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thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 3 years

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Gift exchange

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve forgotten about your Christmas company party. Even worse you forgot to get a gift for the “not so secret Santa” - your company’s tradition. Wanna top it? Make it even worse? No problem. The person you were supposed to get a gift for? Your crush. Defsoul - the most talented, kindest and hottest person alive. What are you going to do now?

pairing: Lim Jaebeom (Defsoul) x reader

genre: smut, fluff, Jaebeom is a producer, Y/N is a manager

warnings: smut: daddy kink, light choking, ass play; foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 4989

A/N: TFW you try to write a GOT7 reaction, and you end up with one-shot. I know I’m kinda late with whole christmas theme but i wrote it last night and figured out I could post it anyway.

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You barely got to shut your eyes before your alarm tore you up from your dreams. It was nine in the morning, and you went to sleep at six AM because of your work. You groaned as you shuffled in bed cursing your job, three hours of sleep was not enough for anyone. Being manager of K-pop girl group was hard enough but being the manager in December when there was award show after award show and festivals - that was a nightmare. To other people December was equal to Christmas, gifts, parties, New Year's Eve but to you, it was synonymous with constant state of tiredness, your biggest wish right now was to spent Christmas break alone, just you and your bed. You sighed as you dragged yourself to shower. Girls had only slept for 5 hours, and you felt bad for them — not only were they invited to each award show that existed they also just have had a comeback. You could see how exhausted they were and yet your superiors still pushed for them to go to some stupid TV show on Christmas Eve. You got yourself ready and went to pick them up and get them to set.

The recording went smoothly, and you were already daydreaming about coming home early and passing out on your bed. It was six PM already, but you still had to drive girls home and step into the office for a bit. You sighed you'd be home eight PM at best - well it was still better than coming home at two or three AM. You were about to go and thank everyone for their hard work when your phone vibrated. It was your best friend and coworker.

"Hey Inha. What's up?"

"I wanted to check if you remember about the company party tonight."

You hit your forehead and groaned.

"OMG! You forgot! Have you bought a gift at least?"

"No..." you whined. You wanted to die. You had so much work lately that you've absolutely forgotten about that party — it was for staff only and each year you'd drew lots to pick the person you were supposed to give a gift to. It wasn't even secret Santa your boss simply came to conclusion that gift exchange would help out with forming friendships...

"Girl... Do you at least remember who you drew?"

Of course you remembered. How could you not. This was your lucky year, you got Defsoul the hottest, kindest and most talented person working for your label. You had a small crush on him since that day he gave up his coffee for you. You were falling asleep standing while girls were recording their vocals, and he chuckled at you before telling you to sit by him and drink some coffee. It probably meant nothing to him but that was one of the most stressful weeks in your life, and you weren't sleeping at all during that time — ITZY were about to make a debut, and you couldn't stop worrying over it. You remember how touched you were by this simple gesture, after all no one ever gave you coffee, usually you were the one getting it for other people. His looks certainly didn't help with your hopeless crush. He was H O T and not even simply hot, more like "I-look-like-an-idol" hot. He had a black mullet, piercing under his eye, he also had his nose and ears pierced to make matters worse for you he also had most hypnotizing almost feline-like eyes. Honestly you wondered why didn't he become an idol with a face and talent like that. After that one time, he would buy you a coffee whenever he had seen you and you two became somewhat close - you'd swing over his studio when girls had to train and talk about everything and nothing. He told you about his cats, his favorite restaurants, his passion for taking pictures and well you mostly told him about your job since you basically didn't have any private life - it really felt pathetic. He even took your photo once - telling you that the picture would help him later when he would be looking for inspiration (it is a mystery till this day how you haven't fainted that evening). One day you were waiting for girls to finish up their dance practice and fell asleep on one of the benches — it was difficult day for you since you haven't slept for twenty hours already (you had to fight off some crazy sasaengs and didn’t sleep whole night keeping an eye on their dorm — some would say you were overdoing it, but to you members of ITZY were like your little sisters). You woke up in his studio on his couch. He carried you there while you were asleep and tucked you in, covering you with his jacket. You were extremely embarrassed, apologetic and thankful at the same time. He chuckled at you before saying that it was okay and forced you to promise that you'd oversleep to work the very next day. Inha claimed he had a crush on you since he never treated her with the same kindness or anyone really. But you knew better, he was a good colleague. A good, extraordinarily attractive colleague you wanted to kiss and lick and...

"Hello? Earth to Y/N??" your friend snapped you from your thoughts.

"I have to go Inha! Thank you for reminding me! Love you!" You checked the time, there was no way you'd manage to drive girls back, buy a gift, get ready for a party and do all that without being late. You sighed you will have to improvise. You drove off girls and came back rushing straight to your apartment. The party started at 10 PM and you had to shower, somehow fix your sleep-deprived face and figure out how you're going to apologize to Def... You were home a few minutes before 8 rushing into your bedroom - at least you knew what you were going to wear. That would be the most expensive, or more like the only expensive piece of clothing you had — a birthday gift from girls. It was an oversized tuxedo jacket from Alexander Wang and you haven't worn it yet. You tried it on, it had quite deep cleavage, and exposed a lot of your legs, but you figured it would be ok for tonight. You smoothed out black velvety material before stepping out of it. You still had to shower and do your makeup. An hour later you were looking at yourself in the mirror — the mask Inha got you really helped out with bags under your eyes. You did good with makeup as well: it was soft brownish smoky eye, orange toned lipstick and some shimmers here and there — you actually looked healthy and well rested (a true Christmas miracle really). You looked even better after getting in your outfit — Ryunjin was right, the tuxedo like dress fitted your vibe. You even wore some black heels which didn't often happen since you always chose comfort over looks when at work.

Fortunately you got to the party on time even though you couldn't catch a taxi for twenty minutes or so. People inside were already mingling and drinking, and you decided to grab something to drink before looking for Def. You located a small table with champagne in the corner of the room. You downed two glasses as quick as you got there, and were already grabbing a third one when a voice spoke up startling you so much you jumped a little.

"Rough day?" Defsoul was standing next to you, whiskey in his hand, smirking at you. You immediately blushed and gawked at him. He was so handsome it was simply unfair. This man clearly woke up today and chose violence. He was wearing a silky black shirt — and it was quite unbuttoned, so you had a chance of seeing his broad chest (you were currently having a heart attack), and slacks he also styled his hair so that his forehead was exposed with one defiant streak of hair falling onto his brow bone. You wanted to groan. You fucked up — this could've been your chance to get him to like you more...

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he was genuinely concerned, and here you were, basically salivating and staring at him like a starved, nasty man. That was so embarrassing. You cleared your throat and looked away.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really tired today..." He smiled at you warmly, and you wanted to punch yourself for not getting him something, anything.

"That's great!" You gave him a confused look, and he bit his lip nervously while scratching the back of his head. He was so cute you could kiss him. Well to be fair you felt like you could kiss him any time. Why...why did you have to forget that bloody gift...

"I mean it's not great that you're tired... It's just… ah, shit I suck at this. Here." He handed you a plastic card, and you read it absolutely puzzled. Lifetime pass for coffee with Jaebeom — it also had a cute chibi character that looked just like Def, except it had some cat ears.

"Now you can get coffee whenever you want. I mean I know you can have it whenever you want anyway, I just thought that maybe you'd like someone to get it with... I mean get it for you… It's ok if you don't like it really, oh by the way I'm Jaebeom, I don't know if I already told you my real name or not…" he was rambling, and you were screaming inside your head. That was so cute. So kind. You wanted to hug him and kiss him so badly. "Ah, shit. I really do suck at this." he said more to himself than to you. You finally looked at him and grinned.

"I love it." you said and his eyes turned into big orbs before light pink colored his cheeks.

"You do?"

"I do. It's a perfect gift." you smiled, your heart swelled with happiness. You could technically go on a date with him whenever you felt like with this handy piece of plastic. That is if he wouldn't start to hate you in the next few minutes for forgetting his present.

"I'm glad." he grinned and it took your breath away. How come he was so perfect? You got even more nervous looking at the gift from him.

"Ah... I was your not so secret Santa as well…" you started.

"Really? So what did you get me?" he was genuinely interested, and you wanted to go back in time and kill yourself for forgetting about this party. You looked up. His eyes were gleaming with curiosity — you were fucked.

"It's me! I'm your gift!" you joked and looked down to cover your nervousness. You were about to say that it was just a stupid joke and apologize before he spoke up.

"I love it." his voice was deeper than normally, and you looked up shocked by it. He was checking you out, his hungry eyes traveling up and down. You've never seen him like that. You could feel warmth spreading on your cheeks under his intense stare, a tight knot forming somewhere near your core in excitement.

"Y-you do?" your voice faltered, and he chuckled while moving closer to you. He smelled musky with a hint of citrus. Your legs were about to collapse under you.

"I do." he hummed he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His hand brushed against yours as he bent down to reach your ear. You were sure your skin was burning where he touched you. "So, tell me Y/N, when can I unwrap you?" his tone was dark and dangerous and when he straightened up you've seen this gleam in his eyes as he smirked. Your legs felt like made from putty and you'd collapse if his hand weren't already wrapped around your waist. You couldn't believe it was happening. Your heart was beating so hard it was about to spring off your chest — you were wondering if he could hear it. You certainly could even though blood ringed in your ears. You felt your throat going dry and your panties getting moist.

"Def…" you started weakly. Shocked by your own voice — it sounded so needy.

"Call me Jaebeom.." he purred. "Would you like to go to my place? I don't think I can wait any longer to enjoy my gift…" You quavered from excitement, his voice was laced with a promise of sleepless night.

"Yes, let's go." you said and he smiled at you. You were sure you lost any oxygen you still had in your lungs at that moment. His hand left your waist, and you wanted to catch it and wrap yourself with it again. Instead, he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers with his, smiling at you sweetly before he led you outside. You couldn't focus on anything else, but his fingers wrapped around yours. His hand was warm, and he held you firmly, his skin soft and delicate. You managed to quickly catch a taxi and through whole drive Jaebeom's hand lazily travelled up and down your thigh. His gentle fingers sending sparks to your core every time he brushed the inside of your leg. You glanced at him, eyes filled with desire — he shivered, and it made you feel a different kind of excitement — you didn't know that you had this kind of effect on him. You got out of the taxi and his hand was instantly on yours, he was almost dragging you skipping every other step as he rushed upstairs to his apartment. He opened the door and let you in. Immediately three cats came in and brushed against your legs. You smiled softly.

"They like you.." Jaebeom murmured against your neck while taking off your coat for you, you gasped at the feeling, and he released low chuckle before he started planting soft kisses against your neck — each time his lips touched your skin your muscles clenched with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer. You turned around and looked at him, his eyes were glued to your lips and excitement bubbled somewhere below your stomach.

"I waited so long for this..." he started but never got to finish as your lips were on his in a second. Even his lips felt like cotton, and you sighed against him when he kissed you back. He was clearly enjoying slow kisses. You grew impatient once again and licked his lower lip, he gave you access you asked for, and your tongue brushed against his hungrily. You could already feel how wet you were, arousal making your panties stick to you painfully. Jaebeom's hand travelled around your back dropping dangerously low now and then but never grabbing you — you really wanted him to hold you and take you roughly. Once again you grew impatient this night. You took his lower lip in between your teeth, you bit it hard and moaned. That seemed to make him lose his cool, he let out a growl that travelled straight to your core.

"Bad girl..." he said before he turned you around and pushed you against the wall so that your back was facing him. His tongue already on your earlobe, you sighed and shivered when he licked it and let out breaths against wet, sensitive skin. "I wanted to take it slowly, but you're so eager, so impatient…" he was purring into your ear, and you were aching down there more and more with each syllable.

"Jaebeom..." you moaned as you pressed your ass against him. He sucked some breath in when you pushed down against his hard length, his body working on its own accord, one hand already on your hips pressing you harder when the other one cupped your breast. This is not how he envisioned tonight, he thought that he'd at best confess his feelings not have you here crumbling in his hands while moaning his name. Your hips bucked against his by itself as soon as you felt how hard he was. His hand grabbed your clothed breast, and you regretted wearing anything. You wanted to feel him against you naked skin not through layers of clothing.

"Jaebeom-ah..." you moaned his name again, and he rewarded you with sucking on your neck — it was painful yet pleasant, and you almost forgot what you wanted to say before he licked the fresh mark and kissed it. "Didn't you say you wanted to unwrap me?" You said in weak voice still affected by his mouth on your neck. He laughed against your skin, and you thought that's how paradise would sound like.

"You really are impatient... do you want me to fuck you so bad?" he asked rubbing into you, his dick almost in pain from the friction.

"Yes...please..." you panted out, and he let out some animalistic sound upon hearing how needy you were. He made you face him and unbuttoned your tuxedo-like-dress before he tossed it somewhere behind him. You shivered under his stare. He pulled you into him and his hands immediately travelled to your ass, grabbing it and lifting you up without effort. He began kissing your jaw, neck, collarbones, and you tilted your head, so he could have better access. He carried you to his bedroom and laid you down carefully on the mattress before he took a step back. His sheets smelled just like him, and you sighed in pleasure, sinking deeply into his fragrance. He bit his lip seeing you in his bed, wearing nothing but lacy underwear. However, you didn't want just lay and wait, you got up and reached out to his own shirt undoing the buttons hastily, but he didn't let you, he was in control. He held your hands and pushed you back on bed. You bounced and your hair created a sort of crown, spreading around your face — it emphasized your features even more, and Jaebeom felt as if he was making love to some kind of goddess. Your lips, eyes, hair, body everything was perfect. He wanted to taste you already.

"You need to ask me nicely." He smirked at you and you pouted a bit before a mischievous gleam appeared in your eyes. You let one of the straps fall from your shoulder and gave him an innocent look before taking off the other one as well. Just one move and Jaebeom would see your torso naked. He bit his lip unintentionally, when you pushed your breast closer while also moaning.

"Pleeeaaase... undress already and fuck me... daddy." He groaned - you'd be the end of him. He quickly tore any clothes that were on him leaving only his boxers on, and you stared him down hungrily. Saying he was beautiful was and understatement. He was perfect. His skin was light and smooth, it gleamed in the moonlight that illuminated the room through a small window located right above the headboard. It was still dim, but you could clearly see the outline of muscles on his stomach, and a tempting v line, waiting for you to be licked on his abdomen.

"Take off your bra." he ordered and you obediently followed. His eyes devoured your glistening breasts, two darker beads already hard and inviting him in. He licked his thumb and brushed it against your nipple watching intently for your reaction. You didn't disappoint him as you arched your back hungry for his touch. He took another one into his mouth, his tongue making circles around it for what felt like forever. The sound of his wet licks and your quickened breath feeling the silence of the room. You squeezed your legs looking for any kind of release, it didn't help much. Your core was aching and since you could only wait for him to bring you pleasure you closed your eyes and focused only on the sole path of his tongue. It was almost like a torture and Jaebeom seemed to enjoy it greatly, lazy licks, circles around your nipples, blowing cold air on them to hear your whines. And so when he finally sucked on your swollen nipple you moaned his name so loudly his neighbors could hear you. His dick twitched in his boxers. He couldn't wait for much long either, you were the most beautiful person he ever saw, and you were squirming under him, waiting for him to fuck you. He was honestly shocked he didn't take you against that wall in his hall when you pushed your ass against him. He smirked at you, he haven’t even fucked you yet and you were already having this kind of expression. His lips travelled from your breast lower and lower before his face hovered above your panties, hot breath on your wet, clothed pussy sending you almost over the edge. You looked down at him, his eyes were full of lust. He was so beautiful you felt like it was just a dream, not reality. When he pressed his nose against your wet folds you moaned again. He inhaled it a few times as if it was the most ravishing smell in the world.

"You smell so good I might go crazy." He actually was going crazy as his cock let out a bit of pre-cum only upon him smelling your pussy.

"Daddy... please..." you pleaded looking him in the eyes, he couldn't take it any longer. In one swift move he tore the panties off you, they were soaked, and he sniffed them one last time before throwing them out. He took off his own underwear, and knelt between your legs his cock in his hand already.

"You're so wet for me. Such a good girl, I'm going to fuck you so good." he purred out, and you could go off his words only. He put on condom quickly and teased your entrance before sliding into you slowly. He was watching your face intently as he didn't want to cause you pain.

"Just don't move for a second, you're so big I need to get used to the stretch." It was painful a and pleasant at the same time - the way he filled you up. He didn't buck his hips as you asked, instead he kissed your lips, your jaw, neck, and you kissed him back with passion. Soon he started rocking into you and you moaned into his mouth.

"Harder." you managed to say between the panting and kissing. He straightened up and increased the tempo, sweat building on his forehead.

"Harder..." you said and his hand went to your throat while he almost crushed into you. He choked you lightly, and you felt the orgasm building already.

"Daddy... harder..."

"You dirty girl. On all fours." You obediently followed his order and soon he was fucking you doggy style, his hand spanking you lightly. "You like that? You like when daddy takes you hard?" His voice was so low you shivered under him.

"Yes, daddy." you moaned out when his huge dick filled you with each thrust.

"You're so dirty and good to your daddy. I will reward you and play with your other hole." Before you could say anything he spat on your ass and his finger danced around the other entrance. Just that was enough for you to see white. Your toes curled and your head went back, you screamed his name like it was the only thing keeping you alive, and you could feel how he twitched inside you when you clenched around him in orgasm spasm.

"Y/N, ah... I'm cumming, I'm…" he said through gritted teeth while pounding into you. You both reached your highs and fell onto the bed. He discarded the condom and started kissing your back lazily.

"Do you want to shower together?" he asked.

"Yes, but I don't think I have enough energy to go for another round…" you said while turning his way. He was looking at you lovingly, his expression completely fucked out. He was beautiful, the most handsome you've ever seen him actually. You sighed when his fingers brushed off hair from your face in sweet gesture.

"That's ok, I'll just shower you and we can go to sleep." You nodded, and he took your hand and guided you to his bathroom. He switched on the shower and pulled you under the water when it was warm already. He was so delicate with you, soaping your body, shampooing your head. You smiled at him warmly, and he chuckled.

"You're really cute." he said with a smile after making and weird shapes out of your shampooed hair.

"Stop it, I'll blush." you said while getting under the water, he was quickly spooning you, kissing your back almost with devotion.

"Good, you're even cuter when you blush."

You both towelled yourself dry and Jaebeom even brushed your hair for you before pulling you back to bed. You cuddled your face into his chest and he closed his arms around you. You didn't know if it was one-night stand only, but you'd worry about your possibly broken heart in the morning since his scent was already inviting you to the dreamworld.

You woke up to some rumbling. You opened your eyes and shot up, fear washing over you — that wasn't your bedroom. Memories of last night came next, and you fell back to the sheets squealing quietly into his pillow. That's when the realization hit you. What if it was just one-night stand, and you were rolling around his bed happily in love like an idiot? You sighed but before you could do anything, the man in question came to the bedroom smiling at you warmly.

"You finally woke up sleepyhead." He sat next to you and bend down to kiss your cheek. You looked down. "What's wrong? Have I done something?" He looked concerned.

"I.. no." You said sitting up, and he raised his brow on you. Ugh, he was looking great wearing a plain gray hoodie. You sighed.

"Was that one just for one night? If it was a one-night stand tell me now before I do something stupid."

"One-night stand?" He looked at you offended. "One-night stand?! Do you even know for how long I've been crushing on you? It was few years of my desperate attempts to ask you out, buying you coffee, looking for you constantly. Hell, I even made Yugyeom exchange the stupid lottery draw with me, so that I could give you that card. I actually thought that would helped me out with asking you out. One-night stand?! Jesus, Y/N, he made me basically his slave for a day, and you're asking me if it's one-night stand?" He was angry, and you looked at him shocked, you have never seen him like that. "Do you want this to be one-night stand?!" he raised his voice again.

"No!" you answered him immediately.

"No?! Great, then you can... wait you said no?" He cleared his throat, and you could actually see him smiling like an idiot before he cleared it again. "Well… good because I made us lunch already, and it would go to waste otherwise." He tried to act cool. You giggled at him and pushed him down before sitting on top of him.

"You're cute." You said and he blushed looking away.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are. You are the cutest actually." He groaned in response getting even more red, and you giggled once again. It was the first time you got him to blush so much, usually it was just light pink appearing on the apples of his cheeks. You kissed his face leaving pecks all over it, he chuckled before speaking again.

"I don't want this to be one-night stand. I like you I was actually planning on asking you out yesterday."

"You were?"

"I was. So would like to go out with me?" he wiggled his brows at you and you grinned before nodding.

"Mmm. I'd love to." you answered and he pulled you for a lazy kiss.

"Come, I prepared some food for you. It's hardly festive, but it's something"

"I'm sure it's great. I just need to put something on myself first."

"You can have my hoodie and sweats." he said while looking through his cabinet. "Here." He handed you clothes and blushed once again mumbling that he will wait for you in the kitchen. He got embarrassed — that was just too cute.

You slipped in his clothes, his smell wrapping around you. You got out of the bedroom only to be greeted by three cats purring and brushing against your legs. You smiled and petted them, scratching them on their chins. Jaebeom was just standing and staring at you, still not believing his luck. You were wearing his blouse, it was hanging on you like a dress basically and his heart ached at this picture. You looked up and grinned.

"They like me!"

"I'm pretty sure they're going to like you more than they like me." He chuckled. "Now come, let's eat."

You nodded and entered his kitchen, there was kimchi jjigae and rice prepared for both of you. You smiled and sat down already salivating because of the delicious smell.

"Merry Christmas Y/N." He said looking up from his dish.

"Merry Christmas Jaebeom." You smiled at him lovingly. "So what did Yugyeom made you do?"

"Don't even ask." He said and you giggled. Let's just say you didn't get to spend the Christmas break alone in the bed like you wished.

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canyouerasemyscarsandbemysoilder · 3 years

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Chance Encounter

Type: One Shot about Grayson Dolan Rating: Rated PG Word Count: 3600+ Pairing: Grayson and Riley Enjoy!

Her 18th birthday was coming up and she was dreading it. Turning 18 here just meant that she would have to marry the guy her father picked for her. A guy she never met before but she hated that thought of having to marry someone. She didn't even know if she truly wanted to get married. She wanted a life where she just depended on herself, not some guy she barely even knew. She was walking home from school when her best friend caught up with her.

"Riley, wait up," Joshua said. "What Josh?" Riley said as she waited for him to catch up. "Just wanted to walk with you" he smiled softly. "Thank you but honestly don't want to go home," she said. "Wedding dress fitting?" Josh said. "Yea, I don't want to get married," she said. "Why can't you stop it?" Josh said. "It's tradition," Riley sighed. "I'm sure you can get out of it," Josh said. "I'm trying my best," Riley said. "Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand.

He led her to the path behind the school. Going down towards the lake. She placed her bag on the table and went down towards the water. She loved being by the water, the sound of nature was peaceful. The peace was disrupted by her phone going off, she sighed and walked back up the shore. Grabbing her bag and hugging Josh before leaving. She was making her way towards her house when these guys ran past her. Knocking her over, scraping her knee on the sidewalk.

"WATCH IT!" She yelled out. "I'm sorry for them," Someone said as they held out their hand. "Thanks," She said as she grabbed his hand getting up. "I am sorry. Are you ok?" He asked. "Just scraps but I'll live," she said as she looked at him. "Good" he smiled slightly as their eyes met. "Are you new in town?" she questioned. "Something like that," he responded. "I'm Riley" she looked at him. "I'm Grayson," he smiled. "Nice to meet you. Will I see you around town?" she questioned. "Leaving town as quickly as I can but I'll be around for a few days" he responded. "See you" She smiled as she walked away.

A small notebook fell from her book bag without her noticing. She walked away and disappeared around the corner as he picked up the book. He rushed behind her but couldn't seem to find her. He caught up with his friends as she made it home. Walking in the apartment and it seemed like the wedding dress fairy threw up in the living room.

"You are late," her mother said. "I know, trying to avoid this, '' Riley said as she rolled her eyes. "Oh come on you will love it," Her mother said. "I'm sure I won't," She responded. "Just go try some dressing on" her mother pushed her into the other room.

Riley tried a few dresses on and she hated every single one of them. The last dress she tried on was her dream wedding dress. She came out and her mother knew it was the one. Putting the veil on Riley as Riley looked at herself in the mirror.

"This one is perfect," Riley said. "Yea it is," her mother said. "Perfect for the moment I decide to get married," Riley said. "Two more days' her mother responded. "No, not in two days! I want it on my terms with a guy I love" Riley said. "Honey this is what it is meant to be," Her mother said. "No, it's not!" Riley said as she stormed off back into the other room.

She slammed the door making sure it was locked. Leaning against the wall as the tears slipped from her eyes onto her cheeks. This dress was the perfect one but it should be for the perfect guy. She wiped her eyes and took the dress off, placing it back in the bag it came out of. Getting dressed and leaving the room, without speaking a word she went straight to her room. She searched through her bag looking for her notebook realizing she must have dropped it.

"This day just gets better," she said to herself.

She grabbed another notebook and started to write. Putting her headphones in listening to music, just being in her little world for a while. She didn't realize what time it was until her father barged into her room and pulled her headphones out of her ear.

"Get downstairs for dinner," he said. "Excuse you," she said as she stood up. "You heard me, now go," he said as he grabbed her arm. 'Alright let go" She said as she pulled away and went downstairs.

She sat down next to her brother as her mother already made her plate. She sat in silence as they started to eat. She finally started to eat.

"So your mother told me you found a dress," her father said. "That I'm not wearing," Riley said. "You will wear it in two days," her father said. "Why can't I get a say?" she questioned. "Because girls don't get a say in our tradition," he said. "It's time to change that tradition," she said. "You don't get to make that choice," he said. "It will be perfect, you just have to wait," he said. "I'm not going!" She said, "You will," he said. "I can't believe this family," she said as she got up from the table. "Don't be rude, ask if you can be excused" he said. "Can I be?" she crossed her arms. "Yes, now do your school work and then onto getting ready for bed," he said. "Whatever," she said as she went back upstairs.

