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thesunshineriptide · 2 years

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COOKIE ANON HERE!!! YOU DID THE LYRICS THINGS! AND IT GAVE ME AN IDEA!!! OK HEAR ME OUT!!! Plz a headcanon or oneshot u decide!, with the boys from the group that participated in the chapter 5 music event! (Vil, Epel, Kalim, Jamil, Rook, Deuce and Ace), reacting to Mc singing "This Is Me" from The Greatest Showman musical, in a big event against RSA and...THEY WIN! NRC finally win something against their rival school! -MUSICAL FANATIC NOISES- I feel that 'This Is Me' song suits the NRC, and MC in general, and is a song with a beautiful universal message behind it! eat dust Neige!!!...just kidding I love you Neige! Ooh boy, thanks for your attention and patience, cookie?🍪

Hey cookie anon! Welcome back. I can’t say I enjoyed the greatest showman, however I do know what it’s like to connect with a song in the way you seemed to, so I’m glad to write this for you /gen

NRC wins the SDC

Characters: Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jamil, Kalim, Rook, Vil, Yuu/reader

Cw// major spoilers for chapter five, Vil’s overblot, etc. also tw for the greatest showman

- it seemed that you, Ace, and deuce all made it past auditions! Congrats! Now you’re officially on team oh-dear-lord-Vil’s-terrifyingly-good

- Since you’re on the team, you can’t exactly deny when Crowley and Vil ask ever so nicely to use ramshackle dorm as training grounds for your team.

- For a while, training goes fairly smoothly. Sure, everyone’s stressed and at each other’s throats, sure the sudden change in everyone’s routine is bad since literally ZERO people on that team are neurotypical, but so far there aren’t any crises

- Well, until Epel and Deuce go for a scream at the beach and overhear some RSA students gloating about Neige’s performance.

- Apparently, it’s incredibly sweet and wholesome and intended to be family friendly, and they’re quite confident that it’s the play that will win

- Epel and Deuce came back that night, and after some heartfelt apologies and a bit of confrontation, they finally remember to tell Vil about what they’d heard.

- Vil is silent for a moment, then mutters, “We’ve been outplayed. We…we still have time to change it, though. Anyone got any ideas?”

- You, the precious little human from a different world, raise your hand.*

- “There’s this song that was popular a while back. Nobody in this world has ever heard it, but…I think it’s easy enough to learn. I know all the words, we could throw it together pretty fast.

- Vil immediately wants to shut it down - it’s artistic integrity, if nobody knows it, they’ll think he wrote it, and that isn’t beautiful, is it? But you insist, and.

- Well, you sing the song for him.

- He’s clearly thinking. Your idiot duo and Rook are all hyping you up, latched onto the song pretty fast (Epel is just excited to get out of dancing. He fails to realize he will, in fact, still be dancing)

- Vil finally relents, and decides this would be the best move. It’ll be quick, easy, and fun! And family friendly

- So, over the next week, you teach everyone the words to certain parts, and vil the main line. He reworks some choreography, and by the end, you seem to be polished to a shine

- Until, that is, the dress rehearsal day of, where Vil suddenly loses all his confidence and overblots

- (The overblot plays out the same as in the main timeline)

- What doesn’t stay the same, though, is that Vil is entirely too weak to sing. He won’t give up - but he can’t expend too much energy either.

- What to do, what to do…

- Well, a duet of course!

- With your friends on the backing vocals, you and Vil just need to work out who takes what lines. It turns out it’s easy - just divide it by verse and chorus.

- Vil takes the first verse and chorus in a row, then slides to the back to let you take center stage. You sing the second verse and chorus, and then everyone sings the rest of the song together. It’s actually fun, with genuine smiles and looser dancing and real, true, enthusiasm.

- Your performance stirs something in the audience. They don’t know the song - how could they? But they’re more than willing to clap and sing along to what they pick up.

- You wait patiently though every other performance, until it’s time to vote.

- You await with baited breath. Your scores are neck and neck with RSA’s for a long while, but down to the last second…

- “It’s a close call, folks, but it seems that the answers are in. By exactly one vote, the winner is…”

- “Night Raven College!”

- Everyone looks stunned before people begin to cheer wildly. RSA are even clapping and cheering along. Neige comes over and congratulates Vil, which earns him a tender smile in return.

- Deuce is completely overwhelmed. Less than a full year into attending this place, he’s already made a major accomplishment. One that hasn’t been done in a hundred years. He’s smiling and congratulating you with a hug before turning off to call his mom.

- Ace is surprised too, but not quite as sentimental as Deuce is. He’s teasing you, giving you a noogie, telling you “of course we won, we’re amazing.’

- Rook is pleasantly surprised. He didn’t vote this time, for the same reason as the last, but he is happy that they won. He’s congratulating everyone and showering them in compliments, as well as happily chatting with Neige about RSA’s performance

- Vil is trying hard not to cry, and sends watery, happy smiles to cameras nearby. He’s also gladly signing autographs for his fans, basking in the victory.

- Kalim couldn’t care less about whether they won or lost, but he’s happy since everyone else is happy! Not to mention the fact that people got to see how wicked awesome Jamil is, and that’s all he’s ever wanted for his friend

- Jamil is uncomfortable, but proud of their victory. He doesn’t like the limelight at all, but he’s not going to be rude to so many adoring people, is he?

- As for Crowley and Grim, guess what. Ramshackle’s getting a renovation! Also Crowley is very happy you managed to pull off a win and Grim is immediately begging to go to Sam’s shop and spend all the prize money on tuna.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst mc #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #twst yuu #jamil viper #kalim al asim #chapter five #chapter five spoilers

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miss-celestia13 · 2 months

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Just the banner for my final Duskwood fic. With a snippet of the smut scene that I usually post here in full after I publish the chapters. It’s so I don’t feel weird about posting just the image, lol.

A visit to Manon’s old hometown brings up some enticing questions for Jake…

“What are you thinking? You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem in your head and you’re failing,” she laughed. Her earlier stress faded away under the power of his attention as he met her venom gaze.

“I was wondering…”

His lips twitched, his hand trailing over the flare of her hip and gripping her tight, the heat of him like a branding through her clothing.

He looked at her through a fan of thick black lashes as she waited for him to elaborate.

She wasn’t very good at waiting.

Manon arched a brow and said, “Yes?” When he just kept touching and touching her.

