#and yes he's ridiculous and awkward and not always right and incoherent and all that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarydarrington · 3 years

Text

This is the third time this week.

The Archmage of Civil Influence sits slumped over her pristine, deep red desk with her head in her hands. She can handle Ludinus. The man gives her a long enough leash, so long as she gets the right things done with it. She can even handle Professor Widogast, absurd as his new name might be, tiring as his constant pushing of the line between acceptable lesson plans and light treason might be. No, it’s not him. It’s his friend.

“Hi, Astrid!”

She presses her fingertips into her temples. Twenty-five words feels like more than one might think. Twenty-five and then twenty-five more and twenty-five more and on towards infinity feels like an eternity. Occasionally, for a while after Ikithon’s trial, she had received a friendly hello from Ms. Lavorre. That had been irritating enough. But from what she understands, the tiefling and two others are now at sea dealing with their own issues.

Veth Brenatto, on the other hand, seems to have absolutely nothing else for which to use her spells.

“How ya doing? Just checking in about that little get-together we talked about.”

Talked about is a generously mutual way to put it. There is an event planned for the end of the week at the dance hall she and Bren used to frequent. Brenatto is of the persistent opinion that she ought to attend with Professor Widogast. As his date.

Ridiculous, as she had snapped to Eadwulf last night, because if anything he would be her date - but that is beside the point.

“I know Caleb is waiting to hear a ‘yes,’” the voice in her head continues in its usual overly chipper tone.

Astrid does not believe for a second that “Caleb” is doing anything of the sort. They pass one another in the halls of the Soltryce occasionally, and their interactions are always a coin-flip between professional and very awkward. The only other time they see one another at all is when he’s dragged into her office for going on one of his famous little tangents in class, and he hardly seems interested in her authority, let alone her companionship.

“Good afternoon, Frau Brenatto,” she says smoothly, thankful that the woman can’t see her face. “As I have previously informed you, I would be happy to discuss this with Bren himself. Do have a pleasant day.”

She hopes it sounds sufficiently final, but allows herself a sigh as the halfling’s voice filters back into her mind a moment later.

“Caleb is very shy,” she says. “I think you intimidate him - which is silly, because he’s extremely powerful - but if you could just give me your answer--”

Astrid cups her face in her hands, fingers splayed. Only three more days until the dance has come and gone, and then she won’t have to deal with this anymore. Until the next time, of course. Or until Brenatto comes up with some other pretense to push them at each other.

“As I have said,” she says pointedly, “I would like to be sure that this invitation is coming from Bren. If he wishes to speak-” and he will not- “then we may.”

The next message is almost immediate this time, and Astrid resists the urge to bang her forehead onto the desk.

“Why don’t we go visit him together?” Brenatto asks with renewed enthusiasm. “Have some lunch, talk a little… I can leave you alone, if you two lovebirds are getting--”

Never before has she been so grateful for the limits of a Sending spell. She clears her throat, eyes falling on the stack of paperwork waiting in front of her. There is actual work to be done. Actual important work that does not involve a halfling jabbering in her head all afternoon. And, well, if confronting Bren directly about this nuisance could put an end to it?

“Very well,” she says on a sigh. “When shall we meet?”

Astrid wants to groan out loud at the ecstatic tone of the next message. They plan to meet tomorrow evening. Brenatto is already in town, for some reason Astrid doesn’t bother remembering, and they’ll arrive together at Bren’s little residence on the outskirts of the capital at sunset. Ostensibly, Veth will treat them all to a meal at Bren’s favorite establishment - but Astrid suspects things won’t get that far.

At least she can finish her paperwork, now.

She buries her face in Eadwulf’s shoulder that night and groans, “Why does she never do this with you?”

The following evening, she finds Veth Brenatto on the road outside Bren’s place, waving on her tiptoes with a wide grin splitting her face. Astrid gives her a tight, mirthless smile in return. Better to get this over with.

“I’m so happy that the two of you are getting some proper time to get to know each other again,” Brenatto says as they approach the door together.

Astrid will ignore the suggestive tilt of her eyebrows.

Bren’s place is smaller than those of most of the Academy’s faculty. He is one of the only professors who has chosen to live outside of the city center, opting instead for a little-travelled section of Rexxentrum to the northeast. The house itself is small and nondescript; she would never have picked it out, if she didn’t already know it was here. Astrid wonders sometimes about the secrecy, but she will let him have his privacy. She owes him that much, at least.

She shakes herself from her thoughts just in time to notice Brenatto reaching for the doorknob, but not soon enough to stop her from opening without a single knock. By the time she’s reached out to stop her, the door is already wide open.

And oh, this is rich.

“Caleb! I brought--” And then Veth sees them, too.

The man in question - Caleb or Bren or the physical manifestation of regret, whichever he pleases just now - has just fallen off the couch. Brought tumbling down with him is the drow with whom he’s intimately tangled up, face twisted into such a comical mix of shock and mortification that Astrid actually cracks a smile.

“Ah,” Bren says, pulling a blanket from the sofa to wrap around his partner’s shoulders, “Hallo, ja, come right in.”

The drow, for his part, has already waved a hand and magicked them both some clothing. Brenatto, for hers, has begun sputtering incoherently - which, after the week of endless pestering Astrid has had, sounds about like music. Astrid gives her a smug look, and gestures with one hand towards the two men hastily righting themselves.

“I believe this settles the matter,” she says coolly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

She gives Bren a knowing look, and he gives her a tired nod back. She doesn’t envy him the interrogation he’s about to endure. With a parting glance at the drow, who has retreated toward another room with his real clothing clutched just a bit too tightly in his hands, she turns on her heel and steps back out into the dusk.

That explains the secrecy, then. She hopes he’s good for Bren, whoever he is. He deserves something good.

Just as the teleport whisks her away, she hears Veth Brenatto screech, “Him?!”

#this has been kicking around in my head ever since the week of the finale #very silly but hey #shadowgast #astrid beck #veth brenatto #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #mine #mine:fic #also i feel like i should say: yes i am aware astrid and essek were in the blooming grove together for a While #but astrid was pretty preoccupied so i'm playing with this anyway #astrid #veth #caleb #essek

702 notes · View notes

thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance

Here it is!!!!! First chapter of my first fic on my new AO3! This is a multi-chapter, slow burn work. Please let me know what you think, I welcome screaming and incoherent asks about our fave special agent in my inbox. Full text under the cut, or you can find it through the AO3 link below.

AO3 link

Summary: You're the BAU's newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 1, Coffee Stains and Neckties

Words: 2388

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Warnings: Not much for this chapter specifically, but let’s just assume general gore and murder stuff, explicit language, and sexual content are fair game form here on out.

Enjoy! I’ll try to update weekly, if not more often. I’ll let you know when I have a more defined schedule!

“Fucking SHIT!”

You cursed as you felt the (very, very) hot coffee soak your new skirt. Grabbing as many paper towels as you could with one hand, you tried to sop up the mess on the floor. The stain on your outfit? A shame, but nothing compared to marring the assuredly expensive cream color of the BAU’s breakroom carpet.

A low chuckle sounded off behind you, and you froze.

For the love of god, please don’t be…

“Morgan! Please tell me you have carpet cleaner, oh my god. I don’t even know how that happened.”

Morgan grinned, as he typically did, sauntering into the breakroom with his hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, the janitor's got it later. I was looking for you, team meeting in five. You all good? You look a little - ” he paused, probably searching for a descriptor that wouldn’t sting too bad, “ - rushed.”

You stood up, sighing. He was right, after all. You had stayed up late last night poring over psychology textbooks and only just woken up in time to leave your apartment. As the BAU’s newest profiling intern - whatever the hell that actually meant - the pressure of performing to seasoned profilers’ standards manifested in spending practically all your free time buried in research. Hence why your hair was coated in unbelievable amounts of dry shampoo, you were wearing your unflatteringly oversized glasses instead of your usual contacts, and why your frantic attempt at pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you got into work had resulted in the giant wet spot currently soaking your skirt.

At least the skirt was black.

“You’re right. Late night,” you said, rolling your eyes at Morgan’s suggestive eyebrow waggle.

“Not like that, I wish. Just trying to catch up. Don’t really want to repeat last week’s disaster,” you mumbled, referring to the first time you actually got to question a suspect, which had ended up with a wad of saliva hawked in your face. It was only your third week in the position, but damn, if that hadn’t let the wind out of your sails a bit.

“Hey, what did I tell you then?” Morgan asked, as you walked out of the breakroom together. “You’re not a true profiler until you get assaulted by a serial killer!”

“I’m not a true profiler until I finish the year long training program,” you pointed out, “so I think I could do without the spit in the meantime.”

Morgan laughed, opening the door of the team’s briefing room for you. “Well if we’d known you were gonna be so picky, we might have gone with someone else.”

“Who’s picky?” asked Emily, looking up from her seat.

While Morgan laughed and launched into a dramatic retelling of the event as if the entire team hadn’t already fucking seen it in real time, you took your seat at the table. Reid nodded in acknowledgment, and you returned it with a small smile. Damn if he wasn’t handsome, and ridiculously smart to boot, but you were pretty sure your chances with him withered and died when you asked him what he was doing after work last Friday and he answered with, “Reading.” Point taken.

Hotch swiveled in his chair to face the table and you suddenly became acutely aware of how much of a mess you probably looked. It’s not that you cared about his opinion regarding your general appearance beyond the basic standard of professional attire, but his always-intense gaze and stony expression had a way of making you second guess even your most confidently held opinions.

“Sit,” he said, his voice cutting through the rest of the team’s animated chatter.

It would have been hard not to notice how quickly they obliged, not out of fear, but rather a respect and deference so deeply ingrained that it almost gave you goosebumps. You’d never thought of yourself as a follower, per say, but if Hotch was what a leader looked like, you certainly didn’t fit into that category either.

He scanned the table, stopping on you. “New glasses?” he asked, with a single, slightly raised eyebrow.

“I, um, not really, just didn’t have time to put my contacts in,” you stammered.

“Hm,” Hotch said, “They look nice.”

Your cheeks suddenly felt hot, and you thanked him quickly, looking down at your shoes to conceal the pink that was probably spreading across your face. Hotch had a way of speaking that made everything he said sound like the absolute truth, which was probably why such an innocuous little compliment had disarmed you so much.

Still though, jesus christ. Get it the fuck together. You’re not Reid; you’re not smart enough to be this awkward.

Hotch, blessedly ignoring how painful you just made that interaction, addressed the team while JJ passed out files. “We have a new case. Three bodies, all found completely drained of blood in various woods, off hiking trails. Cause of death appears to be blood loss from severed carotid arteries, meaning they were likely strung up and drained before being moved to where they were discovered.”

Reid spoke up first. “Erm, what exactly do you mean by various woods?”

“That’s the unusual thing,” Hotch said, pulling up a map of the southwestern United States on the screen behind him. "Each body was found in a different state, one here, one here, and one here,” pointing to spots in California, Arizona, and Nevada. “However, local police discovered the bodies within hours of each other due to anonymous tip offs, and medical examiners estimate approximately the same time of death for all three.”

Morgan whistled lowly. “So what you’re saying is, this guy kills three victims around the same time and takes a road trip to hide their bodies in places he knows won't be discovered until he calls in.”

“That’s how it appears, yes,” Hotch confirmed.

Rossi shook his head, twirling a pen that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. “So, how are we splitting this up?”

You whipped your head in his direction. Splitting up? Of course, you should have known it’d only make sense considering the ground to be covered, but your quick mental calculations told you that there were six of them, evenly split into three groups of two, and one odd man out, both in skill and number - you.

“So, who’s getting stuck with me?” you asked, trying to beat everyone to the punch. Not that any of them would voice it, but if you couldn’t project confidence, you figured self-awareness would do.

When you entered the internship as a recent college grad around a month ago, you knew you’d be in way over your head. Everyone else on the team was a seasoned expert, and you were a 20-something with a degree in psychology who somehow managed to charm her way through the interviews of the BAU’s flagship internship program. It’s not that you weren’t smart, you were, of course, but comparatively? You were pretty sure this was shaping up to be a glorified babysitting program, and you were the baby.

“Oh, hush,” JJ said, smiling and shaking her head. You smiled back. JJ had gone out of her way to make you feel welcome, which you were unspeakably grateful for. Between her and Morgan, you sometimes felt like maybe when this year was done, you could actually belong on this team.

Hotch interrupted your pity party. “Rossi, you’re with Reid in Phoenix. JJ and Emily, you’re going to Vegas. Morgan, you and I are going to San Diego.”

He turned to you. “You’re coming with me.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. You knew he had the most to teach you, and you could observe him coordinating the entire investigation from San Diego, but the idea of your performance being directly scrutinized by your boss in such a small group made you more nauseous than excited.

“Please be aware,” he continued, “Garcia is going to have to deal with three times the inquiries as normal. I recommend you only contact her if the information you’re searching for is genuinely too difficult to find yourself.” He gave Morgan a pointed look, to which Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

“We’ll drop teams off as we go,” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

____________

As you settled into your seat on the plane, your mind spun, trying to review every piece of psychology knowledge you’d ever encountered. This wasn’t your first case, but it was the first one you got to travel for, which made it feel much more real.

The hours ticked by as the team reviewed the case. You contributed - not much, and nothing they wouldn’t have thought of without you - but it was something. Narcissist, craves attention and spotlight, physically confident enough to detain and murder three women at the same time. The method was throwing the team for a loop, however. Bleeding the victims out was clinical, relatively painless - uncharacteristic of the sexual injuries found on the corpses and the bravado with which the killer executed the rest of the crime.

When you, Hotch, and Morgan trudged off the plane in San Diego, you had been going at the potential profile for hours and even Morgan’s patience was wearing thin.

“Look, Hotch, let’s hold off on speculation until we see the crime scene in person, alright?”

Hotch nodded, and took that as a cue to head straight to the crime scene. You groaned internally - having barely showered this morning and spent half the day on a plane, your greasy hair and coffee-stained skirt would have greatly benefited from a stop at the hotel to freshen up.

It’s not like you have to look good to go stare at a patch of dirt where a dead body used to to be though, right?

____________

Turns out the aforementioned patch of dirt was actually a wooded grove off a hiking trail leading to a nude beach, much to Morgan’s delight. The site itself was uninteresting except for the way the body had been buried - covered up very securely, implying remorse, another characteristic that didn’t make sense with the initial profile.

This commonality between all three crime scenes was hotly debated on the video conference between the entire team when you got back to the hotel. Cross legged on the bed in Hotch’s hotel room, you listened to Reid and Rossi snipe back and forth on the laptop about what the burial method could mean for ten-plus minutes (“It’s clearly just a functional tool to properly hide the body, Reid.” “But you don’t know that, the significance of burial practices can tell us so much more beyond function, it can even tell us about his religious upbringing…”) before Hotch put a stop to it.

“What do you think?” Hotch asked you, turning and looking directly into your gaze. You were suddenly hyperware of the proximity between you two - sitting close enough on the edge of the bed that your thighs were almost touching. Morgan had abandoned his position on the other side of you to stretch out in the armchair by the window halfway through Rossi and Reid’s debate. Hotch’s eyes boring into yours from only a few feet away and the expectant silence of the other team members on the video call spiked your heart rate, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“I… agree with Dr. Reid. I think it means something. The position of the hands, they were crossed across the chest, right? He didn’t need to do that. I don’t know if it means he was remorseful, but it was on purpose. I think.”

Hotch nodded, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Let's move forward with that theory.” He turned back to the laptop. “Let me know how interviews with the loved ones go tomorrow. Let’s find the connection between the victims. Call me if you need anything.” After shutting the laptop, he turned to you and Morgan. “Let’s call it for tonight. Meet me in the lobby at 7 tomorrow.”

Having been excused, you and Morgan made your way to your hotel rooms next to Hotch’s. Morgan wished you goodnight, and you unlocked your door and practically sprinted into your shower.

After you got out, you looked around the room, towel drying your hair. It was nice, much nicer than anywhere you’d ever stayed. The abstract art on the walls and the modern, clean white lines of the furniture were lit by the soft glow of the sunset filtering through the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony overlooking the ocean. You poured yourself a glass of wine from the minibar (a reimbursable travel expense, right?) and stepped onto the balcony, breathing in the ocean air.

“Nice night, hm?”

You jumped, nearly spilling your drink down your front for the second time in less than 24 hours. Hotch was sitting in a chair on his balcony to the left of yours, reclining with his hands behind his head. Despite wearing nothing but your thin hotel robe, you felt the urge to avert your eyes from him. His suit jacket was shucked, tie undone and hanging around his neck, and the top two buttons of his white, collared shirt were unbuttoned. You felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have, like the cold stoniness of his exterior had shifted just slightly and allowed you a glimpse underneath.

It’s just a couple buttons, calm down. You’re the one who’s barely clothed in front of your fucking boss.

“It is. Shame we can’t go to the beach,” you replied, keeping your eyes forward.

Oh my god, three women were murdered and I just complained to my boss about not being able to go to the beach.

“You’re welcome to get up early and go tomorrow; might be a bit cold,” Hotch replied. You could tell from his voice he was smiling.

You mumbled in affirmation, continuing to avoid glancing in his direction. “Well, I just wanted to see the view, um, I’m gonna get to bed. Goodnight, Agent Hotchner!” You ducked back into your room, and you could have sworn you heard him chuckle before you slid the door shut.

After getting ready, beating yourself up mentally for your complete social incompetence, and tucking in under the plush, white duvet, you drifted off to sleep.

458 notes · View notes

do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 3 years

Note

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

#me 🤝 juxtaposing fancy words with words like stupid and cool and nice because i think it's funny #the muse has been gone for a few days so i hope this is good #screw you muse i'm writing anyway!#peter maximoff x reader #ship request #the ending is weird and the pacing is off but ily so forgive me

22 notes · View notes

noyin · 3 years

Text

Phone Call at 4 A.M.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,010

Ship(s): Phoenix Wright & Miles Edgeworth (platonic)

Summary: Edgeworth wakes from his reoccurring nightmare and in distress, makes a phone call to a certain defense lawyer. (Set after “Turnabout Goodbyes” and “Rise From The Ashes”)

-----

The metal brushed his fingertips

He didn’t think- all he had was fear.

The world was blinking in his eyes.

It felt too heavy. It didn’t fit in his hand.

He pulled his arm back and threw it.

BANG!

A scream. The world turned black.

The scream followed him into the waking world, but came from himself instead as he jolted awake. He sat up, clawing at the sheets, his heart racing, head pounding, lungs breathing a mile a minute, and drenched in cold sweat.

Miles thought he would have been used to those dreams by now. He also thought they wouldn’t follow him anymore, the DL-6 case. Both thoughts were wrong, it was all over, but still tormented him; he woke up every night, haunted, terrified, by the event of fifteen years ago.

Those damned memories.