She laid down on the bed and just stared at the ceiling. She ended up falling asleep. She awoke in the morning when the sun peeked through the window. She got out of bed and quickly got ready for school, wanting to get out of the house as quickly as possible. She grabbed a bottle of water and left the house, heading towards school.

"Slow down," Someone said behind her. "What Josh?" She said as she turned but it wasn't Josh. "Oh hey," she smiled as she saw Grayson. "You dropped this yesterday and I didn't know how to get it to you," he said as he handed her notebook. "That's where it went," she grabbed the book. "Thank you," she said. "I didn't read it, '' he said as he walked with her. "You would only read how much I hate my family," she said. "Well then make your own" he suggested. What do you mean?" she questioned. "Leave them and just do it on your own, find friends that make you happy," he said. "Wish it was that easy," she said. "It is, you just can't be scared to jump," he said. "Fear always holds us back from living our lives," she said. "Yea so don't be scared," he said. "Anyway I'm leaving tonight, meet me at the station?" he asked. "The train station?" she questioned. "Yea the train station" he nodded as he stopped walking. "When night falls before the train leaves, I'll wait," he said. "I'll think about it," she said. "See you tonight," he said as he walked away.

She watched him walk away until she couldn't see him anymore. She turned and started to walk towards school. All-day she just couldn't get him off her mind. She knew that tomorrow would be the day her life would forever be changed. A change she didn't want nor was she ready for it. Tomorrow was the day she would have to say I do or tonight was the night to break free. She didn't know what to do but she couldn't focus all day. She was in the courtyard when Josh caught up with her.

"Hey, you," he said as he sat next to her. "Hey," she said. "What's wrong?" he asked her. "The wedding is tomorrow," she said. "I know. What are you going to do?" he asked. "I was thinking about something," she said. "What Riley?" he questioned. "I'm leaving," she said. "What do you mean?" He looked at her. "I'm going to buy a ticket and leave. I'm of age and there's nothing they can do" she said. "Sounds like a plan but please stay safe," Josh said as he hugged her. "Please text me so I know you are safe," he said. "I will," she said as she hugged him back.

She left school and went back to the house, once again there was a bunch of wedding stuff in the living room. She walked by and went straight to her room, thinking about what Grayson said. Was it silly to want to go with him? She just met him but in some way, she felt safe with him. She sat on her balcony and wrote in her notebook. She had everything any girl would die for but it's not what she wanted. She was comfortable but maybe it was time to start fresh and get a new start. As the sun started to set she started to pack a few things in her bag. Making her way to her father's office, opening the safe. She only took the money that was meant for her and the wedding. She sneaked out the back door and started making her way to the train station. She finally made it to the station, she looked around for him but she couldn't find him. She bought a ticket anyway, no matter if he was there or not she wanted to leave.

"Guess I'll start fresh by myself," she said. "All by yourself?" a stranger said. "What?" She responded as she faced him. "You are a pretty little thing," the guy said as he got closer to her. "I'm not interested," she said as she backed away from him. 'Oh come on sweetheart" the guy grabbed her hand. "Please don't touch me," she said as she pulled away from him. "Come on," he said. "You won't regret it," he said. "She said no so back off," Grayson said as he pulled the guy back. "I wasn't talking to you, '' the guy said. "Well I'm talking to you, leave her alone '' Grayson said. "Back off dude," the guy said.

With those words, it angered Grayson. He pulled the guy away from Riley and punched him. Knocking him to the ground, hitting him a few more times. Grayson then turned to Riley to make sure she was ok.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "Yea I'm ok, but are you?" she asked as she grabbed his hand. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding. "Yea I'll be alright," he said. "I thought you left," she said. "And I thought you weren't coming," he said. "Well here I am," she nodded. "Let's go," he said as he reached for his hand. "Let's go" she grabbed his hand and went onto the train with him.

The train left the station as her father walked into her room. She left a note on the bed and he realized that she was gone. He grabbed the note and went downstairs where her mother was at.

"Where is Riley?" Her mother asked. "She left this note but I don't see her," he responded. "Are you serious? We have to call the police" her mother said. "She's of age after midnight so there's not much they could do," he said. "There has to be something," her mother said. "Unfortunately no" her father sighed as he sat down.

Her mother started to panic and started calling Riley's phone. Riley was sat next to Grayson, not knowing what to do. It was her first time on a train so she had no clue what to expect. She looked down at her phone realizing that her mom was calling her. She kept ignoring the calls and ended up turning off her phone.

"Guess they noticed I was gone," she said. "You left a note?" Grayson asked. "Yea I did" she nodded. "I know it's hard leaving but I'm sure you have a good reason," he said. "Yea I do" She looked at Grayson. "Just want to be free," she said. "Freedom from our parents," he said. "You are on the run too?" she questioned. "Something like that" he laid back in the seat. "How old are you?" she asked. "I'm 19, you?" he asked. "I'm turning 18 in about an hour," she said. "Oh so tomorrow is your birthday," he smiled. "Well let me do the honors and be the first to say Happy Birthday," he said. "Thanks" She smiled. "To new adventures," he said as he grabbed two drinks from the drink cart. "To new adventures," she said as she grabbed the drink. Clinking them together as they both took a sip.

Grayson sat back down next to her. They started talking and time just seemed to melt away. She laid her head down on his shoulder as they talked. She started to drift off to sleep, he wrapped his jacket around her. Allowing her to sleep against him as he leaned back, starting to drift off himself. Around 7 am the train stopped and it was time to get off, he gently woke her up.

"Morning sleepyhead, time to get off," he said. "Morning" she yawned as she got up.

They got off the train, she didn't know where they were. He did because this was a town that he would normally visit once or twice a year. Plus he grew up here during the summers so he knew his way around. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the station. Taking her to one of his favorite spots, where he would always go when he was younger.

"How do you know your way around? she asked as he held the door open for her. "Because we would come here once or twice a year, plus like every summer," he said as he followed her. "Oh nice" she nodded as she sat down. "Yea never been here during the fall though," he said as he sat next to her. "It's so pretty here," she said. 'What's good here?" she questioned as she looked at the menu. "Anything really," he said. "I normally get the soup," he said. "The cheddar soup?" she asked. "Think I'll get that plus some breadsticks," she said. "That's a good combo," he said.

They ordered what they wanted. He turned to her and they picked up where they left off last night. They were laughing and carrying on like they knew each other forever. The food arrived at the table and things got quiet. Once he finished eating he went to the counter. Ordering a few milkshakes before paying the bill. She was still eating when he returned with the shakes.

"Milkshakes?" she smiled. "Of course," he said as he placed them on the table. "No rush though," he said as he sat next to her. "I'm a slow eater," she said. "That's fine," he smiled softly. "Did you pay already?" she asked. "I have money," she said. "I got it," he nodded. "Thanks," she said as she finished eating.

They left the restaurant and he showed her around town for a few hours. The wind started to pick up as they started to walk. He offered her his hoodie and she gladly took it. Putting it on as they continued to walk around town. He yelled for a taxi and opened the door for her. They got in and he gave the driver an address and they were off. They arrived at the house right around when it started to get dark. He reached for her hand to help her get out of the car. She grabbed it and got out, following him inside the dark house.

"What are we doing here?" she whispered. "We are staying here," he said as he flipped on a light. "Wait what?" she asked. "Well at least for a few days," he said. "Oh, do you know the owners?" she looked at him. "You are looking at him," he said. "Oh," she nodded. "Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand.

He led her out towards the backyard, the view was breathtaking. The mountains in the distance, the sky full of stars. The moon was so bright it was like the universe was telling her that everything was going to be ok. She sat on the deck and looked up at the sky. He sat next to her and watched the stars with her.

"Why would you run away from this place?" she asked. "I wasn't running from this place but my home," he said. "This is beautiful" she looked at him. "You are beautiful," he said as he looked at her. "Stop" She started blushing as she looked back up. "It's true," he said as he placed his hand on her cheek.

She looked at him, their eyes met once more. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. She moved a little closer to him. He leaned in towards her, placing his lips against hers. Kissing her slowly as she placed her hand against his chest. She kept the kiss between them as she placed her hand on his cheek. He gently pulled at her bottom lip, placing his hands on her hips pulling her closer. He slowly pulled away as his phone started to ring. He got up from the deck and went inside quickly to answer the phone. Only seconds later he came out with a cupcake with a candle on it. Knowing today was her birthday, he smiled as he sat down next to her.

"Happy birthday," he said. "Aw thank you," she said as she took the cupcake. "Make a wish," he said. "Um," She closed her eyes and blew out the candle. "I know it's not much," he said. "It's enough" she looked at him. "Today was the day that was supposed to change my life," he said. "Same" she responded. "Same?" he questioned. "Today was my wedding day," she said. "Whoa what?" he moved from her. "You have a fiance?" he said. "No, I don't have a fiance. It's an arrangement but I left" she said. "An arranged marriage?" he moved closer to her. "Yea it's tradition," she said. "Oh," he nodded. "Why was today supposed to change your life?" she questioned. "Not important," he said.

She nodded and decided to go back into the house. She went upstairs looking around, she found the bedroom. He followed her upstairs and leaned against the door frame. Just watching her look around the room. She sat on the bed and laid back, looking up at the ceiling. To her surprise, she was staring right at herself in a mirror.

"I didn't put that there," Grayson said with a chuckle. "It's kinda cute but really weird," she laughed. "Yea it is," he said as he laid next to her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked as placed his arm around her. "Just stuff" she looked at him. "I'm sorry your family put you through that," he said. "At least I got out of that situation," she said as she turned on her side facing him. "Yea but if I never came along would you have gotten married?" he asked, brushing the hair out of her face. "I would have still left because I didn't want to get married," she said. "You should stick up for what you believe in," he said. "Thank you" she leaned over and kissed him softly.

He smiled against her lips before kissing her back. She cuddled close to his chest and started to fall asleep. He wasn't too far behind her as he fell asleep holding her in his arms. In the morning she woke up alone in the bed, sitting up stretching as she turned her phone back on. Her father and mother had sent plenty of messages. She sighed and opened the ones from her father's. She read through them and he just told her that she lost a chance of marrying a prince. She kept scrolling down, she gasped and her phone dropped to the floor. Her father sent a picture of the guy she was meant to marry and it was a picture of Grayson. Funny how the universe works out. Grayson walked upstairs with breakfast on a tray. He put it on the bed as he kneeled in front of her. It was like she was frozen in time not knowing what to do.

"Babe?" he said as he shook her arm gently. "Are you ok?" he asked. "It's you," she said as she looked at him. "What?" He looked at her confused. "It's you," she said once again. "Me what?" He grabbed her phone and saw the message. "I had no idea," he said.

She stayed quiet not knowing what to say. How was it just a few days short of her wedding day when he arrived in town. It should have clicked sooner for her but it didn't. Now she didn't know what to do, plus he was a prince. What did he have to run away from or was he running to find her? Did he know that she didn't want to get married to him so he had to find her to change her mind? There were so many questions running through her mind and she didn't even know where to start.

#Dolan Twins #Dolan Twins Imagines #Dolan Twins Imagine #Dolan Twins Blurb #Dolan Twins Blurbs #Dolan Twins Preference #Dolan Twins Preferences #Dolan Twins Writing #Dolan Twins Writings #Grayson Dolan #Grayson Dolan Imagines #Grayson Dolan Imagine #Grayson Dolan Preferences #Grayson Dolan Prefernece #Grayson Dolan Writing #Grayson Dolan Writings #Grayson Dolan Blurb #Grayson Dolan Blurbs

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unfortunatelyilikebnha · 3 years

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Me making headcanons for friendships that get little to no screentime but I’m way too invested in anyways? More likely than you’d think 🥰 (it’s been a while since I’ve done a long ass headcanon post so let’s fuckin goooooooo)

Gonna start with the one I think about the most often (platonic shouchako):

After Midoriya and Iida become friends with Todoroki, obviously Uraraka wants to be his friend too since he’s important to her two closest friends

She starts inviting to him to do things with her, like joining lil competitions with classmates and baking and shit

Todoroki is confused why she’s suddenly inviting him to do all these things with her but he finds her to be pleasant company so he goes along with it

They actually make a good team, especially when they’re motivated (which since Uraraka is very competitive and Todoroki is fairly competitive himself, is often). They destroy their classmates at shit like class water gun fights and prank wars. They are a truly terrifying duo and the rest of the class is wary at best whenever they’re on the same team

One day Uraraka offhandedly refers to Todoroki as her friend and Todoroki’s like “??? You wanna be my friend?” and Uraraka’s like “uhh I already am your friend? What did you think I was doing all this time?” and Todoroki (who hasn’t really made friends outside of the context of fighting)’s like “oh. Thank you” and maybe smiles a little

Uraraka is overcome with the strong feeling that she would die for him (Iida and Midoriya are like “join the club”)

ANYWAYS they like training together since Uraraka specializes in close combat and Todoroki specializes in ranged combat, and they spar fairly often

They have a running bet over who will defeat the other in training more by the end of the year. It’s low stakes (the loser just has to make the winner their favorite food), but they like the competition

Uraraka learns that Todoroki has a sweet tooth, so she asks Sato to teach the two of them to bake, and baking together kinda becomes their thing, it’s relaxing and they enjoy it. They do it both for fun and when one of them has a bad day

Todoroki buys Uraraka little gifts, like he’ll see her favorite type of mochi at the store and get it for her or he gets her a Kirby plushy because “it looks like her” (Uraraka jokingly chases him around for that one)

They commiserate with Iida about Midoriya’s bone breaking habits and general self destructive tendencies and the three of them team up to try and get him to care for himself more. They also team up with Midoriya to get Iida to be less hard on himself. They are the Midoriya And Iida Support And Appreciation Squad.

Uraraka thinks Todoroki’s sense of humor is fucking HILARIOUS and Todoroki takes advantage of this to try to make her laugh at inopportune times (almost no one believes her when she complains about this because they’re like “Todoroki? Making jokes? Seems unlikely.” Uraraka has decided that he is the incarnation of evil). She swears revenge on him every time though the revenge is usually something silly like sneak attacking him to ruffle his hair so the colors are all messed up and it sticks up funny

She’s actually one of the people he texts most often, both while they’re at school and as pro heroes (while they both deeply care about their friends Todoroki is the type to accidentally fall out of contact if other people don’t initiate, and though busy Uraraka refuses to let that happen).

Sometimes he sends her weird ass memes at odd hours of the night & when she wakes up the next morning she’s like “what the fuck. Todoroki what does this mean.” He usually just sends her :) in return which explains absolutely nothing.

If anyone ever insults one of them within the other’s earshot, it’s on sight. Uraraka got detention for a week after punching a second year who said Todoroki’s scar was ugly, and Todoroki got detention for two weeks after icing someone who made fun of the state of Uraraka’s clothes. Neither one of them can bring themselves to regret it.

When Uraraka has a bad day, Todoroki is good at silently offering her support by being near her, sometimes giving off heat or cool if she’d benefit from it, and not asking her questions but being willing to listen to what she has to say if she wants to tell someone about what’s bothering her

When Todoroki has a bad day, Uraraka notices and gives him space but also reminds him that his friends love him and offers him an opportunity to talk about what’s bothering him if he wants to + says she’ll punch whoever made him sad (he has no doubt that if he wanted her to, she’d actually do it, no matter who it was that was bothering him, which is an oddly heartwarming thought)

Whenever Iida or Midoriya teases one of them, they playfully go “friendship ended with (Iida/Midoriya), (Uraraka/Todoroki) is my new best friend” then laugh (Uraraka) or look outwardly blank while hiding secret amusement (Todoroki) when Iida/Midoriya is thrown off guard and/or jokingly tries to “get their best friend back” (they r all best friends actually so this is of course all in good fun :’) )

Todoroki knows how to braid because Fuyumi and his mom taught him in an attempt to create some nice memories while Uraraka doesn’t know how since her hair has never really been long enough to braid. However there’s a period of time where Uraraka hasn’t been able to cut her hair for a while since she’s been so busy, and her front hair pieces have started blowing into her eyes. When she complains to Todoroki about this and says she’d braid it back if she knew how to, Todoroki offers to do it for her and teach her how. She enthusiastically accepts, and brags to the rest of the class how good Todoroki is at braiding (which may start a trend of class 1a asking Todoroki to braid their hair - even though most of them can do it themselves - but he doesn’t mind). Todoroki teaches her how to braid and at first she uses his hair for practice, but she picks it up quickly and now likes to braid Tsuyu’s hair for her. They still occasionally braid each other’s hair for fun though

When Uraraka discovers Todoroki’s kind of touch starved but actually seems to like physical affection from his friends, she makes it her mission to give him more of it by ruffling his hair and playfully nudging him and hugging him sometimes. The rest of the class picks up on this and starts joining in, to Uraraka’s (and Todoroki’s secret) delight

Todoroki can and will fall asleep everywhere, and once that starts including “on his friends”, Uraraka makes it her mission to make sure nobody wakes him up unless absolutely necessary bc he’s Tired and deserves a rest

Uraraka is hungry a lot, especially when she overuses her quirk, and though she tends to ignore it and say that she’s used to it, Todoroki starts carrying snacks around with him and slipping them into her bag/locker/pockets/onto her desk when she’s not looking. She’s sure he’s the one doing it but she’s never caught him and he denies it every time she asks him about it, so she can’t really do anything about it except eat the snacks

Todoroki helps Uraraka study sometimes because Iida is great but he’s not necessarily great at figuring out why she’s struggling with certain concepts and Midoriya is great but he tends to latch onto a small detail of the assignment and ramble about it while forgetting what he was originally trying to explain and Yaoyorozu’s great but her study group is already pretty big and Uraraka doesn’t necessarily want to add another person to her plate or be in such a big group since she’d get distracted, meanwhile Todoroki’s pretty decent at identifying the roots of problems and explaining them and he’s quiet enough otherwise that he makes for a pleasant study partner. Her class rank has actively improved because of this, and she made him soba to thank him for his help

I’ll probably add more in the future but when I tried to post this a few days ago tumblr acted like this didn’t exist and tried to convince me it was deleted or smth so I’m gonna post it now while I can actually see it anyways appreciate shouchako friendship!!

#uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #did I cry over my own headcanons? ...perhaps #and yeah ik there’s a lot of Mido and Iida in here too but I love the izukrew 🥺#I’m so mad I had more but tumblr crashed and I forgot some >:////#anyways PLEASE join me in my shouchako friendship brainrot I care them and I wish they got to be better friends in canon #oh btw this isn’t meant to be ship but I don’t particularly care if you want to tag it as such

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shepherds-of-haven · 4 years

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How would the romances with the RO's be in a college!AU? And how would the romance start?

Hmm I don’t know necessarily what they’d be like without having to write the college!AU myself lol, it sort of would depend on how the story itself went! As for how they start...

Blade: classic. Blade and MC bump into each other on campus when they’re both preoccupied with something--literally bump. Books go spilling everywhere. They bend down to pick them up. Look up and BAM. Blade has a crush. But then MC has to hurry away because they’re in a rush until next semester. They have a class together! But Blade is too shy to talk to MC so MC thinks he’s forgotten her/doesn’t recognize her. They have more classes together and with each shared class, he plucks up the courage to talk to her after she drops a pencil and he picks it up (now their desks are actually next to each other). They start hanging out under the guise of being study partners for all their shared classes.

Trouble: he’s playing a game of toss the football or frisbee golf or whatever in the quad and either he or his friend nails MC in the head with a projectile. Trouble comes jogging over and profusely apologizes. MC slyly or jokingly suggests he buy them dinner to make up for giving them a concussion and he readily agrees. That’s their first date!

Tallys: she’s growing plants in the student lab as part of her thesis and is frustrated that one of her plants is struggling to grow. She goes outside to smoke and starts talking to herself out loud in frustration. “The conditions are exactly the same. Why would one ____ specimen weaken while the others thrived?” MC is also outside (either smoking as well or just tending to other plants) and says, “It sounds like being on the end of the row is hampering its roots. Maybe because they grow westward?” Tallys whirls around and is like ‘who the fuck are you??’ all suspicious this is a rival student who’s trying to sabotage her thesis. But MC just likes plants! They talk a bit more and Tallys reluctantly agrees to try re-potting the weak specimen in a bigger container (idk I don’t know plants, you get the picture). A week later, the plant is thriving! Tallys waits in the same spot outside to see if MC will show up, not smoking this time. She crosses her arms and says, “You were right about the plant. I’ll buy you dinner as thanks for saving my thesis.” MC accepts but replies they don’t need the thanks. Tallys smirks. “Consider it a bribe, then. I bet I’ll need you for future consultations.”

Shery: she’s working in the coffee shop and MC comes by every once in a while and makes conversation, pairing the coffee with a winning smile. Shery falls head over heels, but surprisingly doesn’t get nervous or stammers when MC comes in. In fact, she looks forward to it! But their interactions are always a few minutes every few days, until one day Briony is behind the counter too and does something sly like suggest they look cute together or writes Shery’s phone number on a napkin for MC or something. MC gets it, smiles at Shery, and says, “Can I take you out for a coffee? Somewhere that’s... not here, I guess.” Briony: “You can do it here!” Shery: “Yes!”

Riel: he’s playing piano in one of the practice rooms and, as he’s leaving, he sees MC leaning on the wall opposite of the practice room door. Riel asks MC if they’re waiting for anyone, as he’d reserved the room for several hours, and MC answers, “No, I just heard you playing and it was so beautiful that I got lost in the music. It’s Scarlatti, right?” Riel gets a huge brain-boner and gives MC his number under the guise of offering ‘free piano lessons’ if MC wants to learn. MC surprises him by actually showing up!

Chase: Chase gets a starring role in the play he secretly auditioned for, but he’s super nervous because he’s never acted in anything before and doesn’t want to fuck it up for the other play members. MC, an actor in a minor role, hears him fretting over the phone one night to Trouble or someone and offers to help him rehearse and ease his anxiety. They start meeting up to read lines together, MC coaching him, and the chemistry between them steadily builds. Chase realizes during rehearsal--when he has to kiss his star opposite--that it’s really MC he’d like to be kissing, and right after that he takes them out on a date and confesses his feelings!

Red: MC and Red are assigned to be lab partners together in a science class, and they start flirting from the get-go, talking about the CHEMISTRY between them as they measure stuff in beakers. They exchange numbers for class and start meeting at Red’s dorm/townhouse for study sessions. One day they give up early and put on a movie, but neither of them are really concentrating on the movie. Before even halfway they’re making out on the couch!

Ayla: Ayla gets drunk at a party and meets MC. She’s so plastered she’s dancing all up on MC and shouting things like “you’re pretty! I like you! I’m gonna marry you someday!” At the end of the night she loses Briony and Lavinet, so MC offers to walk her home to make sure she gets there safely. Ayla is either so drunk MC gives her a piggyback ride or they have to hold hands the whole way. (Ayla gets lost and doesn’t remember where she lives several times.) When they get to her doorstep she grabs MC and kisses them, but they gently ease away and see her safely indoors. In the morning Ayla wants to die from the embarrassment and contemplates jumping from the window. Instead she rides on her Vespa to her favorite breakfast diner for some hangover cures and what do you know! MC works at that restaurant part-time and reveals they thought they recognized her as a regular but weren’t sure... but the Vespa seals it. Still humiliated, Ayla buys them breakfast on their break but quickly realizes she wants to spend more time with them when the meal is over, so she asks for their number!

Briony: Briony is training at her MMA gym and hitting a punching bag pretty hard, venting out her frustrations for the day. MC, who also trains at the gym, comes over and asks if she’d like a sparring partner instead of a bag; Briony laughs and says, “Only if you’re okay with getting hit.” “Wouldn’t have come over if I wasn’t,” MC quips. They spar, and the electricity and flirtation between them is pretty obvious. Briony is grinning--she hasn’t fought anyone like this for a while--but then she glances up and thinks she sees a face watching her in the gym’s front window. Her mood immediately deflates, and MC notices. They notice that she seems nervous or anxious, so they offer to walk her out to her car. Briony shakes her head and asks if they’d like to grab a milkshake or dinner at this diner down the road instead; she needs to take her mind off things. MC agrees and soon enough, Briony’s laughing and happy again. They have such a good time that they exchange numbers and agree to make it a routine: sparring and then eating together!

Lavinet: Lavinet’s in this higher-level class--I don’t know, say it’s like... fashion design, or pre-law or something. At the end of the semester, the professor chooses a handful of students to go with her to Paris for a study abroad trip/internship. Lavinet’s pretty assured that she’ll get one of the slots because her father is a good friend of the professor. But then MC shows up and starts beating her in class: answering all the questions first or correctly, getting just one point above her on tests, etc. It drives Lavinet crazy, and they become rivals. Lavinet regularly snubs him and gives him the cold shoulder, feeling competitive. MC gives it right back. But then they find out a third person is planning on cheating in order to get that internship slot, and MC and Lavinet vow to beat them the traditional way. Putting aside their differences in the face of a common enemy, Lavinet and MC become allies and study buddies. Eventually Lavinet deigns to give MC the opportunity to ask her out, at the end of the semester when they find out that they’re the two who have gotten the internship. The entire time she insisted she hated MC’s guts, but everyone else in her life saw through it lol. Maybe their first date is in Paris!

#Shepherds of Haven #college AU #modern AU #AU #college #university #romance options #romance #anon

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pyraffin-drgo · 3 years

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All Heavy interactions in Poker Night at the Inventory.

For you to interpret however you wish.

Video Version

(They have [bootleg movies] in your country?) "I like movies, yes." (Yeah, like what? [Lists movies]?) "No. My favorite are The Dirty Dozen and the first twenty minutes of Rocky four."

(We can talk Tetris?) "Hmmph. Tetris is baby game." (Tetris Attack keeps it hood!) "Why does everybody think I love this Tetris? It is just stacking!"

"[To Strongbad] Tiny Heavy." (What is it?) "Do you get the nightmares?" (I get the jibblie nightmares. [Describes silly nightmare, shivers].) "I am talking about the visions of endless suffering. Dead doctors everywhere. Spy can not be found. (No, but that sounds like the Jibblies.) "I do not like these 'jibblies.'"

