#I love how quickly people toss me aside after they think they’ve used me for all I’ve got | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladybugout-au · 3 years

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Dear. GOD. After seeing Furious Fu, I would honestly love to see LBO!Marinette just chewing out Su-Han for all his canon-to-fic BULLSHIT. Like, I know you’ve already got a plan to incorporate Feast into LBO, which I’m super excited for, so this asshole showing up with all his nonsense after the new Team Miraculous is set, hell maybe even after they’ve already retrieved the Butterfly and the Peacock, and watching Marinette (and possibly Fu since he has the memories to stand up for himself) tear this dude a new one would really be the cherry on top of an already awesome fic. Sorry to rant in your inbox lol but the new episode just made me so. ANGRY.

In the lounge room of the Liberty, everyone jumped as they heard a noise from up above deck, as if something heavy had fallen or been dropped. Marinette briefly pulled away from Luka’s hold, staring up at the ceiling and wondering aloud, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Juleka admitted, exchanging concerned looks with Rose.

“That definitely wasn’t Mom,” Luka noted with a tilt of his head.

Pounding footsteps followed, making it clear that a person had clearly gotten on the houseboat without the gangplank being there.

Nino jolted on alert, turning to Duusu with a hushed whisper. “Hide!”

“All of you,” Kagami began, standing up and looking around vaguely at every kwami. “get out of sight.”

The kwami, breaking out of their trance after the brief scare, scattered in every direction to find their own individual hiding places, some choosing to hide with their respective holder and others preferring to hide behind or inside objects. Ivan went into his usual protective mode, wrapping an arm around Mylene while she clung to him.

Marinette stood up, rushing over to the table and picking up the Miracle Box to stow it away. She looked around, then dashed for the microwave and stored the box inside.

She shut the door just in time for the intruder to descend from the staircase: an old man, dressed in Chinese garb and carrying a strange mystical-looking staff. He had a stern expression, his brows knitted together as he scanned the room like none of them were even there. He raised his staff, his gaze eventually locking on the microwave the Marinette was standing near.

Without a word, he pushed Marinette aside, earning an offended, “Excuse me—hey!” from her as he grabbed the microwave door and tugged it. When that did little more than jostle the microwave itself, he tried blindly tampering with the buttons to no avail.

Marinette slapped his wrist away, standing with all her pride as guardian as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He glared at her in response. “Young lady, I demand you open your magical sealing chamber and return what’s rightfully mine!”

She blanked, the words catching her completely off-guard. This guy thought their microwave was a magical sealing chamber?

In response, Marinette gave a brief glance to the others, who were all looking back at her with equally puzzled expressions, any tension from before completely gone.

An unspoken question echoed throughout the room: Is he for real?

Before Marinette could ask any further, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot, flying over and explaining, “Marinette, I know who this is! This is great master Su-Han, the guardian of the Miracle Box!”

Marinette raised a brow skeptically. “But I’m the guardian?”

“He was responsible for the box before the incident that Master Fu caused,” she corrected.

Su-Han looked down at Marinette condescendingly. “So you are the current holder of the box.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed unapologetically. She gave a side-glance to Luka and the others, seeing that they were prepared to stand up and fight for her, but she gave a subtle gesture to let them know that it wasn’t necessary. Resolving to deal with Su-Han herself, she faced him again. “How did you find us?”

He held out his staff, the jewel on it mere centimeters from her face. “Guardian scepters are equipped with compasses that can find their Miracle Box at any given time.”

“In case you lose it?” Marinette blurted out, but didn’t apologize or try to take it back.

“Insolent!” Su-Han gasped. “You are not even a proper guardian. I can tell that this box hasn’t even been properly passed down to you!”

“Because Master Fu gave it to me,” she explained, “and we agreed that he should keep his memories.”

“Fu?” Su-Han echoed. “You mean Wang Fu? Chicken legs?”

Is this guy five? Marinette wondered.

Orikko popped out from their hiding place, waving a paw at Su-Han as if in warning. “I take offense to that!”

Su-Han glared at Orikko at the comment, and Orikko quickly ducked back down. Turning his attention back to Marinette, he continued, “Wang Fu is a student who wasn’t even able to fast for a day, nor do a thousand finger-pushups. He was never a rightful guardian, and he failed to fulfill the hope we’d seen in him.”

“Master Fu may have made mistakes, but he’s done his best to make up for all of them!” she argued. “He protected the box for over one hundred years and it’s because of his choices that our team was able to defeat Hawk Moth!”

“Team?” Su-Han asked, his face scrunching up as if he were piecing something together.

“Yes!”

Marinette gestured to her boyfriend and friends for emphasis. Luka, Ivan, Kagami, and Juleka stood while Rose and Nino pinched and stretched their shirts to show off their respective miraculouses.

“Children?” Su-Han gaped. Glaring at Marinette, as if she had personally given out the miraculouses herself, he declared, “Children are never meant to hold miraculouses, especially from the first and most powerful Miracle Box! Kwami are extremely powerful, cosmic creatures!”

A voice piped up from across the room. “Y-you say that, but—!”

Marinette and Su-Han turned to look at Nooroo, who had peeked out from behind Rose’s shoulder. He breathed up, seeming to gain some confidence, then floated out to the center of the room.

“They saved me and Duusu from the hands of evil! We would still be in Gabriel’s clutches if not for them!”

“What?” Su-Han asked. Just when Marinette thought they might be getting somewhere, he turned back to her and accused, “The peacock and butterfly were lost?!”

“Fu lost them when he was escaping the temple,” Marinette explained, a mixture between unphased and annoyed at the man’s outbursts, “but we got them back and everything’s okay now.”

Luka chimed in from his place near the couch, “Marinette has been an incredible leader, as both Ladybug and the guardian.”

She smiled at him in thanks, but Su-Han was clearly focused on anything but the positives.

“Ladybug? You’re even wearing a miraculous?! Guardians aren’t meant to hold miraculouses!” he said, throwing his arms out for effect.

“What—why?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Instead of answering her, Su-Han pulled out a book, shoving it pointedly towards her with the cover facing downwards in his palm. “Let me remind you of a few important rules you’ve violated.” He flipped through a few pages, then pointed at one of them. “Rule fourteen: Kwami must not live outside of the box.” He flipped through a few more. “Rule fifty-two: Guardians must never lose a miraculous. “He flipped to a page near the end. “Rule one hundred and thirty-three: Guardians must never, under any circumstances, wear a miraculous.”

“Master Fu wore a miraculous,” she argued, having never heard of any such rule from him.

“And that proves exactly what I’m talking about!” Su-Han retorted. “Neither you nor Fu are capable guardians because neither of you have respected the rules of the order!”

“...”

When Marinette initially imagined the Order of the Guardians and the people who ran it, this was not what she’d pictured. She had pictured zen and calm, not belligerent and immovable. She was reminded vaguely of her grandfather when she first met him, and that wasn’t a good thing.

She tossed another gaze at everyone, who gave her the same look and nod in response: let him have it.

“Young lady, I’ll repeat myself once,” Su-Han warned. “Return the Miracle Box and the miraculouses to me before--”

Marinette grabbed the book out of his hand, shut it with a satisfying “clap,” then set it back in his hand. “No.“

“What did you say?” he asked, aghast that she would speak to him that way.

“I said no.” Marinette advanced on him, the sheer force of her presence making him take a step back. “Now let me remind you about everything you must’ve missed this whole time.”

She raised a finger at him, raising additional fingers as she went on. “One: You intruded on my boyfriend’s house without any sort of permission. If you’d actually called out to us, we might’ve actually been willing to come out and listen to what you had to say. Two: You wouldn’t have even been able to be here in the first place if not for me using Miraculous Ladybug after our team took down Feast, which you weren’t able to do. Three: We aren’t children, we’re teenagers, and the fact that you can’t tell the difference or bother learning what technology is shows that I shouldn’t trust you with the Miracle Box even if you had a right to it. Four: You didn’t bother to listen and blamed me for losing miraculouses when it was you and your order who didn’t keep an eye on a poor boy who didn’t want to be there. Five, last but not least: I say the kwami are allowed out of the Miracle Box because I am the guardian. You and your order have been gone for over one hundred years and you can’t go making demands after I brought you back. You told me rules I didn’t even know about and didn’t explain why you have those rules in the first place. The kwami are my friends and they have feelings and I’m not going to shut them in a box because you told me to.”

Silence filled the room, no one saying a word and Su-Han’s face contorting between shock and outrage.

Marinette took a step back, standing at the ready and gesturing to herself. “So if you want the Miracle Box, you’re going to have to go through us first.”

She tossed a look at her team, all of them doing a synchronized, confrontational motion to face Su-Han.

“Tikki!”

“Plagg!”

“Wayzz!”

“Pollen!”

“Trixx!”

“Nooroo!”

“Duusu!”

They then shouted in unison, “Transform me!”

Several individual flashes meshed together, overtaking the room and then fading to leave several heroes behind, their weapons equipped for battle.

Su-Han looked amongst them, a flicker in his eyes that hinted that he knew he would be outmatched, but also wasn’t willing to admit it. He retreated a few steps back, hands out to show that he was prepared to defend himself.

It was at that moment that Ladybug heard and noticed movement from behind him, realization striking and a smile overtaking her face. Pulling back from her fighting pose, she placed a hand on her hip and stated confidently, “Captain Anarka will escort you out.”

He looked confused, and he was only able to let out a, “What—?” before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Su-Han wasn’t even able to turn around before he was pulled backward, a jewelry-adorned fist decking him in the face and sending him flying into the staircase. His scepter fell to the floor and he could only gape at the woman standing there, cracking her knuckles while he was sprawled out on the stairs with all air having been knocked out of him.

“A trespasser on my ship, eh?” Anarka asked, a grin on her face but her eyes glinting with malice. “I don’t take kindly to ship rats who threaten my crew and think they’re too good to walk the plank.”

Su-Han hurried to get up, only for Anarka to grab him by his shirt and haul him up the stairs, a rapid shuffling noise following as Ladybug went over and shut the door.

A few seconds passed and the atmosphere shifted to peace, everyone mutually releasing their transformations and relaxing. Marinette smiled reassuringly at everyone, letting them know that things were okay, but then jumped as she heard a resounding, “Marinette!”

The kwami all emerged from their hiding places, Marinette having no time to react as they all charged at her, their tiny bodies clinging affectionately to whatever they could grab of her.

“You’re amazing!”

“Thank you so much!”

“You stood up for us!”

“You’re the best guardian ever!”

Marinette gasped, finding it hard to move without disturbing any of them. Trying hard not to laugh, she protested, “Aha—hey! Stop, you’re all tickling me!”

She blushed, looking over at her teammates who were only staring at her with pride, which just made the pink on her cheeks turn red. “This is so embarrassing!”

Once the kwami had their fill of thanking her, they finally obeyed and flew away, each giving her smiles of approval. She covered her face with a hand, waiting for the shyness to die down, then noticed the guardian scepter out of the corner of her eye, still lying on the ground.

She approached, touching the scepter at first to make sure it was safe, then properly picking it up and letting it stand next to her. She tapped the gem on top, eyeing the compass that Su-Han had been talking to her about, then followed its direction back to the microwave. She walked over, opening it up, then took out the Miracle Box and held it in her free hand.

Looking back and forth between the two clearly ancient objects, she couldn’t help chuckling. “They don’t really suit me.”

Her friends giggled in response, Luka in particular shooting her a warm smile and approaching. One of his hands went to the scepter and the other went to rest on the Miracle Box.

“I think you make them work, actually,” he replied.

Marinette beamed at him, thoroughly warmed by the compliment. It didn’t feel like that long ago when her support was lacking and defeating Hawk Moth seemed like a pipe dream.

Now, holding the Miracle Box and scepter in her hands, she didn’t know why she’d ever doubted herself.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then, looking at the Su-Han-less room, she gave a shrug and walked back with Luka to the couch. “So, where were we?”

#((Technically spoilers for post-Hawk Moth stuff but nothing you guys don't already know.))#((For the record anon I'm still debating on doing ''Feast''))#((because it's a direct episode rewrite which LadyBugOut doesn't have so I'm nervous about it))#((I figured this might be a good start though.))#((I imagine Team Miraculous would have everything resolved by the time S4E6 hits))#((so hence the time jump.))#collab: LadyBugOut AU #canonicity: all #canonicity: canon compliant #writing: all #writing: canon compliant #writing: salt #character: marinette dupain cheng #group: team miraculous #salt: all #salt: other

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 3 - F#$k the Police

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: What’s happening in Romania? For awhile you’ve had the best time with Bucky all to yourself, but now, it appears the world is not done with you two just yet.

Warning: tinge of fluff, violence, fighting, reader being a bad bitch, Bucky going through it, Steve metaphorically herding cats (Bucky, reader, T’Challa), some google translate (I hope its right)

Masterlist

Leaning against a telephone poll, you adjust your darkly tinted sunglasses before stuffing your hands back into your jacket pockets. Hood up and stance as casual as ever while you patiently await your dark haired lover, who at this moment happens to be purchasing some plump and juicy looking plums.

Doing his best to appear relatively unrecognizable, Bucky walks over to you in his usual faded ball-cap, layered jacket, and black gloves while you give him a nod of acknowledgment as he quickly approaches. Soon he’s by your side and the two you begin walking towards the street where you’ll be crossing.

“Y/N, you think these ones will taste good?” Wonders Bucky as he shifts his gaze to you for a wise answer, like you magically are able to tell if these random plums are sour or not.

You shrug, “Probably.”

He stares uncertainly down at the plums, “They were kind of sour last time.”

Throwing him a humored glance, you keep walking, “Did you tell her that? Maybe she would have given these ones to you for free.”

“Well.....no.”

Retrieving your dark tinted sunglasses from the bridge of your nose before shoving them in a pocket, you throw a glance back over at the plum cart, nudging Bucky, “I’ll steal some again and then we’ll compare what days they taste good and what days they taste bad. Maybe that will help out your plum dilemma.”

“You’ve stolen plums before?” Whispers Bucky in bewilderment like you just stabbed a guy in broad daylight, “Y/N.” He whines, “We can’t be stealing things! We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Rolling your amused eyes at his fearful concern over something so tiny, you playfully tug against his grey jacket, “Stealing some plums is the least unlawful thing I have ever done moya lyubov' now come on.” You muse with a reassuring grin.

Wanting to protest, he chooses against it when he hears you call him my love in Russian; that’s new, he think warmly, you’ve never said anything that deeply intimate before. He could certainly get used to it.

Coming to a halt, the two of you patiently wait for the roadway to clear up, but while you’re standing there in the open, you skillfully take notice of some man in his mid thirties with a half eaten lollipop positioned in his right hand. He leans against the counter from behind a newspaper stand, where two curious greyish blue eyes give yourself and then Bucky a wary look as he begins to squint suspiciously. Soon his gaze trails over you both again like he’s trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle, but can’t quite tell just yet which piece goes next. How odd, you think.

“Nothing is ever odd, there is reason for everyone’s intricate behavior, always be on guard.” Speaks a whisper from your past days training with Hydra.

Glancing over to Bucky, you notice as he starts to appear rather uncomfortable since he’s realized the stranger is staring. What a nosy little weasel, why would he give a shit about us? Tugging on his sleeve, you begin taking the lead across the four-way, the weaselly looking mans eyes go wide in genuine fear as he turns and books it out of the booth like a bat out of hell. Racing past annoyed civilians as they go about their normal business.

Brows furrowed in confusion you hastily reach the newspaper stand and flip a paper around only to be greeted with greatly troubling words printed aggressively in big black letters reading...

-WINTER SOLDIER CÂUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENNA-

...with a blurred security footage picture of Bucky’s shadowed face walking suspiciously by a white van in presumably a parking garage.

On further inspection lower down the page, you take notice of the alarming words below, translating to...

-On international watchlist; Possible accomplice suggested at place of crime, Y/N Valerious is being investigated into for feasible involvement with one credited for bombing. Investigators advise great caution if seen and require a report immediately upon recognition.-

Paired with a blurred fuzzy head shot taken from CCT footage in 1997 after you sliced your way through a notorious drug cartel in Colombia.

Shit. And how the fuck did they find that picture?

Bucky quickly rips it out of your hands and stares frustratingly at the parchment, eyes focused on the concerning news as he flickers his attention back down at you, “Y/N?” He mutters uncertainly, face appearing increasingly distraught as he looks to you for an answer.

Glancing warily around the crowded area, you swallow nervously before finding his uneasy gaze once again, “I really need to stop speaking ahead of myself....fuck.....we need to leave.” You urge, tugging on his arm to move, you let go as the two of you head back to your shared apartment.

Eyes glancing warily around you the whole way there.

——

Walking quickly up the steps, you suddenly catch the scent of an unknown man leading right into the cracked door of your apartment, Bucky halts as you remain still as stone, nose crinkling as you test the air.

“Y/N?” He whispers unsurely as you shush him.

Sensing this stranger isn’t here to fight due to the lack of aggressor pheromones extruding from out of his system, you both cautiously walk into the room, on guard as you move more silently then an owl in flight, he doesn’t hear a thing. Quickly you visually analyze a tall man in dark blue with a helmet tightly fitted against his head, standing relatively still with his back turned to you two. A familiar shield held strongly from his left forearm as his head looks down at the journal positioned in his right hand.

Bucky’s journal.

Standing defensively side by side with Bucky, the uniformed man suddenly turns around; his eyes are a dark ocean, yet soft and set; a faded white A sits just above his eyes and a dull white star appears in the center chest area of his stealth suit. This is without a failing doubt Captain America, but what does he want with you two?

Breathing steadily he gives the two of you a once over before focusing on Bucky, “Do you know me?” He asks, voice calm and collected. Not an ounce of aggression.

Your eyes flicker cautiously from Bucky then back to the stranger as he takes a slow breath, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

[They’ve set the perimeter] -speaks a disembodied voice from Steve’s earpiece, only yourself and Steve are able to pick it up.

What the fuck does that mean?

