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may-day-voice · 3 years

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Mother's Day

w/ Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Fu2ifujKQI4

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1109387237-oneshots-pro-hero-au-172732014-mother%27s-day

IZUKU MIDORIYA | Potluck Brunch

"Do you think that this is too much?"

"I'm sure it's fine."

Midoriya's smile warmed the chilliest of mornings while the cherry blossoms began to drift in the spring breeze. It was a busy start to the day grocery shopping for a surprise brunch he wanted to make for his mother. That did however include having to wake at four in the morning to peruse through the markets for the freshest ingredients.

You yawned loudly while carrying various shopping bags on hand, eyeing Midoriya carrying the more heavier ingredients with him - mostly the meat.

"Still trying to wake up?" Asked Midoriya.

"Just trying to slip back into my old routine," you explained, nuzzling your nose into your scarf. "I used to clean my equipment every two days at the break of dawn."

"You used to clean your guns?"

"Dismantle and put them back together too. I used to time myself."

You spoke casually and nonchalantly about those memories, recalling that competitive feeling to beat your time again and again. However, you heard nothing from Midoriya, finding that he only stared at you quizzically.

"What? I was... bored," you slowly explained, a little embarrassed about the topic.

"That explains your reaction time," pondered Midoriya, his eyes staring upwards in thought. "Constant practice and muscle memory would only make them second nature to you."

"Are you theorizing now?"

"Hehe, maybe a little."

You grimaced and yet smiled at Midoriya, bumping your hip into his playfully. He was still the observant and analytical man, always putting forward his ingenuity over his Quirk.

Soon, the both of you made your way to his old family home in an apartment complex, taking the elevator up before approaching the very familiar front door to his mother's. After a knock or two, the door opened, revealing a short woman whose eyes upon seeing the both of you, smiled happily.

"Izuku," she greeted, receiving a large hug from Midoriya.

"Nice to see you mum," he spoke, pulling away for you to greet her as well.

"So good to see you Inko," you cooed with a gentle hug. "Hope we haven't disturbed you."

"Oh nonsense, what's all this?" She asked, eyeing all of the bags in hand.

"Happy Mother's Day," cheered Midoriya while he lifted the heavier bags in hand. "We're going to treat you with potluck brunch."

"Izuku had this planned over the last week," you explained with another yawn escaping your throat. "Nothing but the best ingredients."

Inko glanced between yourself and Midoriya, along with all of the ingredients on hand in astonishment, before her eyes pricked with tears. You contemplated whether she was growing upset, however she closed in for another hug, sharing it between the both of you.

"You two work so hard. You didn't need to do this," she cried in happiness. Because of her short height, you glanced at Midoriya who was also standing awkwardly from the hug, finding that smile on his face again.

"We wanted to," he comforted while he gently pulled away, allowing Inko to release her sudden hold before he entered the apartment. "We'll take care of the cooking and cleaning."

"Today is meant for you," you reassured her, following Midoriya with a smile. "You don't lift a finger at all."

"As long as Cutie doesn't grill a cake," he teased from within, causing your shoulders to stiffen from the twang of embarrassment.

"Huh?" uttered Inko in confusion.

"Hey! It was only once!"

SHOUTO TODOROKI | Visiting Hours

Entering into the hospital ward still felt like an odd experience. Already having bypassed the reception desk with ease, Todoroki and yourself brought a few gifts for the occasion, including a small bouquet of Autumn Bellflowers.

"Have your brother and sister visited already?" You asked curiously with the resonant sounds of footsteps filling the halls.

"Natsu visited after work, and Fuyumi spent the day with Mum yesterday," bluntly replied Todoroki.

"That's good."

Todoroki eyed a smile on your lips, the both of you walking side by side while he smiled to himself. He cherished these little stares he could steal to see you happy next to him, hoping for you to slowly become more ingrained in his life now that you were engaged.

"What?" You uttered, catching his eye on you.

"Nothing," he replied, still with a warm smile.

Soon, Room 315 was in sight before Todoroki knocked on the door, opening it for you to enter first. You spotted his mother by the window, enjoying the gifts that were brought over the past day until her tired yet calm eyes spotted you by the door.

"Welcome," she greeted, walking up to you with open arms and hugging you. That was unexpected. You quipped in surprise, before she gently released you to turn to her son.

"Hello Mum," cooly greeted Todoroki.

"Please sit," invited Rei, pulling you gently by the arm to seat you by the dining table while Todoroki placed the bouquet of flowers elsewhere. Though the tug of Rei's hands were gentle, it held purpose. You felt it in her grip, in the tiny fingertips while she pulled you into the room.

Something wasn't odd, but it was different.

"How are you both?" She asked with delight.

"Aside from work, we've been doing fine," replied Todoroki.

"Yeah, there's been a hiccup, but nothing that we couldn't handle with some old friends," you added with a smile.

"I've seen the news," started Rei, her eyes dulling a little from her thoughts. "That man that is causing a mess, there's no sign of him?"

You turned to Todoroki, catching his eye once more before he joined the table, calmly holding onto his mother's hands.

"The Commission's got eyes on him. We'll find him soon," he reassured, receiving a calm

smile from his mother. "How are you going, Mum?"

"I've been well. Natsuo brought over some gifts and Fuyumi visited with some delicious treats and meals." Rei's eyes turned to Todoroki, filled with a sadness you had seen time and time before. "Your father came by as well, only for a short while though."

"I see," shortly replied Todoroki.

"Will you be slowly moving back to the estate?" You asked out of the blue, catching Rei off guard. "I mean, there's a place there for you, and maybe it's good to stay close with... family."

"Very soon," replied Rei without hesitation. "It's a shame. I was hoping to see you more often."

"Oh, I mean I don't live far from the hospital so if ever you need anything I'm a phone call away."

A silence befell the room, one that felt odd, like how Rei held your hand not too long ago.

"What?"

"Oh it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I would've thought Shouto would have invited the suggestion to you," explained Rei with that content smile, almost similar to the ones she gave on Todoroki's birthday.

"Love, would you like to move in with me?" Asked Todoroki from beside you without warning and without fail.

A stammer stopped your mouth from forming comprehensible words, taken back by the question. You looked between the two, spotting that content and warm smile on mother and son. Ones that you couldn't object or argue with. This was supposed to be Mother's Day.

"This is the best gift yet," commented Rei, smiling gently at your flabbergasted reaction.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU | Future In-Laws

Both Bakugou and yourself stood by the front door of his old family home, having arranged half a day to visit his mother for Mother's Day. You noticed how blue the sky was, how bright the sun shone, and how calm the Neighbourhood felt.

If only Bakugou was as cheerful.

You eyed him every once in a while, his face unchanging with that scowl etched in his brow. It wasn't his normal, usual, aggravated self. It was more of a-

"What?" He growled, his eyes glancing into yours.

"Nothing," you responded coolly with a smile.

"Don't gloat."

"I'm not."

"If that hag says anything, we're walking back home."

A snort escaped your nostrils, a small one but nonetheless one that continued to bubble into your shoulders. "I love your parents," you commented.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You're here!" Exclaimed Mitsuki, causing a cringe on Bakugou's snarl but a smile from yours.

"Hi Mitsuki!" You chirped, hugging the woman by the door.

"Oh hush, you can call me Mum now."

"Mum?"

"Shut up hag," reacted Bakugou with a snarl. "They're not calling you that."

"I give them my consent, Katsuki. You have no say in the matter," snarked Mitsuki.

The tension was, well, insurmountably tense, standing between two very aggressive individuals in a staring contest. Until you spotted a familiar set of eyes from inside the house, waving meekly despite his tall stature.

"Hi Masaru," you greeted with a wave of your own.

"I see the day has started," he commented while his eyes worriedly observed the growling match his wife and son were dealing with by the door. You only chuckled until-

"Oh, you can call him Dad now, or Pop whichever you prefer," mused Mitsuki with a chirp, with no sign of aggravation on her face or in her voice.

"Honey, they don't have to call me-"

"No, I won't accept it. Our Katsuki has found his one and only, so they're now a part of the family!"

"Will you shut it you old hag?" Interrupted Bakugou again. "They're not calling you that, and they don't want to."

"You're not the voice of reason here, you brat! Even as a man, you're still a child!"

You stuttered at the sudden change and turn of phrase every so often. The thought crossed your mind that you would've been so used to this family dynamic now. But there were some things you hoped you weren't the center of attention for. That was difficult when you were between Bakugou and his mother.

You gently held onto Bakugou's arm, pressing your body against it in hopes to comfort him while you smiled at Mitsuki.

"Why don't we cross that bridge when we cross the threshold?" You suggested. "After all it's your day today and we are happy to spend it with you out of our Hero schedules."

A deep sigh escaped Mitsuki's lips while she smiled back at you. "Of course, I still think that you're now a part of the Bakugou family, so no pressure when you're comfortable with the new names."

"You'll hear it straight from me," you reassured, causing a giggle to erupt from Mitsuki.

"Splendid, come on in." Mitsuki skipped inside the family home, leaving Bakugou and yourself by the door to spot Masaru following after her, mouthing his thanks to you.

You felt Bakugou's aggressive and tense nature wash away while you held onto his arm throughout the small conversation with Mitsuki, tenderly rubbing your hand against his skin before you noticed his stare on you.

"You okay?" You asked with a smile.

"Yeah, no thanks to that hag," he retorted. "But... thanks."

"Always here for you."

You felt his large hand intertwine with yours, fingers pressed together, palms touching. A smirk appeared on Bakugou's lips before he led you into his old family home, a place you had become acquainted with for years, now stepping into it as his fiancé.

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha au #bnha sero #bnha fluff #bnha fanfiction

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

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In the Bond-Chapter 14

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,600

Warnings: Drugging, kidnapping, violence, gore, blood, heavy sexual themes

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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They were standing around the familiar slab of the conference room table, a lull having settled over the group as they finalized the last few details of their plan. Lilah fiddled with the hem of her dress, a deep blue off the shoulder body con that she was assured (by Kate) would fit the bill for what they needed. The heels were not too high that she couldn’t run, the ankle strap keeping them firmly in place. She’d borrowed the clutch that held a switchblade and a few other accouterments that she might need throughout the night.

Seth crossed his arms, his gaze on her, “Are we all on the same page?”

Lilah nodded, looking to Richie and Brasa, who were also nodding. The subterfuge that they’d decided on was a little more complicated than strictly necessary, but it gave the brothers Gecko the opportunity to do what they did best—steal. At least, that was what they hoped.

Brandon Lyle had been maneuvered into place as best as they could manage without actually getting into a room with him. Brasa had bought his debt. Lyle had been offered terms, now they waited to see how he would react.

Lilah had her own thoughts about it, thoughts that she’d voiced several times over. It surprised her how Brasa had sided with both Richie and Seth, the three of them forming a bizarre unit that assured her that the plan would go exactly how they wanted. She found herself outnumbered and out-reasoned over and over in a way that made her jaw clench.

Their mark was an idiot, and too dumb to know he was so stupid. He’d gotten in deep with some pretty big players and thought that his money, or his looks, or his brute force could get him out of it. There was only one way to effectively deal with this kind of person—a con.

It wasn’t even really a con, per se, though Lilah was certainly not one to indulge in semantics when it came to crime. It was just an elaborate distraction that would give both teams the time they needed to perform the real work. Seth and Richie would be on site, in case he brought the book with him. Brasa and Javier would be en route to his father’s house in case it was still in the hermit’s library.

Either way, they were getting that book tonight.

Lilah had been clear that Branden’s father wasn’t going to be harmed in this. He was an eccentric old book collector, an appreciator of the rare and the obscure. He wasn’t responsible for his son’s debt, nor was he responsible for the way in which it would need to be collected. She made no such advocacy for the younger Mr. Lyle.

Seth reached down and grabbed his jacket from where he’d draped it over the nearest chair, shrugging it on and shaking out the fabric, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Don’t forget your comms,” Lilah said, pointing that them, “You guys need to be able to hear while we work.”

Holding up both hands defensively, Seth gave half a smile, “Alright, alright, we’ll put the comms in. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she shot back, “Don’t fuck around. Get in, get the book, get out.”

“Yes, mother,” Richie intoned with humor.

She glared, but said nothing further.

Seth laughed and took a step back, “You coming?”

“Actually,” Brasa cut in, “I have a matter I’d like to discuss with Lilah. It will only take a moment.”

Richie was already moving towards the door, Seth hesitating as he watched Lilah for guidance.

She nodded, waving them off, “Go. I’ll head to the bar in a few minutes. I need to arrive separately, anyways. It’ll be good to have some delay.”

Watching as they both sauntered out, closing the door behind them, Lilah shifted on her heels and turned to look expectantly up at Brasa. He stood not too far away, looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

Lilah grew nervous under those eyes, her shoulders rising up towards her ears. He looked at her a few moments longer, his fingers curling into his palms. Though he wasn’t a man of very many words, his eyes could say a thousand things that left Lilah struggling to interpret. She shifted in her heels, eyes darting away from that penetrating gaze.

When he moved, it was a series of slow, even steps that brought him within a few inches of her. He took her hands, holding them lightly.

“I like this dress,” he murmured.

Lilah felt a warm rush rise beneath her skin at the compliment, “Thanks. I thought it might be a bit much to sell the grift, but I think I’d rather be overdressed.”

“No,” he replied, moving further into her space, “Its not too much.”

She smiled shyly, “Really?”

Brasa nodded, dropping a kiss onto her bare shoulder, following the line of muscle to her neck, beneath her chin, to her lips. He kissed her lightly, with a warm reverence that hinted at feelings she wasn’t quite ready to name.

More kisses followed, soft and sweet. He shifted his grip to pull her into his body by her hips. Lilah draped her arms over his shoulders, letting the slow press of his mouth lull her into comfort. She touched her tongue to his, traced along it, tasting. The hands on her hips squeezed into her flesh, a little moan sounding.

Breathing in, he deepened the kiss, teeth nipping. Lilah gasped when he nicked her skin, sucking on the tiny wound. He gripped her ass, hauling her upwards as he dove in for another searing kiss, a growl sounding from the back of his throat. Lilah held onto him, almost all of her weight held by the strength of his arms.

In a smooth, fluid motion, she was lifted and deposited on the conference table. Her body landed with a muffled thud, her legs dangling over the side. She braced a hand on the wood below as she caught her balance, her free hand digging into his button down to pull him closer.

Lilah was quickly becoming overwhelmed. He was everywhere—his taste, his smell, his body—he overpowered every sense that she had until all she could think was that she needed to get closer, needed to get more. Greedy hands traced hard muscle, her ankles wrapping around his calves as he stepped into the space she’d made for him between her thighs.

The tight hem of her dress, already straining, finally gave up and rolled upwards towards her hips. The fabric cut into her skin, every second of discomfort worth it to have Brasa pressed against her. Nose pressed into her neck, he licked at her skin, teeth scraping. His hands steadied her, kneading her curves, holding inexorably to him.

“Lilah,” he murmured against her mouth, a kind of soft desperation in his tone.

She pulled back a little, catching his eyes and lifting her brows in question. His jaw was slack as he worked to find words, his gaze tracing over the curves of her face. Smiling a little, she cupped his cheeks, kissing him quickly.

When she leaned away, she asked, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

It occurred to her that she could just reach out to him, as she’d done many times, but Lilah’s gut told her that whatever he needed to say needed to be said out loud. She waited.

“Lilah,” he started again, his hands reaching down and gripping beneath her knees. He unwrapped her legs and set them down on the table, fingers pushing on her inner thighs to spread them wide.

She let him keep pressing her open, biting her lip to quell the feeling of being so exposed. He let the weight of his palms rest on the tops of her thighs, his eyes focused on the strip of fabric covering her mound. Lilah squirmed a little, couldn’t keep still when he was looking at her like that.

He said her name again, then, “Let me serve you.”

Staring at him in confusion, Lilah was about to ask what the fuck he meant, but comprehension quickly dawned when he dropped slowly onto his knees. She sucked in a breath as her pushed her dress further up her hips, the leather of his gloves rubbing sensuously over the newly exposed skin.

Brasa looked up at her, his head cocked to the side. Lilah felt her mouth purse as she tried to figure out what he was waiting for when she it suddenly clicked for her that he was asking for her to tell him ‘yes’. Huffing out a soft laugh, she grasped his forearms and nodded.

He looked...fucking delighted. Smiling so wide that she caught sight of his dimples, he leaned over and kissed her knee. He moved to the other side, his lips rubbing over her inner thigh. Here, he slowed, eyes half closed as he nuzzled her. The scratch of his stubble tickling, Lilah stifled another laugh as she carded her fingers in his hair.

Brasa laid a little path of kisses upwards, his thumbs pushing into her hips to tilt them forward. Lilah leaned back onto one hand, relaxing into the direction of his hands—she’d go wherever he wanted to lead in that moment.

With a strong pull, he jerked her closer to the edge. Surprised, Lilah let out a yelp and grabbed at his shoulder, the following laugh cut off when he dove in and licked a hot stripe upwards, his teeth catching. He lifted first one leg, then the other, over his shoulders, moving from side to side with wet, passionate kisses.

Lilah felt like she couldn’t breathe, her body warm and vibrating with anticipation as he made his way up towards her center. His fingers worked beneath the waistband of her panties, tugging them down. As Lilah was lifting her hips to help him get them off her as soon as possible, a knock sounded at the door.

“Lord Brasa,” came the voice that followed.

Her eyes closed, knowing that Javier would wait outside as long as Brasa wanted him to, but more than a little self conscious of him hearing what they were doing. She let out a long breath, disappointed but not surprised at the interruption. Without even looking at her phone, she knew that they were already behind schedule.

Brasa, for his part, didn’t seem to notice. He tugged again on her, eyes turned upwards to cast her a look of frustration. She looked down at the inky black, her breath catching as his hands flexed on her body. They stayed in that moment, suspended, the air sparking in a way that gave her a whole body shiver. He felt it, one side of his mouth quirking up in a self satisfied smirk.

Another knock, another call for his lord.

She smiled, unable to do anything but laugh as Brasa rolled his eyes and stood. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth.

“This’ll be a quick job,” she said as he helped her down, her hands righting the fabric of her dress. “We do stuff like this all the time.”

Brasa took her hand, “You will be careful.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a directive. And, unlike most directives he gave her, Lilah was inclined to obey him. She nodded, smiling as she followed him out to where her car was waiting.

When she made it to the bar, Lilah took some time to get a feel for the room. The place was full of twenty-somethings, the music loud enough that any kind of conversation had to be yelled directly into one’s ear. She sighed, it was exactly as she expected.

Lilah pushed her hair behind her ear, using the motion to double check that her comm was secure. She took an extra moment to lift her toes in her heels, ensuring that they were as fitted to her feet as possible. The last thing she needed was to take a fall in her approach of the mark. He had to think of her as calm, confident—and, most of all, attractive. The set up wouldn’t work if he didn’t like her.

Deep breath.

Lifting her chin, Lilah began her approach. It constantly amazed her how people reacted to confidence, and a determined stride. If they weren’t too drunk to notice, most people got out of her way. The few that tried to catch her attention were quickly dismissed with the coldest look she could muster.

The VIP section wasn’t really so much as section as it was a few tables roped off with a bouncer nearby. Branden Lyle was sitting with several other men, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. He was dressed in a deep navy, a flash of gold around his neck. She managed to keep from rolling her eyes, but channeled her internal disgust into giving the bouncer a hard stare.

To his credit, the man didn’t seem bothered. He had about eight inches of height and a hundred and fifty pounds on her. Lilah had to crane her neck to look at him as she drew near.

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Lyle, please,” she announced genially.

Lilah found that the polite approach was usually the easiest way to get what she wanted when dealing with security. Too often, these guys were threatened, spit on, and pushed around by hot shots trying to get their way. A little civility was almost always unexpected, and almost always welcomed.

“No guests tonight, just business partners,” was his answer.

She gave him a winning smile and opened her clutch, pulling out the business card Richie had drawn up to give her a little more credibility.

“I am a business partner,” she asserted lightly as she handed the card over, “Mr. Lyle owes my bosses a debt. I think he’ll want to discuss terms as soon as possible.”

The bouncer looked at the card and then back at her before motioning for her to wait a moment. Hands folded in front of her, Lilah kept her expression serene as she watched the bouncer interrupt Mr. Lyle’s conversation, showing him the card. When the mark looked at her, she smiled a little, and bounced in her heels.

He laughed.

The little shit laughed. Lilah felt her lips press together as she resisted the urge to glare. Despite his easy dismissal, Brandon Lyle stepped into the first of many traps her team had in store for him tonight. He waved her forward.

Lilah sidled past the other ‘business partners’ as they left the table, her attention as much on the mark as possible. She sat demurely, setting her clutch on the table in front of her and fixing Branden with a friendly look.

He took her in, saying, “Ms. Corbett, I don’t think we’ve met.”

She lifted a shoulder, “We haven’t, but I’ve been told quite a bit about you by Mr. Pickerelle.” Lilah let that sink in, watching as his expression soured, “The good news for you is that you no longer owe him sixty grand. The bad news is that you now owe that money to my employers. They intend to collect tonight.”

Branden reached out and picked up his glass. He brought it halfway to his lips and paused, “If you’re here to threaten me, I can at least offer you a drink to soften the blow.”

Shaking her head, Lilah said, “What I said isn’t news. You were informed of the transfer of your loan two days ago. You were also informed of what my employers want to clear the debt completely.”

“Ah,” Branden replied around a swallow, “The book.”

Lilah echoed the last two words, “Yes.: She leaned forward on a forearm and cast him a coy glance, “Have you brought it, as we asked.”

He ticked his head to the side, “I did.”

This was good. It meant that the night would end early—thank God.

“Excellent. Do you have it here, or…”

Waving a hand towards the back of the room, “I asked the manager to lend me the use of his safe. Its downstairs.”

Trap number two. He’d not only disclosed the location, but he’d put it in the worst possible place to keep it—at least, when someone like Richie was trying to get at it.

We’re on it, came through her ear.

She breathed deeply, making a show of leaning back in her chair, “I think I’ll take that drink, now that you’ve shown good faith.”

The mark had absolutely not done that, but Lilah needed to buy the boys time to get in and get out. She put it at five minutes.

“What’ll you have?”

“Bourbon, rocks,” she answered.

Branden flagged down the bouncer and put in the order.

“While we wait,” Branden said with a curious gaze, “How about you tell me how you got into this line of work.”

Lilah considered the question, considered lying outright. It wasn’t necessary to come up with an elaborate backstory for this grift to work. She just needed enough surface details to convince him that she represented people who now owned his loan (which, technically, she did). He would fill in the other details on his own. Still, she needed to stall, and he looked interested enough.

“Well,” she said, crossing her legs and pretending to recall a memory. “I started out as an assistant at one of those cash advance places—you’re familiar?” When he nodded, she continued, “I showed some...aptitude, and I was invited to join a more lucrative venture.”

Branden lifted his brows, eyes dancing with surprise, “Aptitude?”

She smiled, as if laughing at a shared joke, “Yes, aptitude.”

He smiled along with her, “Would you mind elaborating?”

Lilah’s attention was diverted momentarily by the wait staff arriving with her bourbon. Branden took it from them and handed it to Lilah. She thanked him with a small salute, then took a sip. Like Seth, Branden had terrible taste in liquor. Unlike Seth, he didn’t seem to know it. Fuck, but it tasted like old sweat.

She barely concealed her grimace around a cough, “I’m adaptable. Very helpful in this business.”

Branden acknowledged her assertion with a dip of his head. He lifted his glass, “To adaptability.”

Loathe as she was to take another drink, Lilah gave a toast and sipped lightly. Swallowing was difficult, but she managed it. Glancing down into the glass, she eyed what was left. They’d poured her a healthy shot, a single cube of ice clinking against the sides.

“So,” Branden said, “You have to admit that its not just adaptability that got you where you are.” He leaned forward once more, saying, “You’re also beautiful.”

Her initial reaction was to dry heave, but she held it back. Instead, she gave him a small smile at the compliment, hoping that she wouldn’t have to actually flirt with him in order to hold his attention long enough to get the job done.

Not in the safe. Initiating Plan B.

Lilah felt anger rise up. The man had completely wasted their time. She set her jaw, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re right. Adaptability is not my only skill. I’m also a keen detector of bullshit.”

She stood, and wavered. Blood rushed into her skull, her eyesight blurring. Stomach roiling, Lilah had to brace her weight on the table.

“Clearly not good enough. Mikey?”

Hands gabbed at her, hauling her bodily up and over a massive shoulder. Panicked, Lilah screamed, the sound noted and ignored by the other patrons. Her stomach lurched and her head spun. Lilah had just enough energy to send out a call to Brasa as she was carried out the back door and thrown into the back of a van. Body limp, she could only stare at the streetlights as they passed by at an ever increasing speed.

She came to with a voice yelling in her ear, “Answer me, goddammit!”

Seth. Angry.

Her head hurt, her mouth dry. She swallowed painfully, “I’m here,” she croaked.

“Thanks to whatever god we haven’t met yet,” he sighed. “What happened?”

Lilah’s brain moved like molasses, her thoughts sticking together, “Drugs, I think.”

Everything hurt, her body shaking as she tried to get her bearings, “I’m in a room. Its cold. Fuck, its cold. I’m...tied to a chair. There are no windows.”

She could hear Seth repeating the information, though she didn’t quite understand why. As the seconds passed, her mind began to clear. The headache stubbornly remained, but Lilah blinked away the pain as much as she could. There would be time to feel pain later.

Shoulders moving, she tested the bonds of the rope. Too tight for her to get out of it. At least her legs weren’t tied down. She rocked from side to side. The chair was, unfortunately, pretty sturdy.

“How do we track your comm?” Seth asked.

Lilah sighed, “You got your cell?”

“Yeah.”

This was good, “Open it, code is two, seven, two, seven, two. Tap the ‘find me’ app. Click on my name, it should have my location, on it.”

From the back of her mind, she felt him growl. He pushed and pushed, until she couldn’t ignore the weight of him.

Querida…

“I’m okay,” she said back to him, the words filtering soundlessly. “A little banged up, but okay.”

Can you focus enough to let me through?

Through?

Yes, he urged, If you concentrate on the bond, I can get through to you. Fully. I’ll kill them, bring you back here.

Lilah’s vision swam with the effort of keeping the connection, “No. I can’t concentrate.”

Then, I will be with you shortly.

Lilah had just enough time to feel grateful before the only door of the room swung open and Branden walked in, Mikey strutting in behind. Lilah steeled herself, not sure where this would go.

“I think,” Branden began as he stood in front of her, “That you might work for powerful people, but those people wouldn’t give a shit if I killed you right now.”

Breathe.

“I think,” Lilah replied in a voice that was as stern as she could make it, “That you don’t know how wrong you are.”

He laughed, a high pitched, genuinely amused thing that grated on her very sensitized nerves. Behind him, Mikey also laughed. She sighed and crossed her legs, attempting to project confidence.

“You don’t have much time,” she continued, “I think you had better let me go.”

Branden’s eyes narrowed, though he was still smiling, “I know a bluff when I see one.”

Clearly, he did not.

“No bluff,” she shot back, “You don’t know what’s coming for you.”

Even now she could feel him nearing, even now that heat at the back of her mind was growing hotter and stronger. He was enraged, livid that he had not been there to protect her. She quieted him as best she could, but she knew—she knew. Lilah could not save these men.

“What do you want with the book?”

She shrugged, “I don’t want anything to do with it. I’m just here to acquire it.”

Mr. Lyle cocked his head to the side, “You do. You’ve been asking about it. You’ve been threatening about it.”

She breathed deeply, feeling sweat bead at her temples, “I don’t.”

“Mikey, let’s refresh her memory.”

Grabbing her hair, Mikey pulled her head back so that she was staring at the ceiling, one big hand coming up to cover her mouth and nose. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to bite down.

“How much is it worth?” Mr. Lyle asked, his voice coming from near her left side.

Lilah shook her head, trying to free her face from Mikey’s grasp, her legs uncrossing. Her heels kicked outwards, hoping to gain purchase somewhere. Her chest burned. Lilah was going to pass out, and soon.

“Its expensive, isn’t it?”

She felt tears form at the corner of her eyes. Her body jerked, failing to loosen Mikey’s hold. The lights flickered above her as her vision began to narrow. Sweat ran from her temples down her face and neck. The air in the room compressed over her body, her muscles contracting, knees coming up to her chest protectively.

“Let up.”

Mikey released her and Lilah sucked in air, body crumpling in the seat as she dropped her head down between her legs. She took several large gulps of air, wheezing and coughing. Behind her, Mikey laughed. Lilah hated the sound of it.

Mr. Lyle grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, “What. Is. It?”

“I don’t know,” she coughed out, blinking as she tried to focus her vision. Everything was showing in doubles.

He gave her a hard shake and she felt hair come loose from her scalp, “Liar. Tell me.”

Lilah shook her head, “I’m not lying. I don’t know what it is. I was just asked to get ahold of it.��

Mr. Lyle let go of her hair and Lilah sat back, her hands folded uncomfortably behind her. The collar his shirt was damp. She doubted that he was sadist, at heart. He didn’t really look like he was enjoying this. He did look determined. Determined was worse.

Mikey moved around to her right, standing near enough that he’d be able to swat her down if she moved. She gauged the room. Mr. Lyle was between her and the door. Mikey could very likely snap her neck before she got there. Lilah was well and truly fucked for the moment.

“How much are you being paid for this?”

Lilah hesitated, eyeing Mr. Lyle. Her brain was working at half speed, and she couldn’t get a plan together to distract him. Though she was successful in keeping the panic at a minimum, she couldn’t quite draw upon her mental faculties to keep herself alive.

His hands were cold, bony, rough when they grabbed and held her up to him. Lilah grit her teeth, wondering if she could get her heel off to use as a weapon.

“How much?!” He screamed, and Lilah reflexively shut her eyes, a small sound of fear escaping her tight control.

Branden dropped her, she landed off center on the chair, falling to the floor. Stuttering breaths filled her lungs, a tear dripping down her cheek.

Branden sneered, “Let’s let her think about that for a bit.”

And then they were gone, leaving her curled on the floor. Lilah took a moment to draw on her courage, her wrists working against the rope. She pulled and yanked, until she was able to get her hand through the tiny loop, her skin chafing.

She looked at the binding, unwinding it. It wasn’t quite a weapon, but she’d take it. Struggling to her feet, she made her way to the door and gingerly turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. Another breath and she was easing the door open and peeking out into the hallway.

Brick on both sides and dimly lit. Empty. Careful of the sound of her heels, Lilah eased down the hall. All the doors were locked, except for the one that was open at the end of the hall. From it, she could hear music playing, and voices.

Lilah peered around the corner, cursing to herself when she clocked at least six guys talking around a card table. She only recognized Branden and Mikey. The others might as well be Agent Smith—all vanilla white boy who thought he was tough shit.

Standing in that hallway, Lilah closed her eyes and felt for Brasa, comforted when he responded eagerly, the whole of her body lighting up with heat. He’d find her, as he promised. But, Lilah couldn’t wait around to be rescued. It just wasn’t her style.

Adjusting her grip on the rope, Lilah squared her shoulders and strode out with far more confidence than she felt.

“We got a lock on you,” sounded from her comm, “Brasa took off, might reach you first. You hang tight.”

Lilah was not going to hang tight. She was angry at being cheated out of her goal, and she was even more angry that she’d been duped by some trust fund dickbag in an off the rack suit.

They noticed her, one or two standing as she moved through the room. There was a pull down garage door behind them (closed) and what actually appeared to be an exit to her left (also closed). Lilah ignored Branden’s opening jab about her being ‘wily’ and headed for the door.

