling debris just in time. He shook off Remus's hand and the two began sprinting for cover behind the nearest building.

The twins leaned against it, catching their breaths. Roman ran his hands along his face, wiping off sweat and dust. He decided to sneak a look at the battle from where he was and peeked around the brick building. There the Black Ranger was wielding his axe and attacking the Dragon Witches's minions. He sliced through several of them and proceeded to dash through another horde of them, cutting each one down. Roman watched, mesmerized, barely noticing Remus move beside him to watch the battle unfold. The aliens appeared to have stopped arriving and the Black Ranger made quick work of the remaining ones. The battle looked almost won.

Then Roman saw it. A hurling ball of purple fire rappidly falling from the sky. The Black Ranger didn't seem to have noticed it and Roman began to fear he wouldn't have time as it continued its descent. Suddenly he felt his body get the best of him and Roman jumped out from his hiding place.

"BLACK RANGER, ABOVE YOU!!!!" Roman shouted.

"What the hell are you-" Remus tried to pull him back, but looked over to see the Black Ranger narrowly dodge out of the way of the purple fire.

More fire began raining from the sky directed at the Black Ranger who managed to dodge it the best he could.

"Can you just stop moving!" A voice suddenly yelled out.

A humanoid figure dropped from the sky and looked at the Black Ranger, more annoyed than angry, certainly a change from the typical attacker. The villain’s black and purple armor spiked up and circled their body. Six purple eyes glowed bright under the shadow cast by their hair and pointed crown. Considering the other cartoonish monsters the Black Ranger has fought, this one was pretty minimalistic.

"Sorry, but I don't exactly plan on dying any time soon." The Black Ranger stated. "You on the other hand-"

"Yes, yes, justice will be served, peace will be restored, blah blah, trust me buddy, no one wants me dead more than I do m’kay." The villain crossed their arms and shook their head. "But look, my mom is pissed and if I die she's just gonna bring me back and have me fight you all over again. So do us both a favor and let me capture you."

"Not a chance!"

"Ugh." The villain threw their head back and whined. "Why can't this ever be easy."

"Being evil will never be easy as long as heroes are around to stop you!"

"I. Get. It." The villain puncutated each word with a clap. “Look, just turn yourself in and let's get this over with."

"I'll never surrender to you!"

"Great." The villain groaned again before disappearing and reappearing behind the Black Ranger.

The Ranger turned around and blocked the purple fire that was blasted at him. He continued dodging each fireball thrown. The fight continued as the villain lobbed purple fire and the Black Ranger battled on the defensive, clearly trying to minimize futher damage. Then, an opening appeared and the Ranger charged, shoving his axe at the villain who dodged and blasted him with fire on the back. The Ranger fell to the ground in pain and accidentally dropped the axe as he rolled. He began crawling to his weapon as the villain approached.

“Remus! We gotta help!” Roman whisper-yelled at his brother.

“Why?!” Remus exclaimed.

“C’mon just grab something!” Roman told him.

Remus and Roman quietly snuck out of their hiding place and each grabbed the closest heavy object. Roman found a street sign that had been uprooted while Remus grabbed the nearest trash can. The two snuck closer to the villain and Ranger as fast as they could.

"I'm not gonna do any of that 'any last words?' stuff.” They said, looming over the Black Ranger, fire swirling around their hand as it pointed at his chest. “We both know I'm not gonna kill you so-"

That was when Remus full-force chucked the trash can at the back of the Villain. They stumbled and flailed a little before regaining composure and turning to face the brothers.

"Ow, what the-dude!" They rubbed the back of their neck.

Roman chose that moment to swing the sign at the at the villain who teleported away.

"You have no clue what your doing now, do ya?" The villain asked from behind the two condescendingly.

"Wha-"

Suddenly, the Black Ranger's axe was thrown into the villain's side. They winced and looked down at the wound. Roman saw as purple blood began seeping out of their newest gash.

"Dammit." The villain said flatly before disappearing, the axe dropping to the ground.

Roman and Remus looked around for them fervently.

"Don't worry, he's not coming back." The Ranger told them, in clear pain.

"He isn't?" Roman asked.

"No, but he'll be sending more minions to attack us. You two need to run." The Ranger told them.

"No way! You're hurt!" Roman protested.

"How did you get hurt anyway, doesn't that suit make you basically indistrucable?" Remus raised his eyebrows.

"To some weaker attacks yes, but a full strength blast from Prince Virgilius is gonna hurt bad." The Ranger winced.

"I didn't understand anyting you just told me." Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"That's because you have an I.Q. of negative twenty." Roman sneered.

"Says the one who almost failed seventh grade social studies." Remus retorted.

"Geography is a hack and you know it!" Roman huffed.

Remus looked ready to say something in return, but was cut-off when hordes of minions began spilling into the Earth through a breach in dimension.

"Like I said, minions." The Black Ranger sighed. "Run."

Roman raced beside the Ranger and put his left arm over Roman's shoulders. He began helping the Ranger along and the three began trying to get away from the swarms of minions, but were caught up to quickly.

"Roman, you need to leave me so I can fend them off. You and Remus have to run." The Black Ranger told them.