"Strong and bad. How is boxing career?" (These. Are. My. HANDS!) "I was boxer, once. In school. We have to either box or learn to herd goats." Silence, looking concerned. "I am not good with goats..." (Too much information, man.) "At first, I do not like punching other boys... But then I learn to love it." Punches his palm menacingly.

(Find any rare drops lately?) "I do not understand." (When you get a kill, you get a present?) "When I get kill, I get honor of team." Smile drops. "Sometimes... I also get nightmares. A man does not go home to his wife and children." (So, no loot?) "Oh! You mean hat! Yes, I love hats! Sometimes, I get these. They are the best."

(Hey, Heavy. You know any hot Russian spies?) "I hate spies." (But you gotta have the inside line on some deadly minxes.) "You want hot spy?" (Am I not wrestle man?) "I have friend who gets you a hot spy. (Get em on the two-way, man!) "His name is Pyro." (Tycho, to Strongbad: The spy is hot because it is on fire.) (Oh...)

"[To Tycho] What do you do with life?" (Me?) "Yes. What is possible with tiny, frail body?" (I occupy myself with simulations... of various kinds.) "What is these?" (Struggles to explain.) (Strongbad: He lives in his parent's basement.)

(So, is there a Mrs. Weapons Guy?) "No. Sasha is my only love." (Sasha kills people, I presume?) "No." (Oh?) "WE kill people."

"[To Strongbad] Maybe you and I box?" (I can't risk my beautiful face, it's the franchise.) "We spar. For fun." (I don't think so.)

"Strong and bad. You wrestle? With mask?" (No, I'm a wrestle man, not those hack wrestle-LERS.) "Not like Iron Sheik?" (No, Iron Stake is a LER.) Heavy nods. "Hmm. This is too bad."

(So how long you been with those Team Fortress fellas?) "I do not understand." (The game's been on Steam for like 3 years. I imagine there was some audition process?) "Ohhh! Yes, I understand! I kill many men VERY quickly." (Excuse me?) "I kill record number of soldiers, and I am commissioned to join RED team."

(Mr. Weapons. I am in the market for a new firearm. [Specifications].) "Hmm, for you I do not recommend minigun then. You know, there is this fast baby man that annoys me greatly with shotgun." (Oh! Oh! What are the available options? I'll spring for leather!) "Da, this is good for you. I suggest Force-A-Nature." (I'll tell them [shop owner] Heavy Weapons Guy sent me.) "It is no need. I know guy."

"I will make hat from you, little bunny." No reply from anyone. A reference for the player to the Max hat in TF2.

"You look familiar, bunny." (How closely do you follow the Manhattan Crime Blotter?) Also a reference to the hat, Tycho then takes over conversation.

(If I need someone snuffed out, what's your going rate?) "Five hundred thousand U.S. dollars." (Steep.) "Cash." (You can do it discreetly?) "Sasha... not so discreet." (That's fine.)

(How did you guys hear of the inventory?) "My engineering friend brought me one night."

(This reminds me of the time Artie Flopshark rigged an entire poker tournament to pay off his loan shark.) "I know of this. This is respectable profession in motherland." Conversation is stolen by Tycho.

(This reminds me of [story]!) "I am reminded of time Engineer kill my entire team." (Damn Heavy, that's... heavy. Sorry to hear that.) "I search entire base for him. He tries to kill me with turret and mini turret, but I crush his toys like they are made of paper." (Sounds like crappy toys.) "Then I find him. Hiding by teleporter. I take his gun away from him. He tries to hit me with wrench! Hahohoh! So I take wrench away from him. I take his wrench and shove it down his throat, all the way down to the handle." (Christ!) Heavy laughs. "Then I rip off all his fingers one by one!" He talks while laughing. "Lets see you build toys now!" He breaks out in laughter. "There's blood- everywhere! And- he's crying!" More laughter. "I think he cries out for mother, but- but-" Crumples over laughing. "The wrench is stuck in his throat! And it sounds like-" Makes choking motions and noises then laughs. "Is this not the funniest thing??" (Horrified looks) (Head shakes slowly.) (That's some bleeped up bleep, man!)

(How about you, Heavy weapons? I'm guessing you're a vodka guy?) "Peach Bellini. But bubbles can give me headache."

(Mr. Weapons, how do you like your line of work?) "It is good. There are many benefits." (Oh! Like a free pass to snuff out bad guys or a waffle bar?) "Both. And full dental."

(I wonder if this dump is haunted.) (I hope so! Roughing up who can't die is fun!) "...I do not like ghosts..." (It's okay, Mr. Weapons. I have [extensive experience]. I can handle a few ghosts.) "...You will take care of ghosts for me?" (You bet cha!) Heavy nods at him. "I like you, tiny rabbit."

[Story including a union] "I am union. RED local six fifteen." (You guys unionized?) "Eh. It was necessity for group medical."

"Tycho. This sweater, is special equipment?" (No, standard issue.) "You have no class specific head gear?" (Got a motorcycle helmet that protects from 100% of UV rays.) "This sounds beneficial."

(Why do you keep calling me 'Tiny Heavy'?) "You are Heavy. Tiny. No? You are RED team. You have killing gloves of boxing. You earn these for being great killer! You should try out for RED team." (Hmm. Guess I could join your team of ruthless killers and lame hat wearers and watch you get grenaded by 8 year olds.) "You will take many bullets before dying I think."

(Hey, Heavy. I just finished [Russian fantasy book]. Ever read it?) "No." (Oh. What's your favorite book?) "I prefer war." (Ah, War and Peace. Tasteful.) "No. Just war." (Art of War?) "Nyet." Silence. "I like 'Tsar Hunger' by Leonid Andreyev. You know this?" (...No.) "Is classic."

"You have hands like young girl." (I keep them shits moist.) "...So you are more of sneaky, stabbing type?" (In an extreme circumstance, I guess.) Heavy looks at him suspiciously. "I keep my eyes on you." (No, no no- I wasn't implying that-) Heavy looking at him angierly. (Shit.)

(Ever listen to music while you work?) "Yes! I just buy new walkman." (What gets you in the killing mood? Icelandic death metal?) "I just get Huey Lewis tape. Keeps spirits up on battle field."

"[To Tycho] You have woman?" (Not with me) "She is pretty?" (Yeah, cute, glasses, red hair.) "She has the red hair??" (No, Heavy! She is not on the other team! Don't have to kill her!) "No. But I love the red hair!" (Well, you can't have her, either.) Re-used image of Heavy looking at him angrily. (Well, maybe we can work something out.)

(Hey, Heavyman. You think you can 'take care' of the King of Town for me?) "I can assassinate king, yes. It is expensive, though." (By take care of I meant sneak in and shave off half his mustache.) "I am not best at sneaking." (Confront him in a dark alley then?) "This is better. That way blood wash away in rain."

(You have any interest in moonlighting?) "WHAT? I am not moonlighter!" (Just a little work on the side with Sam and me beating up goons!) "Oh. I can not do this." (C'mon it's fun and free!) "No, I am sure it is." (Then what's the problem?) "I have non compete." (Ah, yeah. Lawyers.)

(All these aces reminds me of [weird dream]. You have any weird dreams, Mr. Weapons?) "I sometimes dream that I am killed. There is blood everywhere. (Tycho gives him a weird look) But then I wake up and I realize this is ridiculous! Nobody can kill Heavy weapons guy! (Riiiight...)

"[To his chips] This is good Solider. This one is good Doktor. You are demolition man."

"Saaaandvich, sandvich, I love you sandvich!" (Would you like someone to order you some food?)

"Blue man." (Tycho.) "Tycho. What college do you go to? You are educated, no?" (Actually, no.) "No?" (I studied at Gygax Polyhedral if you catch my drift.) "I do not. This is good school?" (Uh. The best.) "I went to Soviet College of Mines, Farms, and Science. I have PhD in Russian literature." (Do you.. use that in your work?) "More than you think."

"Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war?" (Those discount three-pack green helmets.) "To kill spy is glorious thing! How about you, Max? You are killing type." (My favorite enemy? Like asking me to choose between my children!) Heavy laughs. "You crack me up, little bunny!"

(Hey, Hefty Bag, you ever play video games?) "Just one." (Oh yeah?) "It is called-" (Tycho: WoW?) "Nyet. That is not popular. It is called 'Where's an Egg'." (Strongbad: I love Where's an Egg!) "Where's an Egg is as big as Tetris in homeland."

(Concerning your firearm, whay caliber we talking?) "Big." (What, we talking 300 Weatherby Mag here?) "Bigger." (50 cal, whereabouts?) "Bigger than 50 caliber. They are hand made custom tool cartridges with classified diameter." (Why's that?) "So enemy canmot use ammunition. But Sasha can chew through theirs." (Diabolical!) "I think so." Nods.

(Alright, big pretend killer man. Tell me the most awesome story you have with plenty of senseless violence!) Heavy thinks. "When I was boy, I was at camp, being trained in many ways of combat." (Assassination camp for kids! This is gonna be good!) "There was sparrow sitting on fence. Snow falls quietly around me. Without notice, another boy jumps from behind tree and kills sparrow with throwing knife. The boy runs away." (And then??) "I pick up sparrow, and hear his last breath before digging him tiny grave..." (Tycho crying) (Max silent) (That's not even a little bit funny, man.) Heavy shakes his head solemnly. "No..." Sits back. "It's not."

(So, what do you do for fun?) "Clean Sasha. Use Sasha... Clean Sasha again." (Proper maintience is crucial.) "I also collect old coins." (A fellow numismatist!) "Which I melt down to make custom bullets." (Of course.)

"I am hungry for sandvich." (Then order a sandvich, man.) "Oh, I can not have sandvich! I become unstoppable killing machine!" (Yeah, maybe order a water.) "Is best."

"You wear blue sweater." (All the time.) "What are you?" (Haven't we went over this?) "You are not Scout. Maybe very tricky blue Spy? Maybe... new class?" (I can use a keyboard to sabotage your entire team, steal your intelligence, and have your sister delivered to my doorstep in one afternoon. Yes, I'm a new class.) Heavy, shocked, "This is true??"

(Hey, Heavyman, what's your living situ-aysh?) "I live in RED barraks. Is nice. There is foos table." (How about taking a room in the house of Strong?) "There is vacancy?" (First you'll have to dump the current person in your room.) "This is enemy?" (He won't put up much of a fight.)

Hope you enjoyed, spent most of the day copying all these down. The non-Heavy lines are paraphrased for shortness. Heavy's are full, how they are in game.

#long post #tf2 #team fortress 2 #heavy #tf2 heavy #heavy weapons guy #poker night #poker night at the inventory #neat

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 22

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 3229

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘Impala sex’ square for @spnkinkbingo

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s unfamiliar to drive with a bandage around his hand and it would be in the way for what he’s planning to do, so Dean takes it off mid-drive. He’ll tell her that he had to do some things at the club that involved him having to take it off. He doesn’t mind holding still for her to put another one on him. Preferably with her in his lap, because that shit’s really good, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head when he thinks back to her asking him if she’s a good fuck.

Jesus, how could she even think that she’s not? She’s all he thinks about since he sank his cock into her pussy. She’s the one he sees when he closes his eyes to rest. Dean could fucking live in her and if he’d go out that way, he wouldn’t even fucking mind! He’s sure that going out while being inside of her might be on the cards for him, because his heart beats so fast every time, it makes his fucking head spin.

It’s true, he fucking loves fucking. He probably would not own a sex club if he doesn’t like it, but fucking with her is something else. Sure, she’s not that experienced, but maybe that’s just the thing that triggers his fancy. And maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s her.

Dean knows why she might think that, and knowing it, makes him even angrier. It gets his blood boiling and fucking Cole can die in a fucking ditch.

The Impala rumbles to a halt in front of a little one story house. The lights inside are on.

As soon as Dean gets out, Balthazar hurries out of his own car to come greet him.

“You gave him the nosebleed, boss?” Balth grins and Dean sends him a glare, to which the other man quickly shuts his fucking mouth.

“He harassed her, Balth, that’s what fucking happened!” Dean growls low and the other man looks down to his toes, unable to look Dean in the eyes.

“You called the cops on him?”

Dean snorts out a laugh, “Nah, I’ll do it my way,”

“Dean, no,” Balthazar breathes out.

“Dean, yes,” Dean’s grin grows wider.

Well, yeah, Balthazar’s not wrong. Maybe he should have called the cops, but again, they don’t really have any proof and Dean thinks that he has the upper hand.

He looks to the house and asks, “Is he alone?”

Balth nods, “Yeah, his girlfriend left for work two hours ago. She won’t be back til dawn.”

Dean shakes his head. Cole’s a fucking leech. He gets angrier when he thinks that maybe Y/N had to work for the both of them too? Jesus, he gets nauseous just thinking about it. She definitely did not deserve that. Not that anyone does, but she especially doesn’t.

He nods at the man before making his way to the door. Dean rings the bell and raps loudly against the wood.

Strangely enough, Cole opens with not a care in the world, widening his eyes when he sees that it’s Dean. Just who did he think would come knocking at this time of the night? Some fucking dealer? Yeah, maybe some dealer. It wouldn’t surprise Dean.

Cole’s quick to slam the door shut, but Dean’s hand is already pushing against the door and his foot is blocking it from closing, “I just want to talk, look, I’m sorry man,”

“Yeah, right,” Cole snorts, “Talk. Like that’s a thing you do.”

Cole’s not as dim as Dean thought, he has to give him that. Nonetheless, Dean pushes his way in. That fucking loser doesn’t stand a chance it’s almost too easy, he thinks, and he grins that cocky grin of his, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his hand goes around the other man’s throat, pushing him further into the house, and pins him to the wall.

From up close, Dean can see Cole’s swollen nose, the area around it has started to bruise. Dean can’t help but admire his work a little. Maybe he’ll break Cole’s jaw next, depending on how he feels.

He switches his hand with his elbow and is applying more pressure. The other man claws at his clothed arms while sputtering something incoherently.

“You listen to me, Cole,” Dean whispers low, “You go near her again, you’ll be dead before the cops can fucking help you.”

“T— the fuck!” Cole spits out, and pushes Dean away with all his might, making Dean stagger back a couple of feet and he feels the other man’s fist connect with his shoulder, missing his face by seconds of good thinking on Dean’s part.

Dean manages to get the upper hand. It’s not that hard. Cole’s shorter than him, shorter than Sam and Dean normally always win against Sam. Cole also has less strengths. He throws punches like a fucking kid and it’s really pathetic of him to think that he could overpower Dean.

With a blink of an eye, Dean sits on Cole’s back and pins one of his hands behind it. The other man winces in pain. He’s wriggling and squirming beneath Dean. It’s almost sad that he doesn’t put up more of a fight.

“Get the fuck off me!” Cole calls out, “I’m calling the cops!”

“Yeah, you do that. Tell them that you fucking broke your restraining order while you’re at it, will ya?” Dean snarls and applies more pressure, pulling at Cole’s hand. Maybe he’ll break it? He hasn’t decided yet.

“What do you fucking want?” Cole mutters, his breathing ragged.

“I want you to fucking leave my girl alone!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Cole snorts and Dean clubs him over the head. That fucker just really doesn’t know when to shut up.

“You know what?” Dean smirks darkly, “I might do just that, yeah.”

“And you think you can get away with it?”

Seriously, that dude just doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Probably was never the brightest star on the horizon. Which makes Dean really wonder how the fuck someone like Y/N ended up with someone like Cole.

“I don’t think that,” Dean says calmly, “I know that. I have friends in high places, Cole. You do as I say or you’ll see what happens. It’s your choice.”

Dean gets off him and helps the man up before he pats Cole’s shoulder, “I have people watching you. You get too close to my girl one more time, I’ll hunt you the fuck down.”

Turning, Dean walks to the door but he’s aware of Cole. Would feel if the man lashed out at him. His senses are sharp.

But instead of lashing out, Cole starts to laugh, “Your girl? Man, she’s not even fucking worth i—”

Dean’s fist connects with Cole’s jaw and it breaks with a loud crunching sound.

He looms over Cole, who’s holding his jaw and Dean crouches down, lowering himself to whisper into Cole’s ear, “Nobody touches what’s fucking mine, understand?”

As Y/N is finishing up the page and sends it out for print, her phone lights up.

D: I’m sorry, there’s a hold up at the club. I’ll be there in 10.

She smiles a little at the message as she sees that it’s exactly two hours to the dot since he left. Thinks it’s absolutely cute how he doesn’t want her to think that he forgot about picking her up.

Y/N: No worries, take your time. I’ll probably even need another 20 to clean up everything here as I will be out for the next few days.

That’s not even a lie.

Ugh. She has to go to Washington. And she’ll be there for two nights. Two fucking nights without Dean. She honestly doesn’t know if she will survive. He’s quite addictive if she can say so.

When she shut down her computer and packed away her laptop her phone lights up.

D: I’m waiting down in the foyer.

Y/N smiles to herself and says goodbye to the last remaining colleague before she takes the elevator down.

When the elevator opens up, Dean’s talking to the security guy. They seem to be in deep conversation but when Dean notices her, he turns his head and greets her with a bright smile.

His hair is a little messy, and he’s dressed in casual jeans and a simple black shirt, a plaid shirt thrown over it. It’s still a look she has to get used to. She wonders, though, why he changed? It also seems like he showered and the bandage is off.

“Hey,” Dean greets her, bending down a little to kiss her, “Sorry, it got a little messy and I had to take another shower.”

“Did it?” She asks, and it might have come out more accusatory than she intended.

He frowns at her, knowing exactly what she thinks, “Jesus, baby, are we still discussing this?” Cupping her chin between his fingers, he points it up to look at him, “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not fucking anyone else, alright? Not when you fuck me so good already anyway,”

He grins down at her and god, how could she think things like that when he’s been so helpful and she can really see that he cares for her? She feels dumb.

“There was an accident with the champagne fountain, you can ask Cas.” He whispers, before he molds his lips to hers and how can she not believe him now. It’s not really fair that he uses his charming techniques to get her to calm down. It’s not fucking fair that it actually works either.

Dean breaks the kiss to take her bag from her hand and walks her out of the building, his other hand firm around her waist.

“When do you have to leave tomorrow?”

“My train’s going at 9am.”

“Good,” Dean grins as he opens the trunk and drops in her belongings, “Get in, I wanna take you somewhere.”

After about another thirty minutes, and a drive through their old neighborhood, Dean stops at a place she only knew from hearsay.

It’s by the back entrance of the big park. The car park is surrounded by big old trees, making it a perfect place for teens to meet and do all kinds of naughty things. She never knew because nobody ever brought her here. Y/N heard that they were illegally drinking and smoking here, heard that some had sex in their cars as well.

Dean kills the engine and looks at her, one eyebrow raised, “You know where we are?”

She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, why are we here?”

“Because,” Dean says and reaches under his seat to roll the bench seat back to the max, “It was always my fantasy to bring you out here.”

He tugs at her arm, flinches a little because his hand is still hurt, but he wouldn’t let it slow him down and she finds herself straddling him, his arms are around her waist, holding her tight while he cranes his neck. Their noses touch.

“You wanted to bring me out here?” Y/N whispers, rubbing their noses together.

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah?”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah.”

“What did you want to do? Get me drunk? Get me high?”

“Nuh-huh,” He mumbles and tries to kiss her but she pulls her face away with a grin.

“Nuh-uh?”

“No,” Dean breathes out, “Wanted to do just this,” He kisses her and she lets him, lets him tease along her lip with his tongue, “Kiss myself stupid on your soft lips, wanted to feel you wriggling in my lap,”

“Ah,” She giggles and it’s her who kisses him now and Dean leans his head back, letting her rain kisses all over his face, his jaw, his neck. She licks a stripe up his throat to his ear, sucks in the lobe and he groans out low. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating as fast as hers.

Y/N grinds in his lap, feels him hardening in his pants, thinks that she’ll ruin it if she doesn't stop because she’s getting wetter by the second. She breaks the kiss and Dean’s mouth chases after her.

She chuckles out in a whisper, “Dean, your pants,”

“What’s with my pants?” He’s frowning a little.

“I’ll soil them.”

Dean grins, it’s all cocky and wide, “Take it off,”

“Here?” Her eyes widen.

“Yeah, come on, there’s nobody around,”

Well, he’s not wrong about that. But still. Sex in a public place? She definitely has never done that. Which is the reason why it’s probably so fucking appealing. She can’t lie that it doesn’t turn her on.

“‘K,” She smiles at him and her hands work on his belt buckle before they pull at his zipper.

“Good girl,” He lets out a groan, kisses her cheek and jaw and licks at her earlobe while she’s concentrating on getting the zipper down. His one hand goes below her shirt, fingers tweaking at one of her nipples. Distracting is what it is.

She opens his jeans wide enough to take his cock out of it’s confines, leaves the elastic of his underwear just below his balls and she actually bursts out laughing when she sees his cock.

Dean gasps, “That was not the reaction I was expecting, but okay,”

Y/N’s still laughing when she kisses him, “You did that for me?”

“Only for you,” Dean grins and sinks his teeth into her bottom lip, “I was hoping you’d be delighted. Did not expect to get laughed at my dick, though.”

“‘M sorry,”

“That’s okay but never laugh at my cock again, okay?”

“Promise,” She giggles as she wraps her hand around it, it’s hot and heavy in her hand.

Dean wears a cock ring. The same one she held up for him last time. The one that has a little vibration thingy attached.

“Come on, turn it on and ride me,”

There’s a wide grin on her face and she does what she’s told, pushes at the little power button on the side and Dean groans when it jumps to life.

“Fuck,” He chuckles, “Don’t know how long I can hold off, though.”

Y/N smacks her hand against Dean’s chest, “I swear if you come now, I won’t talk to you again!”

“I would never do that,” Dean lets out a whine as he bucks his hips and she knows that she needs to hurry to get on that before it’s over.

Lifting herself on her knees, her hand goes beneath her skirt and she hooks her finger into the crotch of her underwear, pulls it to the side while holding her skirt up with her other hand. Dean already has his vibrating dick in his hand and threads the head through her slick as she lowers herself some more.

“Jesus, you’re so wet baby,” The slicking sound of wet skin rubbing together can be heard in the car, even above the vibrating sound.

She throws her head back a little, closes her eyes when she sits down further, impaling herself on Dean’s cockhead. The vibrations from his cock travels to her cunt and already it clenches, making him curse and grunt.

Taking him further, she slowly sits down, moaning out when she’s fully seated, the vibration is right at her clit.

“Oh my god, fuck—,” She grits her teeth before taking her bottom lip between them, biting down on it because she knows that she can’t make too loud a sound.

Dean notices her grimacing, knows that she wants to moan and he quickly places his hand on the back of her neck, draws her down and kisses her. He drinks up her moans, sucks in her tongue and she’s doesn’t think she can even breath because it feels so fucking great.

He parts with a peck on her lips, leaves his hand on the back of her neck and holds her there, “Grind on it, baby, make yourself come,”

She nods her head at him and starts to move her hips, slow at first. God, it feels really great, the vibration hits her right and Dean lets himself sink lower, lays the back of his head on the seat and she braces both her hands on either side of his head on the seat, fingernails digging into the leather.

“You look so beautiful,” Dean says and he looks at her like he’s really in awe. She thinks that he’s lying because nobody can look good from that angle. But she can’t dwell on it, she’s so close to coming.

Dean’s big hand grabs at her ass cheeks, kneading and spanking down on them, making her yelp and giggle. She can feel that one of his hands has less strength and she makes a mental note to fix it up once they get home.

The windows of the car start to fog up, and she’s sure that their movement can be seen on the outside, the car must be rocking. It’s just... since she’s with Dean, she cares less about these things, she’s more daring because she trusts him. She absolutely can’t say that she doesn’t love the new person she has become.

“Does this come close to your fantasy?” She’s breathing heavily as she looks down to him, sees him looking back at her with a bright smile on his face.

“Better,” He whispers, “God, you have no idea how many nights I stayed awake thinking about you.”

He thought about her? A lot? If her face wouldn’t have been flush from the fucking, she thinks it’s would be even more now.

“Can you come for me baby?” Dean swallows hard, “I can’t fucking hold out any longer.”

Y/N thinks it’s weird. She thought that cock rings should make the guy go on for longer, but apparently, Dean’s dick doesn’t work like that.

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles, starts to grind on him faster and Dean’s hand are on her hips, helping her move as good as he can, “God, you’re so deep and the vibrations, fuck— I’m coming, Dean, I’m—”

“I got you,” He whispers, and he lets her bury her face next to his, as he bucks his hips, driving his dick deeper in.

Her legs start to tremble, her cunt clenches as she gushes around him. He comes too, grunts out some curses that she can not understand, while his fingertips dig into the flesh around her waist, holding her tight as he bucks his hips a couple more times.

“Fuck,” Dean chuckles, tilts his head to kiss her forehead. He moves his hand in between them and down to the ring, switching off the vibrations. Dean kisses at the place where her neck meets her shoulder, licks at her flesh, “Better than I could have ever imagined.”

She chuckles into his skin, and they stay like that for a while longer. Y/N already dreads him slipping out of her. She hates the feeling of the emptiness she feels after sex. Especially with him. Dean knows that too, because she can feel that he wants to hold out for as long as possible too.

There’s a sharp knock at their window that makes her hold her breath and sends her heart racing.

Chapter 23

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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wishonastar7 · 3 years

Text

Timely Fate5

Starting the Paid Service(4)

I could hear laughter escape Dokja's lips but I ignored him in favor of opening the pdf that had been sent to me by the author. The file extension was txt.

[You have obtained an exclusive attribute]

[The exclusive skill slot has been activated]

[You have obtained an exclusive attribute]

[The exclusive skill slot has been activated]

My eyes widened in surprise. I knew that Dokja had gained an exclusive attribute while checking out the novel but I didn't think I would as well, and to think that I would gain two.