The American sets Bucky’s journal onto the kitchen table as he shifts in place, your fists instinctively clench in preparation for a possible clash as Steve’s perceptive gaze shifts warily from your hands up to your watchful glare; he must know about you, “I’m not here to fight.” Confirms Steve with a small nod before turning to Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna, we both weren’t. I don’t do that anymore.” Mumbles Bucky truthfully, you’ve been with him for months now and neither of you have even left the city so how the hell did his blurry photo get printed onto the daily newspaper?

[They’re entering the building.] -speaks the voice.

Steve takes an urgent yet cautious step forward, clearly something terrible is about to go down for the three of you, if the guy on the ear piece wasn’t telling enough, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. For both of you. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.” Warns Steve sincerely, voice steady and true.

Bucky’s lips nervously purse together as he mutters unenthusiastically, “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

[They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.]- says the voice, more urgently this time.

Suddenly your ears pick up the sounds of heavy boots as they pound against the large spiraled staircase, squeezing your eyes shut in irritated anticipation, you open them to face the soldier, “Well this is fucking fantastic.” You seethe through clenched teeth, accent dripping strong as you shake your head in frustration.

Steve gives the two of you a pleading look, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He urges as you both stand like a nervous predator, unsure if their prey is going to put up a deadly brawl to the death or not.

Giving him a hooded grimace, your eyes shift from the front door then back to him as you begrudgingly mutter, “It always ends in a fight.”

Looking away, he nods towards Bucky, “You pulled me from the river.” Starts Steve as Bucky hastily removes the black glove covering his metal arm, “Why?”

Bucky huffs, reluctant eyes dancing over to Steve’s, “I don’t know.”

[Three seconds!]- says the voice.

“Yes, you do.”

[Breach! Breach! Breach!]

Yells the voice frantically just as the left window shatters as some can sized metal bomb crashes onto the floor, the three of you immediately turn towards the harmful object right as Bucky kicks it, Steve coming to the rescue as he covers the bomb with his shield. Boom! It goes off, leaving everyone to live another day, or at least for the next minute.

A second later you hear insistent shouting in German just as Bucky grabs the mattress, he shields himself with it as his other hand pulls you to his chest protectively just as a destructively lesser bomb ignites against it from the now broken window.

Pulling out of his grasp, Bucky tosses it aside before kicking the small kitchen table where it lodges itself tightly against the front door. Turning towards the two windows positioned on your right, you’re immediately greeted with the breaking of glass as two heavily equipped combat police burst rudely into the room, heavily armored in tactical gear and ready to kill.

Well, shit.

At an inhuman speed you swiftly grab the first mans gun and point the steel barrel upwards just as he shoots, avoiding killing Bucky if you were a second late; your eyes turn angry as you swing your fist, knocking him unconscious from your blow to his helmet.

The second man shoots a line of bullets that scream angrily into the ceiling when Steve thrusts his gun away from you two, knocking him out in the process. Immediately another soldier breaks into the room from the bathroom door by Steve, gun at the ready as Steve shoves his weapon to the side where Bucky then harshly kicks him in the chest. Sending the intruding soldier into the bathroom, presumably with a hefty concussion.

But before Bucky is able to continue onward, Steve quickly grabs his arm, “Buck, stop!” Instantly he twists out of Steve’s grasp, giving his old friend a deadly glare, “You’re gonna kill someone. Both of you!” He snaps, stormy eyes shifting from you to Bucky just as your Winter Soldier shoves him to the ground by his collar before lunching his metal arm violently into the floorboards right next to his head.

Glaring at Steve, he growls, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Before pulling his arm out of the broken wood, travel backpack in hand; he stands and immediately throws it out the broken window about ten stories onto another rooftop below.

Standing in the middle of the ruined apartment as you face them, another soldier crashes through the broken window to your left, Bucky and Steve brace for the worst as the man pauses for a moment, gun facing the floor. Moving swiftly, you quickly unsheathe your razor sharp Adamantium claws out of your right fist before cleanly slicing his weapon into three consecutive pieces.

Shouldn’t have hesitated fucker.

The broken gun clashes to the floor as the soldiers eyes flash with fear before you roughly push him against the wall, grimacing in anger, right hook cocked back as you suddenly thrust a clawed fist directly into his shoulder. He lets out a pained gravelly scream as you pull away to face Bucky and a wide eyed Steve, the injured soldier sliding down the wall to the floor as he applies pressure on his newly bleeding wound.

A second later two more men come racing into the room as your victim slumps to the side once you kick him in the head, unconscious but still breathing as small drops of blood seep out of his affected shoulder. He’s someone else’s problem now.

Steve raises his shield as bullets deflect off the metal, soon Bucky throws his metal arm up; deflecting multiple bullets as Steve takes out a guy on the balcony. Bucky in the meantime has managed to knock the gunman out with a cement brick as you retract your claws back into your fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Pounds loudly against the locked front door as bullets crash into the hinges, soon Bucky races for the thin wood and thrusts his metal fist into the door without a second thought. Seconds later he breaks down the door, knocking out two guys in the process as you slip past him and into the long staircase hallway that only goes in two consecutive directions, up or down.

Shit, more are coming up the stairs!

A soldier promptly breaks through the overhead glass window from the roof and ascends on a thick black rope, shooting at Bucky who easily deflects his bullets before you kick the man into the wall, knocking him out instantly. Body limp and peaceful as he hangs suspended mid-air in the center of the rounded stairwell, you quickly look down to witness the tiny army of combat police hellbent on ruining your perfectly fine day.

Well, not much of a fine day anymore.

Without time to process much, you watch as more soldiers charge up the stairs, guns ready to fire; suddenly Bucky jumps on the knocked out man hanging from the ceiling and falls to the next landing below as he uses the unconscious soldier for a sort of pully system, knocking out more police as they try and fight him off once he lands.

Blinking, you jump down without assistance but your own fearsome willpower before shoving a guy down the stairs, who conveniently trips up others in the process. But at least eight more are racing to finish their job, right on cue another soldier meets on your landing as Bucky fights off one from behind you.

Before he’s even able to pull the trigger, you’ve sliced his weapon in half, kicking him harshly into the wall, doing the same to his friend as you fight your way along the staircase, skillfully avoiding bullets and fists alike.

Turning around to the sounds of Bucky grunting, your eyes trail up and watch as he throws a man over the edge of the railing. But before anything bloody happens, Steve swiftly catches his dark collar much to your disappointment. He then heroically throws the man elsewhere as the fighting starts up again.

Soon Bucky nearly gets his lights knocked out as an armored gloved mitt comes flying for the back of his head; your fist however, breaks the guys jaw with a loud crack as you save your lover from an unfortunate injury. Bucky then gives you a quick nod of silent appreciation before you look up the staircase to see a disappointed Steve. oh, fuck off.

Huffing in irritation, you nudge Bucky to make a swift exit out of here; heeding to your urgent request he knocks another guy out before jumping down a multitude flight of stairs, grabbing onto the closest railing and tearing it back with a pained cry as he uses it to maneuver himself onto the landing.

Alright, time to go.

Breaking a soldiers arm, you proceed to do the same; arriving roughly on the cement landing as you skillfully tuck and roll before jumping up into a standing position and taking a moment to watch as Bucky races down the hallway before jumping off the corridor balcony.

Taking a deep breath in preparation for the jump to come, you book it down the same hallway and soon are free falling while quickly headed for the rooftop below. The damn roof ledge comes faster then you’d anticipated; landing hard against the protruding edge, you grunt in pain before rolling across the roof a couple feet while Bucky picks up his backpack mid run.

With no time to dwell on the burning ache in your shoulder, you push yourself from the ground as you race to catch up with Bucky who’s a good ten feet from you by now. He listens as you grumble a string of incomprehensible swears in displeasured Russian, but keeps running forward as he knows you’ll be right behind him in an instant.

Boots smacking hard against the rooftop cement, you’re almost caught up with Bucky when without so much as a warning does a dark silent shadow appear in your line of sight from directly above you, a second later you’re forcibly thrown into one of the metal conditioning system units, eyes wide and head in a daze. Only to be greeted with a man dressed in a black catlike stealth suit of some strange armor, where he soon begins hand to hand combat with Bucky.

Fuck that hurt. Asshole, you growl miserably.

Bucky dodges and throws skilled yet desperate punches at the mystery individual, although neither of them appear to take any real damage, fortunately for Bucky’s dwindling safety, but not for this other guy. Shaking the fuzziness out of your head, and ignoring the small trickle of blood leaving a red stain from the side of your temple, you hastily jump to your feet and charge the armored bastard as he throws Bucky into another conditioner unit.

Making a clean dent in the thin metal, Bucky’s eyes widen in genuine fear as the angry panther brings his shimmering silver clawed hand into the air, ready to strike. Cornered, Bucky braces for the worst with his metal arm blocking his face just as you seize the panthers forearm.

He abruptly turns his armored head towards you, and is thus kindly greeted with a swift punch to the face that sends him rolling across the rooftop a couple feet away from you and Bucky. Tumbling for a moment, he instantly regains his footing while silver colored claws slash thin sparking lines of gold across the cement as he stops dead in a predatory crouched position.

Well, now he really looks unhappy.

Bucky watches as the panther slowly rises to his feet, looking rather angered by your violent intrusion; breathing heavily, you stare down the fucker before a slow ‘shling’ sounds from out of your clenched fists. The panthers head tilts curiously, closely resembling that of an actual feline as he witnesses a total of six razor sharp claws protruding dangerously in the sunlight.

“Alright. Now we’re even.” You growl darkly as the panther charges for an attack, within seconds yours claws clash violently against his armor as he swipes for an opening to cause some real damage.

Bucky rises to his feet as he watches you and the panther fight like old enemies, sparks fly like confetti as your claws slash against his strange suit while the two of you dance in a rhythmic warriors tango, strangely on the rooftop of some Romanian hotel while Steve remains elsewhere for the time being.

Anticipating another blow from you, the panther blocks it and finally gets a clean shot of your face, soon you’re on the ground in a blurry daze before shaking your head while you rise to your hands and knees. Okay fuck this guy.

Drops of ruby red blood patter onto the cement as your face turns into a pissed off scowl, both the panther and Bucky watch in anticipation as you dramatically turn around to face them. Three clean slashes mark deep from your right hairline, across your cheek, where finally it relents at the base of your jaw.

You sneer in vexation as your skin fuses ripped muscle and blood vessels back together in a matter of seconds, then without warning does a helicopter appear from above where it rudely begins raining bullets onto the three of you.

Fuck this.

Luckily the artillery is deflected away from Bucky as it hits the panther first, unluckily for you, a couple strays vigorously drag themselves in and out of your shoulder and torso. A sharp white hot paint rips through your vessel causing your legs to buckle, falling to the ground, you instantly scream out in agony when the unpleasant sensation fully registers in your brain, as Bucky’s face turns to worry then anger.

Soon the bullets stop as the helicopter gets pushed off course by some man in a bird suit. Well today really couldn’t be any weirder, what’s next Ironman? You sarcastically think before reluctantly forcing yourself onto your feet only to be welcomed by the worried face of Bucky as he grabs your bleary attention, “Let’s go, we could make it to the underpass.” Affirms Bucky as your strength comes to you once again, muscles fusing back together, the pain fading swiftly.

“Yeah, fuck this.” You retort as he turns and swiftly jumps off the roof and onto another ledge below a you do the same, claws slashing down the buildings side as you do so. But all too soon are you greeted by the metal on metal screeching of the panthers claws as he slides down the side of the same apartment building, closer then you’d like. “Fuck.” You mutter, deeply irritated by this dickhead who won’t give either of you a break.

Not wanting to face the wrath of his shiny sharp claws, you quickly retract yours before you and Bucky instantly turn and jump the rest of the way down, landing skillfully onto the grey sidewalk below before booking it out of there as the panther aggressively chases onward. Steve not far behind, though you don’t care nor have the time to look.

Racing across the city road, bullets fly by the two of you as the opening to the cities subterranean underpass greets you with open arms. Shuffling past some small bushes, Bucky jumps down first, you right behind him as your world turns into a hasty blur. Soon everything comes to an abrupt halt once your boots smack hard against the surface of the roads blacktop.

The sounds of angry car horns blare loudly in your ears as a couple vehicles swerve to the side, just narrowly missing yourself and Bucky, “Come on!” You shout urgently before twisting around and booking it down the underpass with Bucky close behind.

Running at an inhuman speed, you pass cars and trucks alike as they swerve to avoid the two of you, about fifteen seconds later you’re greeted to the all to familiar whirring sounds noisily emitting from the local police cruisers as they hastily follow yourself, Bucky, Steve, and the panther across the highway tunnel.

“Ugh, move!” You snap in irritation before deciding to jump up and run across a green convertible, Bucky almost smiling as he races on the blacktop next to you, continuing onward as you land and race for safety or cover or anywhere away from this mess.

“Left!” Shouts Bucky as you both reach the area where the two huge lanes split from right to left, noticing the sirens coming down from the right lane, you don’t think twice as he practically pulls you in the opposite direction. Left lane it is.

This time traffic races towards you which makes maneuvering in this fucking tunnel even that much more difficult. Your boots clash against the hard ground as Bucky suddenly eyes up an approaching motorcycle, he is not.

As the motorbike comes into about five feet of him, Bucky grabs onto the handles, pushing the guy off while he does an impressive one-eighty before throwing a leg over to straddle the bike as he now points it in the direction of the traffic flow. Not wasting a precious second longer, do you swiftly jump on, throwing your arms around his strong waist for some bit of safety.

The bike instantly growls and groans in protest as Bucky focuses on getting the two of you the fuck out of there; cars fly by in a blur as the wind aggressively whips back your hair, only causing you to hold on tighter as Bucky races down the underpass’s road. Sirens and police speeding not far behind. The constant sound of their sirens just about driving you insane.

Without so much as a warning, your peaceful ride is rudely interrupted when the panther jumps off a car and makes a beeline for your body. Bucky’s flesh hand is around the panthers throat in a second as you lower yourself out of the way. In reply, the panther suddenly twists his body and runs a couple feet on the side of the tunnels wall and low cut ceiling before Bucky tries to throw him down by his throat.

Unfortunately this causes the motorcycle to shift left; dangerously close to the racing ground, he lets go of the panther and switches hands on the handles so he can avoid losing control completely. Metal fingers scrape across the cement creating glowing sparks of angry fiery flickers as the panther holds onto your jacket and the back of the motorcycle for dear life.

Not appreciating this in the slightest, you instinctively begin unsheathing your right claws that are positioned across your lap; you bend low, face pressed against Bucky before twisting the best you can and swiping the panther off of you and onto the harsh ground below. You don’t care to look back as Bucky pushes his metal hand off the ground, finally at last stabilizing the motorbike. Hitting the gas harder, it flies down the road as you swiftly retract your claws back into your knuckles.

“Y/N are you okay!” Shouts Bucky as you tighten your hold from behind, face pressed against his back as you listen to the sirens hastily approaching in the distance.

Gifting him a squeeze of reassurance, you give him a light kiss though he doesn’t feel it, “I could honestly be better!”

Bucky shows the ghost of a smile as he whirs the bike into submission, soon more wind swirls past your face as he pulls something out of his pocket and throw it against the roof of the tunnel where it sticks, blinking red.

Boom! Crash! Down goes a multitude of cement ceiling and destructively onto the freeway, effectively creating a blocker against the panther, Steve, and the Romanian police.

Smiling into his back, you mentally praise him for keeping some of the Hydra weaponry at hand. Until you’re roughly pulled from the bike by the fucking panther himself. Who even is this guy?

And how did he....

Yelping in surprise, you grasp onto Bucky’s backpack for all it’s worth, successfully managing to drag him down with you. The grey tiled street of the tunnel hits against your body harder then you’d like, but nonetheless you take the beating like a champ as you tumble harshly against the ground.

You and the ground are really getting to know each other today.

The panther doing the same from behind you while Bucky rolls awkwardly across the floor like an angry stiff log of dark flowing hair and concealed muscle. While trying to stop yourself from clashing around any further, you quickly regain your bearings in time to block Bucky from getting his throat cut out by the panther who’s on him in an instant.

With your claws bared and shimmering in the light of the protruding sun from the tunnels giant observatory opening, you’re quickly stopped by Steve as he races past you and tackles the panther to the ground by his waist.

Your little violet adventure coming to a messy end, when the panther stands defiantly a couple feet away from the three of you who by now have risen to your feet. Police lights flash from behind him as more surround the four of you instantaneously from on all sides, well shit, this doesn’t look good.

Your frantic eyes shift all around you as your world comes to a crashing halt, a helicopter flies over head, and in this moment you want nothing more then to slash your way out of this one. But you’re trapped.

You stand to Bucky’s immediate right as Steve stands to his left, hands out protectively as you glare at the officers in front of you, neither you nor Bucky speaking a word as you take in heavy breaths from your hefty sprinting session. Suddenly the notorious War Machine lands with a dramatically heavy thud onto the road in front of you, shoulder gun and hand blasters raised as he looks between the three of you.

Well at least it’s not actually Ironman. Right?

“Stand down, now.” Commands War Machine as you throw him a resistant look of pure daggers, hatred and fury flashing across your face as you clench your fists.

Obeying the authoritative command, Steve puts his shield away, latching it to his back as you begrudgingly retract your silver tinted claws back into your forearms with the usual shling sounding as you do so.

“Congratulations, Cap.” Verbally applauds War Machine, voice clearly sarcastic, “You’re a criminal.”

Moments later the Romanian police fully surround you all, guns at the ready; you’re harshly pushed to the ground by angry gloved hands that take captive of your arms and wrists as they pin your stomach to the earth.

“ot"yebis', tupyye pizdy!” You mumble angrily in Russian as the Romanian special task officers hold you like a wounded beast, your actual words translating to “fuck off, you stupid cunts” though they’re none the wiser to your heated threats.

Your chin scrapes against the cement tiles as your hands are pressed against your back, tied instantly as you strain your head to look up. The panther retracts his catlike claws before unclasping his helmet to reveal the troubled face of a dark skinned man; brows furrowing in confusion you suddenly realize who he is when War Machine says, “Your Highness.”