He was tired. And scared. Of the late, it felt like he was remembering more and more. The haze was starting to dissipate…for better or for worse, Miles didn’t know.

Now, he sat awake in his bed that felt far too cold, his breathing still choppy and unmanageable, his heart refusing to quell. And he did as he always did—his hand shot to his phone that was by his alarm clock—4:16 a.m., it read.

He typed in the number he knew by heart already, his fingers precise despite the shake. He paused before he hit dial, he would usually come to his senses by then and forget about longing for comfort, and go back to sleep.

Of course, he never truly went back to sleep—that was almost impossible—but rested with his eyes closed in a strange limbo between consciousness and dreams, when he thought too much of memories. It was quite possibly worse than simply waiting for the sun to come up.

Miles didn’t want to do either. As childish as it was to say, he wanted a hug, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen.

He didn’t give himself a chance to second-guess when he hit dial.

That was a mistake. Maybe.

…

If he doesn’t pick up, I won’t try a second time.

…

Please, Wright.

…

Click.

“Hello…?”

Miles froze. He… picked up.

“This is… defense lawyer Phoenix Wright from… Wright and Co. Law Offices. I’m not… taking any cases… at the moment… it’s, uh, an inconvenient time for me right now… but-”

“Wright.” And that was all he could bring himself to say. His mouth felt dry, his throat felt tight, his heart- oh, this wasn’t a good idea.

Silence.

“… Miles?”

He tried to swallow. “Wright, I – I…”

“Is everything okay, Edgeworth?”

“I… don’t- I’m alone and I-” He inhaled. “No.”

“...” A pause. “Are you home?”

Shaky exhale. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “I’ll be right there.”

Fifteen minutes.

The first five, Miles laid in his bed, phone in his trembling hand. He had called Wright and now he couldn’t do anything to stop that single-minded man. Had he made a mistake, he wondered.

The next five minutes were spent pacing aimlessly. He made it in the hall before he suddenly collapsed on his knees, sobbing incoherently.

Last five minutes, he found himself standing in the foyer downstairs. It was a mistake. Wright didn’t need to see him in such a vulnerable state of mind. Wright had already done so much for him by handling DL-6.

Miles supposed he didn’t want to feel so alone anymore.

Ding dong!

“Edgeworth? Edgeworth! It’s me, Phoenix!”

Rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Miles opened the door. As expected, in front of him was the defense attorney, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed. His shirt was wrinkled and halfway tucked, his socks two different colors, and his hair sticking up at an awkward direction.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but just seeing Wright made the tension leave his shoulders.

“I was wondering who it could have been at four-thirty in the morning,” Miles said dryly.

Wright smiled. “Sorry.”

“Come in.”

Wright walked in and Miles closed the door behind him. For a moment, both didn’t move. He could feel Wright’s dark eyes studying him, noting every minute detail. Miles couldn’t imagine he was looking his best. He kept his eyes averted, nervous of Wright’s judgment.

“What’s wrong?” Wright asked. His voice was soft. Like cotton. Warmth. “Miles?” A hand gripped his elbow and tugged.

“Hm?” Miles blinked. He hadn’t even realized he wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s wrong?” Wright repeated.

He inhaled. “I woke up from… memories…”

Wright opened his arms in invitation and Miles could do little to resist. He slumped into Wright’s arms, face buried into Wright’s shoulder.

“What happened in your nightmare?” Wright asked. “Was it… DL-6?”

Miles gripped Wright’s shirt. His eyes were blurred by tears.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m… afraid.”

The hug tightened. “Why?”

“The memories… they’re becoming so much more vivid. I thought that… after the case was finally put to rest… I’d… I’d…”

A pause.

“You’d what?”

“… nevermind,” Miles said. He began to pull away, reluctant, but Wright’s unbreakable hug held him close. He slumped back onto Wright’s shoulder, tears freely falling down his cheek. He hadn’t known how much he truly needed this.

There was another bout of silence. Miles didn’t know what to do with himself then. Any semblance of the ever composed man he was mere hours ago was absent. Wright must’ve been disgusted by his gracelessness, Miles thought, to see a man of his stature weep at something so simple as a childhood memory. How ridiculous.

Yet, Wright was there, holding him in a silent embrace, without once making a mockery of his fragility. Wright was there, all because Miles made a foolish phone call at four in the morning.

That had to count for something. Unless he was horribly mistaken, but even in such a case, Miles wouldn’t be bothered by a facade on Wright’s part.

“Wright…”

“Yes?”

“I owe you my thanks,” Miles said.

Miles could feel the smile on Wright’s face. “Anything for you, Edgeworth.”

#lav writes #phoenix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #but like... really platonic with a touch of gay yearning #This is my first fic in this fandom #I'm still experimenting with the characters so I'm sorry if they're ooc #also it's my first time writing after a while so i apologize if the quality is subpar

40 notes · View notes

brandyovereager · 4 years

Text

The Phoenix Effect - pt. 7

This is the longest chapter I have ever posted! The conversations in this chapter were so much fun to write, I hope you have fun reading them ;). Let me know what you think, I love to hear from you guys!!!

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195906/chapters/60178285

Summary: Rowan is in Rifthold with Dorian when a strange phenomenon sweeps the land. Those once dead are popping up alive. Everyday, more and more are Reborn. One day Rowan encounters a Reborn young man who refuses to give his name, only asking to know the whereabouts of Celaena Sardothien.

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius lounged on her throne. Her posture was casual in a way that made her appear superior, but the grin on her face betrayed the childlike joy within her.

Aelin had heard about the reborn phenomenon in Adarlan from Rowan’s reports, and knew all the miraculous details of what was happening. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was for her to hear that reborns were showing up in Terrasen.

The first ones arrived in towns near the border between Terrasen and Adarlan. Within a week there were reborns appearing in Orynth. Luckily, Aelin was a swift and wise leader. She was able to quickly institute a procedure for helping reborns similar to the one in Adarlan.

The whole situation was managing smoothly, her mate would be returning home soon, and just three days ago Aelin found yet another reason to be happy.

It seemed there was no real logic to where the reborns popped up. It didn’t coincide with where they died—or even where they had lived most of their lives—because when Aelin last visited the reborn specialists’ center, she was reunited with a dear friend she thought was lost forever.

Somehow the magical force behind this phenomenon had brought Nehemia Ytger to Orynth, alive and well.

Their reunion was joyous and tearful. Aelin had so much to explain to Nehemia, things she never had the chance to say, but all she could get out were incoherent sobs of delight. Several minutes of heartfelt embrace later, the pair was sat close together and calm enough to delve into their much needed conversation.

The story spilled out of Aelin faster than she could think—along with a stream of pent-up apologies and guilt for what happened to her friend. Aelin had blamed herself for so much after Nehemia died, and all that shame came resurfaced as she sat across from the other young woman.

Nehemia adamantly denied any guilt on Aelin’s part, but made sure Aelin knew that she would be forgiven anyway. After sufficient reassurance and long overdue healing, the two friends jumped right in to all the wonderful updates on Aelin’s life.

The young queen excitedly took her old friend on a tour around her castle and introduced her to her court—most of it, at least. Nehemia and Lysandra hit it off wonderfully, and the three spent many hours together with broad smiles on their faces. It filled Aelin’s heart to see two people she loved get along so well. She couldn’t wait for Nehemia to meet Rowan.

Now, three days after their reunion, Nehemia sat beside her in the throne room while she held her court. The two friends exchanged many secret smiles as various courtiers made their—often ridiculous—remarks.

From outside the throne room, Aelin could hear a commotion begin amongst her guards. The Fae queen sat up straighter in her seat and focused her gaze on the large doors ahead of her. As expected, they soon opened and a servant entered.

“Your Majesty, two new reborns have arrived and wish to speak to you.” That was quite odd. Why would her guard have gotten in a fuss over a couple of reborns?

“Reborns should be sent to the specialists’ center to find help. Why should these two be brought to see me?”

“You know these ones, My Queen, they are your family.” A jumble of feelings rushed through Aelin with the servant’s statement, and the look on his face betrayed his knowledge of her reaction.

“My family? Send them in.” Aelin was tingling and buzzing down to her fingertips. The possibility of her own family being amongst those reborn had always been there, but she hadn’t let herself believe it would happen.

The doors to her throne room opened to reveal a male and female, each with golden hair. The male Aelin recognized immediately, and she leapt from her seat to meet him in an embrace.

“Gavriel.” The golden-haired male held her firmly to him with just as much enthusiasm as Aelin felt herself. She had missed him, and Aedion had too.

Stepping back from the beloved Fae, Aelin turned to look at the female beside him. Her heart jumped for a second before she realized that—despite the many similar features—the woman was not her mother. This was Aedion’s mother. There was no denying it, her face so blatantly Ashryver. It was easy to see why Gavriel had once suspected Aelin to be her child.

“I don’t think we ever met, but I am Aelin Galathynius—Rhoe and Evalin’s daughter—and you are Aedion’s mother.” There was no question in her voice.

“Yes, I am Andelin Ashryver. It is wonderful to finally meet you, Aelin. I loved your mother very much, and I owe her everything. You are her spitting image.” Aelin’s heart both warmed and grew heavy.

“I have been told that a lot,” Aelin smiled lightly, “as I’m sure you have too.” Andelin threw a wry smile back at her.

“The Ashryver genes are strong.” Aelin had to agree.

“Aedion got them as well. He looks very much like you.” Andelin’s face softened at Aelin’s mention of her son. Aelin continued, “You would be proud of him—for many reasons.”

“I am incredibly proud of who he has become, but I’m afraid I can’t take much credit for that.” Aelin recognized clearly the guilt and sadness Andelin felt over her son’s upbringing. “Do you know where he is? I need to speak with him.” Aelin grimaced slightly in response.

“It’s rotten timing but Aedion is actually in Adarlan right now fetching my mate for me.” Aelin reached out to grab the other woman’s arm in reassurance. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, though. I will have a suite prepared for the both of you immediately, right near Aedion’s.” These two were family, she would not have them be anywhere else.

A servant was promptly summoned and sent to ready their suite. Another servant was directed to find Lysandra, who arrived minutes later. Similar to Aelin’s reaction, Lysandra first recognized Gavriel and rushed to meet him in an embrace.

Aelin watched her friend closely as she finally took in the woman next to Gavriel. She could see the shifter piece things together and widen her eyes slightly in realization. Lysandra’s gaze flickered over to Aelin and the queen nodded in affirmation.

“I should introduce you to my dear friend, Lady Lysandra Ashryver. She is Aedion’s wife. Lysandra—you have met Gavriel—and this is Andelin Ashryver, Aedion’s mother.”

————

The journey back to Terrasen was too gods-damned long.

It wasn’t even that Rowan was sick of walking for hours on end, day after day—though that was certainly part of it. Rowan needed to get back to his mate. He had so much he needed to tell her. So much had happened that she would need time to process, and he would have to be by her side anchoring her as she did.

Even more, though—selfish as it may be—he just missed her. He had been separated from his love for too long. He ached with the knowledge that the other half of his immortal soul was not beside him. It was a challenge every night to lay down in a cold bed by himself and fall asleep without holding her. It was wrong. Mates were not meant to be apart.

For the past week he had been walking the long road back to his love, and it was awful. There were far too many miles between them. He wanted to forget about his traveling companions and just fly back to her as fast as his wings allowed. Surely they didn’t need him walking beside them—after all, Aedion had travelled all the way to Adarlan without Rowan. Terrasen’s royal caravan was more than enough enough manpower if they found themselves in trouble.

He couldn’t leave Aedion alone with Sam, though. The young Ashryver had not taken to the reborn assassin very well. Aedion had no great love for anyone from Aelin’s time as Celaena, often choosing to avoid that part of his cousin’s past. During the seven days they’d been on the road together, the male had only spoken to Sam a handful of times—each in a gruff and unfriendly manner.

Rowan supposed that might be for the best. He didn’t put it past Aedion to spill the truth about Aelin in some attempt to torment the boy. Needless to say, the unlikely trio travelled in a state of unending tension.

Rowan managed to keep himself as a buffer between the other two most of the time, but it was exhausting him. The Fae wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the presence of Sam either. The two had spent a fair amount of time together back when Rowan was helping Sam in his search, but ever since the young man’s identity was revealed it was awkward for Rowan to be near him. They had never spoken much—and that was certainly fine with Rowan—but the silent walking left Rowan alone with his thoughts, and he was a little uncomfortable with the thoughts he had when he knew Sam Cortland was beside him.

He was especially uncomfortable when he considered the thoughts Sam might be having himself as they travelled.

Sam knew nothing about what Aelin’s life was now. He had no idea she was the Queen of Terrasen, that she was an immortal Fae, that she was mated and married. The Aelin he had last known was Celaena, and Sam was in love with her.

Yes, those thoughts didn’t sit well with Rowan.

The three travelers and their caravan were currently surrounded by dense forest. Rowan didn’t mind too much—it shielded them from the hot sun—but it did mean they were farther from lodging and refreshment. They hadn’t encountered many others on their journey so far, and they hadn’t seen any intelligent life this entire day.

A bush about three feet to Rowan’s right rustled and the Fae turned to watch as a deer bolted away, startled at the sight of them. His hand relaxed from where he’d reached for his sword, taking notice of Aedion beside him doing the same. They might both be protected members of Terrasen’s court, but the warrior’s instinct to defend never went away. Rowan was sure the guards in their caravan had instructions to ensure Rowan’s—and Aedion’s—safety first, but if an attack did happen, the male doubted he’d be able to run for cover while others endangered themselves to protect him.

He and Aelin had similar opinions on that matter. They were powerful, immortal warriors. As the leaders of Terrasen, it was their responsibility to serve and protect their people, not the other way around.

For the first time that day, Rowan spotted what looked to be human figures ahead of them on the path. There were two of them, with hoods over their heads, unmoving on the side of the road. Beneath the cloak of one figure was a pair of high boots, and beneath that of the other Rowan could see full skirts, indicating the pair was likely a male and female.

As their caravan neared the two travelers, Rowan started to detect more details about their appearance. Their cloaks were high-quality and made from an expensive-looking hunter green cloth, not typical attire for two lone wanderers. Anyone of money or status traveled with a caravan, like he and Aedion were.

The pair turned slightly more towards the large group approaching them and the woman called out at the sight of Terrasen’s flag on their uniforms.

“Terrasen! The royal caravan!” The woman nudged the man beside her to draw his attention to them. “Are members of the royal family with you?”

The caravan’s head—Captain Algaard—stopped their advance and addressed the woman.

“We are of Terrasen, yes, and this caravan is transporting important members of the court.” The guard kept his answer vague so as not to reveal too much to a stranger. “What do you want of them?”

“We must speak to Aelin Galathynius. We need to warn her.” That was concerning.

“What must you warn Her Majesty about, traveler?”

“It may be difficult to believe, but my husband and I should not be alive. Someone has tampered with death, Captain, and we need to tell her.” Aedion approached the captain and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“We are alright, Algaard. Two reborns don’t pose much threat to His Majesty or myself. They are just confused.” Aedion then turned to the traveler woman. “Do you need help, kind woman? Are you in need of provisions?” The couple seemed to notice Aedion for the first time. The woman’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Aedion?” The Ashryver male paused in surprise—an emotion Rowan shared—before walking closer to the couple. Rowan could see the moment Aedion realized who the woman was because something in his face crumbled.

“Evalin?” Evalin. Even if Evalin were a common name—which Rowan didn’t believe it was—a closer look at the woman was all he needed to confirm that she was, in fact, Evalin Ashryver Galathynius. This woman, reborn to a body not much older than Aelin’s, was the near twin of his mate. It stirred something deep within the Fae to look at her.

Aelin’s mother was one of the dead brought back by this strange phenomenon. From the woman’s statement earlier of her husband, the man beside Evalin was likely Aelin’s father. These were his mate’s parents, ones she had grieved for years and missed every day.

Rowan snapped out of his thoughts to find Aedion in a firm embrace with Evalin and Rhoe. They didn’t appear to be speaking, but he had a feeling emotions were being communicated in other ways. These two were important to Aedion as well as Aelin. They had been his guardians during his early years.

Rowan felt a little intrusive watching such an intimate moment, so he turned to address the rest of their caravan. They would be adding a few more to their party, it would seem. Evalin had said she needed to speak to Aelin, and Rowan very much agreed.

“These are Her Majesty’s parents, Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius. We will be bringing them with us. They are members of Terrasen’s royal family and should be included in your protection the same as Prince Aedion and I.” The news was understandably shocking to the guards, but they remained serious and registered Rowan’s statement as the order it was. He continued, “Someone prepare them refreshment.” That was enough to set the group moving about.

When the king turned back to the reunited trio, he found them more composed than before. Aedion met his eyes and Rowan took that as his cue to approach.

“I am honored to meet you, Your Highnesses. I am Rowan Whitethorn—“ Rhoe cut him off before he could continue.

“The Fae warrior. I have heard many stories about you, Rowan Whitethorn. I have to say I have always admired your skill—the stuff of my childhood legends—but we have no want for Maeve’s presence in Terrasen. Thank you for helping Aedion, however you may have, but we should make the rest of our journey alone.” Rowan couldn’t help but smile slightly at Rhoe’s words.

“I can assure you, Rhoe Galathynius, that I no longer have any ties to Maeve. My allegiance lies solely with Terrasen and its queen, both of which I would protect with my life. You can rest knowing my particular skills will only be used for you, not against.” Rowan spoke firmly to hopefully convey how serious he was, and he would have continued had Rhoe not butted in yet again.

“You are blood sworn to Maeve, don’t think I am unaware, you have no choice where your allegiances lie.”

“That oath was broken by Maeve herself. I am now bound to Aelin completely, by ties even stronger than blood.” Rowan had to admit, witnessing Rhoe Galathynius’ face as he explained the situation was quite amusing. “As I was about to say before, I am Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, mate and husband of Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. I will, in fact, be traveling to Terrasen with you. The whole purpose of this caravan is to bring me back to my mate, but we are more than happy to have you join us.”

The wry look Aedion gave Rowan indicated that he had not hid his satisfaction well. How could he blame him, though? It wasn’t every day you got to tell your mate’s resurrected parents that you were soul bound to their daughter.

@rowaelinforeverworld

@flowersinvegas

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen

@camixd93

@lord-douglas-the-third

@montse121296

@dank-queen7

@slytheringalathynius

@rhyswhitethorn

@jesstargaryenqueen

@trilogiesrule

64 notes · View notes

writemywaytoyourheart · 4 years

Text

Onsra- Chapter 1: Late Days and Awkward Encounters

vampire!jungkook x female reader

warnings for this chapter: pure awkwardness

If you haven’t read the prologue, do that first!! PROLOGUE

word count: 1.5k

Onsra Masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months earlier…(before the prologue)

“Y/N! Get out of bed right now! You are not leaving me to endure mathematics by myself today!” Your best friend yanks the covers off your head in an unforgiving manner, throwing them to the floor and pouncing on top of you. You shriek when her skinny fingers dig into your sides and start tickling mercilessly.