Her heels clicked on the cement floor, her stride hard and quick. She didn’t stop when someone yelled, didn’t stop when chair scratched as more stood. What did make her stop was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

Hands raised, the rope dangling, Lilah turned in a slow circle and faced them. Mikey had a handgun aimed at her, his finger on the trigger. Lilah glared at him, then turned her attention to their ringleader.

Branden was smiling as he approached, slowing about ten feet away, “Should have tied you up tighter.”

“Probably wouldn’t have worked,” she quipped.

He sucked his teeth, his smile morphing into something dark and angry. Lilah felt heat roll up her spine, a sharp burn that almost made her drop the rope.

“You have about ten seconds left to live,” she said. “Any last words?”

Branden laughed, “Funny, funny girl. How about I put a bullet in you and see if you have anything to say?”

It seemed he’d read the villain one-liner book, as well. Lilah rolled her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The door behind her jerked off the hinges, air pushing hard enough at her back that she had to take a step forward to keep her balance.

“You’re not going to get that chance,” she rasped, her arms dropping.

A hand touched the small of her back, warm and familiar. Lilah leaned into it.

“Are you alright?” Brasa asked from over her shoulder.

She nodded, “I’m better, now that you’re here.”

Lilah could feel his gratification through the bond—that, and his anger. Fury, really. Hot, unrelenting fury.

Brandan was watching Brasa warily, his eyes looking to the door and back, “Boys? Let’s show ‘em what they’re up against.”

Lilah expected more weapons. She fully expected more posturing and some barbs back and forth. What she didn’t expect was a fucking semi-automatic rifle. Strike that, two semi-automatic rifles.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” she ground out even as she was moving backwards.

Gunfire is a weird thing. Its so loud. Disorienting. Your body moves without thought, jerking away from it, shielding your face. Lilah needn’t have bothered. Brasa moved, snakelike, turning her so that his broad body overtook her entire line of vision.

Bullets hit him. She could feel it. A staccato rhythm of impacts that had him grunting in her ear. He held her tightly, arms locked around her body so that he covered her completely. Face smashed into his chest, Lilah couldn’t do anything as the assault carried on—bullet after bullet.

Finally, when they stopped to reload, his arms fell away and he was turning to look at their assailants, “Out, Lilah.”

When she didn’t move, he turned his head and glanced at her over his shoulder, repeating the order. His eyes were blood red, looking angrily from under his brows. She’d never seen them like that before, and it opened up a dozen questions that this wasn’t the time to ask.

Knowing that she had no hope of actually helping the situation, Lilah ducked out of the room, sliding a little on the gravel as she went. More gunfire sounded, bullets breaking the windows. She covered her head and kept going until she rounded a lifted truck. Kneeling by one of the massive tires, she listened to the screams.

These weren’t screams of fear, not all of them. Lilah knew what a fearful scream sounded like. These were screams of pain. Lilah had seen that Brasa could tear a culebra in half with little to no effort. She didn’t really want to think about what he was doing to the human men who’d taken her captive.

While more guns went off, while the screams increased in volume and frequency, a familiar car came roaring up the drive. Relieved, Lilah stood up a little and waved to them.

Seth barely had the car in park before he was opening the door and heading for her, gun already in his hand. His face was a mask of worry, one arm outstretched to pull her into a hug.

“You’re not supposed to do this shit to us,” he exclaimed angrily.

Lilah rolled her eyes, pulling away enough to see Richie light a cigarette and salute her with it, “Its not like I planned to be drugged and kidnapped.”

The effects of the drug were wearing off—a product of either the low dose or the low quality. Lilah could still feel the fatigue beating at her, somewhat mitigated by the surge of adrenaline.

Seth held her by the arm and looked her over, “They hurt you?”

She shrugged, “Nothing I won’t survive.”

Mouth thin, his attention turned to the warehouse that had gone silent, “Brasa in there?”

She nodded, “Yeah. He, uh, looked pretty pissed off.”

Seth scoffed, “Not our fault that Lyle guy lied to us.”

Lilah gave another shrug and turned to see Brasa in the doorway, leaning heavily against it. He was hurt. Very hurt. She couldn’t even begin to count the number of bullets he’d taken for her, and Lilah knew that he had lost a significant amount of blood.

Feet moving, Lilah went to him, arms going around his waist as he struggled to support his weight. Even through his clothes, Lilah could feel the cold that confirmed what she already knew. He held himself stiffly for a few seconds, eyes squeezed closed, then let his arm fall to her shoulders as he took a step forward.

That step turned into a stumble, which turned into a fall. Lilah couldn’t hope to support him through it, landing hard on her knees, the gravel scraping.

She looked up at her friends, “I need help. He can’t walk.”

Richie flicked the cig away and stepped up to Brasa’s body. He lifted him with a choked off sound of effort and dragged him beneath the arms to the car. Seth reached down and helped Lilah to her feet. She followed Richie to the car, watching as he laid Brasa over the back seat.

“He needs a hospital,” was out of her mouth before her brain could catch up and tell her that the idea was so stupid that she should just shut up and never talk again.

Richie looked at her over his shoulder, “He needs blood. Lots of it, from the look of him.”

Lilah looked to Seth, “There’s blood at the bar. Javier will know what to do.”

Seth watched her face carefully, his eyes narrow, mouth turned down in a frown, then said, “Alright. Get in.”

Without hesitation, Lilah climbed in the back and knelt in the floorboard, reaching down to unclasp her heels. Her knees were bleeding, and her palms were scraped up pretty bad. She’d feel it tomorrow, no doubt.

The doors of the car slammed shut and the engine turned over, she rocked hard into the seat as Seth peeled out of the driveway. Rising up, Lilah touched Brasa’s face, tapping it a few times to rouse him. His shirt was completely soaked in blood, the material sticking to his chest. She unbuttoned it, hands hovering over his skin as wound after wound was revealed.

“I’m getting you a bulletproof vest for Christmas,” she grouched as she peeled up the fabric.

His chest contracted, flinched really, his voice coming out soft and scratchy, “I will heal.”

Lilah was half relieved that he was conscious and half angry that he seemed to have so little regard for his health, “You wouldn’t need to heal if you’d just, I don’t know, dodged the bullets.”

There was a definite sigh, and then, “Its only flesh.”

Incredulous, Lilah leaned over his body, grinding out, “I happen to like it when you’re not bleeding out in the backseat of a car, thank you very much.”

With a small smile, Brasa touched her cheek, “I am much harder to kill than this.”

“You don’t know that,” she said in a small voice, her fear coming through in the tone. “I don’t know that.”

Brasa dropped his hand and traced his fingers over hers where they lay on his still bleeding chest. His gaze was a little glassy, his breath slowing. She could see the remorse in his expression—she could also see that he was going to pass out.

“Hey, hey,” she called out, then to Seth, “How far away are we?”

Seth looked at her in the rearview, “Ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”

Lilah turned her attention back to Brasa, who was barely conscious, “Can you hold out that long?”

When he didn’t answer, she did the only thing she could think of to rouse him. She dug two fingers in to the bullet hole nearest to her. Brasa hissed, his body bowing, an angry growl sounding.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “You need to stay awake.”

Brasa inhaled through his nose, visibly trying to steady himself, “I’m fine, querida.”

“You are not fucking fine,” she almost yelled. “You’re bleeding all over the leather seats, you idiot.”

He gave a strained chuckle, “It was worth it.”

His eyes grew unfocused again and when Lilah dug her fingers into another wound, he didn’t respond. Lilah panicked, pushing off the floor of the car and straddling his body on the seat, trying to shake him awake.

“He’s not responding,” she said to Richie as he turned around to look at what she was doing.

Richie leaned further over, looking down at the sun god beneath her, “I told you. He needs blood.”

Lilah looked at Brasa, “I don’t…”

At a loss for words, Lilah struggled with what she needed to do and keeping some semblance of control in the situation. If he bit her, the venom would render her comatose. She’d already proven that she couldn’t cut herself open. She didn’t know how to heal him without breaking all the rules she’d set up for herself to keep her two lives separate.

“Here,” Richie murmured lowly as he reached for her arm. In his other hand was the switchblade he favored. “I’ll give you a little cut and you just hold it over his mouth. He’ll do the rest.”

Seth lifted a finger, pointing it at Richie, “She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to.” Then, to Lilah, “You don’t have to. We’re almost there. He’ll make it.”

The frigid body beneath her told Lilah that what he’d said might not be the case. She looked down at Brasa, then to Richie, and back.

“A little one,” she said, offering him her arm.

“I’ll be careful,” Richie assured her, his eyes focused on the blade in his hand.

It hurt. The pain of the cut spearing through the adrenaline running through her body. When it was done, Lilah had to stop herself from pulling the wounded limb into her body protectively. One hand on Brasa’s jaw to open his mouth, she held her arm over it and watched carefully as the blood dropped down.

It took far too long for Lilah to see the fluttering behind his lashes, for his throat to begin to swallow down what she gave him. Letting out a breath, she watched as he blinked his eyes open blearily his chin lifting in supplication.

Quick hands had her arm pulled down and his mouth fastened to the wound sucking hard. Lilah let out a yelp as she regained her balance.

“You alright?” Seth asked, his head craned around to see what was happening.

Lilah nodded, “Yeah, just wasn’t prepared for it to work like that.”

Black eyes looked up at her, his hands wrapped securely around her arm. The leather was stretched over his wide palms, torn in a few places from the fight. Lilah held his gaze, too relieved to care that he might leave bruises.

He let out a low moan as the pull of his mouth slowed, his tongue tracing along the wound. Lilah swallowed, pushing down the bloom of arousal at the sound that she only heard when he was either drinking from her or kissing her. In any case, now was not the time.

His eyes closed in pleasure, Brasa continued to drink, though there was none of the initial urgency. He savored every drop, his body growing slowly warmer. Lilah let him do as he wanted, too glad that he was conscious and moving to care how it might sound.

When he looked at her again, there was something playful in his gaze. Confused, Lilah felt her brows draw together. She started to say something when she felt him press his teeth every so softly onto her skin. Eyes wide, she leaned back, fixing him with a stern look that said, ‘don’t’.

His chest shook with restrained laughter even as he let off a bit, returning to the slow pull. Lilah relaxed, checking on the others. Richie was texting. Seth’s attention was on the road.

With one hand, Brasa traced up the path from her knee where it was smushed into the seat to her thigh, his fingers pushing up the hem of her blood spattered dress to grasp her hip. Without letting go of her arm, he shifted up a bit, until she was sitting squarely on his hips.

He was more alert, and the wounds on his chest had stopped bleeding. Lilah guessed that all the blood left in his body was either soaked into the seat or filling the erection on which she now sat. It occurred to her that she would need to tell Kate that she was, indeed, right. Feeding and fucking was the base instinct of both culebras and Xibalbans, even when close to death.

Rolling her eyes at him, Lilah pulled her arm away, ignoring his sound of protest. He tried to sit up, and she pushed him back down. He gave no resistance, probably couldn’t even if he wanted.

“You just lay there until we can get you to Javier,” she ordered.

Brasa lifted a brow, but settled back into the seat, staring up at her sleepily. Her arm tingled a bit, a by product of the venom he may have inadvertently injected. She shook it out, eyeing the cut. It was still bleeding a little, but the trickle was slow, already clotting.

A gloved hand caught her around the wrist, bringing her arm to his mouth. Lilah’s jaw dropped as she watched his tongue snake out and run along the line of blood, circling to catch all of it. Beneath her, his erection pulsed and the hand on her hip flexed to pull her more firmly against it.

Lilah very much wanted to lean down and kiss him in that moment, but she could feel how Seth kept looking back at her. Instead, she reached out into the bond, sending Brasa all the feelings she could, all the want and the relief she felt. The bond broke open with his response, her body lighting up with the images he was sending her.

Brushed with red and oranges, she saw how he wanted to yank down the neckline of her dress so that he could suck on her nipples. How he wanted to reach under her dress and rip the gusset of her panties so that he could push two fingers inside to test her wetness. How he wanted to sink his cock into her and make her ride him hard until they were both spent.

Lilah gasped, her body shuddering as she bit her lip to keep what she was sure would be an obscene sound quiet.

Seth half turned, “You okay?”

She gathered herself quickly, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“We’re pulling in now,” he called back, the lights of the entrance filtering in through the windows.

Brasa let her rise up off him, but his eyes were filled with promises that Lilah was sure he was going to keep—soon. As the car pulled to a stop, she had the door open, waving Javier forward.

Brasa was barely standing, his shirt open and hanging loosely beneath his coat. Lilah watched as Javier spoke to him in what she was now recognizing as Xibalban. When they disappeared into the elevator, she turned to Richie and Seth.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a job to finish.”

Richie eyed her bloodstained dress and bare feet, “Don’t you think we’re done for the night.”

Lilah jabbed a finger at him, “I did not get drugged, kidnapped, and shot at all in one night to not claim the prize. You can do whatever you want, but I’m going.”

Seth was leaning against the hood of the car, hands in his pocket. He eyed her levelly, “You sure you’re good?”

Lilah nodded.

He pushed to stand, rolling his shoulders, “Alright. I’m in. Richie?”

Richie’s smile was nearly feral, “I love it when she’s angry. I’m in!”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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anthonyed · 4 years

Note

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine.

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face.

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her.

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted.

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!”

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot.

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

And another.

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder.

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest.

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?”

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve.

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin.

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it.

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker.

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously.

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him.

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him.

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear.

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat.

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries.

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.”

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness.

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him.

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward.

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week.

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air.

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after.

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.”

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him.

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush.

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes.

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all.

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure.

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before.

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it.

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral.

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and -

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

#*fingers crossed* hope you like it #buckytony #winteriron #mine #prompts #i really enjoyed writing this and it may be vain to say i love this but fuck it idc

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fadefromthelight · 4 years

Text

No. 13 - Oxygen Mask

Summary: No Powers AU. Julian slipped and the water swallowed him up. Who knew drowning hurt this much.

Read on: Ao3

Julian’s arm aches in a way he’s never felt before, deep set and continuous. No matter what he does, pain flares along the jagged burn. The sleeve of his jacket is pressed against it by pure coincidence—he pulled it on without even thinking—and is the closest thing he has to a bandage. But whenever he shifts too quickly it tears from his burns. Blood bubbles up from the wounds, running down his arm and laced with the pain.

Now he sits still, sequestered between a few discarded boxes. He presses his hand against his sleeve, hoping to stop some of the bleeding. The salty smell of the sea settles over him. He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to it. The air holds a thick humidity, fog rolling over the docks. It rests deep within his lungs, shortening his breaths.

He leans back against the wall and pulls out his gun. It along with half a dozen knives and a bag of lock picking equipment are all he has left. Alden stripped him bare and this was what he could find in his haste to escape. Not that it really matters. He has his gun.

The electric blue accents gleam in the muted light from the lamps nearby. It’s not the most practical color but something about it resonated within him. It’s all that he has left of his father uncle.

The quiet sound of footsteps jolts Julian out of his thoughts. He painstakingly drags himself up to a standing position, every moving sending a jolt of pain down his arm. He glances down one end of the alleyway he was camping in. The bright beam of a flashlight cuts across it and he hears the low murmur of voices.

Julian sprints in the other direction just as the light lands on him. “Vineris!” Ian shouts, his voice drawn thin and edged with frustration. “Stop!”

Julian twists around and shakily aims his gun at Ian. He pulls the trigger a few times before ducking around the corner. Ian returns his fire, his own shots echoing through the otherwise silent dock.

Julian runs through rows of stacked storage containers, Ian hot on his heels. He twists around when he can, firing shots and reloading when possible. His burn screams at him, the pain of his jacket ripping away from the skin is torturous. Blood runs down his arm, dripping off his hand and weakening his grip. He holds his arm to his chest as he runs, staining it.

He turns into a deadend, Ian’s steps echoing behind him. Julian’s gaze darts at the wall, trying to find something he can use. He spots a small ladder to the roof and sprints to it. He shoves his gun into its holster and jumps.

His grip slips and he lays hanging on one arm. It takes him a moment to reorient himself and start climbing and that’s all it takes for Ian to run into the alley. The second Ian spots him, he levels his gun at Julian.

Julian heaves himself over the edge of the roof and starts running. Ian abandons his shot in favor of continuing the chase.

Julian jumps between the buildings, the landing sending jolts of burning pain through his arm. He alternates between glancing back and watching his jumps.

Ian has his gun out before him and is firing, dropping the discarded clip in exchange for a new. Julian looks back, seeing the edge of the building and mentally times his jump. He looks around, reaches for his gun and jumps.

Nothing but empty air meets his feet. Julian looks forward to see the inky black ocean under the peeling fog. He has barely a moment to register what happened before he collides with the icy water.

The shock combined with the stinging burn that overcomes his every thought has him draw in a breath. His mouth fills with salty water, burning his throat. He struggles to find the surface, his burned arm hanging limp.

But the pain soon overtakes him and he blacks out.

——

Ian watches with detached interest as Vineris jumps off the ledge into the sea. He couldn’t believe that the man that they’ve spent months, if not years, trying to catch just jumped into the water despite the obvious injuries he sustained. Ian didn’t know where to be appalled or angry.

But when Vineris didn’t surface, the emotions twisting inside of him turned to fear. They could lose their only lead to Golden Dawn. Their only lead to Claire’s killer.

Ian drops his gun and strips off the vest and heavy belt he’s wearing. He runs and jumps into the water.

It’s cold, shockingly so. The salt stings his eyes and it’s almost impossible to see anything below the surface of the water. But Ian draws in a breath and dives deeper.

Between the fractured light coming from the surface and the deep shadows from the depths, he almost misses Vineris. But Ian spots him sinking slowly, clearly unconscious. Ian wraps his arms around him and drags him to the surface.

Alarm runs through Ian when Vineris doesn’t wake after breaking the surface. Ian isn’t even certain if he’s breathing. An indescribable emotion encroaches in him, slowly devouring his every thought. It’s sticky and not quite like anything Ian’s felt before. He pushes it away. He doesn’t have the time to decipher that.

He drags Vineris out of the water, shoving him away from the edge. It takes him a moment after regaining his own breath to release that his own fears were correct. Vineris wasn’t breathing.

Ian crawls over to him and crouches over his chest. He rakes his brain for everything he was taught about CPR. It was the rescue breaths first then a minute of chest compressions. Hopefully by then Ashlyn will have found them and she can call 911.

Ian tilts Vineris’s head back, leaning in close and waiting to see if he starts breathing on his own. When he feels nothing, Ian pinches Vineris’s nose and presses his lips against his.

He gives the breaths, leaning back to start the chest compressions when Vineris starts coughing. Ian leans Vineris to the side, watching as he coughs and vomits water with a mix of blood. Ian holds tight onto him.

Ashlyn runs in, eyes wide and her hand resting on her gun. “Ian, what’s wrong?”

“Call 911.” Ian says, returning his gaze to Vineris. He sits laying on his side, shivering. Blood stains his jacket, a pale muted color from the water. “I’ll explain everything afterwards.”

Ashlyn nods and pulls out her phone, dialing the number and bringing it to her ear. She explains everything to the operator as Ian watcher Vineris. He continues to stare forward blankly, clutching his arm to his chest.

Ashlyn approaches Ian a few moments later, her arms crossed over her chest. “The paramedics will be here in about five minutes.” She looks over to Vineris, something softening in her expression. “Is he alright?”

“He’s breathing and that’s all that matters.” Ian leans over him, reaching into his pockets. “Maybe we can get an ID.”

Vineris flinches away from his touch but does nothing else to stop Ian from pilfering his pockets. Ian finds a wallet and flips it open. A picture of Vineris greets him, with the name Julian Levine written across the top. Ashlyn peers over his shoulder. “Levine? Is that the same Levine as Lucien Levine?”

“I don’t know.” Ian scans the rest of the licence. Julian wasn’t even 23 yet. “Their ages match up. I didn’t even know Lucien had a son.”

Ashlyn frowns. “Neither did I.”

Ian folds up the wallet and returns it to Julian’s pocket. When Julian doesn’t shift, Ian shakes him. “Hey Julian, we can’t have you falling asleep.”

Julian looks over to him, the most he’s moved since Ian’s pulled him out of the water. “What are you going to do, arrest me?”

Ian doesn’t dignify that a response, turning towards the sounds of sirens. Paramedics rush forward, carrying a stretcher between them. One looks over Julian while the other turns to look at Ian. “You gave him CPR?”

Ian nods. “He wasn’t breathing when I pulled him out of the water.”

“Alright, can you give me your guys’ names?” The paramedic asks. The other one checks Julian’s vitals, softly asking him questions.

“I’m Ian Riley and he’s Julian Levine.” Ian says.

Once the paramedic straps Julian into the stretch, the two wheel him over to the ambulance. Ian turns to Ashlyn. “I’m going with him to the hospital, can you finish up the arrest report?”

Ashlyn nods and Ian turns back to the ambulance. He jogs over, watching through the open back as they fix an oxygen mask over his face. When his gaze lands on Ian, something akin to relief flickers over it.

Ian climbs into the ambulance and they take off.

——

Julian awakes surrounded by different monitors in a darkened hospital room and an oxygen canal resting on his face. His burn is bandaged in a thick swaddle of white gauze, blood barely peeking out of it. His thoughts are slow and mushy and he can barely puzzle out why he’s here. Cuffs clatter against the railing of a hospital bed as he moves his arm.

Everything comes back to him in bits and pieces, rushing together to make a semi-comprehensible picture. He was caught.

Well, more accurately he almost drowned and then he was caught.

Julian looks over to the chairs beside him and realizes he’s not as alone as he thought. Ian sits there, leaning over on his hands. His eyes were narrowed and trained on Julian. Julian licked his lips and forced words out through the scratchiness in his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t run away.” Ian says, his voice low and thick with exhaustion. His clothes are stiff with salt. “Knowing you, you’d escape even being bound to a bed.”

Julian looks up to the ceiling, watching the patterns the lights from the various monitors make. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

Wait. Why did he say that?

Ian frowns, confusion resting on the edges of his expression. “You’re a lot more mellow than I thought.”

Julian grins, although it’s shaky and barely plastered on. “You really think I act like that all the time?”

Ian looks away, eyes narrowed. “No.”

The grin melts on Julian’s face and he draws in a breath. It rattles in his rest, his ribs aching. After the silence settles over them, Julian speaks. “You’re the one who saved me, aren’t you?”

Ian lowers his hands, straightening up. “Yes. I did.”

“Why?” Julian tilts his head to look over to Ian.

Ian’s expression molds into something unrecognizable, layered with confusion and the faintest hints of shock if not anything else. “I couldn’t let you die in front of me.”

“Don’t you hate me?” The words fall from Julian’s lips before he can stop them, the question phrased non innocently but the intention far from it.

Ian breathes in, no longer meeting Julian’s eyes. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?” Julian asks again, unable to understand exactly what Ian’s getting at. Out of everyone, Ian should hate him the most.

Ian swallows, leaning on his elbows and threading his fingers before him. “I don’t know.”

#whumptober2020 #no.13 #oxygen mask #OC #writing #tw: blood #tw: burn mention #tw: drowing #tw: near drowning #tw: hospital #tw: police mention

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years

Text

Night of the Living Greeks

Pitch Perfect Horror Week Day 1 - Costumes come to life.

Summary: Chloe has a great idea for a group costume-Greek gods and goddesses. Everything is fine, at least, until the costumes come to life. For Horror Week 2019 Day 1 - Costumes come to life.

Word Count: 7.5k

Rating: T

AO3 and FFN

A little cheat sheet:

Zeus - God of the air, uses lightning bolts as weapons. Ruler of the gods and doesn’t let anyone forget it. Cheats on his wife Hera, like, a lot. Poseidon - God of the seas and water. Controls water. Often is annoyed with Zeus. Feuds with Athena a lot because of a whole thing with Ancient Athens. Hades - God of the underworld. Creepy dude. Generally not one of the 12 Olympians and an outcast. Hera - Goddess of marriage. Queen of the gods. Married to Zeus and knows about his infidelity, which is ironic. Athena - Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. Often takes leadership role. Feuds with Poseidon because of the Athens thing. Artemis - Maiden goddess of the Hunt. Great archer. Apollo - God of poetry, music, and the sun (sort of). Ares - God of war and battle. Tends to be blustering and violent. Aphrodite - Goddess of love. Often meddles in places she isn’t welcome. Demeter - Goddess of agriculture. Her daughter was Persephone. Dionysus - God of wine, parties, theater, and madness/insanity. Often drunk. Hermes - God of trade, messages, and trickery. Hephaestus - God of fire, metalworking, and stone work. Is one of the 12 Olympians, so that’s why he’s on this list, but he isn’t talked about in this fic.

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

It started the way these things always start in books and movies: with a curse, a Halloween party, and a writer who doesn’t otherwise know how to start.

More than that, though, it started with a call from Chloe.

“Do you want to come back to Barden for a Halloween party?”

Aubrey blinked, trying to fend off the whiplash Chloe tended to give her. “Hello to you, too.”

“Yeah, hi,” Chloe said in a rush, and Aubrey could picture her impatient wave. “What do you say? Halloween back here?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in thought, Aubrey rose from the armchair in her lodge and began to pace the floor, glancing out the window to where her camp counselors were coaching the latest Fortune 500 company employees over the tire swings.

“Uh, isn’t it on a week night this year?” Aubrey asked, mentally counting out the few remaining days to Halloween.

Chloe’s sigh made the phone crackle in Aubrey’s ear. “Yeah, but it’s Halloween! You could be a little late to the Lodge the next morning, right? No one would blame you. And you’re the boss, so it’s fine, right?”

“I don’t know…” Aubrey mused slowly. “This is kind of prime time for corporations to rent us out as a horror camp…”

The horror camp had been her idea, and business boomed around Halloween.

“Can’t someone cover for you? Please? Aubrey, it’s been months since you’ve been here.”

Aubrey fought against the smile she could feel threatening to take over. “If by months, you mean three weeks, then—”

“Look, you don’t even need a costume! The Bellas are doing a group one, and I already picked your part out.”

“Do I get to know what the group theme is?”

“It’ll be a surprise,” Chloe said, voice gleeful.

“I… you said on Halloween? As in, Halloween night?” Aubrey asked, pivoting in place as something occurred to her.

“Yeah!”

“Isn’t that the same night as Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon’s usual party?”

“Oh, is it?” The innocence in Chloe’s voice could not have been more falsified.

“Chloe!” Aubrey hissed through the phone, gripping it more tightly than necessary. “You know how those psycho sorority girls get about their annual Halloween party.”

Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon had had a monopoly on Barden Halloween parties for as long as anyone could remember. Which was insane, really, because it was Halloween, but that was Barden tradition; no one else dared to host wild parties that night. If they did, the sorority would find some way to either stop it before it started or shut it down within minutes.

Chloe made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a tsk. “They’ll be fine. Besides, it’s my last year, so, really, we’ll never get this chance again… so…”

Even as Chloe trailed off, Aubrey let her head fall back in defeat. She knew perfectly well that the only reason it was Chloe’s last year is because it was also a certain brunette goblin’s last year, but that didn’t change the fact that Chloe was right and they should live for the moment.

“Fine!” she said, cutting off further begging. “I’ll do it.”

“Awes!” Chloe squealed her victory, loudly enough for Aubrey to jerk the phone from her ear. “It’s going to be amazing, I promise.”

Aubrey hummed. “Still, watch out for the sorority sisters. They’re a bunch of bitches, you know.”

As she spoke, a loud voice yelled from the background on Chloe’s line. Aubrey immediately identified the voice as Amy’s, and needed no further explanation.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Chloe asked once Amy had quieted down.

“I said they’re a bunch of bitches.”

“Oh, for a second I thought you said ‘witches,’” Chloe laughed, but Aubrey’s mood only darkened.

“That too,” she said, returning to her armchair.

Chloe scoffed again. “It’ll be fine! See you on Halloween!”

And without giving Aubrey the chance to argue further, she ended the call.

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

When Aubrey stepped into the Bella house on Halloween, she wasn’t surprised to stumble directly into Bella chaos. Most of the Bellas were in the sitting room, getting dressed in costume and showering her with a chorus of greetings as soon as she walked in the front door. She was positive that some, if not all, of them had skipped classes that day for the celebration. What did surprise her, though, was the costume choice; each of the Bellas seemed to be dressing in…

“Sheets?” Aubrey asked dumbly, staring. “Uh, what exactly—”

“Happy Halloween!” a familiar voice called, and Aubrey turned almost directly into Chloe’s tackle of an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Aubrey returned the hug automatically, trying her best to keep red strands of hair from her mouth; Chloe’s curls seemed much more wild and unruly than usual, and the powerful scent of hairspray that followed half a second later told Aubrey the style was on purpose.

“Happy Halloween!” Aubrey replied as the hug ended and Chloe stepped back. “Um, Chloe, what is all…” Aubrey trailed off, gesturing to the sitting room at large and the flurry of Bellas.

“Costumes!” Chloe chirped, picking up a bundle of the sheet-like garments from the couch and shoving them into Aubrey’s arms. “Here’s yours! We’ve already got everyone figured out, so you’ve got Athena. Not bad, honestly.”

“Oh…” Aubrey said, comprehension dawning slowly as she examined the bundle; what she’d taken to be sheets was actually a Greek-style toga. “Athena? Like, the Greek goddess Athena?”

From across the room, Stacie called out, “She’s doing a theme to piss off the sorority.”

Ignoring the slight flutter of her stomach, Aubrey nodded once. “Ah.”

“That’s not the reason!” Chloe protested, but then almost immediately started to look guilty. “Well… not originally. I was thinking about it already and… well, it’s an added bonus,” she said with a wink.

“Mmm.”

At that moment, Amy extracted herself from the throng of Bellas in the sitting room with a huff, straightening her toga. “Question,” she directed to Chloe, then glanced at Aubrey. “And, yeah, hey, um… Aubrey?”

“Yes?” Aubrey asked, expecting a question.

Instead, the confusion on Amy’s face cleared instantly. “Great, just checking. Aubrey. Got it this time.”

“Uh—”

“I do actually get wine with this, right?” Amy continued, turning back to Chloe. “Because I’m the lord of wine, so I feel like that should be included. For authenticity purposes,” she added, her voice half an octave higher than usual.

Chloe winced delicately. “Dionysus is the god of wine, winemaking, grapes, theater, madness, and—”

Amy’s eyebrows lifted. “Sooooo is there a Chardonnay or something I could—”

“Fridge,” Chloe sighed, waving vaguely toward the kitchen.

“Authenticity, right?” Amy repeated, already making a beeline for the kitchen.

Chloe sighed again, but before she could say anything, Cynthia Rose’s voice called out “Has anyone seen my lightning bolt?”

Aubrey looked to where Cynthia Rose stood in the middle of the sitting room, scanning the floor for something. She wore a toga like everyone else, but was set apart from the others by a gold circlet resting atop her head.

“Lightning bolt?” Aubrey asked slowly. “So she’s…”

Chloe beamed at her, apparently pleased she was catching on. “Oh, yeah, she wanted to be—”

“I’m Zeus,” Cynthia Rose declared loudly. “King of all you aca-bitches.”

Aubrey stared in disbelief until a movement from the corner of her eye startled her and she gasped; what she’d originally taken as a lump of black fabric on the couch rose, and Lilly’s face loomed into view under the dark hood of her costume.