Grimacing in agitation, you can’t help but let out a string of curses aimed crudely at the Wakandian prince and many of the officers in question, half of your verbal abuse a mix of both English and your mother tongue. Soon an officer lightly kicks your side as you send him a deadly glare that causes him to take a cautious step back.

Though to relieve himself of his high authority once more, he gathers some of his men's attention by pointing down at you, “Muzzle this one.” He commands diligently as you squirm in protest, your face a mask of pure rage while Bucky keeps a steady frustrated gaze with the ground. His heart breaking for how they’re treating the two of you, but most importantly how they’re dealing with you.

If not for the current situation, you could have actually laughed; well now, aren’t you quite royally fucked.

Tagged: @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @diegos-butt

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #tfatws x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month!

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind.

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way.

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body.

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife.

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

The nightmare won’t let him.

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in.

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt.

He knows those hands.

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks.

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling.

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects.

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.”

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?”

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?”

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.”

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.”

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake.

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all.

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing.

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.”

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head.

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off.

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.”

Oh.

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.”

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.”

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle.

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.”

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.”

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all.

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice.

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones.

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair.

“We can’t save everyone, Mac."

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it.

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there.

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack.

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.”

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says.

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture.

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.”

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice.

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.”

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body.

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically.

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated.

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated.

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety.

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed.

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley.

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task.

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance.

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge.

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way.

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real.

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do.

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound.

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.”

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door.

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second.

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.”

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin.

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.”

He swallows. “Tailed?”

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.”

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?”

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.”

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way.

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up.

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it.

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again.

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him?

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened.

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens.

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.”

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?”

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.”

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.”

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.”

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.”

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down.

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him.

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.”

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.”

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macriley #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis

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mermdom · 4 years

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“Mmm yes... open wide for daddy. You like daddy’s cigar don’t you boy? Yeah let daddy give you another smoky kiss...”

Jesus, only a few minutes ago that guy was complaining about smelling the smoke and now he was already one of them! The shorter one too, he still looked normal when you last turned around. He was just standing next to him in the crowd, then a cigar appeared in the older guy’s mouth out of nowhere, he started moaning and growing hair everywhere. He didn’t have anywhere to escape, he pulled him up to his face and started feeding him smoke. Only a couple breaths was enough for him to stop resisting and be moaning and changing too.

You looked back at your friend Eric, he saw it too. You two had to get out of here quick. Whatever this thing was, it was already starting to catch up. This was just a regular street fair when you’ve arrived, you were the one who convinced Eric to tag along and he was the one who first remarked on all the cigar smoking, bare chested, hairy men everywhere. You didn’t pay them much mind, but thank god Eric did. He pulled you away at the last second when one of them tried to grab you from behind. Instead he grabbed a guy standing right next to you. He started kissing him and forcing him to smoke his cigar, and soon enough the guy was growing a beard and kissing him back.

You two immediately knew that something was wrong and it didn’t take long for other people to notice it too. The number of cigar smoking men was growing, they started fucking each other in front of everyone, pulling in those standing by in shock and making them join the orgy. Once everyone realized that this thing was infectious, they’ve all started to panic, you’ve all started to run. You two ended up in this alley, that was quickly crammed so full of people that any movement, in either direction came to a complete stop. But you’ve refused to stay in place and wait until everyone around you was smoking cigars and fucking each other, yourselves included.

You kept on pushing forward, squeezing through every gap in the crowd you could find, hoping that eventually you will make it out into the open. You thought that Eric was right behind you, but you were wrong. Suddenly you’ve heard him shouting for you to wait, he was already far behind, you’ve tried to stop or turn around but the crowd was pushing both of you in opposite directions. There was nothing you could do before his voice was drowned out by the moans coming from everywhere around you. You continued trying to call out to him, but after minutes without answer, you knew that you had to press on.

There were infected ahead of you as well, some weren’t fully gone yet. You’ve heard the people who got stuck next to them in the crowd, begging them to keep on fighting. You’ve also heard what happened when they failed and gave in. They were the ones moaning the loudest, apologizing to everyone, saying that they are too horny, that this feels too good and they can’t hold it off any longer. Even if they’ve tossed away their cigars, they would somehow appear back in their mouths, they would be forced to smoke them. Each inhale changing them more, beards growing on their faces, their bodies packing on huge muscles and covering with hair, their clothes disappearing or turning into leather gear. But the thing that frightened you the most was what became of them once they’ve stopped resisting. You could tell that they still remembered who they were before, that they recognized the people they used to know, and yet the only two things they now cared about were fucking and spreading this to others, be it complete strangers, or their best friends.

You got a taste of how it was like yourself. A tiny bit of smoke had drifted into your nose, it was so faint that you couldn’t even see it with a naked eye, but you felt it right away. When your cock instantly grew hard and your head became hazy with kinkiest fantasies full of horny smoke sex and corruption. In your head, you were already one of them. You were huge and furry all over. Your strong, beefy chest was full of tattoos and your cock was like a third leg, jutting upright at full mast. You did not worry about a single thing anymore, with that cigar in your mouth, you were now in charge. You could fuck anyone you wanted, and you wanted to fuck everyone in sight, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you were helping them, helping them feel like you.

You have no idea how you’ve manged to force yourself to keep on holding your breath until it passed instead of shoving everyone aside until you found one of those cigars and could take a lungful after lungful of smoke until you felt like this forever. Somehow you’ve endured it and nearly made it out. The crowd was becoming more sparse and you could walk faster and more freely now. It seemed like you might actually get out of this! You felt so relieved, but there was also something holding you back... Eric. He might have still been somewhere out there, you weren’t sure if you could leave without him. If not for him, you would have probably been one of them by now. You looked around, hoping that you might see his face somewhere in the crowd, even tried shouting his name, but without any luck. You were starting to lose hope when suddenly you felt someone tapping you on your shoulder.

“There you are fucker! Been looking for you everywhere!”

You couldn’t believe this! It was Eric’s voice! You quickly turned around but instead of your friend, you found a bearded leatherman standing right behind you. He was looking at you, stroking his PA’d dick and smoking his huge cigar with a horny grin on his face.

“Eric?! Oh no...”

“That’s right fucker, they got me and I fucking loved every minute of it! Time for you to join us too.”

You were too shocked and freaked out to react in time when he pulled out the cigar from between his teeth and blew more smoke than you’ve ever seen in your life directly in your face. You turned around and started running but it was already in your throat, in your lungs, in your nose. They were all burning and soon the rest of your body was burning too. Your muscles were quickly growing, your arms getting wider. You did not question how come you could now see those beefy pecs and this strong musclegut as they increased in size as well. You were only trying to focus on something other than how hot this dense fur on your chest and the manly tattoos made you look. Then when your pants turned into leather chaps on trying to keep your hands away from this massive cock swaying between your legs.

You continued to run as fast as you could but there seemed to be no getting away from that smoke, it followed you everywhere you went. Then you realized why that was... now you also had a cigar in your mouth yourself. The thought of getting rid of it was gone as soon as it crossed your mind. Why would you do that? It tasted so good and you loved how horny it made you feel and each next inhale of the smoke was making this even better. You no longer remembered why you were trying to fight this. You were too horny to think about it, to think about anything other than your cock and how good it felt to stroke it while smoking this cigar. You pushed anything that was still holding you back aside and took another, even deeper breath of nothing but cigar smoke.

Fuck, fuck yes! This felt so fucking good! There was no turning back anymore. This is who you were now! You moaned, your cock shooting cum everywhere. You looked around, many were running away, some were still watching. It was time to show them what they were missing out on, and then to find Eric and thank him for doing the same to you.

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gmariam19 · 3 years

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Hello! I hit one of those follower milestones that we all like to grin about - thank you! I decided to share something to go with the last moodboard I posted, a story I started ages ago but that stalled out at chapter five. The opening is below, and I'm hoping I can get it going again and post it sometime this fall. I'm sure a few details will change, and I do hope to finish some shorter stories before then. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy it - thanks for reading! :)

One

Poe already misses the ranch.

It’s been months since he's been home, seen his dad, even had a day off. Spending five days on Yavin 4 is exactly what he needed. He feels relaxed and recharged, ready to resume the job of co-General. He's fairly sure he's gained weight from all the eating and drinking they did, but that was what home was for him: koyo fruit and dark caf, roasted runyip steaks with kibla greens and sweetsand cookies for dessert. He hasn't eaten so well for months, maybe years.

Finn looks fairly content as well. Poe had been nervous about the trip, but it was past time to introduce Finn to Kes Dameron. Poe couldn't remember the last time he'd brought someone home, and he'd been a wreck until the moment his father had stepped forward, raised an eyebrow at Finn's outstretched hand, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kes's eyes had been bright, and Poe had almost choked up; Finn had been stunned at the warm welcome.

Everything had been perfect after that. In fact, maybe a little too good as Poe had been ganged up on more than once by Finn and his father. But to watch them together, talking, laughing, even cooking (though Finn was a disaster of a cook, so he usually ended up doing the washing) was a joy. It made Poe want a life like that more than anything—a quiet life with someone he loved, near friends and family. It was what peace looked like.

Of course, he would probably be bored after a month, but he could still think about it, couldn't he?

For now, there is still work to do, and part of Poe's plan in flying out to see his dad had been to make a few stops on the way back. The first is Torque, a quick jump from Yavin 4. It isn't the nicest spaceport in the sector, but it's the capital and it’s busy, which means they can blend in and listen, get a feel for what’s going on outside their immediate circle. Finn is meeting with one of Vi Moradi's people to exchange news, someone he'd met on Batuu who happened to be passing through the sector, while Poe is meeting with one of Grakkus the Hutt's pilots for a brief, off-the-record meeting on conditions in Hutt space.

Poe walks to a cantina not far from the landing pads on his own, his senses on high alert. He's in a dingy spaceport in the Outer Rim, a general of the Resistance who still has a large bounty on his head. Armed and aware, he notices immediately when he turns that the street he's on—more of an alley, really—is unusually quiet and empty. Perfect setup for an ambush.

He comms Finn. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he says as quietly as he can. "Good chance someone knows we’re here. Stay alert." Finn confirms the message. Poe unhooks his blaster, speeding up his pace. As he reaches the end of the alley, he senses a presence behind him, and feels a blaster in his back.

"Don't move," says a low voice, a familiar voice.

"Finn?" asks Poe. "What're you—"

The blaster pokes him hard in the ribs, so definitely not Finn (and they don't really play like that in public, anyway.) Poe glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned man, a bounty hunter by the looks of him, though he is close in size to Finn and certainly sounds similar.

"Hands up, blaster to me, then turn around slowly."

Poe raises both hands, discreetly tapping his comm twice as he does, and the hunter takes his blaster. Poe turns and finds himself facing his captor. He's dressed in a black flight suit, with a leather vest and boots lined in red, and he’s armed to the teeth. He's only an inch or two taller than Poe but almost two decades older, short hair and beard shot with grey and a prominent scar running from his temple to his jaw on his right side. He seems familiar, though Poe is almost certain they’ve never met before. Strangely enough, what stands out most are the man’s eyes: tired brown eyes that do not look like the cold, hard eyes of most bounty hunters Poe has met.

The man looks at him with a frown.

"What, not what you expected?" Poe asks. "I get that a lot. It's the hair."

The bounty hunter shakes his head as he pats Poe down, taking his second blaster and a knife. "It's the hair that makes you so recognizable, General," the man says. His voice really does sound like Finn, and his eyes…Poe shakes off the idea. "Maybe if you cut it, half a dozen hunters would stop looking for you."

"Only half a dozen?" Poe asks. "How disappointing. I remember when I was on top of everyone's list."

"Sorry, General," the man says, and there is a wry smile with the strangely apologetic words. "Peace is not as good for business."

"Maybe you need a new business," Poe suggests. He has a funny feeling about this grizzled bounty hunter, as if the man before him is nothing like the image he projects. He doesn't want to hurt this man but talk him out of whatever he’s got planned. Or at least talk long enough for Finn to get there.

"You're actually my last job," the man says, almost conversationally. "There's still people willing to pay good money for your head." He takes out a pair of binders and motions at Poe to lower his wrists. Poe leaves his hands up.

"What if I paid you more?" he asks, lowering his voice and moving closer. "And then we forget this ever happened?" He smiles, turning on the charm, but the man snorts at him, so much like Finn that it’s eerie.

"Lower your arms, General. You can't afford me."

Poe shrugs. "It was worth a try." He slowly lowers his wrists, taking another step closer. Just as the hunter is about to clamp them, he headbutts the older man, sliding a pocket blaster into his palm as he steps back and hits the man with a glancing blow in the arm. The hunter recovers quickly, though, and blasts him in the chest, sending Poe flying backward and into the side of the nearest building. He rolls over and groans, thankful it wasn't set to full stun—or kill. This hunter is even more unusual than Poe thought. The man stands over him and is about to speak when Poe hears the click of a blaster behind them.

"Drop it," says Finn. The hunter turns and shoots so fast Poe barely has a chance to shout a warning. But Finn has good instincts too: he ducks and pulls the blaster from the hunter's hands with his newest Force skill. The hunter looks at his gloved hand in surprise before he tries again with a second weapon, and Finn again slams it aside with the Force.

"I could do this all day," Finn says.

The hunter raises an eyebrow. "Then let’s forget the weapons." He charges Finn with raises fists and they start fighting hand to hand.

Poe drags himself to his hands and knees and slowly stands against the wall, hugging his right side with one hand and wiping blood from a cut on his temple with the other. He hit the building hard and will probably have some colorful bruises soon. He watches the fight for a moment as he recovers from the stun bolt: two highly skilled men, one much older than the other, yet still strong. Poe has the odd thought that it's a bit like watching Finn fight himself in thirty years.

It does not take long, however, for Finn to gain the upper hand and pin the man down, call a blaster to his hand, and press it to the man's neck.

"Yield!" he demands. The hunter got in a good hit and Finn's lip is bleeding, and he's clearly pissed off about it.

"Get off me!" the hunter snarls. "I yield."

"Finn," Poe calls, and tosses him the fallen binders. Finn clamps them behind the man's back and hauls the hunter to his feet.

"Who are you?" Finn demands, but the man looks away. Poe finally figures it out—the clothing, the scar, the stories, and he walks over, moving slowly and still holding his side.

"You're Tenga Idoma, aren't you?" he asks. "I've heard of you, didn't think you worked this side of the galaxy."

"A hunter goes where the bounty goes." The bounty hunter is standing tall and proud, a bruise forming on his left jaw, the wound on his arm small but red and raw.

"I'm the bounty," Poe stage-whispers to Finn, who rolls his eyes.

"Oh, you are both wanted men," Idoma says, laughing bitterly. "I figured I couldn't take you together, so I flipped a chip on who to follow first. I didn't think I'd get my ass handed to me by a former trooper if I followed the pilot."

Poe takes a step forward—always his instinctive response when someone refers to Finn as a Stormtrooper—but Finn stops him with a hand on Poe's arm. He's looking at the man curiously.

"Are you a former trooper, too?" Finn asks.

"I neverserved the First Order." The man spits in the street, so vehemently angry it earns a look of surprise from Finn. "They took everything from me."

"Then why are you tracking us down?" Poe asks. "We're fighting to make sure they don't ever do it again, you know."

The man shakes his head. "I told you, this is my last job. Then I'm done."

Finn looks to Poe with a shrug. "What should we do with him?" he asks.

Poe looks at the man, then back at Finn. The resemblance is almost uncanny. Something—his own instincts, or maybe the Force—prompts him to say, "Bring him with us." He turns to the bounty hunter. "You're under arrest."

"You can't arrest me!" Idoma exclaims, and struggles in his binders, grimacing with pain, but Finn holds tight.

"I'm a general, sure I can," says Poe. Which is not strictly true, but he needs more time with this man.

"What are we going to do with him?" Finn asks. "Why don't we turn him in to the authorities here?"

Poe thinks about what to say, how to say it. "I have some more questions for him," he says. "Come on, let's head back to the Falcon."

Finn looks both skeptical and curious as he comms Vi Moradi's man and explains the situation. Poe calls the pilot he was supposed to meet. The hunter moves reluctantly but does not put up a fight. It feels strange to be taking him in so easily, and Poe can’t help but wonder why—or if something is about to go massively wrong. He tries not to think about who Tenga Idoma might really be, but he can’t help but wonder about that as well.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #Finn (Star Wars)#Poe Dameron #fanfiction #WIP #Tenga Idoma

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Pushed Around

Prompt: i looooooove you protective knights Merlin drabbles from over quarantine, the frantic energy of these large children fretting over Merlin is hilarious and so precious (': would you ever write your take on the classic "a visiting knight/noble is a dickwad to Merlin but he doesn't tell anyone bc of either worries of diplomacy or something else and then when Arthur and the knights do find out they have to have a serious chat w Merlin about his priorities and self-worth?" bc,,, it would be awesome

Thanks for the req! I do love this trope...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, but can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Warnings: uhhh nobles can be dicks

Word Count: 3372

The problem with Merlin is that he doesn’t say nearly enough for all the talking he does. Honestly, the man can ramble on for hours and hours without being interrupted and never say one word about himself. He’s spoken about how Arthur sits wrong for longer than a council meeting for goodness’ sake. And yet in all that time, he’s never said a single thing about himself.

It would be impressive if it didn’t get them into nearly so many stressful situations that could’ve been avoided had he asked for help.

In fairness to Merlin, servants asking for help from anyone other than fellow servants isn’t exactly normal. In unfairness to Merlin, when has ‘normal’ ever been very high on his list of things to strive for?

They’ve all gotten fairly used to it. Merlin will be doing something and one of them will notice that perhaps there’s a…better way to do that. Or perhaps he’s doing it with a little less skill or proficiency than he normally does and gods, Merlin, how long have you been hurt for? Merlin will shrug and smile sheepishly at them and say that it’s nothing to worry about. Only Gaius seems to be immune to that, raising the Eyebrow of Disappointment and Merlin will bow his head and let him tend to whatever he’s done to himself this time. The problem is Merlin seems to know this and does all he can to avoid doing these things in front of Gaius. Which leaves the rest of them to struggle frantically to keep track of Merlin while he’s frantically keeping track of them.