“Get off! I’m up, I’m up! Stop it!”

Ga-In laughs and rolls away from you, squealing when you shove her off the bed. She hits the floor with a loud thunk and pouts when you smirk at her while looking off the edge of your bed. “I told you to stop, don’t give me that look.” You stick your tongue out at her and she chuckles, lifting herself off the ground and pretending to smack you, “get up, lazy butt. We’re already going to have to run to catch the bus.” You sigh and force yourself to stand up, despite your sore muscles screaming at you to get back in bed.

A quick look in the closet shows that you’re going to need to do laundry, but you make the best of it for the moment by grabbing the cleanest looking pair of jeans off the floor and spritzing them with perfume.

You pull them on and scavenge the room for a decent shirt.

Because frick doing the wash.

Ga-In is huffing and puffing next to you while the two of you practically sprint for the bus stop. Her asthma is probably kicking in, but your guessing her panting is also partly out of the rage she has for a certain someone making you both late again today.

You start to laugh at the ridiculous situation while you truck along, backpacks flopping wildly and Ga-In clutching her skirt for dear life against the wind. People stare at the pair of you as you streak past them, apologizing if you knock into anyone. You’re starting to choke because you can’t breathe and run and laugh all at the same time, and Ga-In hears your giggles.

“Shut the heck up, y/n. I could literally kill you right now if I wasn’t so focused on not dying."

That sends you into another fit of hysteria and you trip on a crack in the sidewalk, slamming to the ground with enough force to make pain go shooting through your wrist. Ga-In almost trips herself when she stops abruptly to see if you’re okay. She bends down and shakes her head when she sees you laughing and crying at the same time, "are you okay? Clumsy. Here, give me your hand.” You reach out and take her outstretched hand, letting her pull you to your feet.

You can’t decide if crying or laughing is the better way to go, so you just stick with alternating between both. The fall was painful, especially on your wrist, but the whole situation and the way you must’ve looked when you tripped makes you unable to stop laughing at yourself.

You look around, up, down and anywhere but your best friend while you try to blink the tears away and swallow the remaining painful giggles. Ga-In chuckles next to you, shaking her head, “really, y/n? A tiny crack in the sidewalk?” You glare at her as you wipe your eyes and shoulder your bag back into position.

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you, Ga-In. After you.” You sweep your arms out in front of you dramatically to tell her to keep walking. Ga-In bows and proceeds to skip ahead, “you know I love you, stinker.”

“Well, I hate you so.”

“y/n! Shut up and hurry.”

“I’m coming, geez.”

Needless to say; you miss the bus. It’s only a minute until your math class starts and your professor is always strict about students being tardy, so you run with all the strength left in you as you two dodge around people crowding the college campus. You’re only a few paces behind Ga-In, who’s reached the door, curse her long legs, and is holding it open for you; when you run right smack into someone who was crossing your path.

Your momentum and how hard you hit them sends your body flying backwards and crashing to the ground. You barely register that the boy who accidently cut your b-line to the door hasn’t even fallen and he’s apologizing quietly, before you leap to your feet and dart past him; not sparing him a single glance but gracing him with a quick ‘I’m so sorry!’ as you sprint for the open door.

You don’t dare stay behind and risk the wrath of Mr. Sung today.

The young man looks after you and bites back a shy smile, shoving his friends off him when they start to tease, “ohhh, someone’s got a crush.” He groans and pushes the other boy away from him, “get off. We’re late for class.”

Your eyes scan the cafeteria when you walk in; girls and guys alike either walk aimlessly picking a random table, or shoulder past people to sit with their groups. Ga-In waves at you from across the room and you smile and wave back, pointing at the lunch line and mouthing 'I need food’.

She nods and sends you a thumbs up; assuring you she’s got a seat saved. You scoot into the line and grab a tray, scanning the options to pick from quickly before your stomach implodes with hunger, when you overhear a girl whisper to her friend next to you.

“Did you hear about it?”

“About what?” Her friend whispers a little louder and the first girl shushes her before continuing, “-the police found a body yesterday. Someone was murdered.” Your eyes widen a tad, but you smile at the lady behind the counter and point to a sandwich, “that one please.” You keep pretending like you aren’t listening in on the girls’ conversation.

No. You’re not listening in. You just happened to hear a little something. A little something about a body. A supposed murder. Wait, what else was she saying now?

Against your better judgement; you lean a little closer to them and almost choke on your own breath when they suddenly walk away, whispering and sharing secrets without including you, who obviously just wanted to know a little info. What harm could that bring?

What really startled you though, was how abruptly they get out of line, which sends you stumbling a little. You accidently step on the foot of the person that was behind them and apologize profusely, “oh gosh, I’m sorry. I- I’m a little out of it today.” You haven’t met his eyes.

Yes, it’s a he and you can tell from his black combat boots. Which is actually why you’re so nervous.

You know those boots.

The same boy that you ran into before math today.

He most likely hates you now for running away so quick after that incident. He must think you’re so rude, but you didn’t see him fall so you thought he was fine!

You just stare at the lace on his boots, noticing that he tied them on the second to last line of lace holes. That’s kind of annoying, but whatever.

It’s silent for a minute so you start to turn to walk away before he mentions anything from earlier, but then you hear his quiet and low voice mumble almost incoherently, “uh no, no it’s okay.” You smile and bow, but still refuse to look at his face, because if he’s cute then you’ll just have to chuck yourself out the window. You can see he bows as well as you turn to scurry to safety.

Shaking your head in disbelief at your rotten luck today, you swerve around the other students and head straight for Ga-In, who’s eating silently in the corner. As you pass a table of boys you hear one speak lowly to his friend, “dude, did you see the news?” That sparks your interest and you try to slow down subtly, listening intently to what they’re talking about. Maybe you’ll get a little more detail than those girls cared to give. The second boy appears to shake his head and the first scoots closer holding his phone out to show him a picture.

“They found a body yesterday and the police think the killer is going to strike again.” His friend just laughs and shakes his head, “how can they know that?” Boy number one scoffs and taps away on his phone.

“You seriously need to pay better attention to the news, dude. There have been four murders in the past week before this one, and it’s all the same guy.”

“Oh yeah? How do they know that for sure?"

You’re probably looking like a creeper right now because you’ve come to a full stop behind them, clutching your tray and trying to get a glimpse of the picture on his phone.

"Because they were all done the same way and all of them were in Seoul, idiot. It’s definitely a serial killer."

Your breath catches in your throat at his next words, ”-the police found the same marks on every body they found. Two puncture wounds on them, nothing else. The report says it seems like they bled to death…but, there wasn’t much blood at the crime scene.“

Well….that’s absolutely horrifying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I hope you guys like this one, dw it’ll start getting good soon ;) thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)

191 notes · View notes

anasticklefics · 4 years

Text

Tickle Cheating

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy

Summary: Jim tickles Bones. It’s what he DOES. So how does one react when you see someone else tickle your usual victim? Like a mess if you’re Jim Kirk apparently!

A/N: I blame @fickle-tiction (are you HAPPY?). Also I don’t know how hospitals work don’t yell at me. Might rewrite this idea with lee!Jim because he has my heart.

Also does this whole fic and my author’s note have a general chaotic air about it or am I going crazy haha?

Words: 3 124

The first time Jim noticed it was when he dropped by the hospital to deliver Bones’ lunch that he’d left at the kitchen counter of their shared dorm room. Entering a space that was oddly both chaotic and completely still at the same time, the general air so suffocating that it was no wonder Bones was exhausted each time he returned from a shift. Jim grinned at the receptionist, unsure of where the med students where and if he was even allowed past a certain point and if so, “would you or someone give this to Leonard McCoy?”

But the woman, hair framing her heart shaped, incredibly kind face, met his grin with a smile and told him he could go right in.

“If someone stops you or you can’t find him, simply ask if someone can leave the box in the kitchen.”

Her words sounded scripted in a way that told him this probably happened more often than not, and he thanked her and left. Up three stories with the elevator to the floor she’d directed him toward, footsteps echoing around the empty corridors, until he eventually found a more chaotic environment in the form of the emergency room.

How many times had he been here just that semester?

“Kirk!” someone Jim recognized from the Academy called out, glancing up from a clipboard. “What have you done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s been months since… whatever. Do you know where Bones is? McCoy. Whatever you call him.”

“I tend to call him Leo.”

“That’s weird. Do you know where he is? He left his lunch.”

The guy, unnamed for now and the rest of eternity, pointed his thumb in the direction of yet another corridor. “Third door to the right.”

“Should I just go in?”

“They don’t have any patients in there right now.”

So Jim went, wondering if he was breaking any rules but feeling extremely ready to get out of there.

He saw it then. The small room - do they perform surgeries in there? - with a bed and a table and four windows and five people, all on top of each other with Bones in the middle. All talking, simultaneously grave and cracking jokes. Familiar, whether they wanted to or not. A job where you couldn’t be timid of bodily contact; eating and sleeping almost in each other’s laps. Jim looked at Bones, saw how easily he moved with elbows in his guts and people breathing down his neck.

He also saw his face light up when he caught sight of Jim.

“I brought your lunch,” he said meekly, holding it up, and if Bones was the type to profess his undying love for his friends, Jim was sure he would be going down on one knee right now.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he said later, having entered their dorm as Jim had been nearly falling asleep over his homework. “You bringing me food literally saved my day and I will grant you one wish as a reward.”

And Jim, exhausted, lonely and closer to the verge of tears than he would’ve liked, demanded cuddles.

In their years of living together Jim had never asked for cuddles. He always wanted to, but whatever physical affection he had a tendency to hand out to his friends like a way too common gift, he always stopped before they could get mad, and therefore always stopped before he felt satisfied.

“I just want a good fucking cuddle,” he was saying now, his tone too desperate for it to sound like a joke. Bones, bless him, didn’t comment on it.

“Let me take a shower and change,” he only said. “Trust me, you don’t want whatever my clothes have.”

Jim nodded, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, so he ducked his head back down, eyes on his books. Listening to every sound Bones was making, thinking he was being both too quick and too slow, and when he finally returned Jim was fully aware of it, but pretending to be too engrossed in his work to notice.

“You wanna cuddle now or later?” Bones asked, so casual about it that Jim knew he’d never manage to get a single thing done for the rest of the night.

“Now,” he said, standing abruptly enough to nearly knock his chair down.

Bones grabbed it, his face a mix of amusement and concern. “Right then. The couch? Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Want to pick the movie?”

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Jim tried to shake the sudden awkwardness out of his limbs as he followed his friend into the living room area of their tiny dorm, realizing this was probably a bad idea. They hadn’t even touched yet and he was acting like a total fool.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, causing Bones to stop in his tracks. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I’m over it. I was just tired. We really don’t have to.”

“Jim.” Reaching out to grab Jim’s arms, Bones gave his flesh a squeeze. “Breathe. It’s fine that you asked for it and we don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind, but if I really didn’t want to myself I would’ve said so.”

Jim deflated. “Promise?”

“Jesus, you must be exhausted. Yes, promise.”

“It’s just that-” Jim wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain when Bones hadn’t asked for an explanation in the first place. “-I saw you at the hospital and you seemed so okay with being physically close to people and I feel like I might die if nobody holds me for, like, half an hour-”

“Jim.”

“-and I know it’s part of your job so I don’t want to overstep-”

“Please shut up for a sec.”

Jim did, but only because Bones had said please.

“I don’t necessarily enjoy having my personal space so violated,” he continued. “But of course I don’t mind you doing it. You’re my-”

“I know,” Jim said when Bones trailed off. They had no words to describe what they were. “So I shouldn’t be jealous?”

“Absolutely not, but mostly because you act like an idiot when you want something you think you can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like a petulant child.”

“Oho, is that so?”

Bones ruffled his hair. “Go back to being timid. It was cuter.”

So maybe Jim didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the movie and fell asleep in Bones’ arms ten minutes later, Bones’ fingers squeezing at various places on his body to get him to “relax for fuck’s sake”. Maybe he couldn’t picture himself falling asleep in an empty bed again for weeks. Maybe Bones was really fucking good at cuddling.

Waking up sweaty with Bones’ knee pressed to the small of his back later was a whole other thing. “Hhng. Get off.”

“You’re nearly on top of me.”

“Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

“You snore like a goddamn-”

Jim somehow managed to roll over and press his face into Bones’ neck. “Shh. Too loud.”

A spasm went through Bones’ body, convincing Jim he was trying to throw him off the couch and making him resort to clinging onto his torso for dear life. “N-no.”

“What was that?”

Bones was, miraculously, laughing.

Jim tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his face, but he only succeeded in pressing the top of his head beneath Bones’ chin. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

Bones said something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep and higher in pitch with laughter. His hands were clawing at Jim’s back, unable to get a good grip of his shirt and therefore only managing to lightly tickle him, which was kinda nice actually.

Wait.

“Oh, this is tickling you,” Jim said, laughing into Bones’ skin as if this was a group activity. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” came the strangled denial.

“Hmm, I think you are. Otherwise this wouldn’t bother you.” He spidered his fingers up Bones’ side, noticing the squirming getting a notch more desperate the closer he came to his friend’s ribs. He paused just beneath them. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t react to this I’ll believe you’re not ticklish. Okay?”

“Jim, you fucking-”

Jim jabbed him in the ribs and nearly lost his hearing from the shriek that left Bones’ mouth.

“Ah, so you’re ridiculously ticklish, then?”

Bones cursed and managed to slip his arm out from beneath him, placing it against Jim’s chest, but not pushing him off.

“And you don’t mind this? I see.”

“I’m gonna kill you, James Tiberius-”

“Don’t you middle name me, Leo.”

Years passed. They graduated. Jim somehow became a captain and got a ship. Bones for some reason decided to work on said ship, bestowing Jim with his constantly shifting moods for the next five years. Not that he complained. Was literally doing the exact opposite. And, all the while their lives changed and kept changing, Jim kept tickling him nearly daily.

“Don’t fucking tickle me in front of others,” had been Bones’ one demand disguised as a request.

So Jim didn’t, but kept it behind closed doors as they always had. The image of Bones being physically close to others always prompting him to demand cuddles, now that he wasn’t ashamed of this dire need anymore. And, more often than not, he would slip his hands beneath Bones’ shirt and make him laugh uncontrollably for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how it had become a part of their routine, but he felt that if he didn’t get these intimate yet playful moments as often as he could he would shrivel up and die.

“You’re a drama queen,” Bones had said more than once when Jim had complained about them not having gotten any alone time.

“You literally beg me to stop when I’m barely even touching you,” Jim countered each time. “Don’t call me a drama queen when you’re just as bad.”

Bones would only wave a hand at him, having gotten out of the habit of blushing over his sensitivity years ago.

Something else that had become more common than they probably realized was how often Jim brought him food into medbay. Sometimes it was breakfast, snacks, his forgotten lunch or dinner. Other times it was just a drink, just as an excuse to stop by. Sometimes he came empty handed.

That day Bones truly had forgotten to eat, his empty seat painfully loud in the cafeteria. Jim knew his habits more than anyone and knew he wouldn’t eat unless food was visibly presented before him, and so he filled a tupperware with everything he knew Bones liked and skipped through the corridors, suddenly feeling like he was back at the Academy again.

Bones wasn’t alone, but he rarely was. The crowded hospital rooms had been replaced with him and Chapel dancing around each other, sometimes with more than one crew member present; arms and legs and chests and heads laid out for Bones’ magical fingers to heal, or so they hoped. Jim had lied there more times than he could count, so he was highly familiar with the nooks of this part of the ship.

Bones was standing on a stool, which made Jim stop in his tracks before he announced his presence, greeting dying on his lips and being replaced with a grin. Whatever Bones was trying to reach, it seemed to be just out of reach and he was grumbling as he kept stretching.

“Do you need a hand there?” Chapel asked, her tone playful while Bones let out an unprofessional curse.

“Can I borrow some heels?” he muttered, and she laughed, all familiarity due to working together in such close proximity for years. It wasn’t elbows in guts or naps in laps, but Jim recognized it from his crew on the Bridge. It was impossible to not grow close.

“It might help if I make you jump,” she continued.

“How the hell will you do that?”

Jim was almost proud of the fact that he didn’t let out any sound as he watched her reach out and poke at Bones’ ribs, just at the spot that could make him scream with laughter. It was a coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, how the hell could she know.

Bones didn’t squeal, but he didn’t pretend as if nothing was happening as he had learnt to do back in school, partly because back then people never meant to tickle you if they tried to get past you quickly and had to grab your waist. Chapel did indeed mean to make him squirm.

Jim watched his arms shoot down, swatting at her with a laugh so relaxed this really truly couldn’t have been the first time she tickled him. It really truly couldn’t.

Other people tickled Bones. Bones let other people tickle him.

He started backing away, lunch box forgotten when he literally bumped into Uhura who was coming from the opposite direction. The tupperware flew out of his hands as he let out a gasp in surprise, the food littering the floor only a second later. Things were a bit chaotic after that, but maybe because everything was overpowered by his frantically beating heart, that really had no business freaking out but there they were.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Uhura say over his own incoherent babbling, the two of them crouching down to clean up the mess while Chapel and Bones kept repeating that “it’s fine, we have a broom, please get off the floor” that Uhura eventually listened to while Jim had to be pulled upright by Bones who was laughing, only to start frowning when he realized just how truly stressed out Jim was by the whole situation.

It wasn’t even about the food, but.

“I’ll go get you some more before they close the cafeteria,” he said, heart in his throat, threatening to spill out among the food on the ground, and who knew what that treacherous heart would reveal. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, leaving them be and rushing to the first restroom he could find, finally allowing himself to calm the fuck down and breathe.

What a stupid thing to get upset by, but.

He heard someone enter the room, causing him to press his body against the stall like a coward, but Bones’ voice rang clear anyway. “Jim?”

He didn’t reply.

“Come on, I know you’re in here.”

“I’m peeing.”

“Right, well, I’ll wait until you’ve finished.”

“Okay, I’m not peeing.”

“I know.” A beat, and, “Come out. Please.”

It was always the please that got him.

“Before you ask,” Jim said, exiting the stall. “I was gonna go get your food just after this stop.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about the food. I mean I do, and it was really nice that you brought me some, but it’s a slow day and I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see what was up with you.”

“With me?”

“You seem… I don’t know. Freaked out? Like something is wrong?”

“I see.”

“Jim.”

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, looked anywhere but on Bones. “I don’t know. The whole situation sort of shook me and now I feel weird.”

“You spilling the food?”

“No. Jesus, no. Just-” He waved his hand in Bones’ general direction. “You being tickled by someone else. It was weird being an onlooker.”

“You’re acting like a disaster because of that?”