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe said softly, following Aubrey’s gaze. “Lilly’s been pretty into—”

“Chloe, I really don’t think this is my style,” another voice—the complaining tone of which made Aubrey smile in recognition—said, and Aubrey looked past Chloe to see Beca descending the staircase. She was in costume, holding a blue plastic trident that was about as tall as she was, with her hair in braided with blue streaks that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Aubrey instantly knew why Chloe had chosen that particular Greek god for Beca; sure enough, when Aubrey glanced over, Chloe was staring at Beca very unsubtly.

Aubrey cleared her throat.

Chloe jumped back to life. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Poseidon is so you.”

Beca rolled her eyes, reaching the ground floor. “Aubrey,” she deadpanned by way of greeting.

“Beca,” Aubrey replied just as stiffly, not missing the little smile Beca gave her, the only crack in their cold exchange. Aubrey returned it; she was happy to see Beca, too.

Beca looked back at Chloe, her eyebrows drawing together. “Chlo, I don’t even really like water, or swimming, or the ocean, or—”

“But your eyes are so blue,” Chloe interrupted, then looked horrified with herself.

Beca’s mouth opened, then closed. She blinked several times rapidly and muttered, “Have you seen your eyes?”

Chloe’s cheeks reddened, though she looked pleased.

Aubrey shifted in place, pointedly clearing her throat once again. She didn’t know how the other Bellas survived if it was like this all the time, because honestly.

“Oh, uh, um,” Beca stammered, her own blush forming as she seemed to remember Aubrey’s presence. “Who are you gonna be, then? Chloe kind of assigned—”

“She’s Athena,” Chloe interrupted, surveying Aubrey with a kind of satisfaction. “She’s perfect for it.”

“Athena, yep,” Aubrey nodded. “The, um… wisdom goddess?” It had been a while since she’d taken any kind of mythology class.

“Wisdom and battle strategy,” Chloe clarified.

Aubrey wondered why Chloe knew so much about all this.

“Right,” she said. “So who exactly is…everyone?” she asked, gesturing broadly to the sitting room at large, where the rest of the Bellas continued to ready their costumes.

“Totes!” Chloe actually clapped her hands together in excitement. Beside her, Beca gave Aubrey a look of the deepest sympathy. “Ok, Beca is Poseidon, god of the sea. Lilly is Hades, god of the underworld.” Chloe leaned in conspiratorially, and Aubrey mirrored her unconsciously. “Hades isn’t technically one of the twelve Olympians, but it was him or Hephaestus, and she really, really wanted to be Hades. It’s Lilly. And, um, Cynthia Rose is Zeus, god of the skies and technically the one in charge of the rest. Um, then…”

Chloe craned her neck, pointing out more of the individual costumes. “Over there, Jessica—I think that’s Jessica—is Demeter, who is all about agriculture. Then Ashley—or, maybe Jessica—is Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Flo—”

“The hunt?” Aubrey asked, confused. Behind Chloe, Beca just shrugged.

“Think archery and running,” Chloe clarified.

“Gotcha.” That explained Ashely’s cheap fake bow and arrow props.

“So anyway, Flo is Hera, goddess of marriage. And she’s also married to Zeus, even though he cheats on her a lot. Amy, as you know, is Dionysus, Emily is Aries, god of war, and—”

An arm wound itself over Aubrey’s shoulders at the same time a familiar perfume filled her nose. “And I’m Aphrodite, goddess of love,” Stacie said, close enough to Aubrey’s ear that it made her shiver. “So if you need anything love-related, let me know,” she added with a wink before strutting back into the sitting room to join the others.

Aubrey blinked, voice lost somewhere in the depths of her chest. It wasn’t until she felt Beca’s smirk and an unusual warmth in her cheeks that she regained any sort of brain power. With Herculean effort, she managed, “Um, did you say Emily is the god of…”

“War, yeah,” Chloe answered nonchalantly. “She’s actually taking to it really well.”

In the sitting room, Emily waved around a plastic sword, pretending to slice and dice Flo, who was doing a great job of ignoring her.

“Maybe a little too well,” mused Beca, watching her.

Aubrey was about to agree when Amy wandered past, arms full with a bottle of wine and a second bottle of something that looked suspiciously like tequila.

“Amy, that’s not wine,” Chloe said, her tone sharp. “What happened to authenticity, exactly?”

“Umm. Ummmmm.” Amy’s eyes darted between the three of them. “Well, you know. Um, I’m also god of madness, and tequila is basically the same thing?”

Chloe closed her eyes. “Fine.”

Aubrey almost felt bad for her. Almost. “And you are?” she asked, giving Amy the chance to make her escape and bringing Chloe’s mood back up.

“Oh! I’m Apollo,” Chloe smiled. “The god of the sun, music, and poetry.”

Beca’s face twitched, struggling to hold back a smile.

Aubrey nodded, fighting against her own amusement. “I could see that.” The role fit Chloe perfectly. She did a quick mental count, trying to pair each of the Bellas with an Olympian. “But doesn’t that leave—”

“Chloe, what does the messenger god actually do?”

Aubrey’s heart sank at the impassive mask that came over Chloe’s face; Jesse thumped down the stairs, looking fairly ridiculous in his own costume. He was holding a long staff with what looked like little fake snakes winding around it. It reminded Aubrey of something she’d seen on ambulances or associated with doctors, but it wasn’t exactly the same design.

“Deliver messages?�� Beca answered Jesse’s question with a single raised eyebrow.

“Hermes?” Aubrey asked as Jesse reaches them, wrapping his arm around Beca’s waist.

Chloe nodded, not looking entirely pleased as she tore her eyes from Beca’s direction to meet Aubrey’s. “We needed a twelfth, and Beca said Jesse could do it.”

“The Trebles didn’t have their own group costume?”

Jesse shook his head, the standard boyish grin in place. “Guys don’t really do that. Besides, Benji really, really just wanted to be Houdini again, so our hands were tied.”

“Such fragile masculinity,” Beca said sardonically, patting Jesse’s stomach and pulling him closer.

Chloe shifted next to Aubrey.

Jesse puffed out his chest in indignation. “Hey, I wanted a movie theme, but—”

A loud thud echoed against the front door, cutting Jesse off and startling everyone; Aubrey spun, staring at the door with sudden trepidation.

“What was that?” Flo asked.

“Was it a bird again?” Amy muttered.

“Poor little guy,” Emily said softly.

Once again, movement from the corner of her eye caught Aubrey’s attention; she looked over in time to see Lilly pulling out a fork from nowhere. She shuddered.

“I’ll look,” Jesse volunteered, and, taking his arm from around Beca, moved over to the door and glanced through the peephole before opening it slowly.

Around Aubrey, the Bellas had fallen quiet.

Jesse opened the door wider, then made a small sound of surprise.

“What is it?” Chloe asked sharply, her tone suddenly tense.

“Well, uh…” Jesse trailed off and stooped for a moment, reaching for something outside. He picked up whatever it was, rose and closed the door, bringing it inside. Chloe’s breath caught audibly when they realized what it was: a brick with a note tied around it.

“What the…”

“Oh shit, that could’ve taken out a window,” Beca said. “We got lucky.”

“Um, here,” Jesse said, untying the note and handing it to Chloe. “I think it might be for you.”

Eyebrows drawn together, Chloe took the note and unfolded it, her expression darkening as she read what it said.

“What is it?” Aubrey heard herself ask. Around them, the Bellas drew closer, all trying to get a closer look.

As soon as she sees the words—letters cut out of a magazine and pasted on the paper—Aubrey’s stomach dropped.

Chloe read the message out loud, her voice tight. “‘You should have moved your party. Now you’ll feel our curse.’”

It was signed “Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon.”

Amy spoke first. “Why do people keep signing hate mail they write with magazine letters?”

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

“Okay, you can look,” Aubrey said, examining her reflection in Chloe’s floor-length mirror.

Behind her, Chloe opened her eyes, the mirror displaying her every reaction. “Aubrey!” she said happily, entire face lighting up. “You make a great Athena!

Aubrey readjusted her toga for maybe the eleventh time even as she double-checked her braids. “I don’t think Athena was blonde, but it’ll work.”

Chloe shrugged with indifference. “None of us really fit the profile of Ancient Greek gods and goddesses, so it’ll be fine.”

Before she could stop herself, Aubrey fired back, “Well, none of us except for Beca’s eyes, right?”

In response, Chloe gave a wry smile. “Stacie seems to have missed you,” she said, and Aubrey pursed her lips.

“Are you really okay with Jesse being here?” she asked. It was a deflection, and they both knew it, but it worked.

Chloe’s smile faded and sunlight seemed to leave the room. “It’s... fine,” she sighed. “We did need twelve, so, I guess.”

A twinge of sympathy shot through Aubrey’s chest. “The numbers work out, so focus on that. Strategy for the overall plan, right? Great group costumes? Make the sorority mad?”

“Right,” Chloe said, seeming to steel herself. “It’s fine. And forget the sorority, they’re not my priority.”

“Even though they’re throwing bricks at the house?”

“A cheap scare tactic. It won’t work.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Chloe said firmly, setting her shoulders. “Now, where did I put your owl? Some guests should be getting here soon, we should be totally ready.”

As soon as the stuffed owl Chloe had bought Aubrey as a prop—”Owls are the most famous symbol of wisdom! You have to have one!”—was located and secured safely in Aubrey’s arms, Chloe declared her party-ready.

“Okay, now all we have to do is go downstairs and—”

A huge boom sounded from the floor below, shaking the house and making Aubrey stumble. Screams followed, tearing through her like a knife; she met Chloe’s eyes, which were filled with alarm that Aubrey was sure was mirrored in her own.

Without a word, they seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Chloe strode to her door and flung it open, and they raced down the steps to find the source of the noise.

They stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring into the sitting room where the rest of the Bellas were gathered. Every one of them stood staring at a blackened, slightly smoldering spot on one of the walls. The air around Aubrey felt dry, crackling almost, and the room smelled like ozone.

“What happened?” Chloe gasped into the stunned silence.

Aubrey did a quick survey of the Bellas, doing a headcount: Stacie and Cynthia Rose were inspecting the wall, Amy had opened the bottle of wine and was drinking directly from it, Flo was glaring at something but looked unhurt, Ashley and Jessica were accounted for (though for some reason Jessica was holding what looked like a container of oats with Stacie’s name written in Sharpie on the outside and Ashley held a real bow and set of arrows).

Aubrey did a double-take, certain that Ashley’s Artemis weapons had been fake earlier.

“What in the world—”

“It’s a curse!” Emily burst out suddenly, hands balled into fists at her side. “The sorority put a curse on us!”

“Curses aren’t real,” Aubrey said slowly, shocked at Emily’s uncharacteristic anger.

“Yeah, that’s crazy, right?” Beca’s voice floated in from the kitchen, where she stood leaning against the sink and sipping from a plastic cup of water. “Just, like, chill.”

“Then what just happened with my lightning?” Cynthia Rose asked loudly, gesturing to the wall.

“Your… what?” Chloe asked slowly, expression filled with confusion.

“My lighting!” Cynthia Rose repeated, becoming agitated. “It got all hot and sizzly and then blew into that wall!”

“I… but wasn’t it just tin foil?”

“I thought so, but it was—it was like it became real!” Cynthia Rose exclaimed, and Stacie nodded.

“It’s true,” she said. “It started glowing, and it… well. You can see the wall.”

Flo stepped closer to Cynthia Rose, her eyes flicking between her and Stacie in what Aubrey would guess was suspicion.

“But that’s not possible…” Chloe said quietly, looking more confused than ever.

A chill ran down Aubrey’s spine and she shivered, instinctively glancing to the corners of the room. There, the cloud of darkness that was Lilly in her Hades costume was creepier than ever, seeming to emanate a strange chill. Aubrey noticed that the rest of the Bellas seemed to be giving her a wide berth, as if they also sensed something off.

Aubrey dragged her attention back to the char mark—lightning strike?—on the wall, only for her stomach to flip and roll when she met Stacie’s eyes.

Stacie was positively staring, gazing at Aubrey as though she was trying to memorize her.

“Um, what—”

A loud screech echoed around Aubrey’s mind, scaring her half to death. The stuffed owl in her arms suddenly became much heavier and started to shift. Aubrey wondered if she was about to drop it, until, with another shifting weight, a live owl threw itself from her with another angry screech as it unfurled its wings and started to fly around the sitting room.

Several of the Bellas started screaming again, ducking and covering their heads. Emily started jumping up and down, waving her hands as if trying to catch the owl as it flew madly around them. Aubrey pulled Chloe out of the way as the owl circled back, confused in the confined space. Through the chaos, Aubrey glimpsed Ashley nocking an arrow into her bow and pulling the string back to fire—

The sound of shattering glass filled the room, and cool air rushed in from outside through the newly broken window. The owl immediately changed its flight path and made for the escape route that Ashley had created with her fired arrow. Within another second, the owl made its exit, soaring through the broken window pane with ease and off into the evening sky.

Silence fell.

Aubrey stared uncomprehendingly at her empty hands, brain refusing to connect the stuffed owl—a toy—Chloe had given her with the live owl that had just flown out the window.

“How…”

“You saw that, right?” Cynthia Rose asked sharply. “You all saw that?”

“Yeah, I… and the lightning…” Jessica murmured.

Chloe stared at nothing.

A horrible idea struck Aubrey then, one that sent her stomach rolling yet again with molten anxiety. “Beca,” she started, “do you want to go surfing?”

“I’d love to!” Beca answered immediately, then paused. “Um,” she frowned. “I’ve never been surfing, but that sounds awesome.”

Aubrey took one deep breath, then another. “I think… I think we are becoming our costumes. Like our costumes are coming to life.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped around to meet hers. “Costumes don’t do that! Curses are not real, okay? It’s ridiculous.”

Aubrey hesitated. “You do realize that was a haiku, right? Poetry god?”

Chloe blinked in shock, the reality of the situation apparently hitting her.

“Listen,” Emily said angrily, beginning to pace, “if it is this stupid curse, let’s just go to the sorority house and beat a solution out of them!”

“Woah, there, we need to think, we need to plan—”

Stacie interrupted, plopping herself down on the couch, “Yeah, why fight when we can love?”

Jessica shook the container of Stacie’s oats in her hands, the sound getting everyone’s attention. “All this negative energy is clouding the atmosphere,” she scolded. “We should really have more air-cleansing plants in this room, guys.”

“Focus!” Aubrey exclaimed, hands flying to her temples.

“You’re so shrill, Aubrey,” Amy protested, emerging from the kitchen with a bunch of grapes. Aubrey hadn’t seen her leave the sitting room. “It’s giving me a headache.”

Beca made a disapproving noise. “Yeah, okay, while you guys do whatever, I think I’m gonna go for a swim.”

Aubrey rounded on Chloe, desperate for someone to have sense. “We have to cancel the party.”

“What? Noooooo,” Amy drew out, alternating taking sips of wine with popping grapes into her mouth.

Chloe held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Aubrey, I know it looks bad, but let’s not jump the gun. I think, you know, it could still be really fun.”

“Are you insane?” Aubrey argued, stunned at the reaction. “Chloe, if more people come in more costumes, they might turn into their costumes, too! Do we really need actual werewolves and—and real slutty nurses running around?”

“Yes,” Stacie and Cynthia Rose said simultaneously.

Flo snorted in annoyance. “For someone who is supposedly married to the goddess of marriage—”

“The costumes could be worse, right?” Ashley said. “At least none of us were in hideous monster masks or anything.”

“Well, Legacy still turned out looking like—” Amy began meanly, but Aubrey had heard enough.

“We need to cancel the party, Chloe,” Aubrey insisted again, more firmly.

Ashley plucked aimlessly at her bowstring, making it vibrate. “They’re picking us off like this. If we have more people here, who knows what might happen.”

Chloe hesitated, but eventually gave a single, glum looking nod that seemed to darken the entire house.

“I’ll make the calls!” Jesse volunteered, jumping up from the couch and surprising Aubrey. She’d forgotten he was even there, quiet has he had been. “Guest list?” he asked Chloe.

“Eager beaver.” Beca muttered darkly from the kitchen, but Jesse didn’t seem to hear.

Stacie and Flo watched the interaction closely, their eyes flicking between Jesse and Beca as if they were engaged in a tennis match.

“Here, just use the list in my phone,” Chloe agreed, unlocking it and handing it over. “And, Jesse, don’t go anywhere alone!” she added abruptly.

“I’ll go with,” Jessica volunteered, moving to stand beside Jesse. “I need to do a pantry check for cereal anyway.”

Another silence fell as everyone stared at her.

Beca took a sip of water.

“Okay, so, how do we fix this?” Ashley eventually asked, breaking the spell as Jesse and Jessica went into the kitchen together. The question was directed at Aubrey, but before she could say anything, Cynthia Rose cleared her throat.

“Woah woah, why are you asking her?” she asked indignantly. “I’m the ruler of this whole thing.”

“Calm down, Zappy,” Beca said sharply. “Though, yeah, I really don’t like Aubrey being in charge right now either.”

“What?” Aubrey gaped. “Beca, Athena is the goddess of strategy. It makes sense for me to plan.”

“More like the god of talking too much,” Beca quipped.

Even as Aubrey tried to contain her sudden annoyance, Stacie half-rose from the couch and glared at Beca. “Hey, just because you and Chloe aren’t—”

“Why don’t we just… go with the flow?” Beca interrupted, her eyes flicking quickly in Chloe’s direction and then away again.

“Flowing wine, what?” Amy perked up immediately.

Emily growled in frustration, running a hand through her hair. “Why can’t we just storm in there and start punching?”

“We don’t even know if we have powers!” Aubrey protested. “Don’t you see, we have no idea what we can even—”

A weird rushing noise filled her ears, and the next thing she knew, she was somehow absolutely drenched with water that had seemed to come out of nowhere. She sputtered, disoriented and gasping.

“Looks like we do have powers,” Beca said, and Aubrey whirled to see her smirk.

Anger coiled in Aubrey’s chest, though she knew she was being unreasonable. “Beca, I swear—”

“Don’t fight!” Chloe said quickly. “It’s only making it worse! We need to work together to break the curse.”

Beca’s eyes flicked in her direction and her expression softened. “Fine,” she muttered and, with a wave of her hand in Aubrey’s direction, Aubrey was miraculously completely dry again.

“Okay,” she managed, attempting to control her impatience. “So it seems like we have powers, but what about the physical form? I mean—okay, Emily, you might want to punch people but I bet you’re limited by your body.”

“What?” Emily looked at her blankly.

“Try doing something strong,” Aubrey suggested. “See what happens.”

“Alright then,” Emily said grimly, and strode toward the nearest wall, fist raised and ready to punch it.

“Woah there!” Flo said quickly, and together she and Cynthia Rose were able to haul Emily back from the wall. “We don’t need any more wall damage! We need the security deposit when we move out.”

“But—”

“I meant, like, lift something heavy,” Aubrey said quickly, diffusing the situation.

“Oh. Um, sure.” Emily strode over to the couch that Stacie still sprawled on. She kneeled down, slid her hands under it and tried to lift it; nothing happened besides a fair amount of strain and mumbled curses, and a moment later, Emily stopped trying with a huff. “Stupid couch.”

“That’s what I thought,” Aubrey murmured, a grim determination filling her. “We can’t rely on strength because we’re still us with our regular bodies. We need wits.”

“And our powers,” Beca mumbled audibly. “Just saying.”

“We don’t all have magic water-bending,” Flo snapped.

“Yeah, I really think we should get to know the sorority girls before attacking,” Stacie suggested. “If we know how they love, we can take them down.”

Cynthia Rose wiggled her eyebrows. “I like that plan.”

Flo scoffed angrily, but before she could start yelling, a paper airplane soared through the air and knocked directly into Chloe’s temple.

“Ouch! What’s this? Were you trying to miss?” she asked, holding up the paper airplane and glaring in the direction it came from.

“Nope,” Jesse said, returning from the kitchen with Jessica, who now carries Amy’s Shredded Wheat along with Stacie’s oats. “It’s a message, letting you know that everyone on your list has been texted or called, and the party is officially off.”

“Miss anything?” Jessica asked, returning to her place next to Ashley, who laughed a little.

“Nope,” she said, “just the usual fighting. Kind of like there are only three main characters here.”

“Great.”

“Right!” Aubrey jumped in, clasping her hands together as she tried to think of a plan. “Okay, what we’re gonna do is, um… think Trojan Horse?” she asked the room.

Stacie leaned forward, interested: “I haven’t tried that variety before, is it any good?”

Aubrey cringed. “Ignoring that. So, basically, we—”

Amy raised her hand. “By saying ‘ignoring that,’ you’re not really ignoring it, are you?”

“Basically,” Aubrey plowed on, very intentionally avoiding eye contact with Stacie or Chloe. “We make it look like we’re sending them a peace offering, maybe, like—”

“Doves in a box?” Flo suggested.

“Um, something like that,” Aubrey replied. “I was thinking more—”

“Wine box,” Amy said.

“Mailbox,” Jesse added.

“We can think about that later!” Aubrey cut them off, feeling a headache starting to form behind her eyes. “The point is, we set up a gift of some kind and then infiltrate the sorority house.”

“And then we pulverize them! Yes!” Emily cheered, pounding a fist into her palm. “Excellent.”

Aubrey tried to backtrack. “Or we just have a diplomatic meeting—”

“I want to add to my collection,” Lilly rasped from the corner, making nearly everyone jump. Jessica, who was closest to her, moved several inches away.

“You guys,” Chloe cut in abruptly. “Beca’s missing! Do you think she and Jesse are—”

“I’m right here!” Jesse said, and for some reason, Stacie and Flo glared at him venomously.

“Unfortunately,” Stacie mumbled.

Jesse tilted his head, “What? Didn’t catch that.”

Without missing a beat, Stacie answered, “She can’t find Beca.”

Aubrey glanced to where Beca had been leaning against the counter. Her empty cup was set down, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe the sorority got her?” Cynthia Rose suggested fearfully.

The room seemed to darken.

Ashley stepped forward, shouldering her bow. “No, they didn’t. I’d have noticed if they were after her.”

Aubrey stared at her, confused.

“Um, hunting, remember?” Ashley said. “I know these things.”

“Oooo-kay,” Emily said, drawing out the vowel.

“She’s probably swimming,” Amy slurred from the couch. The bottle of wine next to her was empty, and she’d started on the tequila.

“What?” Aubrey asked, confused.

“Well she said she wanted to go about five times. You guys suck at listening,” Amy pointed out. “She’s probably just in the Treble Pool.”

Some of the light returned to the room, renewing Aubrey’s hope. “I bet she went to swim on a whim!” Chloe exclaimed happily.

Aubrey straightened her spine. “We have to go get her and tell her about the plan. You guys do agree to the plan?”

Emily winced. “Well—”

Flo waved her off. “Yes, already, goddess of strategy, stop asking. Let’s go.”

Aubrey led the march out of the Bella house and across the yard, aiming for the bushes that separated their house from the Treble’s. She could hear the heavy bass from the sorority party just down the block, and was certain that if she looked in that direction, she’d see the glow of the party lights hanging above the house like a fog.

Stacie walked next to her, staying closer than probably necessary. Aubrey didn’t mind, though, not when Stacie’s Aphrodite powers somehow made Stacie’s presence even warmer and more welcoming than usual.

“You know,” Stacie said quietly, “I’m not sure why the sorority girls even care if we had a Halloween party. We have different friends anyway, so it isn’t like we’d steal their guests.”

It wasn’t what Aubrey was expecting her to say, and she tried to hide her disappointment while she started picking her way through the bushes separating the properties.

“No idea,” she said. “Maybe just a pride thing.”

Stacie hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything else.

When they’d finally pushed through the foliage and spilled out into the Treble yard, Aubrey caught sight of Beca immediately. She was floating on her back in the pool, fully clothed, as currents pushed her along slowly in some sort of lazy river that Aubrey was sure had to be of Beca’s own design.

“Oh hey, guys, jump in,” Beca said, picking up her head to look at the group. “I bet I can make a wave pool.”

“Do you know how bad pool chlorine is for local plants?” Jessica asked.

Aubrey clicked her tongue impatiently. “Beca, get out of the water.”

“What for, brainiac?”

Cynthia Rose leaned in. “How about you get out of the pool before I electrocute it with lightning?”

Beca raised an eyebrow. “Would you do that?”

“I can try.”

“Neat,” Beca said, sounding bored, but the currents carried her to the edge of the pool. She sat up, resting on top of the water rather than sinking in, and stepped out casually. Her clothes and hair remained perfectly dry. “This water thing is so cool,” she grinned. “Why exactly do you want to change back?”

“Because Emily wants to murder people, Lilly is scarier than usual, Jessica has pack-bonded with whole grain, and Chloe can’t stop rhyming,” Aubrey reeled off.

“I can stop!...Pop,” Chloe said sadly.

Beca pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I assume you aca-nerds came up with a plan?”

Amy swayed on the spot. “We’re gonna Trojan Horse it. Classy stuff,” she slurred, hiccupping.

Beca stared. “You’re kidding,” she deadpanned.

A paper plane cut through the air, hitting Beca directly on the forehead. Growling, she unfolded it and read out loud, “‘Nope. Trojan Horse.’ Really?” she glared at Jesse. “You had to send this?”

Jesse winced. “Message received,” he said sadly.

“Listen, Aubrey,” Beca began, her tone tight and controlled. “Trojan Horse worked back then, but it’s tired.”

Aubrey shook her head. “No. It’s the best strategy.”

“That strategy isn’t even from this millennium! Can’t we come up with something new and original?”

Chloe ran a hand through her hair. “Aubrey, maybe Beca’s right. There might be a better way to fight,” she suggested.

“Yeah, like using our fists!” Emily said.

“Or our powers,” Cynthia Rose cut in, sounding impatient. “I could try feeding them rocks or something. Or blasting them with more lightning.”

“I can summon an army from the dead,” Lilly murmured.

“I can set booby-traps?” Jesse suggested.

“I can make them drunk,” Amy said, stumbling over nothing and nearly toppling into the pool.

Aubrey lifted her hands, cutting them all off. “Woah, okay, hang on, let me think,” she said. “I can come up with something.”

The seconds dragged by as Aubrey struggled to come up with any alternative plan. Her mind felt cluttered, filled with too many potential plans and strategies, and her thoughts raced around and around, until they became more like the owl flying aimlessly inside the house than like anything remotely resembling a plan.

While she struggled to think of anything, Ashley fired an arrow through a birdhouse, using it as target practice.

After a long moment during which Aubrey had come up with nothing better than their current options, Chloe stepped forward and brushed her fingers lightly along Aubrey’s arm. “You know, Aubrey,” she said quietly, “part of being wise is knowing when to use your team. And if I don’t stop rhyming, I’m going to scream.”

Aubrey took a deep breath, expelling it through her nose slowly. “Alright. Let’s do this. Bellas, huddle! And Beca?”

“Yeah?”

“Get in here. Let’s plan.”

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

“Just so you know, Jesse and Beca aren’t meant for marriage.”

Aubrey almost fell from her perch in the tree.

“What?”

“It’s true,” Stacie echoed Flo’s sentiments with authority. “No chemistry there. Make your move, Ginger,” she said, glancing up at Chloe, who was on a higher branch concealed in the tree.

“I have no idea what you mean, jelly bean,” Chloe insisted with as much dignity as she could muster. Which was not much.

“I can’t wait until her curse wears off, good lord,” Jessica muttered, snacking on the Shredded Wheat.

“I know these things,” Flo said imperiously, twisting around on her own branch to look at Chloe. “Goddess of marriage. It’s not gonna happen.”

“And as the goddess of love, I gotta say, Chloe and Beca really—”

“Look who’s talking,” Flo muttered.

“Shh!” Aubrey cut everyone off, her phone having conveniently chosen that moment to beep with a notification. “Text from Jesse,” she said, and the others fell quiet.

They’d collectively decided that if they were going to use their newly-acquired Greek powers, only a few of the Bellas would actually be heading the attack on the sorority. Because Beca, Cynthia Rose, Amy, and Lilly all had the most active powers, they had decided to enter the building. Emily and Ashley had also gone in to act as the muscle. That left Aubrey, Chloe, Flo, Stacie, and Jessica keeping surveillance from within a tree (Ashley’s idea) because it allowed them to watch the sorority house while remaining hidden. Jesse, then, had taken a strategic position in between the two groups so that he could act as messenger and pass along news to either group. Thankfully, he’d exchanged his paper planes for texting.

“‘Friendlies have entered the building. Hold your position,’” Aubrey read out loud to the others, internally approving of Jesse’s insistence on using militaristic language. Her father would be proud. “Okay, this is it. Time to see what happens.”

Another text followed shortly after, reading simply, “Phase 1.”

“It’s starting,” Aubrey said to the others just in time for the first roll of thunder to reach their ears. The plan was for Cynthia Rose and Beca to work together and use their godly powers to create a storm inside the sorority house, disrupting the party with a slew of thunder, lightning, rain, and wind.

The thunder continued, building to a constant roll that shook the very tree branch beneath Aubrey. Under the noise of that, though, came the distinct sound of many voices whooping and cheering.

Aubrey turned to Chloe, confused. “Are they… celebrating?”

“Probably think it’s part of the show for the party,” Stacie mumbled, sounding irritated.

Sure enough, another text from Jesse arrived: “Moving to Phase 2.”

Aubrey shuddered; they’d been hoping that a little indoor storm would be enough to get the sorority sisters to reverse the curse, but apparently not. That’s why they’d sent in Lilly.

Seconds later, the cheers turned to screams of pure terror.

“Holy shit,” Jessica breathed, and Flo crossed herself; Aubrey privately agreed. She wouldn’t even imagine what the inside of that house would look like with Lilly raising her dead army inside it.

Aubrey expected to feel it at any second—the lift of the curse, which would rid the Bellas of their powers as soon as the sorority witches crumpled under the onslaught, but nothing happened. She exchanged another look with Chloe, full of grim uncertainty, when something almost imperceptible changed in the air, the smallest shockwave traveling through her chest.

Then the sound from the sorority party crescendoed, a rising cacophony of screams now mingled with an unnatural laughter that sent unease firing down Aubrey’s spine, interwoven with garbled shouting and rising music, thudding with heavy bass and erratic electric threads that grated against the inside of Aubrey’s skull, pressing outward from within so that it felt like there was something trying to escape from within Aubrey’s own mind, and no matter how tightly she pressed her hands against her ears, the terrible sounds fed off one another and grew until—snap!

Silence.

Aubrey’s hands fell from her ears. She looked at each of the Bellas in the tree with her, their expressions mirroring the blatant confusion and fear she felt.

Whatever that was, it hadn’t been part of their original plan.

Aubrey’s phone chimed. “Phase... 3???” Jesse had sent, apparently as uncertain as they all were.

“What happened?” Stacie breathed, but Aubrey just shook her head.

“No idea,” she said, but then something changed inside her chest.

It was like an object inside her had fallen away, leaving her empty and confused. She felt different, suddenly uncertain about their plan or any sort of strategy. The sunshine around them dimmed, and Aubrey caught Jessica staring at the oats and cereal in her hands in confusion.

“I think—”

“Did it work?” Chloe asked. “Is it over?”

“You didn’t rhyme,” Aubrey pointed out, growing excited. “Flo! What are the odds of Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds staying together forever?”

“Hmm?” Flo looked over skeptically. “They’re fine, but celebrity marriages, you never know.”

“Chloe, say something else.”

“Like what? Just anything?”

“I hate Shredded Wheat,” Jessica mumbled, still staring at the box in her hands.

“I think we’re good!” Aubrey exclaimed happily. “Ladies, we can get out of this tree now.”

They slid off their respective branches, climbing down carefully. At one point, a branch snarled itself in Aubrey’s hair and she had to work to free herself, but eventually, her feet touched the grass and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“But I don’t feel different?” Stacie said once they were all on the ground. She patted herself up and down, spending far too much time adjusting her boobs.