His indigo eyes blinked and locked on her, lust threading through his irises and they were darker than they were seconds ago.

“Have you ever fucked someone here?”

Manon laughed, cackled really, “No, do you think anyone other than Steve would have made it past my dad?” With an unladylike snort, she shook her head at the mental picture of a poor, horny teen boy, rosy-cheeked and stuttering, as her dad read him his rights. She went on, “I had to fuck myself.”

Jake grinned like a devil, his heated gaze holding her in sway.

“We’re here now, and no one can stop us.”

As she smirked at him, his hands pulled her in and wound around her, heat and light glittering through her as he brushed his lips over hers. Featherlight and gentle, so at odds with how hard he gripped her hip and made her skin bloom wild with violets. She wriggled closer and laid a possessive hand on his neck.

“True,” she tilted her head, admiring the sparkle of her engagement ring as she said, “What are you waiting for?”

He instantly lunged and captured her lips in his, hungry and urgent; he kissed her until her head spun and aching want pulsing through her veins until her entire body trembled with it. Her shaking hands laced through his hair as she swung her leg over his and pressed in as close as she could.

Her blood shimmered as his wandering hand found her jaw, fingers tracing along and curling behind the bone, trailing down her neck, and wrapping around her throat to feel her pulse skittering under his tapping thumb. Her breathing quickened and slowed with the pressure of his hand as it tensed and relaxed, liquid fire pooling fast between her thighs.

There was an invisible cord of love and deep trust between them, and a heady, liberating sense of having no control that ran through her. She gladly handed herself over to him. And knew he would take care of the need rising like a tide to drown her.

She whined low in her throat as sweet desperation and nerve flaying anticipation pricked over her skin like needles as his free hand wove through her hair to pull her lips more firmly against his. His tongue slid alongside hers, bristled lips teasing and bruising her mouth as she smiled into it, greedily inhaling his arousing scent with every short breath.

The familiar catch in her chest as the heat and hardness of his firm body bled through her; it was all that mattered.

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pendingfeels · 4 months

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The Mandalorian —

Chapter Five: The Gunslinger

#the gunslinger #edit #edits #screencaps #screencap #photoshop express #the mandalorian #chapter five #star wars #Disney #din djarin #din grogu

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eryiss · 11 months

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The Liar Prince Of Fiore: Chapter Five

Summary: Laxus knew Freed better than anyone else, but everyone had secrets. With Freed's secrets laid bare. his past life of royalty, titles and expectations come back to haunt him. Laxus makes a promise to protect him. For as long as necessary, he will play the role of Freed's husband. It might have been easy, if Laxus didn't wish so much for their lie to be true.

Notes: Sorry it’s been a while, new job and fluctuating enthusiasm is tough. I’ve made some changes to how the story will progress, which I’m happy with but will make it shorter. Hope you enjoy it

Links: Ao3, Previous Chapter

Chapter Five – The Party

You could hear a pin drop.

It was a saying that was thrown around a lot, meant to signify something so shocking that silence persisted over all. Freed had long since dismissed it as hyperbole; silence didn't ever exist. There was always something to hear. The twitter of a bird, the crackle of a fire, the rush of the wind or the creak of a settling house. Silence was a fiction that Freed had never understood; the world would never be quiet so why would you tell yourself otherwise.

But, the illusion of silence was a very real thing. The muting of chatter seemed to bring silence to Freed's ears. Intellectually, he knew that there was music playing through the lacrimas, there was blood rushing through him, there was the thrumming of his heartbeat. The sound existed, and yet Freed couldn't hear it.

You could hear a pin drop.

The hand, large and warm and grounding, pressed against his back again. "Come on. Let's get it over with."

Murmured though they were, Laxus' words were enough for Freed. His posture didn't change, his eyes didn't harden, but he saw the situation for what it was. A battlefield like any other he'd been on; survival was imperative. He strode forward with a bravado that was forced, and towards the crowd of his opponents. He heard the click of Laxus' dress shoes following him, and the hand never left his back. This was combat, and Laxus his support. So long as he could see this as a mission, he could see it through to the end.

Glancing at the crowd, he saw uninhibited judgment. He expected that Albion, in all that was left of him, was a sideshow for these people. The renegade prince who ran away to the circus. A cliché, and one to be dissected. But Freed could deal with that; being backfooted by the enemy was always where Freed thrived. Underestimated and deadly.

"Good afternoon," He inclined his head, giving a slight greeting. "I do hope you haven't been waiting for us."

Nobody spoke; it was hazing of a sort. Freed and Laxus were pray, and everyone in the room was a predator. They believed that they were toying with their meat, letting them squirm for a little while before they went in for the killing blow, but Freed used it as an opportunity. He was more battle hardened, more dangerous, more deadly than any of them could believe. He could deal with them single handed.

And, rather helpfully, Freed never forgot a face.

"Lady Thorne, how long it's been since I have seen you," he said with faux delight. "And yet time has barely touched you. Gods, has it really been so long since your gardener scolded me for sneaking into your gardens?"

The wrinkled old bat apparently didn't expect him to remember her. Or perhaps she had forgotten she'd ever met him; the snotty cow had always been far too self-involved.

"Captain Gelts," He turned to a burly man, straight backed and angry looking. "How delightful it is to see you again. It's the most peculiar thing, I was thinking back to your war stories only a few weeks ago. I was speaking with members of the Rune Army – an occupational hazard, I'm afraid – and by the gods do they talk. You'd love them, I'm sure. Real men of the world."

Captain Gelts had served in the army for a week, before throwing such a tantrum he was sent home with a false title to quiet him. He had myriad war stories though, each as fictitious as the toupee on his head. Everyone knew, and Freed mentioning speaking with actual soldiers was a reminder of it.

"Mademoiselle Cooper," Freed turned to a young woman. He took her by the hand, kissed it, then glanced to the old man next to her. "We've never met, but your husband was a mainstay in my house as a child. The stories I could tell you of him would certainly… well, they'd hardly be conducive to a polite dinner."

The woman seemed nice enough, but her new husband was a creep, who went through wives like a normal man would go through toiler paper. He had nothing but money as a draw, and had a nasty habit of blackmailing his exes. Hardly conducive to polite dinner indeed.

Freed turned to address the next victim, but stumbled.

Jasper.