But they’ve gotten used to it.

Arthur is allowed to be an absolute prat—Merlin’s words, not his—in the mornings, insisting Merlin do all sorts of ridiculously elaborate chores to assess whether he’s hurt himself, whether something’s wrong, or whether he’s done something to upset Merlin more than tossing the occasional boot at him. If Merlin doesn’t snipe back or calls him ‘sire’ unironically, something is definitely wrong and everything is on pause until they fix it. No exceptions.

Leon, as the closest thing to Arthur’s right hand aside from Merlin, takes every opportunity to stand next to him, regardless of how proper it is. Leon may not be immune to Merlin’s impish little excuses, but Merlin is not immune to the protective-older-sibling looks Leon gives him or the gentle way Leon arranges his cape so that Merlin looks even more inconspicuous behind the copious amounts of red fabric. Leon never says a word, and Merlin would never admit it, but there are times when, if you looked at them from behind, you would see Merlin reach out to clutch Leon’s cape and Leon reach to hold his hand.

Percival is not a small man. Anyone standing opposite him better think very carefully about whatever they’re about to fight over. Odds are it won’t be worth it. Often all he has to do is stand up and they’re babbling apologies or excuses. Merlin, on the other hand, is a slight man who looks as if he’s always about two seconds from tripping over his own feet. Percival makes sure to stand in front of him.

Elyan has a way with words. Not that he’s the most loquacious speaker, nor the most forceful, but he’s got a voice that makes people listen. It’s not Arthur’s authority, nor it is Uther’s unmistakable iron, but it is a quiet power. Oftentimes, people don’t seem to respect Merlin. Some go so far as to refuse to remember his name. Elyan’s never had a problem making them see reason.

Gwaine is not known for being discreet, nor is he especially reserved in demonstrating that he’s here for Merlin, not for Camelot, not for Arthur, but for Merlin. Sometimes Merlin just needs a little reminder that he’s worth fighting for, and not just because he’s fighting for something bigger than himself.

Lancelot is the only one that can actually get Merlin to talk, reliably. The man can see through Merlin’s nonsense in a way that rivals Gaius. Unlike Gaius, Merlin won’t fight him on it. It’s difficult to get Lancelot to tell the rest of them, despite what he’ll have you believe. But if Merlin looks a little happier afterward, then it’s all fine.

So yeah, they’ve gotten used to it. What they haven’t gotten used to are the people that go out of their way to make life for Merlin harder.

“There’s another tournament?” Merlin huffs as he throws the blanket over Arthur’s bed. “Didn’t you just have one?”

“That was a joust. This is a melee.”

“You’re all throwing yourselves at each other with various pieces of metal,” Merlin remarks dryly, “what’s the difference?”

Arthur rolls his eyes as he gets up, glancing out the window to see the approaching knights. There aren’t nearly as many as the last tournament, thank goodness, but that does mean that this one won’t be nearly as easily decided.

“As long as I’m not cleaning up after all of you this time…”

Arthur frowns, looking back at Merlin straightening the bed covers. “What do you mean?”

“Last time. I was working non-stop. Had another knight almost as demanding as you are.”

“I’m allowed to be demanding,” Arthur says, “you’re my servant.”

“Mhmm, sure.”

“No one else is.”

“You tell them that, sire.”

“I will. Who was it?”

Merlin shrugs. “Don’t really remember his name.”

Arthur sighs, walking forward and resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Yes, you do. That’s what you say when you don’t want to tell me someone’s name.”

“You don’t know that.”

��“I do,” Arthur says softly, turning Merlin to face him, “so you can tell me.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“Merlin,” Arthur huffs, “if something is wrong, you know you can tell me.”

“But nothing’s wrong!” Arthur just gives him a look until he sighs, picking up the laundry basket. “Alright, fine, his name was Tobias, are you happy now?”

“Yes, I am, thank you.” Arthur gives his shoulder another pat before moving away. “The next time he’s here, I’ll make sure you’re nowhere near him.”

As it turns out, that doesn’t go as planned. Because Sir Tobias didn’t just sign up for the joust, he’s here for the melee too.

“Arthur Pendragon,” the man roars, clapping Arthur firmly on the shoulder, “thought you’d seen the last of me, eh?”

“Thought that bruised backside you got from falling off your horse would’ve kept you away.”

Tobias throws his head back and laughs. “You’ve got spirit about you, lad. It’ll serve you well if you can hold your nerve.”

“My nerve has never failed me before,” Arthur replies cooly, gesturing up the stairs, “though I’m sure you know that by now.”

“We’ll see come the melee.”

Merlin is out of sight, helping the stablehands tend to the horses. As Arthur walks up the stairs, he sees Tobias glance around and huff softly to himself.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, no,” Tobias says quickly as they enter the hall, “just glad to see you’ve not assigned me the same servant this time.”

Arthur straightens. “Excuse me?”

“The gangly boy that tended to my chambers last time,” Tobias says, waving his hand, “right awful he was. Glad you’ve fired him.”

“I see…”

Arthur does not, in fact, see, but he makes a point to tell the knights not to let Tobias near Merlin.

As it turns out, they don’t have much of a choice. Arthur needs Merlin to help him get ready, and Tobias is of high enough rank to be near the prince as he does so. Luckily for Merlin, he just has to stay inside the tent.

Unluckily for Merlin…

“Arthur,” Gwaine calls from outside, “they need you to come look at the shields.”

Arthur gives Merlin’s arm a squeeze and steps away, ducking out of the tent. Gwaine leads him over to a table laden with shields, each with a different insignia painted on it. The Pendragon crest gleams in the light, next to the sigils from each of the other knights fighting. None of them has so much as a scratch.

“Very good, sire,” the attendant says, sweeping them along to finish the final preparations. Arthur follows Gwaine up the hill to where the others are standing, Leon turning and nodding solemnly ate his approach.

“Are all of you competing, then?” Arthur leans against the wall.

Leon shakes his head. “Lancelot and I will be sitting this one out.”

“Not growing weary are you, old friend?”

“Weary of people attempting to kill you while I’m already engaged in combat,” Leon replies wryly, “and weary of Merlin being the only one able to do anything about it.”

“They won’t listen to him when he calls for a stop to the tourney,” Lancelot adds.

“And so you can keep anyone away from him,” Gwaine says firmly.

“Precisely.”

They head back down the hill, just in time to see a flutter of movement from Arthur’s tent. Gwaine frowns, rushing forward and throwing it open.

“Merlin?”

“I’m here,” Merlin says, getting to his feet, “just fell.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and reaches down to help him up. “At some point, Merlin, I do have to wonder.”

“It’s fine, I just picked up something without realizing it was attached to something else.”

“I see.”

The rest of the knights glance at each other over Arthur’s shoulder and Elyan stalks off toward a neighboring tent. Leon bows deeply and tells Merlin that he and Lancelot will wait for the others to finish their training before coming to collect him.

“There’s still a few more days to go,” Merlin says softly, “I don’t see why you all had to come here so early.”

“It’s to make it fair, give the knights the chance to get used to fighting in the same place.”

Merlin grumbles to himself as he goes about finishing up. Arthur catches him gently by the elbow as he turns to leave.

“Are you alright? Really?”

“Arthur, I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Arthur sighs. “I would really like for one of these to go off normally for once.”

Arthur does not, in fact, get what he wants.

Not that anyone is particularly surprised that there’s a knight who managed to sneak a poisoned weapon into the training grounds, but someone clips Arthur through his armor and he winces, immediately aware that something’s wrong. Merlin spots it a mile away, because of course he does. The knight is quickly escorted away and Arthur shakes his head, calling for a search of all the knights’ belongings and weapons.

“You’d think we’d get better about this,” Lancelot mutters as he and Merlin approach, Merlin rubbing his shoulder, “and that they’d stop trying.”

“At least we caught it before the actual melee.”

“Merlin, there you are,” Gwaine says, pulling Merlin to his side, “good. Now, you and I are going to have a talk.”

“About what?” Arthur looks around. “What’s going on?”

Lancelot just mouths that they’ll be back as Gwaine sweeps them both along the corridor. Arthur brushes it to the back of his mind. That’s not the first time they’ve done something like this.

It’s the night before the melee. Merlin is late. Arthur paces up and down the length of his quarters. The knights have all vanished hours ago. Merlin is late.

A knock.

“Enter.”

Leon sweeps inside, a stony look on his face. He glances around the quarters and bites back a curse. “Merlin’s not here, is he?”

“No,” Arthur says, his blood beginning to run cold, “no, he isn’t. Where is he?”

“Gwaine and Lancelot are already looking,” Leon says, shutting the door, “but…sire, may I ask a question?”

“Always,” Arthur says immediately, “you don’t need to ask.”

“How long has Tobias been…allowed near Merlin?”

“He hasn’t,” Arthur growls, hustling down the corridor, “but what has he done?”

“He was more brazen during the joust.” Leon shoulders a door open. “But now—“

“Merlin!”

Arthur rushes forward as Merlin turns the corner. Startled, Merlin barely has time to turn all the way before Arthur’s wrapping him up in a protective arm and turning him back toward the safety of Arthur’s chambers.

“Where were you?”

“I was, um…”

Arthur bites back a curse and hurries faster, Leon hot on their heels. Along the way, they come across Elyan and Percival, coming up from the armory.

“Arthur, we need to—“ Elyan breaks off when he sees Merlin in Arthur’s arms. “Merlin?”

“My chambers,” Arthur growls, “now.”

“What about Gwaine and Lancelot?”

“They’ll find us.”

“Guys, whatever this is, it’s fine,” Merlin tries but Arthur simply opens the door to his quarters and sits Merlin down. “Really!”

“Merlin,” Leon says quietly, “where were you just now?”

Merlin glances at Arthur. Then back to Leon. “Helping Amelia.”

“And who were you helping Amelia help?”

Another glance at Arthur. Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Merlin,” he says slowly, “I need you to answer me honestly, please.”

Merlin nods, evidently a little taken aback at how soft Arthur’s voice is.

“Were you helping Amelia because she asked for your help, or were you helping her so Tobias would get angry with you instead of her?”

The silence that fills the room is more than enough of an answer.

“I’m going to kill him,” Gwaine announces, kicking open the door, “now where’s—there you are.”

“Gwaine, I—ah!”

“Don’t break him,” Lancelot chides gently as Gwaine sweeps Merlin into a hug, “he’s probably still hurt.”

“Hurt?” Arthur looks from Lancelot to Merlin. “Merlin—“

“It’s fine.”

“Can you allow us to be the judge of that,” Leon asks, settling a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder and moving him away, “please?”

“It’s just a few bruises, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

“Not exactly helping your case here,” Gwaine snarls, stalking toward Arthur.

“Merlin.”

“…why’re you guys so upset?”

Arthur winces. Merlin looks back and forth between them.

“No…really, I don’t—I don’t understand. You lot hit me.”

“Not like that!”

“It’s fine, I don’t—“

“This isn’t fine, Merlin, you’re being hurt.”

“So?”

The room falls silent. Leon draws back as if Merlin reached out to smack him across the face. Percival bows his head as Elyan bites back a curse. Lancelot stares at Merlin like he’s grown a second head. Gwaine looks at Arthur.

Arthur’s chest clenches so painfully he fears he’s going to have to send for Gaius. Merlin…Merlin doesn’t believe that he’s worth worrying about when he’s hurt? Merlin doesn’t care that he’s getting hurt? Merlin is letting someone hurt him?

“Merlin…”

“What?” He looks around at all of them in confusion. “What it is? Why do you all look so…so…”

“Upset?” Leon tilts his head. “Because you just told us you don’t think you’re important.”

“But…this isn’t that big of a deal. It happens all the time. Why is this time any different.”

“How often,” Lancelot says, “would you say this happens then?”

“Every time there’s a tournament.”

“Every tournament,” Leon repeats quietly, “there is a knight that does this?”

“Sometimes more than one.”

“And you…let them?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

No.

No, no, no, this isn’t right.

This isn’t right.

Merlin is the man who waltzed right up to Arthur on his first day in Camelot and told him to stop being a prat.

Merlin is the man who spat in Uther’s face as often as he could.

Merlin is the man who demanded that everyone is treated as a person, be they servant or noble or royal.

This is wrong.

“Merlin,” Arthur manages, “Merlin, of course you have a choice.”

“If I don’t do it, they’ll hurt someone else. And I’m used to it.”

“But you never should’ve gotten used to it,” Arthur cries, rushing forward and grabbing Merlin’s shoulders, “damnit, Merlin, why don’t you protect yourself?”

“I’m fine, Arthur.”

“You’re letting yourself get pushed around and beaten by someone, you’re not fine.”

“I have to put up with you, don’t I?”

Arthur burns.

Something in his chest squeezes so tight it breaks. He takes his hands off of Merlin like he’s been stung, backing up until he hits the poster of his bed. His mouth is open in shock and he can scarcely draw breath.

Merlin thinks…Merlin…did he do this to Merlin?

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Merlin is saying far, far away, “it’s not like I’m not…why’re you all looking at me like that?”

No, no, Merlin is Arthur’s Merlin, he—he’d never hurt his Merlin, he’d never—no, he hasn’t—but—Merlin—

“Arthur, are you—are you crying?”

This is Arthur’s fault. This is Arthur’s fault, isn’t it, he’s messed this up, he’s messed Merlin up, he’s ruined it—he’s ruined everything.

“Sire,” comes Leon’s—is that Leon’s?—voice from somewhere to his left, “you have to breathe, come on…”

Arthur gasps, the air burning the inside of his throat. He does it again, frantically blinking to clear his eyes. Tears stream down his cheeks—so he did start crying—as the image of Lancelot and Gwaine talking to Merlin swims into view in front of him. Merlin’s brow is furrowed and he keeps shooting concerned looks Arthur’s way.

“I never meant—“ Arthur swallows— “I never meant to hurt him. I didn’t—I never meant any of them, I—“

“Shh, sire,” Leon murmurs, “we know. Nothing is simple right now.”

“But that’s not what Arthur does,” Merlin protests, “he—is that why you guys are so worried?”

Merlin turns and flies at Arthur, hands immediately coming up to cup his cheeks and numb away his tears, muttering all the while.

“That’s not what I meant, Arthur,” he babbles, “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—you’re not like them, I just—that’s what I’m used to, I didn’t know that there was a difference—“

“I never meant to hurt you, Merlin,” Arthur says, gripping Merlin’s arms tightly, “I just—you must believe me—“

“I do, I do—“ now Merlin’s crying too— “I just—“

“Alright, you two,” Leon hushes, gently laying a hand on both of their shoulders, “let’s have you two sit before you fall over.”

The knight guides them both to the bed, sitting them on the edge. They’re no help; they’re too busy crying and clinging onto each other.

“Now, why don’t you two have a chat, and we’ll be outside.” Leon ruffles their hair affectionately and sweeps the others out into the corridor despite Gwaine’s protests.

Arthur swallows. “I never meant to hurt you, Merlin,” he mumbles, “nor do I believe that you’re—a fool or an idiot or stupid or anything.”

He clutches Merlin tightly. “You’re important to me.”

Merlin nods. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you lot, it’s just…that was how the older boys in Ealdor treated me. I got used to it. And it always made sense.”

Arthur shakes his head furiously. “It doesn’t make sense, Merlin. They were hurting you. People are hurting you. That’s not alright. That’s awful. And I’m going to stop it.”

“You can’t just fight all the nobles who don’t like me.”

“Watch me.”

“Your father will—“

“To hell with that,” Arthur snarls, “they’re hurting you. And I won’t stand for it.”

Merlin sighs, slumping forward. Without a thought, Arthur catches him, pulling him closer and tucking his head over Merlin’s.

“…you really would fight them for me?”

“Yes, Merlin. I would. And I will.”

He feels Merlin grin against his shoulder. “You’re going to make Tobias never come back to Camelot, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #dragonbabbles #fic

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sassooda · 3 years

Text

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

“Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

“Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

“You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

“Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

“Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

“Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

“It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

“I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

“She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

“Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

“Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

“I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

“Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”. Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

“Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, ��Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

She says nothing.

The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

“If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

“I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

“You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

“You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.

Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

“And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr ❤️

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maeve-writes · 3 years

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Summer Camp

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNi

Warnings: PWP, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex, brutally murdered teens by an immortal serial killer at a summer camp (though that is just mentioned).

Summary: You and the boys investigate the slaughtering of counselors at a cursed summer camp.

a/n: This was written on a Friday the 13th and an excuse to write Sam smut.

It was a case straight out of a campy horror movie, five counselors were slaughtered as they got the camp ready for the summer. Normally it wouldn’t have been your kind of scene, but the cops wouldn’t talk about it and the only survivor was missing two limbs and held up in a psychiatric facility. The news said she claimed that whoever killed her friends was still out there and impossible to kill, even after they set him on fire and managed to stab him in the chest.

“Think it’s a Tulpa,” Sam asked as he lugged your bags towards a cabin.

“Could be,” you hummed. You honestly hating camping, the dirt, the bugs, the heat, but living the life as a hunter brought you out into the deep woods from time to time and you learned to deal with it. But at least here at camp there was indoor plumbing and beds. “Or it could be a serial killer bent on revenge against horny camp counselors.”

Sam grinned as you pulled the rickety door open and allowed him in first. The cabin was small, but had a tiny sitting room that lead to a bedroom holding an aging queen bed and bathroom that you barely fit in, so you weren’t sure how Sam was going to use it, but at least you had your privacy. Dean was rooming with, much to his delight, the rest of the actual counselors in hopes of a hookup before facing the big bad.

“My parents shipped me off to camp every summer,” you recalled idly, unpacking your clothes into the small wooden dresser. “I hated every minute of it.”