“That’s probably okay,” Chloe said with a grin, her eyes flashing to Aubrey.

The sound of pounding footsteps rushing toward them made Aubrey turn; Jesse sprinted toward them, panting and out of breath.

“Hey!” he managed between gasps for air. “I don’t know what happened over there. Things got really…”

“Weird?” Aubrey suggested.

“Yeah. I think I’m back to normal, though,” Jesse added, also patting himself down for whatever reason. “No more urges to send messages.”

“We’re good here, too,” Aubrey said with a glance at the others.

“Nice! So that means—”

“No more curse, aca-bitches!” Amy’s loud voice startled everyone as she reappeared at the end of their driveway. “I saved the day!”

Behind her, Beca, Cynthia Rose, Lilly, Emily, and Ashley all straggled into the Bella yard. They looked a little worse for wear, and Aubrey noticed that they all seemed to eye Amy wearily. Even Lilly was sure to keep her distance.

“You’re okay!” Chloe said in relief, rushing toward Beca. At the last minute, she performed a weird little jerking motion, as if stopping herself from flinging her arms around Beca’s neck.

“Yeah, no, we’re good,” Beca muttered, talking mostly to Chloe. “The curse they put on us is broken.”

“Those bleach-blondes won’t be bothering us anymore. Crushed it,” Amy said proudly.

Aubrey stared. “What happened?”

“Uh…” Beca hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“Well,” she began, eyes again flicking to Amy. “Cynthia Rose and I made a little hurricane. I made the sinks burst and then made it rain, and Cynthia Rose made it lighting and get stormy, but everyone there thought it was a theme thing.”

“Cool theme, though,” Emily added. “And yeah, that wasn’t working, so then Lilly summoned, like… dead people. Lots and lots of dead people,” she shivered, looking uncomfortable. Aubrey hoped she wasn’t going to have nightmares. “Ashley and I rounded up as many of the sorority girls as we could. They knew what we wanted, but kept laughing at us, even though their guests were seriously scared.”

“So how…?” Aubrey asked, still confused.

Each of the Bellas shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Beca spoke up. “Amy,” she said with finality and a little awe. “It was Amy.”

Amy bowed grandly. “Thank you, thank you, hold the applause. Actually, no, just applaud.”

“What did she do?” Stacie asked.

“She… broke them,” Ashley answered slowly.

Aubrey blinked.

“God of wine and madness, remember? Insanity?” Amy reminded them. “I just made everyone go on a little trip. Laughing at nothing, talking to walls, running in circles, dancing on tables. Even made a few do mermaid dancing, thank you.”

“It was scary,” Emily admitted.

Aubrey recalled the wall of noise that had hit her in the tree and made her cover her ears. She winced, unable to imagine what the snapping of all those minds must have been like to witness up close.

“And then the sorority girls got scared and agreed to end the curse,” Beca finished the story. “When they saw what Amy could do, well… they ended it, and everyone went back to normal. I think their guests left, though.”

“Just like that?” Aubrey asked.

“Well, they should have thought before cursing us with godly powers,” Amy said proudly. “Should have checked to see what our costumes were before making them come to life.”

Aubrey had to hand it to Amy; she was impressed. With all of them, really.

“So…” Chloe hedged. “Party back on?”

Aubrey hesitated. “Chloe, I don’t think—”

“Hell yeah!” Beca interrupted.

“Let’s do it!” Amy agreed.

Jesse plucked Chloe’s phone from her hands. “Already back on alerting the guest list.”

Aubrey shook her head, laughing as she recognized defeat. “Fine!” she said, throwing her hands into the air and accidently catching Stacie’s eye. Stacie winked, and once again, Aubrey’s chest fluttered.

What a weird way to spend Halloween. But there was nowhere she’d rather be.

#pitch perfect horror week 2019 #HW191 #bechloe #staubrey #aubrey posen #chloe beale #beca mitchell #okay listen this is basically satire #more comedy than horror #greek mythology

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trackerkitsune · 4 years

Text

Desert Greed

AO3 link here.

Relationship: Mitsuko Koizumi x Bujir of the Uyagir

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Newly crowned the Khagan of the Steppe, a Raen Warrior of Light visits some of her new allies at an inopportune time. She comes to learn the hard way that there are some major differences between the Raen and the Xaela.

Mitsuko almost scoffed when Cirina warned her to be careful on the Steppe. As the new khagan, it was only fair that she carried the news to the neutral tribes as well as those who fought in the Naadam as a sort of ritual introduction. Having been dealing with the Garleans and Ala Mhigans for a few weeks now without a break, the free air of the Steppe was a most welcome taste to her and she took to the sky on her Yol perhaps a little too enthusiastically, heading towards the territory of the Dotharl before Cirina could explain her warning. The Mol girl watched her go helplessly, clenching her hands to her chest and praying for the Raen to be alright on her journey.

Even as the khagan it was considered rude and an insult to land inside a tribe’s camp without permission, thus Mitsuko landed a short way off from the temporary fence and walked to Dotharl Khaa. Sadu had clearly seen her coming since the khatun stood ready to greet her as she approached. “Udgan, has no one told you it’s dangerous for one such as yourself to wander the Steppe so carelessly now?” The dark skinned shaman gestured round the camp. Mitsuko tilted her head, shrugging.

“Short of a dead Garlean prince coming back to life or a primal dropping on my head, there’s not much that I consider a threat around here, Sadu Khatun,” she replied, careful to show the Xaela the respect she deserved. Though something was quite clearly off. “Forgive me for asking, but… you seem to be lacking in warriors. Is something amiss?” Mitsuko blinked as she looked around the nearly empty camp, not seeing Mauci, Koko or even Kishiligh. Sadu tsk’ed lightly, shaking her head.

“Nothing is amiss, outsider. Our men have taken their chosen lovers elsewhere while the rut takes over, so no one gets too badly hurt,” the older woman was clearly taking great amusement in explaining the situation to her, particularly when Mitsuko gave her a dawning look of comprehension and horror.

“...Rut?” She squeaked, and Sadu laughed whilst uncrossing her arms to tease the other further.

“Aye. Do your kind not have the same? Or is it different?”

“For the Raen, it’s the women that go into heat,” Mitsuko answered quietly, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I now understand why Cirina was worried about me travelling around at the moment, though… Still, I need to speak with the Uyagir at least. I want to make sure Coldwind hasn’t been threatening them again.” The Khatayin and their Qatun had made a nuisance of themselves the last time she had been near the caves, right up until her chocobo had knocked out the leader with a vicious kick.

“I would caution you against it,” Sadu advised her softly. “Out here you can run or fight if needed, but the cave they dwell in is a dead end, and not all of their men have a lover to ease the rut. Be wary of them, and do not let yourself be cornered.” The Raen almost dismissed her worries as paranoia, but firmly reminded herself that the Dotharli woman clearly knew more about what was going on than she did.

“Thank you, I will take your advice,” she assured her, waving as she left the safety of the temporary settlement and headed for the caves. The Uyagir had been quite passive towards her before, so she wasn’t too worried… Until she heard a scuffle breaking out ahead. Several of the men from the tribe were having a heated wrestling match, overseen by some of the older women, and Mitsuko skirted around them carefully. There were heavy pheromones in the air, and she cursed as she realized the lack of air movement inside the cave only made it worse.

She couldn’t see Ibakha anywhere, realizing too late that the Uyagir seemingly had a similar habit to the Dotharl. A pair of hands grasped her shoulders gently and pulled her further in before she could react. Struggling, she growled until a familiar voice caught her attention.

“The gods told me you would come back here, Warrior.” She identified him immediately. Bujir had pulled her out of sight of the rest of the tribe, his arms holding her deceptively firmly against him. She could feel the heat radiating off him even through her healer robes, almost as though he was running a high fever. Twisting around she placed a cool hand to his forehead, frowning at the difference. The usually reserved man dipped his head into her palm in response, a soft groan sounding in his throat at the welcome coolness. “You’ve not come at a good time, Mitsuko,” he murmured, docile for now but his eyes betrayed how far gone he was already. His pupils were blown wide, the purple of his irises only a thin ring. The Raen swallowed and forced herself out of his hold, making sure to keep her eyes on him as she moved back. The loss of contact clearly pained him, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to reach after her.

“I came to see if you’d had any further trouble with the Khatayin,” she pushed the subject on him, watching him blink and try to focus enough to come up with a sensible answer. She almost felt sorry for Bujir. At least when Raen had their heats they were mostly sensate and aware enough to still talk about anything important, but this Rut seemed to drive all sense from the Xaela. He shrugged eventually, sinking to sit against the wall with a heavy breath.

“The Khatayin…? They are as preoccupied as the rest of the tribes right now,” he muttered, not moving as Mitsuko slowly kneeled beside him and called water into her palms. Offering the pure liquid to him, she was met with little resistance from the proud Uyagiri male who seemed content to drink from her hands. She smoothed her cold palms over his forehead and cheeks again, lowering the heat coming from him just a little. He gave a wavering murmur of thanks, leaning into the cool touch.

The little healer had no warning when her arm was grabbed and she was pulled over and down, Bujir twisting easily and catching her head before it hit the stone cave floor. His lips collided with hers, muffling her surprised shriek. Mitsuko stared upwards into hazy half closed purple eyes, some part of her being affected by whatever pheromones he was giving off. That part whispered for her to melt under his grip and to give into the second hand effects of the rut, while her more sensible mind demanded that she push the Xaela off and bolt. Yet another part of her wondered why she had been so stupid as to disregard Sadu’s warning.

There was little else for it now. She struggled against the bigger male, trying to ignore that it was clearly turning him on, and slammed her summoning tome against one delicate horn. The snarled curse that came from him made her wince in sympathy even as she used his sudden lack of balance to shove him over and roll away, up onto her feet. Running for the cave entrance, she yelped in dismay as she was abruptly tackled to the ground - again with her head and horns carefully shielded from the ground. He was aware enough to recognise that she was also Au Ra, then. Pulling her backwards, the lust dazed Xaela growled softly.

“That hurt… Did you have to hit my horn, little one?” With a few deft movements, the hand not muffling her hearing on one side had tossed the tome away, followed by her staff. She hissed back in threat.

“Did you need to try and force yourself upon me like some arrogant, greedy fool?!” Her words seemed to be a physical force, the other recoiling from her as if burned. His gaze, though still hazy, spoke volumes of his hurt and with obvious effort he let go of her, turning away.

“...Leave, then,” he spoke after a moment, “before I lose my restraint again.”

Mitsuko winced at the offense in his voice, cursing her own thoughtlessness. The Uyagir hated to have more than the bare basics that they needed, endeavouring to be anything but greedy or arrogant as their ancestors had been. Even in rut, it seemed some things pierced through if they had been internalized so deeply as the tribe’s philosophy. She moved slowly, collecting her weapons and backing away while her mind was in a whirl.

She had harboured a liking for Bujir since she had first met him, not only the colour but the honesty and frankness in his eyes drawing her to him easily. He had been happy to tell her the tribe’s history while the others had regarded her with suspicion, even going so far as to explain the meanings of the paintings on the walls. His looks weren’t bad either, and she caught herself wondering if it would be so bad to be bedded by him. She shook her head at herself. He had made the effort to force himself away from her after she’d refused the first time. To stay now would surely be insulting…

“Oh who am I kidding?” The Raen sighed at herself, stepping back towards the miserable looking man and placing her weapons down with much more care than he had shown to them. Her pack came off after, placed down within easy reach, as well as the belts to hold anything she needed. Her long robe she shrugged out of, tucking it back around her shoulders as a makeshift blanket and taking her boots off. Mitsuko stepped warily closer to the other Au Ra, noticing that he had fixed his eyes on the walls. He was trying, bless him, and she almost felt worse for making it worse for him. “Bujir?” She steeled herself and knelt behind the Xaela, hugging him and nuzzling his horn delicately. He turned enough to look at her with one eye over his shoulder, trembling faintly under her hands.

“If you will not let me have you then don’t tempt me,” he growled, “else I will throw you down and have you here.”

“If you will be gentle then you may have me,” she answered flatly, seeing his lovely eyes go wide in surprise. He turned warily, heat thrumming under his skin, and reached to cup her cheek.

“You ask something difficult for me right now Mitsuko,” he murmured, “I can’t promise… But I will try. Please…” He leaned in and kissed her again and this time she reciprocated, shuffling forward until she was in his lap.

The utterly relieved and pleased moan he let out gave her more confidence, tiny hands pulling his turban from his head and letting his hair spill free. She tangled her fingers into the messy strands, tugging lightly and then moving down to stroke his horns sensually. The deep purr that rumbled through his chest communicated his appreciation of the motions, hips bucking a little as his body reacted. “Mitsuko…” His hands moved shakily as he set to undressing her, thankful in his daze that her clothes were easily slipped off. The Raen’s hands weren’t idle either, pulling at his trousers until he kneeled up to help her push them down. He kicked them off impatiently as the girl pushed his shirt up over his head and off, only getting it caught once on his horns. Mitsuko grinned playfully, pulling back from him long enough to toss her underclothes to the side. She was pulled against him unceremoniously, Bujir’s grip firm as he just held her there for a moment.

“Skin contact?” She murmured softly, carding her fingers through his hair and feeling more than seeing the slight nod. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders in response as she hugged him back, hands rubbing gently on his back. One of his hands slowly coaxed her legs open and guided her hips closer, pressing them closer together. Both had forgotten completely about the others of the tribe who were just outside and had likely heard everything. Thick yet deft fingers worked into her, stroking open her slit and pressing in slowly as she did everything she could to distract Bujir from the insistent instinct to just take her without any courtesy. For now he rocked against her thigh with soft breaths, working her open in preparation to receive him. The Raen female whimpered and mewled at the delicious feeling, moving into his hand without any sort of apprehension.

“You feel ready enough... I need you…” Bujir groaned after several minutes of stretching his partner, fingers covered in her fluids. Mitsuko nodded in agreement wordlessly, kissing him yet again and letting him lift her to position his cock. His eyes fixated on hers, warm and lusting for her. “Mine… No other will touch you,” he growled deeply as he pulled her down slowly, easing her onto his impressive length and rocking his hips gently. The little Auri woman shuddered at the pleasurable feeling, her body clamping down on the invading appendage tightly and spasming around it.

Gods but he was big! She had of course taken auri cock before, but she was quite certain that Bujir was rather on the larger side of the scale as the tapered length slipped deeper slowly, her own body heating up as he claimed her. There was a haze beginning to settle over her own mind and she mewled, wordlessly begging for him to fill her utterly and give her everything he could. The Xaela moaned deep in his throat at the sound, nodding and pulling back before thrusting deep into her, setting up a pace. His movements pulled a delighted sound from her, her body responding eagerly and rocking back down onto his cock.

“Ah, Bujir… Bujir,” she whimpered softly, “gods… so big… so good…” She knew it was his rut affecting her but no longer cared, her body on fire as she was thoroughly fucked and claimed. He shuddered against her, lifting her chin to kiss her deeply and swallowing each sweet muffled moan.

“Mit...su...ko…” He panted breathlessly with each thrust, holding tightly to her. He snarled deeply as hands tried to pull her away, her own protest coming out in an anguished cry when just her top half was pulled away. She locked her legs around his waist and he pulled her back to himself forcefully, growling threateningly at the women from his own tribe. He placed the adventurer on her back and leaned over her possessively, fucking her harder and faster than before. She clenched and spasmed around his length tightly, his thrusting rubbing exactly the right way and causing her to orgasm with a loud cry of his name. Her passage locked tightly around his cock, squeezing tighter as he kept moving. Someone was attempting to speak to her but she shook her head, too lost in the haze of heat and pleasure to register their words. All of her senses were focused completely on Bujir, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair as he kissed her again and continued to thrust into her, his pace picking up as he approached his own release. Her body practically begged in its own way for him to come inside her, pushing back into his thrusts without conscious thought. She could feel something thicker against her lower lips with each thrust and whined, keening as it slowly forced its way inside her. Her hands scrabbled against his shoulders as the knot expanded and locked them together, her cry being muffled and swallowed in the kiss. She shuddered and bucked, a second orgasm wrecking her utterly as the intensity of the feeling pushed her over the edge again. Bujir moaned into her mouth as his own release hit, hearing her whimper as he filled and claimed her with his seed. He had to brace himself on his forearms to make sure he didn’t fall on her, pulling away from her lips to gently press their foreheads together and breathe. The Raen girl could vaguely hear one of the women of the tribe saying to leave the pair alone and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her partner’s scent drowned her. The Uyagiri male jerked his hips back, dislodging the knot. Mitsuko’s eyes rolled back as the stimulation made her cry out, the next inward thrust knocking her mind for a loop.

“Ah… Again…?” She managed to question, whimpering at the obscene squelching as her new mate brought up a slower pace, the absence of the other Uyagir calming his possessiveness. Bujir chuckled breathlessly and kissed her, nipping her lips with sharp teeth and pushing his tongue inside her mouth to plunder it and what little sense remained in her head.

Time slipped by in a haze of sex, knotting and sleeping, the cycle repeating for an unknown amount of time. Slowly she surfaced from it to find herself sore, boneless and being lowered carefully into cool water. “Whu… What…” She mumbled out, turning her head carefully to look around.

“Ease, little love,” came from above her head and she shivered as attentive hands carefully began to clean her. “The rut is over, let me clean you up and then you can sleep again.” She let out a distressed whine, trying to turn to no avail. Her body simply wouldn’t obey her.

“Why can’t I move?” A fond chuckle by her horn, and a soft kiss to the sensitive organ.

“Sore muscles that have gone numb. You will feel them again soon enough, don’t strain yourself for now. You want to turn around?” Without trouble she was lifted and turned, set down straddling the male’s lap as his hands rubbed soothing circles into her thighs. She gazed up blearily into purple eyes and remembered some of what had happened. A low groan escaped her as she dropped her head to rest on his pectoral muscles. Bujir’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t cease his gentle cleaning of her. “Is something wrong, Mitsuko?” She sighed, accepting that she wasn’t going anywhere for now.

“How long did the rut last…?” She asked eventually, able at least to lift her arms to hug round his neck.

“A week, perhaps two? I have yet to see any of the others return,” he answered softly. “Mine were always shorter than theirs… Perhaps the gods knew my partner would not be used to such a long time spent fucking.” He tipped water over her head and kneaded soap into her hair, his nails scraping lightly over her scalp. The Raen purred and all but collapsed against him, the sensation one of the few things that could effectively stop her from being able to think.

“Mm… I should be back in Ala Mhigo by now, helping them rebuild…” She protested without much heat, leaning into the massaging instinctively.

“You cannot even stand right now, little love,” the Uyagiri male chided softly, lifting her out of the water and placing her down on a nearby cushion. “Fighting is certainly not going to be on your agenda for a few days.” He pulled a towel over and began to dry her, shushing her and pushing away her hands as she protested the treatment.

“I can dry myself at least,” she complained, crossing her arms, “I'm not completely helpless!” Bujir paused in his ministrations, looking her in the eye.

“Over the years I have seen the battles you would fight, and the way you would be treated by those who forget you are more than a weapon,” he spoke firmly, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him. “I have seen every scar you will earn in your upcoming battles... As your mate, allow me to pamper you for now while I can.” With that said, he went straight back to his task of drying her off, moving her closer to the fire after he had gotten all the water he could with the towel. Mitsuko was silent for a time, letting him do as he wanted.

“...You saw everything that would happen?” She asked after a few long moments spent staring into the fire. He embraced her tightly, nodding. “...Prove it,” she continued, her voice quieter. “What scar hurts the most?” She looked up with bright eyes into his face, waiting for his answer. Bujir hesitated, pulling her that little bit closer and tucking her head under his chin.

“...The one you wish you had received but he took it for you,” he replied softly, feeling her tremble violently against him. A second later the small healer had twisted in his hold to grip tightly onto him, burying her face in his neck and breathing unsteadily. The Xaela sighed softly and adjusted his hold so she would be more comfortable.

“I will go with you, when you are able to return to Ala Mhigo,” he spoke gently after a few minutes, hoping to comfort her. Mitsuko shook her head.

“It's not fair on you, to have to leave your people behind,” she rebuffed his words, “you are the one who supervises the painting of your tribe's history on the walls…” He kissed her deeply, stopping her protests dead. With the hazy memory of the rut still fresh, she could only whimper softly.

“Ibakha or any of the elders can do the very same,” he dismissed her concerns easily. “If I stay without you, I will go straight back into another rut. I do not wish to take another.”

"Then we will leave when I can walk." It felt good to have someone unconditionally at her back. The Raen leaned against her mate and dozed off contently.

#Mitsuko Koizumi #Mitsuko x Bujir #Bujir Uyagir #Kink: heat #Kink: non-human genitalia #Raen x Xaela #FFXIV #OC WoL #ao3 crosspost #writing

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uglifish · 5 years

Text

HALLOWEEN STORY!

Title: Body-Swap! -- A 6,000 word short, written by TEN people, (yes, 10 writers, 10 friends, 10 fandom authors) in the spirit of Halloween!

—————————— YLJE

“Lightning struck, and for a moment the room was lit, and he saw a woman in the room, and she whispered ‘yooouuuu kiiillleeeed meeee!’”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Yugi shivered. That wasn’t a true story, was it? It couldn’t be.

“And, it’s a true story,” Jounouchi said with a grin, still holding the flashlight under his chin to cast long shadows across his face.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit! No way that’s real.” Honda lightly punched Jou’s arm, and caught off guard, he dropped the flashlight, which clattered to the floor and went dead.

The room was dark and silent, the occasional roar of thunder the only sound.

“This reminds me of—” Ryou hesitated before he continued, “the...ring. The world in the ring.” The last part was a barely audible whimper.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, it’s safely locked away,” Yugi said with a gentle smile.

At the mention of the ring, Yami appeared by Yugi’s side. He hadn’t been interested in the so-called ghost story, but the Millennium Ring was a real danger.

What are you talking about, Aibou?

“A-ah, I just told Bakura-kun not to worry about the ring-spirit anymore.”

He should. There is power in the Millennium Items we cannot possibly comprehend.

Yami’s grave tone left Yugi feeling unsettled, and though the others had not heard the silent conversation, an uneasy tension hung over them all.

”Oh, I just remembered! I have some candy in my bag, anyone want some?”

Yugi didn’t wait for an answer as he hurried over to his backpack, desperate to lighten the mood.

‘I wonder…’ Yugi thought as he reached into his bag, ‘...how it was for Bakura-kun…’ his hand brushed against the leather cover of a book, ‘...in there…’

A blinding flash of light erupted in the room, and Yugi felt like he was being torn in half. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t see, and he blindly grabbed for the puzzle around his neck, trying to find some comfort.

What he found, however, was something soft and round.

He blinked a couple of times, his vision slowly returning, and looked down at himself.

Breasts.

Breasts?!

He heard Anzu yelp, and looked around frantically to find her.

“Anzu, are you okay?” A comforting hand on his shoulder. Yugi looked up to find Yami standing over him with a concerned expression. Yami, in his own body!

Yugi was about to speak, but his tongue didn’t obey.

“Don’t touch me, Pharaoh!” Anzu spat, and slapped Yami’s hand away.

Confused, Yami took a step back. Something was wrong. Something felt wrong. His mind was too quiet. “Anzu?”

“Stupid Pharaoh, I’m not that little friendship bitch.”

The grin on Anzu’s face made Yami’s blood run cold. He knew that maniacal grin.

“Bakura,” Yami growled. He took a threatening step forward, and was about to take another, when there was a knock at the door.

—————————— SEPPO

The knock was quiet, but it was enough to catch Yami’s attention.

Was that Kaiba? Yami wondered distractedly. No, probably Mokuba.

While Kaiba had been somehow convinced to let the gang use one of the many spare rooms in the mansion, he had turned up his nose at the mere idea of hanging out with those dorks, no matter how much Mokuba had pleaded.

Yami swore. Shit. At least Kaiba stood half a chance against the spirit through force of will alone. He wasn’t as sure about Mokuba.

The lapse in attention had been enough for Yami’s grip to slacken, and Bakura squirmed out of his grip and sprinted toward the door.

Clearly unaccustomed to his newly-possessed body, he stumbled and staggered his way across the floor without even one ounce of Anzu’s grace, running into the door before Yami could even make a move to stop him.

“Give Anzu back!” Yami shouted. He chased after Bakura and began to close the distance between them.

“And ruin this chance? You wish! Have fun with this mess!”

Bakura pushed Yami away, giving himself enough time to open the door and sprint down the hall, making a quick escape.

Left in Bakura’s wake was a very confused Kaiba.

He held his hand up, still poised to knock on the door. His jaw was slack with surprise and his eyes were as wide as saucers. He looked at Yami, then over his shoulder at the direction that Bakura had left, then did a double-take.

Then Kaiba’s voice made a very un-Kaiba like sound.

“Waah? What happened? Who managed to scare Anzu?” He froze in horror, before fearfully raising a hand to his throat, patting down the column on his neck with unsteady fingers. “Heeeeeh?”

—————————— KAILYN

Yami stared at Kaiba in confusion, letting himself forget for a moment that Bakura had just stolen Anzu's body and run away with it.

He wasn't the only one having a hard time processing their situation.

Kaiba began touching his own body, running his fingers through his hair and patting down his torso. Shock crossed over his face and his jaw dropped again, which made Yami raise a brow in surprise. It was as if Kaiba had never ever taken a proper look at his perfect hands, his brown silky hair, his muscular chest…

Kaiba prodded at his face, his lips twitching a bit when he felt soft skin, a strong jaw. Then, his long fingers ghosted across his well-defined stomach. At the same time, he muttered curses between his teeth, curses like shit shit shit, what the fuck is happening—curses that were definitely weird and unusual in the mouth of the young billionaire…

“You and all your magical nonsense!” Jounouchi snarled behind Yami's back. “I should've never let Mokuba talk me into letting you guys borrow a room for your little Halloween party!"

Jounouchi shoved Yami aside roughly, almost pushing him into the wall, but Yami was still too dumbfounded to shout his indignation. He watched his friend make a dash for Kaiba, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and violently jerking him forward, before releasing him and pushing him back with a look of utter disgust on his face.

"If anything happens to Mokuba, I swear..."

Yami did not listen to the end of Kaiba’s sentence.

Kaiba…was in Jounouchi’s body…which meant that Jounouchi was…

As comprehension slowly dawned on him, he turned around, looking at his bewildered friends, who were still sitting together in the middle of the room.

Ryou, eyes wide open, buried his hands in his mane of white hair as if he was about to have a mental breakdown.

Just in front of him sat Marik, who was busy inspecting at his own tanned hands. One would have thought the Egyptian had never taken a proper look at himself before.

"No, no, no! Tell me it's a nightmare!" he wailed, tears of disbelief filling his violet eyes.

"A nightmare?" Ryou asked indignantly, voice lilted with a soft British accent. "At least you have my body!"

——————————LAFEAE

“And how’s that meant to make this any better?” Marik retorted, his trembling voice softening. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, curling in on himself protectively, as he surveyed the room.

“Whether it’s your body or anyone else’s...the fact remains that none of us are where we should be...” he mumbled, trying to blink away the tears. The spoken realization, the same connection that Yami pieced together as the pair spoke, was drowned out by the argument that exploded between Jounouchi and Kaiba. “It ain’t like we were planning for this t’ happen,” Kaiba spat, planting his hands on his hips. Jounouchi’s lip curled. “I’m meant to believe that?” “It was a just party, Kaib’!” “And yet here I stand, staring at my own body,” said Jounouchi, swinging an arm toward Kaiba. “Which, by the way, mutt, almost makes you sound intelligent.” Kaiba jeered. “Heh. So ya jus’ like the sound of your own voice. What a fuckin’ surprise!”

As he spoke, his hands slowly slipped from the curve of his hips and traced inward, along the crease of his thighs. “I wonder...” he drawled, a wicked grin appearing. “...if your dick’s as big as your ego.” “Don’t you dare put your filthy hands—“ “Your hands,” Kaiba corrected, smirking.

Jounouchi seethed, reaching out to grasp at Kaiba’s collar, this time with less hesitation.

“Ooh, I’m so scared. What are ya gonna do? Punch yourself in the face? Go on,” he said, his hands pulling away from his groin to tap gently against his cheek, “I’ll take the pain for a sec. Ain’t like I’m the one wearing the bruise...” “That is enough!” Yami said, pulling away from the wall and orienting himself between both parties. “Marik...or Ryou is correct. We are not where we should be, and fighting will not solve it. We need to figure this out.” He pointed toward Kaiba and Jounouchi. “Calmly. Rationally.” The weight of the sudden shift in atmosphere, from jovial to terrified, became palpable once silence fell over everyone.

In the midst of it, uneven footsteps, fighting for momentum, clattered in the distance. “Yeah....” Honda’s frightened voice agreed. He sat on his knees, not far from the circle, eyes wide and hands balled tight at his chest. “My...my body ran off! We have to get it back, like, now I...” he shivered, looking down at himself before squeezing his eyes closed. “I don’t want to be like this forever....” —————————— SETOKAIBAES

“Hey, you don’t gotta worry. We’re gonna fix this, ‘kay?”

Joey’s comforting words sounded strange and unsettling from Kaiba’s mouth. He drew Honda into a friendly, one-armed embrace, reassuringly squeezing his wide shoulders, while Jounouchi watched with a sullen expression.

Yami ignored the touching scene, trying to tap into the mental connection he shared with Yugi.

Partner, if you can hear me, I need your help, he thought desperately, and closed his eyes to concentrate, tentatively searching for any indication that the mental link between himself and Yugi hadn’t been severed.

He was met with static silence.

Yami swallowed down his rising fear and exhaled slowly, mind racing with far too many thoughts, a flurry of potential solutions to a problem he didn’t even know how to approach.

“What are we going to do?” Marik asked quietly, violet eyes flashing with concern. He raised a hand to his shoulders, reaching for a strand of hair to twirl around his index finger out of nervous habit, before he appeared to remember that his blond hair was now eight inches shorter.

Marik frowned, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, and when he spoke again, his voice was distinctly annoyed. “Whatever it is, we have to act quickly. I don’t like this.”

“You’re telling me,” Ryou muttered, pushing his hair out of his face and twisting the long waves that spilled over his shoulders into a knot at the nape of his neck. “Haven’t you ever heard of a haircut? It’s so dead.”

“While you losers talk about personal grooming, I’ll actually do something about this,” Jounouchi growled, stomping forward two paces, before Yami stepped between him and the door, effectively barricading it. “Get out of the way.”

Yami didn’t budge. Jounouchi glared. “Are you just going to stand there like a feral little man? I said, get out of my way!”

“We have to stick together,” Yami insisted, raising a hand to Jounouchi’s chest, distinctly aware that he would never dare to touch Kaiba this way. He ignored the violent shudder beneath his palm and harmlessly let his hand fall away, fingers innocently brushing down the flat plane of Jounouchi’s firm stomach.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jounouchi snapped, grabbing his arm to push him to the side. His fingers wrapped around that lean bicep and squeezed. His intentions were threatening, but he automatically registered the sensation of the sinewy muscle hidden beneath his silky soft skin. “The mansion is enormous. We’ll get this thing over with quickly if we split up and search the rooms individually.”

He was still holding Yami’s wrist.

Recoiling, Jounouchi pushed him away. “Whatever. You geeks can do what you want. I’m getting my body back.”

“Kaiba! You can’t go out there alone!” Yami shouted, forcefully enough to make Jounouchi freeze mid-step. “I agree that we should split up, but not alone.”