Whereas everyone was standing in the large reception room, he had been sitting and reading. The book snapped shut and he stood for Freed. He was aethereal in his paleness, with a main of curling red hair thick and long, resting at his waist. He had been short and scrawny as a child, but had grown in height and muscle, cutting the handsome and imposing figure. His clothes were the cutting edge of fashion, tailored to suit his form to perfection. He towered over everyone in the room – even having a few inches over Laxus, Freed would guess - and seemed entirely comfortable. The crowd parted for him, and Jasper walked to stand in front of Freed, looking down with false delight.

"Albion," He enthused. "My, look at you! I would hardly recognise you, were it not for the cutting wit of course. Gods, you did always like the cads and rogues in those books, didn't you? By the looks of it, you've become one."

The lack of subtlety in the insult was almost offensive.

"I actually no longer use the name-"

"Oh, but you wear the look so well," Jasper continued, ploughing over Freed's words without so much as wincing. He had done that in their childhood; Freed had forgotten that particular irritant. "You've become quite the dashing little sod, haven't you Albion? Filled out a lot too, assuming the shoulders of that little tux aren't padded. The renegade life you've chosen suits you. I could never have imagined the rough and ready world to become you so much."

"You flatter me," Freed said, polite instinct taking over. He tried to scold himself for falling back into old habits. "And really, I must insist that you call me-"

"Truly, my dear, you've become quite the dish," Jasper leered at him. He took another step forward, crowding Freed's space. He wanted to step back, but Laxus' warm hand steadied him. It was a silent message to say there should be no cowering: Jasper wasn't worth it. "I must admit, it makes a man wonder what I did to lose you."

Freed wished to speak, but his words caught in his throat.

A cold, overly soft hand ran fingers up his neck. It was slow, so light that it almost tickled, and the nails grazed against his Adam's apple. They took his chin and tilted it up, so that Freed was forced to meet Jasper's golden eyes. He froze, the ice of the man's grasp like a bucket of water tossed over him. His body wouldn't move, his breath stuttering panic rose. Jasper was looming over every aspect of him, crowding him and trapping him.

Warmth. Laxus' hand gently stroked Freed's back in a gesture of casual intimacy, and then left. Freed had the space to step back, take a breath, and break the contact. The lure – the trap – was broken, and Freed turned slightly.

"You should meet Laxus, my husband."

Laxus and Jasper were uninhibited as they sized one another up. Laxus looked at Jasper with an expression that Freed had never seen on him before. Freed knew when Laxus was irritated, when he was angry, when he was morally repulsed. The look he was giving Jasper was so unique that Freed couldn't look away. It was as if Laxus thought so little of him that he barely cared yet was entirely consumed with some kind of feeling towards him. Jasper himself looked at Laxus with open dismissiveness. Like a speck of dirt or something to be ignored. The thought of Laxus being perceived that way got Freed's hackles up; Laxus Dreyar was the least ignorable man Freed had ever met, and should not be the subject of derision.

The moment was over before it began, and Laxus shoved his hand out without elegance. "Laxus Dreyar."

"Jasper Battencorp," Jasper slightly huffed, taking Laxus' hand and shaking it. Whereas Laxus' grip was it's usual strength, Jasper's seemed so loose it was patronising. "Dreyar, was it? You've not taken dear Albion's surname?"

"I'm of the opinion that it's better to respect a name than to take it," Laxus snapped. "Ain't that right, Freed?"

The exaggeration put on his name brought a silly smile onto Freed's face. Jasper might be able to talk over Freed as he performed his fake-polite persona, but Laxus had no such qualms about cutting through the shit and saying what he felt. The fact he was coming to Freed's aid and defending who he really was… it was hard not to preen, even if imperceptibly so. No doubt, if Laxus still had his hand against Freed's back, Freed would be pushing up against it to get further contact with him. The warmth of him compared to the coolness of Jasper's skin was so stark, and Freed craved the former while hating the latter.

"Quite," Freed found himself saying, looking away from Laxus. When he had begun staring at him, he couldn't remember. "And if Laxus had taken my surname, he would be a Justine. The name I identify with is Freed Justine."

"Oh, I must admit that saddens me," Jasper hummed, faking sadness. "Albion Fiore was such a mellifluous treat for both the ears and the tongue. I would have been proud to take it, myself. And, for honesty's sake, this new name seems rather… bland by comparison, don't you think?"

"No." Laxus said before Freed could say anything.

Jasper ignored him entirely, turning to face Freed again, casting a shadow over him as he reached up. An ice-cold hand reached up, and a knuckle stroked down Freed's cheek. "Still, what's in a name? No matter what you call yourself, you'll always be the same man, won't you? The charming rebel who captured my heart still remains."

His hand lingered for a moment, then he stepped back, returned to his chair, and picked his book up. The music from the lacrima seemed to get louder, and with it there was chattering. Gossip and slander about the show they'd been given. Freed didn't care; he couldn't care. His face felt cold. His body felt cold. Everything felt cold.

"You alright?" Laxus voice, low and grumbling and so warm in it's tenor, went straight to Freed's gut.

"Yes," Freed lied.

"You don't look alright."

"I'm…" He wanted to lie and say he was okay, but clearly it would be for naught. Instead, he found himself repeating a mantra they'd both used on many missions. "We continue, and we survive."

Laxus frowned almost imperceptibly, his hand raised a little then faltered in an aborted movement, and then he nodded. "We do. You'll get through it."

Freed wanted to believe Laxus. He really, truly did.

——

Dinner was conducted in the dining room that, as a child, Freed had never been permitted to enter. It was an imposing sight, languishing in light from large windows with more decorations than anyone would ever need. The smell of food not yet served had permeated through the room as they had been ushered into it and Freed absently wondered if they were still employing the delightful woman who used to sneak pastries to him whenever he visited. The table dominated the space, large enough for thirty Freed would guess, and was covered with every type of cutlery one could imagine; far too much for it all to be used in a single meal.

It was obviously a test of some kind, or perhaps just passive aggression. Either Jasper wanted to know how well Laxus could function in this environment, or he had assumed Laxus would fail and wanted to watch him squirm. It wouldn't work; Laxus had done more than enough undercover missions to navigate the situation with ease.

"So, Dreyar," Gelts boomed. "What d'you do for a living?"

"I'm a working mage," Laxus said without hesitation. Freed smiled a little, glad for the lack of a lie.

"And that's steady work, is it?" The captain asked, feigning interest but setting a trap. "A good way to make your name?"