“Look, you know I’ve acted worse about tamer things.”

“You’re so stupid.”

Jim snorted, finally meeting his friend’s eye. “I’d love to have this conversation-”

“Stop lying.”

“-but I have to head back. Got a ship to run and all.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bringing this up tonight.”

Jim patted his shoulder as he passed. “I’m counting on it.”

It didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it, however.

“Ugh, just get it over with,” he groaned when Bones entered his quarters, looking rather alert, pointing to a calm rest of the day.

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Bones deadpanned. “We’re gonna talk about my sensitive spots, after all.”

“I love your sensitive spots.”

“Focus.”

“I just thought it was something only I did to you, that’s all.”

“You got jealous?”

“Maybe a little?”

Bones relented. “You’re being-”

“Ridiculous, I know.”

“And kind of endearing, but I’ll only say that once.”

“You say many things once. Doesn’t mean I’ll forget them.”

“Oho, you’re kind of asking for it yourself, you know.”

Jim threw up his hands. “Tickle me, then. This whole day’s weird and backwards anyway.”

“You know I would never take your job.”

“Chapel did.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’ve never tickled anyone else before.”

Jim huffed, crossing his arms. “I never said my reaction was logical.”

“You gonna tickle me or not?”

“Are you asking me to?”

Bones did flush then, so rare nowadays. So wonderful. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Jim barked out a laugh, already approaching him. “Stay still.”

“You know damn well I won’t.”

“I do, but it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“You sadist- wahait!”

Jim cornered him and pushed him down onto the couch, fingers already working over his hips, a spot he was certain no one else knew of. A spot that could make Bones scream so loud Jim had to stop out of fear of accidentally killing him.

Usually he was gentle, starting slow to make him giggle, but Bones had technically tickle cheated on him and that just wouldn’t do. Pinning him beneath his thighs, Jim dug into the sensitive spots, Bones’ clothes doing nothing to help him whatsoever.

Oh, how he laughed. Not a quick little inconvenienced laugh as he squirmed away, but a proper, desperate belly laugh. This was theirs and only theirs. Jim the only one Bones trusted to know this intimately. He was grabbing at Jim’s wrists now, but despite his strength he wasn’t pushing Jim away. Merely steadying himself.

Whatever they were and whatever they had, it always had and always would include this.

“I should tie you up and torture you,” Jim teased, even though he’d never immobilized him during this and only tickled him for a couple of minutes at a time, but Bones had once become a stuttering mess when Jim had threatened this and he did love a flustered Bones, after all.

He was laughing too hard to stutter, but the way he was shaking his head told Jim all he needed to know. His words had left a mark and whatever he did now, wherever he touched, would be more ticklish than usual.

He got to work.

#tickling #ticklish!bones #ticklish!mccoy #mckirk fic #mckirk #star trek fic #star trek #mine #tickle cheating #ana's fics #tickle fic

73 notes · View notes

apparentlynotreallyfinnish · 4 years

Text

I’m still trying to get back to some kind of normalcy after my US trip and I’ve been jotting down some of my observations and little tidbits about the trip (a lot about the food, some about general stuff and meeting Mick and V). This is more for me to remember and look back on, I don’t really expect any of y’all to be that interested. So I’ll put it under a read more.

I’ve never been on a plane that big (with three rows of seats, 3-4-3) and surprisingly, the flights (3h and 11h on my way there, 8h and 2,5h when coming back home) went really well! I will definitely visit the US again now that I know I can do it. (In case you didn’t know, I have always had a horrible fear of flying.)

I stayed at an Airbnb for the first two nights, which turned out to be an excellent idea since I caught a stomach bug from my friend’s baby before the flight and spent the first night in the states sleeping on the bathroom floor and being extremely ill.

The Airbnb host was lovely.

Simply Lemonade’s Raspberry Lemonade is my favorite drink ever and I’m so very sad they don’t sell it in Finland. Also, apparently, I like Dr. Pepper.

Floridian strawberries are cheap and tasty (but not as good as Finnish strawberries).

Milk Duds are nothing like I imagined. They were okay though.

I love Sour Patch Kids.

I’ll probably never again eat at Taco Bell, even if I get a chance. (Also, Mexican food, in general, is gonna be on hiatus for a while…) I had a Crunchwrap and it was okay when it went down but pure murder when it came back up the following night.

The Cheesecake Factory was ridiculous. The portion sizes were monstrous and the cheesecake was a bit too much. Also, the eye of Sauron pillars were a strange decor choice.

Portion sizes in other places weren’t as big as I’d expected. But the drinks… Good God. No wonder there’s so much diabetes in America.

Bojangles was my favorite fast food place and I’m still dreaming about Cajun Filet Biscuit.

All chicken foods I ate were great.

Seeing the calory counts so prominently displayed on menus and commercials was very disconcerting and gave me so much anxiety.

Why does everything have to come in a huge bag/bottle/package?! I would’ve wanted to try out all kinds of stuff but I’m not gonna buy a 15-pack of drinks to drink one (or a 1 pound bag of candy etc.).

I expected the food to be cheaper.

I felt weird about someone packing my groceries for me.

I felt weird about waiters and cashiers being so cheery. It freaked me out and always made me mumble something incoherent in response.

My depit/credit combination card was apparently very strange to many cashiers. Don’t you guys have those?

There are SO MANY trucks. And they are intimidatingly big.

I only saw one oversized load which was a tad disappointing but still good. (This will not be understood by anyone else except Mick.)

Road signs were massive.

I’d never seen a skyscraper before so that was cool.

The houses are massive and very American.

So many cars….

The Georgia Aquarium was a heaven on earth and I sat in front of the big tank for 30 minutes and actually cried because I was so overwhelmed and affected. (Yes, I have a weird obsession with aquariums and ocean creatures.) I wanna go back and sit there a whole day.

Also, I saw puffins and it was everything I hoped it would be. (I obviously bought a puffin plushie for myself. It now sits under my lighthouse print.)

Also, a middle-aged guy accidentally titty-punched me (at the Aquarium) and I’m not sure which of us was more embarrassed.

It was about 22C/72F on one day and we sat out on the porch and wrote. It was lovely. When I came back home a few days later we had -7C/14F and it was snowing.

I could move into 2nd and Charles (I LOVE used book stores). It was literally heaven for me and I made Mick and her whole family annoyed at me by staying there way too long.

@mythicalpurgatory is the sweetest person on Earth and gave me the prettiest earrings as a gift. I miss her hugs and I am so sad we forgot to take a pic together.

@sass-and-panache was exactly as I’d imagined her to be. She really is a force to be reckoned with. She’s amazing. The best mom and an all-around awesome person. Meeting her in real life was almost anticlimactic because it all felt so familiar (but only almost, it was actually freaking awesome).

I was very awkward and embarrassed about my accent.

I’ll probably miss Mick’s son more than Mick but only because he snuggled with me. (Also, he’s like super smart and cute as heck.) (This is only like 50% a joke.)

When Mick drove me to the airport we listened to Rhett and Link sing Silver Wings and it was very fitting and slightly hilarious.

On the flight back home, the plane flew over Newfoundland and I’m like 95% sure it also flew over the exact spot I’d decided LMBYL’s lighthouse island is. I was VERY excited.

I almost missed my second flight back home in Paris (because the airport is massive, the staff was unhelpful and I didn’t have enough time between flights). It was very stressful. I almost cried at the security check and the staff member checking my bag was super rude. They called my name on the loudspeaker (last call) and I was on the plane right as they were closing the gate.

Jet lag was not a problem while I was in the States. Now though… My body has no idea what time it is.

It was a great trip and I’m so glad I did it. That I could do it. That my anxiety didn’t stop me. If you’d told me a year ago that I was doing this I would have laughed and called you crazy. I’ve always dreamed of visiting the US but I was certain I would never do it. Actually going was a huge personal victory.

I will be forever grateful for Rhett and Link because they are the reason I met Mick and did this trip.

#Appa's rambles #Appa's trip to the States #aftermath

32 notes · View notes

mari-onberry · 4 years

Text

Opening Up

read on ao3

for @helpimbecominganerd for the TodoBakuDeku Winter Exchange! Thanks for the great prompt I always love an excuse to write a coffee shop AU.

***

Shouto woke up freezing. As his dream was quickly slipping from his mind, he found that most of the covers were on the floor. He rolled out of bed, tired from restless sleep, and got ready for work as best as possible while avoiding his family. To add insult to injury, he still had a shift at his father's coffee shop. He dreaded every day his father made him come into work, saying it would give him character and discipline. The only thing it really gave him was more contempt for his father.

He drove the short distance from home to the coffee shop, idly humming an indistinct melody along the way, trying his best to not fret about the long shift he was going to have. It only marginally worked, since the second he saw his dad through the window, his mood plummeted. He kept his head down as he entered the building, ready to get this over with, put on his uniform, and stationed himself at the cash register. Then, as he scanned the room while trying his best to tune out his dad's lectures, his eyes caught a certain familiar face.

Every weekend morning for the past few weeks, a blonde boy around his age sat in the same place, and it was starting to become the reason Shouto made it through the week. He looked around, and saw that the rest of the shop was fairly empty, so he had a few minutes until he would have to tend to a customer. Shouto walked over to where the blonde was sitting.

"How are you enjoying your coffee?" He asked, and although it was odd for him to check on customers in such a manner, he hoped it wouldn't seem like he was intruding.

Soon, it was apparent the blonde saw it that way. "It's fine?" He seemed angrier than the situation called for, but Shouto credited that to his disposition.

"Good, I'm glad. You can call me over if you need any help." He smiled as wide as he could for that early in the morning, then bailed. He wanted to start up some sort of conversation, but that wasn't exactly his strong suit. He made his way back to the counter, where a customer looked rather annoyed waiting in line.

Shouto assumed he had failed until the blonde walked up to the counter a few minutes later. "See you next weekend," he said, and handed him a napkin with almost incoherent scribbles written on one side, and then walked away and out the door.

Heart pounding, Shouto turned the napkin over to read it, and whispered an excited 'yes!' to himself when he saw what was on it-- his number and name.

He immediately put it in his phone as quick as he could before his dad could notice.

***

Shouto didn't want to seem desperate, even if that word actually did describe him well. He kept typing up drafts of texts to send the blonde, who he had found out was named Bakugou, but none of them sounded right. For a moment, he wanted to just call him, since the humiliation would be over within a matter of seconds, rather than the possible hours waiting for a text back could take. He decided against that almost immediately, though, since he had a tendency to freeze up when talking on the phone, and he knew those odds would be even higher talking to Bakugou. So, he wrote out another text.

Hello, thanks for giving me your number! I've been mildly obsessed with you for the past few weeks and I spend an embarrassing amount of my time at work day staring at you.

It was all truthful, but he would probably never show his face in public again if he actually sent something like that.

He deleted all of it and opted to type in a simple, hey. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do without giving himself a heart attack. He hit send before he could back out, then threw his phone to the other side of the bed, not wanting to worry about when Bakugou would answer back. This didn't last long, though, because his phone buzzed, signifying a notification, within a matter of a few seconds. Shouto leapt at his phone and saw the reply.

Hey, is there a name better than 'Half-and-Half', to put you under in my phone?

Oh. Shouto realized he hadn't really ever introduced himself. He answered immediately with his name and how to spell it, but soon after that the conversation went stale. He set his phone down, a little disappointed that the conversation hadn't lasted that long. A few minutes later, though, his phone buzzed again.

Shouto? Not Todoroki?

He frowned. What kind of question was that? And how did he know his last name?

After not getting an answer, he texted again. The owner of that cafe is your dad, right? Enji Todoroki?

He didn't really want to talk about his dad. That was probably the worst subject to bring up with him, but he knew there was no way Bakugou knew that. He took a while to text back, and again he got another text before he could answer.

If he's really enough of a dick to renounce his name, I really regret visiting his cafe every week.

Kirishima sat next to Bakugou, trying his best to pull the phone away.

"Katsuki, what are you even talking about? You shouldn’t ask such personal questions right away."

"Shut up, shitty hair. I know what I'm doing." He didn't. Luckily, neither did Shouto.

You're right, he is a dick. But he pays me, and I don't know if I could make it through the work week without getting to see you.

Was he coming on too strong? Shouto wondered to himself, and although he was convinced he was, he didn't care. He was resolute to just say what was on his mind, especially if it was a guarantee he would mess up regardless.

"Woah," Kirishima said in awe. How had this completely inappropriate text conversation turned out in Katsuki's favor? Kirishima wanted to know his secret.

Katsuki typed out another message. Well, I'll make sure to tip you well next time, then.

The two of them flawlessly stumbled through awkward flirtatious texts, and despite Kirishima's attempts to help, Katsuki had somehow steered the conversation into asking for a date. Are you free this weekend?

Shouto would've leapt for joy if he didn't rush to get out the next text. I get off work at 11.

So, there it was. Despite everything, they had made a date. Both of them were wildly inexperienced, but they independently resolved to figure this dating thing out together.

See you then. Bakugou typed out, and Kirishima was proud he hadn't included any strange nicknames or insults. "What are you staring at, Shitty Hair?"

Kirishima sighed. He was acting like his same old angry self, and Kirishima wondered how this Shouto kid would ever be able to deal with Bakugou's strong personality once he learned the truth. "Nothing. Just promise me you won't break his heart."

Bakugou frowned at his best friend, but answered quietly, hesitating. "Why would I ever do that, asshole?"

Well then, maybe he had changed.

***

That weekend, Kirishima had come over to help Bakugou get ready. It proved fairly difficult, since he was usually very grumpy in the morning, especially before his coffee.

"No Shitty Hair, I am not wearing that."

Kirishima held up an outfit that was more dressy than Bakugou was used to wearing. "You don't have many choices. It's between this, wearing the same thing you wear every weekend, or borrowing something from my closet."

Bakugou sighed and gave in. He wasn't proud, but when he made it to the cafe, he noticed Shouto looking at him a bit differently. He ordered as nonchalantly as possible, since his dad was standing directly behind him, but still managed a wink when Enji wasn't looking. Shouto blushed, but tried his best to hide it when the next customer ordered.

Bakugou sat in the same seat he always did, but found himself glancing over at the counter where Shouto worked more often than usual. He kept typing out drafts of texts, wanting to talk to Shouto, but deleted them, knowing he couldn't answer while working.

Finally, he sent, damn it, does time always go so slow around here? It was only a few minutes after 10:30, and he wanted their date to come as quickly as possible.

He heard Shouto's phone vibrate from across the room, and then saw him lift his head and locate Bakugou with his eyes. Bakugou sent another text, trying to test to see if he was brave enough to check his phone again in front of his dad.

He did look at it after he had helped the last customer in line and typed a reply as quickly as possible, trying to avoid scrutiny from Enji.

Stop, you're distracting me. Bakugou read it in Shouto's stern voice, although he was fairly certain he meant it more playfully.

Yeah, that's kinda the point.

Shouto felt his phone buzz again, but before he could respond, Enji snapped at him. "Stop getting distracted by that damn phone or you're done working for the day."

Shouto much preferred the latter option, so he grabbed his phone out of his pocket in an act of defiance.

Enji took the phone and yelled at his son. "Go home now. You're grounded."

Shouto looked hurt, but not surprised. Everyone in the cafe watched in shock as Shouto quickly did as Enji had told him, and Bakugou followed shortly after. He caught up to Shouto before he could get to his car. "Wow, you really underplayed how shitty your dad is," he half-joked in an effort to get Shouto's attention.

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have disobeyed."

Bakugou sighed, disappointed to hear Shouto talk about himself like that. "Maybe not, but he shouldn't have acted like that either. And anyway, I was the one distracting you." Bakugou didn't blame himself, but he hoped putting part of the blame on himself would help Shouto realize how ridiculous the situation was.

"No, I know, it's just," he stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot, not knowing if he should say what was on his mind. "I feel like I ruined our date."

Bakugou laughed, not in a hostile way, but more to tell Shouto that he shouldn't worry so much. "Our date hasn't even started yet. We still have time." He would estimate it was near 11 now.

"But I'm grounded. If he finds out I didn't do what he said, he'll kill me."

"Then let's not let him find out."

Shouto warmed up to the idea as he drove Bakugou away from the cafe (they agreed they could pick up Bakugou’s car later) and off in some unimportant direction. He finally felt free, like he didn't have to worry about what his dad thought anymore. It felt like if he had Bakugou with him, it didn't matter if he got grounded or didn't get to work at the cafe. He drove for a while in silence, not caring if they never had to stop.

Then, Bakugou suggested a place. "Stop here," he commanded simply, pointing to a small restaurant on the right.

Shouto turned off and parked in front, and although they were both hungry, they just sat in the parking lot for a while.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I didn't do anything. It was all you.”

“You did. You gave me the power to disobey. And even though I’m not really in a position to get caught, it’s still a good feeling. I’m always stuck pretending. Pretending I like my dad, pretending to like my job.”

“Screw everyone else. You’re the only one that matters in your own life.”

Shouto blushed at this advice, even though he wasn’t sure he completely believed it. It wasn’t surprising that Bakugou did, though. “Well, I’m not sure about that.” He let his hand move an inch towards the passenger seat, overlapping his fingers with Bakugou’s. He wanted to show him some sort of affection so he could understand that he was truly thankful, even if he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions.

Unfortunately, he apparently did something wrong, because Bakugou jumped at the touch and opened the car door, almost as if he was trying to get away. “Good talk, Half-and-Half, but you should probably get home soon. I’m gonna get some lunch and I’ll call a friend to drive me to my car.” He rushed away from the car and towards the restaurant, and although Shouto would’ve loved to stay and have lunch, Bakugou was right: Enji would be almost done at the cafe, so Shouto would have to get home before he was missed. He drove away without saying goodbye.

***

The next weekend, Bakugou woke up in a pile of blankets and covered in sweat like he did every morning. He would usually say it annoyed him, but he never took any move to rectify it, probably because deep down he knew it served as some sort of replacement for real human contact.

Also every morning, he got out of bed a little too excited to visit his favorite coffee shop. He knew very well why, but he would never say it out loud. He just let the anticipation bubble up inside him as he drove there, waiting to lose even a sliver of his usual loneliness.

Unfortunately, the object of his excitement, the person who usually alleviates his feelings of solitude, wasn’t there that day. He still ordered his usual drink from someone who didn't have it memorized and sat down at his usual spot, but none of it felt the same. He left with his drink in a matter of minutes. He tried his best to will away the ache in his gut from not seeing that nerd with half-red-half-white hair.

He took out his phone and typed a message. Taking a sick day? He didn't get a reply. So, he texted again, hurriedly this time, actually a little worried that Shouto was in danger. If you got yourself hurt, dickhead, I swear... He couldn’t finish the text. He didn't know what to say to him, and for a second, he worried it was his fault.