'Attribute Window.' I silently thought, a bit surprised when a screen that read [You cannot activate the Attribute Window] appeared. Thinking 'Attribute Weapon' once more, I was disappointed to be met with the same screen.

How the hell am I supposed to know my skills and attributes now? I closed my eyes, rubbing my forehead before hearing a small ding in my mind. I looked up and saw a small blue screen at the corner of my right side.

Curiously, I pressed on it. Immediately it opened up to show a screen that said [Companions].

The first one on the list was Dokja, then Yoo Sangah, Lee Gilyoung, Lee Hyunsung, and lastly Yoo Jonghyuk. Their names were gray though and besides their names were two boxes. The bigger one said [Info/Status] while the smaller one said [Request],

I quickly set Gilyoung down only to have him latch onto my fingers.

'Curious.' I clicked on the [Request] besides Dokja's name and saw Dokja's eyebrows raise. He gave me a quick look before the grey box on his name turned a bright blue with the words [Request] being replaced with [Accepted]. The [Info/Status] was 'on' now too and there were also three new circles stacked on top of each other on the far end of the box. One was a picture of a mic, the middle one a messaging symbol, and the last two hands stretched towards each other.

My eyebrows raised. A trading option. Oh, I could get lucky with this.

I tapped the messaging icon, only to find no keyboard. 'Hey Dokja' I thought, not surprised to see the words appear on the 'text' box. An arrow showing [Send] appeared beside it and I pressed on it.

It took a while before he responded. {Ha-Neul, is this one of your attributes?}

{Yeah} I responded. {I got two but I can't open my attribute window so I can't see what the other one is called.}

{I see. You shouldn't go around telling people about your attributes though.}

{I know. But I trust you and I was wondering if you may have had the same problem as I did.}

{..I did.} He sent a frowny face. I looked over to see him frowning, {This attribute is pretty cool. Look's like it'll be useful.}

Almost simultaneously we went 'offline' and looked down at our phones, I started looking through the novel. Wondering how we would get through this. Even though I knew how it would end, I'm here to fuck things up and not have Dokja die so many times.

[Your reading skill has increased due to the effect of the exclusive attribute] I was surprised for a second, but suddenly I had finished reading ten chapters in less than thirty seconds.

Suddenly, I caught a line.

[He saw people gathered at the back door of the 3707 compartment. The wheel of the tightly held lighter was cold. In this life, he absolutely couldn't make any mistakes. He would use any means possible. He took in the expression of fear in everyone's faces. He felt no guilt. Everything was fleeting. He looked down at the people with merciless eyes. After a while, his fingertips moved and fire rose. Then it all started.}

Fuck.

Without checking, I already knew what carriage we were on. [3807]. No matter how friendly Yoo Jonghyuk and I had been before his current regression, I wasn't in any others. He would suspect both me and Dokja. This carriage was doomed for death.

[He looked through the blurred window at the 3807 compartment. It was already too late. It was inevitable. Anyway, only two people survived in that compartment.]

Double fuck.

Quickly, I pulled up the [Companions] window and sent a request to everyone on the list. Unsurprisingly, Gilyoung accepted first. He looked up at me and I ruffled his hair.

Yoo Sangah accepted a few seconds later, followed by Lee Hyunsung but Yoo Jonghyuk's stayed on a purple [Request Sent].

Not that I expected anything. I could teach the others how to use it later, what was more important right now, though, was getting the first kill.

"Dokja-ssi, Ha-Neul-ssi, shouldn't we stop this?" Yoo Sangah suddenly said, looking towards a young man crouching down in front of the elderly woman.

I narrowed my eyes. That motherfucker.

"Shit!" He said, pulling at his collar. "I'm in a bad mood and this old lady keeps whining and groaning! Can't you shut up?" The young man was a high school student who had previously been leaning up against the entrance. I had seen his eyes flicker towards me a couple of times while the Dokkaebi had been speaking but I had chosen to ignore him.

With his thin figure and dyed-white hair, it was obvious who he was before I even had to read the name tag on his uniform. Kim Namwoon.

[Only lee Hyunsung and Kim Namwoon survived in that compartment. It doesn't matter, those are the only ones that I need anyway.] That was what Yoo Jonghyuk had thought in the original novel.

I wonder if he thought the same thing now, perhaps he did.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" The agitated teen grabbed the elderly women's collar, her powerless legs staggering. Kim Namwoon's palm moved through the air.

Slap! Slap!

I couldn't help but feel disappointed even though it was expected that no one would do anything. In normal times, multiple people would have come up to stop him and protect the grandma. Now, no one did a thing.

It didn't take long for the slaps to change into punches.

The old woman begged for help.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, it was Han Myungoh (the department head), that spoke up first.

"Y-young man! Treating an elder like this-"

"Hey old man, do you have a death wish?"

"What?"

"You heard me, do you have a death wish? You still don't understand the situation?"

"What bullshit is the brat saying?"

Kim Namwoon pointed toward the ceiling of the subway train. There, a screen showed not just the deaths on the trains and High Schools but also people dying all over the country.

People cried and begged.

Others laughed sadistically or moaned in pain.

"Don't you understand? There's no way the army is coming to rescue us. Someone has to die."

"W-what are you saying...?"

"We have to choose who has to die."

Han Myungho didn't answer. The entire compartment was completely silent. Not a single breath.

I directed my burning gaze from the white-haired teen to the older woman.

Kim Namwoon had been the fastest way to survive in the new world of 'Ways of Survival.'

"A new world requires new laws old man, you heard what it said. Kill someone."

It wasn't because he was especially smart or anything. No. Kim Namwoon was a psychopath who found joy in others' misery.

He turned back to the older woman and started kicking her. "Hahh... It's really hard to kill." He looked back up to the others who had been standing motionlessly. "What, are you gonna just stand there, watching? Do you want to fall behind?"

He also had a way with words.

The others started trembling at his words, looking from one another.

"This-this bastard is right."

"Someone needs to die s-so that the o-others can live!"

A few people inched towards him and joined him in hesitantly kicking the older woman. Slowly their kicks became stronger and stronger and they even started hurling insults towards her.

"Die! Die quickly!"

I looked at the old woman then down to Lee Gilyoung who had been looking up at me for some time now. I pushed down my mask, brushed the hair off of his forehead, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

"I'll be right back little darling."

I placed my bookbag down and took out a sleek black rectangular prism that was five inches tall and two inches in both width and length. It was cool to the touch but more dangerous than the seemingly 'innocent' look it had.

"Take care of this for me, all right?" Gilyoung nodded. With the fanny pack across his chest, the small blue taser in his right hand, and my bag in his left, he watched me walk away and towards the others.

I twirled the rectangular prism around in my right hand. When I was less than five feet away from the group, Kim Namwoon turned around and looked at me with a cocky smirk. My face remained neutral as I pressed a small button at the end of the prism.

In less than five seconds, the rectangular prism contorted into a needle-like shape that was well over three feet long. Its tip was dangerously sharp and its base was just thick enough to wrap my hand around. The sleek black needle wasn't heavy nor light but I felt no strain as I pointed its tip to Kim Namwoon's face.

"Everybody stop. You can't live if you kill the grandma." Kim Namwoon's face froze as he went cross-eyed looking at the tip. The others slowly looked up at me, faces paling as they saw the thorn-like weapon in my hands.

"Ok, say you kill the grandma. Then what next? Sure the grandma's death will buy some time as long as you kill her within the five-minute limit. But then what?"

"Ah..."

"If the dokkaebi told the truth, then you'll each have to kill someone. So, who will you kill after the grandmother? Who's going to be next?"

Horror slowly filled their eyes, as they listened to my word. In fact, they knew it was the truth. They knew my words were right.

Kim Namwoon saw the shaky figures of the others. He slowly backed away from me. Grinning.

"Haha! What are you saying? All we have to do is kill you next! Cowards, don't worry about your turn in advance. The odds are equal."

I let out a chuckle. He would be more believable if he wasn't backing away from me. I waved my free hand, "There's no need to kill anyone."

Immediately everyone looked up at me. "In fact, there's a way to pass this first mission without becoming a murderer."

"What?"

"Then what is it?"

Kim Namwoon scowled as the people slowly became agitated.

"Have you all forgotten?" I walked closer to the grandma and motioned for the others to come towards me. Once all three of them had arrived, I took the bag from Gilyoung and took out the box of crickets. I grabbed one and held it out for the others to see.

"The condition for the scenario isn't 'Kill A Person.'" That was when people noticed the condition properly.

[Kill one or more living things]

Kill one or more living things. Even if I had never read the novels, I thought that at least I would've been able to read the clear condition properly. Killing a 'person' had never been specified.

"I-I-insect!"

"G-give me an insect!"

I slowly applied pressure on the cricket.

"That's right, the insects." I slowly stepped back as the shining eyes of the others became closer and closer with every step they took towards me. The only ones who stayed in their places were Kim Dokja, Yoo Sangah, Lee Gilyoung (who Yoo Sangah had dragged to stand beside her, I was thankful), and Kim Namwoon who was silently fuming.

"Do you want them?" I waved the clear box of crickets in the air, my heart beating heavily and a smile threatening to break out. I was excited.

"P-please give me one!"

"Only one! I only need one!"

I crushed the cricket in my hand.

[You have achieved the 'First Kill' achievement]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation]

I threw the box in my hand as far away as I could. It landed on the other side of the compartment, as far away from the grandma and my little group as possible.

"Then go get them."

The crickets jumped out immediately as soon as they were given their freedom. A few even jumped towards us and both Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah were given a chance to grab a cricket and crush it.

I looked down at Gilyoung. Who had already moved to my side, and noticed him looking at the hand full of insect guts in mild disgust. I chuckled before handing a baby wipe, from my bag to him and the others. I looked up at the mess I had created.

I felt an almost sadistic-like thrill crawl up my spine as I let out an unrestrained grin.

How amusing.

(2199)

#ORV #OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT #FANFICTION #OC #ORVSPOILERS #YOO JONGHYUK #KIM DOKJA #YOO JONGHYUK X OC #KIM DOKJA X OC #SLOWBURN-ISH #MUTUAL PINING #FRIENDS TO LOVERS #KOREAN WAS GOOGLE TRANSLATED #KOREANWEBTOONBASED #KOREANLIGHTNOVELBASED

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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

Text

The Recruit (4/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings: Steve might be learning a lesson...

Notes: Woohoo another chapter. Thank you all so much for the feedback on this series. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it! Enjoy this next part and let me know what you think! x

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Tony’s going to have his head once he figures out Steve’s busted another punching bag wide open. He’ll have to make a mental note to buy him some of that really expensive civet coffee he loves to chug so much. For now, he puts another bag on the hook and proceeds to wail on it. He grits his teeth painfully, tries to shove the scene going on behind him out of his head.

You’ve been sidelined, arm bound up in a cast and sling with orders to not push yourself. Shattered wrist, bruised neck, a deep purple necklace around your throat. Spirits high despite your ordeal, your injuries. You’re spotting Bucky, standing over him as he benches an impressive three hundred pounds. Your laughter carrying across the gym to ring inside his head, rattles his insides not unlike an earthquake.

When he’d entered, you hadn’t even spared him a glance, though Bucky gave a small nod of acknowledgement. He couldn’t blame you. Since the mission a week ago, he’d been turning over and over the entire thing, hating himself more and more every time for the way he’d spoken to you. The look in your eyes, offset by the determined set of your chin to not rise to his bait. But he saw the tears, the shininess of your eyes when you couldn’t look at him anymore.

It hurt, but he deserved it.

Your giggle carries over and he freezes mid-jab, muscles taut and he nearly feels his teeth crack. He can’t do this. He gives the bag one last pound that nearly splits the seam again, stoops for his water bottle, and storms out of the gym with a slam of the door. He curls his fist against throwing at the wall - feeling the destruction might soothe his anger, but only temporarily. And Tony would have a conniption.

The one person he could talk to - wants to talk to - is down in the gym with you. He’s ready to explain to Bucky, expects to after that little display and all of his behavior thus far towards you. But he can’t, not until Bucky comes to check on him, and if he knows his best friend, he will, and soon.

For now, Steve tries to find peace in his mind by sketching. First a hawk that circles the compound, then the lake, barely disturbed by a light breeze, and then, somehow and to his utter surprise - you. He doesn’t realize it at first, finds a numbing tranquility in his sketching that your visage is half-formed by the time it registers.

It’s you from the jet a week ago - after he’d cut you with harsh words. Your face had been so open, so raw, every expression discernible as it flashed through your eyes. It’s easy for him to replicate it, almost effortless because he has it memorized in his head. It doesn’t let him rest. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the hurt his comments have caused, his criticisms - when really, all you’ve done is try to prove yourself.

He hasn’t been fair, projecting his anger, resentment - his hurt - onto you. But he hasn’t known how to stop, until now. He knows if he keeps it up he’ll either get you killed, a thought that makes him sick, or you’ll quit, and he can tell you aren’t a quitter. Since your interview you’ve met him toe to toe, refused to let him walk all over you until last week. It reminds him almost too much…

He shakes his head, snaps his sketchbook shut and digs his fingers into his eyes. He’s exhausted, a rare occurrence in his life despite the rigorous missions and the sheer mental strain his job entails. Usually, he can handle it. But his stupid behavior has been exhausting to keep up with - so he’s done.

In the gym, you spot Bucky as he lifts. He doesn’t need it, not really, but it keeps his mind fresh and his body in shape. Plus, he doesn’t mind your company.

You’re still a little banged up from your mission, wrist bound and a fading ring of purple around your neck. But yet you’re still smiling, laughing at his teasing like you didn’t almost die the week before. It should worry him, but it doesn’t - not when your eyes light up the way that they do when you laugh.

He knows it bothers Steve. Even across the gym he can see how tight his shoulders hard, can practically hear his teeth cracking as he grinds his jaw. Steve isn’t subtle about anything, least of all when Bucky’s around, and Bucky can tell he isn’t pulling his punches as he splits another bag with a grunt.

To your credit, you don’t look, don’t even appear to be even annoyed by Steve’s obnoxious workout. Then Steve leaves the gym in a grey blur, and Bucky feels a frown tug at his mouth at how you seem to relax only once he’s gone. He hates that his best friend has put you so on edge, so uncomfortable with just his presence.

He wanted to deck Steve after you’d told him, teary-eyed but enraged, what transpired on the mission. While he himself was a little miffed you’d both disobeyed an order and jumped headlong into danger on your first mission, concern for you quickly overrode it when you told him, word for scathing word, Steve had said.

And then you’d slapped a hand over your mouth in humiliated shame. For having called his best friend, in no uncertain terms, an asshole, for bad-mouthing your CO, the leader of the Avengers to another Avenger.

It took him ten minutes to calm you down from your pain-medicated panic, assure you that whatever you told him wouldn’t leave the room. He was your friend, a confidante, and you could tell him anything.

Only then did you relax, face red and eyes welling again, and Bucky had never wanted so badly to pitch Steve out of a jet without a parachute.

And he can see that it still bothers you, Steve’s words. You seem to shrink when he’s around, which you make sure doesn’t happen too frequently - Bucky’s not a super spy for nothing. You avoid him where you can, but where you can’t, your body language speaks volumes of your discomfort, and he hates it.

“How’s the pain?” he asks, to distract you, bring you back out of your head.

You smile a bit. “Getting better. Cast should be good to come off in about a week or so Helen says.”

“Your voice sounds better, too,” he assures, sitting up on the weight bench. He accepts the water bottle you hand him, downs half of it. Your trachea had been mildly damaged, leaving your voice rough and hoarse and a little squeaky.

“Getting there. Hey, um, I was wondering...can I ask you a favor?”

He raises an eyebrow, silent request to continue. His curiosity grows when you hesitate, unsure almost in how close the two of you have grown. Is it too much?

“Can you… The man who attacked me, I don’t want, can’t, have that happen again. Could you help me? Perfect my training, I mean? There’s only so much I can learn from...Captain Rogers, and I can’t ask him for obvious reasons, and I don’t know any of the other Avengers except for Sam and it was really just that one mission so—”

Amusement dances in his eyes as his metal fingers touch your lips to silence them. They’re hot under his touch, and only when your voice trails off, a little breathily at the end, does he lower them.

“I’d be happy to help,” he answers, mouth tilted up on one side and he chuckles at your bashfulness.

“Really?” you ask, eyes brightening. He enjoys the way his belly flips in response.

“‘Course, doll. But,” he warns with a single finger pointed at you, though his eyes still glimmer, “I won’t go easy on you.”

Something sparks in your eyes, something that he likes, and you smirk. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Sarge.”

And oh, if something warm and wonderful doesn’t pool in his lower belly at that.

Chapter Five

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #steve x rogers #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x you x steve #steve x bucky x you #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: The Honey Trap (9/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: I'm giving you another chapter this weekend because I can. I've got a significant portion of the Epilogue written, and just a chapter or two to fill in the middle, so we're looking at about 12 in total. I'll post as they're written, but no promises on when.

I'm VERY curious to see what you all think about this chapter. We've just had angst, angst, angst up until now, and now? Well, it's a little bit of a departure, and I hope you like it.

Chapter 9: Infiltrating the Lap of Luxury

Three Days Later

Peggy was nauseous. The red and black. The banners. The eagles and swastikas. The double lightning bolts.

They were everywhere.

Just three days in Berlin had reminded her who, and what, they were fighting for. If the concerned well-to-do Nazis of London had confused her, this had shocked her right back to reality.

Wallace had given her practically no notice that they were leaving, to the point where she’d wondered if either or both of them had been found out and they needed to run. She’d had barely enough time to throw the essentials in a bag and finish the letter.

Since they’d started with the letters, she’d had one half written, waiting in the false bottom of one of the drawers in her apartment for her to fill in days, times, and places. She knew one day they’d have to make a hasty retreat, and that came far faster than she had been prepared for.

He’d been manic, not because they’d been found out, but because he’d been offered something he couldn’t pass up: face time with the men who were running everything. They’d been invited to the heart of Berlin for a party, and then to accompany a high-ranking scientist to the Alps.

None of that had made it into her letter.

She was sharing a hotel room with Wallace, and the Agent who had escorted them to Berlin was residing right next door. She wasn’t sure if he was there to keep them safe or to keep tabs on them, but she wasn’t going to press it either way. She played appropriately lovelorn on the plane over the channel, then slowly warmed back up to Wallace. By the time they’d made it to the hotel she was holding his hand and chatting about how excited she was to be invited to such a thing.

Peggy wasn’t sure what Wallace was anymore, where his allegiance fell, or what he expected her to behave as, but she was along for the ride, and that meant keeping him happy.

She still made him sleep on the couch.

In the morning, the symbols all around her were brighter and more apparent, and the charade was harder to keep up. Wallace paraded her around office buildings and at dinners with men whose names she’d only heard about in official communiques. It seemed the information he thought he was stealing from her had made him somewhat infamous, and they didn’t seem to understand, thankfully, that she’d led them into several ambushes at this point.

She found it baffling and sickening, but she let them believe they’d lured her over to their ideology, that she was no longer interested in serving the Allied Powers as they’d done nothing for her.

She had once chance to pass on all she knew. One communique. She hoped they were ready.

~*~

Dugan stood just outside the hotel, pulling down on his deerstalker cap to stay hidden in the twilight. He’d shaved his moustache, to which they’d all laughed, and dyed his hair a glaring blonde, even though he was keeping it hidden under his cap.

There were precious few they trusted for this, and even fewer who could walk into the heart of Germany and potentially not be recognized by either the SS or Wallace. Dugan somehow fit that bill. He worried that he was too early, but being too late might compromise the drop. He stopped and rubbed his knee, feigning pain to buy himself some time. Eyes were everywhere, and they didn’t hesitate to report suspicious people under such a regime.

Peggy was due any minute. Any second.

And there she was.

Laughing.

Dugan looked up, surprised, to see her laughing and smiling with Wallace, dressed to the nines complete with heels and a fur stole and the ever harder and harder to get silk stockings.

She was walking towards him on her way out of the hotel, and the only acknowledgement he got was the casual flicker of her eyes as she neared, the same she’d give any passing pedestrian.

Just a few steps away she stumbled and then stopped, Wallace concerned for her as they both looked down at the ground. “Are you all right, Maggie?”

Peggy stood and smiled, shrugging. “New shoes. I haven’t had a pair of proper dancing shoes in so long I think I must have forgotten how to wear them!” Her tone was light, and she kept Wallace’s eyes at hers with her smile, but Dugan was looking at her feet, where Peggy slipped her toes from her heel and dropped a small slip of paper on the ground before slipping her foot back in again. She kicked her foot up towards Wallace and wiggled her toes. “Should be good to go, dear. To dinner?”

He nodded and set them moving again. “Yes, quite right. Perhaps you should wear your new ones for the party tomorrow when we get back tonight, wouldn’t want you stumbling in that company.”

Dugan waited until they passed, playing up on the rubbing of his knee, and then started limping lightly forward, towards the scrap of paper on the ground. He stopped again, shoe stepping directly on it, and rubbed his knee, before walking away with only the tiniest glance back to tell him that the paper was stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

A block later, he stopped, picked it from his shoe, and continued on his way.

~*~

Stave, Bucky, and Dum Dum hovered over the paper, slowly decoding it by flashlight in their tiny tent in the middle of the German forest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dum Dum laughed. “How does she think we’re going to do that?”

“We clean up good!” Bucky retorted.

“Yeah,” Steve started, throwing the pencil down and slumping, “but I don’t blend in so well with a crowd here.”

“Well, I’m going. Where do I get my hands on a suit?” Dugan smiled. “You know what kinda women are at these parties?”

“Yeah, Nazis.” Barnes retorted, shaking his head.

“Ok, well, you’re not wrong there.” He shrugged. “I just miss going to parties, and beautiful women all dressedto the nines there.”

Dugan and Barnes shared a moment of agreement before Bucky focused them back on the mission. “And how do you plan on getting in?” Barnes asked cheekily. “We just going to walk in the front door?”

Steve rubbed his face. “It’s going to be guarded, there will be invitations… no. There’s no way we get in the front door play acting like we’re guests without being made.”

“So what?” Dugan asked, reading over the note again. He pointed at the most important detail: “Must get Zola at Black Tie tomorrow night. Last Chance before Alps.” He shrugged. “Maybe it would be easier to try to get him while he’s going over the Alps to the Hydra base.”

Bucky shook his head. “I mean, potentially less guards on one of those trains, but some of those tracks are treacherous. They’re lucky the trains make it through. One wrong move there, we’re not just captured, we’re dead.”

“So what? We go in as the caterers?” Dugan laughed. “I already shaved my moustache for this, I’m up for a good disguise.”

“It’s a mansion, right?” Steve asked, trying to be positive. “Maybe we just need to…” He took a moment, his head twisting and turning as he thought of and discarded ideas. He stopped, throwing his hands out to the side. “I got nothing.”

Barnes just punched him on the shoulder good naturedly. “You know, you’re lucky you’ve got Peggy to do all the heavy lifting in this relationship.”

Steve hung his head, smiling. “Don’t I know it.”

~*~

Peggy did her best to smile, but was still sickened by the excess. She’d seen the state of the German forces, of the men in the field and the men they captured.

It was always revolting to see how the men who ran the wars, but never experienced them, lived.

Champaign. Caviar. Grand dinners and ballrooms full of music and dancing. The war hadn’t touched these people. They hadn’t watched friends and family die. After listening to them, she guessed most of them had probably profited off the backs of the boys in the trenches.

For every man with a gun, the real monster was a faceless man in an office calling his shots.

She hated to admit she enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath, of the silk stockings she hadn’t had in months, of a new green silk dress that hugged her curves and didn’t smell like mothballs, of shoes that fit and hadn’t ever seen a patch of mud. She felt guilty every minute, preening and putting on make-up and rolling her hair just right so that she wouldn’t stand out. The guilt had nearly overwhelmed her, but she had a job to do, and she could deal with the emotional toll of this later.

By the way everyone looked when they walked into the mansion, she and Wallace stood out. Their novelty dimmed, however, as they were slowly introduced around the room. Once they were no longer strangers, they were no longer a unique oddity to be admired or a threat to be monitored. Wallace worked hard to get in front of the generals, in front of the men with the most medals and the stiffest backs in the room, to get some facetime with the people that could get him closer to whatever his goal was.

She only had one goal: Arnim Zola.

He was Schmidt’s right-hand man, and he was vulnerable tonight.

She had three different plans, depending on how the boys were able to make it in. She guessed they weren’t walking in the front door, as the security was heavy and nearly every man in the room wore the swastika on his arm and carried a gun with him. She only hoped they could follow her lead, or she could pick up whatever plan they’d come up with quickly to avoid a disaster.

Step one: meet Zola.

Peggy let Richard pull her around the ballroom for a while, smiling and nodding on his arm, keeping quiet as they traded stories and allegiances. She kept Zola in her sights throughout the night, taking note that he was often alone, and easily flustered. She smiled, realizing that his cheeks reddened every time he talked to a beautiful woman.

Peggy made her excuses and stepped out of the ballroom for a breath of fresh air. She’d hoped she’d be able to make contact with the boys but they weren’t anywhere to be found near or around the small, empty balcony. She took the moment to compose herself, and waited until the doctor was situated between her and Wallace so it wouldn’t look like she’d avoided Wallace, but rather ran into the doctor by mistake.

And run into him she did, literally, bumping his shoulder as she moved past him, covering her face and putting on her apologies before feigning recognition. “I’m sorry, are you Doctor Zola?”

He almost chocked on a sip of his Champaign. He looked her up and down, and Peggy smiled even wider, knowing that her care in dressing had done its job. “Yes,” he choked out as he regained his composure. “And who might you be?”

Peggy put her hand in his and let him kiss the back of it, forcing a blush by imagining Steve. “Oh, me? I’m nobody. But I just couldn’t help but overhear your name whispered here and there, and to have the chance to meet you!” She giggled and shrugged. “Though I am quite sorry for bumping into you.”

“Oh, no matter, my dear. But for such a beautiful creature, I must have a name.” He was earnest, and she almost, almost felt bad for what she was about to do.