"It's as steady as any other," Laxus shrugged as the doors opened and the staff began to bring platters of food in. "And I think it's a pretty good way to live. You help people, you keep 'em safe, and you get your hands dirty. I'm sure an army man like that can appreciate that," Freed nearly snorted at the insult, but Laxus kept talking. "And you get to meet some good people. That's what I found, at least."

Laxus sent an almost private look to Freed, and for a moment Freed thought it was real. Two husbands sharing a private joke; it was entirely plausible. But it was also a lie, so Freed plastered on a false but believable smile of his own.

"How did the two of you get together," Mademoiselle Cooper, who seemed to be actually rather tolerable a woman, asked with seemingly genuine interest. "You seem such a mismatched couple, but also perfect for one another."

Freed felt a pang of hurt at that. Perfect for one another. It was hard not to feel bitter.

Laxus, as he had been the one addressed, told the story. It was mainly the truth, with a few amendments to give it a more romantic slant. In their story, Freed had been wandering the country, aimless and looking to settle, when he had happened upon Laxus. Laxus had been in the middle of a mission and was fighting a creature of some sort. He had nearly been hit by a blast of magic, but Freed had acted on instinct and created a barrier of magical energy to protect him. They had killed the creature side by side, spent the night talking by a campfire, and Laxus had invited him to come to Fairy Tail for as long as he wanted. Freed had never left.

Of course, in the story, Laxus had exaggerated just how impressed he had been with Freed. How dashing the eighteen-year-old had looked, and how handsome he seemed when casting spells. Freed smiled and laughed along as if bashful, but it only added further to the bitterness. This entirely plausible story was too close and too far.

"And your first kiss," Mademoiselle Cooper probed, seemingly entranced. Freed could understand that; Laxus had a brilliant talent for storytelling, even if he rarely utilised it. The low grumble of his voice could entrance anyone. "It must have been wonderful."

"Wonderful isn't the word I'd use," Laxus chuckled, as if rueful.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

"No. It was, erm, well, it was my first kiss," Laxus laughed a little, and Freed turned to him. That hadn't been the story they had agreed on. "I've never exactly been too interested in that part of life, y'know. Always had other things on my mind, so I never really prioritised finding someone. I don't exactly know what made me lean in, but I did. Looking back I was an awkward fumbling idiot, but I guess it worked out in the end."

Freed gave the polite laugh that was expected of him, but his eyes lingered on Laxus. Freed had never known Laxus to be with someone. Laxus had never dated anyone that Freed had seen. He'd never been shifty and weird as if hiding a partner. He'd never even had a casual fuck, not to Freed's knowledge anyway.

A buzzing started to grow behind Freed's ears.

What if Laxus truly had no interest in other people in this way. Of course, Freed knew there were people who cared not for romantic nor sexual relationships, but he had never considered Laxus might be one of them. The idea that Laxus might have agreed to enact this lie with Freed when he had no interest – or perhaps was entirely uncomfortable – with it sent a shot of guilt through Freed. Yes, Laxus had been the one to suggest he play the part, but he was the sort to put others before himself.

The spirally of his thoughts was cut off when something grazed his leg. It was the tip of a shoe, and Freed froze. It wasn't Laxus, it was whoever was sitting opposite him. He looked forward and saw Captain Gelts' son, a handsome and roughened man who actually had served in the army, grinning privately. His foot ran up and down Freed's leg slowly, maintaining eye contact. Then, with movements meant to be seductive, he leant forward, flexed a bicep under his shirtsleeve, and spoke in a private, rumbling voice.

"Quite a story you have with your husband," He commented. "It's sweet, isn't it. Makes you wonder if you're craving something more… sinful."

His grazing toe got higher, and Freed shunted himself back in his seat, just far enough away so that the man could no longer touch him. Freed looked away to break any contact, and his eyes settled on Jasper. For a moment, he saw analysis and irritation hidden in Jasper's eyes, but it died and was replaced by a small, false smile. How long had Jasper been looking at him? And, most importantly, what was he looking for?

The buzzing in Freed's ears became a ringing, deafening in its intensity.

"Hey," Laxus mumbled under his breath. He knocked a knee against Freed's below the table. The jolt of it was grounding, and Freed turned to meet his gaze. It was private, quiet and small. It was exactly what Freed needed. "Not much longer, yeah."

"I know," Freed whispered. The moment couldn't come soon enough.

——

"Oh no. Oh dear no, I can't accept this," Jasper tutted, standing at the window, pulling back one of the large curtains. "No, this is far too heavy a storm for a carriage to travel in. No, you'll all sleep here for the night while it passes."

"No," Freed said firmly before anyone else could speak.

His patience had snapped before his sanity. The rest of the dinner has been a beleaguered affair. The time between corses seemed everlasting and, while the food was admittedly good, the endless passive aggressive conversation was enough to spoil even ambrosia. It had been easy to forget just how exhausting a simple dinner could be when everyone in attendance was speaking in layers and with agendas that they didn't hide but refused to explain. Laxus had been the only person Freed hadn't needed to filter through his society speak mind, and Freed was thankful he at least had that to settle his nerves.

Not that they had time to settle. Jasper hadn't been subtle, and Freed quickly realised what the point of this dinner was. Testing the waters of Freed's 'marriage' to Laxus. Every interaction was loaded with a test of sort. He wanted to see Laxus squirm and Freed to see him in a bad light. He wanted Freed to stray with Gelt's son, assuming he would be next in line. He wanted Freed in his bed, and a wedding ring wasn't getting in his way.

A fake wedding ring, yes, but he wasn't to know. Hell, Freed had felt guilty when Gelt's son's foot had wandered up his leg.

The silver lining was that, as far as Freed could tell, Jasper hasn't doubted the validity of Freed's marriage. He was too arrogant for that; he wasn't able to think of another person long enough to consider them lying to him. No, this was territoriality mixed with a desire to be seen as in control. Jasper wanted Freed to come running back, tail between his legs so he could be bestowed with the glory of Jasper's cock. Freed was bragging rights, apparently. Which yes, did indeed lead Freed to have to fight the urge to cut the aforementioned cock off.

All of this was to say, Freed was not happy.

"Albion, I understand it's an imposition," Jasper tried to mollify, tone patronising. "But this weather-"

"My name is not Albion and the weather is entirely avoidable. You are a weather mage, cast a spell and get rid of it."