He pointed at different people around the room. “Marik and Ryou, you two stick together. Téa, I’m sorry, but you should stay here in case Yugi somehow finds his way back here… Kaiba, you and I will go with Jounouchi.”

Kaiba immediately scrunched his face and raised his voice in protest. “But Yams, I don’t wanna go with him!”

“Do you think I want to be paired with you? Get a grip.”

“Hey, your attitude is not making this any easier, Kaiba!”

Yami stepped between them, stretching onto the tips of his toes, straining more than usual, to cup Kaiba’s face in his hands. It felt strange and different, but right, and he swiped his thumbs over the high apples of Kaiba’s cheekbones.

“It won’t be long now. Try to be patient.”

Kaiba sighed and nodded glumly, and Atem released him.

“Good. The three of us will work together.”

“We checked this room already.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d recognize the rooms in my own damn house, Wheeler.”

Kaiba came to an abrupt stop and spun on his heel, violently jabbing a finger into Jounouchi’s chest.

“What’s your fuckin’ beef, Kaiba?”

“My beef?”

“You’re bein’ more of a dick than usual, so what’s the problem?”

Jounouchi glared at him. “Are you really that stupid? We have many problems and you’re asking me to pick one?”

Kaiba took a step forward, looming over Jounouchi by a solid few inches. It was satisfying to see the flash of surprise and fear in his own honey eyes, and to know that the real Seto Kaiba finally saw him as a real threat.

Or himself, at any rate.

“Stop complainin’ or I’ll give you something to complain about!”

“Is that a threat, Wheeler?”

“Nah, just consider it an invitation to square the fuck up, Kaiba!”

“Enough!” Yami barked, stalking between the two and forcibly pushing them apart from one another. “We’re never going to accomplish anything unless you two learn to behave!”

“If you want Wheeler to behave, you’ll have to sign the mutt up for training classes,” Jounouchi sneered, and not even Yami could stand between them when Kaiba lunged all six-feet-and-spare-inches of his gangly body at Jounouchi.

The endless corridors in the Kaiba mansion were fearsome in the dark. Ryou clung to Marik’s arm tightly, sinking his jagged fingernails into his own skin deep enough to leave white, sore crescents into the smooth brown flesh.

Marik tried not to wince. He didn’t comment on Ryou’s shallow breathing and his wide, panicked eyes— an instinctive and near-primal reaction to the oppressive darkness that had tormented him nearly his entire life.

“Hey, Marik?”

“What?”

He ignored the sharp tone. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

Ryou froze, and a strange, suspicious expression crossed over his face. “Did you?”

Marik stared at him quietly.

—————————— INUKISAMA

A distant scream made Ryou and Marik freeze in their tracks. They tried to guess where the screaming had come from, eyes flitting back and forth and looking all over the room.

Ryou gripped Marik’s arm tightly — his own arm, he thought distantly, and he would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all if he wasn’t so afraid.

“What was that?” Marik asked, feeling the lump of fear traveling up his throat. The scream had sounded feminine, and that meant…

“Anzu?”

Yami couldn’t think, just couldn’t focus with so many grunts, complaints and constant arguments which only ended up wearing out his patience. Couldn’t Kaiba and Jounouchi just shut up for once? He needed to think and find out what had caused this sudden change of bodies. He was also terribly worried about Yugi, who had to share Anzu’s body with Bakura.

This thought made him shudder — his friends were in danger, and nobody seemed to want to cooperate.

Yami rubbed his face in frustration and to calm down, but a distant scream made him freeze in his tracks. It sounded like Anzu — no, Yugi!

“What is it now?” Jounouchi’s voice interrupted his thoughts in Kaiba’s typically impatient tone.

—————————— CRIMSONDREAMS

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Kaiba asked, worried.

Of course they hadn’t heard it — they had been too busy arguing and arguing with each other.

“Anzu! She was screaming!”

“Anzu?” Kaiba blinked in confusion.

Yami raked his fingers through his hair desperately.

“Anzu, Yugi, whatever! He’s in danger! Let’s go!” he said impatiently and began to run without exactly knowing where to go. The shout had been faint, but there was no doubt that it was real.

“Yami!” Kaiba shouted, trying to stop him from running and make him go back. But Yami was too fast, so he was left with no option rather than following him from behind with those long legs he was unaccustomed to.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Jounouchi growled, furious.

On one hand, he would be finally alone, without having to deal with that filthy mutt and his annoying owner. But on the other hand, he didn’t want any more trouble happening in his mansion, with an idiot using his body and running through the dark while chasing his rival. It made sense to follow them.

For some reason, Kaiba felt upset when seeing those two together, so close to one another.

Sometimes he thought that the further they were from him, the better. But it was in moments like these that he wanted Yami to stay away from that filthy dog, even though he couldn’t begin to explain why.

There was also fearful pressure weighing down on his chest and he felt suffocated by his own worries. One question continued to buzz inside his head—

Was Mokuba okay?

——————————AJ

At the time of Anzu’s escape, in another part of the mansion, Mokuba yawned as he switched off his video game console.

It was only when he caught a glimpse of the window that he realized just how late it was. The sun had been high in the sky when he had crept into his room to play his video game, and now the sky was dark, only lit by the moon and a few bright stars.

Mokuba yawned again and registered that his whole body ached from sitting in the same position for hours. He stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head to try to relieve some of the stiffness in his muscles.

His stomach growled, and he realized that he was starving! Why hadn’t anyone called for supper?

Oh well, I’ll just go and raid the pantry.

It was only when Mokuba reached for the doorknob that he remembered Isono and Seto had made themselves scarce because Yugi and his friends were having a party in the mansion.

The party that I left, Mokuba thought to himself, remembering how out of place he had felt when the party had started. Why do I have to be so much younger than the rest?! It’s not fair. They all look at me as if I’m a baby...well, I’ll show them!

Rather than heading down to the kitchen, he decided to rejoin the party. After all, where there was a party, there was food! Plus, he figured, it might be more fun hanging out with Yugi and the others instead of sulking and playing on his game for another hour or two.

Mokuba reached for the doorknob, excitement bubbling up inside of him at the prospect of joining the Halloween festivities. As he opened the door, someone flew past him, ungracefully disappearing around the corner at the end of the corridor.

It took him a moment to recognize that it was Anzu.

What’s she running from? Mokuba wondered, concern rising.

“Anzu!” he cried and ran after her to find out.

Meanwhile, Anzu’s body (with Bakura at the helm) clumsily turned yet another corner. This mansion was like a maze!

“Finally!” Bakura exclaimed.

He finally found the grand staircase that led straight to the front door.

Oh no, Yugi thought as he looked on while Bakura led Anzu’s body down the stairs. Yugi felt powerless to stop him. Bakura’s presence was too strong for him to overpower.

They were near the front door now. Yugi felt the nausea curl in his stomach just picturing the destruction Bakura could cause if he managed to escape.

“I won’t let you leave!” Yugi shouted, fighting Bakura with all his strength to regain control of Anzu’s body.

Bakura could feel his own control slipping as Yugi’s presence gained strength in their shared body.

“This can’t be happening!” he growled. He was so close!

Snarling, Bakura attempted to squash Yugi’s presence completely, but to his dismay, he realized Yugi had more control than he first thought.

He was beginning to lose control of Anzu’s legs. Every step was slow and heavy, as if he was wading through thick mud that reached his knees.

He stopped only a few paces from freedom.

Bakura heard the dull thud of footsteps behind them, and he turned around to glare at the idiot who had foolishly followed them, expecting it to be the Pharaoh.

It wasn’t.

Glee rose within Bakura as he watched Mokuba slide to a stop in front of him and try to catch his breath.

He doesn’t know about the swap! Bakura realized. This will be easy.

“What’s going on?! Why are you running?!” Mokuba panted out, gasping for breath.

“Something happened, something I can’t explain. But I have to get out. Now!” Bakura replied, trying hard to imitate Anzu to quell any suspicion that Mokuba might have.

It worked.

“Let me help!”

Mokuba approached Anzu and reached out to put a comforting arm around her. Bakura took his chance. He grabbed the young boy’s arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing Mokuba to his knees.

Mokuba grunted in surprise and pain shot through his arm and knees. He was too shocked to make any other noise.

Yugi, however, started shouting and pleading with Bakura. Let him go! He’s just a child, please!

Bakura knew Yugi well enough to know that he would do anything to keep his friends from being hurt.

“Give up any control you have over this pathetic body, and then I shall consider it,” Bakura replied out loud, tightening his grip on a very confused Mokuba.

While Bakura and Yugi fought for control, Mokuba ignored Anzu’s strange behavior and tried to make out the noise coming from the second story. He didn’t understand what was going on, but when he noticed that Anzu was distracted, he twisted his head around and bit Anzu’s forearm.

Hard.

She screamed and let go.

Taking his chance to escape, Mokuba clambered to his feet and raced up the stairs. He had to find Seto! Full of adrenaline, Mokuba ran, not watching where he was going. As he turned a corner, he slammed directly into something, sending him flying backwards.

Before he could crash onto the ground, strong hands flew out to grip him. He looked up to see light brown hair, falling in front of clear, blue eyes that were full of surprise, and concern.

“Seto!” Mokuba exclaimed, relief flooding him as he threw his arms around his big brother.

——————————FICTIONAL SADIST

Jonouchi received the younger Kaiba swiftly and hugged him back instinctively, his brotherly reflexes kicking in faster than his brains. A low growl behind him, however, reminded him what was going on.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it so forcefully that he heard his shoulder give way with a quiet crack! from the pressure.

Katsuya noticed his own body, now inhabited by the pompous prick, was strong, and right now, facing Kaiba’s murderous gaze, he also realized that size did not count for everything.

“Just what do you think you’re do-” Seto began irritably, just as Yami zoomed past them, blowing off the end of his sentence. This made the elder Kaiba pause a fraction, though he soon recovered.

“Anyway, paws off, mutt, now,” the elder Kaiba demanded. Jonouchi scoffed, blue eyes flashing challengingly, and did not deign to answer.

If looks could kill, there would be a pair of dismembered, bloody bodies on the floor right now. Silence built up a tension so thick that even the ruckus downstairs could not pierce through.

Meanwhile, the Pharaoh went straight toward the mess that Anzu had become, jumping down a flight of stairs and tackling her at full speed. He hit her with the force of a bulldozer and sent them both rolling on the magnificent tiled floors. His knees protested when they hit the hard, cold surface, and he winced inwardly when he saw his opponent felt the same kind of pain.

“Sorry, Anzu,” he apologized quickly, thinking of the bruises he would have to explain later.

It was as if a wild beast had taken over his friend. Anzu’s usually friendly face had contorted into a strained sneer, while her eyes burned with rage and deadly threats.

Yugi was there as well, somewhere, and fighting for dear life, but at the moment Yami could only see the thief glaring at him.

The next moment, a strangled cry escaped the girl’s lips and she thrashed frantically to throw him off.

In what he thought to be Seto’s arms, Mokuba let out a shaky breath and looked up.

“Big brother, what’s happening?”

Said brother glanced back at him, hesitating, his gaze both soft and clouded with something akin to panic, and alarms blared in the boy’s head.

In the corner of his vision, he noticed Jonouchi was stiff as a board, his mouth a tight line and his left eye twitching in barely contained anger. The blond was quite open with his emotions and his short temper often showed, though something was definitely wrong here. His normally fiery pupils held an icy, merciless glint. Never had Jounouchi shown such an attitude, glaring as if Seto was an obstacle he could disintegrate with his gaze alone.

It appeared that Anzu was not the only one acting out of character. Had the entire manor gone mad?

“Some help, maybe?” Yami shouted, effectively drawing everyone’s attention back to the urgent matters at hand. The trio forgot their feud temporarily and hurried down.

The Pharaoh was desperately trying to control Anzu. She was clawing at his arms and kicking as if the devil was possessing her, which, in a way, he was. Even in this body foreign to him, Bakura was fighting with impressive strength.

Noticing his friends coming to him, Yami groaned in relief. Really, they had taken their merry time. That had been a perfectly chosen time for Kaiba and Jonouchi to tear into one another while he was busy struggling for their friend’s soul. Not.

If he did not already have his hands full, he would have gladly smacked both morons - his blond airhead of a friend and the other, er, friend, rich ass, something-more-maybe? - into next week. He was tired of them and their stupidity.

But as things stood, he was busy wrestling against one hell of a harpy-like demon that was trying to kick his balls off and punch his teeth in. He had never considered that he and Anzu would clarify their unexpressed feelings this way.

While Yami was distracted, Bakura managed to flip their positions.

Jounouchi pushed a confused Mokuba to where his brother was trying to glare holes in his own body and leapt on top of the struggling pair.

The impact smashed Yami’s face into Anzu’s. Their lips connected briefly before Yami found himself hauled back. He was about to shout at whoever was holding him when he found himself looking down into his own eyes.

“Oh crap…” Yami gasped in Anzu’s voice as saw his and Yugi’s body staring right back at him.

“Yami?! Is that you?” Yugi squeaked.

The rest of occupants of the room froze when Bakura’s dark chuckle echoed around them.

Bakura lifted the puzzle and pressed it to his lips.

“Thank you for this lovely gift pharaoh,” he purred, before turning and making a dash for the door. He grabbed the door handle but when he pulled, nothing happened.

Mokuba showed Seto an app on his cellphone. “I don’t leave my room without it. It can trigger the security system my brother programed which locks the doors.”

Jounouchi put Anzu down and charged at Bakura, slamming him into the firmly locked doors. Yugi and Yami both winced as they heard their skull crack against the door, then watch their body slide to the floor.

“Good job, little brother,” Kaiba whispered fondly and ruffled Mokuba’s hair.

Mokuba blinked. “Is somebody gonna tell me what is going on? Why was Anzu going psycho? Why did Yugi tackle her? Why did he go psycho?”

“More importantly, how did Yami and Bakura switch bodies?” Kaiba asked.

“Wait-what? Somebody please explain to me what the hell is happening?!” Mokuba demanded.

“Unexplained magical shenanigans and now everyone is in different bodies. You know, the usual.” Yugi explained with a roll of his eyes. “I’m Yugi. That was Bakura...who was in Anzu’s body with me...but now he’s in mine and Yami is with me...but how did that happen?”

“I’m not sure, Aibou,” Yami muttered. “It happened when Jounouchi got involved in the struggle my head hit Anzu’s.”

He felt their face heating up. “...What?”

“You...um...may have accidentally kissed her— us…” Yugi admitted.

Jounouchi began laughing, muttering something about how of course that was what Yugi noticed.

Kaiba rolled his eyes, then cringed. “Well...as much as I don’t want to test this, it might be worth the taste of wet dog.”

Mokuba watched Seto, (or Jounouchi, or whatever) march over to Jounouchi and grab him by the front of his shirt to pull him forward and to plant their lips firmly together.

The room went quiet.

Jounouchi turned three shades of green before shoving Kaiba back. Both men wiped their mouths before checking that they were in the proper place.

Kaiba immediately ducked a puch from Jounouchi before turning and heading over to Yami and Yugi, while Jounouchi fell on his face.

Seto pulled Yami and Yugi to their feet, only to pull their bodies flush.

“To get rid of the taste,” he told them before sealing their lips together.

That was the only reason, he thought privately. Not because he was jealous that Yami had kissed Anzu.

Yami felt Yugi’s soul faint in embarrassment before he opened his eyes, now staring down at Anzu’s face, which mirrored Yugi’s confusion.

“What the hell?” Yami asked. He could feel Seto’s soul there with him. “How in the name of the gods did you do that, Kaiba?” Yami asked incredulously with Kaiba’s voice, only to feel their shoulders shrug in response.

——————————UGLI

Yami tentatively wiggled his fingers.

His fingers moved, but the most unnerving thing was the image of Kaiba’s fingers moving at his side in response.

He could feel Kaiba’s anxiety rising the longer they shared his body.

It was very similar to the way Yugi’s soul felt when he was struggling during a particularly hard duel, so Yami let himself to take comfort in this before speaking again, trying not to let his surprise show, because he was speaking with Kaiba’s voice.

“Yugi?” he asked carefully, directing his question toward Yugi’s body, but he saw Anzu nod stiffly in the corner of his eye, and he turned to face her instead. “Are you alright, Aibou?”

Yugi nodded again and shivered, hugging himself tightly, feeling another cold draft passing by, causing goosebumps to rise along his arms.

He spied an odd movement across the room in the semi-darkness, and he found himself staring at Honda, but he was entirely transparent, and his legs had faded into the dark wall behind him. Shocked, Yugi pointed frantically at Honda and stammered nervously, “You’re a ghost! What happened to you?!”

He turned to stare at the solid version of Honda standing behind him, who had his arms wrapped protectively in front of his chest. Anzu frowned sourly at Yugi and shrugged the muscular shoulders of Honda’s body, hating how stiff everything felt. She had had enough and wanted to be back into her own body. The longer Yugi spent occupying her body, the more embarrassing it would be for them later on.

“Dude! Yugi, I’ve been trying to get someone to look at me for the past hour!” Honda cried, whipping his head around to stare at all the strange expressions on everyone’s faces. “Am I...dead?”

“Are you dead?” Yugi echoed uncertainly, and the Honda behind him spoke up, sounding very much like Anzu. “Yugi…? W-Who are you talking to?”

“Me!” Honda exclaimed loudly, dancing comically on the spot, making faces in Jounouchi’s direction but receiving no reaction from his friend. “And I haven’t moved from this spot, funnily enough. It seems like I can’t!”

Yugi frowned, feeling all eyes in the room on him, and he fixed his gaze on his backpack, lying neglected on the floor against the wall, right behind Mokuba...right where Honda’s body was sticking strangely out of the wall.

He moved instinctively toward it and bent down to rifle through it, remembering he had brought a fun book he had found in Grandpa’s stash of artifacts, but had completely forgotten to mention it.

He was certain that this had to be the cause of the odd body switching that had been going on in the past hour.

Mokuba watched Yugi pull out a thick, dusty book and fanned the pages open carefully. He crossed his arms, eyeing the door, losing interest quickly. This party had started out exciting, but now it was beginning to suck.

“I hate reading. I’m leaving,” Mokuba announced brattily, marching toward the door.

“Wait! We might need your help since you’re the only one who is unaffected!” Yugi cried shrilly in Anzu’s voice, and Mokuba nearly choked as he found himself caught around the collar by his older brother.

“Mokuba…” Kaiba started, opening and closing his mouth oddly, feeling Yami’s presence hovering obtrusively on the tip of his tongue, clearly also trying to speak, but he had spoken first, so…this meant he was in control...for now….

“Lemme go!” Mokuba squirmed against his brother’s one-armed hug, and Yugi held the book up triumphantly, looking relieved. “This is how we fix it!

“What in the— is that…the Millennium Tome?” Bakura asked quietly, and Yugi nodded anxiously, staring at his own body across the room, wondering if he always looked that small from afar.

“The what?” Mokuba asked obnoxiously, roughly re-adjusting his shirt and composing himself proudly. “Another Millennium item?”

“Great! I’ve become Yami!” Honda added unhelpfully, and Yugi began to protest, but before he could speak, a crescendo of loud footsteps came echoing up from the hallway.

Marik and Ryou burst into the room, breathless with excitement and glee.

“Look what we found!” Ryou sang playfully, swinging the millennium Ring in front of his face steadily for everyone to see. “Say, Kaiba, why is this h—”

Ryou paused mid-sentence as the ring began to pulse with a strange glow, brightening and fading every few seconds like a rapidly beating heart, while the book and the puzzle also began to blink and pulse in sync with the ring, until the entire room was filled with the odd flickering lights emitting from all three Millennium Items.

“Now are we dead?” Honda yelled anxiously, and no one but Yugi heard him as a familiar blinding light flooded the room, causing everyone’s eyes to sting and their bodies to sweat.

A strange, hollow tone rang in everyone’s ears before it all grew quiet, and they found themselves staring at each other, safely back in their own bodies and standing right where they had been before, but with one key difference: a second Yugi.

A Yugi with wilder hair and narrow violet eyes was standing apprehensively beside another Yugi, with a round, friendly face.

“Aibou, it worked,” Yami said warmly, completely unaware that the entire room was gaping at them shocked into silence. “You’re back in your own body!”

Kaiba blinked rapidly, thoroughly amazed, and fighting a series of conflicting emotions.

True indeed.

Everyone was back in their own bodies...but somehow, the Other Yugi had managed to obtain a body too!

This man, who looked exactly like Yugi, standing beside Yugi, walking and talking like Yugi, was real, right? This was him, right?

This was...the Other Yugi!

—————————— END ——————————

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

#yugioh fanfiction #writing #accomplishment #yugioh #ygo #10 writers writing together

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neraawritesxx · 6 years

Text

Clemency

Written for KakaSaku Month - Day 1

pairing: kakashi x sakura; implied obito x rin event prompt: summer // rainstorms additional prompt: you buy an obscene number of flowers, and i’m concerned as to why genre: romance // light angst // slice of life word count: 5,250

summary: The first time Sakura meets him, it’s a week after her roommate has died.

a/n: This is extremely late? Like days upon days late. It took me forever to finish, but I’m happy with the end result. Maybe now I can start my other prompts? Lol. Either way, I hope you all enjoy!

note: This work is unbeta’ed so any mistakes are my own.

“It’s starting to rain,” Ino murmurs nonchalantly.

Sakura gives a noncommittal grunt in response, eyes never straying from the flower arrangement in front of her. Blindly, she sifts through the pile of loose blooms that reside on the countertop next to her, choosing a long-stemmed daisy and a row of baby’s breath.

Slowly, meticulously, she snips both stems with her shears, making sure that the floras are at the right length before placing them in the vase. Sakura watches how they fall with a critical eye, moving them into more favorable positions that accentuate the piece then, repeats the processes with the remaining buds.

The flower shop is quiet for a while after that, both girls distracted by their work, the patter of rainfall echoing against the window display.

It’s Ino who eventually breaks their silence.

“I wonder if your friend is going to stop by today.”

“Don’t you have a wedding centerpiece to put together?” Sakura pointedly inquires, though there is no real hostility behind her tone.

Jade eyes shift to look at the clock hanging on the opposite wall before sliding back to the blonde.

“Besides,” Sakura adds. “Even if he were to make an appearance, I won’t be around to see him. You know what today is. I have to leave in a half hour.”

Ino perks up for a moment, eyes wide as sudden comprehension dawns. The fair-haired woman smiles, a sad, half-hearted curl of her lips that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as cobalt hues settle on the decorative bouquet Sakura is putting together.

Ino hums. “I almost forgot,” she states gently. “I should have realized when you took out all of the daisies we had in stock.”

Sakura releases a soft chuckle, turning back to her project. “It’s alright. Just come over here and help me. I don’t want to be late.”

-o-

The first time Sakura meets him, it’s a week after her roommate has died.

Ino insists that she take more time off from the shop, it’s not their busy season, and her best friend maintains that she is more than capable of covering both of their shifts. Sakura turns her down, however, preferring to hide her misery behind forced smiles and menial conversations with their customers.

It takes her mind off of it, helps her forget the pain. If only for a little while.

The rain is heavy that day, pounding unrelentingly against the sidewalk, leaving vast puddles in its wake and forcing most people indoors.

Sakura doesn’t hear him when he enters the shop. Their air conditioner is broken, and they are forced to battle the pungent, sticky haze caused by the weather by keeping the front door open. There is no breeze, but the air that does trickle into the store is cool, despite the humidity.

He slips in while she is distracted, re-reading old text messages from her dearly departed friend.

Sakura likes to think that scouring through old conversations, recounting memories, helps her cope. It’s enjoyable, for the time being, until she reaches the last messages that were sent in their chat thread.

Rin N. (8:24 PM): We’re leaving Obito’s in a minute.

Rin N. (8:25 PM): Promise me that you’ll at least consider going to dinner with Kakashi.

Rin N. (8:25 PM): He’s cute! I know you’ll like him.

Sakura H. (8:26 PM): You’re so worried about my love life! Lol. Focus on your own!

Sakura H. (8:27 PM): But, I will think about it. Okay, Rin?

Sakura H. (8:27 PM): I’ll let you know where my head’s at after I meet him tonight.

Sakura H. (8:28 PM): What’s your ETA?

He clears his throat then, startling her and Sakura’s head shoots up to find him standing a few paces back from the counter. He’s tall, lanky, and has a messy mop of silver hair that sticks out at a bunch of awkward, different angles.

She can’t tell much beyond that.

There is a strip of black cloth over the left side of his face and a hospital mask of the same color covering from the middle of his nose, down. The latter doesn’t surprise her all that much. Most customers with unmanageable pollen allergies tend to cover their faces before venturing into the shop.

The other fabric, however, is somewhat daunting.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not looking at her, and it takes Sakura a moment to realize that she has forgone a formal greeting, and instead, has been blatantly staring at him.

“Oh,” she says. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry. It’s just one of those days; I can’t help but find myself distracted. Welcome to Yamanaka Flowers. What can I get for you today?”

The new arrival doesn’t immediately say anything, gazing at a fixed point over Sakura’s right shoulder. Another full minute passes before he brings himself to look at her, and when he does, Sakura can’t help but flinch.

He looks…haggard.

Or, at least, that’s what she can make out from the small patch of skin available for inspection.

His lone eye is sunken in, rimmed with the purplish discoloration that comes from extensive lack of sleep. When she gives him another once over, Sakura also notes that he is wearing far too many layers for the season. Despite inclement weather, it’s still summertime in Konoha. The rain could stop in an hour, giving way to the bright, unforgiving rays of the sun. She doesn’t think someone who is dressed in a baggy, mismatching sweat suit would be comfortable when that time came around.

She doesn’t get to explore his fashion choices or how fatigued he looks any further. He decides to speak then, stating, “Hyacinths.”

His request is a raspy croak, muffled behind the material of his mask, and Sakura has no difficulty trying to make out the word.

She blinks, though, somewhat perplexed.

Was that it?

It wasn’t the first time a customer has come in with a specific request, but it was the first time Sakura has dealt with one so vague.

“Ah, okay.” She steps down from the stool she is perched upon, crossing the room towards the refrigerated display. “Um, do you have a preference for the color? Or the amount? We offer small or large bouquets. We’re actually running a sale right now. If you purchase a full bouquet, you can get another for half th–”

“A purple hyacinth,” He cuts in before she could further explain. “Just one.”

“…Just one?” She parrots, confused.

Odd request indeed.

Against her wishes, Ino’s voice pipes up in the back of Sakura’s head, babbling on about the language of flowers.

A purple hyacinth can say many things.

‘I am sorry.’

‘Please forgive me.’

‘I am filled with sorrow.’

At his curt nod, Sakura pulls her cutting sears from the pocket of her apron and snips at a particularly robust hyacinth in the middle of the display. Pulling the flower free, she sets out to intricately wrap the floret with white wrapping paper, tying everything together with a piece of violet twine.

“Here you go,” she declares, holding the bundle out across the counter.

He takes it carefully, and Sakura becomes immediately aware that he is trying to avoid touching her as he extracts it from her grip, his free hand digging into his pants pocket.

“You total is three dollars and tw–” Sakura doesn’t get to finish her statement. In the time it takes her to punch his order into the register, he has already placed a five-dollar bill on the counter and is halfway out the door.

“Hey! Wait! You’re forgetting your change!”

He either doesn’t hear her or chooses to ignore her, because he doesn’t stop, disappearing right out into the rain.

Sakura sits back with a click of her tongue, eyes flicking between the front door and the money that has been set on the counter. She tries to chalk up the oddity of the entire experience as a one-time deal, something that happens every now and again.

The whole situation doesn’t sit well with her for the rest of the shift and remains at the forefront of her mind well into the next day. When she tells Ino about it, the blonde brushes off it off, citing that he was just a loon of a customer and they were bound to get a few of those now and again.

Despite her friend trying to placate her, Sakura still couldn’t help but wonder, just what had he done to be asking for forgiveness?

-o-

Sakura doesn’t see that strange man again for another month.

It’s raining that day also, but it is more of a sun shower than actual rainfall, a quick drizzle to combat the insufferable heat.

They still haven’t gotten the air conditioner fixed, and Ino moans about how her hair is going to frizz. Sakura doesn’t mind all that much. She likes the feel of the wind when it blows through the open door; relishes in the sights, the smells, and the sounds that it brings along with it.

That day though, Sakura’s lethargic and she cannot bring herself to enjoy much of anything.

Obito visited her earlier that afternoon, Chinese takeout in tow. They talk, exchanging as many pleasantries as two people who have lost someone very dear can. She tries her best to avoid the topic altogether, but Sakura has always been curious, and her inquisitive nature has seemed to have gotten the better of her recently.

The scar covering the right half his face is a messy and daunting reminder, and Sakura can’t help but gaze at it when Obito isn’t paying attention. Or, at least, she thought he hadn’t been paying attention. He catches her staring about halfway through their meal and brushes off her hasty attempts at an apology.

He makes some ambiguous joke about how he and his roommate – a man who she has still yet to meet – now have matching deformed faces. Something about how they can use it in the future as a pick-up line.

Sakura tries to laugh along with him, but she knows her smile is strained and Obito’s chuckles are empty and lifeless.

They still don’t address the elephant in the room, and it’s not soon after that he takes his leave, promising to visit her sometime in the upcoming week.

Sakura is alone for about an hour, trying to distract herself with tidying up around the shop. This time, she hears him when he enters, but that is only because he nearly trips over terracotta pot she has removed from the front display while cleaning.

“Oh my god!” Sakura exclaims, scrambling to her feet. She pushes the potted plant back into its rightful place, rubbing her dirty hands along her apron, while stating, “I am so sorry. Are you alright?”

He grunts his assent, righting himself, but says nothing.

When he turns to regard her, his breath leaves him in a soft ‘whoosh,’ and there is a strange straightening of his spine. He looks shocked to see her and Sakura can accurately make that deduction because, not only is his lone charcoal eye impossibly wide as he looks at her, but this time, he has foregone the mask, mouth parted in a small, stupefied ‘o.’

“Oh,” she breathes, trying not to be enticed by his strong jawline or the mole that decorates his chin. “It’s you.”

Her comment seems to snap him out of his stupor, and he collects himself, arching one dark brow in silent question. Sakura smiles despite his self-imposed muteness and walks behind the counter.

“I was wondering if you were going to come back,” she says, opening the cash register. Sakura pulls out an envelope from one of the slots in the drawer, holding it out towards him. “You forgot your change the last time you were here.”

He takes a step closer to the countertop, eye flickering between her face and the packet in her hands. The silence that envelopes the store for the next few moments is uncomfortable, and just when Sakura thinks that he isn’t going to take the proffered package, he quickly snatches it from her grasp.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and Sakura can’t help but be distracted by the movement of his mouth, by the deep tenor of his voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

The corner of Sakura’s mouth kicks up, and she brushes off his acknowledgment with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s no big deal. We don’t like to overcharge our customers here and with that being said, what can I get for you today?”

His answer is immediate. “White tulips. A dozen.” He hesitates for a second, then adds, “Please.”

Sakura nods, a small smirk playing on her lips, and ventures into the back room where they kept more extensive stock of the commonly purchased flowers. As she’s putting together the garlands per his request, Sakura can’t help but allow her mind to wander to the meaning behind the blooms he chose.

‘White tulips are used to claim worthiness,’ Ino had said. ‘Or to send a message of forgiveness. Depends on what circumstances you’re buying them for.’

When Sakura returns to the front of the shop, the odd customer is hunched down on the opposite side of the counter, staring at the rather impressive selection of Ino’s imported sword lilies.

“What are these?” he asks, fingers pressed against the glass.

“They’re called Gladiolus. They mean strength and integrity. We got the shipment in this week, just in time for the summer season.”