Then, he remembered what had happened last week: Shouto had been grounded. Not even that, but his dad had taken his phone away, so it must be that he just hadn’t given it back yet. And that might explain Shouto’s absence; he might be grounded from work, too. Bakugou sighed, a little disappointed that Enji had made such a big deal out of it. He remembered a time when he never wanted to get this close to someone. But now, all he wanted to do was find Shouto and apologize for being so flaky the other day, consequences be damned.

That was what he wanted to do, but not what he did. He buried his face in his phone, trying not to think about anything other than Shouto. He was probably better off, anyway, he thought. He could protect himself.

He spent the day with distractions, but he couldn’t help but worry. It felt distinctly not like him, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. So, after dinner, even though it was starting to get dark out, he snuck out to try and alleviate this feeling, even if that just meant going for a walk.

He found himself in front of the cafe.

It was the first time Shouto had ever seen him under the moonlight. He was somehow even more radiant, and he felt himself wanting to see him even closer. Instead, he opened the door for him and went back to work cleaning.

Bakugou broke the silence. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“Really? It’s almost 6 PM. We’ve been closed for hours.”

“Well, then, I guess I hoped I’d find you here. I didn’t really know where else I’d go looking.” He looked at his feet, uneasy, as if just this much was hard enough for him to say.

“Ah, so you were looking for me, then?”

“Shut up.” He didn't want to say anything further, so he didn't. He just watched Shouto wipe down the same counters he had seen him clean a hundred times before. That led him to another question. “Why are you here so late?” If their shop had closed hours ago, why was he still here? Shouldn’t they have done this job earlier?

Shouto sighed. “Punishment,” he explained briefly, but he thought it was enough to get the point across. He would gladly wipe down these counters until it wore down to the wood as long as it meant he wouldn’t have to spend another second with his dad.

Bakugou hummed, not knowing how else to respond, but relieved that the worst Shouto’s dad had done to him was overwork him. Still not dad of the year behavior, but not as bad as the millions of scenarios Bakugou had been imagining. “So you’re okay?” The moment the words left his mouth, he knew that it was the question that had been bothering him the entire day, but saying it out loud felt like a mistake. Shouto didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed glad that he had someone worried about him.

“I’m fine.”

Bakugou believed him. It was easy to see when Shouto was unhappy a lot of the time, since that look was permanently on his face when Enji was around. But in that moment, Bakugou saw something that was rare for Shouto: happiness.

Bakugou made his way around the counter to get closer to Shouto, suddenly needing to let him know the feelings he had just figured out. And although Bakugou initiated the kiss, he had no idea what to do with his hands, and they hovered midair for a second before Shouto wrapped one arm around his neck, tight enough to make him shiver, and one arm around his abdomen. Then magically, Bakugou’s hands fell perfectly into place on Shouto’s hips. He pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, and suddenly they’re hugging each other, practically falling into each other's arms.

If it was anyone else, Bakugou would get embarrassed, and probably a little angry. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't melt into it like it made him feel whole. But with Shouto, it seemed like what he had been waiting for ever since the first time he laid eyes on him in that coffee shop on a cold winter morning only a few weeks ago.

"Hey, Bakugou?”

Bakugou looked in his direction, a little embarrassed hearing his name come from Shouto. "You can call me Katsuki," he answered, not exactly sure what to say. He was used to knowing how to do things, and striving to be the best. With Shouto, though, he was starting to be happy with being himself, even if that meant he wasn't the best at everything.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" Shouto asked, already moving towards the machine.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Shouto started up the coffee pot, hoping his father wouldn't notice a little bit of his stock being gone, and in knowing it was for Bakugou-- no, Katsuki, he stopped caring. He sat down at Katsuki’s usual spot, and he looked down at him, faux-anger on his face.

"Move your ass, asshole."

"Creative," Shouto mocked, smirking and handing Katsuki his mug.

"Shut up, half-and-half. I'm tired. That's what the coffee's for."

Shouto just laughed, and his heart felt light.

Katsuki sipped his coffee just like he did every morning, content with the feeling of the scolding liquid almost burning his tongue, but this time he felt complete, especially when he felt Shouto’s fingers intertwine with his own under the table. His fingers started to warm up now that they were out of the cold.

#todobaku #tdbkdkWE20 #mha #my hero academia #bnha #mari writes

13 notes · View notes

everwitch-magiks · 5 years

Text

somebody save your soul 'cause you've been sinning in this city

Slowly, Will walked up the steps to his apartment complex. He was feeling a bit tired, maybe a little hungry, but mostly he was happy to be home. More importantly, though, Will wasn’t feeling completely exhausted, drained of all emotions with his mind wiped blank.

And that was new.

Before, whenever Will came back from a visit to his folks, he used to feel a sort of aching emptiness, as though everything he knew himself to be was suddenly gone from within him, his sense of self broken into fragments that he couldn’t seem to piece back into a whole. It would always take him days, sometimes even weeks, before he felt like he’d regained some semblance of clarity. It had gotten to the point where he’d found himself coming up with weaker and weaker excuses in order to avoid, or at the very least put off, his next trip home.

But that was before he’d told them.

Because he had told them, finally. Nearing a breaking point, Will had decided that their disapproval couldn’t actually be much worse than the constant feeling of living a double life. And so he had stopped. He had stopped carefully omitting anything that could give too much away about his life in the city. He had stopped the white lies, dropped all pretences and faced their shock and disgust with his head held high. He had told them, his voice trembling with a conflicting mixture of anger and fear, that if they had any problem with his choice of partners, that was on them. And he wasn’t going to deal with it for them.

It hadn’t been their most joyous Thanksgiving dinner.

Will’s uncle had been the first to come around. Jeremy Pointdexter was as traditional as they came, but he did have a big heart, not to mention a great fondness for his youngest nephew. That Christmas, Jeremy had made the trip to New York, demanding that Will show him all the sights and ignoring every call from their outraged relatives.

Will had never been so grateful for anything in his life. (And he didn’t even like sightseeing.) He had been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was going to spend his first Christmas by himself – the first of many, if the whole situation didn’t improve – and finding himself in the company of his favourite uncle, instead, was in no way an unpleasant surprise.

His mother had held out until Easter, before she’d finally called.

Little by little, things had gotten better. It had been a lot of work, with many difficult conversations and near-arguments, and Will often had to remind himself that at least his parents were trying – for so many, that alone would’ve been a blessing. Slowly, things became a bit easier – not perfect, but so much less awful. Good enough, maybe.

Which was why, when Will walked into his tiny apartment in Morningside Heights, letting go of his duffel bag and closing the door behind him, all he felt was a distinct absence of emptiness.

Before, Will would have been out the door within minutes. He’d have taken the subway all the way down to 18th street, walking into one of his old haunts and quickly finding an appropriate distraction, someone with eyes to get lost in and touches that would render him blissfully incoherent. Someone who could make him feel less shameful, and dirty, and disposable. Someone to make him feel like he belonged, if only for the night.

Now, it was almost two hours before he got on the train.

Stepping into his favourite bar, he found himself looking around for familiar faces. Out on the dance floor, there was a tall brunette with a great ass who definitely rang a bell, and it was possible that he’d at least had a chat with the cute blonde next to him. But the one who made him grin widely was the all too familiar lady who was perched up on a stool by the bar.

“Dexy, my man,” she greeted him when he’d made his way over to her, already sliding a shot in his direction. “You’re later than usual.”

Will shrugged, then downed the shot.

“I had things to unpack.”

“Emotional baggage?” she teased, yet there was a hint of concern in her voice. “More shots?”

“No more shots,” Will decided. “And no, Lards, I’m fine. It wasn’t even bad, this time.”

Will had met Lardo shortly after he’d moved to the city. A coworker had introduced them, and it was only after he had not-so-subtly disappeared, leaving the two of them alone, that Will had recognised the situation for what it was. He’d panicked for a moment, unsure of what to say to her – he wasn’t anywhere near ready to come out to anybody, and definitely not to somebody he’d only just met – but to his relief, Larissa had beaten him to it.

“Wow, this is awkward. See, I’m pretty exclusively into women. No offence.”

“None taken,” Dex had breathed out, beyond relieved. “Actually, I’m not really looking to date anyone right now, so. It’s all good.”

That had made Larissa raise both of her eyebrows.

“Not looking to date, huh. You do realize I know what that’s code for?”

Will had frozen, his expression probably betraying far more than he was prepared to reveal. Larissa’s smile had softened immediately.

“It’s all right, Pointdexter. Let me buy you a drink, okay?”

That night, when Larissa (“call me Lardo, only my mother calls me Larissa”) had slipped him her number, Will had no idea that over the course of the next four years, she was going to become someone incredibly important in his life. His best friend, maybe.

“It’s good seeing you again. I’ve been so bored without you.”

“Yes, these two days have sure felt like a lifetime,” Will told her, rolling his eyes. “Going soft on me, Lards?”

“Quite the opposite.” Lardo grinned. “From now on you’re never allowed to leave New York, ever again. I need my daily dose of Dexness.”

“That still isn’t an actual word.”

“It can’t not be a word – I just said it.” For some reason, Lardo sat up a little straighter, her eyes suddenly focused on something behind Will. “And more importantly, it looks like I’m not the only one craving it.”

“Huh?”

“I spy tall, dark and handsome looking your way.”

“Really?” Dex asked, barely resisting the urge to turn around. “How handsome?”

“Handsome enough. Trust me.” For some reason, Lardo smiled sweetly, then made a vaguely beckoning hand gesture. “Awesome, he’s coming over.”

“What?” Will exclaimed, unsettled. “Wait, stop. How do I look?”

“Decent enough.” Lardo slipped off her stool and picked up her last shot glass, shooting Will a wicked grin. “He’s all yours, darlin’. Now behave yourself.”

“Why do I always let you do this?” Will called after her, but Lardo ignored him completely, quickly disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.

Will barely had the time to take a deep breath, before someone spoke up behind him.

“Hey.”

Slowly, Will turned around.

Lardo was right. This guy was more than handsome enough.

There was a playful gleam in his brown eyes that immediately sparked Will’s interest. He was wearing tight jeans and a white crop to that just might be one or two sizes too small – it was absolutely perfect. His black skin contrasted beautifully with the white, almost sheer fabric, leaving Will torn between leaving it on and tearing it off.

By the time Will actually looked back up to meet the stranger’s eyes, he was met with a wide smile, one that quickly blended over into what was probably supposed to be a less ridiculous, more laid-back grin.

Well.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Dance?”

“Okay,” Will agreed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the guy’s rather poor attempt at playing it cool. “Let’s go.”

The stranger‘s grin widened as he took Will by the hand, leading him out into the sea of bodies. It was a little crowded, but not so crowded that the guy had to press himself this close to Will, his hands loosely gripping Will’s hips. Will let him take the lead, at first, following his movements as they swayed to the beat, but after a while he reached up to wrap his arms around the guy’s shoulders as he carefully pressed his lips onto bare skin, dipping out his tongue teasingly. The guy’s breath hitched, and suddenly Will found himself smiling into a quickly deepening kiss, his body hot all over as they both tried to pull the other even closer. The music changed, turning into something more up-tempo, yet neither of them cared as they stayed entangled with each other, each desperate kiss blending over into the next.

After a while, Will broke them apart, taking a small step backwards and trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was incredible.”

Will smiled – the guy looked completely wrecked, his lips swollen red and his breaths coming out in short gasps. Not so cool and indifferent now, huh.

“Please tell me I can take you home,” the guy continued, his tone actually frantic. “I mean, only if you want to – it’s like super chill if you don’t, no worries, it’s cool. You can, like, take time to make up your mind and stuff. Or, we could-”

“If you say like one more time, I’m not fucking you,” Will interrupted him, speaking firmly. “Okay?”

The guy just looked at Will for a moment, his eyes wide. Will frowned.

“Unless you don’t want me to?”

“No, no – I want to.” The guy stepped closer to Will, lowering his voice a little. “It’s just… You would fuck me? As in, top…?”

“I mean, yeah. I want to.” Will tried his best not to feel self-conscious. “Unless you-”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Will blinked, startled. The guy was smiling again, almost shyly this time, except there was nothing shy about the way he took Will’s hands in his, pulling him back in to lick a slow stripe along Will’s neck, all the way up to his ear.

Ah. Okay, then.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Of course this guy lived in a spacious fucking studio apartment in Chelsea, of fucking course. Will held in several comments about trust funds and income inequality as he was led past the kitchen area and over to a wide alcove, where the bed was. He barely had time to take in the silk sheets and dark red throw pillows – fuck, that was velvet, wasn’t it, what the fuck – before a bottle of lube and several packages of condoms were pressed into his hands.

“They’re different sizes,” the guy said, hurriedly. “You know, in case…”

“Ah,” Will said, taking a look at them. And then, abruptly, he realized. “You do this a lot.”

He regretted the words as soon as he’d spoken. Why did he always do this, why. For once in his life, couldn’t he just think before he opened his goddamn mouth?

To his great relief, the guy merely shrugged, his smile bashful rather than forced. And suddenly, Will realized how much this guy reminded him of himself, from a couple of years ago. From before, when he hadn’t quite settled into himself, back when he’d still been searching for some sort of elusive clarity that he didn’t even know how to properly define.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“So we’re the same age,” Will concluded, tilting his head curiously. “What’s your name?”

“Derek.” For some reason, Derek gave him a strange look, as though the question seemed out of place to him. “Uh. Should we…?”

“Yeah.” Will grinned towards him. “We definitely should.”

When Lardo called him the next day, as per usual, Will would purposefully make his answers short, claiming that it hadn’t even lasted that long so there wasn’t very much to say about it. He didn’t like lying to Lardo – didn’t like lying to anybody, least of all to his friends – but this time, he did, the words just slipping out.

Maybe, Will simply hadn’t been able to find the right words to describe how it’d felt. How Derek had been so eager for it, more so than almost anyone Will had been with before. How they’d moved together easily, so easily, in almost perfect synchronization. Just as if Derek was Will’s lover of many years and this was far from the first time Will had him pressed up against a bedroom wall, fucking him good and fast and going deeper and deeper, his teeth scraping against Derek’s neck as Derek finally came with a low groan, Will following only a moment later.

It took all of Will’s determination to keep them both upright – Derek had gone completely limp in Will’s arms, leaning all his weight on him and breathing deeply. Carefully, Will managed to maneuver them both to the bed, where they collapsed in a graceless pile of entangled limbs and discarded clothes.

Will let himself lie down for only a couple of minutes, before he got up.

Quietly, he made his way over to the side of the room that functioned as the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from a shelf and filled it with water, gulping it down in one go before filling it again. Then he made for the bathroom, finding what looked like a clean towel and pouring some warm water on it, before returning to the bed.

“Hey,” he said gently, setting the glass down on a bookshelf that also seemed to function as something of a bedside table. “How’re you feeling?”

Slowly, Derek’s eyes blinked open.

“You’re still here.”

“Obviously.” Will held out the damp towel towards him. “Here. I got you some water, too.”

Derek took the towel, staring at it for a moment before he looked back up at Will.

“Why are you still here?”

Will paused, taking in Derek’s expression. He could just leave – he would, if Derek asked him to. Yet there was something in the tone of Derek’s voice that made Will feel curious, rather than deterred.

“I’m not in a hurry,” he settled for, after a moment. “And I wanted to make sure you’re good.”

“Huh.” Derek looked back down at the towel in his hands, before wiping himself over a little self-consciously. “Did you… Water?”

Will handed him the glass, and Derek finished it even faster than Will had, before handing it back.

“Thank you.”

“Do your partners not usually stay?”

Derek blinked, looking a little bit surprised. And, Will realized a moment later, a lot hesitant.

“I guess that’s none of my business,” Will added, because really, it wasn’t. “It’s just… If I’d walked out of here, leaving you without as much as a word after I’d gotten what I wanted, I would’ve had very little respect for myself.”

“But you’re not my boyfriend, or anything like that.” Derek was speaking slowly, his expression vaguely confused. “There wasn’t even a date. You clearly don’t have any kind of emotional obligation, here.”

“Emotional what?” Will exclaimed. “Oh, my God. Please tell me that isn’t something you had to hear from someone you slept with.”

“That is definitely none of your business.” Derek didn’t quite meet Will’s eyes as he continued. “And okay, maybe it wasn’t articulated perfectly, but it’s not wrong. If I had a boyfriend, and he walked out without a word after sex, that would’ve been a serious level of dickheadedness. But when it’s someone I’m just sleeping with, it’s different. You walking out on me would’ve been fine.”

“It would not have been fine.” Will took a deep breath, trying his best to keep his voice calm, but still firm. “Even if you’re only with someone once, it’s not too much to ask that your partner should make you feel cared for, and safe. It’s not. I don’t know who you’ve been fucking, exactly, but please consider fucking someone else. Anyone else, really.”

“And if it’s everyone I’ve been fucking?”

That made Will fall silent. Derek was glaring at him, now, the look in his eyes defiant.

“If you could tell me where to find one of these brilliant guys who’d go the extra mile for someone they might never see again, that’d be great. But until that happens, I’m going to keep fucking whoever I’d like, and you can go fuck right off.”

“You could just fuck me, instead.”

And this time, Will didn’t regret speaking before he had thought things through. Because for once, he didn’t want to take it back.

Derek was staring at him, his expression completely bewildered.

“Did you not get the part where I told you to fuck off?”

Will paused.

“Right. You kind of did, didn’t you?”

“God, why do you have to be such an idiot?” Derek groaned, hiding his face behind the towel. “The sex was great, okay? It’s not that. It’s definitely not that.”

“Okay,” Will said, feeling a little helpless, and a lot awkward. “I guess I’ll, uh. I’ll just see myself out, then.”

“Oh, screw it. No.” Slowly, Derek peeked out from behind the towel. “I mean, I guess you could, like, stick around for a while. Stay the night, if you still want to? As long as you shut the hell up, that’d be somewhat chill.”

“You actually use the word chill unironically.” Will shook his head, but he couldn’t quite keep himself from smiling, just a little bit. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Yeah?” And suddenly, Derek’s tone was oddly nervous. “You really don’t have to just because you feel sorry for me, or whatever. I can take care of myself.”

“I want to, though.” Will reached out his hand tentatively, holding Derek’s gaze as he gently brushed his fingers across Derek’s cheek. “For completely selfish reasons, actually.”

“Okay.” Derek took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. Good.”

“So. Big spoon, or…?”

“You really didn’t get the part about shutting up, did you?” Derek sighed. “I’ll spoon you.”

“Right. Okay.” A little awkwardly, Will got into the bed. “I never told you my name.”

“And what a tragedy that is.”

“It’s William,” Will supplied, despite Derek’s apparent disinterest. “Most people call me Will, though.”

“Isn’t that fascinating,” Derek muttered, even as he gently wrapped his arms around Will. “Can I sleep now, William?”

Will smiled.

“Sure. Goodnight.”