"Not all of us have chosen the same… path as you, my dear. Do you really think that I could calm this?"

"Yes."

"Is a night in my home really so bad?" Jasper hummed, stepping forward. "Times past, you might have jumped at the chance."

Freed ignored the provocative comment and stepped past Jasper and looked through the door. There was indeed a rainstorm, with the forest surrounding the house being battered by winds. Still, Freed's need to leave superseded his better sense. "We've camped in worse weather than this, we can walk. Laxus, are you ready?"

Freed stepped towards the parlour door, Laxus only then crossing the room to meet him despite having been able to hear everything. Jasper was quick to move as well, standing between them both and making it impossible to leave without pushing past him. Freed stopped, not bothering to hide the irritation that was blooming. "Now, surely the thought of my guest suite isn't that bad?"

"Move."

"Albion, I really-" The ferocity of Freed's glare must have been effective, as Jasper amended his words. "Freed, I really don't think it's safe out there. I don't know what I'd do if I let you go and found out that you were harmed, or heaven's forbid killed, because I didn't put up enough of a fight to keep you."

"You'd wring the situation out for as much sympathy as you can get, then stop pretending to care. Though-"

Laxus planted a hand on Freed's shoulder and squoze it gently, stopping Freed from releasing the tirade that had been fighting to escape for hours now. While quiet, he kept his eyes trained on Jasper as if daring him to speak, and the only reason he stopped the stare down was because Laxus turned him so they were face to face. The look of quiet worry was a balm to Freed's roaring soul, and it did a little to slow Freed's rushing pulse. He tapped his thigh in a silent cry for help, and Laxus must have seen it because he took Freed's hand and cupped it.

"We'll be fine, it's just one night," Laxus promised, and Freed found himself believing him despite everything.

"Exactly," Jasper began. "Now, I've got-"

"Could you show us to one of the rooms, please," Laxus asked of a servant, who seemed shocked to be spoken to at all. He spluttered an 'of course' before Jasper could stop him, and walked off towards the grand staircase. Laxus followed him, and Freed went to do the same. He halted when he and Jasper were side by side.

"The rooms are already prepared. How utterly convenient. You do have the greatest sense of forethought."

It was a message. Freed knew what Jasper was doing, and was telling him to stop.

After another short tour of the house, they were taken to a suite and told they hoped it suited their needs. It was a beautiful room, with all the makings of the perfect honeymoon suite. From the four poster bed to the claw bathtub in front of the lit fire, it was a room meant for seduction, and Freed couldn't help but wonder exactly what the intention behind it was. Either Jasper wanted to make use of the room himself, or simply wanted to watch Laxus and Freed fuck. Neither would happen, but Freed made his magic swell and cast a privacy rune around the room.

"Problem?" Laxus asked.

"Houses like these have crawl spaces and peep holes," Freed shucked off his jacket, tapping his fingers against a bedside table. "It's best to be sure."

"Makes sense," Laxus nodded. "You okay?"

"No. I hate this house and want out of it."

"You could teleport home," Laxus offered.

"No, I can't. If I leave he'll find an excuse to drag us back. If I endure tonight, then I can make sure he doesn't bother me," His tone was more defeated than he'd like as he slid off his tie and began stripping off his shirt. "I just want to sleep. As flawed as the man is, I can't imagine he's cheap about mattresses."

"You don't want to talk?"

"No. Not yet. Maybe once it's over," Freed shrugged, stepping out of his trousers and lifting the covers of the bed. It was crisp and well made, and the feeling of it was good against his near naked body. Even still, his fingers tapped the mattress.

Laxus didn't press him, and Freed soon heard the sound of shifting fabrics as Laxus stripped off himself. Normally, Freed would make a conceited effort not to watch as Laxus removed his clothes – seeing him in a state of undress was one thing, but watching him strip seemed more perverse – but tonight his mind was too bogged down to even consider it. His eyes were closed anyway, and the comfort of the bed was doing work in putting him to sleep. The weight of the day still hung heavy, and his mind whirled while tiredness tried to overtake it.

The mattress dipped as Laxus climbed into it. It was large enough for them not to touch, and Freed only barely felt the heat radiating from the man's body. He let the gentle rocking shift him as Laxus got himself comfortable, and felt the nagging sense of heavy eyes on the back of his head. Laxus was watching him.

He was judging him, no doubt. Freed's past life was one thing when it was all up to Laxus' imagination, it was another thing when he was presented with it. What Laxus must be thinking, Freed couldn't tell, but it wouldn't be good.

Another thing Jasper had ruined. The tapping increased.

Just as that now familiar sense of dread began to seep in, the bed shifted again. Freed didn't think anything of it until a strong arm wrapped tight around his torso, pulling him up against Laxus' chest. Freed frowned, looking at the arm for a baffled moment, before Laxus relaxed, holding Freed in what could only be described as a cuddle.

"Laxus?"

"You're stressed, you're spiralling, and you don't have your violin," Laxus grumbled, his voice tickling Freed's ear. It was soft and intimate and almost too much. "This is the best I can do for you right now. It ain't enough, but it's the best I've got so let it happen."

He should have fought the notion, but he was so tired and Laxus was so warm. His fight left him, his body relaxed, and he allowed himself the indulgence. Just this once, he’d be selfish. Just now.

#Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #multi chapter #canon divergent #fake relationship #friends to lovers #prince au #Chapter Five

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appalachianapologies · 15 days

Text

Remittent Distress

Chapter Five: Persistent

Fic Summary:

After years of being on the run and keeping his head down, Mac finally receives the opportunity to end this screwed up game of hide-and-seek for good. With the help of two unlikely friends, some unconventional skill sets, and plenty of all-nighters, Mac attempts to track down his father before James gets to him first. It's been six months since an ordinary mission turned to hell, leaving its permanent marks on Jack Dalton—both physically and emotionally. But when information about a wild kid he came across four months ago gets dropped into his lap, he has to push it all down in order to find not just the kid, but the truth behind him as well.

Chapter Summary:

Mac, Riley, and Bozer begin the tense drive up to Mission City. At the same time, Dalton and Deacon interview the officer who was first on scene after a certain football field exploded three and a half years ago.