He nods absentmindedly while standing, reaching into his jeans to extract his wallet. “How much for one of those, along with the rest of them?”

Sakura preens, thinking about how she is going to rub it in Ino’s face that she sold one of her precious flowers before her. It takes Sakura another minute to prepare the additional bud with soft wrappings, but when she’s finished, she places it and the other bouquet on the countertop in front of him.

Quick, deft fingers punch his order into the register and Sakura chirps, “That’ll be fourteen dollars and fifty-three cents.”

Much like their first interaction, by the time the words are out of her mouth, there is money on the counter and he is already out the door.

Unlike their last meeting, however, he leaves Sakura with a twenty-dollar bill and the exotic lily he had purchased last minute.

-o-

It’s three weeks before his next visit.

It’s not raining that day, but the sky is dark with the promise of an impending storm. Sakura is out visiting Sai and Naruto on her lunch break when he comes into the store.

Not only does she get an earful about the ‘really odd, yet totally hot’ customer from Ino when she gets back, but she also finds that he left a single, pink carnation behind.

“It was weird,” Ino states while putting together a bridal shower arraignment. “He bought almost two dozen striped carnations. That caught his eye last minute, and he insisted on buying it, only to leave it here.”

Sakura can’t help but smile for the rest of the day.

-o-

The interval between that visit and his next is extremely short; only five days.

The heavens have opened; lightning streaks across the sky and thunder reverberates throughout the store, leaving Sakura to try and drown out the resonances with soft music from Ino’s stereo.

The welcoming chime of the bell above the door signals his arrival, and as Sakura looks up, she can’t help but grin.

“Long time no see,” she greets.

He’s not looking at her, but she knows he heard her. His one eye is trained on the single, bubblegum pink carnation sitting in a vase next to the register.

“Ino said you left it here,” Sakura finds herself explaining. She doesn’t really know why. “It was already cut, and I didn’t want to see it go to waste. I figured it would be a cute decoration.”

He gives a short bob of his head, and the very corner of his mouth curls up for just a moment. It’s not a smile, it’s more like a simple twitch of movement, but it’s something, and Sakura feels her heart stutter at the sight of it.

“I’m glad it made it into the right hands, then,” he starts, finally looking up at her from under a frame of dark lashes. “Anemones, please. Just two.”

Sakura puts together his order as specified, trying to blame the rising heat in her cheeks on the fact that they still have yet to get the air conditioner repaired. She can’t help but wonder what’s hidden underneath that strip of black cloth, about what exactly his face looks like without the obscurity.

“I also don’t have your change from last time,” she calls out as she’s wrapping the flowerets in paper that’s a shade darker than her hair. “Ino mucked up the cash one day and used it to break another customer’s bigger bill.”

He shrugs, seemingly nonplussed by the news.

They finish up their transaction quickly after that. This time he gives Sakura the exact amount of money, down to the penny and offers her a small wave as he makes his way out the door.

“See you soon,” he bids in farewell and Sakura can’t help but beam and wave after him.

-o-

He has a funny definition of ‘soon’ because Sakura doesn’t see him again for another four months.

That’s not to say he doesn’t come into the store, because he does, but summer has given way to fall, and school has started again, taking up most of Sakura’s free time and leaving her with only a handful of shifts at the shop.

Ino informs her of his appearances and proceeds to make fun of Sakura as her eyes light up with the new information. He sometimes leaves her a flower, sometimes he forgets his change, and sometimes he does neither, but his visits never cease.

Sakura brushes off Ino’s teasing, citing that it is not a crush. She does not have a crush on a customer. It is intrigue. Despite his noticeably handsome looks, Sakura is more interested in the mystery behind that mask. Ino doesn’t believe her.

Sakura tries to think up different scenarios in her head, formulating a plan to ask him for his name in the least creepy way possible. Ino joins her in plotting, only because he has yet to use a credit card, and the fair-haired woman is damn curious herself. They giggle maniacally as they come up with different ideas, and for the first time in a long while, Sakura finds herself looking forward to something.

When she finally does see him again, though, Sakura is in a horrid mood and asking for his name is the furthest thing from her mind.

Obito called a few minutes prior wanting to discuss a few things about Rin. They had gotten better at talking. More specifically, they had gotten better at talking about her. Obito stopped looking like he about to burst into tears at the mention of Rin’s name, and Sakura, well, she felt a little less hollow.

The friendly formalities didn’t last long because Obito informed her that he wanted to come to the apartment and clean out some of Rin’s things; keep some for himself, put some in storage, and throw out whatever was left.

Sakura vehemently refused.

‘Damn it, Sakura! It’s been months!’ he yells in her ear. ‘I don’t know who is worse, you or Kakashi! I miss her too but clinging to all of her stuff like this is toxic. She’s gone, and as much as it kills me to say it, she is never coming back. We need to get rid of some of it. We need to move on.’

If Obito really missed Rin, he wouldn’t be throwing out her belongings. Sakura tells him as much.

That seems to do the trick because his tone is much quieter when he addresses her again.

‘We’ve been going to grief counseling, Kakashi and I. The therapist says that doing this is a step in the right direction. That things will get better. I…,’ His voice cracks on the other end of the phone. ‘I need to get better. It fucking hurts, and I’m tired of it. You and Kakashi need to stop blaming yourselves. It’s nobody's fault; it was an accident. And we all need to try and move on. I’m doing this, with or without you there.’

Because she is sick of being compared to and roped together with a man she has never met.

Because she doesn’t want to think about how that night was her idea and they would have never gotten into the car if she wasn’t so insistent on them picking her up.

Because she feels physically ill due to their discussion.

And just because she is fucking pissed off that Obito is dropping this on her out of the blue, Sakura hangs up on him.

Obito tries to call her back twice. She lets both calls ring until her voicemail kicks in. He doesn’t try to call her a third time.

Sakura doesn’t turn towards the door when she hears it open, nor does she grant the new customer any attention when she feels their presence draw near the counter.

It is one of the rare occasions that she and Ino are working the same shift, and her best friend – bless her big, goofy heart – heard the entire argument and knew that Sakura is nowhere near capable of talking to anyone at that moment. She interjects with, “Welcome to Yamanaka Flowers. What can I get for you today?”

“Sunflowers,” a very familiar voice demands.

Ino must not have been paying all that much attention to who walked in either, because there is a long, drawn-out silence followed by a sudden shift as Ino scrambles to stand from her stool.

“Hello again,” Sakura hears Ino comment. It sounds more like an excited purr. Ino is laying it on too thick, but Sakura can tell that she is just excited by the prospect of finally getting his name. “Do you want a bouquet or just a specific amount like two or three?”

“I don’t care,” he snaps impatiently. “Just…just give me whatever you can…please.”

The ‘please’ is a last-minute addition that is used to try and take the edge off of his command, but it doesn’t work. Sakura can feel Ino’s irritation from where she is sitting, and when she finally drags her eyes towards the register, the mysterious customer and Ino are glaring each other down.

His expression is thunderous, but Ino’s irritated scowl gives him a run for his money. The young Yamanaka tosses the bundle of flowers on the countertop unceremoniously, uncaring about her lack of social propriety.

He doesn’t even ask for a total, slapping money on the counter without any concern to if it is over or under the correct amount. He takes a step back, quickly glancing in Sakura’s direction before pausing. His gaze feels piercing, like it’s picking her apart from the inside out and looking into her very soul. It carries far too much weight, too much pain and anguish, and it makes Sakura want to squirm in her seat.

In a flurry of movement that neither she nor Ino could follow, he rips one of the sunflowers from its intricate packaging, tosses it onto the counter and turns to the exit, slamming the door as he leaves.

For the next twenty minutes, Sakura half-heartedly listens to Ino gripe and groan about the entire ordeal.

“What a dick,” Ino seethes. “I don’t care if he was in a bad mood, he didn’t have to be so rude about it.”

Sakura hums her agreement, staring at the sunflower in her grasp. She runs her fingers along the stem gently, plucking a single, loose petal free and twirling it between her fingers

The meaning behind them hits her suddenly, like a punch to the gut.

“Loyalty…,” she mumbles under her breath. Her visions blurs as she sighs dejectedly, “…Rin…”

Ino stops, mid-rant, casting Sakura a confused glance. The blonde’s befuddled expression doesn’t last long, her face contorting into a worried frown almost immediately.

“Forehead,” Ino starts, cautiously. “Are you alright?”

It’s only then that Sakura realizes that she’s crying.

-o-

She doesn’t see him again after that and Sakura tries not to dwell on it.

Instead, she throws herself into her work, school, and friends. Focusing all of her attention on bettering herself; on growing, on learning, and on healing. At first, she does it as more of an avoidance tactic, but after an extended visit to Rin’s grave, Sakura comes to terms with the fact that she genuinely isn’t coping as well as she thought.

Something needs to change.

She needs to change.

So, when Obito comes by her apartment later that week to clean out Rin’s things, she joins him.

They spend the better part of the next two days going through all of Rin’s stuff, laughing and crying and reminiscing as they poke and prod through different shelves, piles, and drawers.

After it’s all over, Obito hugs her; a bone-crushing embrace that expresses his sadness and relief and a whole other maelstrom of emotions that Sakura cannot bring herself to try and grasp.

“We’ll be alright,” she hums in his ear, trying to fight off the pinprick of tears in her eyes. He pulls her even closer as she repeats, “We’ll be alright.”

They would be.

-o-

“Are you sure you’re okay with us coming with you?” Naruto asks for the third time that day.

Before Sakura can soothe her friend’s fears, Sasuke answers for her, “Yes, Dobe. Stop asking. Her answer hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes, or are you hard of hearing?”

Naruto shoots Sasuke a dark look but doesn’t rise to the taunt. He instead focuses his attention on the arrangement of daisies in his hand.

“This bouquet is really pretty Sakura-chan,” he compliments with a board grin. “I’m sure Rin would love it.”

“Me too,” Sakura chirps with a smile. She skips on ahead of them, slipping through the iron gates of the cemetery with relative ease.

It’s officially been a year since Rin’s passing and, though, most days it’s still a difficult thing to think about, the wound is no longer fresh. It’s more of a dull ache rather than a festering, scalding burn and Sakura is finding it easier to address openly.

She and Obito have been in contact with one another quite frequently, but her new admission into medical school and his demanding family obligations keep them from meeting as often as they would prefer. That doesn’t stop him from checking in on her at least once a week, and it also helps that he bullied Sasuke and Naruto into looking after her. As smothering as all three of them can sometimes be, Sakura is still warmed by the gesture.

“Will you stop bouncing around?” Sasuke says. “You’re going to give me a headache.”

Sakura sticks her tongue out at him. “I’m excited,” she clarifies. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to visit Rin. Plus, Obito said he is going to meet us there. I haven’t seen him in ages!”

“Leave her alone, Teme. We’re Sakura-chan’s guest today, so lighten up!”

Sasuke grumbles something under his breath that neither of them can catch but says nothing to refute Naruto’s reprimand.

They travel the rest of the way in companionable silence, and it’s not long before the trio is wandering down a familiar isle of gravestones. At the end of the row, standing in front of a large memorial, are two men.

Whatever Obito’s cheerful salutation is, it falls on deaf ears as Sakura attention is honed in on the male standing next to him.

He appears the same; the same hairstyle, same odd, yet seemingly comfortable fashion sense. But, he doesn’t look as tired.

He looks more firm, solid, like he dealt with whatever had been weighing him down.

He also had foregone his usual facial coverings, and for the first time since she met him all those months ago, Sakura gets a full view of his face. He is just as tragically beautiful as she expected him to be, even more so with the large scar dissecting his left eye.

Obito catches her gaping and chuckles. “I forgot you two still haven’t met. Kakashi, this is Sakura. Sakura this is my best friend slash roomie Kakashi.”

“It’s good to see you again,” her mysterious customer – Kakashi – greets, hand extended.

Sakura smiles, enveloping his outstretched hand with her own. “Likewise.”

The three other men in the crowd blink, casting them varying speculative glances.

Their handshake extends past what could be considered socially acceptable and when he finally pulls away, Kakashi seems hesitant about letting Sakura go, fingers skimming the inside of her palm.

Sakura is sure that Sasuke catches the caress, and is almost positive that Obito does too, because both of their eyes narrow fractionally.

Naruto, ever the bravely uncloth, inquires, “Wait…You two already know each other already?”

-o-

“Did you know?” She asks him sometime later.

After their visit to Rin’s grave is concluded, Naruto suggested grabbing a bite to eat, which everyone, except for Sasuke, readily agreed to.

Kakashi turns to address her, shaking his head. “Not at first,” he says. “Obito came across a picture of you two when he was boxing up some of Rin’s stuff at our apartment. He showed me, but I didn’t put two and two together until after I came to the shop for the second time. Not many girls in Konoha have naturally pink hair.”

Sakura blushes, fingering a wayward cherry strand as she nods slowly. There’s a short pause and then she queries, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer immediately and glances away from her, choosing to instead focus his attention on Obito and Naruto, both of whom were trying to see who could finish their bowl of ramen first. Sasuke watched on with an expression of muted horror.

“I didn’t think it was proper,” Kakashi eventually comments. “I was going through some stuff. We were all going through some stuff. Given the circumstances that they were trying to get us to meet originally, it really didn’t seem right for me to push that on you suddenly.”

It was now Sakura’s turn to be quiet as she processed the new information she was given. Kakashi didn’t seem to mind her silence, focusing on finishing off his meal while she mulled over his words.

“I think you’re right,” she starts a few minutes later. “I wouldn’t have handled it well, not with everything going on since the accident.”

Sakura stops to release a deep breath before continuing. “But, I’d like to think that I’m in a better place now and that’s thanks to things I’ve learned from Obito, from Rin, from you. And I’m not…not sure how’d you feel about it, but maybe…would you maybe want to get coffee sometime?”

Before he can respond to her question, the following words are out of her mouth in a jumbled rush, “It doesn’t have to be anything like that. It just would be nice, you know? To talk and stuff…to get to know someone who was important to Rin.”

He gives her a lazy smile; it’s fuller, bigger than the one that made her heart skip a beat that day in the store.

It steals her breath away.

“I’d like that.”

139 notes · View notes

thomasblanky-moved · 6 years

Text

albert receives a letter in 1886. he is forty-two years old, and he cannot read.

he recognizes his name on the front of the envelope, the shape of the letters written in a cramped hand, unsteady as if by shaking fingers. he drags his fingers over the dried ink, albert d.j. cashier, feels the indentations they make on the paper.

“posted from belvidere,” joshua muses when albert hands the letter over to him, wanting to know what it said. “you must’ve left there, what, ten years ago, now? didn’t know you still had friends there.”

“eleven,” albert corrects, almost off-handedly, “and i don’t.”

“well, apparently you do.” joshua chesbro was only a decade or so albert’s elder but he squints hard at the envelope. “says its from a, uh, mister jeffrey davis.”

albert’s breath catches, his heart lodged in his throat. this had to have been some cruel joke; jeff wouldn’t have known how to find him, and even if he did, why? why now, after two decades apart, and why a letter? he’d known that albert couldn’t read, had pried that shameful secret from him same as he had done the rest.

“what.. what’s it say?”

joshua levels him a measuring look over the top of his reading glasses, seems to be looking for something, before he says, “it looks to be some sort of invitation.

so albert packs his things- a single bag, he doesn’t own much and doesn’t plan to be gone long- and asks joshua to watch his house, and boards a train for belvidere.

he asks around with the address that had been scrawled at the foot of the letter and finds himself on the step of a neat brick townhouse in the heart of downtown. he feels suddenly too shabby to be here, too wretched, and he desperately wants to run.

his heard thunders in his chest as he pounds the bronze knocker against the door.

footsteps creak from inside and he holds his breath until the door swings open. on the other side is a small blonde woman, perhaps about his age, pretty even with the grey in her hair and the lines around her eyes. she looks him over, dark gaze sharp and piercing.

“may i help you, sir?” her voice is pleasant, one small hand pressed against the door. they are of a height, but albert feels very, very small.

perhaps this was all a mistake.

“i, um,” and, lord, when was the last time he was at a loss for words. “i received a letter, telling me to come. here, that is. from jeff davis.”

understanding dawns at once over her features and she opens the door wider, allowing him inside. it was a modest home, but fine for what it was, and the woman fit in perfectly with her nice dress and neatly pinned hair. though her expression had flooded with comprehension, she was no warmer for it.

“you must be mister cashier, then,” she says, gesturing for him to follow as she walks down the hall. “jeff’s been lookin’ forward to your visit. it’s good that you didn’t let him down.”

the again goes unspoken, and albert’s stomach drops to his feet.

“my name is betty davis,” she continues, as she opens the doors to a sitting room, cozy with an unlit fireplace, the curtains drawn to allow light from the street to flood the room. “jeff is my husband. he’s in his study, now; i’ll fetch him in just a moment.”

her husband. betty turns, her skirts swirling about her ankles as she sweeps out of the room, and albert is left staring after her. she was a force of nature, that one; he wasn’t sure how to feel, elated that jeffrey had found someone to love or betrayed that it wasn’t him.

albert presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and breathes in deep. he wonders if there’s still time to slip out, unnoticed.

“not this time, al,” he mutters to himself. “you can’t run from him again.”

he could, though. he’s been running all his life- what would once more be? what could it hurt him?

“albert?”

a great deal, as it turned out.

he turns slowly and all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the way his breaths whooshes in and out of his lungs. the scrape of his shoes across the floor sounds terribly loud.

jeff is standing in the doorway, unchanged by the years save for a few small details: the gray at his temples, the smile lines on his face, the glasses perched on his nose, the cane he leans on. albert feels sick with the riot of feelings inside of him, seeing jeff here for the first time in twenty years, whole and well and not lean with war.

“jeffrey,” albert breathes, and he hates how off-kilter he is, how shaken.he had made it a matter of fact to remain unshaken no matter what was thrown his way, but jeff had always had a way of brushing away his plans like dust to the wind.

albert could admit that he was scared. he’d known jeff in many ways- as a boyishly handsome enlistee, as a scared young soldier, as a desperate and lovelorn man- but not like this, a man who had made his way in the world, a man who had found his happiness and his family.

it made him ache, down to his bones.

“you’re really here.” jeff’s smile is slow in coming, almost hesitant, but as sweet and beautiful as albert had remembered and, oh, he didn’t deserve this, these thoughts or jeff’s kindness, not after the way he’d treated him. “i wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.”

“i almost didn’t,” albert says baldly, and his voice cracks halfway through. “i can’t read, jeff, y’know that. i almost stayed in saunemin, safe and snug.”

“but you didn’t,” jeff says, and the hope in his eyes and in his voice tears terribly at albert’s heart. his footsteps across the floor are uneven and limping, his cane thumping against the hardwood. “you came, al. you’re here.”

they are close, now, a scant foot or less between them, and albert’s breath stutters as jeff raises a hand, brushes his fingers tenderly over his cheek. he smells of some faint cologne, but under that the same simple lye soap, the same smell that had always been only his own.

“i’m here,” albert agrees, and lets his eyes flutter shut as jeff’s smile grows, something horribly tender swelling in his chest.

#coac #coac fic #the civility of albert cashier #civility of albert cashier #mine

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robronsecretvalentine · 6 years

Text

Happy Robron Valentine’s, @memorieswarm! I’m so glad I got to write something for you, so here is a fic about Robert and Aaron and a day in their future where they are happy. I hope you enjoy it!

PSA: Cuddling is involved.

Robert doesn’t know what drags him out from beneath the dark veil of sleep, but he opens his eyes anyway, slowly, bracing himself. The bedroom is the colour of a stormy sky, hues of blue and grey and with long shadows on the floor. It must be early - too early for him to start his day so instead, he presses his cheek back into his pillow, taking in the smell of musky sheets as he moves, finding the perfect position to sleep.

His arm is wrapped around Aaron under their duvet, hand splayed on Aaron’s muscular stomach so he can feel Aaron inhale and exhale, deep and calming. If he moves his hand a few inches up he would feel Aaron’s heart, that steady thumping rhythm that dictates Robert’s happiness more than anything else in the world. Instead he moves closer to Aaron, presses his nose into the base of Aaron’s neck, kissing a spot between his shoulder blades and breathing him in. He smells of sex and the washing powder they use and so distinctly of Aaron it fills Robert’s chest with warmth, a certainty in his belly that he is home. With his husband’s calming presence in front of him and a few deep breaths, Robert closes his eyes and slowly drifts back to sleep.

“Mornin’,” Robert hears. Aaron’s voice is gruff and heavy with sleep but it’s enough to make Robert resurface, open his eyes slightly.

“Morning,” he replies. Aaron’s lying inches from his face, curls soft against the pillow, small smile on his lips. His stubble is neatly trimmed and Robert still has the memory of it against his skin from last night, and he is smiling. Robert’s still got his arms around Aaron’s waist so he pulls him closer until they are lying chest to chest. They are both naked and Robert can feel Aaron pressing against his stomach, and he knows Aaron can feel the same.

“You’re insatiable,” Aaron says with a chuckle.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been gone for a week and now you’re right here…” Robert says, leaning in and pressing a slow kiss to Aaron’s lips. Aaron smiles into it, takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose against Robert’s cheek.

“Sleep alright?” Aaron asks when they pull away. Robert stares into his eyes, electric blue and gorgeous against their dark blue sheets.

“Yeah,” he says. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” Aaron says. “Next work trip you go on can’t be more than three days, or I’m divorcing you.”

“Deal,” Robert says. He yawns; they didn’t get a lot of sleep after Robert got back last night.

“Should I have let you sleep last night?” Aaron asks with a grin.

“No,” Robert replies immediately. They’re both smiling and the February sun is streaming in through the window, warm and comforting. After a week on a too-hard hotel bed and no Aaron, lying here feels all the more wonderful, a part of his day he hadn’t realised how important was to his happiness, not until he went without.

Aaron is trailing an indistinct pattern on Robert’s back with his fingers, sliding along his spine and feeling the muscle on either side. Robert might be insatiable but Aaron is far from unaffected.

“Liv texted me, said she was leaving us to it today. She’s already gone to school, I heard her leave.”

“What time is it?” Robert asks. If Liv’s already gone that must mean -

“It’s past 9, but I let you sleep in a bit. Thought you deserved it,” Aaron says. They are lying practically nose to nose and Robert can’t help but trace over the familiar curves and angles of Aaron’s face with his eyes - his beautiful husband is lying right here, smiling and warm and naked under their duvet. .

“Don’t you need to get to work?” Robert asks.

“Took the day off,” Aaron says. He moves, turns so he is lying on his back and Robert shifts closer to rest his head on Aaron’s chest. “Wanted to see you.”

Robert wraps his arms around him and squeezes. “I love you,” he says. It’s simple now, a year after they got back together. He no longer has to hide it, pretend the want and love in his chest isn’t there. He can just acknowledge it freely, stating the one constant truth in his life without compunction. Aaron kisses his forehead before he says: “I love you too.”

Robert takes a deep breath and watches as the hair on Aaron’s chest moves on his exhale; he lifts his hand, traces across Aaron’s chest with his fingers and watches as Aaron’s muscles lift and dip with the breaths he takes. If Robert is really quiet he can hear Aaron’s heart beating. Instead he trails his index finger up to Aaron’s nipple, lightly grazing. Aaron flinches.

“Oi,” he says, catching Robert’s hand with his own. Robert’s grinning and he knows he must look sheepish because Aaron is grinning right back.

“Fine,” Robert concedes. Instead he wraps his arm around Aaron again, kisses his chest just where Robert’s head is resting. These are the mornings he can’t get enough of, the mornings where he just gets to breathe Aaron in, hold him, love him. “What do you want to do today?” he asks.

Aaron lets out a sigh while he says: “Dunno… hadn’t really planned anything.”

“What about we start with breakfast?” Robert asks.

“Sounds good,” Aaron replies, his voice playful. “You’re cooking though.”

“Fine,” Robert replies. “But first,” he adds before moving, lying on top of Aaron with his thighs on either side of him. He looks into Aaron’s eyes and see them darken as comprehension dawns and Aaron presses up against him, teasing and leading him to press back down all in one movement.

“But first,” Aaron repeats and soon Aaron has his hand wrapped around the both of them.

Aaron’s clearly been shopping; the fridge is stocked with eggs, bacon, tomatoes, sausages, the lot.

“Figured you would want a full english after a week away,” Aaron says, sitting by the kitchen table in his bathrobe. Robert’s wearing one of Aaron’s t-shirts and a pair of pyjama bottoms as he makes them both a cup of coffee.

“I appreciate it,” Robert says, “even if I am the one who gets to cook it.” He’s leaning against the counter as the machine hums. Aaron’s hair is a bit of a mess, he has a bruise on the base of his neck from earlier and Robert can’t help but smile.

“I always mess up the tomatoes, don’t I?” Aaron says with a grin on his face. The machine stops humming and Robert brings Aaron’s cup over to him, sets it down in front of him on the table before leaning down until their faces are inches apart.

“Lucky you’re so fit,” he whispers. Aaron’s smile disappears as he bites his lip and Robert moves in to take that lip between his own.

Aaron’s eyes shine as Robert pulls away. “I guess it is.”

Robert gets started on the sausages and pre-heats the oven, before taking out the beans and chucking them in a pot.

“Anything interesting happen while I was away?” Robert asks.

“You are such a gossip,” Aaron teases. Robert halves the tomatoes and doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

“Nothing happen, then?”

“Actually, Charity and Vanessa decided to move in together,” Aaron says

“I knew that,” Robert counters, “Vanessa called me about it two days ago.”

Aaron snorts. “I’ll never understand your friendship,” he says. Robert freezes.

“What, don’t think I can get along with anyone?”

“I know you can, but didn’t think it would be the village vet,” Aaron says.

“She’s great, once you get to know her.” Robert turns around and sees Aaron’s surly expression. “You still mad at her for Christmas?”

Aaron feigns incredulity but Robert knows him better than that. “I am not,” Aaron says.

“Yes, you are!” Robert says, pointing at him with the serrated tomato knife - “We don’t need a knife for tomatoes!” Aaron had said. “You say that to me next time you dice tomatoes and we have this,” Robert countered. - “You definitely haven’t forgiven her what she said.”

“I -” Aaron tries but in the end he concedes. “Fine, but I don’t think she should be telling me to take you out more, treat you better.”

“I knew it!” Robert says. “It was a joke, obviously!”

Aaron gives him a look that tells Robert he needs to stop talking to he does, sighing as he turns around to flip the bacon. “Anyway, Charity and Noah are moving into Vanessa’s place. I promised Mum to lend a hand in clearing out their rooms in the pub this weekend, want to join?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Robert says. He cracks the eggs into the frying pan and places the tomatoes on a hot griddle pan. “Tea?”

“Ta,” Aaron replies. “I’ll sort that, you keep your eyes on the food.”

Robert smirks playfully at him. “Finally working for your meal,” he jokes.

Aaron simply scoffs.

They move around the kitchen seamlessly, Aaron sorting the tea and toast while Robert plates everything out and sets the plates on the table. By the time they sit down they are both starving, and they dig in immediately. It doesn’t take long before the plates are empty and Robert is leaning back in his chair, a hand around his cup as he relaxes.

“It’s good to be home,” he says. Aaron smiles, leans forward and places his hand palm up on the table. Robert puts his hand in Aaron’s and intertwines their fingers, relishing the feeling of Aaron’s rough palm against his hand.

“It’s good to have you home.”

They help each other with the dishes, Aaron doing the washing while Robert hold the tea towel. It’s easy, domestic. Liv would be making vomiting noises as the work but she isn’t here so Robert gets to enjoy it all the more. As Aaron is cleaning the last pan Robert wraps his arms around his waist, rests his head on Aaron’s shoulder.

“What now?” he asks.

Aaron turns his head and gives Robert a kiss; he tastes of eggs and tea and his lips are soft on Robert’s. They lean into it, Robert taking the time to remind himself what home feels like in his arms, on his lips, buried in his chest as Aaron has become over the years.

“Thought we could put of some Grand Tour while we lie on the sofa,” Aaron says. His hands have stilled in the sink, he has let the pan go instead leaning on the counter slightly.

“Want another cuppa?” Robert asks. He presses a kiss to the bottom of Aaron’s jaw as Aaron finishes the dishes.

“Sounds good,” he replies. There is a softness to it, a fondness in Aaron’s voice that Robert has only really gotten used to hearing in the past few months. Aaron wanting him, wanting a life with him is still fresh enough to be thrilling but it’s all he could ever want, the only future he can truly see himself live.

They sprawl out on the sofa, Aaron’s feet tucked under Robert’s thighs as they pull the last few episodes of the Grand Tour up on the screen. It’s been a while since they last watched it and neither of them can remember which episode they are on, but it doesn’t really matter – Robert places his hand on Aaron’s leg and doesn’t really pay attention to the telly anyway.

For lunch Robert throws together a quick pasta dish while Aaron takes a shower, and while Aaron does the dishes Robert takes his. They go for a walk, side by side through the village and enjoying some fresh air, Robert greeting Bernice and saying a quick hello to Vic in the pub.

“Good to have you back!” she says. “How was Holland?”

“Alright, yeah.” Robert smiles absentmindedly. “Good to be home though.” Vic cocks her head towards Aaron and Robert grins even more. “He’s taken the day off,” Robert explains.

Vic smiles, leans over and squeezes Robert’s arm. “Go spend time with him then, lunch tomorrow?” she asks.

Robert nods as he walks towards Aaron, who is looking a little grumpy.

“Want to have a coffee with her?” he asks.

“No,” Robert says. “Today, I’m yours remember?”

Aaron perks up at this, lips curving in a smile before Robert puts his arm around Aaron shoulder and steers them towards the bridge. He looks over at Aaron as they walk, his nose pink in the cold air and his eyes bright and shining.

Aaron still isn’t big on public displays, and Robert understands. The vulnerability that comes with open affection isn’t something he is entirely comfortable with, but as they stand on the bridge, Aaron looks around to check their surroundings before he pulls Robert close, lifts his head and tilts it so their lips slot together perfectly, hot and heady. Robert leans into it, presses Aaron slightly against the railing. They pull apart when Robert’s lips are swollen and his chin is red from Aaron’s beard. Robert presses his forehead to Aaron’s and smiles.

The afternoon passes quickly, too quickly for Robert’s taste. They veg out a bit when they get back but Aaron inevitably ends up pulling Robert close, kissing him deeply until they are both short for breath. Robert pulls Aaron down on top of him until Aaron is slotted between his legs and they snog like a pair of teenagers on the sofa.

Their kisses are softer, the desperation of last night gone and replaced by more caring, being with each other and exchanging languid kisses is enough now. Robert’s got his hands on Aaron’s back, pressing his chest to Aaron’s and Aaron has one hand on Robert’s cheek, softly stroking the skin below his ear. Robert could stay like this for hours, Aaron in his arms and nothing but time to spend kissing him, being with him.

“I might have to leave more often if this is the welcome home I get,” Robert jokes. Aaron pulls away and he is smiling but the way his brow furrows has Robert freeze.

“None of that, yeah?” Aaron says. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Robert says, pulling him back in for a kiss. “I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.” Aaron freezes, lips on Robert’s as his whole body tenses. “What?”

Aaron pulls away, leans on his hand and on Robert’s body, looking slightly sheepish. “I wanted to wait…” he says, eyes darting every which way as he bites his lip.

“Wait for what?” Robert asks. Aaron isn’t one for secrets and this unsettles him, unfolds in his chest and makes his brow knit together.

“Know how it’s our anniversary this summer?” Aaron starts. The anniversary of their second wedding – the real one, legally – and Robert simply nods. “I wanted to do something for you, with you.”