“Maggie,” she replied softly, not feeling bad at all as she remembered the thousands of men that had died because of him.

He smiled, not letting go of her hand, and she smiled right back.

~*~

Bucky did not like hiding in the closet outside of the bathroom, but he did it because there was really no other choice than to sit there and wait for Peggy. They’d managed to sneak their way in through the basement early this morning through a drainage ditch, and Steve and Dugan were hiding on the floor below them in a root cellar.

The fact that Bucky was the only one small enough to fit in the dumbwaiter to get between floors was the only reason it was him and not Steve up here. He tried not to swear as yet another woman passed him that wasn’t Peggy.

“One click if you can hear me, Buck.” Steve’s voice came through his comm. It was tinny and buzzed incessantly, but the earpiece radios Stark had made them were far, far better than the bulky blocks they’d carried in the field up until now. Bucky clicked the talk button on the small box on his belt and waited for Steve to continue. “Dugan and I have managed to get our hands on some SS uniforms.”

Bucky clicked twice, acknowledging that he understood. Barnes wondered if they’d knocked people out and stolen their clothes, or if they’d simply found the wash.

He stopped, all thoughts gone out of his head when he saw Carter turn down the small hall, slowly moving towards the bathroom and seemingly absent mindedly turning door knobs.

He waited until she stepped into the small bathroom then slipped in behind her.

“Well, it’s about—” Peggy stopped, putting her hand over her mouth to stop from screaming. “You’re not Steve.”

Barnes shrugged. “He didn’t fit in the dumbwaiter.”

“I’m not going to even ask,” she sighed, sitting her hip against the sink and stepping out of her heels to rub her feet. “We have a small window of time. I’m going to get Zola into the office one hallway down. Do you know it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“I’ll incapacitate him, then you three are up, alright? He should be out for several hours, at least, but please be careful. If you jostle him enough, he will wake up.”

“Wake up?” Barnes asked.

“Wake up,” she confirmed. She looked him over, the black fatigues out of place in the resplendent bathroom. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Barnes smirked at her, “You think we can’t?”

Peggy sighed and smiled. “If I didn’t miss you so much, I’d hit you.” She moved to walk past him then stopped, serious. “One more thing, and you mustn’t forget.”

~*~

Bucky unfurled himself from the dumbwaiter, misjudging the distance and falling to the floor in a heap. “God, I hate that.”

“What happened? How is she?” Steve peppered him with questions as he helped him stand, looking awful Aryan with his blonde hair and blue eyes and the red band brandished across his arm. Dugan, too, fit in just a little too well in the suit now that he’d bleached his hair.

Bucky took them in as he stood, trying to shake the earie feeling seeing them in the uniforms of the enemy. “She’s fine. We’ve got about fifteen minutes to get to the office down the hall from the bathroom. We should be able to take the back stairs.” Bucky had done the interior recon early in the morning, slipping through and learning the layout when the residents inside had all been sleeping. “You got one of those for me?”

Steve handed him a pile. “They should fit.”

Bucky stripped and put the new clothes on, stopping as he buttoned up the jacket. “She- shit.” Bucky looked at Steve, lips pursed tight as he shook his head. “She told me not to forget something.”

“And you forgot it?” Dugan asked, incredulous.

“I mean, it wasn’t that important.” He moved back to buttoning himself into the jacket. “Come on, she’s waiting on us.”

~*~

Peggy rounded the table, pretending to be infinitely interested in the little metal figures that told a story of Aryan supremacy. “I find it all very fascinating, Doctor Zola.”

He smirked, downing the rest of his Champaign. “As I thought you might, fraulein.”

She stepped up to him, close, and played with the edge of his collar. “It’s so hard to find a man of substance these days,” she whispered, letting her nail run down over the buttons on his shirt.

“Ah, my dear, we are all involved in bringing glory to our cause!” He proudly exclaimed, watching her hand and then looking up into her eyes. “I might say, it is… refreshing to have a woman find interest in the matters of the mind. Usually, they are interested in more… superficial things.”

Peggy turned them so he was looking away from the door. She’d left it cracked, and could see shadows. She couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t Steve and the boys, so she made her move. “Ah, yes, well, I am not one of those women.”

She leaned down and kissed him, lips pressed tight to his, for long seconds. He was surprised at first, but began to participate wholeheartedly once the initial surprise passed, gripping her tight with small, sweaty hands that roamed. She counted in her head, and Peggy pulled back as soon as she’d made sure it had been long enough, smiling at his fluster. “You see, I’m a different kind of woman all together.”

He started to reply, but found he couldn’t. Slowly, Peggy lowered him to the floor as his eyes fluttered shut.

She looked up, feigning surprise as the door opened. She’d been ready to call out, concerned that the Doctor had passed out on her from too much to drink when she saw the uniforms, but smiled when she saw the face attached. “Right on time, men.”

“Damn, Peggy,” Dugan whispered. “You are good at getting things done!”

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, stepping over Zola and helping her to stand.

“I’m fine. A little disgusted at the revelry, but fine.” She looked around, watching as Barnes and Dugan lifted the doctor, slinging his arms around their necks. “You’ll be able to get him out?”

“We’ve got a truck waiting half a click south just outside a sewer.” Barnes whispered. “Won’t be pleasant, but we’ve got it.”

“You have to ask him about this Swiss base, Steve.” She held his hands tight and pleaded with him. “They have something there, something related to those energy weapons Howard’s been studying. I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. And it has to be stopped.”

“You do it,” Steve whispered fiercely. “Come with us.”

She shook her head. “We both disappear and that’s a target on us all. Besides, I’m headed to the Alps tomorrow, the base the day after.” She gave him a small, nervous smile. “I don’t know how, but Wallace has arranged an audience with Schmidt.”

“Then here,” Steve shoved a small square in her hand. “Beacon. Turn it on tomorrow. Howard says it should last three days. We’ll track you.”

“Come on, buddy, we gotta go,” Barnes whispered. “Party’s breaking up and they’re gonna find us.”

Without warning Steve grabbed her and kissed her. Peggy pushed him away to his confusion.

“Barnes!” She half yelled, half whispered, shooting daggers over Steve’s shoulder at the man.

“What—” Steve could barely get the word out before he fell to the ground, eyes blinking shut.

“That’s why you didn’t want him to kiss you?!” Barnes looked at her and almost dropped Zola. “You gotta say stuff like that, Carter! I thought you just didn’t want to be messin’ around while on a mission!”

She dropped to her knees and started gently hitting Steve’s cheek. “Yes, Barnes, I didn’t want to be ‘messin’ around’ on a mission, especially when I have knock out lipstick on, you dolt!” She took a deep breath. “Get Zola out, Steve’ll be around in a minute or so and I’ll send him after you.”

“Are you—” Dugan started to question her, but her stern look stopped him. He and Barnes hiked Zola higher and with a glance, moved him out into the empty hallway.

“How much you want to bet he’s done that before?” Dugan whispered as they moved.

“Oh, I’m sure that idiot has done that before.” Bucky paused, hiking the small man higher over his shoulder. “How do you think she knows how long it’ll take him to wake up?”

“Good point.”

#Steggy Fic #Steggy #3P's Fic

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milkybunbuns · 3 years

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i. new beginnings → perfection masterlist → next

w/c: 3.3k

warnings: bnha spoilers ahead (season 1 episode 5 mainly)

a/n: this series will follow closely with the anime although I might be missing parts of it since it’s been a while since I watched BNHA. also i went overboard with this aishhh, though I don’t think future chapters will be so long oh and I couldn’t be original so I stole the quirk idea from one of my old fics on wattpad and added more abilities to it haha

“Aww comee onn you really can’t be sending me to UA, you know how much I like being at home with you!”, you whined at Keigo, grabbing tightly onto his arm and digging the soles of your feet into the carpet of the living room.

The said man sighed, facepalming, “Look nuggie, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable but you’re gonna have to interact with people if you’re going to become a popular pro hero in the future like me!!”

“But can’t you just keep home schooling and training me?”

“I would, but I have hero work to do as well at the agency and I wouldn’t have enough time to help you out”, you pouted and kept your ground in the living room. It had already been a fussy morning with Keigo chasing you everywhere to get you to put on your uniform. With a final rub of his temples he spoke up again, “I’ll let you buy anything at the grocery store tonight?”

You looked up at him and stuck a pinky out, “Pinky promise?”

“Yup!!” and before you could even respond he scooped you up, already flying out of the building and flying towards what you assumed was the direction of UA.

“Please warn me next time!”, you yelled over the wind as you held on tightly, you would use your quirk but you still didn’t have a licence and you were still learning how to fly through narrow spaces. Crashing into a building didn’t sound very appetising at the moment. It wasn’t too long before you spotted the easily recognisable glass building of UA, Keigo slowing down for a landing and allowing you to get off.

“Alright I’ll see you later nuggie!”, he waved cheerily, already getting ready to take off.

You just nervously responded with an “uh-huh”, while examining the surroundings, students bustling everywhere. Alright 1-A it was, I should probably ask someone, maybe someone who looks nice. Hmm, how about that purple-haired boy, yeah, he looks like a senior and doesn’t look too bad. You briskly walked up to the purple haired male with elf ears, “Err, hii-”

He looked up at you with shock and you could see bullets of sweat dripping off his forehead, “u-uh h-h-hi”, he meekly responded, looking like he was going to die any second.

Just as you were about to ask for directions to 1-A, too cherry voices called out to the boy in front of you, “Woah, you’re socialising Tamaki! Great job!”, a blonde boy with blue eyes strolled up to his friend, grinning brightly and giving him two thumbs up.”

“Hey Mirio! Wait up!!”, you turned around, immediately spotting a light blue haired girl rushing towards her friends waving happily. She must’ve noticed you standing there awkwardly and quickly came to your rescue, “Hi!! I’m Nejire and that’s Tamaki and Mirio! You must be a first year here!”, she smiled at you gently, pointing to the respective people as she introduced you to them.

“Nice to meet you Nejire-senpai, I’m L/n Y/n. Also do you know where 1-A is, I’m kinda lost”, you had enrolled as L/n Y/n instead of Takami Y/n as to not reveal the last name of Hawks since it was meant to be kept secret for some reason he didn’t tell you about.

“Speak no more, we’ll guide you there since we’re the big 3 after all!”

“Huh, what’s the big 3?”

“Oh, it’s basically 3 students in their third years who are talented and I guess you could say that’s us. Come on Mirio and Tamaki, let’s help bring this student to her class.”

Mirio took your right side, while Nejire led on in front, pointing out different buildings and Tamaki in the back.

“I’m Mirio! Great to meet you!”, he reached a hand to shake with you which you quickly did, “Same here Mirio-senpai, I’m L/n Y/n.”

“You’ll be seeing us around the school plenty, so if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask us or any of the teaching staff, they’re always happy to help! Well, I guess I can’t really say the same about Mr. Aizawa..”

“Oh, isn’t Mr. Aizawa, Eraserhead?”

“Yeah, he is and as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be your teacher this year.”

“That’s uhh wonderful, he sounds like a great guy!”, you replied awkwardly trying to sound cheery.

“Don’t worry too much, you’ll do fine”, he patted you on the back reassuringly and at the same moment, Nejire announced that you had arrived at 1A.

“Thank you Nejire, Mirio and Tamaki-senpai”, you bowed to them, before they sought you off, heading for their own classes. Pushing the door open, the room was already bustling with students and you scanned your eyes over the room finding a seat between a spiky red hair boy and a green haired girl who looked a bit like a frog. Honestly, the random desk at the back seemed wonderful at first, but you remembered how Keigo had encouraged you to sit around more social people and they seemed social enough. It was probably the least you could do after he went through all the convincing with Nezu and some other things to get you to UA without having to take any tests.

You were really relieved when neither of them didn’t bother to talk to you, or notice you maybe, and continued on chatting to their friends. It seemed like you were just on time, the bell ringing and yet not any sight of any teacher. Frowning slightly, you were about to get up and go to the staff room which Nejire had pointed out earlier to search for Aizawa-sensei.

Luckily, he arrived in some sort of yellow sleeping bag which slightly resembled a cocoon, announcing in a sorta lazy and flat tone, “Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends. This is the hero course.”

The room quickly quieted down and became silent as everyone averted their attention to Aizawa, “It took 8 seconds before you quieted down. You kids aren’t rational enough. I’m your homeroom teacher Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you. This is sudden, but put this on”, he presented a UA PE uniform out of thin air, or maybe he had it hidden inside his sleeping bag that whole time? “And meet me at the field after.”

Without any hesitation, everyone got up and grabbed their PE uniform from the desk which had their names on the packaging, likely to have been pre-ordered and filed out of the classroom towards the lockers. You grabbed yours, grimacing as a blond spiky haired boy shoved past you, resisting the temptation to yell at him and give him a piece of your mind. Like what, how can someone be so rude!

Upon arrival at the locker rooms, you didn’t really try to socialise with anyone, nor did they, I mean, your locker was in the back corner so they probably wouldn’t notice you anyways which was fine to you. To draw the least attention towards yourself, you waited until all the other girls had headed out happily chatting among themselves, then followed closely behind them and out onto the field where pretty much everyone was already assembled.

“We’ll be having a quirk assessment test”, well there came the flat recognisable tone of Aizawa, he would definitely be an interesting teacher, that’s all you could say for him. Everyone either goraned or shrieked in horrification at this announcement, quirk assessment on the first day? Well damn, okay, thought first day would be a bit more chill. Kinda ironic for someone who seems like he can’t be bothered to do much himself.

“But what about the entrance ceremony or orientation?”, some girl piped up, yup definitely a bubbly one, she should be pretty easy to make friends with.

Okay at this point Aizawa was just getting a bit too blunt, “If you’re going to become a hero you don’t have time for such leisurely events. UA’s selling points is that it’s ways aren’t traditional, which is the same as how the teachers teach.” You watched him carefully as he skimmed over the class, landing on the rude blond spiky kid from earlier, “Bakugo, you finished top of the practical test, didn’t you? What was your furthest throw in middle school?” So Bakugo is his name, I’ll just stay away from him.

The said boy looked up cockily, a shit eating grin on his face, “67 meters.”

“Okay, then try throw this ball, but you can use your quirk.”

“Sure”, he grabbed the ball, leaning back on one foot in the circle and yelling “DIE!” as the ball flew off. It wasn’t took long before a beep came from a device that Aizawa was holding, showing 705.2 meters.

“Know your maximum first, that’s the most rational way to forming the foundations of a hero”, he seriously seemed to have something with things being done rationally...

A chorus of woah’s were heard throughout the class, well that sure did blow up that Bakugo’s ego. His ego must’ve been too big for his own good.

“This is going to be fun!”, an alien looking girl exclaimed punching her fist in the air.

Followed by a black haired boy excitedly looking on, “So we get to use our quirks as much as we want!”

And yet again, the mood came crashing down as Aizawa spoke up again, “It looks fun, huh? You have three years to become a hero, you think it’ll be all fun and games? Sure, then whoever comes last in the 8 tests will be expelled. Welcome to UA’s hero course!”, earning another screech form the class including yourself. Alright Y/n, you are NOT wasting this change Keigo gave you and you better do well in this!

“Let’s begin shall we? Starting with the 50m dash.”

The first two up were blue haired boy and the frog looking girl who sat next to you in class and before you could even blink, the blue haired boy was already off, speeding past the finish line. His quirk must’ve something to do with speed, so don’t panic Y/n, there’s only so much you can do with speed, you encouraged yourself determinedly looking on. And maybe you were a bit tooo busy encouraging yourself when you noticed the same bubbly brown haired girl patted you on the back.

“Hey, it’s your turn. Also, I’m Ochaco Uraraka, nice to meet you!”

“Thanks Ochaco-san, I’m L/n Y/n. We can continue to chat after these tests, sorry”, you apologetically looked at her before rushing towards the starting line. Beside you, was a white and red haired male with a red scar over his left eye. Okay that’s edgy, time to focus! You activated your quirk allowing wings to grow on your back through the use of light energy which was absorbed through two horns on your head.

Ready

Set

Go!

You flapped your wings as fast as you could making it in 4 seconds which wasn’t too much faster than the guy behind you gliding along with ice. Your brain quickly put together what his quirk was, white represents ice and red must represent fire. Wonder why he didn’t use his fire like the explosions of that Bakugo boy, it would’ve been much faster than skating.

Then came the grip test which you absolutely flunked, only coming in at 43kg which was pretty much the lowest in the class. Well what can some damn light energy do to help increase your grip? All it’ll do is burn your hands off.

After came the standing long jump with you passed with breeze, just flying to clear the sandbox and with the repeated side steps you simply used pure speed to get through it. And at last, came the ball throw the one which you were most excited for since you had a great plan to get a good score. When it came up to your turn you grabbed the ball tightly throwing it up in the air gently right above you, then activating your quirk and encasing it in a bright bubble made of light energy, then sent it off, controlling the bubble to keep going forwards without leaving the circle at all. You concentrated hard, thinking about the ball in your mind and it got more difficult to control until you couldn’t visualise it’s location anymore and let it drop. A beep was heard as Aizawa presented you with his device, showing 1638 meters.

Satisfied with your work, you smiled a bit and got back to your place.

“Midoriya, your turn”, the green haired boy nervously walked forwards, grabbing onto the ball and throwing it. You almost scoffed, if you didn’t feel the teeniest bad for the poor boy who had seemed so confused. Something was surely off about him, how did someone who can barely even use or control their quirk get into UA... He was given another chance, getting almost the same as Bakugo, except his hand turned a weird purple colour. That must be one powerful quirk for one weak body, you grimaced at his injury.

“Ow, that’s gotta hurt, Aizawa-sensei sure is harsh”, Ochaco frowned at the scene in front.

“I mean yeah he is, but not gonna lie, if I was in Aizawa’s spot I’d seriously be wondering how he got in, though he does have some potential with a quirk as powerful as his.”

“I’m sure he’ll get better, hopefully he’s not last, I’m really hoping that Mineta kid gets expelled, I already don’t really like him just by the looks of him.”

“Either it’s a crush or just you dislike Mineta, but then again, you shouldn’t be judging a book by its cover.”

“Eh what make sure you think that!”, she panicked cheeks flushed, “Its just that Mineta guy really seems like a perv.”

“Well, in that case, I guess it’s kinda his own fault, first impressions are key.”

“That’s true I guess.”

The two of you were snapped out of your conversation when Aizawa’s voice rang through the field, pulling up a projection, or was it a hologram? Anyways, you quickly skimmed through the board, searching for your name and you were glad to see you had landed a decent spot, coming in 3rd, just behind the Todoroki kid. And in last came Midoriya, ow, that’s seriously gotta be a huge blow to his self esteem.

“No ones actually gonna get expelled, it was just a rational deception to get you all to go beyond.”

“It was clear it was a rational deception”, Momo who you had seen on the top of the board piped up unhelpfully.

“Ughhh well that’s just greaaat”, you groaned into your hands “and now we appear to have a smartie genius know it all in our class as well”, you muttered annoyed as Ochaco sweat dropped patting your back slowly.

“L/n, you should not be so disrespectful to your classmates!”, Iida reprimanded, chopping his arms up and down.

“Okay thank you thank you.”

Finally school had been dismissed and you stood outside the gates of UA, impatiently tapping your feet as you waited for Keigo to come pick you up as other students made their own way home. It had been 10 minutes already and the bird brain still hadn’t picked you up! Welll, he didn’t really ever specify that he would come pick you up, you just kinda assumed? Frowning, you activated your quirk, not give one hec about the no quirk in public rule since walking home would take forever and you didn’t have that kind of time smh. Flapping your wings and stretching your arms, you prepared to take off and far into the sky where the police wouldn’t be able to see you flying around.

“What are you doing using your quirk in public without a licence?”, a loud voice boomed, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh hi Endeavour-san!”, you smiled a bit, continuing to ignore his words and continue what you were going to do. You were really great at being annoying and ignoring people, just a trait you picked up from Hawks I guess.

Endeavour deadpanned, “You’re not allowed to be using your quirk and I know you don’t have a licence, so you need to go and take public transport or walk like everyone else.” He was completely ignored as you started floating a bit, “Well, I’ll be off then! Have a wonderful evening Endeavour-san and Todoroki-san.”

You flew off, but before you could get anywhere, Endeavour was already pulling you down by your foot, I mean, considering how strong he is, it succeeded. “Okay then Mr.Smartie, how am I meant to get home now without my quirk huh? I have no clue how public transport works”, you sneered at him, huffing and crossing your arms unimpressed.

“Go walk home.”

“But it takes a long time.”

“Then go figure out the public transport time schedules.”

At this point, you were sick and tired of him and Todoroki looked pretty annoyed as well, so you decided to do everyone a favour. You grabbed Todoroki by the wrist running off and dragging him while waving back at Endeavour, “I promise I’ll return him in one piece! You don’t need to worry!!”

Endeavour was about to chase after you, but you were already gone and out of sight, whatever, he had to return to his patrol anyways. It could also be good training for Shoto to deal with the annoying villains, not saying you were a villain, but you sure did fit that annoying standard.

“Your welcome”, you yawned lazily, staring up at the sky while walking. Todoroki was still confused but if being with you let him get away from being with his father he was more than glad too. Plus, he could use this chance to find any weaknesses about you, you seemed quite strong and could be someone to look out for in the UA sports festival.

“How did you talk to my father like that? Most people would’ve never had the guts to do it.”

“Wellll, for one, I’m not most people and I know him pretty well, I’ve talked to him a lot of times on his patrols. There’s almost nothing scary about him, he’s just a big fire guy walking around with an angry voice, but it’s not like he can harm any of us, he’s a hero.”

Todoroki felt his blood boil at what you had said, Endeavour was no hero, driving his mother to the end of her wits, training him harshly from a young age, some hero. But the rational part of his brain won over the emotional part, explaining that you were an outsider and had no clue as to their personal lives. Todoroki was intrigued with your quirk, he wanted to learn more about what it could do, all he knew so far was that you had the ability to create wings, bubbles made of light energy and not very much else. Considering you were the sister of Hawks (Endeavour had told him, I guess that’s something that Endeavour is useful for), he honestly expected more, but you could be holding back. He considered asking you more about your quirk but that would probably make you put walls up around yourself and see him as a threat. It was probably just best to wait and see your full potential.

You noticed it had become silent and nobody had anything to say, enveloping both of you in an awkward silence. Well, you were pretty sure you were the only one feeling awkward. You made up some lame excuse and sent Todoorki off on his way, glad to be out off the awkward silence. UA wasn’t that bad, you supposed.

#mha #bnha #boku no academia #my hero academia #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki #todoroki shoto #wing hero hawks #hawks #mha hawks #keigo takami

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kairos-in-wonderland · 3 years

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Day 2: Knights in Shining Armour

Right, today’s submission is going to be shorter than yesterday’s 😂 This is actually based on a wip I’m writing (but I have a habit of not writing in chronological order so it’s not being uploaded anywhere) and I thought it would be perfect for day 2, I hope y’all enjoy it!

Pairing: OC/Gwaine

Trigger warnings: violence, attempted kidnapping, strangling (only for a moment)

The princess entered the tavern in one of Camelot’s border villages, taking a glance around at the patrons before taking a seat in the corner of the room. She’d been there not much less than an hour, eating and relaxing after the long ride – but then a man approached her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She surveyed him out of the corner of her eye, there was a silver snake emblem on his shirt and her pulse immediately quickened. He was one of Cenred’s knights.

“Well, well, well…” he started, leaning on the table, “If it isn’t the little princess of Camelot, fancy seeing you all the way out here.”

“Well, it is part of my kingdom,” she muttered, “but I don’t believe that you live in Camelot,” the princess stood, finally turning to face him, “so, what is one of Cenred’s knights doing this side of the border?”

“Well, I was just here for a drink – but now I’ve got a much better idea,” he said, reaching to touch her face. She slapped it away and reached for her dagger, “ah, you think you can put up a fight?”

“I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon, of course I can put up a fight,” she smirked – the knight drew her sword and she ducked under it, using her dagger to slice across the inside of his arm. The princess managed to disarm him and they continued to fight, but the knight managed to catch her off guard. He took the dagger from her and pinned her against the table with it against her neck.

“Looks like Uther didn’t train you too well,” the knight laughed, just as another man walked towards them.

“Need some help?” he asked, looking to the princess.

“Back off,” the knight muttered; he switched the hand he was holding the dagger in, strangling the princess as he went to slash at the newcomer. But the man was too quick, before the blade even got close to him he had punched the knight square in the face, knocking him back so hard that he knocked himself out on the table behind him. The princess coughed hoarsely as she sat up, clutching her throat.

“I think you’ll be wanting this back,” the man commented, handing her the dagger.

“Yes, and it seems I owe you my life. Thank you,” she said, getting off the table. It was at this point that she finally got a look at him – deep brown hair that flowed down by his shoulders and hazel eyes that shone gold in the light of the candles. He had a sharp jaw line that was speckled with stubble, causing the princess’ pulse to quicken, “I’d buy you a drink but I should be heading home,” he grinned at her and took the knight’s sword.

“Allow me to escort you out then?” he suggested, and she smiled back as they left the tavern together. As they approached her horse, she turned to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “What was that for?”

“For saving my life,” she said, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Gwaine, and you are?”

“Acelina.”

“That man in there, he kept calling you ‘princess’, are you?”

“Yes,” she nodded sheepishly, “and he’s a Knight of Essetir, that’s why he attacked me. My father is an enemy of Cenred’s, it would’ve been good leverage. So, thank you, Gwaine.”

“Perhaps you would let me join you on your ride back home?”

“Have you nothing better to do?” she laughed, and he smiled.

“Nothing better than escorting a beautiful girl to her home,” he smirked, and the princess flushed pink.

“I bet you flirt with every girl you see, Gwaine.”

“No, just you.”

“Alright,” she gave a nervous laugh and nodded before mounting her horse, “I’d appreciate your company, the ride back to the castle takes two days at best.”

“Well then,” he mounted his horse, right next to her own stallion, “let’s hope I can keep you entertained.”