#in which vi actually writes #(when she should be studying)#remittent distress #chapter five #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #riley davis #wilt bozer #jack dalton

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darkness-and-books · 1 month

Text

The Things We Do For The Fleet

Chapter 5: Tea And Poetry

Eventual Leonard McCoy x fem!reader

⚠️: didn’t proof read this one

word count: 1,965

<-Previous-Next->

Dr. McCoy came in the door behind Y/N and put down his boxes as well. “Where should I put my things, darlin?” He asked looking down at his boxes. There’s that darlin again, “Well, I’m not sure what’s in the other boxes, but we can push some stuff back in the closet and you could hang your clothes up in there,” Y/N suggested, “The other two boxes are paperwork and files is all, they might as well stay in the boxes for now,” Dr. McCoy explained with a hand on his hip. Y/N went over to the closet and began to push some of her own things to the side and pulling things she didn’t wear often off the hangers and folding them up so she could switch them out for Dr. McCoy’s clothes. “Okay” Y/N called from within the closet, “There’s room now, if you wanna hand me your clothes I’ll start putting them on hangers,” She said, holding out a hand expectantly. He began to hand her clothes: shirt, shirt, shirt, shirt, shirt, shirt, shirt, all uniform shirts. Pants, pants, pants, pants, pants, pants, pants, all uniform as well. Nightgown, nightgown, nightgown, nightgown, nightgown, nightgown, nightgown, all plain white. Y/N held her hand out again for a moment before pinching her fingers together and making a grabby hand, “Is that all Dr. McCoy?” She questioned tiredly. “You can call me Leonard and yes it is,” Leonard told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, Leonard. If you wanna get into your pyjamas for bed, I’ll make some tea while you change, if you want some of course,” she offered, holding out one of his nightgowns. “That’d be great, I’ll have mine with lemon,” Leonard requested. He took the nightgown from Y/N’s hand and mosied on into the bathroom to change. Y/N half tumbled into the kitchen and filled the kettle with water and put it on to boil. Normally she would wash up her face while the water boiled, but Leonard was in the bathroom at the moment so instead Y/N picked up her own folded clothes and put them in the box that Leonard’s things had come in. “So,” Leonard came out of the bathroom in his own plain nightgown. “It just occurred to me, should we try to move my bed in here tonight, or should I take my clothes for tomorrow and go sleep in my own quarters?” He offered the two options. “Well,” Y/N seemed to be considering her next words very carefully. “I could sleep on the couch, and you could sleep in the bed. That way we wouldn’t have to do any work on it until tomorrow,” Y/N fumbled with the suggestion. “That’s a sweet offer, darlin, but I couldn’t make you sleep on the couch,” Leonard admitted. “Then we’ll both sleep on the bed,” Y/N stated innocently without thinking about what she was really saying. That was so stupid, so you have any idea what that sounds like?, Y/N internally scold herself for the comment.

“Then we’ll both sleep on the bed,” She had said it like it wasn’t a big deal, and maybe to her it wasn’t. Regardless of how she felt about sharing a bed, they both remained in silence from their respective places for a long moment. Leonard finally cut into the silence, “I dunno, do you steal bedding in your sleep?” He asked lightheartedly. “I wouldn’t know,” Y/N confessed to him with a slight shrug. “But if I do, there’s extra blankets and stuff in the bottom drawer of the dresser,” Y/N proposed as compensation for any sleep thefts she might commit. “Alright then, I call dibs on the left side,” He cheered, trying to push his own ill at ease feelings to the side for the time being. There’s no way this can end-, his thoughts were cut short by the kettle. “That’ll be tea,” Y/N perked up and stated, seemingly more out of habit than actual concern that Leonard might not know what the whistling sound meant. “What kind do you want?” She asked as she scrambled into the kitchen to take the kettle off of the heat. “What kind do you have?” He shot back in a form of noncommittal answer. Leonard could hear the shuffling of small paper packets before her answer, “Chamomile, mint, chamomile-lavender, mint-lavender, and radiantly raspberry,” Y/N rattled off the list, “Radiantly Raspberry?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “I dunno, I’m not in charge of naming them, it’s raspberry, take it or leave it,” She followed the ultimatum with a small giggle, that Leonard swears he would have missed if he blinked.

“Alright, darlin, I’ll take the chamomile,” His statement was promptly followed by a small tearing sound from the kitchen. maybe havin a roommate won’t be such a terrible thing, Leonard thought to himself as his eyes followed Y/N as she walked out of the kitchen in her cloud white nightgown with her hair out of her face, a mug of tea in each hand. “You’ll have to let it cool awhile,” Y/N warned through a cloud of steam, her usually quiet tone even softer as she handed him his requested tea. Leonard watched the steam rising from the mug and felt the heat radiate from it and seep into his hands. “Thank you,” He drawled, still looking at the steam, “It’s not a problem,” Y/N assures him as she puts down her mug and reaches for a book. Y/N flips through the pages intently before finally settling on a page, she sticks her thumb in between the pages and lets the book fall closed as she comes to sit down next to Leonard on the couch. When she lands on the couch she curls her legs under herself and nestles herself further into the couch, seemingly unaware of his gaze tracking her movements the whole time. Y/N opens up the book again and a look of complete and utter, inner peace melts her previously nervous posture and facial expression. I wonder what she could possibly be reading, Leonard does his best to discreetly catch sight of the title or even just the words on the page, but the way she’s almost protectively curled herself around the book doesn’t lend itself well to his attempts. “What are you reading?” He finally asks with a curious look. Y/N looks up at him in near shock at the question, she relaxes a little, but still hesitates before opening her mouth to speak. “Robert Frost,” She says quietly, looking back down at her book. “I think I’ve heard of him, something about two roads,” Leonard tried to relate, “Diverged into a yellow wood,” Y/N murmured, finishing the line. “What was that?” He asked, genuinely not having heard what she said. “The poem you’re thinking of,” She began, “The Road Not Taken, is what it’s called,” She only looked up at him for a flicker of a moment, “Yeah, that sounds right,” He admitted, still searching his memory for anything he might know about it, but nothing came to mind.