Derek made no answer.

Will stayed awake for awhile, quietly enjoying the feeling of strong arms wrapped around him and quiet breaths behind him. He wasn’t sure if Derek was awake, too, or if he’d fallen asleep instantly. Either way, he seemed relaxed, and that was all Will needed to know.

As Will finally drifted away, his thoughts of Derek followed him into his dreams, where he found them both years away in a distant future, in a time and place where Derek didn’t have that vaguely uncertain look in his eyes as though he was silently wondering whether or not he deserved to be comforted, or loved. Whether or not he deserved to feel more than disposable to those around him. Will had adored Derek’s smile that evening, but the smiling Derek in his dreams seemed even more radiant, somehow. Even more beautiful.

The next morning, Will left with the memory of a gentle kiss on his cheek, and a new number among the contacts in his phone.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #derek nurse #william poindexter #check please #fanfiction #au #nc17 #lemon #is that how we tag now are we officially back to citrus #this was fun #would write again #a bit angsty with mentions of not supportive family members concerning lgbt stuff #evie writes

74 notes · View notes

loyalflutist · 4 years

Text

First Kiss (f!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 Day 1: First Kiss

A/N: So, I totally missed the first two days at this point (RIP self), but decided to give this a swing anyway. I love love LOVE these two so much. Aside from Edeleth, I love Doroleth so much too. They’re... They’re just so wholesome. Anyway, this one-shot features two awkward women who finally get to kiss, gasp! Hope you like it! I enjoyed writing this.

---

It was ironic how both Byleth and Dorothea express their naive and innocent nature for romance. Byleth, who had seen many parts of the world as a mercenary, could not distinguish between friends and lovers. Dorothea, who had varying attempts of being ringed by many men and women during her opera career, could not figure out what to do that didn't involve her habitual flirting. Add two confused young adults and their relationship is bound to be full of bombastic embarrassments and experiments.

Dorothea did try her best to move the cogs though. It's unfortunate that the two never made it past a friendly student-teacher association. Whenever she approached Byleth, the older woman would always stare at her blankly, the words that would bestow one's cheeks with redness having bounced off instead. Not even tickling her professor made any impact either! Byleth would always pat her on the head and shoo her away in preparation for the next day's lecture. During the rare occasion that the teacher invites the opera singer out for tea, their conversations were light-hearted and held almost no importance. As a matter of fact... Dorothea recalls that Byleth hadn't spoken much at all during their tea session anyway. Dorothea had filled the silent atmosphere on her own! It was completely one-sided!

"UGH," the student's hat nearly fell off her head as she slumped onto the classroom's desk face-first. "I could never understand what the professor is feeling..."

Across from her, Edelgard draped her arms on top of the wooden chair, her chin resting on them. The Black Eagle's house leader was always someone she confides in. All of her woos and woes were dumped on the white-haired female. Not that Edelgard minds. After all, they were of close friends. What sort of future emperor would she be if she can't even hear Dorothea out? Besides, now is the best time to pour out her emotional baggage, the lectures long over. Everyone had bailed out into the field and were either enjoying themselves in the cafeteria, petting the cats and dogs, or practicing in the training field. It was just Edelgard and Dorothea. Dorothea let out another groan as the noble softy hummed and watched over the agonized student.

"It's clear that you two like each other."

"You think so?" Dorothea didn't bother to raise her head. "I like her, but I don't know if she feels the same way towards me."

"Dorothea, everyone could tell from a mile away."

"Oh really."

"Yes really," Edelgard sighed into her arms. "If Petra could tell, that means it's that obvious."

"..." The commoner finally straightened her sitting posture. Elbows pressed upon the worn wooden surface, Dorothea grumbled, "Ridiculous. Then why didn't the professor say anything?"

"You know the professor is bad with her emotions."

"You aren't wrong about that. A brick even has more expression than her!"

"...I think you misunderstood me. She's not the only one to blame for this situation." Edelgard sternly poked her friend's hand. "You're sending her mixed messages. You have to understand that she grew up not knowing what the world is like to a normal civilian. She's lived her whole life as a mercenary up until now."

"..."

Edelgard had a point. Byleth was always oblivious... maybe a little too oblivious at times. Could it be because of Jeralt's protectiveness over his daughter? Or could it be that their mercenary ways influenced Byleth's social skills, making her difficult to read and socialize with? Dorothea could hardly keep up with her when it came to this particular trait. Even more grumbles and incoherent mumbles blubbered out of her way as the opera singer contemplated about her professor.

"What do you think I should do then to show her just how much I like her?"

"Have you ever tried giving her a kiss?"

Out of all the people in her life to hear of such advice, it came from Hubert's mouth. Dorothea had flinched from his sudden appearance. A bead of sweat ran down the loyal servant to Edelgard at the sight of the exaggerated woman. (Or at least, appears to be exaggerated. Little did he know that she really did leap up to her feet, toss her arms high up in the air, and raise one leg up by instinct.) It took an immense amount of energy for Hubert to stifle his sigh, his lips stiffened in lieu.

"Why do you act that way, Dorothea?"

"Oh, Hubie, have you ever tried to let others know that you're about to appear?" she frowned after regaining her composure. "Sheesh! You're like an assassin!"

"Can't say you're wrong about that..."

"Did you say something, Edie?"

"It was nothing."

Hubert coughed into his fist in hopes of returning to their original conversation. "I apologize for having scared you, Dorothea." He bowed. "As I was saying, giving her a kiss is the best way to show her how you feel."

"K-Kiss... Don't you think there's an alternative I could pursue instead?"

"Then I shall ask you this: do you like her as a friend or as a lover?"

"What a silly question! I like her!"

"As...?" he raised his brow.

"As a..."

Dorothea suddenly felt her mouth dry and throat become parched. The stylistic female tried to finish her sentence only to have wordless air puff out of her voicebox. She clamped her jaw and tried again. It was the same result. There was no answer to his question. Dorothea's eyes began to wander as Edelgard exchanged glances with Hubert. The duo's gaze eventually moved to the entranceway of the lecture hall. Lo and behold, they spotted an important figure for this topic. Both of them faintly smiled. Hubert assisted in Edelgard's hasty retreat from the premise. Of course, their quick bids of farewell alarmed Dorothea. The brown-haired female jolted back to reality and turned around.

"Wait! Where are you both going-- O-OH, BYL-- Professor!?" Byleth stood in front of Dorothea with a textbook at hand, her eyes wide from the outburst of her name. She blinked a couple of times. Dorothea proceeded to flash her favorite professor a bright smile. "Fancy meeting you here! What are you doing here at this time?"

"I think I should be asking you the same thing. What are YOU doing here?"

Drats. Byleth not only avoided the question (though it was likely a predictable answer knowing of her duty), she tossed it right back at the asker. Dorothea bit her lower lip. She knew she could lie. A little white lie doesn't hurt, right? But at the same time, she couldn't do that to Byleth... or rather, she can't. Those piercing and intense gaze that could see right through the magus... A shudder ran down Dorothea's spine, her smile slightly faltering.

"..."

"...um..." the professor broke the silence with a single motion of her hand. "If you don't have any business here, I suggest you hang out with your classmates. It's a wonderful evening out and the weather is perfect."

Once again, Byleth was shooing her away. It was the same exact scene played out almost word-for-word. Dorothea could not help but make a comparison to them being in a theatre, the script running its course for the nth time. She was not going to allow it to end on a stale note like before though. Before Byleth could reach out and pat her student's head, Dorothea dropped a bombshell.

"Professor, I really like you."

"?!" Byleth's outstretched hand froze in midair. "...um... I like you too."

Uh oh. It seems like she misunderstood the definition of "like" in this context. Hubert's question echoed in the back of Dorothea's head the instant Byleth had given that hesitant response. If she laughs it off, that means their relationship would solidify into that of strong friends. If she speaks up, she might be able to accurately convey what she is feeling deep inside. Dorothea felt the palm of her hands moistened. It was now or never.

"Not in that way. I mean... I like you like this..."

For someone who was dubbed the "Ashen Demon," Byleth's lips were soft and wholesome. They were so delicate, Dorothea was afraid that her kiss would corrupt its pure existence. It only lasted a split second though as the intimate exchange was fleeting. The opera singer took a few steps backward and observed her teacher.

"That was... my first kiss..." Byleth murmured. She gently touched her own lips and showcased... confusion. "I... don't understand."

' ...oh GOD, did I just do that? ' Dorothea nearly slapped her forehead. Now it seems as though the situation was worsening! ' Why did I listen to Hubie?! Stupid, stupid! What if the professor hates me now?! '

"Dorothea."

"YES?!"

That jerked the student upright like a soldier after a squeaky reply. Beads of sweat flew out of her head in anticipation of her instructor's next words. If anything, she's bracing herself for some harsh warnings. Dorothea trembled in spot, her eyes watering. Byleth placed the textbook onto a nearby empty desk and closed their distance. It took all of Dorothea's will to keep herself from running away, her feet rooted to the ground.

"I still don't understand why you did that."

"..."

"But," the ex-mercenary pulled her into a... hug? Oh goodness, she did pull Dorothea into a hug. It was a complete shocker for the student. Normally, she's not fond of being touched by anyone despite her demeanor. The girl would squirm and dropkick the responsible person. However, her knees buckled and her body was only held up by the teacher. Warmth enveloped Dorothea as Byleth said, "I want to understand it. I also want to understand why my chest feels so full... Could you teach me why I feel this way, Dorothea?"

"Professor..." Dorothea could hardly contain the wide grin that crossed her face. She buried her face into the professor's shoulder and breathed, "What you're feeling is love."

"Do you feel that way?"

"Yes."

"So... you don't like me?"

"I do... but I also love you too."

Turns out, listening to Hubert did work to her advantage, their first kiss ending in a bright note. In the background, Hubert and Edelgard spied from the back of the room. Their eyes were trained on the two with an iron grip on the doorway's borders.

"Thank goodness they got together," Edelgard mumbled. "Seeing them pin at each other from afar was driving me nuts!"

"Lady Edelgard, I think the same should be said about yourself."

"?"

Hubert cupped his chin and smiled. "I've noticed that you and Ingrid are in a similar predicament as our professor and Dorothea--"

"STOOOOOP!"

25 notes · View notes

girlinthepictureframe · 5 years

Text

The Briefest Kiss Part 10

New Year's Eve

“He knows how to play the acoustic,” explained Alex, still laughing, “but he doesn't know a thing about modified electrics. Broke the damn thing off. He looked so guilty and lost, I actually felt bad for him. Got him an old electric of mine, told him to practice until I get back. He'll get there.”

Miles, who sat a few seats down the bar, was able to hear Alex tell the story and smiled to himself. How he would have loved to have seen it. Alex's father was a very talented musician, he played a bunch of instruments, but it was only in recent years that he had discovered his interest in rocking out on guitars. He'd jammed quite a few times with him and Alex during their last tour. Miles lifted his eyes, carefully sneaking a glance at Alex, only to have him glance back. Miles quickly adverted his eyes, feeling stupid and caught. A ridiculous thought. But it was there nonetheless.

Why did Alex have to show up tonight? Miles began bouncing his leg, a nervous gesture. For the first time in a long while Miles was having somewhat of a good time, surrounded by friends and old acquaintances. They had chatted, caught up, laughed, until, about an hour ago, Alex had walked in. Everyone else was still having a good time. Only his good mood had withered immediately.

Well, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't been in thatgood of a mood to begin with. It was New Year's Eve and here he was, three months after his kind-of break-up with Alex, still trying to figure out where to go from there. For the entire day the thought of not spending the night with Alex had weighed down on him. Then he'd told himself to bloody get a grip and get it together. So he'd tried to get it together, to not think of Alex, and to distract himself. Naturally, Alex had used that moment to reenter Miles' life.

Fucker loved a good entrance.

Miles had been so shocked by the sight of his old friend that he had only been able to mumble a weird, incoherent welcome which had included the words 'hi', 'um', and 'hello'. Not his brightest moment! Then Alex had given him the tiniest, most timid smile and a carefully spoken 'hello'. It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone say anything in a careful manner, but truly, there was no other way to describe it.

Overwhelmed and unsure how to react, Miles had wordlessly walked away, taken a seat at the bar and not moved from there since. Ten minutes later, Alex had taken a seat as well. Two chairs down to the right. And when Miles began to believe that the night couldn't possible get anymore awkward, Al's girlfriend had walked in and straight up planted herself on Al's lap.

'That's my spot,' Miles' increasingly drunk and startlingly jealous mind had chimed in and almost as if Alex had heard it, he'd had given her a nudge and let her know to find a chair instead. Miles' mind had responded a snarky 'thank you!' Ever since then he and his mind were pondering his next moves. Should he remain at the bar? Should he head out to the balcony? Or, better yet, just go home? Maybe he should just call it a night and—

“Hey, Miles.”

He and his mind should have paid more attention, apparently! Neither one had noticed Alex taking a seat next to him. Miles took a large swig from his drink and swallowed hard. “Alex.”

“Are you enjoying your night?”

As Miles pondered his response, he allowed his sight to linger on Alex. He looked vulnerable and afraid, almost scared. It was hard to see his friend like that. His former friend. He didn't want things to be awkward between them. Maybe they didn't know how to be the friends they used to be at the moment, but did that necessarily imply that they couldn't act 'normal' around each other? They didn't need to hug or whisper or talk about their shared history, but couldn't they have a neutral conversation? Apparently not, Miles realized, as he attempted to answer Alex's very simple question. “I was. I am, I mean. I believe. What I'm trying to say is...oh bloody hell!” Miles grabbed the drink in front of him, finished it off and turned to Alex. “Fuck this! Care for a smoke?”

Alex looked as though Miles had made him the world's greatest gift. “God, yes!”

Both made their way out to the balcony. It was almost empty. A few people were hovering near the wall, but it was an icy cold winter night and people weren't dressed for the weather. Miles didn't care. The cold soothed him, helped him get keep his head clear. And he knew Alex felt the same.

“It's weird,” said Miles, trying to explain his set of mind. “Seeing you here, after all this time. For a moment I wished you hadn't shown up. At the same time, though, I'm glad that you did. I just don't know how to talk to you.”

“Me neither,” admitted Alex, shyly. “I hadn't planned on coming here. I was sitting in my apartment the whole day, deciding for and against coming here. But we always spend this night together. And I thought, if I don't show up, what if that's another nail in the coffin of our friendship?”

“Does it have a coffin yet?” Miles snuck a worried glance at Alex.

“You tell me.” He lit the cigarette for which they had come for. As did Miles. “I still don't have the words you deserve to hear. I've written countless letters to you. They're sitting in shelves all over the world. I was in LA and remembered our time making our album. And I tried writing to you about that. In France I recalled our night at the lake. How simple it was for us to shrug off what had happened that night. How we didn't move on from that, because we never needed to move on. We were just okay with it all. In London I went to visit the club where we first met. Remember the one? There's a picture of us which the owners hung up near the bathrooms. I had never noticed before. A few days ago I was in Sheffield and wrote to you about how much I miss you.”

Miles wished he'd gotten the letters, wished that he knew every single word Alex had written down. “Why haven't you sent any of 'em, Al?”

“I let my heart write those letters, Mi. They're too honest. At times, they're even too honest for myself.”

Miles wanted to tell him that there could never be too much truth between. But that was a lie. He remembered his own omissions of honesty. And he knew there were things he was keeping from Alex. Feelings. Desires. Fears. Truths. If Miles allowed his heart to take the reigns, he'd be having his way with Alex right here, right now, consequences be damned. If he allowed his mind to lead, he'd never touch Alex again out of fear for even the smallest repercussions. “What if we never find the right words, Al? What if we don't find a way out of this hole that we've dug?”

“We will, Miles.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cause I bloody fucking miss you.”

Miles closed his eyes, took a deep breath and clutched the wrought iron rail of the balcony they were standing on. It took all that he had inside of him not to grab Alex and haul him in for a tight hug and God knows what else. How was it possible to long so deeply, so overwhelmingly, for another person? How was it possible to need somebody so desperately? Not just in a physical manner, but also emotionally?

“It's almost midnight,” Alex pointed out.

Miles kept his eyes close, but nodded into the night. Their time was up. “We should go back inside.”

“Yes.” He let go of the rail, met Alex's eyes briefly, then followed him back towards the bar. Alex returned to his chair next to Louise, and Miles took his old seat two chairs away from him. Other people began to gather around the bar. Not long and the countdown began. Seconds ticked down. Fireworks could be heard through the open windows. Miles saw Louise giving Alex a kiss and quickly looked away.

'Happy New Year,” his bored and lonely mind chimed in. “And if he were mine, better fucking believe he would be grasping for air right now.”

Valentine's Day

“Dear Friend, I know this day is meant for lovers, but I consider us lovers of a different kind. We share a mind. May these flowers find you well. Love, Alexa.”

Miles chuckled as he read the card. Hers, as always, was much classier than the one he'd sent her. His was the humorous kind. Instead of flowers, he'd gotten her a selection of sweets, which he knew she loved.

“A girlfriend?” Pauline, his mother, smiled cheekily as she made her way towards her dining room table upon which Miles had placed the flowers. “Do I know her?”

“A friend. And yes, you do. It's Alexa.”

“Oh, how disappointing. Well, not that, but here I had hoped you would found yourself a date for tonight.”

“Mother,” said Miles, giving her a tone of complete annoyance and utter disapproval, a tone he had perfected when he'd been a teenager. A tone that expressed his displeasure at the idea of his mother being noisy, a tone that professed gratitude for her general interest in his life but at the same time conveyed a warning not to show too much interest for she may not like what she'd find. A tone that said, 'mother, I love you dearly, but please, bugger off.'

Pauline understood it perfectly. “Here's your mail, sweetheart.”

Miles quickly flipped through the letters that had arrived for him since the last time he'd been here. Even though his official address had him residing in London, some wayward correspondence still made its way to his hometown. But between the occasional fan letter, some ads and a bunch of invitations, the stack of mail held not what Miles was hoping for ever since Alex had told him about his letter-writing habit.

He sat down, pushed the mail away, and returned to the emails he was catching up on.

“Oh, for heaven's sake. That's it,” said his mother, took the iPad away from him and sat down. “I've had it with you, son. Tell me what's going on or I will call Alex and make him tell me! You know I will!”

Miles's eyes went wide. “Say what now?”

“The Miles that I remember wasn't so gloomy and sad all the time. I admit I don't see you as often as I used to, anymore. Touring and all that – don't get me wrong, I'm quite happy for you and very proud! But you used to come here, happy and carefree. Now you spend your free time staring out the window as though you're waiting for Christ's return!”

He scoffed. “That's not what I'm doing, mom.”

“I know that. But it sure looks like it. And I'm telling you, that's enough. I mean it. Tell me what's causing you sorrow!”