He gets up, walks over to the table and grabs his laptop. Robert sits up on the sofa to accommodate Aaron when he comes back, plopping down and opening his laptop practically in one go. Aaron isn’t always the best at treating his things with care. Robert peers over Aaron’s shoulder, the nervousness now exchanged for excitement.

“I know you wanted to go away a bit, and we haven’t exactly got pots of money after the wedding and I know we’re saving up for that new car…” Aaron mutters, his own nerves showing in the tightness of his shoulders, the way he lifts his hand to bite his nails. “So I thought about Europe, maybe Paris but… it was so expensive.”

“Yeah,” Robert says. “What’re you saying?” He’s smiling now.

“I thought we could go somewhere together – and then I saw Brussels. I’ve heard that they have amazing food and beer there, and the centre of town looks like something you would like walking around in, taking pictures and everything…” Aaron’s bringing up an email with an attachment, a Eurostar email, and opens the file. Tickets.

“You…?” Robert asks.

“I bought us a trip to Brussels, one week of us and a hotel room and good food and,” but before Aaron can continue, Robert wraps his arms around him, presses a kiss to his cheek. “I know I should’ve talked to you about it first, but I wanted to show you…”

“I love you,” Robert says, mouth pressed against Aaron’s stubble. “So much.”

Aaron grins, turns around so he can kiss Robert properly, sloppily. “I love you more,” he says. “Chas has already said she’d take care of Liv, and the scrapyard is going well enough that I can keep it shut for a week.”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?” Robert asks. Aaron bites his lips, slight embarrassment showing but Robert kisses it away. Aaron is a sop and Robert had no idea how much.

“I wanted to go somewhere with you,” Aaron says. “Show you off a bit.”

“I’m good with that,” Robert replies. “This isn’t because of what Vanessa said, is it?”

Aaron shrugs, eyes still shining. “She did kind of give me the idea… but I did it because I wanted to.”

Robert laughs and presses his lips together to stifle it. This is happening, a trip with Aaron. He kisses him, softly, lovingly, with everything he’s got before pulling away and looking him squarely in the eyes. Aaron’s smiling but it’s guarded, nerves still on edge as he looks at Robert, as if Robert isn’t thrilled. As if he could react any other way than by being purely happy. He pulls Aaron closer, kisses him again before saying: “I can’t wait.”

Aaron grins and pushes him down on the sofa, and they are entangled once more, legs and lips and bodies slotted together.

#memorieswarm #robron #robron secret valentine #robronsecretvalentine #fanfiction #fluff

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notapaladin · 3 years

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that i will never leave your side

In which Acatl gets a puppy, because if anyone deserves unconditional love it’s this guy.

Also on AO3

Theoretically, the rainy season was almost over. Theoretically it should be getting cooler, or at least drier. The Storm Lord apparently didn’t care for theoreticals, because the sun on Acatl’s bare back was merciless and every deep breath felt like he was inhaling lake water.

At least there was a good breeze and better company. Teomitl had come to meet him for lunch, and it was difficult to be too surly about the weather—or indeed, about anything—when his lover was settling down next to him with that radiant smile and offering him tamales stuffed with greens and hot peppers. The breeze wasn’t enough to make holding each other comfortable, at least until the sun went down, but it was just enough for Teomitl’s fingers to tangle lightly with his as they ate. He found himself smiling.

I’m going to miss this, came the thought. He would. When the dry season began, the army would make their preparations for war in earnest, and he’d be lucky to see Teomitl at all before they left. And then...then there would be four long, cold months without his lover’s smile. He cast his gaze down to his meal. He’s strong and intelligent. He’ll come back safely, whether it ends in a victory or not. He has to.

Teomitl flicked a glance over to him. His own tamale was almost gone. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” He would have added more peppers, but it was still delicious. He gave Teomitl’s fingers a quick squeeze. “It’s not too spicy for you?”

He could feel his lover stiffening and glanced over to catch his glare. Apparently the question had affronted him; whether it was because he hated being the object of concern or thought it would make him seem weak, Acatl didn’t know. Probably both. “Never.”

Acatl raised an eyebrow at him and waited.

Sure enough, Teomitl’s shoulders relaxed, and he shook his head with a snort. “Just because your favorite meals come from Chantico’s own hearth fires doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t handle hot food.”

He thought about that. “...It’s not that spicy.”

“Remember when Neutemoc ate some of your food by mistake?”

He winced. Admittedly, watching his brother’s whole face turn red had been mildly entertaining, but the coughing and swearing and hopefully-not-serious death threats hadn’t.

“Exactly,” Teomitl said.

Seeking to cover his embarrassment, he took another bite of his tamale—it was almost gone—and commented, “I do know you like sweet things, though.” He’d discovered it purely by accident back when Teomitl had still been his student and a late-running lesson had resulted in them eating lunch together; he hadn’t known anyone could follow up a full meal with that much honey-drizzled fruit without the world’s worst stomachache to show for it. The thought of it still made him feel a bit ill, but even then the open and honest delight on Teomitl’s face had struck him to the core.

And now he had the pleasure of watching Teomitl turn very slightly red around the ears, which was better. “And?” he huffed. “Mihmatini is much worse.”

He smiled at the memory his lover’s words sparked. “Oh, I know. Has anyone ever told you about the time she tried to climb a cactus to get at the fruit? She was...oh, about eight at the time.”

Clearly, nobody had. Teomitl blinked at him, and Acatl watched as comprehension slowly dawned across his face. “She didn’t.”

Now he was grinning, and didn’t bother to hide it. It had been distressing at the time, but in hindsight he could admit that Mihmatini’s stubborn pout had been hilarious. “She did.”

Teomitl, to his credit, managed to hold in his laughter for one heartbeat, two—and then he cracked, shoulders shaking as he broke down in squeaky giggles. It was the cutest thing Acatl had ever heard in his life. “Oh, gods,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “I know I shouldn’t laugh—but I can just imagine her face—”

“Don’t tease her about it,” he warned. Not that he necessarily thought Teomitl would, but...well. I want him in my arms because he wants to be there. Not because his wife threw him out of the house.

“I enjoy having all my extremities attached to me.” Teomitl paused, studying the remnants of his tamale. “Besides, she has enough to worry about.”

A nasty chill oozed down his spine. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” And then he paused, glancing up at Acatl through lowered lashes. It was a sight that could have melted a stronger man’s heart; Acatl felt his own thump hard in his chest. He was always weak to that look—but then his lover continued, and the words jarred him back to reality. “She was wondering if you wanted a dog.”

A dog...? The words jumbled together in his head, and he had to take a moment to comprehend them. “As what, lunch?”

“As a pet,” Teomitl huffed.

Acatl blinked at him. “...A pet.”

Teomitl fidgeted, fingers toying restlessly with Acatl’s own. “The royal kennels are full of puppies this time of year. And she—I—that is...we’re planning on getting one for ourselves, too.”

“I’m not sure I...” He bit his lip, thinking. As a child, only a few families in his calpulli had been able to afford to keep dogs, and he couldn’t recall any of them being particularly sentimental over the beasts that kept vermin away from their turkeys. When he dealt with them now, it was invariably on the sacrificial altar or the dinner table. He’d never given any thought to having one as a companion. Wagging tails. Bright eyes. A warm and enthusiastic welcome home.

Teomitl seemed to take his silence as refusal, and pulled his hand away with a curt, “Forget it, then.”

Acatl twitched in surprise, lifting his head to watch the faint flush that stained Teomitl’s cheekbones. “No,” he blurted out—he might not be sure about the notion of a pet dog, but he was absolutely sure he hated the way Teomitl withdrew into himself when he felt hurt. Before Teomitl could pull away any further, he took his hand again. “I’ll come with you.”

Teomitl stared at him. “You will?”

He laced his fingers through Teomitl’s own, letting a smile tug at his lips. “I can see it means a lot to you.”

Now Teomitl was definitely blushing, and dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “...I don’t want you to be lonely while I’m away.”

He couldn’t stifle his smile anymore. “And you think a dog will keep me company as well as you do?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Teomitl muttered. “And if we both get dogs, they can play with each other, so they won’t be alone either.”

Oh, my heart. Acatl had to kiss him for that. It was a law immutable as the gods’ wrath. When Teomitl sighed and melted into it, not even the heat could stop him pulling the man into his arms.

It was some time before they managed to leave the courtyard.

The royal kennels were tucked away near the House of Animals. Compared to the extravagant enclosures for the rarer beasts, they were almost nondescript—a series of low, plain buildings with a strong smell of raw meat and wet dog. Acatl had never been there. He’d been half expecting chaos and noise, but the place was quiet. The slaves and servants moved with brisk purpose, one or two with medium-sized dogs on rope leads, and Acatl wound up gazing after them as they passed. They looked friendly, at least.

They made it two steps into a well-swept and almost aggressively clean courtyard before the kennelmaster appeared. His cloak was plain, but there were feathers tied into his hair and carved bone earrings in his ears. “Ah, my lords! How can I help you today?”

Teomitl stepped up, saving Acatl from having to put a sentence together. “We’re here to look at the most recently weaned litters.”

The man’s polite smile held a thread of real warmth. “Of course, my lords, right this way.”

As they followed the kennelmaster into the depths of the complex, Acatl drew closer to Teomitl’s side and asked in a quiet undertone, “Are you sure about getting one so young?”

He nodded. “They’ll be easier to train.”

Acatl thought about the small children he knew. At least when they needed something, they could tell you in human words. Puppies would just howl. So, not that much different from little Ollin, I suppose. “And needier.”

“Hm.” But Teomitl’s eyes were sparkling in a way that said he didn’t see this as much of a downside.

Acatl sighed, shaking his head. Teomitl had grown and changed so much since they’d met, but if his new hound needed to be housebroken or taken for a run around the main island, he would think nothing of delegating to a fleet of servants. Acatl would have no such safety net; he didn’t know what Ichtaca would think about him acquiring a pet, but he suspected it wouldn’t be complimentary. No, like as not he’d be doing all the work himself. He didn’t need the extra burden.

And yet...he thought about the dry season, and the cold, and four silent walls. He thought about affection that demanded nothing save trust. It was tempting.

They were coming to a long line of wooden cages, each filled with dogs. The Revered Speaker’s hunting dogs were long-legged creatures, most with short hair but one or two hairless. Acatl avoided looking at those; their wrinkled skin reminded him unpleasantly of ahuitzotls, and no amount of love for Teomitl would make that association palatable. The kennelmaster led them to the very end, where one cage—larger than the others—held several dozen puppies of all colors.

“Well, my lords, you may go in and say hello.”

He opened the cage. Teomitl went in, crouching down for a better look at a sleeping black-and-white one. For the space of a heartbeat, nothing happened.

And then one of the puppies yipped, and the rest swarmed, and Teomitl went down in a sea of wriggly, roly-poly bodies.

“Oof!”

Acatl all but scrambled in, reaching to help him up, but realized as soon as he did so that he’d miscalculated. Entering the cage put him and his sandal straps within range of sharp little teeth, and when they pulled him off-balance he had to sit down before he fell. “Teo—ack!” He’d seen puppies before, from a distance. A nice, safe distance. He hadn’t seen them like this, all wiggling excitement and fur as they clambered over his lap.

Teomitl was no help. He was flat on his back and clearly in his element, ruffling one puppy’s ears while seeming blissfully unaware of the one gnawing on his cloak. Even more were vying for his attention, and he chattered to them in a tone Acatl hadn’t even heard him use with Ollin. If he was feeling suicidal or felt like sleeping alone until the end of next summer, he might have described it as cooing. “Oh, look at you! Yes, hello—oh, no, I can’t pet all of you at once!” It wasn’t stopping him from trying.

Acatl was regretting having put his cloak back on. The extra fabric only meant more things for puppies to chew, sniff at, and get tangled in, and it was a struggle to remain upright with half a dozen tiny things all snuffling around him. “Excuse—no, do not chew on my hair!” Annoyed, he jerked his head out of the range of curious teeth, but even that didn’t help; the offending dog, a red-and-white female, seemed to view it as a new and exciting game. Another one took the distraction as a chance to bound into his lap and rear up on its hind legs, planting its slobbery tongue on his chin.

“I’m terribly sorry,” said the kennelmaster, who did not sound sorry at all. Acatl threw him a glare, but it was hard to summon up much irritation with a puppy licking his face; its tail was wagging so fast it was practically a blur.

Besides, Teomitl was delighted, and his joy was infectious. Acatl was more acutely aware of it than he’d ever been of his own heartbeat or of his patron’s magic. When a tiny yellow puppy shoved its nose into his ear, the reward was another one of those undignified squeaks of laughter that always flipped Acatl’s heart upside down.

Before he knew it, he realized he was smiling. “...You love dogs.”

Teomitl’s grin split his face. “Mm-hmm.” A mostly-white one started trying to gnaw his hair, and he gently shoved it away. “I always wanted a pet of my own.”

“I can see that,” he murmured. Teomitl had grown up like a wildflower under the eye of an assortment of nurses and tutors and older, distant relations. He doubted any one of them had looked at the lonely boy his lover had once been and thought to give him any sort of gifts, never mind a companion that would repay his care with unconditional devotion. The thought pinched Acatl’s heart.

But before he could get emotional over it, the dog in his lap was pushed off by its bigger sibling, who proceeded to stomp in an irregular circle—remarkably uncomfortable, that—and settle down to sleep without a single care in the world. Blinking, he looked down at it. It was mostly black with dark orange feet, eyebrows, and muzzle, and its fur was very, very soft. Its floppy ears looked even softer.

“...Oh,” he managed.

Teomitl pushed himself upright, dislodging a few of his own furry passengers. “I think you’ve been chosen.”

Carefully, he risked lifting one hand and stroking the puppy’s ears. It snored on, undisturbed, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “...Good boy,” he murmured. “Good boy.” Its ears really were very soft. It took a moment before he could respond to Teomitl’s words. “...Perhaps I have.”

Long ago, Teomitl had done much the same thing—had barged into his life and made a home for himself in his heart, standing on the steps of his temple in the setting sun. “I still need you” flashed into his head, followed a moment later by the just as devastating memory of another sunset on the temple steps, when a smile had reached into his chest and pulled joy from the depths of his own uncertainty. He gazed down at the dog in his lap. It wouldn’t be the first time someone else has chosen me, and look where it’s gotten me now. A joy I never would have known otherwise.

“Well?” Teomitl asked. “What do you think?”

He bit his lip, thinking. One of the dog’s hind legs twitched, as though it was running in its dreams. “...This one seems to like me.”

“He has good taste,” Now Teomitl was smiling; Acatl suddenly, fervently wished they didn’t have an audience. It was too easy to imagine himself leaning over and kissing that smile.

Before he could do anything reckless, he shifted his weight in preparation for getting to his feet, and immediately realized he had a problem. “...Ah. How do I...” He looked down at the dog again, which hadn’t even stirred...but which surely would, if he got up too quickly and startled it. He chewed his bottom lip again. Surely, carrying a puppy couldn’t be too much different from carrying one of his baby nieces or nephews, but it was so small.

“Like this.” Teomitl reached over and adjusted his hold, helping him settle the puppy—his puppy now—into his arms. As he’d thought, it was much the same as carrying a human infant, but the puppy had a wiggly body and dull little nails, and as Teomitl helped him nestle it against his shoulder it blinked sleepy brown eyes at him. He barely dared breathe.

A dog. Something to take care of. Something that will live by my side so that I won’t be alone. “I’ll take him,” he blurted out.

“Really?” Teomitl looked surprised, as though he wasn’t expecting Acatl to make a decision so soon.

Truthfully, Acatl hadn’t been expecting it either, but it felt good. It felt right. He thought of the long months ahead, of going home to an empty house at the end of the day, of eating his meals in silence. He thought about a cold nose tucked into the crook of his arm and little paws twitching in dreams. He even thought, briefly, of playing tug-of-war with the hound it was sure to grow up to be. Maybe he could sacrifice his formal cape to the cause. “Really.”

“An excellent choice, my lord.” Acatl twitched; he’d almost forgotten the kennelmaster was there. “Will you be needing a cage for him?”

Ah. Right. Dogs needed things like beds and chewable objects that were not his sandals, sleeping mat, or cookware. “...That would be appreciated, yes. And a leash, as well.”

As the kennelmaster left, presumably to find what Acatl had asked for, Teomitl beamed like the sun. “What will you name him?”

He hadn’t thought of a name, but one came to him anyway. “...Miton, I think.” Little Arrow.

Now Teomitl was blushing and swatting his shoulder, but it was worth it.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #paladin writes stuff

0 notes

saikostories · 3 years

Text

GOT7 - Home Run (Jackson)

Your mysterious signal,

Missed it, I keep swinging.

I don’t know where this will go,

You’re hard like a curveball

…………………

“What the hell happened here?”

y/n stared at the art classroom in horror. The huge banner, the one they had been relentlessly working on for the past week was completely destroyed. There was a huge tear down the middle, caused by an easel falling over on the hung banner and ripping it. The easel had also been holding a container of black paint, which had dripped all over the fallen banner. It was unsalvageable. “It’s almost like somebody did it on purpose,” one of the girls whispered, her hand covering her mouth. They were all standing stock still, too horrified at the disaster before them, not knowing what to do. Their hard work was crumbling before their eyes. The broken easel, the culprit of the crime, was lying miserably on it’s side on the floor. y/n took a deep breath and tried to cool herself. The other students looked extremely upset, and Mina was on the verge of tears. y/n needed to take charge of the situation and handle things responsibly. Ignoring the horrified looks of her fellow Art club members, she leaned down and picked up the broken easel slowly. “Looks like the easel landed on the banner and caused the damage,” y/n said, trying to stay calm. She stood the easel upright and then ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh. y/n glanced at the other members. “Who was the last one to leave the studio yesterday evening? Wasn’t it you, Mina?” Mina’s eyes widened in horror. Her eyes were glazed over with tears. “Yes, but everything was fine when I left! I promise, unnie, it wasn’t me! I only cleaned up the glitter and hung the banner to dry before locking the room up. I left the key with the janitor like we always do!” “I believe you,” y/n reassured her. She pointed towards the window that was right in front of the easel. It was half-open, and had clearly been open for a while. “We opened the window yesterday afternoon because it was hot, remember? Looks like the wind knocked the easel over. Nobody’s responsible for this.” “What do we do?” one of the other girls whined. “Let’s pick it up, first,” y/n said with a sigh. She waved over Youngjae, one of the few male members of the Art club. “Yah, Youngjae, help me pick it up. Be careful; we don’t need it to tear any more than it already has. Let’s spread it out on the table and see if we can repair the damage. Mina, get the double-sided tape from the supply room.” Youngjae nodded and hurried to grab the fallen banner from the other end. He slowly lifted it, but something rolled out from underneath and hit his foot. He frowned, looking down at it. “What the… noona, somebody left a baseball lying around here. I could have tripped on that!” he whined. y/n frowned as she let the banner down slowly and picked up the baseball. It looked worn-out and used, with grass stains and dirt all over it. She had never seen it before and she stared at it for a long moment as comprehension dawned upon her. y/n looked at the open window calmly. There was only one place this ball could have come from.

………………… One, two strike,

If I lose you then it’s game over

Watch for the change,

I’ve got the feeling in my fingertips.

…………………

Yugyeom sensed danger. He ran into the boys locker room, baseball cap lopsided on his head. “Hyung, hyung! It’s that scary noona from the Art club. She’s outside and she says she wants to talk to you. I think it’s bad, because Youngjae-hyung is there too, and he made eye contact with me and made this slicing motion against his neck so I think he was trying to tell me-“ Jaebum glanced up and frowned. “What?” he asked, unable to follow the younger boys’ frantic rambling. He dropped his baseball glove on the bench and then stood up, deciding to go see what the matter was for himself. He exited the locker room and found a couple of familiar faces outside. Standing at the front was Kim y/n, the President of the Art Club. “y/n-ssi,” Jaebum greeted her politely. He had heard rumors about Kim y/n’s temper. It was said that she was fiercely protective over her club and it’s members, and that she had once beaten up a guy who had made fun of somebody for being in the Art Club. Those were only rumors, of course, but even Im Jaebum felt a little apprehensive when he saw the dark look in y/n’s eyes. “Um, we’re about to start baseball practice. Is there something I can do for you?” y/n had her arms folded coolly across her chest. “I wish there was. I think the damage is a bit more than you imagined this time, though.” Jaebum blinked. “Huh?” “Is this familiar to you?” She held up the rogue baseball gingerly between two fingers, almost as though she was too disgusted to touch it. y/n dropped it quickly into Jaebum’s outstretched hand and wiped her fingers on her jeans. Jaebum blinked down at the over-used baseball. “Um, probably. To be honest, we have a lot of these. Where did you find this one?” “In our Art club room. Any clue how it could have gotten there?” y/n asked coldly. Jaebum blinked, confused. “I don’t understand. Are you bringing this here because someone stole it, or…?” Yugyeom, who was standing behind Jaebum and had been exchanging glances with Youngjae while the two leaders spoke, poked Jaebum in the back and leaned down to whisper in his ear nervously. “Hyung, it’s not that… yesterday evening… practice… Jackson’s home run… remember?” Jaebum did. Before he could speak, though, they were interrupted by the sound of a slightly high-pitched, loud laugh coming from down the corridor. In a few seconds, Jackson Wang appeared around the corner. He was fully dressed in his baseball gear, cap pulled over his short hair and his baseball bat slung over a shoulder. He waved with a huge grin. “Hyung! Sorry I’m late, that teacher held me back because I skipped her class again and- oh!” Jackson’s smile widened as he noticed their guests. “y/n! What are you doing near the boys’ locker rooms? Hoping to catch me changing?” he asked with a wink. y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her face flushed pink, partly because the idea of catching Jackson Wang changing wasn’t entirely without appeal. But mostly because he always managed to make her flustered. Jackson was loud, funny and charming. It was impossible not to fall for him. But y/n had her dignity, and she refused to bend it, no matter how handsome or charming Jackson Wang was. “Can you not interrupt when people are talking?” she asked him coldly. Jaebum sighed. “Actually, it’s a good thing he’s here. Jackson’s the only one who hit a home run at practice yesterday and we couldn’t find the ball afterwards, so… here’s the ball’s owner,” he explained, giving the ball to Jackson. y/n was unimpressed. “This ball flew in through the Art Club window and completely destroyed the banner that we’ve been working on for the past week. That’s tons of wasted paint, a broken easel, and our priceless hard work down the drain. So I’d like to know who’s going to take responsibility for this.” Jackson frowned. “Really? It did that much damage? But, I mean, it was a pretty awesome hit, went sailing straight through the air until-” “Are you proud of yourself right now?” y/n hissed. “Whoa, hey, I’m sorry. Don’t be like that, y/n,” Jackson said, sounding slightly apologetic. “I mean, I’m really sorry that your work was damaged but it’s not like I intentionally aimed at the art club window or something, it just happened to be a really good swing. Which is expected, since I’m the team’s ace-“ “We’ve been working on that banner all week,” y/n snapped. She had managed to stay calm until then, but the sight of Jackson Wang’s unapologetic face was making her emotions rage. He was taking it so casually and light-heartedly, the way he seemed to take life in general. y/n hated people who couldn’t be serious and take responsibility for their actions. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to pour your heart and soul into a piece of artwork and then have it destroyed in front of you? Of course you don’t, you spend all your time rolling in the mud and swinging uselessly at balls, as if that’s ever helped anybody-“ Jaebum bristled. “I don’t think that’s necessary-“ “A lot of things aren’t necessary. Including, in my opinion, the existence of your useless club,” y/n declared. She snatched the ball out of Jackson’s hands and he jumped slightly as their fingers touched. She held it up in front of their faces. “I’m taking this to the Principal right now and you’ll be lucky if your bloody club ever gets any funds again.” Jackson’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Don’t do that-“ “See you in hell, Jackson Wang.”

…………………

I’m not sure if I should react to your sarcastic comments,

Or I should pretend to be indifferent until your next sign.

This is the end of our never-ending mind games,

I have to be a man and face it head on.

…………………

“Drawing again?” y/n stiffened slightly at the sound of Jackson’s voice over her shoulder. He somehow always popped out of nowhere and made her heart skip a beat. She stayed still, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how affected she was by his presence. “Uh… yeah,” she muttered lightly, grabbing an eraser to rub off the little pencil sketch of a baseball she’d made on an empty page. She had been staring out of the window during class and had just begun doodling absent-mindedly. Jackson leaning over and peering at the picture made her feel a little flustered. “It’s just doodles, I couldn’t listen to Mrs. Jung and I was looking at the baseball field, so…” “No, no, don’t erase it!” Jackson insisted with a grin. He grabbed y/n’s hand to prevent her from erasing the little baseball and beamed at her. “I think it’s cute. Can I have it?” y/n rolled her eyes and tried not to look embarrassed. “Why?” “Cause it’s a baseball and I play baseball,” he replied simply, as he cleanly ripped the page out of her notebook. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re good at drawing.” y/n scoffed. “I’m the President of the Art Club, of course I’m good at drawing-“ “I saw you scribbling serious during class so I thought you were actually taking notes during Mrs. Jung’s lecture. I came to ask to borrow them, but,” Jackson held up the paper with her drawing and chuckled. “This is even better, eh? Nice to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t pay attention in class.” “I do pay attention!” y/n protested. “Yeah, right. So do you have any plans next weekend?” He asked eagerly, placing his elbows on her table and leaning down close to her. y/n had to blink and lean back at his sudden proximity. She could only hope that her face hadn’t flushed red. “Why?” she asked warily. “Because it’s our first game of the season,” Jackson replied with a grin, gesturing to his worn-out baseball cap. “It’s a home game! You should come and cheer us on, it’ll be fun!” y/n flushed. “I don’t know anything about baseball-“ “Come on. You just drew a perfect baseball from imagination, I’m sure you’re not that clueless. Why don’t you come? Bring your friends? Please?” Jackson pouted slightly. When y/n merely shot him a disinterested look, he leaned back and sighed. His bright face fell. “Yeah, okay, I get it. You don’t want to come.” “Don’t act so upset, you’ll have plenty of people to cheer you on.” “You’d think, huh? It’s not like that, though. It’s been a couple of years since the baseball team won anything, so nobody bothers to come to our games anymore. Everyone’s hyped about the football matches. They’re the ones who bring home trophies.” “Well, I won’t be going to either, so you can rest in peace,” y/n reassured him dully. Jackson blinked down at her for a few seconds and then chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough. I still wish you would come if you have nothing better to do, though. It’s always been my dream to have a girlfriend come to my games, wear my jersey and cheer for me as I hit a home run.” y/n closed her notebook and started to stuff it into her bag as she stood up. “I have to go to my Art club meeting. I pity the girl that has to put on your stinky jersey, Wang.” Jackson laughed as he watched y/n exit the classroom, before carefully tucking the paper with her baseball drawing into his uniform pocket.

…………………

It’s all right, I see your heart coming towards me

Oh yes, from now you’re my girl

You’re falling for me

Home Run!

…………………

They couldn’t fix the banner. After spending about an hour trying to put it back together and cover the splotches of paint, most of the Art Club members agreed that it was hopeless. Even though they’d managed to make it one piece again, it still looked awful and was a complete mess. y/n kneeled on the floor next to the banner, staring at the ruined thing miserably. Her hair was a mess and her hands covered in paint from trying to paint over the ruined areas. “Mina- listen, hand me that white paint there, we can paint over this part and-“ Mina looked down at y/n sadly and shook her head. “Unnie… leave it. It’s hopeless. Youngjae’s great at fixing messes and even he said that it’s never going to look the same again. Everyone’s gone home.” y/n glanced back and noticed that most of the Art Club members had indeed left for home once it was clear that the banner couldn’t be fixed. She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. She just couldn’t leave the banner like this. They’d worked so hard on it. She glanced up at Mina with a forced smile. “Sorry, Mina. I’m keeping you back, right? Why don’t you go home, too? We’ll have a meeting tomorrow and discuss ideas for a new project.” Mina blinked. “Will you leave with me?” “I’ll stay here a bit longer and see what I can salvage,” y/n replied. “Maybe we can re-use some of the untouched parts in the future? You go ahead, I’ll lock up once I’m done. Go home safely!” Mina nodded and left the room reluctantly after gathering her things. The room was plunged into silence and y/n sighed, looking down at the banner again. Tears were brimming at the edge of her eyes. It was the first time that something she’d put so much work into had been destroyed so effortlessly. She noticed the dimming sky and stood up to switch on the lights in the classroom. Then she stretched and cracked her knuckles. Some parts of the borders and the drawings in the corners were unaffected. If she cut these off, they could at least re-use them for a future project. y/n had lost track of time. It wasn’t until the door to the classroom creaked open that she straightened up and realized her back was aching. She whirled around and spotted Jackson Wang standing hesitantly at the door. He was still in his baseball gear, only more dirty and grass stained than before. He was fiddling with his baseball cap in his hands. “Hey…” Jackson said hesitantly, clearing his throat and stepping into the classroom. “Are you busy?” y/n felt her stomach twist. She turned away from him and back to the banner. “Yes, I’m still trying to fix the mess you made with your oh-so-awesome home run. How hard did you hit the goddamn ball anyway?” she grumbled, as she continued to snip away at the banner with her scissors. “I came to apologize for that. It was genuinely an accident, but it caused you guys a lot of trouble and I can’t imagine how much work you must have put into the-“ he trailed off, looking at the destroyed banner that y/n was snipping at. “Is that a sketch of a baseball?” y/n froze. “It was.” “That’s a bat. And a glove over there. And that’s our team’s mascot. Hold on, move aside so I can read what it says,” Jackson insisted, rushing over to kneel beside y/n and reading out the huge slogan that had been beautifully written on the banner. “Oh my God, this banner is for the baseball team? Really?” y/n felt her cheeks flush red and she continued snipping. She avoided Jackson’s exited gaze. She already knew the sort of shit-eating expression that he would have on his face and she didn’t want to see it. “I told you, it was a banner for the baseball team. It’s unsalvageable. I’m taking it apart now, no thanks to you,” she mumbled. “You’ve spent the past week making a banner for the baseball team?” y/n put the scissors down and glared at him. “Can you stop repeating that like it’s something shocking, I-“ She was cut off, by Jackson Wang wrapping his arms around her tightly. y/n froze in shock. He smelled like dirt from the baseball field and deodorant. Yet, there was something about his strong arms wrapped around her tightly and his cheek pressing into her hair softly that made her head spin. Jackson was warm and his arms were extremely comforting. y/n found her face pressed into the shoulder of his baseball jersey and she was still as his arms held her tightly. “Thank you,” he muttered into her hair. y/n felt her heartbeat thump. She jolted back to her senses and pushed him away lightly, trying to hide her blush. “Get off me, you smell like dirt.” “Yeah? I landed in a bit of a mudpile trying to catch the ball earlier. Should probably have showered first, huh?” he asked sheepishly, letting go of her and running his hands through his hair with a hesitant chuckle. y/n looked up at him calmly. It was one of the rare moments he wasn’t wearing a baseball cap and she could see his angular face clearly. Jackson smiled. “I had no idea you were making a banner for us. You said you wouldn’t even come to the game.” y/n flushed. “I wasn’t-“ “And you didn’t go the Principal about the ball, right? I mean, Youngjae told me you hadn’t, but the others insisted I find out and apologize anyway. I didn’t think you would complain about us. I told Jaebum not to worry about it.” “You shouldn’t be so sure. I almost did go to the Principal.” “You wouldn’t. You know that the baseball team is having a hard time, that’s why you made this banner to cheer us on in the first place. You wouldn’t have made things worse for us,” Jackson replied confidently. He gave her a small smile. “You’re not that kind of a person, y/n.” “And how would you know-“ “Because I like you.” y/n stared at him, her eyes wide at his sudden confession. Did he just? Jackson was grinning his usual wide grin, but it looked a little embarrassed now. He ran his fingers through his hair again and blinked. “Sorry. That was kind of abrupt, right?” he laughed nervously, his voice a little high. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but seeing the banner you made for me gave me a sudden boost of confidence, I guess?” y/n’s heartbeat was thumping as Jackson smiled at her. She felt suddenly exposed, and tried to defend herself. “It wasn’t for you, it was for the whole-“ “I’m honestly really, really sorry about ruining the banner. I never meant to,” he apologized, cutting her off. He was suddenly digging into his backpack and y/n watched him silently. He pulled out a folded jersey and handed it to her quickly. “It’s my spare jersey. Since you don’t have the banner anymore, you can use it to support me on Saturday, instead?” he offered hopefully. y/n stared down at the jersey. Her head was spinning. “Uh…” “I mean, you don’t have to.” Jackson dug into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper with a grin, waving it in front of her. “I still keep the baseball drawing you made in class as a good luck charm. But it would be cooler to have you come in person. So please come?” y/n blinked. “Y-yeah-“ “Great! I have to get back to practice or Jaebum will kick my ass, I just told him I was going to the bathroom. I’ll see you around,” he insisted, getting up. Jackson turned to leave but then glanced back at the destroyed banner on the floor. “Actually, do you mind if I take a picture of that?” y/n glanced at it. “T-the banner?” “Yeah. Before you throw it away. You put so much effort into it that we should remember it somehow,” he pointed out. Jackson fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked a quick picture of the banner before grinning at y/n. “Done. Thanks. Bye!” y/n waved goodbye at him silently as he hurried out of the classroom. She could heard Jackson’s thudding footsteps fading away for a few seconds afterwards, as her head spun.