“Would you read it to me?” Leonard asked, “I can’t actually remember any of it,” He explained himself. She looked to him with a demure smile, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveller, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could,” Y/N started not having looked back at her book, but keeping her eyes trained on her cup of tea. “To where it bent in the undergrowth; then took the other, just as fair and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same, and both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black.” Y/N looked to him now, “Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.” “Wow,” Leonard started, “I don’t think I could remember all that,” He said in what he meant as a compliment to her. “It’s easy,” Y/N said, still looking at Leonard. I think this might be the longest she’s actually looked at me, “You read it because you love it, at first you can only recall bits and pieces when you aren’t focused on anything else,” She interrupted his thoughts. “Then you wake up one day, distant from where you started, and you can remember all of it without thinking, you can recite it while doing other things. One day when you really know it, you can think and feel how each word feels on your tongue without even saying any of it.” She finished thoughtfully, Leonard wasn’t sure she was talking to him so much as she might have been talking to herself. “Very poetic,” Leonard commented softly, trying not to scare her out of her daze. “Oh, thank you,” She exclaimed softly, appearing to remember that she was actually talking to someone. “Just loose thoughts,” She dismissed her own outburst of poeticism as nothing. “No, it was very nice, where did you learn it?” He asked Y/N, “Nowhere really, I just sort of thought it,” She shrugged to herself. “Well, I thought it was a very- I don’t know, but it was filled with feeling, like you meant it,” Leonard seemed to be forming the thought as he spoke. “You seem surprised by that,” Y/N murmured with a light blush before taking a sip of the tea, Leonard reached for his own forgotten mug of tea, “Sincerity isn’t something there’s a lot of in the universe,” He said with his own shrug as he drank his tea.

His eyebrows furrowed at the taste, “Is it alright, I can go make you something different?” Y/N tried to reach for the mug, but Leonard pulled it back from her reach and drank the rest of it before she could get to it. “No, it’s fine really,” Leonard insisted, “Just a little heavy on the lemon,” He conceded and put the mug back on the table. “You should finish up your tea and we’ll go to bed,” Leonard suggested, moving to put his own mug back in the sink, when he came back he offered to take hers as well. “Okay,” Y/N agreed, waiting for him to come back from the kitchen and then leading him back to the bedroom. She stood shakily in the doorway as he went ahead of her, Leonard looked back at her, “Unless you’re gonna sleep standing up, you should probably come in,” he smiled comfortingly. Y/N timidly walked into the room, waiting for Leonard to take his place first. When he realised what she was waiting for he got into bed on the left side and worked his way under the covers. Y/N waited for Leonard to settle and then slowly came up to the right side of the bed and got in as well, laying as close to the edge as possible. “You can lay further in on the bed, right now if you breathe funny you’ll fall off,” Leonard assured her. Y/N nestled a few inches closer to the middle of the bed, still being sure to give him as much space as she could reasonably manage. “Sweet dreams,” Leonard said, turning off the light, “Goodnight,” Y/N returned the sentiment and rolled over onto her side. They both laid awake, vividly aware of the other laying next to them. Eventually an uneasy sleep overtook them both.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but let the chaotic times roll. Or something like that

#star trek #bones #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek tos #fluffy stuff #new chapter #the things we do for the fleet #chapter five

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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 9 months

Text

It's Just Pretend

Chapter 5: Dinner Party

AO3!

Chapter 4

First Chapter!

Word Count: 2,028

Chapter does involve getting drunk, everyone is above the legal drinking age!

-----

They both spared a glance at each other before Lance shook his head and made his way to the balcony. He closed the door behind him. He stared at his phone before lifting it to his ear. Keeping his back to the glass door.

Keith chewed on his bottom lip and sat on the edge of the bed. Suddenly feeling like an outcast. As if he wasn’t supposed to be here. Was he supposed to be here? Why did he agree to come? He took a deep breath. Trying to focus on the dull ache that formed at the bottom of his lungs.

His foot began tapping on the ground. He knew something was bothering his friend but he didn’t know what. Maybe he was? He shook his head. Lance was usually direct with him if he needed space or if he did something that hurt him. It’s why he became friends with him.

All his life Keith never understood others, and he still doesn’t. He never understood subtle jokes, sarcasm, or indirect tones. Fake kindness confused him more than physics. He grew up alone. Isolated. Being pushed out of every social circle because he took a joke “too seriously” or he just “never understood” what they wanted.

He doesn’t count Shiro as his first friend. Even if they met when Keith was around eight and Shiro fourteen. But they were brothers, he didn't want to call Shiro his first friend. Adam became a package deal with Shiro once they became serious. Keith liked Adam, he was logical, straight to the point. But calling your brothers, now fiance, your first friend was a bit embarrassing. Pidge and Matt were good friends. He could rely on them, but Lance. He was his first friend.

It was his first day of class, the first day of his freshman year. He didn’t expect to make any friends. He was there on a scholarship. He just wanted his degree and to go live his life alone. A person stood in front of him and Keith looked up. He lifted his hand to remove the earbud in his right ear. “I’m sorry?”

The brown-haired boy grinned at him, “I asked if this seat was taken?” he gestured to the empty chair next to Keith.

“Uhhh,” Keith shifted his eyes to the seat “…no. I guess not.” He silently begged the person not to sit next to him. He chose a seat in the back for a reason.

“Thanks, man,” the person sat down. Sliding off his green jacket once he was seated and grabbed a notebook from his bag. “I’m Lance.”

Keith nodded at him. Quickly debating faking a fainting episode to get out of this interaction.

Lance moved in his seat some, fidgeting with a pencil he pulled from the spiral in his notebook. “What’s your name?”

Keith cleared his throat, “Keith.”

Lance smiled at him. “Nice to meet you.”

Meeting Lance was something Keith never thought would happen. Despite his bubbly personality and inability to sit still. Lance was patient, kind, and had a sense of understanding that most people their age didn’t have. He explained things to Keith he never had explained to him before. What certain jokes meant, when people were joking, what sarcasm sounded like. The “underlying” messages that people say between their words.

He did this without ever needing to ask.

Keith’s family was understanding and kind, but a friend wasn’t obligated to do this. He was proud to call Lance his friend.

“Keith?”

His eyes opened in a panic, frantically scanning Lance’s face. He pushed himself up in a frenzied motion Lance raising his hands in front of him. His voice was low. Comforting. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just me.”

Keith swallowed, his throat dry. He managed a couple of nods, forcing himself to breathe as Lance stepped back from him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” his voice was scratchy and he cleared his throat of nonexistent things. “I didn’t mean to,” he turned to find a clock in the room. Forgetting most hotels were void of them. “How long was I out?”

“About two hours. I would have left you sleeping but,” Lance held up his phone. “We have dinner with the company. Can’t miss it.” Lance looked at the floor, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Keith ran his hand down his face, “when?”