He gave her a reluctant look, but, maybe she was right. Maybe it was time he spilled his heart to somebody? Maybe it was time for a different perspective? And his mother would offer a solution, of that he had no doubt. It was the part before that, the admitting-to-what-he-had-done, which was troubling him. “What if you don't like what I'm about to tell you?”

“Miles, you quit school and told me you wanted to become a rockstar when you were a teenager. I honestly don't believe it can be worse than that!”

He couldn't help but smile. “Love you, mom. But this one's a bit of a different problem.”

“Miles,” she warned.

And he understood perfectly. “Alright.” For a moment he considered his words. He sat up a bit straighter, attempted to appear not quite as lost as he felt, and began. “There's this person.” For now he went with vague descriptions. He wasn't yet sure just how much he was willing to share. “This person and I...we've known each other for a long while now an—”

“So this is about Alex,” concluded Pauline.

“No,” said Miles. “I didn't say that!”

“That boy used to come here as often as you did. Now it's been over a year since he last placed his muddy boots on my perfectly clean carpet. And even when he was here, the last few times, things weren't as they used to. The both of you used to be glued to the hip together. I swear, last time I saw you two, you religiously avoided touching each other! Start again, dear. And don't be shy with the details! Come now, what happened? Did you fall for the same girl?”

Involuntary laughter escaped him. “Oh, if only.” Seeing the wish to help on his mother's face made him falter and relent. “We had sex,” Miles blurted out.

“You and the girl?”

“No, mom. Me and Alex.”

“And?”

Had she understood what he had just admitted to? “Me and Alex, mom. There's no girl involved. Alex Turner and I, we had sex. With each other.”

“I got that part,” she dryly let him know. “I'm not stupid. I know what sex is. Was is bad? Is that what happened? I presume he was the first man you spent a night with? I've never seen you show any sort of romantic interest for any other man. So if this was the first time, maybe the two of you didn't do it right?”

He wanted to say something, but for the life of all that was holy to him, he couldn't form a single sentence. He had just told his mother that her supposedly straight son had slept with his male best friend. Instead of asking what he assumed was the world's most obvious question, she was worried that they had struggled with the mere mechanics of it? “That's...we...uh—”

“Words, dear. Use them. I can't yet read your mind.”

Miles shook his head in disbelief. “It wasn't bad, mom. That's not the issue. It was quite the opposite, to be perfectly honest. If anything, that's the issue! No, it's...the issue is that I've...” The words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell her, but that meant saying them out loud. Which, in return, made all of it that much more real and tragic. And once they were out in the open, he could never unsay them. They became a fact. Undeniable. But when she reached for his hand, he closed his eyes. And gave up. “I'm in love with him. Imagine that, mom. I've fallen hopelessly in love with my best friend. Now what?”

“Now you let me hug you,” said Pauline, got up, pulled Miles out if his chair and squeezed him tightly against her.

He loved her more than ever in this moment. She was his rock, his unshakable foundation.

She pecked his forehead, smiled warmly at him and sat back down. “Now tell me about that night and why the two of you are no longer speaking.”

“Because he's not in love with me,” said Miles and shrugged, helpless and out of answers. “Not even a little bit.” And it sucked, be to honest. “But that's okay. I can handle that. I'm trying to figure out how to handle it,” he admitted. “Alex – you know him, mom. He's bad when you confront him about his feelings. What we did, it freaked him out. He couldn't even stay around to look at me afterwards. And now he won't talk to me. All he says is that he's struggling to find the right words. But that's not even what I want. I need him to tell me that he regrets it. I need to hear it from him. To move on. And I need him to tell me that he can still be my friend.”

“Are you sure he regrets is, sweetheart? Because I always had the feeling that—”

“He walked out, in the middle of the night. Grabbed his stuff and just left. Not even a note. It happened last September. We have spoken exactly twice since that night. Trust me, I know he regrets it. He just doesn't want to tell me. But we're stuck. We need to talk about it.”

“Miles, I know it sucks to be in love with someone who doesn't love you back in the same way. But you can't wait for him to invite you back into his life. Alex is a very complicated man and you know that. If he feels as you say he does, he'll never find the right words to break your heart, because those don't exist. Only he doesn't know that and so he'll spend the rest of his days searching for them. It's a never ending spiral. Ha! Funny,” she suddenly said, smiling. “I just quoted one of your songs!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well done, mother.”

“Oh, stop it. What I mean to tell you is this: If you want Alex back in your life, and you can be okay with having him back in your life as just as friend, then you need to let him know that you're fine and that you can handle that. You need to let him know that his words won't make you leave him for good.”

He thought about it. As always, his mother had valid points. Back in that dimly lit hallway in Paris, Alex had told him that he'd never wanted to hurt him. It wouldn't surprise Miles if Alex was trying to figure out a way to break his heart without breaking it, which was impossible but 'impossible' was a term that Alex considered stupid. “So I should go to him?”

“That's what I would do. Tell him how you feel and tell him that, regardless of it all, you want him in your life as a friend. And if he doesn't want that, you need to know that as well. Whatever his reply may be, I know you can handle it.”

“I'll consider it. Thanks, mom.” He reached for his iPad, got back to the emails, but his mind lingered on her advice. If he did go to Alex, what would he tell him? Should he tell him everything? Or just tell him that it was time for them to move on? Would they have to discuss what had happened or merely agree never to mention it again?

“Out of curiosity,” wondered Pauline, “is Alex a good kisser?”

“Mother!” He wondered if all mothers were this nosy or if it was a unique trait of hers. He groaned when he noticed her eyes drilling a hole into his scull, as if trying to read his mind. “Oh if you must know, yes! He's a bloody amazing kisser! Can we please change the subject?”

“Fine,” she agreed. “So, does all of this mean that you're gay now?”

He grabbed the iPad and walked away. “Unbelievable!”

Here’s a little spoiler for the next part. ;)

“Don't!” Warned Alex sternly, even pointing a finger at him. His voice turned angry. “That's not— We're not at a point in our relationship where we do that!”

“Do what?”

“Fucking flirt!”

#the briefest kiss #miles fanfic #milex fanfiction #milex #miles kane alex turner #fan fiction #fanfic

24 notes · View notes

lnc2 · 5 years

Note

Adrienette 5 is meant to be if you ask me \(☆o☆)/

“It’s weird how we’ve been friends forso long but never went through that ‘crushing’ phase.” - Adrienette

A/N: This is a gift for @thenovelartist who is not only super sweet and stupid talented and ridiculously supportive but who inspired this with her delightfully absurd tumblr post.AO3

He knew.

How he knew was irrelevant when the fact of the matterwas that he did.

Or thought he did.

There was clearly some uncertainty inthe matter but it was insignificant to Marinette when it came down to thefacts:

1. Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

That alone was a brain wreck on athought train headed down a broken track. The moment thatrevelation had been dumped on her, literally, when the stupid cat tumbled ontoher mid-transformation through an open window was one she couldn’t soon forget.

No matter how much present awkwardnessmade her wish she could.

How she’d muddled through thatparticular conversation was a miracle worthy of her miraculous itself. Only Tikki’s good fortune could take her incoherent babbling andstupefied shock and turn it into something salvageable.

Namely, a third relationshipwith the blonde idiot boy that consisted of late night post-akuma Ladybuggushing and quiet confessions about his filial insecurities. A strangeamalgamation of the two most important boys in her life wore cat ears andplayed Ultimate Mecha Strike while talking about his most recent trip to Milan.

It was… dizzying to say the least.

Made all the more so by the fact that

2. Adrien Agreste absolutely knew she wasLadybug.

She didn’t know what tipped him offexactly – after all, she wasn’t the one tripping over civilians when shede-transformed– but there was no doubt that somewhere along the way he’d foundher out.

Marinette could even pinpoint it to theday– a Thursday. A night patrol. Three weeks back.

She’d swung up beside him on an oldchurch rooftop and he’d just

melted.

A cautious, lovesick six-foot somethingpuddle of goo who could no more whisper bonne nuit, milady than handle abaton.

She’d thought it excessive at the time,a little much even for her crushing kitten, only to catch Adrien giving her thesame look– soft, heart-soul, disbelieving adoration– when she’d turnedto him in physics to ask for his notes.

Marinette wanted to scream.

Especially when it became clear to herthat

3. Adrien Agreste did not know she knew heknew she was Ladybug.

And for some guardian-level mystickwami bullshit reason he seemed determined to keep that knowledge to himself.

A decision that meant Marinette wasconstantly walking on eggshells around her classmate and partner, parsing everyglance, every double entendre, every gesture to find out just whatthe hell he was playing at.

Things were… stressful… to say theleast.

Especially on the nights when her alleycat came tumbling through her skylight to spend the evening keening and sighingover Ladybug all the while watching her from beneath lowered lashes likehe was getting away with some great secret.

Every frustrated, incredulous blush aprize he was determined to steal away. His satisfied smirk covered by forlornsighs and terrible (and it was terrible) poetry about her eyes, herhair, her smile.

“I bet you two would get along great,Mari.” He’d murmured softly as she did her best not to combust from the sheerabsurdity of it all.

That goddamn, sneaking, thieving cat.

No amount of quelling looks or snarkyreplies could shame him.

Adrien Chat Noir Agreste was determinedto play his game, whatever it was, until the end and Marinette was too goddamncurious to call him out before she’d discovered his motive.

It snuck up on her like most things hedid.

She’d been exhausted.

Two mid-day akumas and a competitiondeadline meant that by the time she stripped and scrubbed and showered she waspractically sleepwalking. When she’d climbed up from her trap door,toothbrush in mouth as she tied up her damp hair into a bedtime bun, it washardly a surprise to find Adrien lounging on her chaise, an immovable lump.

“Do I need to get you a change ofaddress card?” She garbled around her toothpaste, before walking over to thesink in the corner to spit.

“Yes,” He grunted, turning his faceaway from the cushions so he could look at her. “Make it out to Hawkmothand tell him to kiss my leather-clad ass.”

“Hmm,” She mumbled, a tired smirkpulling at the edge of her lips. “I don’t know, Agreste. Wouldn’t Ladybugbe jealous?”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t mind,”He said, smiling.

Ugh.

Marinette was too tired to handle hisbullshit. Chat Noir could be sneaky on his own time– right now all shewanted to do was sleep.

Rolling back her shoulders, she headedtowards her ladder when Adrien reached out and snatched her wrist.

“Um,” He said, avoiding her questioninglook as he stared at his fingers wrapped around her skin. Marinettewatched, confused, as red crept up his neck and ears. “You don’t think she… would she?”

What?

“What?”

“N-nothing. Never mind.” He said,releasing her to run his hand through his hair. “It was stupid.”

If it was as she suspected and it wasan aborted attempt to fluster the hell out of her, Marinette couldn’t find itin her to disagree. Unfortunately her poor kitten looked so distraughtshe found herself unable to move away.

No rest for the righteous.

“I’ll make time for stupid,” She said,gesturing for Adrien to scootch over on the chaise.

He smiled and for once since this wholemess started he actually seemed nervous.

“It’s weird, right?” He said, hesitant. “That we’ve been… friends for so long.”

Marinette frowned. “Weird how?”

“Not like that,” He said, panicking ather puckered expression. “Not weird because you’re weird oranything. Because you’re not. Weird. You– You’re perfect! No– well not no, but–”

She mercifully cut him off with a tiredlaugh and Adrien didn’t even try to hide his sheepish grin. But it gave him thecourage to continue.

“I just meant… We’ve been friends forso long and we– we’ve never gone through that phase.”

“What phase?” She asked, eyes slippingshut as she leaned back and rested her head against his shoulder. Herkitten was having issues with words tonight. She might as well get comfortable.

“You know.” He said, his fingersplucking at her own. “That ‘crushing’ phase.”

The words hung in the air for a moment–long enough for Marinette to process just what exactly her connivingpartner was getting at– before her eyes snapped open. Slowly, she pulledback so she could properly face him.

His red cheeks were like a neon sign.

A dead, dead giveaway.

“Unbelievable,” She said, stunned. “That’s what you’ve been doing?”

“Wha–”

Marinette cut off his denial before itcould start.

“It’s been weeks.” She gestured,incredulous laugh building. “You’ve been torturing me for weeksand all because you wanted to know if I liked you?”

Adrien stilled, eyes guilty wide.

Then stupid did what stupid did best

and played dumb.

“I have no idea what you’re talkingabout, Marinette.”

Oooooh she could kill him.

“You’re a dumbass and a half, minou.”She said instead. Adrien’s blinked, stunned, and she rolled hereyes. “Drop the act, Agreste. Iknow you know.”

He shifted, nervous, and looked away. “Know… what?”

“I’m Ladybug.”

The not-really-confession was easierthan she’d ever thought it’d be. Then again there weren’t any stakes whenthe confessee already knew.

And yet

“Whaaaat,” Adrien said, voice too high,too exaggerated to be genuine. “That is brand new information!”

“I hate you so much right now.”

Adrien deflated, shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

She huffed, irritation and affectionwarring within her. Ridiculous idiot boy cat.

“You’re a terrible actor, Chaton.” Shecould feel Adrien’s eyes on the side of her face.

“I’ve been in commercials,” Hesaid, indignant.

“Because running across rooftops is sucha stretch for you.”

He opened his mouth to argue beforesnapping it shut. There was no real way to argue with that.

Radiant, carefree, oblivious

Adrien.

“So… what gave me away?”

Marinette snorted.

What hadn’t given him away?

She was ready to tell him as much whenshe looked over to him and froze.

He was picking at a loose thread on thechaise’s seam. His smile was too stiff to be genuine, shoulders too rigidto be relaxed. Her kitten may be playing the cool cat but she wasn’t hispartner for nothing.

“If you really want to know,” She said,voice coming out softer than she’d intended. “It’s the way you were looking atme.”

Adrien’s bright eyes met hers andMarinette’s heart gave a tiny, traitorous flip. It had been a long time sinceshe’d seen him so… unsure.

Not fair.

“I always look at you.”

Really not fair.

“No you don’t– didn’t.” She said,shaking her head. “For all the years I tried to get you to see meI turn around one day and there you are. Seeing way more than I was reallycomfortable with. Chat eyes on display for the world.”

“I–” Adrien flushed as his voicecracked. “I do not have Chat eyes.”

The blatant lie was immediatelydisproved. Embarrassed as he was there was something so very earnestabout the way Chat had always looked at Ladybug. The way Adrienwas looking at her now.

It was enough to make a superheroineswoon.

Marinette shakily raised her hand andpressed his nose only for Adrien’s eyes to cross following her movement.

She smiled.

“Chat eyes.”

Green and large and wanting. Bright with hope and confusion and all the little secrets eyes sharedwhen lips stayed shut.

It was her turn to look away, heatflaring up her arms and chest like a sunburn.

Really, really not fair.

“So you knew this whole time?” Heasked, flopping back to lay beside her. “And you just let me make a foolof myself?”

“Honestly I just wanted to see how faryou would take it,” She shoved her elbow into his side. “Turns out prettyfar.”

“Marineeeeette,” He whined. “I said somuch embarassing stuff.”

Adrien’s head fell against hershoulder, his hair tickling underneath her chin. She laughed but didn’t try toshove him off.

“You did that to yourself.”

“I just wanted to know if you likedme.”

She practically choked on her laugh,sending her into a wild coughing fit that had Adrien patting uselessly at herside.

“You– you’re kidding me right?” Shefinally managed, eyes watery as she waved off his hand. “Pleasetell me you’re kidding.”

“Uh… no?” Registering her blatantdisbelief he rushed on. “I knew you liked someone but you’d neverreally let me in as Chat and as Adrien I knew a ton of people were alreadythrowing themselves at you.”

Marinette stared.

How was it possible they’d managed to hold offHawkmoth for so long when her partner was such an oblivious moron?

“I don’t know whether to laugh or tocry right now, Agreste. Wasn’t homeschool supposed to make you smart?”

“Wait–” He said, voice cracking. “So– so it was me?”

“Despite my better judgment yesyou dork.”

“But–” He was facing her fully now,body practically vibrating beside her. “Why didn’t you sayanything?

She threw up her hands, flailing. “I can’t believe you didn’t know!”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?” Hesquawked, flailing right back.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the blushing,the stammering, your pictures plastered all over my goddamn wall–”

“You said it was because you likedfashion!” He said hotly.

Unbelievable.

“I kissed you, Adrien.”

“On the cheek!”

Marinette sighed, rubbing her foreheadto stave off the headache that was this conversation. “Do you go aroundkissing Nino’s cheek?”

“That’s not– but… but the Internet.”He sputtered, scandalized. How could he have missed this? “It said… you kissed me on the cheek, Marinette. I thoughtthat meant we were friends.”

“We’re French, Adrien. We’re not stupid.”

Or at least she wasn’t.

She was starting to have some seriousdoubts about her partner.

“What idiot have you been takinglessons from?”

“Pinterest!” He shouted, mortified. Hislady had liked him and he’d somehow missed it?

Marinette blinked, his franticconfession hanging in the air between them like a hangman’s noose to hisdignity.

And as there really was nothingfor it–

She laughed.

Gut-aching, chaise-shaking screechesthat resulted in her falling over the side and onto the floor. Adistraction that sobered her for a moment until she caught sight of Adrien’sdeer-headlight horrified red-cheeked pout and sent her back into another fit ofhysterics.

It was only when the hiccups startedthat she managed to calm down enough to reach out for him, grabbing his arm totug him down to the floor beside her, unable to keep stifle the occasionalgiggle.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said,petulantly.

Marinette rolled her eyes but couldn’thold back her grin. “Yes it was.”

Adrien shifted beside her, glancing toand away with heated cheeks and nervous hands. Embarrassed as he was, hecouldn’t hide the tentatively hopeful smile threatening to break out.

Really, really, really not fair.

How could she not answer thequestion he wouldn’t ask?

Slowly, Marinette reached up to cup hisface, bringing him down enough so their gazes were level.

“But just so it’s clear, minou,” Shemurmured, watching his eyes dilate as she leaned forward to brush her lipsagainst his. “I like you.”

He whimpered as she pulled away, toolittle, too brief, too cute.

“Okay?”

Marinette tried to lean away only forAdrien’s hands to grip her upper arms. Her heart stuttered as his thumbsran circles over her skin.

“I don’t know,” He managed,crush-dazed. “I’m pretty dense, my lady. M-maybe you should show meagain?”

And because she was such a goodpartner

she did.

#the look before you reblog drabble series #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #post reveal pre relationship #thenovelartist #sacrificialpiccolo #this was supposed to be a joke #ladynoir #idk even know what this is but it exists now so take it #lnc2 writes

1K notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

It’s Not Love, It’s Mistletoe (Two)

PART THREE

*********************

Holiday season meant movie night was every night, Tony picking out a different holiday themed film each time and making absurd amounts of popcorn before hurrying everyone into the living room.