“Why? I would’ve loved to have gone to a regular camp,” Sam laughed from where he stretched out on the bed, the springs creaked with his breathing. “Probably would’ve been better than chasing werewolves all summer.”

“I built so many birdhouses out of popsicle sticks it’s not even funny.” You tucked away the last of Sam’s shirts and moved to crawl in the bed with him, the thin mattress gave easily to your weight and groaned in protest. He reached out for you as you moved closer, his hands found your hips as you straddled his. “And they forced me to go fishing,” you grimaced. “Had to hook poor little worms, it was so sad.”

“I promise you don’t have to do anything like that while you’re here. We signed you up as the swim instructor,” he informed with a glint in his eye.

“What? You said I was doing archery,” you gasped, slapping at his chest.

“And miss the chance of seeing you in a bathing suit all day? No way,” Sam grinned and blocked the rest of your playful hits.

You rolled your eyes and fought against him as he pulled you down for a kiss. “You’re a pervert, you know that?” You lost the battle and allowed him to press his mouth against yours. “And hopefully we aren’t all chopped up into tiny pieces and eaten before the camp opens,” you muttered against his puckered lips.

“You really know how to kill the mood, Y/N,” he groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

You laughed and winked, climbing off of him. “C’mon, let’s go find your brother.” You pulled him out of the bed and eventually the cabin, heading out to join the others already gathered around the evening campfire. Dean was chatting with a pretty blonde around your age, wide eyed and flushed as the other Winchester flirted shamelessly. “I see that you got straight to work,” you greeted them when you got close enough.

“This the Brittany,” Dean turned his attention to the both of you. “Her parents own the camp.”

She gave a little wave to the both of you. “They’ve been talking about buying it for a while now. They met here when they were younger, they were counselors here. Just celebrated their 25th anniversary, so they caved and guilted me into running it.”

“How sweet,” you cooed.

She nodded and smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Thanks for accepting the job, it was hell trying to get people to want to work here.”

You tilted your head, feigning ignorance, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head, “We’ve got a nasty mosquito problem. Everyone’s worried about bird flu or whatever.” She laughed loud and nervously and you played along. “Anyway, let’s get drunk!” With a clap of her hands, she was up and jogged over to the cooler the others had open and full of cheap beer.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Think you can get it out of her, Dean?” The eldest Winchester winked and joined in the merriment of bad music and alcohol, his arm already wrapped around Brittany. “Wanna look around?” You grinned up at your boyfriend and grabbed his hand, leading him back towards your cabin. “I thought you wanted to work?”

“Dean’s working,” you replied with a half shrug. “Besides, don’t you know the best way to get a crazy serial killer to come out of hiding is for two young, beautiful people to fuck like rabbits while their friends party outside?”

Sam laughed and scooped you up to carry you the rest of the way to the cabin, “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, “it’s in the rule book.”

“There’s a rule book, huh?” You pulled the door open once again and Sam bee-lined straight to the bed. He unceremoniously dropped you on the cheap, thin mattress and eagerly climbed on top and between your legs. “Does it say how we’re supposed to do it? Hard and fast? Nice and slow?”

You tilted your head in thought when he sat on his hunches, pulling off his thin white shirt that was already soaked through with sweat. “Hard and fast,” you decided. “And very loud.”

“Loud? I think we can manage that,” Sam chuckled and worked on his pants as you wiggled out of your own tank top and shorts, tossing them aside. Stripped down to your underwear, he was back on you, mouth attacking yours with his normal primal greed, teeth and tongue and growls. Your fingers twisted into his hair, your sweat slicked bodies clung together as he rolled his hips against yours.

The bed groaned beneath you as the two of you moved in tandem, drowning out your whimpers and Sam’s moans. Any other time, any other place, you would have complained and moved to the floor as you’ve done in past hotels, but somehow, being in a camp like this hearing the springs protest beneath you made it all the more dirty and got you a bit more hot and bothered.

“C’mon, Sam,” you whined, pulling away from his hungry lips, “fuck me.”

“I’m workin’ on it,” he grumbled, but sat back once more to pull off his boxers. Your panties were next, already soaked from your slick and sweat, peeled off with the hook of his thumbs. A devious smile split his face and he dropped so that his shoulders could spread your thighs.

“No, no,” you shook your head and tried to coax him up to you, “no foreplay, straight to the dicking!”

Sam shook his head right back at you and licked at his lips, his thumbs that removed your underwear now parted your folds and he stared hungrily at your core. “Didn’t get dessert when we stopped for food,” he reminded you.

“I’m not ice cream!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam sniggered and licked a long, flat strip from your fluttering hole to your clit and groaned at the bittersweet tang. A shiver shot through you and your legs clenched around him, a whining moan begged him for more. “Thought you said it’s gotta be loud? I could barely hear you.”

You slapped the top of his head and scowled down at his beautiful, smirking face. “That’s ‘cause you gotta fuck me.”

“I am,” Sam snorted. His eyes locked with yours as he licked another slow trail from hole to hole to your swelling bud. You struggled around him and groaned, your eyes threatened to flutter closed, but you fought against it to glare at him.

“It’s been five days since you’ve been inside me, Samuel,” you snapped. “Stop fucking around and dick me down, dammit.”

“You’re really bossy when you’re desperate,” he teased, but climbed up your body once more to give you a taste of yourself as he lined up. “I kinda like it.” You grinned up at him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders and when he pushed in one fluid motion to the hilt, your smile turning into a sinful O. “You said hard and fast.”

You nodded eagerly and he pulled back, leaving just the tip before slamming back home with the bed squeaking underneath you. “Sam,” you hissed, “just like that.” Your legs and arms wrapped around him as he started the quick, brutal pace of his hips. The thin metal frame of the bed rocked and swayed with his thrusts, your desperate moans only joining in the chorus of the whining objection of the mattress beneath you.

Sam’s lips found your skin once more, kissing and marking the slick flesh. “Louder,” he murmured against your jaw, pinching the skin off its bone with his teeth. “Want that killer to show up, don’t you,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You did as you were told, lewd sounds ripped from your throat as Sam changed his angle, searching for the right spot to get you really singing. You did your best to encourage him, sobbing out dirty words, telling him to fuck you harder, faster, and he did. His hips slammed repeatedly against your ass, the squeaks of the bed barely registering over the sound of skin against skin or your porn worthy moans.

And when he found your spot, you clawed at his back, latching onto him which signaled him to let loose. He fucked into you with wild abandon, his face buried into the side of yours, both of you losing your voices as Sam worked you closer to the edge. Neither of you registered the sound of your cabin door open or the sounds of the footsteps creeping closer.

You hit yours first, the blinding white of you orgasm burst through you and came out with a cry of Sam’s name. You clung to him desperately as you rode it out, Sam still pumping into you with a feral need until he spilled his own deep inside of you.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me,” Dean said from the doorway, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Are you fucking serious,” you yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling to across the room only to miss.

Dean watched the pillow fall to the floor and he snorted, “Nice throw. You might want to get your clothes on. We’re getting out of here.”

“What? Why,” Sam asked, reluctantly pulling out of you. Dean gagged playfully and turned away so you two could get decent.

“Because the whole thing is a hoax. The ‘survivor’,” he used air quotes, “we talked to? Brittany’s crazy sister. And Brittany? Just as crazy. The family made the whole thing up to get people to come to the camp. There’s no killer, there was no murders, just a scam to get publicity.”

You sighed heavily and climbed out of bed, gathering you clothes on the way to the shower. “We’ll pack up and meet you in twenty, I guess.”

“If you two wanna keep playing naughty counselors, I’m all for staying the night,” Dean chuckled. “Brittany might be crazy, but she’s got some nice ti-”

You made a loud yelp to get him to stop. “Get out, Dean. We’ll meet you at the car.” You disappeared into the bathroom with Sam on your heels. As you predicted, he was barely able to get around the small room and when you two climbed into the shower, he couldn’t turn on the water without elbowing you in the face.

“You look disappointed,” Sam noted, his fingers running through your dampening hair.

“I wanted to kill something,” you pouted.

Rolling his eyes, he reached for the shampoo and started to wash your hair. “I’m sure we’ll find something for you to murder soon. Close your eyes.”

You whined pathetically but did as you were told. “Next time we agree to go to summer camp, there better be an immortal serial killer on the loose or I’m gonna be pissed.”

#Sam Winchester x Reader #Sam Winchester x You #Sam Winchester x Y/N #Originally posted on @plaided-ani

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bnha-butterfly · 3 years

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Synopsis: Sakusa could never have imagined he would die like this, and he definitely didn’t know he would love like this either

Warnings: this story includes graphic depictions of drowning, major character death (technically but not really)

W.C: 1.9k+ words

A/N: based off of this post that I made a while back and the fact that I really want to play dungeons and dragons. Also I really wanted to write that drowning scene and I spent three days on it.

This was beta read by @ramelanin Who is easily one of my favorite writers on this platform. Ramen I love you. Mwah <3

Sakusa struggles as he is pulled from the berth of the ship for the first time in weeks. The air is so salty he can taste it. It’s smell is strong, it's almost nauseating but he’d prefer the salty smell and taste of ocean air then the stagnant air of the sleeping quarters he’s been kept in since he’s been forced on the ship. His hands are bound tightly in heavy metal cuffs and the skin around them is an angry red color. Rubbed raw from how long they’ve been on him.

It happens quickly. Almost so quick that he doesn't realize what’s happening until he is falling several feet from the deck of the ship to the churning waves of the ocean below. His skin is bathed in warmth as he plummets. His screams muffled by the tape placed over his mouth, and for a second he wonders if this is what Icurus felt like when he fell. The warmth of the sun was soon replaced with the icy cold feeling of the waves encompassing his body. He tries to stay calm. Knows that if he panics he will drown that much quicker. So he tries to hold his breath. Kicks his legs in some futile attempt to swim or at least break the surface of the water.

His mass of curls float upwards as he continues to sink. The sea water stings his eyes but there is a dull pain in his chest that is so much worse.

Don't panic. Don’t Panic.

He repeats the words like a mantra in his head. But how can he not panic when he knows this is how he will die. His chest burns a searing white as he tries to focus on anything else. He lists off anything he can think of in an attempt to avoid the way his chest feels. It’s just so hard to do that with the way his lungs cry out for oxygen. Aching for something he cannot have.

Don’t panic. Don’t Panic.

The sun's rays twinkle down at him, tinted blue from the water and filtered through the floating strands of his hair.

Don’t Panic. Don’t Panic.

At this point his body is holding his breath on autopilot. The flame in his chest grows hotter and hotter the longer he lasts and he just wishes he could pass out from the pain. His body gives up. The need for air is so fierce that his body just relaxes. His shoulders drop, there is no more flailing or kicking or anything.

Don’t Panic. Don't Panic. Don’t pani-

Panic.

Panic because there is salty ocean water that he can feel fill the back of his throat. This is how he will die. He tries to sputter out whatever is there but it is no use. Not with the tape over his mouth. His vision warps, and the edges of it turn dark. So with his face turned up to the sky, sunlight twinkling through the water down past strands of his hair to him in a taunt, casting shadows over his face his vision goes black.

Sakusa wonders if he is dead. He attempts to open his eyes but he can’t even tell if he succeeds. His surroundings are dark and wet and cold. His body still encompassed in water. He must be dead, and for a second he lets his mind wonder if his body will ever be recovered, or if he’ll just decompose slowly amongst the fish and crustaceans. His mind does not linger on those thoughts long as he feels a hand caress his cheek. It is warm and comforting and he cannot help but lean in to the touch.

“It is such a shame to see such precious cargo tossed overboard.”

A voice chimes. He can't quite pinpoint what direction the voice is coming from and to his surprise it is not muffled or gargled by the water. Water. He is still surrounded by water….isn’t he? He must be, right? He can fee-. He can't feel anything. Not the cool water or his fingers flexing as he attempts to move them. All he can feel is the hand on his face. Don’t Panic, he finds him telling himself once again.

The hand on his face retreats and he cannot help the way he instinctually moves his face to chase after the touch. Eliciting a chuckle from whoever or whatever it is that is talking to him. He can’t remember the last time he had felt a touch as soft and warm as that one.

“Wouldn’t you like to get even with the people who did this to you?”

“Get even? You mean revenge?” Sakusa says and realizes that the tape is no longer over his mouth. He hears his own voice and just like the voice of whomever it is speaking he doesn't sound muffled or gargled by the water.

“Yes revenge. I mean…could you really be satisfied dying here?”

Sakusa takes a second to think, and in that second he is reminded of the burning in his chest. The way his vision warped and dimmed. In that second he feels just how scared he was. The way realizing he was going to die made him feel helpless. He hated feeling helpless.

“I don’t want to die here” Is the only answer he can muster up, voice shaky.

“Then open your eyes and take my hand”

Sakusa opens his eyes and is surprised when they are not met with an assault of salty ocean water. Instead standing in front of him eye to eye is the most ethereal person he has ever laid eyes on. Illuminated by what little sunlight reaches them. Their hand stretched outwards between the two of them. He takes in his surroundings. Pitch black. It is almost like the two of them are standing within the void. The only light is the one that shines above them. He tilts his head up and the sun stares down at him, filtered through water. Twinkling down at him the same way that it did when he was drowning. He flexes his fingers and his toes. Stiff, but at least he can feel them again.

He returns his attention to the person in front of him. Although, he isn’t sure if he can really call them a person. They are beautiful, yes. But, the sides of their face is speckled in scales reminiscent of a serpent and if he looks closely their eyes glow dimly. They wink at him and he is suddenly made aware of how hard he must have been staring at them.

“What will happen if I take your hand?”

“You won’t die. You’ll get that revenge I can tell you crave.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I mean what does that matter? You said you don’t want to die here and I’m offering you a way not to.”

He stares down at the hand.

Just like that he’d be alive again. Just like that he could get even with the people who tried to kill him. So he takes a deep breath and shakes the outstretched hand. A bright yellow light emits from where both hands are latched together.

“You made the right decision” The voice says, and he doesn’t even have to see their face to know that there is a smile on it. He wonders what he just got himself into as the light from their joined hands dim.

“What now?” He asks as he gazes back up into dimly glowing eyes.

The person tilts their head, caresses his cheek. “Just one more thing and then you’ll never have to panic again.” The hand moves from his face to play with the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck.

He goes to ask another question. But, as this person’s palm comes in contact with the untouched skin at the base of his neck he is met with a searing white heat at the point of contact. His eyes widen and he goes to pull their hand away but the grip on the base of his neck persists.

“Don’t Panic.” They say. “Trust me.”

He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to not panic when the burning persists. How is he supposed to trust someone he has only just met?

“The sooner you relax the better it will feel.”

So he tries to relax. But, relaxing isn’t really possible when it feels like there is a piece of red hot metal being pressed into your skin. His vision warps and darkens and he passes out from the pain.

When Sakusa comes to, he finds himself coughing up water. A side effect of drowning he supposes. He checks his surroundings, and is surprised to see he is in a humble looking room. A bed, a nightstand with an oil lamp and pack of matches next to it, and a mirror across the room close to the door. Sakusa gets off of the bed, pushing the sheets aside and goes to look at himself in the mirror. He feels pins and needles in his feet but ignores the sensation.

He stands in front of the mirror. He looks okay for the most part. His hair is a mess and his eyes look as if he hasn't slept in a few days but that’s about it. He isn’t clad in the billowy white linen shirt and black trousers he died in. Instead, he stands in the mirror wearing a cream colored cotton shirt and brown trousers. His skin smells of salt and he could crave nothing more than a decent shower, or even a half-decent shower. He feels his stomach growl and sighs. Food. He’d need food first, then he could get a shower.

He takes a second to attempt to straighten out his appearance. He runs his hand through his hair a few times, and as he does that one of his fingers graze a rather tender spot on his neck. He turns his head ever so slightly and gently brushes his hair out of the way to get a better look, and there on his neck clear as day is a deep red circle of what looks like brambles with four overlapping diamonds in the middle. He touches it cautiously as he inspects it.

Just as he decides that the door to his room opens. He takes a cautionary step backwards and then he sees the same person from before. Just as ethereal and supernaturally beautiful as ever, although this time there are no serpentine scales adoring their face. No dimly glowing eyes and no long, pointed, sharp looking nails.

“Good you're finally awake! I thought you would be out for an entire week”

“You..you're the person from earlier”

“If by that you mean the person who kept you from dying then yes.”

“What did you do to me?”

“What is it with you and asking questions? We don’t have enough time to discuss all that. You’re probably hungry and there’s complimentary meal in the tavern downstairs if you’re stayin in the inn. So why don’t you stop asking questions and we get you some food instead?”

As if his stomach knows he's going to disagree it makes a noise in agreement, and he isn’t left with much room to refuse. “Fine. But, when we’re done you’ll explain everything to me.”

“We'll see about that. You’d think you’d just be happy you're alive.” They say with a roll of their eyes. “Let’s just go get some food into you and see what this little fishing port has to offer.”

Just like that Sakusa finds himself being led downstairs hand in hand with a person he has only really just met. But, he doesn't panic and instead wonders what he has gotten himself into.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #haikyuu!!#sakusa angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #drowning #tw drowning #tw: drowning #morpho writes #I want to play Dungeons and dragons so badly #also that drowning seen as one of the best things I have written to date

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thepetulantpen · 3 years

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(Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s my annual Saimota fic. As usual, keep an eye out for saimota fanart by @fancy-kryptonite)

The anticipation leading up to Valentine’s Day is persistent, all-consuming, and, above all, irrational. It builds and builds past the point of overthinking and well into sleepless nights.

Holidays are always like this- a sort of performance anxiety to be happy, to make a day special. In a sense, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. He knows it can’t possibly be perfect, so he ruins it for himself before he starts.

It reaches a breaking point in the form of him mentally throwing up his hands, tired of debating with himself. There have been enough grand, somewhat ridiculous gestures over the last few years. No one is expecting him to do anything elaborate, least of all Kaito- who Shuichi finds sprawled out on the grass, a pile of books abandoned at his side. Unconcerned with the holiday a few days away.

“I was thinking we could try something normal this year.”