Acelina couldn’t help but grin as she rode towards Camelot with Gwaine, him regaling her with stories of his exploits across the five kingdoms. It was a comforting feeling, having him there with her when they had to camp for the night in the forest of Ascetir, “So, Gwaine, where are you from?”

“Caerleon’s kingdom, my father was one of his knights.”

“You’re of noble birth then?” the princess felt a glimmer of hope at the thought.

“Technically. But I don’t like it. Caerleon didn’t give any help to my mother once she was widowed, left her penniless with a baby and no husband – he has the title but he’s not noble in anyway.”

“When did your father die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Early enough that I don’t remember a thing about him.”

“I understand, my mother died giving birth to me and my brother. I have this feeling of her, but my father never speaks of her,” she sighed, staring into the flames, “you should get some sleep, I’ll be on watch for now.”

“Okay then, goodnight my lady,” he joked, laying against a tree with his jacket draped over his torso. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he fell asleep – there was something about him that intrigued her, something that she couldn’t quite understand. Acelina spent the few hours of her watch making shapes in the fire, muttering spells under her breath to create different animals in the flames.

When Acelina woke the next day, she realised that Gwaine’s jacket had been draped over her during the night, and she smiled softly as she looked around for him. She couldn’t find him at first but as she cast her eyes to the side she saw him walking towards her, shirt in hand and shaking out his damp hair, “Sorry, went to quickly wash in the stream,” he shoved his shirt on and Acelina stood to hand him his jacket, “you were shivering while you slept, didn’t want you to be cold.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, blushing slightly as she looked up into his eyes. They kept eye contact for a few moments until she nervously cleared her throat and reached for her bag, “uh, have you fed the horses?”

“Yeah, while you were sleeping, thought you’d be eager to get home.”

“Do you honestly think your company is that unpleasant?” she joked, but he looked uneasy, “It’s not, I enjoy your company Gwaine.”

“You’ve only just met me,” he sighed, and she took a step towards him, “I can be a lot to deal with.”

“Well, I like what I’ve seen so far,” she assured him, tentatively reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I think, if you’d let me, I’d like to get to know you properly.”

“Really?” he laughed nervously, and she nodded, “I think you’d be the first,” there was a moment of eye contact, both of them unsure, before Gwaine leaned down to kiss her. Acelina responded eagerly and moved her arms to rest on his shoulders as his hands moved to her waist. When they finally moved apart it was with a deep breath and unmovable grins on each of their faces.

“Now I’m actually kinda glad that knight tried to kidnap me,” Acelina laughed, smiling up at Gwaine, “otherwise I probably wouldn’t have seen you in the tavern.”

“Well, I have to admit, that was a pretty great ‘thank you’ for saving your life,” he smirked, and she slapped his arm, “come on. As much as I’d love to stay here with you, your father will be expecting you home soon. I don’t think we want it to get to the point where he sends out a search party.”

“Okay, we’re just at the edge of the forest so it should only take a couple hours to reach the lower town,” she sighed, and they set about packing up and then riding back to Camelot. Gwaine stopped and dismounted his horse as the castle got closer, “you’re not coming with me to the castle?”

“I don’t think that your father would appreciate you being with a commoner,” he sighed, and she got off her stallion to go over to him.

“Do you really dislike nobility that much?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“I dislike people who think nobility just comes from the title, that those without a title can’t be noble in the deeds they do,” he explained, taking her hands in his, “You, Acelina, are not like that – you have a good heart. And beautiful eyes,” she laughed and shook her head at him.

“So, I take it that you don’t usually tell people about your father?”

“I’m surprised I even told you,” he admitted, “there’s just something about you that I knew I could trust. I’d like to see you again though.”

“Well, my father likes to send me to the different villages within Camelot quite often, especially in areas that are by his enemies’ borders. I’m expected to instil their loyalty to him, make sure that, if a man like Cenred decides to try and take Camelot’s land, they will only pledge allegiance to him. If you write to me about where you are then I can try to meet you at the closest village to where you are.”

“That sounds perfect,” he grinned, pressing a long, soft kiss to her lips, “I think I’ll travel to Howden, maybe you can meet me there soon?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she assured him, stroking his cheek before getting back on her stallion, “just a thought… Address your letters to Mirabelle, she’s my maid. It’d be a bit suspicious if I was getting letters from someone who isn’t some kind of knight or prince, he cares a lot more about titles than I do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, my lady,” he grinned, kissing her hand before she rode off towards the castle.

Once again, please let me know if I’ve missed anything that could potentially be a trigger and I’ll add it to the tags. Happy Camelove! 🥰💜💙

#camelove2021 #day 2: knights in shining armour #fanfic #violence tw #attempted kidnapping tw #strangling tw #oc/gwaine

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mimssides · 3 years

Text

One Spade for five Hearts: Chapter 5

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___

“It’s more than one,” Logan heard himself say.

He could punch himself right in the face. Virgil had just given him the perfect out of the situation; Just say that you don’t want to tell them who it is. But no, Logan had to be honest and admit that he had not only one but several soulmates. What was wrong with him?

“Huh, didn’t take you for the polyamorous type…” Remus commented as Logan buried his head in his hands and sighed woefully.

“I was just as surprised, thank you very much,” Logan retorted bitterly and decided to never look up again.

His three friends shared a look in in the meantime. Their otherwise always so knowledgeable and prepared companion seemed to be rather at loss as for what he was to do next. A bit hesitant Virgil put his hand on Logan’s shoulder as Patton put their homework to the side and got out a few snacks from their bag. As they placed a package of cookies on the table, they shot Remus a look with raised eyebrows, prompting kæm to say something.

Taken by surprise Remus cleared kæs throat and told Logan: “Feelings are always surprising, specs. I have tons of them and I’m still getting blindsided by them half the time. But having feelings for several people is fine, man. You’re good.”

“And,” Patton added softly putting a few cookies in front of Logan, “you have no obligation to get involved with your soulmates in any way. It’s not a rule and you are free to do what you deem fit, as long as you are not hurting yourself or others.”

Logan sighed again and Remus raised kæs eyebrow at his dramatic display. Like that he almost reminded kæm of Roman’s dramatics.

“Come on, Lo. We get that you don’t like this but we just wanna help you out. There’s no judgement here,” Virgil tried to get Logan to at least look up for a moment.

Logan didn’t look up though. He kept his eyes shut in his face buried in his hands. He really just wanted this to stop. Also, he very much doubted that they wouldn’t judge him for this. All of this would certainly mess with their friendship and Logan didn’t want to risk that.

And as if Virgil had heard his thoughts he asked suddenly in shock: “Wait. Are you scared us knowing because we know them?”

“Uuh! Juicy! What a bad boy you are, Logie!” Remus said with a chuckle.

And just then Logan made the mistake of looking up to Remus. Immediately his face flushed more, he could feel it, and hid his face again in his hands. That move did not go unnoticed by the three others and their thoughts were racing.

Was it Remus? No, it couldn’t be otherwise Logan would not have come. Logan would never make a mistake like that. But why then would he blush even more looking at Remus? Did kæ remind him of his crush?

“Are you-” Remus started hit by a sudden realisation, “are you in love with my sister? Oh, my gods do you have the hots for my siSTER!”

Logan let his head drop on the table and let out a pained wince which answered Remus’s question adequately. Remus flapped kæs hands and started squealing for a few moments, while Patton and Virgil were still recovering from that revelation. But it did make sense. And it made quite clear why Logan was so worried. This could very well change their group dynamic completely and Virgil knew how much Logan liked what he had with them. These were their first friends who weren’t Spades and Logan loved their company and time spent together more than anything.

“I - wow,” mumbled Patton before they motioned Remus to dial it back a little. “Logan this is. This. Well. It is a little unexpected to say the least but Roman is a fine person and I am sure she wouldn’t be mad if you told her.”

Logan groaned against the table top and the three others exchanged looks once more. This would be harder than they had anticipated. Especially considering that Roman was not the only soulmate Logan had according to him. And Remus knew too well that Roman wasn’t one for sharing.

“Not to make you more uncomfortable, if that’s even possible,” kæ said forcing kæmself to sound nonchalantly, “but who is the other one? Like, if it’s anyone but Erin I think Ro might get upset if she had to share you. But what are the odds of the other one being her, right?”

Remus snickered a little after kæs comment only to rapidly stop when Logan sat up and stared kæm right in the eyes. As he looked at kæm, he took a deep breath and took one of the cookies in front of him.

“Well, I clearly beat all he odds then,” Logan commented defeatedly and took a bite from the sweet treat.

Remus blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then kæ asked: “Are you serious?”

Logan wanted to point to his tie but remembered just in time that today he wasn’t wearing one and instead settled with the answer: “Yes, I am fucking serious. Can I now please die peacefully of embarrassment?”

“Oh, sweetie no!” Patton told him fiercely. “Feelings are not embarrassing and certainly something you would die of. It’s okay! I am sure you can make it work. They are both very sweet people and if you talk with them, they’ll be happy to find a solution with you. No matter what that looks like.”

Logan just huffed and looked down. They didn’t understand how difficult this was. Of course, they couldn’t since they didn’t know he lo- liked them as well. And he wanted them all. He wanted them all to know and be okay with it but he also didn’t want to tell them and see their reactions.

“They’ll be happier together without me,” Logan eventually said not looking to Patton. “I’m not good at this and they can be perfectly happy without me messing things up for them. It’s better like this.”

There followed a beat of silence.

“This is so not “better like this”, man. You sound miserable talking about not being with them! Are you really telling yourself that you are going to be happy without ever admitting your feelings to yourself or them?” Remus asked.

Logan jerked his head up and glared at kæm with tears welling up in his eyes: “How could I deny this! It’s - It’s far too strong to ignore how much they mean to me and I just don’t want to hurt them with my stupid emotions! Their lives are complicated enough without some stupid nerd fawning over them. I don’t want to add to their stress. I – I just want them to be happy and I don’t know that I could make them happy. Not as much as I want them to be, anyway.”

Another beat of silence followed by the sound of gentle cooing by Patton accompanied by the sweetest little Tings Logan had ever heard.

“That is such a sweet sentiment, Logan!” Patton squealed very unaware of the fact that they just caused Logan to fluster even more.

Then Logan felt Virgil’s hand on his shoulder and heard a small change in Virgil’s melody, which he really didn’t like but could not exactly explain why.

He didn’t get to muse over it as Virgil asked him: “Are you that serious about them, Lo? Are they truly that important to you that you think you should suffer for them to be happy?”

Logan just wanted to say yes. Of course, they were worth it. Of course, he would suffer for them if it made their lives better. No questions there. But he couldn’t say that now. Not when he couldn’t tell Virgil that he felt just the same for him.

“Erin is lovely. She is graceful and such a great improviser. She is so wickedly intelligent and knows so well how to read people when I have no clue what is even going on. She listens so well and she doesn’t use sarcasm around me as much because I have expressed my difficulties of understanding sarcastic remarks. And her voice is very nice. Very nice. And Roman... Roman is like a freight train. I don’t know how to stop her and sometimes she makes me not want to stop her, even though it is stupid and dangerous. She is so much prouder than I could be and she is so unafraid to hold my hand or hug me even though so many other people shy away from me because of my name. They are both amazing and I don’t want to make them worry or sad because of some stupid crush or soulmate curse. They deserve someone to woo them correctly and love them best.”

They really were amazing, Logan realized once more as he was talking and felt even more inadequate than he had before. They truly deserved the world and not some stupid boy like him.

“Oh, honey.”

“Logan no.”

“Lo...”

And so, did those three. Their compassion made Logan weak and he glimpsed to Virgil by his side. He looked at him with such sorrow that Logan could not help himself but slump together.

“Lo, please that’s simply not true,” Virgil said oh so gently and Logan really wanted to believe him. “You’re an amazing guy and I do think they both like you well enough. I don’t know if they are in love with you but – They might be and then it would hurt them a lot if they didn’t get a chance to be with you just because you decide you are not good enough for them. Because, trust me, you are amazing. I’ve seen you be spectacular and Roman certainly thinks the same considering you caught her and Erin after she jumped out of a window.”

“I fell, though,” Logan faintly objected.

Remus almost audibly rolled kæs eyes and retorted to that: “She didn’t warn you that she’d jump. And while you are strong, catching two people is not an easy task, dearest shield. Also, you caught them nevertheless, so don’t worry about it.”

Logan looked up to kæm and allowed himself to feel a bit comforted by kæs words. He had caught them after all. Quietly, he looked at the cookie in his hand and gulped for a moment. Maybe it would work out eventually.

“Is that when it happened? When you caught them?” Virgil caught him off guard and he jerked his head up to look at him.

“The moment of harmony?” Logan asked for clarification and to buy himself some time. “I think it was a little later, when we started running, but I didn’t realize until after. Then I heard it.”

“Heard what?” Patton asked curiously.

Logan cleared his throat. He still hadn’t figured out what the melodies really were. He was positive that they were instruments but he could not clearly point out what kind of instruments, since all of this was very new to him. Maybe bringing it up with Virgil would make things easier now. He knew part of it now, so why not try to utilise his newfound resources.

“So,” Logan started rubbing his thumb over the cookie, “that fact about the curse had never been mentioned to me before but I hear some sort of music around my soulmates? Not- not like music you listen to, Virgil. It is just one thing that makes the melody and, uhm, beat and, uh, rhythm, I think? No voices singing or something like that. I think, it’s just one instrument for each of them and they change according to things they feel, but I am really bad at reading that and I did not have a lot of practice figuring that out.”

“That’s so cool!” Virgil immediately said and unlocked his phone. “Do you want help with figuring out what instruments they have?”

“Please yes, very much so.”

And so, Virgil helped Logan to get acquainted with different instruments. Both Remus and Patton gave their inputs as well, and were highly entertained by Logan’s all too concentrated face as he tried to focus on the music that was playing. It took them a while until they figured out that both had string instruments. Erin was identified first as a violin and Roman apparently had some sort of harp.

“Good fits,” Remus commented after thinking for a moment, while Logan finally ate the cookie he had been given. “The minimal changes you can create with a violin really fit Erin’s micro expressions and the harp is just extra enough to fit Ro.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean to her! It’s also a very miraculous instrument and fits her finer and dreamier side very well,” Patton scolded and the couple bickered for a moment.

Virgil listened to them with a grin and shot Logan a side look to see if he was just as amused as he was. But instead of amusement he found a frown on his friend’s face, as he munched on his cookie. Subtly, Virgil nudged him and Logan looked up to him.

For a moment there was a wordless exchange until Logan admitted in a small voice: “I miss hearing them. I missed hearing you too, but talking about them and listening to their instruments makes me – it makes me want to hear them more.”

“Good news then!” Remus exclaimed scaring both Spades successfully. “The rehearsal is still on! We can go there and listen to them sing, specs! There’s a song at the end of the thing and you might like to hear that.”

Logan did not get much of a choice after that. Patton was immediately enraptured with the idea and apparently, they had a contagious effect on Virgil as he immediately went with the idea and help the two other boys pack up their stuff and then pulled Logan along as they went to the assembly hall where the rehearsal took place. Logan tried to chicken out, telling Virgil that they had to finish their reading but was thoroughly ignored. And the last protests that was left in him died the second they had pushed him inside the assembly hall and Roman’s voice and her melody filled the room as she was delivering a rather dramatic monologue.

From that moment on, Logan was simply pulled along by the others and stared to the stage where Roman was performing with another kid, apparently the villain of the story. They took a seat in a middle row but Logan barely noticed anything as Erin just entered the stage and backed Roman’s character up. Their melodies were resonating and despite the tense scene that was taking place in the play, Roman’s Plings were playful and accompanied the quick and light mmmngs from Erin.

Logan was mesmerized by their acting and he didn’t notice the fond looks Patton and Virgil exchanged as they watched him. No, Logan was so captured in their performance that he barely noticed how fast his heart was beating and how happy it made him to see them like this. Their passion and talent were extraordinary and Logan wanted them to feel this happy all the time.

And then the song came. Roman and Erin started to sing a soft little duet, just accompanied by a guitar. It wasn’t a complicated song by any means but something about it went right into Logan’s heart and he grabbed Virgil’s hand vigorously. He didn’t know why, just that he needed to hold something or otherwise his heart would figuratively jump out of his chest and explode.

Virgil flinched a little, when Logan’s hand was suddenly on his but recovered quickly when he realised that Logan was probably overwhelmed by all the music and singing in this very moment. Most Spades were rather sensitive to sound and connected outstandingly well over music. Logan hadn’t been exposed to music in the past and right now it was coming all at once for him. So, Virgil kept watching Logan cautiously, ready to get him outside if need be.

Luckily, that did not end up being the case and Roman and Erin ended their duet and the theatre kids bowed proudly as their rehearsal had ended. Remus then forced Logan to get up and pulled him along towards the stage. Patton was following kæm closely and tried to get him to cool down but before they could stop, Roman had jumped down from the stage and approached the little group with a big smile on her face. Both Patton and Virgil kept a close eye on Logan who looked extremely stiff as Roman walked up to him.

And as Remus stepped to the side Roman quickened her pace and tackle hugged Logan with a little sprint on her last steps towards him. Logan had to catch his breath before he could gingerly put his hands around Roman’s shoulder and hugged her back.

“Man specs! You really scared us with your disappearing act, you know?” Roman said after pulling back from the hug.

Logan absentmindedly nodded and told her: “That wasn’t my intention. I did not mean to worry you.”

Roman laughed lightly at the stern tone of his voice and shook her head fondly.

“Oh, don’t feel bad about it! I’m glad you’re back! Did you talk with Virgil? He was so worried about you,” Roman asked him vividly.

For a few seconds Logan just heard Roman’s Plings. They made him feel warm and listening close to this melody he somehow got the sense of relieve and joy coming from Roman, before he actually heard what Roman had said. And then he turned around and shot Virgil a panicked look. Yet before Logan could dissolve into panic, Erin’s voice pulled him out and he turned back to see her standing behind Roman and holding her by the shoulder.

Smoothly Erin said to Logan: “Don’t think about it too hard, Logan. Ro is forgetting herself. And we all know how easily worried Virgil is.”

Virgil’s first instinct was to snap at Erin but he did not do that in favour of giving Logan a reassuring nod. Logan was more important than a petty jab with the laughable Dimond.

Erin then asked if they had enjoyed the show, which Logan awkwardly confirmed and told them that he really liked the song. For a minute they talked a bit longer, before Roman and Erin had to go back and the four which were left back needed to get ready for class.

Logan and Virgil headed to Geography and Virgil made sure to make enough notes for the both of them as he saw Logan still being a bit lightheaded after all that had transpired in the last two hours. It probably also was the first time ever for him to Logan an answer the teacher had asked him. Eventually, the class ended and the two headed home.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Logan said after a few minutes of quiet walking together.

Virgil raised his eyebrows. That was a rather emotional wording for Logan and he scratched his nose and looked down to the wheels of his bike.

“She’s not wrong to say that I worry too much, Lo. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

Virgil looked up and saw the guilty look on Logan’s face. He wanted to say something to console him but Logan was quicker.

“You know me better than they do, and I should have been more considerate about all of this. Having a soulmate or not having a soulmate is such an insignificant thing and I clearly blew it out of proportion. And while I agree that having emotions is difficult and that I am allowed to feel them, I should not make you suffer because of that. Just because I have difficulties you shouldn’t have to have them too. I’m truly sorry for what I did and I will try and do better from now on.”

Virgil stopped in his step and gaped at Logan for a moment. He stood there with this determined face and the little cease between his brows his father had too, when he was promising something that he really, really wanted to fulfil. Virgil loved it. Frankly, he loved Logan for a good while, around eleven years now, and moments like this always made him fall deeper.

And it also made it harder for him to tell Logan what he told him next: “Apology accepted if you promise me to keep me updated on this soulmate situation. I know how you think about the curse and that you don’t think that soulmates are important but I think today in the rehearsal I almost saw you have a heart attack because of them singing together and I’d say that does mean something.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed again and he began to vent over how fast his heart was beating around them and how inconvenient that was. Virgil laughed a little, as Logan went on and explained how the feelings had been there before but he hadn’t noticed it until that moment when they started running and now, they were getting stronger and more distracting. Even as they reached Logan’s home the boy went on and for the first time since last Tuesday, Virgil stopped and listened to his friend in front of the driveway for a few minutes. This was okay even if it meant that he would help Logan with figuring out what to do about his very obvious crushes and probably giving away his own chance to ever be together with his best friend.

But that was okay. Virgil just wanted to be close with Logan and he believed that his friend wouldn’t abandon him for any romantic interest in the world.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

( @frawkeye - you liked the pictures of the AU, but if you don’t want to be tagged for the story just tell me^^)

@turnedthefreakingfrogsgay (don’t worry I won’t tag you in any more stuff (excpet you want me to^^) but I wanted to say that I did post this chapter on tumblr because of you reblogging it. The story isn’t doing great in the fandom but I am happy it makes at least you happy <3)

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ravenvsfox · 4 years

Text

klance holodeck fic 1/2

Lance is gone. Lost in the plunging gaps between astral bodies, sewn into an invisible seam in spacetime. Missing, for two long years. It’s impossible, to think of the time he's already lost with him. Time passes strangely in a war, and stranger still in space. Stars gasp their dying breaths and ripe dust clouds give birth to whole planetary systems. Some light reaches them with its centuries-old fingers and some can’t weather the journey. So many beings shiver and die. Lance would be twenty now. He tries not to think about it.

Keith can't bring himself to grieve when he knows Lance is still out there. Instead, he follows versions of him down holographic rabbit holes, trying to pry closure out of his memories, and losing himself to an obsession with the simulated landscapes where Lance was never lost.

(Read on AO3)

At first, it’s a french restaurant.

Slate grey and stationery white, sunlight drooping over the tablecloths like curling petals on calla lilies. Keith presses the knot of his tie into the hollow of his throat and swallows against his fingers. The get-up is ridiculous—grey suit, red tie, cufflinks, Italian leather shoes.

He’s never worn anything so expensive or well-tailored in his life, and he can already picture the precise geometry of Lance’s expression when he sees him: badly suppressed smile, like a slipped disc, his cheeks puckered.

Keith seats himself next to the window, fiddling almost immediately with the circlet of his napkin ring. The trees outside rustle and drizzle shade over buskers and vendors across the street. His designer watch has both hands folded over the twelve. A waiter breezes past and lays a rectangle of cardstock in front of him, smiling conspiratorially. As soon as he’s out of view, Keith has forgotten his face.

He looks at the menu, and the transition from the burbling restaurant to the cramped typeface is disorienting, like a cut scene in a video game. When he puts the menu down again, his head is swimming sickly with words like bordelaise and remoulade. And then, like a sweet apparition from a terrible dream, Lance drifts through the doorway.

For a moment, the sight of him is impossibly painful.

Keith’s fingers go again to the knot of his tie, and he makes an involuntary noise, gulping air as if surfacing from extreme physical exertion.

“Lance,” he chokes.

Lance smiles, quicksilver. “Hello.”

“You’re here,” Keith says, staggering to his feet. He crosses the bistro to take Lance bracingly by the wrists. The napkin holder is still in his hand, and the circle of it presses into Lance’s forearm so tightly that his skin bulges through it a little. “Do you—do you know where you’ve been?”

Lance should be defensive, or sly, or angry, or bashful. He should be telling a story that Keith can barely follow at a pitch that he can barely stomach, bragging about all the stupid things and downplaying all the impressive things.

Keith knows that’s not how this works, but still. It’s the Lance he knows.

He focuses on the brittle warmth of his body, the details that are just right. His heart breathes into the paper bag of his chest.

Lance just keeps smiling wanly. His hair is styled wrong—there’s too much volume, and it swoops down too close to one eye. His tie is robin’s egg blue. “No need to get up for little old me.”

Keith shakes his head, off-balance. “What?”

“I’m here to spend time with you! Why don’t we take a seat?”

Keith swallows painfully. It’s like looking at an animatronic figure of his friend—a jolting uncanny robot at an amusement park. “Lance, look at me.”

“How could I not?” he says cheekily, and winks. But his eyes haven’t quite settled into the same groove as Keith’s.

“Tell me—“ Keith starts. “Tell me what you remember. Tell me who you are.”

“Oh, you know me,” he says. “Name’s Lance ‘Loverboy’ McClain, blue paladin, sharpshooter extraordinaire, and defender of the universe.”

“Please.” It’s meant to be derisive, but it ends up falling somewhere closer to desperate. His hands slide up from Lance’s forearms to his shoulders. The napkin ring clatters pointedly to the floor. In a wide, embarrassing moment of weakness, Keith says, “you have to--be him. At least try.”

Lance chuckles.

Keith shakes him, and his shoulders jitter unnaturally.

“Come on. What’s the point if you can’t even act like him? Who would fucking buy this?”

“I don’t—“

“Stop using his voice,” he warns. His hands have crept up to Lance’s neck, and abruptly he lets go, repulsed at the almost-familiar feel of him.

“I would also be pretty overwhelmed to meet an intergalactic celebrity,” Lance assures him.

He’s starting to breathe too fast. He keeps seeing the real Lance—craned into the three-dimensional spread of a star map, brow furrowed, freckled hand curled loosely in the handle of whatever hot drink he found planet-side—superimposed over this stranger’s weird, unblemished face.

“Who am I?” Keith demands.

Lance grins. “My date.”

Keith pushes him hard in the chest. He nearly topples into a neighbouring table, and it’s unlikely, how he keeps his gangly legs underneath his body.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Lance says. “This isn’t the place for roughhousing.”

It’s the wrong cadence, but it’s so like something Lance would say that it’s debilitating. Keith stumbles through the momentum of another graceless shove.

“I told you to stop using his voice,” Keith snaps. “This is cruel.”

“Didn’t you want to meet me here?” Lance asks innocently.

“Of course I did. But you’re not—not—” Suddenly, he’s so fatigued with disappointment that he can’t speak.