Movie night was also mandatory so as much as Steve wanted to just stay in his room and hide away the entire time, everyone would notice that he was gone and then he’d have to answer awkward questions about why he was avoiding the team.

Those were questions he didn’t want to answer, so Steve dragged himself out of his room and down the stairs, standing outside the living room doors until the lights were off and the movie had started, taking advantage of the dark to try and slink un-noticed towards the couch in the back.

There was Natasha and Clint, curled up together in the recliner, Natasha already dozing off in her husband’s arms. Tony and Bucky of course, laying all over each other like they usually did, Tony giggling over the movie and shoving snacks into his mouth.

Colonel Rhodes was dating the always prim and proper Ms. Potts, and Steve smiled a little when he saw them sitting with just their pinkies hooked.

Bruce and Sam were on the floor, Bruce ignoring the movie to study his tablet, Sam peeking over Bruce’s shoulder in between texting whoever he was trying to get under the mistletoe before Christmas.

And there was Thor, taking up most of the love seat in the back corner, a thick arm thrown over the back, legs spread so there was hardly any room for anyone else to sit, and Steve-- Steve wanted very badly to go and curl up in the giant’s lap, but he definitely wasn’t going to--

“Ack!” he startled when a big hand snagged his belt and hauled him back onto the love seat, and he ended up plopped right next to Thor, arms and shoulders brushing, thighs wedged tight against one another.

“Steven.” Christ, Thor’s voice rumbled even when he was whispering, and Steve was grateful for the dark as he felt a blush spread up and over his face. “I was starting to think you were going to skip the movie as well.”

“A-as well?”

“You weren’t here for dinner.” Thor reminded him. “And you weren’t here to welcome me back when I first arrived.”

“I was um--” Steve cleared his throat. “I was just in my room. Busy. Dinner completely slipped my mind.”

“I see.”

“SHHHH!” Tony popped up and sent them a frosty glare, one finger held in front of his lips warningly, and even though Thor laughed quietly over it, Steve scrunched down in embarrassment..

He was being ridiculous-- ridiculous-- and he knew it but he had all but bolted from the kitchen after Tony and Bucky had left, dashing for his room and hiding away, not quite ready to face Thor and whatever the feelings were that he absolutely wasn’t having regarding the Thunder god.

Steve had just needed a few minutes to gather himself, that was all. A few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe half the day, who was counting?

And he was here now, wasn’t he? Present and accounted for, ready to watch the rest of the movie with the team, ready to spend time with Thor just like he always did.

“I was waiting for you at dinner, waited for you when Sam made dessert.” Thor whispered after a moment, and Steve tried not to jump when a big hand landed on his knee. “You haven’t been avoiding me, have you? Hiding in your room so you wouldn’t have to see me? I think that would hurt my feelings.”

“Why would I be avoiding you?” Steve made the best attempt of his life to sound casual. “I was just busy. Doing normal things. Normal, busy things. I was-- you know what I was doing? I was running. And then...then napping after the run. That’s all.”

“Hm. Running.” Circles now, working higher and higher on Steve’s leg until Thor’s hand was almost to his thigh. “Sergeant Barnes said he thought you were working on your art.”

“Sergeant Barnes is a damn liar.” Steve muttered. “Needs to keep his mouth shut.”

Thor chuckled and slouched further down in the couch so they were pressed even tighter together. “And tonight, Steven? Are you busy tonight? With running or napping or art or anything else?”

“No!” Steve blurted, and wanted to die when Tony whipped around and shhhh’d at him again. “No.” he said, quieter this time. “No, I’m not busy. I’m not doing anything. Are-- Are you busy?”

“I need to unpack.” The words were deceptively mild. “I am staying for a while this time, and if all goes well I might stay longer, so I need to settle in.” A pause. “You will help me with that.”

There it was, that edge to Thor’s voice that made a simple sentence a command, twisting in Steve’s stomach and heating his entire body until he could barely breathe, gasping out a nearly inaudible “yes.”

“Good.” the flickering light from the television caught Thor’s grin and Steve thought he melted a little bit inside. “Once the movie is over and Anthony won’t be angry at us, you will come to my room?”

Another, nearly inaudible. “Yes.”

“Excellent.”

For all that Thor was relaxed into the cushions, Steve was stiff as a board, every sense tuned into the minute movements of Thor’s hand on his thigh, to the way the giant shifted and breathed and every time those blue eyes looked his way.

And then Thor, “I have something for you to wear tonight, something that can prolong the pleasure between us, if you are amenable.” Steve stayed silent and Thor added, “Have you ever worn a cock ring before, Steven?”

*****************

From Tony: I’d like to officially state for the record that while I am annoyed that The Blondes interrupted my movie to leave, I am relieved that whatever Thor was doing that had Steve making That Noise is now happening in Thor’s bedroom and not on my couch.

From Bucky: I’d like to second that, because I’ve known Stevie since we were kids and I’ve never heard That Noise before and I never want to hear it again.

From Sam: Frosty, this may or may not shock you but I have heard you make That Exact Noise more than once, usually when you and Tony are “working” in the lab and forget to lock the door.

From Bucky: That’s a damn lie, shut your mouth.

From Tony: Baby, it’s really not a lie. I can show you the recording if you want.

From Bucky: Wait you record us? Are you serious?

From Tony:... this is a weird time to discuss it, but yeah, JARVIS is always recording my lab. Is that an issue? I can turn the cameras off next time.

From Bucky: Holy shit, can we please watch one?

From Tony: Oh HELL yes.

From Clint: Alright, well all conversations about Tony video taping sexy times and who makes what awkward noises aside, everyone saw that right? Like, Captain Spangleberry shows up late, Thor basically snatches him down onto the couch and no less than half an hour later, That Noise happens and they just up and leave?

From Natasha: We all saw it, my love. I’d like to point out for the record that it has been a long time since you snatched me onto a couch and got a Noise like That out of me.

From Clint: Noted. Will be fixed soon.

From Sam: Aw matrimony is adorable. Anyway, who wants to make a bet that Big and Blonde and Not-As-Big-And-Blonde are already naked?

From Natasha: I’ll take that bet. How long’s it been, four and a half minutes since they left? Tony get JARVIS to check the cameras.

From Bruce: This is terrible and creepy. We are not checking the cameras to see which of our teammates are currently naked.

From Tony: New Bet. I got fifty bucks that says Steve won’t be able to sit down tomorrow morning. Any takers?

From Natasha: I’m in

From Sam: I’m in.

From Clint: I’m in.

From Bucky: I’m in.

From Bruce: I need new friends.

******************

The cock ring was beautiful, outrageously ornate just like everything else made in Asgard and if Steve would have been able to form a coherent thought, he might have blushed over good the gold looked against his skin, sapphires gleaming out from between his thighs, the way it made his cock look longer somehow and how it emphasized how thick he was all while making him feel just downright gorgeous. Somehow delicate and definitely gorgeous.

It was a good look, and if Steve would have able to form a coherent thought, he might have commented on it, would have appreciated that Thor had obviously picked one out that complemented his skin tone and his eyes.

As it was though, Steve was currently drooling into the pillow, limp on the bed and damn near unresponsive, six ways past fucked silly and not even close to telling Thor to stop.

No, not when Thor was close to finishing inside him for a third time, when that thick cock was drilling into him over and over, not when he was still hard and throbbing against that damnable ring, soaking the bedspread with a constant pulse of pre-come, moaning incoherently every time Thor bottomed out inside him.

“Beautiful.” Thor rasped, working a hand between Steve’s legs to the ring tight around the base of his cock. “Gods, you are beautiful. Are you desperate to come yet, my love?’

My love. The words punched Steve’s arousal up even higher, even as he told himself that it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, it didn't mean anything but just like that, the cock ring that had seemed like a fun idea was suddenly the worst idea ever, because yes, hearing Thor call him my love had him desperate to come, pleasure building so sharply that Steve hurt with it.

“Answer me.” Thor ordered, his deep voice a balm to Steve’s overwhelmed senses. “Answer me, Steven.”

Steve shuddered through a ragged breath, focused on the feel of Thor in him, around him, and whispered, “Yes, yes please, I’m desperate, Thor I’m desperate.”

“Come then, my love.” There it was again, two simple words and yet it was all Steve could hear, so loud in his heart and mind that he barely registered Thor’s fingers releasing the catch on the cock ring, and then he was washed out in pure pleasure, muscles going slack as he finally spilled onto the quilt, managing nothing more than a weak cry as he gave in.

Thor followed him over the edge just a minute later, pulsing thick and deep inside Steve’s body until he was overflowing with it all, groaning over the pressure, flushing red as it dripped down his thighs and added to the mess on the bedspread.

Steve’s fingers were weak as they curled around a pillow, his breathing shallow as he wavered on the edge of passing out, and when Thor finally pulled free of him, collapsing onto the bed with a satisfied groan, Steve’s legs trembled from his toes clear to his thighs.

A heavy hand landed on his lower back, rubbing circles into the over-sensitive skin and digging in to soothe the muscles that were already starting to ache from the last several hours, and would no doubt be sore tomorrow.

“I’ve missed you.” Thor said after a few minutes of gentle massage and Steve closed his eyes tight against the rush of longing that ran through him. “I’m pleased to be home to the Tower for a while. We will have more than a single night together at a time, hm?”

A nod, just barely, more of a twitch against the pillow than anything.

“You are quiet.” Thor continued when Steve didn’t say anything. “You’ve been quiet all evening. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” It took all of Steve’s strength just to say those two words, and as much as he wanted to roll over and kiss Thor, he was just too far gone to attempt a movement. “I’m fine.”

“Then stay.” Thor budged up against Steve’s side, placing a light kiss between his shoulder blades. “Stay with me until morning.”

Stay? Steve’s heart clenched in his chest, but he kept his tone light when he said, “I need some time before I’m ready to go again, Thor. An hour at least. Sorry.”

“I would have you again in an hour if that’s what you wanted, but that’s not what I meant.” Thor rummaged behind him for the towel on the end table and pushed it beneath Steve’s stomach to cover the wet spot. “I simply want you to stay with me. Tonight. In my room and in my bed. I’d like to hold you until morning.”

“Um--” Steve did roll over then , glancing up and over Thor’s shoulder to the mistletoe that had been hung above the bed. It was Tony’s work of course, thoroughly believing that every room should have the damn plant in it for the season, and seeing the festive plant gave Steve a measure of courage. “Sure. I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful.” A much gentler kiss than they normally shared, Thor’s usual dominance slipping into something soft and tender. “Thank you, Steven.”

Steve snuggled close when Thor reached for him, closed his eyes when the lights shut off and the blankets were pulled up to his shoulders.

It's not love, it's just the mistletoe. He told himself firmly when Thor kissed the back of his neck and held him tight as they dropped off to sleep.

It’s not love, it’s just mistletoe. This is fine.

**************************

#ncts fics #thundershield #winteriron #thor #steve rogers #tony stark #bucky barnes #text messages #christmas

178 notes · View notes

akaherosandwich · 5 years

Text

aka; for your eyes only

To say that Jess had just woken up would be a lie.

Yes, she was just now getting up in the middle of the night, but like most other nights, she’d spent half of the twilight hours closing her eyes and trying to get whatever sleep she could. The other half she spent staring alternately at Luke and at the wall as she contemplated whether to turn over again, to get up to go to the bathroom, or go sit on the couch and watch television, use her laptop, or do anything really to distract her from the fact that she couldn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the baby was awake with her, sometimes not.

To say that she’d just woken up would be a lie, but it’s a lie she told Luke often in the middle of the night as he was awoken by the sudden absence of her weight in bed. (And Jessica was still learning to share, as she was so accustomed to spreading her limbs in every direction.)

“It’s fine, I just have to pee. Go back to sleep,” she muttered as she sat up slowly. Jessica waited until Luke put his head back down on the pillow and mumbled something incoherent at her.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered back as she lumbered out into the hall of their little townhouse apartment. Apart from the creak of wood beneath her feet, it was eerily quiet here.

Her eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness already, navigating her way to the kitchen, led by the glow of the digital clock face. Jessica somewhat clumsily opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of pulp-free lemonade (she’d been very specific about no pulp), taking a drink straight from the container. She left the container on the counter and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s always something with you, huh?” she muttered, head hung downward at her taut, rounded stomach. The baby was lazily active tonight, meaning Jessica was wide awake whether she wanted to be or not. “Is this practice? For when you’re here?” She drummed a few fingers on the side of her belly and then sighed. “Punishment for not having a third taco tonight? Punishment for having tacos in the first place? C’mon, work with me here.”

It was still difficult for Jessica to really personify the baby growing inside of her. Luke had no problem with it, on the other hand, making Jess secretly worry she was already failing as a mother. Was she not loving the kid enough? Luke had all of the sweetest words and the most gentle touches for the child, and by proxy, Jessica, when all she had was profanity and the occasional prodding at her swollen midsection. Mother of the year award, right there.

Jessica blinked at the glowing numbers on the clock. It was ass o’clock as far as she was concerned- she’d rather be asleep with Luke, making it awkward to try to spoon comfortably. But here she was. Should she be making an attempt to bond with the kid?

She left the lemonade open in the kitchen as she shuffled out to the couch. Her laptop was on the coffee table, so she lowered herself carefully and grabbed the device. Jess swung the screen open and winced at the brightness of it. After a moment to readjust, she moused around on her desktop for a bit, opening and closing her internet browser several times with disinterest. “Bonding time, right. Can’t wake Luke,” she mumbled, reluctantly opening her webcam app.

Jess dug her fingernails into the tape covering the laptop’s camera- a precaution she’d taken the day she brought the device home- and pulled off the paper covering protecting her from unwarranted hackers peeping through. She frowned almost immediately at her digitized reflection. “Ugh, Christ.” She ran her fingers through her hair but quickly gave up the effort. She turned on the dim lamp nearby and that was about as good as it was going to get.

Putting the laptop back on the table, she leaned forward and pressed the red recording circle, waiting for the timer to tick upwards while she stared blankly at the camera. Jessica opened her mouth, paused, and then closed her mouth again. “Ah, fuck,” she finally muttered. “Great start, huh? You’re not getting this video until you’re much older.”

She cleared her throat and tried to make eye contact with the small lens of the web camera. It was difficult- she looked like shit and honestly, Jessica didn’t know why she was doing this.

“Okay, clearly it’s late, and I’m not doing my best thinking,” she explained. Jessica defensively put her hands on her stomach. “But yeah, that’s you. In there- in here. Being an absolute little shit-kicker and keeping me up til three in the morning. But you’re up too, so I figure... this is our time together. Luke- your dad- is still asleep. So we’ll give him that.”

Jess didn’t know why she felt so stupid- maybe it was because she was talking to her laptop in hopes that she’d say something profound for her baby when they eventually saw this video in 10+ years? Oh yeah, that’s why she felt stupid. But once she started talking, she couldn’t stop.

“I am... not ready to be your mom. Not in the slightest. But your dad? He’s been ready since the day we met. You know, he swears you’re a girl. Won’t let the doctors tell us, because he knows he’s right. Would put money down in Vegas on it,” she said, cracking a meek smile. “I know it sounds stupid, but... I had a dream the other night and I saw you. You’re definitely our little girl. Don’t know if that was you reaching out to me, or just another ridiculous pregnancy dream. My hormones are outta control, so it could honestly be either. I mean, in fairness, I had a really crazy dream about Daniel Dae Kim the other night...”

She shook her head.

“Never mind. Anyways. A daughter. That’s... well, it’s terrifying. The world isn’t a nice place to little girls, but if Luke and I do our jobs right, you’ll never know it. You’ve got the two toughest parents on this planet. Your daddy’s a superhero, and I’m... Well, your momma’s doing what she can. To put things back in their place, make sure it’s safe.”

Jess shifted somewhat, compensating for a twinge in her back. “Look. I’ve been a lot of things, done a lot of things with my life. Lots of that was mistakes. Hell, I’m still going to make mistakes, I think that’s a given. But if you never have to know the things I’ve been through, then maybe I’m doing something right,” she explained.

“But you.. we don’t have a name for you yet, so I’m doing my best here. You, above anything else in my life... You were my choice. And trust me, I had a choice. Quite a few. Being a coward sounded like the easiest one. But you are the first thing in my life I got to choose for myself. I mean, I chose your dad too, but that whole situation was a bit of a mess there... We’re good now, though. Don’t worry. Obviously we are, or else I wouldn’t be here doing this.”

Jessica cleared her throat. This would have been much easier with a drink to loosen her tongue. But that was another choice she was making, to make this thing work. “Anyways. You. My daughter. My special choice. It still doesn’t feel real yet- I mean, you feel real. Right on top of my bladder, that’s definitely real, and if you kick me and we have an accident then I’m just deleting this whole tape right now, so just give me this,” she warned. “I’ve always said that knowing something is real means you gotta make a decision. One, keep denying it. Or two... do something about it. That’s you. You’re that something.”

She leaned back a bit and lifted her shirt to expose her stomach. Jessica hoped that the low, rolling kicks across her abdomen could be picked up in the dim light. “Look, baby girl. It’s pretty obvious I’m not good at this whole talking thing, and I’m tired as hell and kinda losing this wave of focus. Just another joy of this choice I made. But I don’t regret it, not for a moment. You’re the choice I made and I’m sticking with it. I promise, I’m going to do everything I can to protect you. To give you the good things you deserve. Not everyone gets that, but I’m going to try. And so’s your dad. And your aunts, Carol and Trish. My best friends. And then there’s uncle Danny and uncle Matt- I didn’t run that one by them, but I can’t imagine they’d say no,” she shrugged.

“All I can say is that you’re loved, baby girl. And you’re not alone, ‘kay? I will drop everything for you, always. Because above anything and anyone else, you’re my choice.”

Jessica paused, trying to process those last words. They felt like the right thing to say- because they were true. But at 3am, it felt a little weird to say those things out loud in the dark. Jess wished someone had said those things to her, y’know, before she got left alone and orphaned. But now... she wasn’t alone either.

“Ah, fuck,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she turned off the recording. Jess could feel salty tears pricking up in the corners of her eyes. “This is your fault,” she hissed down at her stomach. The woman dimmed the lamp again and the waddled back into the kitchen for more lemonade for her dry, warm throat. In one of the kitchen drawers, she found a roll of tape and a thumb drive.

Before returning to bed, Jessica downloaded the video, put it in an envelope that she marked “Baby Girl” and stuffed in the back of the utility drawer. She then taped back over the webcam and hastily deleted the file from her laptop. Luke’s voice came from the bedroom softly at first, then again louder.

“Babe? Did you fall in?”

“Shut up,” she mumbled back. “I’ll be back in a minute. It’s not like I’m the one who chose to be awake at this ungodly hour.” Jess rubbed a gentle circle around her stomach.

“Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

#foundoutthehardway #big stupid oneshot of jessica having baby feels

5 notes · View notes