"No, you need help Sir, we can't let you-" Roman started.

"How does he know my name?" Remus asked no one in perticular.

"-protect us when you’re injured and I know you’re the Black Ranger, but you can’t fight all of them off alone!” Roman finished.

“Please listen!” The Ranger interrupted the both of them. “We don’t have much time before we’re completely surrounded, so you two better start running!”

“We are not leaving you!”

“You don’t decide who I can and cannot leave behind Roman!” Remus screeched.

“Will you shut up!” Roman stopped him. “I’m sorry, but like I said, Power Ranger or not, you shouldn’t be fighting alone like this. So, Remus, grab the nearest stabby-thing and let’s help him defend Earth from aliens.”

It was quiet for a bit. The Ranger didn’t seem to want to argue any longer and was more focused on the massive amount of aliens running toward the three. Remus laced his fingers together in front of his face like he was praying and looked at Roman.

“Ro Ro-“

“Please don’t call me that.”

“You had me at ‘stabby-thing’.” Remus sighed before turning away and beginning his search for said 'stabby-thing'.

Roman did the same, quickly scrambling over to pick up the sign he had used earlier. Roman stood next to the Ranger and smiled at him. Preparing himself for the battle before him. Then the minions were on them.

One after another the monsters attacked Roman and the Ranger. Roman slapping one with the sign and forcefully jabbed at the others. He swung the sign around and tried to knock out as many as possible. He wasn’t as effective as the Ranger, who though he was hurt, had an actual weapon that could hurt the minions.

Roman realized his brother was no longer in his line of sight and accidentally let his guard down. Remus, stop going where I can’t see you- Roman’s thoughts were interrupted as one of the aliens grabbed him and held him down. Roman struggled against the grip and tried to pull himself free, but to no avail.

Then, something happened. Roman wished he had been able to fully see what was actually going on, but all he really understood was; a red glowing object had come from nowhere and wrapped itself around Roman’s right wrist.

“Roman!” The Black Ranger called from a ways away. “Listen to me!”

“Okay!” Roman yelled back, trying to get a better look at what had just attached itself to his wrist, but the minion just tightened its grip.

“I need you to say, ‘Red Ranger, activate!’." The Black Ranger told him, trying to keep his voice steady as he fended off the monsters.

"What!?!" Roman squeaked.

"Say it! Trust me!!" The Ranger called.

"Red Ranger!! Activate!!!" Roman yelled.

Then his world dissolved. Everything was gone, no monsters, no Ranger, no Remus, nothing. Just a blank area. Roman looked around, it was silent except for his own shuffling as Roman stood up. Roman looked toward his hand, finding a red bracelet that had wrapped around his right wrist, seeping red light. The light spread, covering Roman's body. It began to solidify into armor. Roman closed his eyes to protect himself from the brightness, only to open them and find his head in a helmet. He stared at his body, now covered in a suit similar to that of the Black Ranger. In front of him a red glowing blob began taking form. Roman stared, bewildered, as the red light formed a sword, the blade jagged and intricately designed, the hilt pointed toward Roman, as if imploring him to take hold of it. Roman complied, gripping the sword tight, and closing his eyes once again as he was fully enveloped in red light.

Roman opened his eyes and found himself standing in a small clearing of monsters. The minions staring at him an awe. Roman felt a grin stretch across his face as he brought the sword back a little and thrust it forward into one of the monsters. It collapsed into dust and Roman continued. The monsters fell out of their daze and Roman made his way to the Black Ranger helping him cut each of the aliens down.

---

A long ways away, Remus was running like a mad man trying to escape the aliens who had followed him. He cursed them and their bloodline, soon finding his breath shortnening. He cursed his dramatic brother one last time before collapsing on the ground. He took in several deep breaths and tried to get up, only to have his vision turn blurry and his head spin. The boy fell back down again, waiting for the aliens to come and eat him alive. However, before he could meet his demise, Remus felt a sharp pressure apply itself to his left wrist. A cool metal object had encircled around him and Remus could feel it pulse a little. He tried to look at it but was once again met with a dizzy, sickening feeling.

Then, his world was white.

---

Roman saw from the other side of the block as a green flash exploded from the ground. Before he could ask the Black Ranger what that was about, he was attacked by another swarm of aliens. Which he made quick work of. The ground became littered in dust and it looked like the aliens were losing their high numbered advantage.

“Roman!” Remus’ voice cut across the courtyard.

“What?!” Roman shouted back snappily.

Roman turned to his brother’s voice and saw a suit much like his own and the Black Ranger’s, but green. Remus barreled toward the two swinging a spiky mace in his hands. He turned several of the minions to nothing and met Roman and the Black Ranger in the middle of it all.

Soon, each alien had been destroyed and the three stood among dust.

“This is amazing.” Remus breathed swiftly. He swung the mace around playfully.

“This is insane.” Roman nodded aggressively. Catching his breath forthe first time in a while. “Are-are we Rangers now?”

“Welcome to the team.” The Black Ranger laughed weakly. He grabbed his side yet again and looked at the twins. “You two need to come with me.”

#logicality #prinxiety #demus #remile #thatsthat24 #power rangers au #roman sanders #remus sanders

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