After a long moment, he feels an ephemeral hand on his shoulder. And with the help of the ghostly waitstaff, the false Lance maneuvers him back to his place at the table. “Just tell me where to look and I’ll go there,” Keith begs, half-stumbling, half-dragged into his seat. “I swear. I know I can find you, I’ve faced bad odds before.”

“How about a drink?” Lance is saying, apparently unfazed.

“I thought that if you thought like Lance, maybe I could talk an answer out of you,” Keith says. Lance cocks his head, pleasantly receptive. “But really I thought I would look at you and I would feel better. Or at least I would feel angry. But you’re worse than a punching bag.”

“Red?” Lance says, and Keith’s heart is—airborne.

“What?” he asks sharply.

“Wine,” Lance explains. “Red or white?”

His whole body caves in. Rockslide. Catastrophic. He looks into Lance’s wide, earnest eyes, feeling uncomfortably like he’s levelling a shotgun at a newborn. “Neither. End simulation.”

The bistro melts instantly into the oily blackness of the Paladin Simulator.

His jaw is clamped tightly with shame and grief, and as the dark presses in, he folds his arms self-consciously over his chest. He’s ending his session an hour early, and he’s grateful, now, for the uninterrupted quiet.

He shouldn’t have let himself do this.

It should have been obvious what a bad idea it was when he didn’t tell any of the other paladins what he was planning; he was already falling back into his old, knee-jerk isolation, trusting only himself with his secrets.

He just couldn’t take any more of their pity. It was constant, wide-eyed, confused—why would the person who got along with Lance the least feel his absence the most? Sometimes, Hunk looked at Keith exactly the same way he looked at an old clunker of an engine that was in need of replacing.

Keith had heard tell of the simulators years ago, they all had. Liberated planets with the tech (and the admiration) had started building little cyber shrines to Voltron. Like a hyper-advanced arcade game, you could plug in your specifications, step into the simulator, and play out your wildest fantasies.

He’d gathered that tittering fans, unexceptional nerdy types, and bright-eyed kids were the most common customers; the lettering on the swinging board out front promised all kinds of adventure and celebrity:

Join Voltron! Become one of the gang, fighting Galra scum and saving the galaxy from tyranny!

Enjoy a candlelit dinner with the paladin of your choice, and get up close and personal with your hero!

Pick up your very own bayard, and spar with living combat legends! Who will win?!

Although it’s more advanced than the training room controls on the castle of lions, the programming still has its limits. The likenesses aren’t really supposed to stand up to the scrutiny of someone like, say, a paladin himself, but the experience is still sensory, impossible, the science fiction daydream of someone on Earth.

Lance used to love the idea of it, joking that it was the Star Trek filler episode he always wanted. He said he would win every game, romance himself, and beat up holo-Keith without feeling bad about it. He said he could finally stop pulling punches when Keith was just, like, light particles and shit.

In his grief, Keith convinced himself it was right and just and necessary to believe in a false lead. He told himself that the coat rack in the dark looked enough like a person that maybe he could hang all his hopes on it.

And so he had sought out the small, ever-bright planet of Seachmall, where night lasted for twilit months, and massive outdoor markets boasted every good and service you could possibly think of. Continent to continent there were melting, zipping lights, sky-high neon encircling tall buildings like bangles, and criss-crossing lanterns—buoyant in the low gravity—coasting up towards their celestial cousins.

In the capital, the local population joyfully shared liquor and arm-clasping greetings, speaking in the fast creole dialect of a port city, dancing to reality-bending music that haunts every forking path in a dizzying labyrinth of market stalls. Every single day on Seachmall was a feverish, luminous midnight that raged unceasingly past its breaking point.

And every step in the springy too-dark soil, every halting conversation in common, every sizzling technological spectacle that borders on nightmarish, Keith thought that Lance would have eaten this experience alive.

But Lance is gone.

Lost in the plunging gaps between astral bodies, sewn into an invisible seam in spacetime. Missing, for two long years.

It’s impossible, to think of the time he's already lost with him. Time passes strangely in a war, and stranger still in space. Stars gasp their dying breaths and ripe dust clouds give birth to whole planetary systems. Some light reaches them with its centuries-old fingers and some can’t weather the journey. So many beings shiver and die. Lance would be twenty now. He tries not to think about it.

Often, he resents those years he spent on a space whale, cresting out of his teenage years faster than he could track, trying to staunch the flow of memories with the paladins before he lost them all. He gets double vision looking at his mother, thinking of what he knows about love and struggling to apply it to this stranger.

When Lance disappeared just months after Keith returned to the castle of lions, he understood, finally, that loss is the bitter shrapnel of love.

In an alternate universe, Keith would have threaded Lance’s difficult needle, held his jaw, sharp and slight as a paring knife, and told him every wriggling, guilty, breathless feeling he’s inspired in him since they were sixteen.

In that universe, he stepped out of the time warp and into Lance’s embrace, and they were never parted again.

But that’s not what happened. Instead, Pidge started to refer to Lance in the past tense. Allura took over piloting Blue full-time, and Keith Red. The castle, already barren with the loss of Altea, became even more eerily quiet. Keith’s guilt swelled up and took any of their remaining teamwork hostage.

Space is so massively large and radiantly indifferent, but Lance is out there, surely, or Keith would have felt Voltron’s current being disrupted, as it had been when Shiro blinked out of the Black lion. But time stretched on, and he felt nothing at all.

When Lance disappeared it was from the middle of a battle for a nothing quadrant of space, and he was practically teleported out of the fray. They recovered his lion on a smalltime Galra ship within the hour, no sign of a struggle, no sign of Lance.

It was eery. Impossible. They interrogated sentries and hacked systems, combed entire light years of space using Allura’s wormholes. They waited for a distress signal, an apology, a triumphant return. But he just—vanished.

Keith ripped through the galaxy for any scrap of him, a blue flash, those bright ringlets of laughter, the flush of his skin tone in a kaleidoscope of different species.

Allura and Shiro joined him on the ground at first; Pidge, Coran, and Matt worked tirelessly to devise a tracking system, while Hunk took Red apart, hoping to unlock the moment that she and Lance had detached—but it was like her memory had been wiped clean. All they could feel was the panicked thrum of her loose bond with Lance, Keith more than anyone.

Romelle and Krolia hadn’t known Lance for long, but they always came when called. More bodies in the search party, more hands in the alliance. Once, he caught Romelle’s lip wobbling during a debrief, and he remembered the way that Lance had dragged an extra chair in for her first team meeting, winking, and then laughing himself to stitches when Romelle tried to wink back and couldn’t.

In pieces, Keith understood that he loved Lance, and as always, he was processing an obvious truth too late. His grief was swollen purple, and even as he told himself that no one would ever, ever understand, he knew they did. All around him they did, loudly and at length, hurting at such a frequency that Keith was scared it would drown out Lance’s return.

He left the castle of lions more frequently, turning over whole populations, infiltrating Galra ship after Galra ship, singularly driven—but also callous and unbalanced without his team, participating in more violence in six months than he had in five years of war and survival.

Once, Keith stumbled into Lance’s abandoned room and pulled clothes and trinkets out of his closet, stirring up the smell of him and crying like a child. He picked fights with his mother, because she had been a terrible absence once, too. In the artificial light of castle dawn, he sparred more than his body could sustain, and when he found a planet full of unmarked tombstones in his search, he ripped at the ground with his bare hands until his fingernails tore.

The longer he looked, the more he found that the whole universe was exquisite with death, every piece of it burnt out and drifting into expanding blackness. He was so tired of feeling like space rock himself, fast, deadly, and aimless, waiting to burn up in the atmosphere somewhere. So, heart striving ahead of his body like an eager dog, pockets full of tokens, he wandered Seachmall until he found the flashy booth where he would waste the next eight months of his life.

He leaves the simulated french restaurant that first time fully believing that he’ll never be so weak again, but it’s barely twenty vargas before he’s back, trembling all over.

He finds Lance in a simulation of battle, and in the rush, it’s much easier to forget that he’s a fake.

“Not this time, amigo,” Lance crows, looping around an enemy ship and blasting ice the whole time, showing off. Keith is shocked to find a smile bruising his own face. His hands close over fake-Red’s controls. It’s so strange, not feeling her at all while he’s piloting. It’s as impersonal as a Garrison sim, but eons more advanced, nearly authentic. He can feel the heat of battle through Red’s visor, and as always, his calloused thumbs creak against the wheel when he turns too sharply.

“On your right,” Keith warns.

Lance dodges dutifully. “Thanks!”

I know, Lance groans, in his memory. I’m out here flying too, Keith, this isn’t one of those drills where I’m fucking blindfolded—

“Red Paladin,” Allura’s voice cries, weirdly high and operatic. “The evil lord Zarkon is moving in for the kill. You must help us form Voltron!”

“Yeah, right,” he huffs.

The forming itself is so stupid, obviously programmed by an outside observer who’s never felt the itch of unity, the reverse detonation of an impossible bomb, where every scattered thing fits back together to be whole again.

There’s a silly bit of choreography, and fake-Red goes on rails, like a carnival ride. And then, without feeling anything concrete, Voltron pulls in around him.

“Hooray!” Pidge says, sounding like a munchkin from The Wizard of Oz.

“Nothing can stop us now!” Shiro says, sounding like Shiro.

“Can we get back to putting Zarkon in a second grave now, please?” Keith says.

“Always the fighter, Red,” Lance says. Keith blinks.

“I love you,” he blurts.

“Aw,” Hunk says. “I love you guys too.”

“Lance—“

“Use your sword? Exactly what I was thinking,” Lance says.

“Let’s do it,” Shiro says. “Use your bayard, Red.”

“I know,” Keith snaps.

It’s obvious that the simulation has programmed Red in as shorthand for whatever player is in his spot. It would be the same no matter what lion was chosen, but hearing Lance’s nickname for him out of Shiro’s mouth is just—stunningly wrong.

The world trembles from the impact of a Galra bogey, uncomfortably real, and his instincts press him into action.

He turns his bayard in its slot, and the sword shimmers into reality. He watches at a remove as Voltron slices at Zarkon’s craft.

It’s actually starting to get to him, the memory of this battle, the reality of which was a lot more challenging, and much, much uglier. He remembers his frenetic pulse in his fingertips, the threat pressing endlessly past their defences, the damage to Green’s hull, and the awful discovery of Black’s empty cockpit afterwards.

He shudders.

“End simulation.”

In the dark, the adrenaline eases its panicked hands from his throat. You’re alive, he reminds himself. You survived. So did Shiro. So will Lance.

______

The next day, he goes back again.

He spars with himself, out of curiosity, and then with Shiro and Lance, but the holo-paladins are uninspired, easily blocked, programmed to strut and preen through choreography more than they are to improvise and adapt. Lance doesn’t play dirty even once, and Keith shuts down the simulation again, gutted. He wishes there were different difficulty levels, like the bots in the castle. You could program almost anything into—

He stops, midway back to his cruiser, the braid of market-goers loosening around him.

He taps twice on his communicator, and hastily opens a channel with Pidge.

After the long, peculiar swish of the line connecting, she answers, “‘sup?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Urgently?” she asks, distracted. He can hear the clatter of keys and the beep and whir of her latest project.

“It’s about Lance.”

The clatter stops. She doesn’t speak for long enough that Keith feels truly bad about himself. And then, “well Jesus, Keith. Isn’t it always?”

He breathes out. “How comfortable are you with the holodeck interface?”

“Very,” she says, no hesitation.

“And do you still have those files from a couple of deca-phoebes ago? That user profile thing you tried to instate, the uh—“ he dodges a Seachmallian waving a kebab in his direction.

“Yes, Keith,” Pidge drawls. “What, do you think I burn data when my projects don’t pan out?”

He shrugs, though she can’t see him. “I would.”

“Forgot who I was talking to,” she says flatly. He’s paused at the ice-cold entrance of a shop selling edible soap bubbles, light and iridescent.

“Do you think you could put together a—a simulation, compatible with a more advanced operating system?”

There’s a throb of silence. “What exactly are you asking me to do, here?”

He closes his eyes, still ducked under the awning of the store, feeling the cold move through him. “Don’t make me say it.”

“You want Lance,” she says. “On a fucking USB.”

“I want to find him,” he growls. “Remember when you wanted that too?”

“That’s low,” she says, deadly. “I’m not the one who’s trying to sleep with a hologram of my dead friend so I don’t have to grieve him.”

He cuts off communication. He feels feverish with embarrassment, and completely sick to his stomach. Candy bubbles breeze past him, over the apron of the booth across the way, which is advertising robot fights—both in Seachmallian and blocky common.

He remembers Lance, a lifetime ago, saying, when I go, I want all the stuff in my brain stored in a giant ship.

His comms ding, and he jabs the accept button on his wrist.

“Fuck you,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge says. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says fiercely.

“I know.”

“I just need to know if it was premeditated, if he ever had a safe house or a code in case we got separated, something we could look for.”

“It’s not the worst idea,” Pidge says thoughtfully.

“I know.”

“But I do think it’s a pretty terrible idea for you to do it.”

He grits his teeth, upset in a directionless kind of way. “I can handle it.”

“I know you’re on Seachmall,” Pidge says, “and I already thought that was going to get pretty gnarly. All they’ve got is, like, the mythology of us. Can you imagine what the information in the Altean databases could do to that kind of tactile VR experience?”

“Sort of,” Keith says.

“It would be like if all the OG broadway actors showed up to participate in a high school production of Cats, comprende?”

“No,” Keith says, waspish. “Less.”

“It’s the next step for Altean hologram technology for sure. It would probably revolutionize AI. It’s also not real, Keith.”

“I don’t need it to be real,” Keith snaps. “I need a lead.”

“Well,” Pidge says slowly. “You know I can do it. Can you wait a few quintants?”

He sets his jaw, and against the deep blue horizon, a billboard gleams so brilliantly yellow that for a moment, he thinks it’s the sun.

“As long as it takes.”

______

Keith meets Pidge when she touches down on Seachmall, windswept and gaunt, and although he doesn’t really understand what she intends to do, he dutifully distracts security as she futzes with the control panel.

It’s barely fifteen minutes before she beckons him into the alley adjacent to the simulator room, a sample platter of bolts and wires spread out around her knees.

“Alright chief, it should be compatible, now.” She pulls a stray length of cable from where she’s been holding it between her teeth and pockets it. The little nib of her ponytail bobs as she stands.

“So it’ll be him this time?”

“I mean, almost exactly. I programmed his profile into the grooves set into the existing simulation, but I softened the edges a little so he’s not too self aware. I don’t want him realizing he’s a projection, I’m not that cruel.”

“Right,” Keith says, uncomfortable.

“If you don’t find what you’re looking for and you have to go back in, all you’ve gotta do is punch in this code.” She jabs him in the chest with a folded piece of card, as close to paper as they’ve been able to find out here, and twice as durable. She could have sent him the info, but they both know this transaction is better left under the table. “The system should wipe itself automatically when you’re done. And Keith—“ Her hand flattens on his dark chestplate, and her eyes are troubled. “Please don’t forget why you’re doing this.”

He nods, and puts a gloved hand over hers. “I won’t. I’ll figure this out, and I’ll find him.”

She nods back, a wobbly smile rolling over on her face.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I gotta go. I can’t—I wish I could see him, but.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees sadly.

She smiles again, fleeting, and gathers her kit. “We can’t spare another paladin,” she says, quickly, like it doesn’t matter. “Don’t get lost in there.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but she’s already putting her visor down, and walking out into the crowd.

______

This time, he finds himself on a boardwalk during a powder pink sunset. The air smells blisteringly of salt and roasting meat, and faceless people mill over the beach: parents holding hands with kids, couples sharing shaved ice, a galloping golden retriever in a red bandana.

The leftover scorch of the day blows in off the coast to meet him, like the wave from an open oven door.

He walks purposefully onto the sandbar, craning in circles, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. He feels—pre-heartbroken, caught in the final moments of a long walk to an open casket.

“Where’ve you been?”

He whips around, and Lance is pulling one earbud out, squinting into the sun at him.

“Lance?” he asks, through what feels like a mouth full of marbles.

“Uh-huh,” he says, eyebrow quirked. “The one and only.” He settles back into the shade of his umbrella.

Keith shakes his head to clear it. There’s a red and white striped towel set out next to Lance’s, and he sinks down onto it, overcome. Is this Earth? Did Pidge program this specifically? Is it one of the date settings on the simulator? He can’t remember. He can’t see past the illusion at all.

Lance offers him an earbud. “Come on, Red, will you relax? Pretend you’re not the kind of person who sleeps with a knife under your pillow.” He accepts the bud, numb, and tucks it in his ear. He’s expecting synth pop, but it’s an old R&B song, smoky and familiar. “No overthinking on the beach.”

He can’t stop looking at him. It’s uncanny—the dusky chapped lips, the mole next to his mouth, the cowlick over his ear. His eyes are intelligent, laser-focused on Keith. “Where are we?”

“Dear sweet Keith. Senile at age twenty. So sad.”

“Shut up.” He has to look away, to mask the full-colour magazine spread of conflicted feelings on his face. It all feels a bit like a lucid dream that he shouldn’t jostle too hard. “I’m not used to this.”

Lance’s expression softens. “Hey man, I get it. Being home is weird. Sometimes it’s like—I can’t even remember how we got here.” He shakes his head. “But also I’m so happy to be back, I’m like—screw PTSD.”

His chest aches, badly. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Rich coming from you, Mr. repression,” Lance says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not doing that any more,” Keith says. “I’m working through my shit.”

“How admirable.” His mouth twitches. He produces a Palm Bay from his slouchy little backpack, tossing it from hand to hand as if testing its heft. “I’m drowning my sorrows in coolers, personally.”

And then he lunges, spritzing the can open in Keith’s face.

“Jesus, Lance,” he sputters, smacking it out of his hand. They scuffle, briefly, and that helpless, ebullient laugh blows past him like candy bubbles.

“Your—face—“

“You’re so immature—“

“Easy, cowboy, don’t you remember what team bonding looks like?” He pinches Keith’s cheek teasingly, and Keith grabs his wrist.

A pulse flutters under his fingertips.

He scrambles backwards, clothes dragging against the sand, a stray sandal popping off. The heat and grit is so real. If he focuses hard enough on the smell of meat coming off the boardwalk, his mouth waters. Lance looks at him incredulously.

“What? That’s too far for you? I barely touched you!”

“You touched me,” Keith repeats. He can still feel that pulse, like a second heart in his own body. He stands up, shedding sand, and Lance looks up at him, mild expression tinted with hurt. Keith sways, sidelined by a wave of vertigo. He can’t be here right now. “End—“

“You’re being so weird. Like Kuron all over again.”

He stops. “You think I’m a clone?”

“Obviously not really,” Lance says, getting up on his knees. “But that is the level of weird we’re dealing with here. You’re looking at me like you’re about to cry.”

“It’s just—home.” He gestures awkwardly. “Tandem bikes. Coconut sunscreen. Seagulls eating fries out of the trash. The ocean. Earth reminds me of you.”

"Birds eating garbage reminds you of me?" Lance quirks a skeptical expression at him. “Maybe you are working through some shit.”

He reaches for his abandoned sandal, dusting sticky sand from the straps. “You can’t even imagine.”

“Try me.”

Keith looks across at Lance’s calm, determined face, and the words rise up in him like a groundswell.

“I know I haven’t earned it, and I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I miss how things used to be. And the worse everything gets the more I keep wondering what you would say, or do, and I hate that—god,” he breaks off, and presses his palms briefly to his eyes. “I mean, you would’ve had no way of knowing how I felt. I didn’t even know. But I should’ve—I just thought we would have more time after the war, or I would die and it wouldn’t matter. And I guess I assumed you were always going to be there, because you always were, even when I didn’t want you to be, and now—I don’t know, Lance, I don't know how I’m supposed to go to the castle, or pilot Red, or look at the planet I grew up on without remembering how much you loved it, and how much I love you—“

“Keith, what?” Lance says, alarmed. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Where are you?” he frets.

“I’m here.” He crawls closer, but Keith can't look at him. He watches the fussy waves coming in off the shore instead. “I’m right here.” He rests his hands on Keith’s ankles, and he has to steady himself on Lance’s shoulders when his knees go loose. “Man, I shouldn’t have joked about PTSD. I mean, I feel like this sometimes too.”

Keith looks down into his face. “What?”

“You know, like I’m back there. Like—time doesn’t even exist. Being off-planet was such a bitch sometimes. You feel like you can disappear in all that open space. And sometimes you want to.”

“Lance,” Keith whispers. “You wanted to disappear?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Lance says, serene. “Just for a while. Let someone else defend the universe for a bit, preferably an adult. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t do it!”

“You would have told us,” Keith says, through bloodless lips.

“Sure,” Lance offers.

“No. No. You would’ve said something.”

Lance takes his hands away uncertainly.

“I wouldn’t have done it,” he says flatly. “I’m just telling you that I understand being pissed off, and I understand wanting to—hit pause.”

“What about hitting stop?” Keith asks. “What about disappearing so thoroughly that whole galaxies full of alien technology can’t find you?”

Lance’s face is a spinning wheel; he cycles through all manner of confusion, impatience, and worry before settling on defensiveness. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?”

“If I am, it’s your fault,” Keith snaps. “How could you leave us?”

“How could I leave?” There’s no question now, that this is data from his Lance. His tetchy, self-conscious anger is unmistakeable. “You’re the one who ditched us for the Blades right when we were at a tipping point. You’re the one who wadded two years up and threw them in the trash. You didn’t have to care about us but you absolutely should’ve talked to us. We were a team.”

“You think I don’t care about you?” Keith laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“I’m really laughing,” Lance says sarcastically. “I don’t know what sort of crazy pills you took that made you think that I’m the deserter out of the two of us. I wish I could be that delusional. I may have wanted out once or twice, but I would never, ever leave the people who need me.” He’s fuming, and the wind is blowing through his curls like it’s trying to placate him.

Keith’s anger wobbles. It hurts, to hear Lance talking this way after so long. It’s not the reunion they deserve.

“I know. I know that.”

Lance sits back on Keith’s towel, frowning. He brushes the drained cooler away, and the remnant dribbles out and darkens the sand. “I don’t know why you always have to ruin everything.”

Keith’s throat aches, and he crosses his arms protectively over his chest.

“Me neither.”

Lance glances up, surprised. And then his gaze slides purposefully beyond Keith, considering. After a moment something comes over him, and his whole demeanour changes. “Keith,” he says softly. “Did you say you loved me?”

Keith screws his eyes shut. After a moment he hears Lance moving closer, reaching out, fingertips barely grazing the back of his hand—

“End simulation. Please.”

He crouches in the dark. “Please.”

______

“Oh, fuck you,” Lance crows. He ducks out from under Keith’s staff, and then grabs the end of it, using the momentum to slide through Keith’s wide stance.

He spins around, and Lance is five feet away, holding his own staff up to his eye like a sniper rifle.

“Bang,” he says.

“This is close combat,” Keith reminds him. He throws his weapon like a spear at Lance’s ankle, and he yelps when it makes contact.

“How is that close combat? You javelin wielding motherfucker. You should be disqualified, and jailed for your crimes.”

He watches Lance shake out his foot like it really hurts, testing his weight and pretending to stumble, falling forward—and then whirling around in time to clash staffs with Keith.

“Shit,” Lance laughs, up close, hot with exertion, putting the pressure of his body weight on the cross they’ve made between them. “Thought I had you.”

“Do you want to surrender?”

“Do you want to kiss my ass?” Lance retorts.

Keith steps out of the way, and Lance’s momentum sends him tumbling head-first to the floor.

“Sure,” he says coolly. “Turn over.”

“What the hell,” Lance says, rolling onto his knees, flustered.

“You lost.”

“Yeah, whatever, like six to five.”

“Six to four,” Keith corrects, and offers him his hand. Lance pretends to spit into it, then flops back onto his hands instead.

“If we were duelling with pistols, I would humiliate you. You would have to drop out of Voltron.”

“By that logic, you should be packing your bags right now.”

Lance throws his head back and laughs. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Kogane.”

“Try me.”

Lance shrugs, but just as Keith starts to look away, he throws himself at him. It’s so unexpected that Keith actually goes down, wrists slammed to the mat on either side of his body, wind knocked out of him.

Lance laughs breathlessly, looming messy and sweaty above him. “Wow, that was embarrassing for you. Your arrogance is your downfall.”

“You’re my downfall,” Keith says, a little too flat and sincere across the top, and Lance purses his lips.

“You’re taking this too seriously, dude.” He lets go easily, and rolls out on his back next to him instead. He flexes his wrist in the air above them both, and Keith watches his fingers work. “Why does it feel like it’s been forever since we sparred?”

“It has,” Keith says simply.

“I guess,” Lance yawns. “I can’t even remember the last time.”

His heart is still pounding from the first serious, sustained training he's done in months. When Lance goes to sit up, Keith puts a staying hand on his chest.

“Hey, Lance," he says. Lance hums. "If you got separated from your lion for any reason, would you—what would you do?”

He frowns. “I dunno. Alert you guys. Rescue mish.”

“What if you couldn’t contact us?”

Lance looks sideways at him. “Not loving this thought experiment. Why are you being so weird?”

“Please,” Keith says, taking Lance’s sore wrist, feeling for the artificial thud of his pulse. “Just—answer.”

“Uh. I don’t know, am I captured? Or planet-side?”

Keith swallows. “Planet-side.”

Lance nods, considering. “If the locals are part of the alliance, I would get their intel, and find a way to reach you. If not, I guess I would lie low. Wait for a friendly ship and signal them.”

“That could take years. It might never happen, depending on where you ended up. Like—alien vessels aren’t cruising over Earth very often.”

“Says you,” Lance jokes. “The truth is out there.”

“You could die waiting,” Keith insists, dropping his hand. “What if the atmosphere wasn’t compatible? The flora and fauna? What if your suit was compromised?”

“I would heroically overcome all obstacles, whistle for my trusty lion, and ride off into the cosmos,” he replies sardonically, “what do you want from me?”

“I just think we should have more rescue protocols in place in case something goes south.”