Kaito raises his head, not confused by the non-sequitur, but mildly offended- insofar as any of Kaito’s expressions can be called mild. “I thought our other dates were normal?”

“Simple. I meant simple.” Shuichi can’t help smiling- only Kaito would consider scavenger hunts and secret love letters normal. He sits down beside Kaito, trying not to crush any of the books, borrowed far past their return date. “Easier to plan.”

Kaito looks relieved, and ecstatic- the latter of which is not particularly comforting. “Right, right. I’ve got the perfect thing.”

That’s fast, even for Kaito. Shuichi tries not to let it get to him- he hasn’t thought of anything specific yet. “Well, I figured we could each pick something- you take the morning, and I’ll take the afternoon?” Hopefully, that’ll give him enough time. “If you don’t mind. I mean, I could go first, if you’d rather.”

“Nah, I’ve got it covered.” He pats Shuichi on the back, with his usual lack of awareness of his own strength. “I won’t disappoint you, sidekick.”

I’ve really got to talk him into a new title.

He certainly sounds confident, but Shuichi has never known Kaito to not sound confident. He’d been thinking coffee or movies, but if Kaito has something perfect, then Shuichi has to step up his game. There’s only a day or two left- what could he do in that time?

“Shuichi? Did you hear me?” Kaito leans into his line of sight, waving his hand in front of Shuichi’s face. There’s no telling how long he’s been doing that for. He must take Shuichi’s expression for an apology, as he repeats himself, “I’ll text you the details. It’s a surprise, so don’t try to detect it, alright?”

Oh, good. Another thing for me to obsessively think about it.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Kaito doesn’t look convinced. Shuichi can’t say he is, either.

…

Despite Kaito’s insistence that Shuichi would guess before they got there, the escape room ends up being a pleasant surprise. The waiting room is charming, filled with props to take pictures with and a massive winners board, and the hallway is filled with unassuming doors labeled with puns related to their theme. Their room is, fittingly, made out to be the scene of an old-timey murder- Shuichi and Kaito, wearing the deerstalker hats hung near the door, being the detectives called in to solve it.

It only occurs to Shuichi about halfway through that he’s spending Valentine’s Day rifling through blood-stained documents about a fictional murder while Kaito yells nonsense guesses to word puzzles from across the room. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What if we arranged the dominos in a star shape? Is that anything?”

Shuichi glances up from the nearly illegible pages that have been unceremoniously shifted to his responsibility and finds Kaito juggling a tin of dominos and an armful of paintings that had once been on the walls. Those, at least, were meant to come off.

“Uh,” Shuichi hesitates, caught between about three puzzles at once- one of them being Kaito, in general, “It couldn’t hurt?”

Kaito grins, obviously happy to do something. The paintings are scattered across the table, now crowded with other clues jumbled beyond recognition. From a glance, Shuichi can see that the lines painted on might actually make a star- but he doubts someone’s been assigned to watch the camera and wait for them to artistically arrange the dominos.

Kaito is not stupid. He’s practically an astronaut and, aside from that, he can be brilliant with people, far more insightful than Shuichi. It’s just- he tends to think in the abstract, approaching problems in a way no one else would. Meaning that the people who made these puzzles would never arrive at the solutions Kaito picks out.

It doesn’t help that he refuses to use their hints, under any circumstances. The employee running the room had only egged him on by telling him no one had ever solved it in time without using a hint- Shuichi had accepted their fate, after hearing that.

The intercom clicks on, the false cheer of their game master giving them a five-minute warning. Kaito scoffs, confidence never dulled, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him- his hands, over the dominos, have stopped, apparently realizing it’s not getting him anywhere.

Shuichi had told himself, while they were waiting for the room to reset, that he wouldn’t take over. It’s supposed to be a casual game between the two of them, no pressure to win. Plenty of people fail these things, and they still have fun.

He has a feeling Kaito is not one of those people.

“We still have plenty of time,” Shuichi assures, surprised to sound so confident, “I think the dominos are color-coded. Take these,” he hands off one of the papers, still running through combinations on the others, “and give organizing them a shot.”

Kaito gives him a mock salute, but rises to the task. As predicted, he moves through the dominos quickly- giving Shuichi time to hurriedly unlock the next two safes. He’s had those figured out for a while, having thought he would have more time to guide them to the right answer.

The solutions themselves are not terribly difficult. Nothing like solving crime, in any practical way, but they force him to slow down and connect all the pieces, adding up how every seemingly unrelated item fits together.

“I’ve got it!” Kaito grins, the triumphant click of dominos set in the right position- a key to another code. “What’s next?”

“It corresponds to the filing cabinet,” he’s practically on autopilot as the clock ticks down, the flash of red numbers in his periphery, “I’ll take the desk drawers.”

It puts them shoulder to shoulder, both rapidly setting combinations and trading half-shouted numbers, unnecessary given their closeness. Kaito finishes first, so he gets to watch over Shuichi’s shoulder as he guesses the last clue.

For a second, it looks like he’s gotten it wrong, that he’s failed them both, before the lights flicker dramatically. They all go out, save for a hidden projector that lights up one wall with the image of a wailing ghost- ah, he’d forgotten they were supposed to be avenging some spirit. He’ll admit, he wasn’t listening very closely during the introduction, distracted by Kaito’s grin as he took in the room.

Kaito jumps about a foot in the air- clearly, he hadn’t been paying much attention either. Shuichi takes his arm, hoping to keep him from stepping on any of the discarded paintings.

“The necklace,” Kaito yells over the sound effects, wide eyed, “she wants the necklace!”

On impulse, Shuichi dives for it, digging through the pile they’ve accumulated, and tosses it to Kaito. He doesn’t present it to her so much as he holds it up as if it’s a crucifix he could use to exorcise her. The projection, unlike a real ghost, thankfully doesn’t mind his rudeness.

“I may finally be at peace.”

Figures that Kaito would be the one to bring peace to the ghost. It makes Shuichi smile, even as the lights are turned on abruptly, bringing an anti-climactic end to their adventure. The clock is paused at 17 seconds- not exactly a record to brag about, but he’ll take it.

On their way out, Kaito elbows him to get his attention. “So, how long did you know the answers?”

Shuichi smiles and says, “Not long.” Which, judging from his expression, Kaito translates to “since we got in the room.”

Kaito doesn’t seem bothered, not like Shuichi thought he might be. If anything, he looks delighted.

“We made a fantastic team, as usual. Under my guidance, of course.” He messes up Shuichi’s hair, a habit he didn’t bother kicking once they started dating. “With our smarts combined, we could do anything. You could be the first detective on the moon, you know?”

“I don’t know, maybe my calling is in paranormal investigations,” he teases, pretending not to notice Kaito’s grimace, “we could go on ghost hunts together.”

Kaito scowls, and Shuichi presses on, baiting the hook, “Unless you’re scared?”

“No man, nor beast, has ever bested me.” Kaito’s frown is close to genuine indignation, offended that Shuichi would consider him below ghosts. “Ghosts don’t even have bodies. I’ll take on a ghost, any time, any day.”

Luckily for Kaito, Shuichi thinks it’s unlikely he’ll ever have to deliver on that promise. “We’ll save that for another weekend, then.” He picks up the pace, leading the way, for once. “I’ve got something a little more romantic than a ghost hunt, this time.”

If Kaito looks inordinately relieved, Shuichi is generous enough not to notice.

…

Most people can tell when Shuichi is overthinking something. Most people know that answer is “always”.

Kaito can tell when Shuichi is thinking of overthinking something. The calm before the storm, the buzz of energy that has him tapping his foot incessantly while staring into space. It started well before their date, carrying into the weekend of Valentine’s Day.

It all hits in the form of an over-packed backpack and piles of printed maps, stacked in the backseat. Shuichi has a schedule, complete with an annotated map of their hiking trail and final destination.

“We should make it there just as it gets dark enough to see stars. It’ll be a perfect view.”

The emphasis is obviously placed on perfect, Shuichi’s smile just a bit forced. Kaito gives the map a once-over- credit where credit is due, it looks as close to the perfect spot as you could get- and gives Shuichi a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

He may not be a detective, but it’s not hard to figure out that anything Shuichi comes up with will be incredible. It’d be difficult to have a bad time with Shuichi; any time spent with him feels like time well spent. The beautiful hiking trail is only a bonus.

Kaito wouldn’t be surprised if Shuichi’s plans were flawless, every second mapped out. Every funny looking tree, every set of tracks in the ground- all set up for Kaito to notice, or for them to use as landmarks. Shuichi could say he’s set the stars on a timer, and Kaito might just believe him. If anyone could do it, it’d be Shuichi.

The sky, however, seems to have other plans.

The clouds start rolling late in the afternoon and stick around stubbornly after the sun sets, filtering reds and purples through grey film. At certain angles, Kaito can see the moon in their gaps, but there’re hardly any stars persevering through. Dark grey shadows move over what might have otherwise been a fairly bright sky, now dimmed to a heavy static.

It's remarkable in its own right, patterns of grey standing out starkly against the abyss of the night sky. It feels like the clouds are the only thing between them and limitless space, a simple barrier to surpass. Kaito only feels more drawn to it, eager to peel back the layers to see the stars for himself.

“I checked the weather,” Shuichi mutters, miserably, “I had three backups, and I was sure this one would be clear skies. I even looked up the constellations you could see from here-“

“That’s alright.” The grass has started to cool rapidly in the darkness, no springtime warmth remaining to greet them. Kaito lays out his coat to sit on, instead, and leaves Shuichi the more generous half. “It’s a great view, like you said.”

Shuichi squints at him, suspicious. “You can’t see any stars.”

“Stars aren’t the only thing I came here to see.” Kaito puts an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders, pulling against his side. He’s never embarrassed to be close to Shuichi, but he’ll admit he likes it best when it’s just the two of them, no distractions, no threat of self-consciousness. “It’s perfect.”

Shuichi looks down, hiding a smile. “Next you’ll be dropping cheesy lines with star metaphors.”

“There’s nothing wrong with star metaphors!”

He should be offended when Shuichi laughs at that, but he can’t bring himself to pretend. Shuichi’s laugh is reward enough- even if, objectively, star metaphors are among the best romantic gestures.

He’s still got work to do, as Shuichi sits silently beside him, staring at the galaxy print of Kaito’s jacket to avoid looking at the sky. It’s obvious he’s under the impression that he’s failed somehow, which just won’t do. As the hero to his sidekick, it’s Kaito’s responsibility to let him know he’s wrong- just, perhaps, not in those exact words.

Kaito nudges Shuichi and leans forward, craning his neck to get the best view of the clouds above them. “You’re underestimating the sky. Look, there’s always something beautiful to see.”

He points at the formations of clouds, shapes made of negative space against the moonlight. Their tops are highlighted by the escaping light, scattering over the uneven, cottony surface. Shuichi’s head tilts to follow him- it reminds Kaito of the escape room, focus taking over his expression. It’d almost feel out of place here, beneath the clouds with nothing of substance to analyze, if Kaito wasn’t used to seeing it all the time, for anything from figuring out a new coffee machine to spoiling a detective show by guessing the killer early.

“That one looks like a bear,” Kaito takes Shuichi by the shoulders, directing him to the cloud in question, “See? The other clouds are like the salmon it’s chasing.”

Shuichi doesn’t manage to sound very convincing, but he tries his best when he agrees, “I think I see it.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar, Shuichi?”

Shuichi elbows him in retaliation, turning away from the stars to look up at him. He’s going for disapproving, but Kaito can see through him, far easier than seeing through the cloud layer.

Somedays, it’s hard to believe that Shuichi bothers to hang around with him. Kaito considers himself good company, but for Shuichi? He’s not sure he qualifies- and yet here they are, under the stars. Or clouds, as it is.

“One day, I’ll bring you to see the stars up close. We’ll go high above the clouds and into the night sky.” Kaito holds him closer, no longer interested in looking at the sky. “Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” Shuichi leans more into him, pushing for room on Kaito’s jacket. When he smiles this time, he doesn’t hide it. “I’ll have to consider space for next Valentine’s Day.”

He doesn’t sound serious, like he doesn’t completely believe Kaito will be able to pull it off. That’s alright- he has plenty of time to prove him wrong.

Kaito’s not being completely honest, anyway. Space isn’t his ideal Valentine’s Day- and it’s not an escape room, or star-gazing, either. It’s by Shuichi’s side, wherever that might be. If it’s watching reruns of mysteries he’s memorized the solutions to, or teasing him for his choice of black coffee, or just laying on the grass, staring up at the same sky.

The promise of another Valentine’s with Shuichi makes it all worth it. Kaito doesn’t need much else- though, he’s still looking forward to sweeping the clearance section of chocolates.

#Valentine’s Day #saimota #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #danganronpa v3 #pseudo-sequel to my other saimota fics #this is very rough but ill probably do another round of edits before i post on ao3 in a few days

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thejolexgroupchat · 3 years

Text

the one where they met in med school - part twenty-two

siblings and paper rings

Hello everyone!! Thanks so much for all of your support for this fic. We hope you enjoy this next section!

(March 2009)

———

"Alex!" Meredith screeched as she met him in the hallway. "Alex! Answer your damn phone. I've been trying to call you for the past hour. Why weren't you answering my calls?"

"Sorry, Jo and I were in an on-call room, ya know," Alex smirked, a smug glint in his eye.

"Ew, gross," Meredith made a face. "I did not need to know that."

"Well, aren't you happy that I didn't answer your calls while we were—"

"No, no, I'm going to stop you right there because I don't want to hear about the dirty, jailhouse hooker things that you and Jo do in the dark corners of the hospital," Meredith shuddered. "Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about?”

“What did you want to talk about?” Alex exhaled impatiently.

“I wanted to talk about why your brother showed up at my house this morning while I was in the shower,” Meredith whisper-yelled. “Why didn’t I know you have a brother? And why doesn’t he know where you live?”

“Crap,” Alex paused in the middle of the hallway. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I told him I’d bring him here with me to see you, so he’s hanging out in the lounge right now,” Meredith answered.

The pair walked down to the residents’ lounge quickly. When Alex entered, he saw his brother standing there, talking to Izzie, Lexie, Jackson and Cristina.

“Alex is the oldest, then me, and then Amber,” Aaron took a bite out of the granola bar in his hand. “Amber’s graduating from St. Savior’s in May. She’s… she’s smart like Alex. She could go to college if she wanted to, but she’s like “what’s the point?” you know?” And I don’t know what to tell her. Alex is the doctor in the family. I just move people for a living.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Alex chuckled lightly, startling Aaron, whose face lit up upon hearing Alex’s voice.

“Alex!” Aaron grinned and pulled his older brother into a tight hug. “Man you got old.”

“Dude, uh, what are you doing here?” Alex asked again.

“I had to drive to Portland on a job, and since Portland is in the neighborhood...” Aaron shrugged.

“Well, Portland is not in the neighborhood,” Alex shook his head, an amused smile on his face.

“It’s three hours,” Aaron waved dismissively. “I can do three hours in my sleep.”

“Alex, he’s your brother. He’s allowed to come say hi,” Lexie rolled her eyes.

“I’m overdue for a visit,” Aaron explained. “It’s been almost five and a half years.”

“No it has not,” Alex made a face.

“Since you’ve been home?” Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Five and a half years.”

“You haven’t been home in five years?” Izzie gasped.

“Has it been five years?” Meredith looked at Alex expectantly.

“Amber was twelve the last time we saw you. It was that Christmas when you brought Jo home for the first time and mom walked in on you guys having sex because you’d just gotten together the night before,” Aaron chuckled at the memory.

“Glad to see some things never change,” Cristina muttered under her breath. “We walk in on them on a weekly basis around here. They've been going at it like rabbits for the past few weeks.”

“We were not having sex,” Alex protested. “We were… kissing that’s all.”

“Oh yes, kissing with no clothes on. Definitely not having sex,” Aaron quipped sarcastically, garnering a few chuckles from the residents in the room. “Where is Jo by the way? Doesn’t she work here with you?”

“Aaron?”

“Speak of the devil,” Jackson nudged Lexie as Jo stood in the doorway of the lounge.

“Jo?”

“Ah! Aaron?” Jo rushed over and embraced him enthusiastically. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it!” Jo pulled away to get a good look at Aaron. “Look at you. You’re all grown up.”

“Grown up enough to get you to leave my brother for me?” Aaron joked.

“Yikes, I hate to break it to you, but there’s only one Karev that holds the number one spot in my heart,” Jo paused for dramatic effect. “Amber.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed at his girlfriend. “I think my mom would agree too. I think all of us would agree.”

“He’s right,” Aaron nodded, a smile on his face.

“So, what’s going on?” Jo asked. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but, why are you here?”

“Well, I missed you guys,” Aaron tilted his head. “But since you guys are doctors, I thought I’d ask…” Aaron lifted up his shirt. “Should I be worried about this?”

***

When he woke up that morning, Alex did not think he’d be spending the first part of his day trying to locate Dr. Bailey in order to beg her to perform his brother’s umbilical hernia repair pro bono. But there he found himself filling out his brother’s paperwork as Aaron roamed the halls in a hospital gown saying God knows what to all of his coworkers. By the time Alex found Aaron again, he was sitting at a chair behind the nurses station, staring at the scans the Jo had pulled up.

“And that right there is a kidney,” Jo pointed at the screen.

“No way,” Aaron’s lips curved up slightly. “That’s so cool. Sometimes I wish I would’ve gone to school or training of some sort. I’ve always thought that I could’ve been a good firefighter.”

“You’ve still got plenty of time,” Jo encouraged. “You’re young and can do whatever you want.”

“I guess you’re right,” Aaron nodded. “I gotta live through this surgery first.”

“It’s a simple procedure,” Alex explained as he came up beside them. “Dr. Bailey is one of the best and she’s done this countless times. You’re going to be fine.”

“Alright, well I’ve got to go,” Jo straightened and placed a small kiss on Alex’s cheek. “I’m in the pit today with Hunt. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” Alex replied watching as Jo walked away.