…………………

y/n couldn’t help but cheer as the final score revealed that Jackson’s team had won. Frankly, she hadn’t understood most of the first half and had to make Youngjae sit next to her so he could explain the rules of the game. But by the second half, y/n was cheering just as loudly as the next person and waving her arms in the air wildly. She had nearly put her throat out when Jackson hit a home run. She could swear he had turned to look at her in the stands and shot a wink in her direction.

“Hyung! Hyung! Congratulations, it was awesome!” Youngjae cheered loudly, as the Art club members approached the tired but ecstatic baseball team after the game. He went over to congratulate Jaebum and Jinyoung. y/n stood still, having made eye contact with Jackson. He was carrying his helmet in one hand but he ran over to her with a grin. “You came!” Jackson beamed. “I did. Congratulations. I kind of enjoyed myself, surprisingly. Might have been cooler with the banner, though,” She said lightly. “You saw my home run, right? I saw you cheering in the stands,” Jackson pressed with a grin. He looked down at y/n and his face fell slightly. “But you’re not wearing my jersey, huh? Now I’m kind of embarrassed,” he admitted, his voice going quiet. “It smelled weird.” “Oh.” “Yeah, I washed it a couple of times but that weird dirt and grass smell wouldn’t go away, I just couldn’t wear it. So I kind of made my own,” y/n explained. Her cheeks turned red as she turned around. She moved her hair on shoulder to reveal the backside of her slightly baggy t-shirt; she had painted Jackson’s name and number onto the back. It looked almost professional. “Not bad, right?” she asked, lightly. Jackson wrapped his arms around her from behind, tightly. y/n stiffened slightly in the backhug, but then slowly let herself relax into his comforting grip. His grip on her waist tightened as his head came over her shoulder. “I love it,” he whispered into her ear softly, before pressing his lips to her cheek. He grinned and breathed out, “It’s better than my jersey.” y/n felt her face flush. “I mean, it doesn’t smell as bad, so…” “Hmm.” “Do you plan to let go anytime soon?” she asked, suddenly aware that some of the baseball team and art club members were staring and giggling at them. “People are staring and it’s kind of awkward. Jackson. Let go. At least let me turn around so I can see you-“ Jackson hummed lightly. “I’ll let you go for two seconds if you promise that all you’ll do is turn around.” “I promise. I just want to hug you properly.” He beamed and removed his arms from around her. y/n turned and smiled at him, but then quickly slid out of his grasp completely and darted away. She laughed as she jogged away from him and out of reach. Jackson stared after her, a betrayed expression on his face. “You promised!” he whined, letting his arms fall to his sides. “That’s revenge for destroying my banner, Jackson Wang!”

…………………

This is my heart for you, This is my answer

Please reward me for my efforts,

Home Run!

…………………

0 notes

multiversemuses · 6 years

Text

Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon || A Slytherin House Altercation

@darthvoldemaul

Cori could ignore a lot of nonsense. When it came to student rivalry, Slytherin was known to do its fair share of bragging and swaggering. However, some members of her house seemed to be all hiss and no bite. One boy struck her as especially guilty of this. Due to being louder than any other arrogant parties, he was also significantly more difficult to tune out. Draco Malfoy. The privileged only son of Lucius Malfoy preened more than the albino peacock his family kept on their property, and he made just as much ruckus. The Malfoys had money, influence, and power -- all facts which Draco had doubtless been fed since birth, and all of which gave him the impact of being a richly powerful pain in the ass.

Today, Draco was boisterous as he swept into the common room with a large posse in tow. Crabbe and Goyle (whose nose looked oddly speckled and sore) flanked him. Pansy Parkinson was not far behind and trying her best to weave past them. Several strides back from the usual trio, Cori estimated that there were at least an additional dozen following Draco’s every step. She curled her lip and went back to her Potions textbook. Her brow furrowed as she tried to block out Draco’s voice and focus on homework. The expression of concentration on Cori's face morphed into an irritated scowl as Draco's calls grew noisier with each proclamation.

“Badges! Get your badges, if you haven’t already!” he shouted gaily. His hand plunged repeatedly into the bag at his hip. Draco passed the contents to his cronies, delegating the task of distribution to everyone but himself. “Supplies are limited, so don’t miss out!”

Judging from the metallic clinking that reached Cori’s ears every time Draco rifled past his books, this was a bold-faced lie. He had enough to adorn all of Slytherin house and then some, from the sound of it. The braggart merely wanted to create a false impression of high demand.

Crabbe shuffled across the floor with several badges clenched in his sweaty hands. He came to a halt in front of Cori and fanned out his fingers, waiting for her to take one.

“No, thanks,” she said tersely without making eye contact.

Crabbe blinked at her in befuddlement. He nudged a single badge over his skin with a short and jagged fingernail. His arm extended farther, entering Cori’s field of vision. It was as if Crabbe thought forcing her to get a closer look at his offering would change her mind. Cori tucked two fingers into the Potions book to mark her page and finally looked up at him. Her lips formed a flat line.

“Yes, I saw it perfectly well from across the room, which I’m sure was the point of its design,” she acknowledged. “Still don’t want one, you semi-sentient boulder. Move along.”

“What’s this, then?” a second voice interrupted. Draco.

Cori let out a beleaguered sigh. She turned her still very visibly perturbed face to him.

“Go on, Selwyn,” Draco goaded with what he must have assumed to be a charming smile. “They’re two for one, really. The message changes, see?”

The pad of his forefinger covered the upper half of the badge, which read SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY. All the letters of the first slogan swirled and changed before turning green to spell: POTTER STINKS.

Cori’s eyebrows lifted. “You wasted that much time on little button things for other houses?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Draco’s face. He plucked the badge off Crabbe’s hand and pinched the pin between two fingers.

“It’s not a waste,” he argued. “It’s taking Potter down a peg, which still leaves his opinion of himself about fifty notches above where it ought to be.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about having an excess of self-confidence,” Cori remarked dryly. “Half your badge might do that, but the other half cheers on Cedric. He’s a Hufflepuff. Harry’s a Gryffindor. Why mention either by name if they aren’t Slytherins like us? It could just say something about Hogwarts in general.”

“Because it’s important everyone sees that nobody wanted Potter representing us. His trick to get attention backfired. Everyone hates him now.” Draco cast a look behind him at his friends. Several murmured in agreement or nodded their assent.

“And yet I don’t see anyone else making merchandise to say so.” Cori set aside her book and sat up straighter, resigned to the oncoming argument. She squared her shoulders and draped her open hands across the arms of the chair.

“I expect they would’ve, but I beat them to it. Anything after this would look like a pathetic knockoff.” Draco bounced the heel of his hand, causing the badge to flip midair and catch the light. He caught it and held the emblem out to Cori as Crabbe had done. “Take the damn badge. You’ll be the only one here without one, elsewise, and you wouldn’t want people thinking you’re a Potter fan. You don’t support Potter do you, Selwyn?” His smile shifted into something more smug and jeering.

“I don’t give a good goddamn who got chosen, so long as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons get obliterated in the tasks. They’re the ones who really need to be taken down a peg or two, if you ask me. Put them on one of your buttons.” Cori reached as if she were going to pick up her textbook again but, predictably, Draco wasn’t finished yet.

“Little Coriander Selwyn, waving a banner for half-blood Harry Potter.” Draco tsked. “What would Mummy and Daddy have to say about that?”

“I don’t know or particularly care. I’m not the one who keeps my parents as pen pals,” Cori retorted. She held an imaginary quill in the air and made strokes across an invisible piece of parchment. “Dear Mum, Second best at everything, as ever, but I made wearable circles with words on them and everyone thinks they’re brill! Love and Kisses, Draco. P.S., Please ask Father to stop sending back his envelopes unopened.”

Pansy swooped down and emitted a steady stream of scathing insults, but they were drowned out by Draco’s sharp reply.

“Careful, Selwyn, the last person who crossed me went to the hospital wing.”

Cori scoffed. “Granger? You can’t take credit for that one, Malfoy; the hex was meant for Potter!”

“Potter’s hex missed, too!” Pansy was quick to retort.

Draco jumped in immediately afterward. “Granger went from rabbit to walrus in ten seconds flat!” He and Pansy laughed.

“And what difference does that make?” Cori overrode them both. “Why do you even know how long they were to begin with? Do you spend a lot of time staring at Hermione Granger’s mouth?”

Pansy looked as if she could breathe fire, but Cori noted with satisfaction that her eyes darted frantically to the boy at her side. Draco, for his part, had an unusual amount of color in his generally pale face.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Draco snarled. “Anyone who’s ever had a class with her knows what her teeth are like. They’re right in your face every time she speaks.”

“And she never shuts up!” Pansy added.

“Right, sure.” Cori nodded slowly. She touched her fingers together in a steeple. “You know, Malfoy, if Granger bothers you in class so much, why don’t you just spend more time studying so you can answer faster? I’m sure everyone will be thankful for the peace and quiet while you have that pointy nose in a book.”

Pansy harrumphed. “What, like you?”

“And how do you stand up for Slytherin?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, one hand closing around the badge. “What would you suggest, exactly?”

“We’re the house known for our ambition! Let your actions speak for themselves. Tearing down the competition doesn’t raise you any higher, you fumbling git. Beating them at their own game is what makes sure you stay at the top. If you’ve got a problem with someone, you defeat them at what they do best and make sure there are witnesses.” Here, Cori mirrored Draco’s earlier smirk back at him and looked pointedly at the crowd of fellow Slytherins behind them. A look of dawning comprehension appeared behind his gray eyes.

Draco’s jaw clenched. He cast the badge aside. It hit a nearby pillar with a quiet crack and clattered to the floor.

“All right, Selwyn, since you’re so keen for a fight,” Draco growled through clenched teeth, “how about you and I settle this in a duel?”

Cori was on her feet, wand in hand and pointed just below his chin, before Draco had even twitched his fingers toward the pocket of his robes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you not mean now?” Cori asked innocently, although her wand remained exactly where it was. “I can give you a while to prepare, if you’d like. You can send your dear old mum a list of last wishes. Tell your dad how you’re about to get your ego blasted off and handed to you by a girl who’s eight inches shorter and a year your junior.”

For a moment, Draco tried to draw himself to his full height and sneer down his nose at her. Cori could see the calculations that must be taking place in his mind, realizing just how much judgment and criticism he would face if Cori were the victor. She could also tell how badly he wanted to inform her that his father would hear about this, but she had effectively denied him his most reliable threat.

“This isn’t over, Selwyn,” he spat. “Watch your back.”

Cori snorted derisively. “I won’t need to. If Moody finds out you tried the coward’s way again, he’ll present you to me as a winter stole. Well, you and about two dozen of your white-haired polecat friends.”

She twitched her nose, imitating his unanticipated transformation into a ferret earlier that year. Draco was positively pink with fury.

“I’ll make sure you regret this,” he promised with a jab of his finger.

Draco swept away in a rather clumsy swish of his cloak. He stalked off toward his dorm room with Pansy following as far as the magical separation security would allow.

Cori picked up her book once more and settled comfortably back into her chair as she called after Draco:

“Be sure to send me an owl with the place and time!”

#Self Para #Muse Crossover Para #For:#theclonewriter

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nomaji · 7 years

Text

Never-mind Bout’ The Others

Character Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Slytherin Reader

Requested

Plot Summary: Set in OoTP (Fifth year), the reader and Neville had been secretly dating. Using the excuse of tutoring each other, the two managed not to get caught. Sometime due an incident involving Neville, the reader and Umbridge,their relationship is revealed...

Disclaimer: All things JK. Rowling had created are not mine, the gif belongs to its respective owners.

Also, my very first imagine, yay! Sorry if it wasn’t what you’re expecting, but ‘A’ for effort heheh..I’m also working on two other requests, with more “what’s inside xx common room” things, along with some original short stories, and a Hogwarts short story coming up, but definitely feel free to request more Hogwarts related things you want me to write about!

Hope you enjoy~

It was nice to have Neville by your side, despite your differences.

To begin, he was a Gryffindor, and you, however, was sorted into Slytherin. History had played out to ensure your house’s intense rivalry get passed down through generations. How did the two of you ever got together was beyond anyone’s comprehension. You had your fair share of talents and intelligence, one of them being coming in close second between your housemate, Draco Malfoy, in potions. Neville, however, being not as competent in Potions as you, excelled much further in Herbology, the one subject you swear you’d rather consume sleeping draught than going towards that greenhouse every week. In short, you’re not blessed with the magical green thumb within your year.

So here you are, absentmindedly flipping through your Herbology textbook, occasionally eyeing the weird, tentacle-like plant in the greenish clay pot. Not far left, Professor Sprout’s lecture droned on about the sticky properties of Tailtomortencia, the plant wiggling sloppily next to you, producing a purplish sap that rolled slowly down its sides. You choked back the nausea as the all familiar bell rung through the school, signaling the end of the last class of the day.

You dashed through the stone door right after the common room entrance slid open, paying no mind to the greenish ripples reflected on the ceiling by the waters of the lake, and headed straight for the dorms. Daphne Greengrass, your best friend, tossed you a curious look as you plopped onto the bed, your face buried into your pillow.

“Don’t try to suffocate yourself y/n,” she drawled in amusement, “I don’t want your corpse become the future embodiment of the Slytherin Girls Dorm.”

“mrrffff...”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t speak gibberish.”

You lazily lift your head from the comfort of your pillow, and proceeded to glare mockingly towards the blond witch, who met your unamused look with a small smirk.

“As if I want to die in here, Daphne. But I do know that if you keep smirking like that, your face is going to stay that way, and it’ll take more than magic to change it back.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne stood up and headed towards the exit. “Whatever, I’m going to get dinner, hope you have fun tutoring Longbottom again, judging by his potions skills, you’re gonna need it.”

“...right.”

“ I don’t get it, it wasn’t supposed to be that hard!” You groaned possibly for the eighth time after struggling to extract the sap from the Tailtomortencia.

It was nine after, you and your boyfriend have been ‘tutoring’ for the past four hours, but still with no avail. You scrunched your nose as you watched Neville took one part of the plant, curled it up gently, and squeezed it while catching the familiar, purplish sap in a medium sized vial. He glanced at you, and motions you to follow suit.

“..what?”

“If you don’t at least show me that you can do this, we might be stuck here all night, and I know you’re not a morning person.” Neville chuckled causally, earning a playful glare from you.

With a dramatic sigh, you pulled the pot containing the plant towards you, and with slight disgust, you followed his instructions. After some effort, you watched as the sap slowly dripping down into the remaining space inside the vial. With bright smile plastered on your face, you hugged your boyfriend with excitement, ignoring his surprised oomph. Neville quickly wrapped his arms around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, nearly lifting you off the ground before pulling away.

“We better get back, it’s way past curfew, and even if Professor Snape and McGonagall not murdering us for returning so late, Umbridge will certainly not react the same.” He said, concern dawning his features.

Nodding in agreement, you gave his hand a light squeeze and pulled your boyfriend towards the exit.

The walk felt long, and unsurprisingly quiet. Both of you scanned left and right for any sign of Prefects, Filch, or worse, the she-devil herself. The dimly lit hallway left you alert, listening for any sound around you other than the not-so-subtle snores from the portraits. Nothing, that is, except the light footsteps against the stone floor.

Then, a faint meow was heard.

The two of you jumped, suddenly remembered a familiar caretaker that owns a feline.

“Mrs. Norris.” You cursed under your breath.

Neville, however, frantically began to pull you along as he picked up the pace, panic replaced his usual features. Soon, the two of you streaked towards the direction of the Entrance Hall, zig-zagging from one corridor to the other in attempt to lose the blasted cat. In the distance, you spotted the familiar hallway that would be your saving grace of the night.

C’mon, you breathed, almost there...

“Hem hem, and where do you think the two of you are heading?”

Umbridge.

Neville stuttered to a stop, resulting you to bump into his back. Your hands are still linked, though bit more loose than before. This was it, you brought your head to meet the high inquisitor’s in an innocent fashion, while taking a short, but reassuring glance to Neville, who was still slight pale with shock.

“Mr. Longbottom, as the high inquisitor of Hogwarts, I expect student to follow my rules.” She said in faux sweetness. “ I noticed, one, you have been holding...is it Ms. l/n ‘s hand, and two, both of you are out and about way past curfew hours. According to Educational Decree number twenty six, no boy and girl shall be eight inches within each other, and let me remind you that holding hands is being less than eight inches within each other.”

“W-we were out tutoring Professor,” Neville answered respectfully. “ We lost track of time, I hope it is forgiven.”

“And you were tutoring because?”

“Actually, professor, he was tutoring me.” you interjected.

Umbridge finally turned towards you, her small, beady eyes stared at you curiously for a moment before a faux smile plastered on her round face.

“You can let go of Mr. Longbottom’s hand now, Ms l/n, no types of affection can go unnoticed by me; “ she said,“ Now, what are you....being tutored for?”

“Herbology, professor.”

Umbridge proceeded to hesitate, as if lost in thought, before responding once more. “I see. Judging by me previous observations, you don’t seemed to pay too much attention during that class. Perhaps that’s why you needed Mr. Longbottom’s assistance?”

“No professor, it was because I was confuse on the matter of extracting the sap from Tailomortencia, that’s why I asked for Neville’s help.”

“Peculiar...Slytherin and a Gryffindor ending up together....Well, in that case, both of your head of the house - Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, is it? - will be notified of this incident. Like all mistakes, this will have consequences, including a week of detention with me, and a month’s suspension of all extracurricular activities, in addition to the twenty points will be respectively taken from each of your houses.”

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach. Three punishments, just for breaking two rules?! Just when you’d think this lady was bad enough, her punishments seemed to get even worse. Beside you, Neville paled significantly, and seemed to be sweating in panic. Fuming, you turned to a smirking Madame Toad in protest.

“Professor, in my defense, your punishment is severe for two students who had only broken two rules. Neville’s got nothing to do with this, I asked him to tutor me, so it should me, not him get detention.”

Umbridge stood before you, silent, emotionless. Her eyes seemed to be calculating, for she kept eyeing you both. For seconds it was just like this: Umbridge glancing back and forth between the two of you while you glanced defiantly back. After what felt like eternity, she smiled sardonically.

“..Reasonable excuse, I’ll be sure to keep this in mind when I report to your head of the house tomorrow morning, but this consequence will make an example of the school to not ever challenge ministry’s Educational Decrees. Now run along, the two of you will start the punishment on Monday.”

The rest was a blur. The two of you managed to trudge your way back to the Entrance Hall, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. Neville had stayed silent the whole time, with occasional glances met by yours. You stood next to him at the foot of the staircase, unsure what to do next.

“...Are you alright, Neville?” you asked tentatively.

“Relieved, I guess....y/n, what if they find out?” he replied softly, a sad smile spread across his face. “What if everything changes tomorrow?”

You gently turned the teen to face you, and rested your hand on his shoulder.

“Neville, you are possibly the kindest person I’ve ever met. We’ve been through loads together, and now you’re telling me you’re afraid of tomorrow? Never mind ‘bout the others, Neville, you have me and that’s all it matters. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

You felt two strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. Smiling, you snaked your arms around his back. It was all you needed, after the chaos that had just happened.

“ I love you, y/n.” He murmured next to your ear, letting out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for today to end this way.”

“Never be sorry, Neville, I love you too.”

Short Bonus:

“Really? Longbottom. You’re dating Longbottom.” Daphne whispered to you as the two of you sat in the Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade.

Words had gotten out about your detention since Professor Snape gave you a pointed look during breakfast (after his glare to Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor table - the usual), and it wasn’t long before Daphne cornered you inside the pub, insisting that you tell her the truth.

“Yes, really. I’ve been dating Neville since last year. Being one of the smartest girls in our year, I thought you’d figure it out by now.”

Daphne jabbed you playfully, nearly knocking over the butter beer you were about to drink. “Not cool. But why, out of everyone, you choose Longbottom? Not to mention the fact that he’s a Gryffindor?”

You rolled your eyes before setting down your drink. “Well first, he’s not a snob like a certain Draco Malfoy (or constantly talks about Potter for that matter), or disinterested like Nott and Zabini, and let’s face it, I’m nowhere compatible with Crabbe or Goyle.”

Daphne snorted.

“Plus, when you actually get to know him well enough, he is intelligent, caring, and great to hang out with.”

“Whatever, at least now you’re not unhappily single like Parkinson, no offense to her that is.”

The two of you snickered as you paid for your drink and exited through the door.

“By the way, have you seen the gorgeous golden chocolate frogs that just arrived at Honeydukes? It’s amazing!”

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araminia16 · 6 years

Text

Of Secrets and Ice Cream

Hey look. One reviewer asked for this talk between Joyce and Eleven. It’s still on the vein of the last story and I hope you enjoy it.

XxOxX

When Eleven had asked Hopper if she could go see Will’s mom the day after she started to bleed he almost threw her into his vehicle and raced to her house. Breakfast had been especially awkward and her cramps had only gotten a little better in the morning from before. Mostly she just curled up on his seat because the pressure seemed to help. She smiled to herself when she thought of the other thing that had helped her. Mike’s presence seemed to just make everything better somehow. The bad things were always less so when they were together. But she could tell that he was uncomfortable with everything but despite that he stayed with her. Every day her feelings for him grew and grew and if they grew much more she could swear that her heart would burst.

They pulled up in front of the Byer’s house and Hopper got out of the car and made his way to the door. He knocked a few times and Eleven opened her car door and slid out of the car. The door opened to reveal Will.

“Hey, kid. Your mom home?”

“Yeah. She’s got to work later but she’s in the shower right now. I’ll get her.”

“No, kid. Let her shower in peace. You mind if we come in and wait.”

“No. Hey Eleven.” He smiled and waved at her.

She gave him a small smile and waved back. “Hey Will. Did you sleep okay?”

“Oh yeah. Like a rock. Scary movies aren’t so scary when you’ve had to survive in a toxic alternate dimension for a week chased by a mouth-faced monster.” He shrugged and opened the door more to let the two of them in.

Eleven still felt guilty about that. It was her fault all everything happened with the gate. But he didn’t seem to hold anything against her. If anything he was probably the next closest friend to her from Mike. But Mike was her boyfriend. And that was different.

Father and daughter walked into the warm house and they took up residence in the living room. Will chattered animatedly about some new drawings that he had been working on and when Joyce Byers entered the room she was refreshed and surprised to find company.

“Jim. What are you doing here? Oh, hello sweetheart.” She greeted Eleven physically first with a warm hug then gave one to Hopper.

“She has some things she has to ask you about and maybe you could do me a favor too.”

“Favor? What is it?”

“Here.” He pulled Nancy’s note from his pocket and handed it to Joyce. She read it and comprehension dawned on her slowly before she raised her head to look at the two visitors. “Uh. Sure. I can go get that for her but you do realize that this will be a continuous thing. It’s what happens when you take in girls you know. You have to deal with all of that.”

“Yeah. I know. But I don’t know what to get and I--.”

“It’s fine Jim. I’ll help her out.” She turned to Eleven with a warm gaze, “Now. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. It was a bit scary last night and everything but Nancy helped a lot. She showed me how to put a pad in and gave me a few to take home. And Mike helped me feel better too.”

“Good. Sometimes I think we all forget that you had a different sort of childhood than the rest of us. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

She nodded and out of the corner of her eye saw Will looking very very confused.

“Hey, Will. You want to come with me for a bit? The girls are going to talk.” Hopper was very nearly jumping out of his skin to get out of there.

Will nodded slowly and got up. “Bring him back in an hour.” Joyce ordered.

Jim nodded and he hurried Will out the door.

Joyce watched them leave and motioned for Eleven to sit back down and sat down next to her. “I have to say I’ve never really thought much about having to give a talk like this. With boys the talk goes a bit differently.”

“Boys are different.”

“Very much so. Now are you sure that you are okay? Having any cramps? Or feeling a little off?”

“Yeah. But I’ll be okay. Nancy told me that they only last for a few days. And that it’s going to happen every month. Which is totally stupid and I don’t like it.”

Joyce laughed, “It doesn’t get any less stupid over time. It just becomes more of an annoyance.”

“Nancy also said that I could have a baby now if I wanted.”

“Technically yes. That is true. But you are too young for that. You need to get done growing before you think about babies, sweetheart.”

“She said that too.”

“Well she’s right. Babies are a lot of responsibility and they take up a lot of time and you worry about them so much. Every hour of every day. And you have to teach them everything, how to eat, play, laugh, deal with the messes and the tantrums and the lack of sleep. Be a kid. Don’t try to grow up too fast.”

Eleven nodded and thought about how she should ask her next question. They only had an hour before the other two would be back. “She also said something else. About how she didn’t want to think of Mike having sex. But she wouldn’t tell me what that meant.”

Joyce’s eyes widened slightly and she cleared her throat, “Well. That’s a…That’s a lot for someone to explain.”

“What is it? Sex?”

“Well. Uh. It’s not really something you should worry about.”

“Well how do I not worry about it if I don’t even know what I’m not worrying about?”

Joyce had to begrudgingly agree and she gave a half shrug, “Jim’s going to kill me.” She took a deep breath and took Eleven’s hands in hers before making sure that she was looking the teenager in the eye. “Sex is what people do to make babies. It’s between a man and woman. And you should only do it if you are ready for it. You shouldn’t do anything that you aren’t comfortable with and if some boy tries to pressure you into having sex before you are ready you punch him in the nose or throw him across the room with your powers.”

Eleven laughed. “So is it bad?”

“It can be. But it can also be wonderful.” Eleven watched Will’s mom smile slightly.

“How?”

“Okay. If Jim asks then we didn’t talk about this, okay?”

“A lie?”

“No. Not a lie. A secret. Just between us. Like a special promise, okay?”

“A secret.” Eleven nodded eager to hear what she had to say.

“It should always be wonderful. It’s what happens between two people who love each other very much. It is sort of like telling them that you love them most of all and that you want to share something special with them and it can make you feel really good.”

“Love.” She hummed out, thinking of Mike. She might not have known what the word was when she first stumbled onto him in the rain but she knew now and she loved him even then.

“I’m going to tell you that you should be married before you have sex but that would make me a hypocrite. But I’ll still tell you that it would be a good idea.”

“Why? If it is something you do with someone you love who loves you back isn’t it a good thing?”

“Because sex comes with a lot more stuff than just babies. You have to be ready here,” Joyce tapped the side of her head. “And here.” She tapped her heart. “And that takes time.”

“So is it like kissing then? When Mike kisses me it makes me feel happy. And when he holds my hand and when we sit next to each other.”

“Sort of. It’s more than kissing. A lot more.”

“So how does it work?”

“Do you know the difference between boys and girls?”

Eleven nodded. “I have breasts.” They were small but there, “And a vagina and uterus. I read about the body in a book. Men don’t have breasts and they have a penis instead of a vagina.”

“Well. The mechanics are pretty simple. Sex is when the penis goes into the vagina and repeats for a little while.” The barest of basics was all Joyce was prepared to cover. Her parents did a pretty shitty job of explaining sex to her and that ended so very well. She had to do better by this girl in front of her.

“How?”

Joyce barked out a laugh and she continued to chuckle while trying to catch her breath, “Oh, sweetheart. You’ll find out. It takes some work sometimes though.”

“Is that all?” It didn’t sound very scary or complicated.

“Well that’s the basics. I’m not telling you how to seduce your boyfriend.”

“Seduce?”

“You’ll have to look it up.”

Eleven nodded. “I love Mike. But we shouldn’t have sex because we aren’t old enough? How do I show him that I think he’s more special than anyone else then? If sex is what you do when you love someone? I like to show Mike that I love him. He’s always doing so many nice things for me.”

Joyce’s heart warmed and she gave the girl a bright smile, “He already knows that. Trust me. The way you look each other would put most couples to shame. He already stares at you like you are his entire world and when you were apart he was a shell of himself. You are the most important person in his life. You don’t need to have sex to tell him that. And never think you have to even if you hear the other girls talk about it. And personally I doubt Mike has thought much about it. Now. Any more questions right now?”

Eleven shook her head, “Thank you.”

“No problem. And if you ever need any more girl talk from someone older than you then you know where to find me, okay? Oh. And when you do have sex, a few years from now make sure you have condoms. It’s a big step and you don’t need an extra surprise from it.”

“I guess I do have another question.”

“Go for it.”

“Sometimes after Mike kisses me I feel really tingly all over and when I get home it doesn’t go away and it makes it hard for me to sleep.”

“Do you…do you touch anywhere or does he touch you when you kiss?”

“No. Well sometimes he holds my hand or brings his hand up to my neck when he kisses me.”

“Sometimes it is a good idea to explore your body on your own. Figure out how everything works and not just by reading about it. It doesn’t have to be anything special but when you are alone just…explore.” Joyce finished lamely, her cheeks finally starting to heat up trying to explain masturbation to a fourteen year old girl who just got her period and knew nothing about it.

“Okay.” She nodded, confused but excited to find out more about all these things that made everyone blush so much.

Joyce hugged Eleven and pulled her back to give her another warm smile. “How about we break out some ice cream and listen to the radio until the boys get back?”

“Yes.” Eleven nodded eagerly and Joyce let her go to go into the kitchen and bring out a whole container of chocolate ice cream and two spoons. She handed all of it to Eleven and went to turn on the radio.

“No bowls?”

“Nah. I don’t want to have to do more dishes later. Or make the boys do it. This works fine.” They grinned at each other and sat down on the couch to bounce to the beat. Eleven felt very lucky to have Will’s mom here for her since her mama was sick.

Hopper and Will came back not long later and found the two with a half eaten carton of ice cream and dancing in the living room. Women were so strange.

#eleven #stranger things #s2 #joyce byers #joyce and eleven have the talk #Hopper is an awkward dad #mike/eleven #eleven has no filter

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