“Right,” Lance says slowly. “Well, I mean—and I’m going to try and get through this without gagging—I have your back, man. And if we get separated, I’m pretty sure you can take care of yourself.” He gestures at their discarded staffs. “Not as well as me, of course,” he sniffs, glancing sidelong at Keith to see if he’s cheered him up.

Keith feels the phantom weight of Lance’s body crushing him to the mat, a window of weakness pried open, broken and entered. He breathes out. “Yeah. You’re too good for that.”

______

He asks Pidge for more scenarios, and more user profiles. For fleshing things out, he tells her. For recreating the circumstances under which Lance was lost, testing his reactions to different situations, and introducing as many variables as possible.

Slowly, inevitably, he starts to lose control of it all.

He’s still a correspondent to the Blade of Marmora, and he’s on call as a paladin, but they haven’t been able to form Voltron in years. He’s perpetually out of sync with the rest of the universe, living more and more like a washed-up casino-goer, existing only for the market stall where he can plug his friends in and relive the past.

He pays off the owner not to ask questions, and gets an apartment on Seachmall, barely the size of a lion cockpit, just a sparse kitchenette and a twin cot. He spends hours in the simulator and crashes on his bare mattress, bathed in the constant, spectacular glow from the street lights.

Every time he staggers away from the market he has to remember that the real Lance is rotting somewhere, and he’s here playing dress up with shadows.

It’s all easier, in the holodeck.

He loads the original paladin line-up into battle, relives their victories and rights their wrongs. He finds himself in the kitchen of the castle of lions, in a ballroom overlooking a fathoms-deep canyon, curled in Lance’s bed so he can finally sleep. He takes his friends to Earth a hundred different ways.

There’s always a fog, a strangeness about them when they think too hard about where they are, but he knows it’s a mercy. He ends each simulation on the verge of spinning out, functionally pulling the trigger on his dearest friends.

Reality sags out of his grip. Pidge and Hunk call sometimes, and often Kolivan or Allura will give him status reports, scattered missions, and lectures that walk the line between morally superior and deeply, uncomfortably worried. When Shiro starts up daily check-ins, he understands that they all know what he’s been doing, lost on Seachmall for so long.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” Shiro asks.

“Yes,” Keith tells him. He’s staring at the empty wall across from his bed, absently sharpening his knife. “I’m just killing time.”

“We really miss you around here. It’s too quiet.”

He tests his blade, rolling his shoulder. “I’m not exactly bringing the party when I’m out there.”

Shiro hums. “I don’t know, you certainly keep things interesting.”

Keith snorts.

“I’m serious!” He can hear the smile in his voice. “There’s only so much quantum mechanics and ancient magic I can take before I want to hit something. I want my sparring partner back.”

They lapse into silence, and Keith traces patterns in the air, enjoying the fine metallic sound of a weapon without a target.

“You know we’re still looking, right?” Shiro asks. Keith stops cutting the air, and puts his knife down on the bed beside him.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Shiro says. “Of course we are. Allura and I are visiting every contact she has, and Hunk and Pidge are working—overtime. We’re picking up a lot of slack here.”

The back of his neck prickles with guilt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shiro sighs. “I’m telling you this because you’re my brother.” But he has his diplomat voice on, which Keith has always hated. “And I don’t know if you’re thinking about what it’s going to do to the rest of us if you don’t come back from this.”

“From a simulator?” he asks, incredulous.

“From grieving,” Shiro corrects. “I would never tell you to stop looking, but I think you know you’re not going to find him in those projections.”

“I could,” he says stiffly. “He tells me things—every day he gives me clues and he doesn’t even know it.”

“He doesn’t tell you anything,” Shiro says gently. “Because it’s not him. Do you remember when Allura had to let go of her father? It was so easy for her precious memories to be corrupted, and even easier to get swept away in the illusion. Everything in a simulator is finite, Keith, but you can’t be. You have to grow, and change, and move on.”

He thinks of every different shade of Lance he’s seen, every secret door that gives and leads to another wing. “You don’t get it.”

“Of course I get it. If Adam—“ he cuts himself off, and his breath shudders over the line. “You’re not the only one to be feeling this loss, or to be struggling.”

“But I never even got to love him," Keith argues. “I never got close enough to put any of these feelings anywhere, and now they’re everywhere. No one ever gives me the chance to love them before they—“ he swallows, and when he goes to speak again he finds there’s nothing else to say.

“I know how hard it’s been for you,” Shiro says sadly. “But Keith, understand—we all love you. No matter where we are or what we’re doing. We don’t have to verbalize it to feel it.”

“Okay,” he says, numb.

“We love you,” he reiterates. “Lance did too.”

“Thanks for checking on me Shiro,” he says, and hangs up.

______

“No way, no way, no way,” Lance crows. “This is slander.”

“It can’t be slander if all of us were there to see it,” Hunk says, but he can’t look at Lance without cracking up.

“You’re remembering wrong,” he says. “She asked me to give a speech.”

“She asked you not to,” Pidge says, rolling her eyes. “Begged you, even.”

“Boo,” Lance laughs. “I was just trying to have a good time at alliance banquet number five zillion.”

They’re clustered on blankets between the yellow lion’s hulking paws, in the soft local vegetation of one of the last planets they liberated as a team. They were buzzed, when this conversation actually happened, but Keith hasn’t been able to replicate that particular feeling through the simulator.

“I don’t know why you always have to lie to these people,” Keith says, just as he did on the actual occasion.

“Embellish,” Lance protests. “I live by the principle that everyone wants to hear the best possible version of the story, and you owe it to them to tell it.”

“But the best version is almost never the real version,” Hunk says, exasperated.

“I dunno man, what’s real anyway?” Pidge says, easing back into the blankets. “Our lives are such a clusterfuck as it is. The line of what’s actually impossible gets farther away every day.”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “What squidge said. Lying is cool.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” Pidge complains.

“What, I’m agreeing with you,” Lance says, grinning. He leans over to give her a big-brotherly hair-pull that she intercepts with a karate chop.

“People deserve to know the truth,” Keith says mechanically, following the script, but then feeling flushed and hypocritical all at once.

“Okay, here’s a truth, universally acknowledged: Keith sucks,” Lance says.

“Hm. Sounds like another lie to me,” Hunk says, and Lance reaches up to steal his headband in retaliation. Hunk rolls his eyes and lets him have it, like he’s appeasing an overactive puppy.

Something skitters in the dark, beyond the dunes of Yellow’s paws.

“Don’t you have a rebuttal, Keith?” Pidge asks, sitting up on her hands.

“Why are you encouraging them?” Hunk groans.

Keith shrugs and stays silent; Lance’s gaze narrows shrewdly.

“You aren’t one of those weepy drunks, are you?”

Keith picks at a loose thread in their shared blanket. “No, I just changed my mind,” he says, veering off-book. “I don’t know why I was acting like it was ridiculous that you like telling stories, when it obviously makes people feel better to believe them.”

“Oh. Well. Glad you came to your senses,” Lance interrupts, overly loud. He always seems to hate it when Keith gets sincere like this. He begs for attention but recoils when he gets too much.

“Most of these alliance parties happen after a long period of unrest. So… what, you helped grieving people by acting like a superhero? To them, you are a superhero. God, I couldn’t stand that you took so much credit for our victories, but I should’ve given you more.”

Lance blinks at him.

He remembers with fire-bright clarity how this scene actually played out, the way Keith kept needling at Lance’s hero complex, accusing him of making things up so he could pretend he’d been helpful. Lance had dialled his bravado to a screaming pitch so he could hide the soft, spoiled look in his eyes where Keith had lodged a cruel sword that he couldn’t pull out.

Now, Lance purses his lips so he doesn’t have to figure out what to do with his expression.

“Huh,” Pidge says, chewing on a pseudo-protein bar from their rations. “That’s some unexpected character growth.”

“Are you… feeling okay?” Hunk asks.

Keith looks miserably down at his own crossed legs until Lance says, “not that I don’t appreciate it, but you did just do kind of an impressive one-eighty.”

He looks up. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

Lance smiles a little, relieved. He waggles the flask they’ve been sharing in his direction. “You just need to drink more.”

“No,” Keith disagrees, shaking his head. “I want to remember this.”

______

He opens his eyes to the world on its side, gritty endless flatlands sprayed out against a hazy auburn sky.

He rolls, putting his arm over his face, a visor against radiant twin suns.

He doesn’t have to look to remember the architecture at his back, a cubist explosion of edges and colours, each shape squared off and set into the hills. When the paladins liberated Imedemaa, they were offered accommodation in homes that corresponded to their lions: terracotta red, cobalt blue, mustard yellow, foliage green, and a brown so dark it could pass as black.

It’s his favourite place to visit: brilliant views, kind people, warm bed, privacy and proximity bumping shoulders comfortably.

Keith rolls again, sitting up. He feels heat-sick, and if it were real, he knows he would be bruised tan in the coast-to-coast sunshine. He’s spread out on the same outdoor palette where he fell asleep nearly three years ago. His apartment is warm, dull red, nearly orange. The shimmering public baths sparkle with activity just below his balcony.

“Yoo-hoo, neighbour.”

Keith squints over the waist-high wall and finds Lance clambering from his own balcony onto Keith’s.

“You’re going to fall to your death.”

“Nah,” Lance says, swinging a leg down over the railing and sitting contemplatively with one foot dangling over empty space and the other brushing the floor. “There’s a pool down there. Worst case scenario I perform an exceptional and history-making canon-ball.”

Keith watches him climb the rest of the way over, staggering and sitting heavily on Keith’s palette next to him.

“Oof,” he says. Lance's skin is dazzling in this climate, dark and freckled like granite. The simulation reminds him that he smelled like lotus, this day, fresh from the baths, warm shoulder and drizzling wet hair. “Are you ready to absolutely blow this popsicle stand?”

“And do what?” Keith asks, a little breathless from proximity.

“Did you seriously forget? It’s racing day!”

“Oh,” Keith says faintly. “Right.” They used to rent speeders for fun sometimes; the whole team participating at first, and then Keith and Lance alone when they surpassed friendly competition into bet-making and sabotage.

They would sneak back whenever they could swing the time off, careening around dusty corners and ramming one another’s speeders into hysterical tailspins. They would sob with laughter and then spritz their canteens all over each other, tussling in the dirt, so coordinated that it was almost an embrace.

The thought of it had driven him out of bed this morning, but he felt sick and shaky as he typed Pidge’s code into the simulator, setting the modified location of Imedemaa and rolling into a memory so fine and warm that it reminded him of death itself.

“Woah. easy, Red,” Lance says, his voice sharp with concern. Keith comes back to himself to realize that he’s angling into a panic attack, holding his own head in his hands. He can’t spoil this memory. Not this one.

“I—I—“ He can’t speak. Lance makes a dismayed noise, his entire demeanour turning inside out.

“Can I hug you, man?”

Keith jerks his head ‘no’. “I—can’t—you—“

Lance gets to his feet, and Keith grabs at him, hooking fingers in a belt loop, a fistful of shirt, whatever his hands find first.

“Hey, shh, it’s cool, I’m just getting you some water.”

Keith shakes his head again. “Don’t leave me.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Lance asks softly, sitting back down. “We don’t have to go racing today.”

Keith huffs this weird cartwheel of a laugh, and scrubs a hand over his eyes and nose.

“I think I dreamed you were dead,” he tells him. He doesn’t look up into his face, but Lance’s chest is steady in front of him, rising and falling evenly with each breath.

“Who, me? I’m fine, Keith, look at me.”

“It felt real.”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t,” Lance says, laughter tucked into his worry like a concealed weapon. Keith looks up at him, and Lance beams under his full attention. He wipes the tears from Keith’s cheeks with his thumbs.

Abruptly, he can’t stand it.

“You’re a hologram,” Keith whispers. Lance’s smile falters.

“What?”

“Do you remember how Pidge took our mental blueprints?”

Lance nods quickly. He’s not brushing Keith off, he’s not slow with disbelief. He’s clear and sharp and his face is increasingly overcast with fear.

“I’m using your data in a simulation. This holiday on Imedemaa, it was years ago. You’re not the real Lance.” It hurts, to admit it, but it’s clear that it hurts Lance much, much more.

“No,” he chokes. “No, I feel real.”

“I know you do,” Keith says, reaching for his hand.

But Lance jerks away, standing and reeling backwards, hands splayed out on red paint, which could be gore, really, bleeding out from Lance’s palms like that. “I was so fucking scared of this.“

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, watching this shade of Lance shaking through self-awareness, and feeling the weight of the words that could end it in his mouth.

“Why—where—“

“He’s gone,” Keith whispers.

“Gone as in gone?”

“Gone as in I can’t find him.”

“So why the fuck are you wasting time on this Black Mirror shit, and not out there looking for me?” he demands.

“I’ve looked everywhere.” The agony of his failure slides home all over again. “The search party is a million strong by now. I’ve talked to a hundred versions of you looking for an answer.”

“A hundred,” Lance says. “So what, when I tell you what you want to hear, you delete me?”

“I’m not wiping the data or anything, I—I don’t know how it works,” he admits.

“Jesus. Jesus Keith, this is fucked up.”

Tears start to well up, and he wipes them away furiously. He never used to cry like this. He never used to feel so constantly ravaged by guilt and fear. It used to live in his gut and press at his throat, but he could keep it wrapped and sealed inside his body.

“I miss you,” Keith tries, and Lance’s face twists with despair.

“I really wish it didn’t take this horror show to make you say that.”

Somewhere, something splashes and someone shrieks with laughter. Lance looks at him miserably, hunched in the shade from the terrace, brow damp with terrified perspiration. He absolutely shouldn’t have told him. He remembers Pidge laughing darkly, I’m not that cruel.

“What do you want me to do,” Keith asks quietly.

“What choice do I have?” Lance asks. “I’m a fucking video game character. I’m a dead man walking.”

“Do you want to do anything? Before I end this session.”

Lance swallows, considering. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

______

They race.

What feels like all day, ripping in circles under arching rocks and through clinging, dragging sand, until the suns are setting, twin flames set into the desert like jewels.

Lance is extra reckless, gorgeous, perched high on his speeder and arched forward to reach the controls. His face, below the goggles, is streaked with mud, and he keeps crying out when he tips over too far or pulls triumphantly ahead of Keith, cathartic, unfiltered.

“One more lap,” he shouts, over the thrum of noise from the speeder.

“I’ll beat your ass,” Keith calls, trying for normalcy, but they’ve both kind of been crying on and off all day, and this is the last thing this Lance will ever do, and really, he’s not that cruel.

“Fucking try,” Lance says, pulling his bandana up over his mouth and taking off.

“Hey!” Keith laughs. “No countdown?”

“I think I deserve a head start,” he calls over his shoulder, but most of his voice is whipped away by the wind.

The speeder rips sideways, sliding over a natural boulder ridge that drops off into nothingness. Strange gravity keeps him on the right side of the cliff, and he hoots with joy, galloping metres and metres ahead as Keith eases through the same turn.

“You’re gonna—“ get yourself killed. He bites his tongue. Lance can’t hear him anyway. He zigzags through natural obstacles, glancing back in disbelief when Keith pulls up behind him. His face is red with the effort of staying upright.

“Can’t you let me win for once,” Lance cries, slamming on the thrusters and stirring up a fog of dust behind him. Keith coughs and dodges, feeling on the very edge of an awareness too big to name, like being able to feel one stage of grief ending and another beginning.

Sometime during Lance’s luxurious lead he’s taken off his helmet, and now the desert wind is whipping his hair straight.

He takes the next corner much too fast, and Keith’s heart is in his throat as he inevitably spins out, in smooth little frictionless circles at first, weightless as a bumper car—and then the rear of the speeder catches on a jutting rock and he’s ejected altogether. He topples out into the sifting dunes, rolling half a dozen times and stopping himself so abruptly that Keith can hear something snap.

He pulls up hard, tumbling off the speeder and throwing his helmet out into the sand, running as best he can to where Lance landed.

When he reaches him he’s cradling a severely broken arm to his chest, and the bone is piercing through the skin. There’s blood everywhere, weeping through his fingers, streaked high on his hairline, staining his shirt and the tawny sand beneath him.

“Would’ve been great if you could have programmed me not to hurt,” Lance wobbles. Stiff upper lip, terribly pale.

“Didn’t know you were going to throw yourself off a speeder.”

“Yeah, well. Me neither.” He hisses as Keith takes his wrist in his hand, unfathomably gentle, turning it this way and that.

“This looks terrible.”

Lance snorts. “Thank you doctor Keith.”

“I don’t think we brought any first aid,” he mutters, frowning, digging through the pack at his hip.

“I don’t need it.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re—“

“Keith.” He looks up at him, smudgy and sweaty and splashed with five kinds of red in the fading light. “I don’t need it.”

Keith trembles, still searching for a bandage or a stopper or an answer of any kind. “No. I hate this.”

Lance smiles grimly. “I don’t love it that much either. But hey, maybe there’s a way to bring me back. This exact version of me. From the ether somewhere. Doesn’t feel quite as permanent as capital D Death.” His eyes narrow. “As long as you don’t lose me, Red.”

“I won’t,” he whispers, parched and grief-torn. “Never again.”

“Okay. Okay.” He makes himself comfortable, stretched out on the sand, arm folded over his chest. “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not—raise me from the dead again? I don’t think—I mean. A hundred versions of me and you haven’t found what you’re looking for.”

“But I have,” Keith says fiercely. “I always find what I’m looking for, because I’m looking for you.”

Lance laughs, coughs, squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s real romantic.”

Keith’s mouth twitches. “I’m glad you think so.”

Lance cracks an eye open. “Just find me the old fashioned way, will you? No more beautiful Lance casualties.”

“I—don’t know if I can promise that,” he says. “I miss you,” he reiterates.

“Yeah. More, I bet, when you’re looking right at me. Ever wonder why that is?”

Keith shakes his head fast.

“Dumbass,” Lance says fondly. “It’s literally always gonna hurt, trying to live in the past. Makes you feel like you don’t have a future.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“That’s a pretty insensitive thing to say to a dying guy.”

Keith laughs wetly. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“When can you be melodramatic if not on your deathbed?”

Keith brushes the sticky hair from Lance’s forehead. He turns his face and Keith’s hand softens and cups his cheek comfortably.

“Pidge can do anything,” Keith tells him. “All your ones and zeroes will be safe somewhere until she can figure out somewhere for you to go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lance says, like he barely heard him. He’s determined, heroic. Fucking heartbreaking. “I hope the real me gives you hell.”

Keith nods jerkily. “He always does.”

“I hope he—I hope he’s good to you, too.”

Keith’s face crumples, and he puts his forehead to Lance’s, feeling him wince when his chest grazes his broken arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” he sniffs, holding his face, wiping the blood and muck and tears back.

“It’s okay,” Lance says, starting to slur. “It’s okay, Red, just end it, quick.”

“You’re the last one,” Keith promises.

“Good,” Lance says, “because you’re not gonna do better than me.”

Keith laughs, putting their foreheads together again, and then kissing the place where a tear has rolled down into his hairline.

“See you soon,” he whispers. Lance leans up, golden, bloody.

Keith shudders, and says “end simulation” into his mouth.

Imedemaa winks out, and his whole world narrows instantly to a pinhead. He’s huddled on the floor over nothing at all, caught in the throws of fantasy, like a sleepwalker. When he licks his lips though, he swears he can still taste salt.

______

He leaves the simulator into the whiz and pop of another Seachmall night. The owner nods at him, looking vaguely troubled, possibly by the amount of time that Keith has been locked in his simulator today, and by the look on his face now, which he can only imagine is ripped in half by loss.

The market is busier than usual, stranger, overfull with alien tourists, so much so that the paladin simulator has accumulated a long line-up.

He sidesteps their stares, slipping soundlessly into the alley, already dialling Pidge on his communicator. She said the system would automatically wipe after each use, but he’s certain she can retrieve whatever information would be inaccessible to the public. She said herself that she doesn’t burn data.

He waits through the suck of the empty line, feeling antsy and keyed up, aching from a day of racing but incongruously clean and dry.

“Come on, Pidge,” he mutters.

Somewhere in the market, there’s a great clamour of voices. Something clatters to the ground, and someone apologizes profusely in common. Keith chews his lip distractedly, waiting for a thief to run by, a sheepish tourist, or scuffling rival business owners.

The line connects and disconnects in quick succession, and Keith kicks a trash disposal chute so hard that it dents.

He frets, thinking of Lance’s final moments, the wilting fear on his face, his mouth split open like fruit.

A hoverbike rounds the corner, and Keith only steps barely out of the way, nearly clipped by a wide fender. It crashes to a stop, making a thin, rumbling sound, and then its rider has whipped all the way around to stare at Keith. Achingly humanoid. Cobalt blue Motorcycle helmet. Rippling with motion even while sitting still.

They swing a leg over the seat of the bike, staggering closer, and Keith knows. He knows when a slender, gloved hand reaches for the visor, and when twin pistols clink and gleam from their holsters. The helmet falls, rolling into the dirt.

“Keith,” Lance breathes.

#vld #klance #voltron #klance fanfic #mine #alcohol mention #injury tw #I promise I'm working on my tfc wips but I took a hiatus to write a 20k voltron fic bc..... i felt... like it #long post #I know this might flop due to it being voltron lmao but hit me up if you want chapter 2!!

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stetervault · 4 years

Note

Hello! Do you do rec lists? Would you be willing rec some Steter fics that aren't the most common/popular ones? If not, no worries!

Technically this isn’t a rec-finding blog lol but I do make rec lists sometimes if someone asks and I have the time and I feel like it. Here are some (I think?) less known Steter fics, oldies that people may have missed or forgotten (Idk how well I succeeded, I just picked a bunch that have significantly less reads/bookmarks than the really big fics):

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

A Lean and Hungry Look by kototyph

The woods aren't the only place you find wolves.

You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

He Is A Villain By The Devil's Law by neglectedtuesday

Stiles’ lungs are burning, blood is pumping through his veins and he’s pretty sure that if he stops running then he’ll just keel over into the gutter. But God does he feel alive. The sirens are wailing, loud and clear. Just one more block. One more block. Stiles ducks down an alleyway, the bag full of bank notes swinging behind him. It hits his side with a dull thud. The alley smells like cat pee and yesterdays trash so Stiles breathes shallowly through his mouth. He continues walking down it until he reaches the end. It opens out onto the street. He stops just shy of the exit, waiting. He waits a bit more. Then he kicks a can lying idle on the ground. He whips out his burner phone, punching in a number.

“Where the fuck are you?” Stiles growls, “Where’s my goddamn getaway car?”

“Change of plans Stilinski, you’re gonna have to get away on your own. Also ditch the phone.”

Fascinated by lemonstiles, migratoryslashfan

Stiles pontificates over Peter's naked body.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

Impress Me by ToAStranger

Their new English teacher has gone missing.

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

Sweeter Than Gingerbread by taylorpotato (Stetallison)

The saying goes that lovers who commit suicide together start their next life as twins. Perhaps that's why Stiles and Ally feel the way they do about each other.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn't trick a person or two?

Deep under by Sashaya

There's a reason Stiles knows so much about drowning. He'd rather not remember why...

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Hold Me Down by sneksonaplane

Waking up in Peter Hale’s bed was weird. Waking up in Peter Hale’s body was even weirder. Stiles had been disoriented and confused when he’d found himself in a plush, king sized bed in an unfamiliar bedroom instead of in his own room (and seriously, why did Peter even need a king sized bed? Why would anyone need a bed that big?) It had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the body he was inhabiting, one that was shorter but more defined than his own, and older, and kind of hot.

The one where Stiles and Peter swap bodies, Peter relives his adolescence, Stiles suffers, and then suffers a little less when he discovers Peter's fetlife profile where he's listed as a submissive seeking a daddy.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

Put My Faith in Something Unknown by Twisted_Mind

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Buy Me a New Pair by Julibean19

"I don't practice law much these days."

"And why is that?" Stiles asked, wondering why a handsome and presumably successful lawyer wouldn't want to continue working.

"I've been drawn away by more pleasurable pursuits," Peter said, lips quirked upward as he spoke.

Tale as Old as Time by wynnebat

The one in which Lydia's got better things to do than be Belle, Stiles is a much more likeable Gaston, and Peter is a beast but not quite beastly.

The clothes make the man by FeelingsDusk

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Spolier alert: just like back then, Stiles gets caught.)

Smile Like You Mean It by NinaRooxx

After sulking about the changing weather over the autumn, Stiles notices that despite the weather getting colder, Peter’s wardrobe isn’t changing at all.

Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

Angels, Devils, and Peter by Triangulum

Everyone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. They give advice, help guide their human through life. They tempt, they listen, they offer help. Everyone has one of each. Everyone except for Stiles.

Stiles and Peter are murder husbands.

love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There's a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

Looking After You by Slayer_of_Destiny

Can Peter be a chance for Stiles, can Stiles be a second chance for Peter? When Peter offers Stiles a relationship will the younger man take the chance with the werewolf?

Maybe We Both Are by lavenderlotion

The first time Stiles lets his fingers brush against Peter he wasn’t expecting the response he got. They were sitting on Stiles bed researching something. Or, they were researching. Now they were just talking. They did that a lot these days, just talked. They also ate together a lot. Or got coffee.

these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

Can You Use Lube For That? by AlreadyBoss

“You think your what is haunted now?” Surely he'd misheard. There was no way-

“My vibrator,” Stiles answered with alarming sincerity.

Well. He hadn't misheard after all.

Pianist Envy by Bunnywest

Stiles is the piano player.Peter can think of other things he'd like to see those hands do.Shame the guy's straight.

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Lord Peter by Therapeutic_Steter

Peter rung out the rag before gently placing it on his mother’s head, reaching over to feel his father’s equally flushed features.

“Such a good boy,” his mother said, patting his arm with what little strength she had remaining. His father smiled softly at him even as his fell unconscious. Peter pushed back the lump in his throat, smiling shakily for his mother before venturing out into the living space.

knit me together by nezstorm

Peter asks Stiles to stay the night after a really awful day.

Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

#teen wolf #steter #rec list #fanfic rec #ask #anonymous

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