“You look stupid,” Aaron made fun of his older brother who glared at him. “I’m serious. You’re watching her walk away like you’re never going to see her again.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to your room.”

“Why aren’t you guys, you know, married yet?” Aaron asked when they finally got back to his hospital room.

“Because we’re not,” Alex replied simply.

“That’s not an answer,” Aaron sat down on the bed. “I’m serious. Why haven’t you married her? You guys have been together for over five years. What are you doing? Is this it? Is this all you have to give of yourself?”

“Of course not,” Alex sighed. “Look, we haven’t really told anyone this, but we’re kind of trying for a baby.”

“You’re trying for a what, now?” Aaron’s eyes bulged. “A baby? As in an actual child that’s half you, half her, that you would raise together?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed out a shaky laugh. “Yeah we are… well, weren’t not exactly trying, just not... preventing anything.”

“That’s great man. I’m happy for you two. I’m glad that you feel ready to take that step,” Aaron patted Alex's shoulder. “That still doesn’t explain why you haven’t popped the question yet. Grandma Lois would kill you if she found out that you were trying to knock your girl up before marrying her.”

“I think I’m going to propose soon. I need to get a ring though, and it has to be perfect… I want to give her everything. She deserves that,” Alex stated quietly.

“You may want to give her everything, but honestly? I don’t think she wants everything,” Aaron looked up at his older brother’s puzzled face. “I think she just wants you. And to be married to you and have kids with you. You’re all she wants and all she really needs. I know you aren’t used to that because of the way we grew up, but Alex, you’re going to keep making excuses for why you can’t propose for the rest of your life as long as you keep thinking that she deserves better than what you can give her.”

“When did you get so smart?” Alex narrowed his eyes. “I swear, the last time I saw you, the only thing on your mind was football and sex.”

“I grew up,” Aaron shrugged, a dimpled smile donning his cheeks. “Just ask her to marry you already. If you want, I’ll go with you to look at rings as soon as they clear me after surgery.”

“I’d like that,” Alex grinned, leaning forward to ruffle Aaron’s hair. “You’re going places, kid.”

***

Two Weeks Later

“Did you hear Nurse Jen got engaged last weekend? She came back from skiing with a massive rock on her hand.”

“Really? That’s like the sixth one in the past two months,” Cristina’s voice was annoyed, Meredith chuckling at her. “I only know because they always make a big deal out of their gloves ripping on the flashy rings their spoiled rich boy fiancé’s buy them.”

Alex rolled his eyes as he shrugged out of his scrub top and grabbed his shirt from his locker. He was used to the pointless gossip the three girls swapped in the locker room, their voices and laughter always echoing out louder than anything else happening in the room.

“Maybe the next one won’t be a nurse but one of our very own residents,” Meredith chucked her scarf at Alex, making him toss the fabric back and stare down the three women with a disgruntled stare. “Don’t give me that look, I think it’s about time you manned up and popped the question to Jo! I mean it feels like just yesterday we were calling her Dracula and now she’s kicking ass and taking names.”

“She’s got a point, Evil Spawn, pretty soon she’s gonna get tired of your shit and realize she’s way too good for you,” Alex met Cristina with a glare, the dark haired woman winking at him in return. “Seriously though, why’re you dragging your feet?”

“Shut up,” Alex grunted, trying to push the conversation aside.

“C'mon, Alex, you guys have been together for a million years and you haven’t even thought about marrying her,” Izzie threw her hands up in exasperation as Cristina and Meredith nodded their heads in agreement. “I'd be getting impatient if I were her. Me and George weren’t even together when we got married. But we loved each other and that was enough. Especially since life is short and you never know how much time you have left.”

“If it’s the commitment you’re afraid of, that’s okay. We’re all messed up and have problems with that, but I have to agree with them, Alex. Time is ticking,” Meredith said, folding her clothes and putting them in the locker. “And if it’s the wedding you’re worried about, you can always borrow my post-it notes.” She chuckled, making the other girls join her in a laughing fit.

“Leave me alone, all three of you. I have thought about marrying her, I’m aware that she could do much better, and I’m not afraid of commitment or the wedding part. I actually want to have a giant wedding, for your information,” Alex scowled before allowing his face to soften a bit. “And I don’t owe you any explanation because this is none of your business, but…” he rummaged around his locker and pulled out a tiny box that made all the women gasp giddily. “I’ve had to keep it here for the past week because she’d find it in the loft, but I’m proposing. Tonight.” He smiled, sitting down and showing them the ring.

“Oh crap!” Cristina’s eyes widened. “You bought an actual diamond engagement ring.”

“No I’m proposing with a paper ring,” Alex deadpanned. “Of course I bought a ring.”

“Alex, this ring is beautiful,” Izzie fawned over it.

“Really? You think she’ll like it?” He looked at it one more time before turning his gaze to the trio standing right behind him.

“I think she’ll love it,” Meredith said.

“Good. All those options at the store made me anxious. I never thought I’d ever go ring shopping, so I’m still a bit insecure about my choice, but I hope you’re right. I hope she loves it,” Alex let out a nervous breath, closing the little box again and putting it back in the back of his locker.

“Dude, grow a pair,” Cristina teased him.

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes, making them laugh as they made their way out of the room.

“Don’t worry, Evil Spawn. Dracula is gonna love it. You did a great job,” Cristina patted his back with a smile on her face as they parted ways.

What did you think of this chapter of the med school fic? Are you just as excited as we are? Let us know what you think in the comments!

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seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

Anonymous

ahh!! all the nii-san posts are so good, but have you considered twin brother tobio who thinks your the only one for him

I have,, It has affected my sanity and rings in my head a hundred times a day. I hate it here. Truly. This became sorta really long? But I hope you enjoy (・´ｪ｀・)

tw incest, dubcon if you squint

The flashes of light are incessant, an obnoxious wave of noisy shutters filling the silence in between mutters and questions. Your fists around the bottom lining of your old jacket, denting the fabric under the light ministrations of your fingertips. It’s nerves, they still creep up from time to time when you feel the eyes. They linger, curious or accusatory ones alike. Another flash makes you blink, then it’s quiet. You take a breath at the same time he does, accidental, but of course you do. You’ve always mirrored him after all, even when you weren’t trying. Tobio holds the air until everything grows completely immovable, like still water in winter.

His eyebrows twitch slightly, before he speaks. “I am happy.” Simple, straightforward, you can’t help but let your smile shine through. He eyes the interviewer for a moment, before nodding. “We’ve all worked hard to prove we deserve a spot on the court, it was a good match and I’m happy with the outcome.” The interviewers quickly take notes, before another sea of flashes rains down on the curved panes of his face. It’s his standard post-match ramble, nothing new there, but you can see the spark of victory where it bends him in two and shatters at the fold. “And,” his eyes flick around across the small group of people.

They find yours. “My sister came to support us in the stands so I am very proud.” The deep blues rest on you like you’re the end of a war, his lips turning upwards at the sides. He is proud, of you, and you of him just as much. Or even more if possible, though you are quicker to lower your gaze at the attention. An interviewer to your side clears her voice, before clicking her pen a few times in rapid succession. The press irritates him, though he’s gotten very good at hiding it over the years. In this moment though, you can tell.

It’s written all over in the way he stands on balls of his feet, like he’s ready to sprint out. You wonder if he would reach for you before setting off, or if you’d have to chase him down the hall like another of the fans. Either way you wouldn’t be far behind, it’s just the nature of your relationship. The lads presses her ruby lips together. “When will you take another girlfriend to a game? You broke up with your last girlfriend in May, fans want to know if it is true that you are keeping your newest fling private.”

Ushijima gives you a little head tilt as he walks past, his cheeks coloured from exhaustion, towel still dangling around his neck. You return it. A few of the interviewers immediately turn their attention to him, snapping photos and calling out for him with an almost violent greediness, the small interaction not going unnoticed. You think you hear someone mention your name to him in the same line as ‘dating’, and Wakatoshi’s deep chuckle is comforting when he leads the bunch of them down the hall. Tobio is frowning when you turn back, at the woman with the high ponytail and red lips that shimmer under the artificial lighting.

“I would’ve kept all of it private if that could have been the end of it.” He raises a hand to brush some of his sweaty hair away from his face, before dropping his eyes to the floor. “I only bring the people precious to me to my games.” He does. He asks happily, over the phone like a giddy child, at the crack of dawn when he goes for his run. You’ve complained about it many times. He still does it though, because Tobio is nothing if not persistent. You only notice him moving because the people around you gasp and gawk, flinching away from him like he’s other. He is, too, a different breed entirely.

His long fingers are around your wrist, pulling you from behind the lenses to his side, tucked against his shoulder like a little parasite. That’s what you think you must look like when the flashing starts. Tobio’s arm wraps around your back and rests his chin on your head though, allowing you to fit right in his hold. Another one of his shiny trophies. His smile looks a little brighter from this angle. “My sister is the only one who has never missed a game of mine. If you want to report on anything, this is the person I am most grateful for in my life right now. I’m very lucky to have her support.”

It feels unreal. Someone calls out your name, the shutters get the noisiest they’ve been all day. It won’t be a headline in the making, you try to calm yourself, bowing at the same time Tobio does. He drops his hand to wrap around yours, and tugs you behind him. It’s straightforward, your brother always is. The violent banging against your rib cage is less so, but you’ve gotten used to it already.

///

“Why did you say all that stuff to those guys earlier? Were you not feeling too well?” Tobio looks up from where he’s putting his bag down, his eyes shooting up along your body. “You’re normally good at dealing with the press post-match.” You put the towel under the water, before turning back towards the main room of your apartment.

“What did I say that was wrong?” He tosses his sweaty shirt on the heap of jerseys and leggings to wash, picking up his towel and swinging it around his neck. You look down again, playing with the fluffy fabric as you approach.

“Nothing, Tobio. I just-” you linger at the couch, resting your hip against it, “you don’t normally egg on rumours about your dating life. It’ll be fine because it’s me, but if it were anyone else people might be cautious of your words. They really want a story on the details, you know. And I’m not really used to being next to you on pictures, it was a bit surprising, s’all.”

“I meant what I said.”

He closes the rest of the distance for you, standing toes to toes. You don’t look up until you can feel the soft puff of air on your head, where he lays a kiss. It feels warm, and good, and you bite your tongue when the pounding of your heart starts feeling painful against your chest. You duck away from it the second time, pushing his chin up with two fingers instead. Tobio smiles into his exhale, as you trace across his features with the wet towel. Brows, eyes, nose, under his chin and along the line of his throat. “Are you mad at me?” He drops his eyes back to yours when you frown, before tacking onto your slight frustration. “Or about the dating?”

“Tobio,” you mumble, pulling out of his vicinity too late. His hand is already on your forearm, tugging you right back in place. Face to his chest with barely enough space to look up all the way to his handsome face. You try to keep it out, but your tongue starts to feel a bit bitter anyway. “I really don’t want to-”

“Because we can stop doing that as soon as you say so. They get paid a lot of money, money I’d rather be using on us. I’m tired of doing it.”

Even now, still spent from the match, he smells like safety. Like home, perfectly familiar. You have to physically distance yourself from him by turning your eyes to the couch, not to melt right into him. “Then don’t,” you nod. “But then I have to stop being less… everywhere with you too, and I don’t think you want that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a good actor, Tobio. I can’t pretend not to care and people will look at us, and see.”

“Then let them.”

You sigh, dropping the towel aside under the arm that he’s still holding. He draws gentle circles into the soft skin, like he’s trying to unpick the rips in every single fiber of your threaded sanity. “You’re impossible.” He bends his knees and drops to your level, kissing you. Softly, a few feather-light kisses that shut you up, and then one that breaks you open. He pulls you into him by the waist, the hard lines of his chest against your softer ones. The press of his lips to yours is sweet, though entirely guilty as he uses the leverage on your body to walk you back a little, melting into you.

He bites at your bottom lip and swipes his tongue at yours, sucking eagerly. You imagine his tongue to spell out ‘mine’ on the soft parts of your mouth a million times, because when he gives you a break to breathe you’re dizzy. “You said we weren’t going to do this again.”

“I‘ve been a better liar than you for a while, little sister,” he grins, though you can see the hesitation in his eyes too. This is such a bad thing, it’s wrong, you know it and Tobio must know too. It eats you up inside, but maybe that’s why it’s so easy to believe him. You let your face drop against his chest, letting the rise and fall of his chest dictate yours. “You were made for me, remember? And I for you. And I wished that we’d get married and you wished we’d always be together forever.”

“On our fifth birthday,” you remind him, ignoring his hand when it starts playing with the edge of your worn jacket. It’s his, you suddenly hate how obvious you are. Tobio hums softly at your frown.

“I never stopped meaning it.” He uses one of his long legs to hook around yours and pushes you over into the couch, though you land softly. And while you’re trying to catch your breath from the sudden tilt, he follows you down, coming to lift your knees open and upwards. He leans down on his forearms on top of you, and presses another kiss to your lips. This one is lazier, like he’s already won. He has. Because you shouldn’t be in this situation at all. “I love you,” he whispers, starting to kiss down your neck and zipping open his old jacket from your body.

His large body slotted in between your legs, he presses his hips into you just enough to drive you absolutely mad. “I can’t stay away from you, so stop pushing already,” he moans, reaching down to shift himself in his shorts. Your body, the traitorous thing, basically shudders in excitement when he pulls your top underneath your tits, leaning down to take a bud into his mouth. “Say it,” he ruts his hips into yours now, the friction making you whine. It feels so good, he feels so good.

“I- I love you,” you close your eyes when he smiles at you again, lifting himself from your body to drag your shorts and panties down your legs. “Ah- ‘want you, Tobio.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting back in the couch, “want you too, been wanting you for so long. So long, you have no idea.” He pulls at you until you get up too, sitting you down on his lap, his hard cock slotted between your thighs with a his. “How did you expect me to fuck this perfect, little hole and forget about it, anyway? I belong in this tight cunny, it belongs to me.” He’s rambling, humping you in his lap with his head thrown back and his fingers digging so deep into the skin of your hips they might leave permanent indents.

You press a few kisses to his throat, which he grunts at, before lining up and sliding down the head. He’s already so big, that’s what you remember most. You twitch as you lower yourself on him, moaning through the deep breaths. He stretches you so wide it’s hard to think of anything else, just Tobio. Tobio, Tobio, your Tobio. He drops his forehead on your shoulder when you’re full, before thrusting up into you. You start moving up and down too fast for his liking but your patience has worn too thin for slow. “Wait, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Tobio chokes, shoving you back down in his lap. His cockhead is already at the very end of your sloppy cunt, pressing against every inch.

“Want your fat cock to break me open, please. I need it. I need you. Tobio, please.” He kisses down your face and neck to let you adjust a moment longer, before rolling his length deep inside you once, twice, filling you up over and over again. Mind blank, you lift yourself up a bit higher to drop down on him, his breathing getting shallower by the second. He mumbles out soft curses, and you cling to him. You won’t last. “T-Tobio,” you beg, and he slides his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit with precise movements. “Wanna cum on your cock. You too, cum into me, please.”

He only picks up the pace more when he flips you back over on your back, rutting his cock into you so deep it kisses your cervix with each thrust. Fingers sliding through the sticky mess with calculated precision. “Cum then, slutty girl. Cum on your brother’s cock, you deserve it. I’ll fuck you until you can’t ever think of what others think again.” His hips smack into your doughy skin with every pump, stretching you wide open for him. You can only hang onto him while you cum, moaning his name over and over. “Ahg— Tobio, fuck, holyfuckholyfuck I love you. Love you, Tobio!” Your arms around his shoulders, nails ruining his beautiful skin. “I’m sorry,” you breathe as he kisses you, never once stopping.

He doesn’t give you rest, can’t. But his lips are all over yours, comforting you even now. “I know, baby, I know.” He forces himself to slow down a little as you clamp around him so tight, not ready to let this end. His hips twitch, eyes sharpening on your fucked expression. The rush of love he feels should be illegal. “You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it ever again. I’m going to fuck you limp.”

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whyralltheusernamestaken · 4 years

Note

Hello! If you have time I would like a scenario with Deku with a male or gender neutral reader who was supposed to be the next successor of one for all but all might kinda forgot about them (like they ate his hair and got one for all but he just forgot about them). And now they’ve become one of the most powerful villains and they want to kill all night and Deku as revenge. I just love how you write and I just had to request something🥰

Hi omg I cannot describe how excited I was when I saw this so I might have word v/mitted and written a little too much… Thank you so much for requesting and I'm so so happy that you enjoy my writing! Midoriya x gn!reader Warnings : smallest mention of abuse (dabi), bit of fighting, kinda angsty Words : 1.5k

You rested your elbows against the window sill, cheek against your palm as the clouds drifted slowly across the sky. The sun disappeared as you watched the young blonde lunge forwards, the ball leaving his fingertips at an incredible speed. A loud explosion rang across the field and to your ears as the crisp autumn air nipped at your face.

The chatter of your classmates behind you were tuned out as you watched excitedly, analyzing each and every one of the first years, seeing perhaps if any of them had potential in the upcoming years. Not that they could ever beat you, given that you were All Might successor, or at least were. As the second year drew to an end, he had seemingly forgotten all traces of your existence, acknowledging you only briefly as just another UA student in the background, rather than someone who he had passed his quirk to. You had bitterness seeping into your heart, a slight resentment to the number 1 hero, but as the seasons changed and you entered your third year, you had convinced yourself there must’ve been another reason.

Perhaps he didn’t need a successor anymore. You wondered if by some miracle his wounds had completely healed and he no longer reverted back to his weaker, skeleton like self. Possibly he had just forgotten to tell you, or felt embarrassed that he had passed his quirk on so quickly only to not have needed the haste. But your months of comforting yourself that there was a good reason suddenly shattered right there in just those few seconds. Your eyes widened as the boy pressed forwards, accelerating the ball with a power that you undeniably also shared. Slack jawed and in utter shock, you rubbed your eyes to see if somehow they had deceived you, yet when nothing in your vision changed, your surprise turned to spite.

All might had abandoned you.