“About an hour. I’m going to take a quick shower.” He moved toward the bathroom, “you’ll need your suit!”

—

“Ah! Mister and Mister McClain!” An older man with salt and pepper hair stood from the table. A wide smile on his face as the two boys approached. A couple of other people waved hello, holding their drinks in the air. There were a total of eight people at the table. Four employees and four spouses. Keith and Lance would make ten.

Lance squeezed Keith’s hand tighter as they walked closer. “Mister Johnson,” he nodded at everyone else, “I’m happy to see everyone made it safely.” He extended his hand and shook his boss's hand, letting Keith follow suit. He pulled out a chair for Keith and sat down next to him, “everyone this is Keith. My fiance.”

Keith nodded to everyone, returning a polite “hello.” His posture was tense and Lance quickly poured him a glass of wine. Conversation floated around them. Lance had given Keith a small lesson on who his co-workers were. What they were like, who would talk your ear off, and who was more of a listener. Just to help Keith with his uneasiness around new people.

Lance took charge of regurgitating the story of how they met, how the proposal went, and their relationship as a whole. It was no longer awkward or uncomfortable. They were lying after all.

Keith snuck a glance at Lance. His body had gotten more relaxed as the night went on. He had even loosened his tie more. He leaned back in his chair, his arm hung on the back of Keith’s chair. His expression was light, filled with happiness. Keith frowned to himself as he brought his glass to his lips. Lance should be here with someone else. He should be spending his time and energy with someone else.

Keith was taking that from him. He fought back a sigh and put his glass down. Trying to rationalize that Lance was the one that told his co-workers they were engaged. Lance decided to bring him on the trip. Lance hadn’t mentioned breaking it off.

An image of Lance’s face from the hotel flickered in his mind and he stood. A bit too quickly, swaying slightly as the alcohol made his head spin.

“Hey babe, you okay?” Lance moved forward, reaching his hands out to steady his friend as his co-worker on the other side did the same. Lance’s voice was laced with confusion and worry.

“I’m okay,” Keith focused on standing upright. “Just…need the restroom.” He turned a bit, looking for a sign.

“Oh it’s to the left over there,” Lance’s boss pointed out and Keith nodded his head at him in thanks.

He met Lance’s eyes. “Be right back.”

Lance nodded at him and watched him walk away until he disappeared behind the door.

“Keith isn’t much of a people person, is he?” One of Lance’s coworkers joked. His wife smacked his arm lightly; telling him to stop.

Lance smiled, “he’s not. But I don’t mind.”

“You two are cute for each other,” a co-worker said.

“Yeah, I like the mix of cat and dog energy you two have.” Her wife drunkenly said a fit of giggles fell from her mouth.

Lance laughed. "That’s a good way to put it.”

—

Keith pressed his hands into his eyes, focusing on the cool water that touched him. The sound of the facet running before it automatically turned off. He took a shaky breath. Tears threatened to spill. He wasn’t a crier. There were few things he hated more than crying. He just felt so bad.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Why am I like this?

He sighed, he just had to survive the night and then he could sleep and hopefully feel better in the morning.

The bathroom door opened up and he straightened his posture as a random person entered. He cleared his throat and made his way to the door, unprepared to join the others. He pushed the door open, immediately bumping into someone. Fingers wrapping around his shoulders to keep him upright.

“You okay?” A soft voice asked.

Keith closed his eyes, leaning into the hands on him. “You followed me.”

A familiar chuckle sounded, “Yeah…sorry. I just wanted to check on you.”

“I just had to pee.”

Lance made a small sound.

Keith opened his eyes and looked at him. “You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question. Lance knew him like the back of his hand.

Lance sighed. “Not really. But,” he gently squeezed his hands, sending Keith unspoken comfort. “I’m here for you.”

“I know. I know.” Keith looked down at his feet, “let's get back to the table.”

“Okay,” Lance lifted his right hand off Keith’s shoulder while sliding his left hand down his arm. Intertwining their fingers together.

Keith tried not to focus on the heat of their hands. They had held hands before, even before this fake dating. They held hands when Shiro ended up in an accident. Severely hurt. They held hands after Lance’s grandmother passed away. They held hands when the movie got a bit too scary. They had held hands in front of others as the months went on over their fake romance. But right now? His hand felt on fire.

Holding hands has never felt like this.

“Is this too much?” Lance whispered to him as they headed back to the table.

“We’ve held hands before.” Keith huffed out, trying to keep his face blank.

“I meant the dinner. Just say the word and we’ll head back.” Lance squeezed their hands together. A fake smile formed on his face as they stepped closer.

Keith allowed Lance to pull them back to the table. Smiling at the people as he did. Chewing on his inner cheek. Why was his heart beating so fast?

—

They ended up back in the room a couple of hours later. Both swaying a bit due to alcohol, Lance more than Keith. But they made it back to the room with no issues. Until the original issue made itself known yet again.

One bed.

Lance fumbled with the card and unlocked the door. Keith guided him into the room as the other boy mumbled under his breath. “You’re so pretty, Mullet.”

Keith chuckled, Lance always got affectionate when he was drunk. “Thank you, Lance.” Keith helped him sit down on the bed, gently pulling his suit jacket off before taking his own off. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Keith helped slide Lance’s tie all the way off and unbutton his shirt. Ignoring the way his hands shook. His mind cycled on the fact that there was only one bed. Of course, it made sense there was only one bed. They were supposed to be in a relationship. Supposed to be getting married soon.

Keith passed Lance his sleeping shirt and pants and stepped into the bathroom with his own pajamas. Quickly getting changed and taking a moment to brush his teeth. Really, he was just prolonging the inevitable.

He and Lance were close. They knew each other for years. But they have never slept in the same bed. Had Keith even shared a bed with someone? He found himself picking at his nails and he dropped his hands. I can do this. He thought to himself as he exited the bathroom.

Lance had gotten changed and was already under the blankets—a tiny snore coming from his mouth.

Keith approached, unconsciously raising on to his tiptoes. He found himself almost frozen. Staring blankly. He eventually reached down and pulled the covers back. Sliding into bed, hugging the very edge.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Letting the alcohol pull him into an uncomfortable slumber.

-----

A/N: Shiro and Keith are step-brothers!

Thank you for the support!

#it's just pretend #fake engagement #lance vld #lance voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #klance #keith vld #keith voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #chapter five #posted to a03 #no beta #kat writes #long post

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