You felt yourself fill with anger, shaking as you brought your clenched fists down onto the window, splintering the wood in fury before turning and storming from the classroom. The sudden urge to flee from this place infested with heroes overwhelmed you. They had lied to you, every single one of them. The teachers presented themselves as the good guys, always on your side and full of hope. Yet why then did the most admired person pick your pitiful self up from the ground, build you up as if you had hope of ever becoming the successor to the entire country’s hero, just for them to simply tear it all away at the last minute. You knew you were right when you first believed All Might had completely cast you aside. You were right to think that you were so utterly useless. If you had just remained that little quirkless child you wouldn’t even be here wasting your years, desperately trying to be a hero and gaining approval from someone who had simply thrown you to the curb and moved on to the next boy without batting an eye.

And with that, you left the school.

~~~

It had been a good few months after dropping out from your high school. The league had offered you a place with them, providing food and shelter as you helped out during odd tasks, on the smallest occasions even accompanying All for One. It had been a drastic change for you, suddenly dropping out of school the next day and disappearing entirely, your family and friends having no clue where you were. Your new associates had decided to test you, inviting you along to what you were told was a small robbery, instead being the ambush on the first year’s rescue day.

You had stepped out of Kurogiri’s portal of purple smoke, expecting to be in the dusty alleyways behind a small bank, instead stepping into the rock ground of the rescue center, a place where you yourself were very familiar with having been constantly with your former friends in the past year.

“So, we’re here because?” you trailed off, kicking at the small loose rocks on the ground as you heard murmurs and shouts from a small crowd of students a few meters away from you.

“We are the league of villains.” Shigaraki announced, ignoring you to which you rolled your eyes at him. “And we have come here today to kill the symbol of peace.”

Your face lit up at this, any previous gratitude and fondness towards your mentor were gone. Instead a sick empty hole remained in your stomach, waiting to be filled up with the feeling of his blood on your hands. The sight of the trembling green head made you sick. You simply could not understand why All Might had tossed you aside for… that. Even to the blindest of people, you would’ve been the obvious choice. And yet here you were, not even second choice to some wimp who was trembling at the sight of a few villains. Truly useless.

The day had ended, unfortunately, with everyone on the hero’s side still alive, and your most powerful weapon lost somewhere behind the shattered glass dome of the center. The day had been an utter complete failure, yet the league ceased to doubt your loyalty to them, offering you various more jobs and even to recruit new members.

It was at that moment that the rest of the world realised that they had lost you for good.

~~~

The next time you came in contact with the boy was their rescue of the blonde. The same boy you had observed months prior, even been in the same school. All Might’s entrance was rather tacky for your tastes, stupid, just like the rest of the heros. Your disgust for them had grown tremendously over the time you had spent with the league and learning of Dabi’s poor treatment from the second most powerful hero simply made you sickened at even the title.

You were rather thankful that you hadn’t grown to follow what was once your childhood dream, following the twisted and corrupt system to abuse and neglect your loved ones for the power and social acknowledgement of having a ranking. Instead you stayed by the shadows, watching and criticizing their actions with Twice and Toga as you reported back on their actions, having stalked them for a good few hours each day.

And here you stood, on the side of All for One, your former mentor’s arch nemesis, vowing to see the end to All Might by your own means. The new successor you had come to learn was named Deku, a truly fitting name and you sneered at him, reeling back your arm as you lunged at him.

“I wonder how you would feel if your newest successor died.” you snarled, Midoriya barely dodging out of the way. Your punch landed on the ground, the concrete breaking into small pieces, flying into the air to which you kicked out your leg. They flew in the direction of your swing, hitting the boy square in the back.

“How is it possible that you have one for all? I’ve only ever had one successor.” All Might responded confused, his grin sliding off his face as he bore his eyes into you. “Y/N you are certainly mistaken and your judgment is clouded. Come back to the heroes and you will not be punished for this.”

“Heroes? Don’t make me sick.” you laughed, throwing another punch at the boy. “You left me All Might.” you screamed, your bottled up bitterness exploding within you as you were now head on with the same brat who had replaced you. “You gave me your damn quirk for what reason? How dare you turn your back on me for… for this thing!”

As you continued to swing, you felt your feet be restricted, looking down to see your entire lower leg encased in ice. With one punch, you shattered the ice, stepping forwards with even more anger.

“Midoriya, get back! You can’t defeat them.” a boy screamed.

“That’s certainly right.” you laughed, kicking off the ground again. “I’m not letting you go, Deku!”

As more pro heroes arrived at the scene, you felt yourself grow more and more desperate. The panic in your friends' voices was clear, telling you to stop engaging with the enemy, but you felt yourself being blinded by fury and the need to end Deku’s life.

“Y/N, fall back!” Dabi shouted, running towards you and letting out a shield of blue flames as he carried you to a purple portal. You felt your entire resolve crumble as you watched All for One fall to the floor.

“I will kill you All Might!” you screamed, baring your teeth before Dabi’s arm dragged you back into the portal.

“That is a promise.”

extra : Hc that a villain used a memory erase quirk on All Might and Y/N doesn’t know that and never tried to ask as he was convinced it was his fault.

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swaps55 · 4 years

Text

Cafune

Shepard’s cabin is a hell of an upgrade over crew quarters. Considerably less foot traffic, for one, private bathroom for another. The dim lighting alone is heaven. It’s always too bright on the crew deck. Hell, Kaidan even kinda likes the fish.

But it’s the company he really enjoys.

He shifts in his spot on the couch, nestling a little deeper against Shepard, who tightens the arm looped around his waist in response. Kaidan is still at least attempting to read through the reports that have been piling up. But Shepard has spent the last several minutes ignoring his datapad in favor of gazing at Kaidan.

It’s…nice. Really nice. Especially when the datapad gets tossed aside entirely and Shepard’s fingers start carding through his hair.

A smile curves Kaidan’s lips. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Shepard says softly. “I missed this, you know.”

“Touching my hair?”

“Mmm. Also the rest of you.” He presses a kiss to Kaidan’s temple.

A contented sigh slips out of Kaidan’s throat. “Believe me, I missed it, too.”

Shepard’s fingers continue working, making the datapad in Kaidan’s hand less and less interesting. But then they still, followed by a deliberate intake of breath. After a few seconds, Shepard exhales and starts moving his fingers again.

“What is it?” Kaidan asks.

Another pause. “Nothing.”

Kaidan hides a smile and keeps skimming his datapad, even though at this point he isn’t reading a word. Shepard doesn’t hesitate to say what’s on his mind. Only Sam does. “Uh huh. Well, whenever you change your mind, let me know.”

Shepard grunts. But a minute later he drops his hand and shifts his position a little. “Can I ask you something?”

There it is.

“Of course.”

More shifting. “While, uh, while I was dead, did you…?”

Kaidan tightens up without meaning to. Those two years are never going to be an easy subject, especially when Shepard throws the word dead around so easily.

As if sensing his discomfort, Shepard draws Kaidan a little closer to him. “Never mind.”

Kaidan sets the datapad down and settles against him. Shepard’s death certainly isn’t a pleasant topic, but bridging it while tucked in his arms…helps. “No, go on. Did I what?”

“It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Sam. There are things about…that I’d rather not talk about. But doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it at all. What do you want to know?”

He clears his throat, expression a little sheepish. “Just…wondering if you, ah…met anyone.”

Kaidan blinks. Well. That’s…not what he expected. “Are you…asking if I dated anyone after Alchera?”

“I mean, it’s fine if you did,” he says quickly. “Two years is a long time. People move on.”

A hoarse laugh escapes Kaidan’s throat. Move on. He’d spent the first year in a fugue, and the second convincing himself that functioning wasn’t enough; he had to live, too. He hadn’t quite mastered it by the time Hackett dropped the Freedom’s Progress file in his lap.

Move on. Everyone told him he would, eventually. Some days he’d even believed them.

“Sam…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepard says, voice gentle. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Why do you ask?” Kaidan asks, curious. If there’s one thing they’ve generally done right, it’s believe in the way they feel about each other. Well. Once they’d mustered the courage to say how they felt about each other, anyway.

Besides, dating is all but a foreign language to Sam. Not that Kaidan has a much better track record of it.

Shepard’s fingers return to Kaidan’s scalp. Kaidan’s not sure if it’s meant to reassure him, or reassure Sam. “I guess…your thing with Joker reminded me…I’ll never know what kind of hell you really went through.”

Ah, right. The thing. While Shepard was with Cerberus, Joker apparently hadn’t mentioned just how contentious things had gotten after Alchera.

“If you found something, er, someone, who made it a little less hellish,” he continues, “Well.”

Kaidan closes his eyes and revels in the gentle churn of Shepard’s fingers. “I don’t really…date, Sam.”

Shepard makes a noncommittal sound.

Kaidan opens his eyes, sensing a challenge. “Come on. In the five years we served together, did I ever date anyone?”

A hesitant look crosses Shepard’s face. It takes Kaidan a moment to understand it, but when he gets there he chuckles in disbelief.

“You’re actually going to say the researcher we ran into on Arcturus, aren’t you.”

Shepard withdraws his fingers from Kaidan’s hair and gestures. “Come on, you can’t argue that wasn’t a date.”

“We had drinks,” Kaidan reminds him. “Once. At your insistence. You literally wingmaned me.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Shepard grumbles. “The one that got away, and all that.”

“She was not the one that got away,” he says with amusement.

Shepard sniffs. “That’s good, because she was not right for you.”

“Then why…” Kaidan’s eyes widen as realization dawns. “You were jealous.”

“What, of her?”

“Yes. You were jealous.” He chuckles again as the pieces fall into place. “You were in a horrible mood when I came to find you after. Since you wingmaned me I thought you’d want to hear how it went, but you nearly took my head off. I thought you were pissed at Pendergrass for being impossible to take out in public. But you were pissed at me, weren’t you?”

Guilt flashes across his eyes. “No.”

“Sam.”

His brow furrows. “Ok…in retrospect…I was probably jealous.”

“You insisted I buy her a drink!”

“Yeah, because you kept talking about how much you enjoyed her company when she was…researching you.”

Kaidan sighs in exasperation. “She was researching my implant. We were friends. Saw each other a few times and went our separate ways. Well before you and I met, I might add.”

“You were still into her,” Shepard insists. “Come on, I know you.”

“You ass, I was into you,” Kaidan says with a laugh. “I didn’t want to have drinks with her. You’re the one I wanted to spend that evening with.”

A smirk curves his lips. “Yeah, well, I know that now.”

Kaidan shakes his head. “So if I’d come into your quarters that night and kissed you instead of telling you about my so-called date, would that have put you in a better mood?”

Shepard grins. “Why? Did you think about kissing me?”

“When didn’t I,” Kaidan mutters.

“Boy you had it bad for me, didn’t you?” Shepard says, tracing Kaidan’s jaw with a finger.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow, not about to give in to the gesture of affection. “I’m sorry, who shot out the window of a quarantine lab and exposed themselves to a bio engineered virus for no reason?”

Shepard squawks in protest. “What do you mean no reason? You were in that room!”

“And I’d already been exposed,” Kaidan points out.

“So I was just supposed to leave you in there was some deadly virus? I kinda like to think I’d have done that you whether I loved you or not. You think I would have left Garrus in there?”

Kaidan holds up a finger. “No. No, no. If it had been Garrus you would have used that tactical head of yours for at least a nanosecond, realized the damage was already done and taken the extra five minutes to go through the decontamination process. Or at the very least, put your helmet on to avoid exposure. But no, you shot out the glass and came after me because you were in love with me and didn’t stop to think. Or grab a helmet.”

Shepard sputters, then glares. “Ok. You might, might, have a point.”

A slow grin spreads over Kaidan’s face. “And because of it you had to spend all that time with me in quarantine. You literally took care of me when I felt like I was going to die.”

Shepard draws Kaidan back to his chest. “Kinda thought you were going to die. Scared me to death.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. “I won’t lie…I was glad you were there. Even if it was a little humiliating to be that incapacitated around my commanding officer.”

“I’ll take you at your worst over most people at their best,” Shepard says. His fingers return to Kaidan’s hair, and Kaidan leans into the touch with a hum. “Like hell I was going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Kaidan says, and it’s true. As reckless and unnecessary as that stunt had been, the sound of that glass shattering followed by Shepard’s voice in his ear had made him feel…safe.

Shepard clears his throat again, shifting uncomfortably. “Is it, uh, is it weird if I admit that I might have…done this a little, when your fever spiked?”

“Touched my hair?”

“Yeah.”

Kaidan chuckles softly. “Thought I dreamed that.”

“No,” he says after a pause. “I just…I don’t know. This is probably really incriminating, but I always had this urge to run my fingers through your hair.”

Kaidan smirks. “You can admit you just wanted to mess it up.”

Shepard huffs.

“You loved me,” Kaidan says with a shrug. “You may not have known it, but you did.”

Shepard nods. “In retrospect, it was really fucking obvious, wasn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“In my defense, I have literally never been attracted to anyone before. How was I supposed to know that’s what it felt like?”

Kaidan snorts. “So it never occurred to you that being jealous when I went on a date, or unnecessarily exposing yourself to a deadly virus because I was in trouble, and wanting to touch my hair all the time, might mean you were in love with me.”

“Yeah, the porch swing also should have been a clue,” he muses.

Kaidan rearranges himself to meet Shepard’s gaze head on. “You mean back at the orchard? When I feel asleep and drooled on your shoulder?”

Shepard nearly shoves him off the couch. “So you admit it. You’ve been denying that happened for years.”

Kaidan narrows his eyes as something else clicks into place. “Did you touch my hair then, too?”

Shepard blinks. “This is about you, not me.”

“You did.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ok, maybe…very briefly…I might have.”

Kaidan laughs and settles back against him. “I knew it.”

Shepard grumbles, but snakes an arm around him once more. “Well if it was so goddamn obvious why didn’t you just kiss me and get on with it?”

“Because how could I be sure?”

Shepard stares at him. “Boy, kinda hard to believe we saved the galaxy, isn’t it?”

Kaidan grins. “You said it yourself. How good can first timers really be?”

“Not first timers anymore, are we?” Shepard asks, in a soft voice that puts a flutter in Kaidan’s chest.

Kaidan shakes his head.

Shepard’s fingers flirt with his hair once more. “So…you didn’t actually answer my question.”

The flutter dissipates. “I didn’t date anyone, Sam.”

He runs a thumb along Kaidan’s hairline, expression growing solemn. “You know that would have been okay, right? You know…I’d want you to be happy.”

Kaidan catches his hand, heart jumping into his throat and I’ll be fine echoing in his ears. “Sam.”

So that’s what this whole thing’s about. The next Alchera. The next Mars. The next time they inevitably gamble their lives and lose. Kaidan swallows and tries to pull away from him. “This…this is one of the things I don’t want to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says, keeping him close and cupping his cheek. “But you need to hear it. I want you to be happy. Always. Whatever that means.”

“I am happy,” Kaidan argues. “With you.”

“And believe me,” Shepard assures him, “I hope that never changes. But I just…need you to know.”

Kaidan’s hands shake as he slides back into his waiting arms. “Please don’t talk about this.”

“Ok,” Shepard murmurs, wrapping him up tight. Kaidan closes his eyes and breathes him in. Solid. Real. Alive. And his. “How about, instead, we talk about all those midnight meals you fixed over the years?”

“What about them?” Kaidan asks, palm slipping under his shirt in search of a heartbeat.

Shepard’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Started as just ‘hey, there’s a stash of peanut butter and crackers in a drawer if you need a pick me up.’ Next thing you were fixing full entrees in the middle of the night.”

“I was hungry,” Kaidan replies, hiding a small smile.

“Uh huh. You’re telling me the extra plate and fork you always had waiting had nothing to do with hoping I’d show up.”

“Mom always said that if I wanted to impress someone I should learn how to cook.”

Shepard nuzzles his neck before burying his fingers back in Kaidan’s hair. “Mmhmm. So you wanted to impress me, huh? Keep talking.”

Kaidan scoffs. “What, you want to try and tell me that you appearing like clockwork was pure coincidence?”

“You caught me,” Shepard concedes. “I fell in love with the Alenko family risotto recipe.”

Kaidan huffs. Shepard plants kisses up and down his throat, letting his corona flare just long enough to send a current through Kaidan’s nerves.

“Mmmm,” Kaidan murmurs, tilting his head back to give Shepard better access. “Must have been some risotto.”

“Yeah,” Shepard mumbles between kisses. “Except it turns out it definitely wasn’t the risotto I looked forward to all those nights.”

No. It wasn’t. For either of them. Eight years ago when Kaidan had walked into a bar on Arcturus and found Shepard sitting there, it was like something had just snapped into place. For both of them.

“Quarks,” Kaidan says softly.

Shepard pauses. “What?”

“Something Tali told me a long time ago,” Kaidan explains. “That certain types of quarks are tuned to one another on a quantum level, bonded across space and time. The more you pull them apart, the harder they try to snap back together.”

Shepard lifts his head and searches Kaidan’s face. Under Kaidan’s palm, Shepard heart beats strong and steady.

“I didn’t see anyone after Alchera,” Kaidan says. “It never occurred to me. Maybe…deep down I still felt that pull.” He runs a finger along Shepard’s cheek. “Because it turns out you were still out there.”

Shepard swallows, voice catching. “You are such a romantic. You know that?”

Kaidan’s gaze drifts to Shepard’s mouth. “Say it. Please?”

“I love you,” Shepard whispers.

Kaidan brushes a finger across Shepard’s lips. So many times he’d wanted to kiss them and hadn’t. So many times he’d wondered what it would be like and never had the courage to find out. So many chances they’d lost in the debris now buried under the snow on Alchera.

Not tonight. Tonight Kaidan kisses him slow and deep, drinking in every sigh, every soft sound that slips from his throat, reveling in the feel of Shepard’s fingers tangled in his hair. It won’t make up for all the times they’ve missed.

But it’s a start.

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #my fic #i swear it's fluffy #and basically an apology for fugue #see?!?! everything's fine they're all fine #ok #they're MOSTLY fine

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