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cloudwhisper23 · 5 months

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BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly. “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

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jujumin-translates · 2 years

Text

Event | Literary Impasse | Chapter 10

*Contains spoilers for Act 12 - eternal moment*

*Buzzer sounds*

Host: “The 97th Great Literary Arts Award goes to Ryu Yokoyama-san for “Dawn”! Congratulations.”

*Applause*

Participant A: “Congratulations!”

Participant B: “That was a close one.”

Participant C: “Huh, I really thought it would be Tsurumatsu-kun.”

Participant A: “No, that’d be a waste of time. Maybe for a spectacular award for the 100th anniversary.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s what you think, haha…”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

???: “Good evening!”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “Who are you?”

Tomohisa: “Tomohisa Oue!”

Tsurumatsu: “If you want a signature or a letter, address it to the editorial department--.”

Tomohisa: “I’ll be staying here starting today! Hope we can get along!”

Tsurumatsu: “Hah…?”

*Phone rings*

Tsurumatsu: “Hello? Mom? I’m busy with some weird kid right now-- Huh? He’s a relative? I don’t know him. I have no memory of that. Who is he? My fan?”

Tsurumatsu: “I don’t care about that. No, but I’m just saying, they’re trying to buy this estate and-- Ugh, okay, okay. Got it.”

Tsurumatsu: “If one thing goes wrong I’m kicking him out immediately. Just until he finds a dorm. Okay, I understand. Let me know as soon as you figure it out.”

Tsurumatsu: “Eh? Air conditioning? I don’t use it. I’ve told you that a thousand times. I don’t allow those kinds of things in my house. Even Grandfather--...”

Tsurumatsu: “A freeloader?”

Tomohisa: “I really hope we can get along!”

Tsurumatsu: “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Tomohisa: “This is like a super cool antique house~!”

Tsurumatsu: “Just say it has a history. I’m telling you now if you’re staying here, you’re going to play by the rules of my house.”

Tsurumatsu: “First, you’re only allowed to wear Japanese clothes for everyday things. Using electronic devices is prohibited. Meaning, there are almost no appliances of any kind.”

Tomohisa: “Eh!? What about water supply? What about the bath?”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s water. And the bath is wood-fueled.”

Tomohisa: “That’s like super cool! I’ve never taken a bath in a bathtub heated by wood!”

Tsurumatsu: “It’s not in use right now, so you’ll have to go to the local public bathhouse.”

Tomohisa: “Eh, really?”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s no TV, computers, game consoles, or microwaves. You don’t have to pay rent in exchange for cooking and cleaning.”

Tomohisa: “Ah~, so I’m like a domestic student! Got~cha.”

Tsurumatsu: “...You’ll make it work?”

Tomohisa: “Don’t know, but there’s a convenience store nearby, so I can probably manage!”

Tsurumatsu: “Tch. See if there’s anything that fits for your everyday clothes in that wardrobe other there.”

Tomohisa: “Ah, but I like don’t even know how to wear a kimono!”

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

Director: (This time, the story takes place almost entirely in the estate, so Tetsuro-san insisted on a Japanese-style set…)

Director: (He did a good job, it looks really realistic.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa: “This is my first time using a shichirin, but it’s like surprisingly easy! The grilled chicken and grilled fish are looking super good!” (1)

Tsurumatsu: “You can cook meat and fish on a shichirin…?”

Tomohisa: “By the way, is this shichirin like brand new? Doesn’t even look like it’s ever been used…”

Tsurumatsu: “I’ve used it a few times.”

Tomohisa: “Is that so. Well, anyway, I thought it’d be like super hard to cook without appliances, but it’s surprisingly easy!”

Tsurumatsu: “You’ve got too much adaptability…”

Takasugi: “Pardon meee. What smells so good over here~?”

Tsurumatsu: “Why’d you come here, Takasugi? I thought we were having a meeting.”

Takasugi: “I was so busy that I just so happened to miss lunch.”

Kusunoki: “Oh, chicken and fish, huh. Just perfect for a bite. I brought some sake along too.”

Tomohisa: “Sounds good~!”

Tsurumatsu: “You are underage. Besides that, don’t just come over here without permission when you have nothing better to do, Kusunoki.”

Tomohisa: “There’s plenty more, so it’s all okay~. I’ll grill up some more for all of you after the meeting.”

Takasugi: “Sounds good~.”

Tsurumatsu: “Thank you.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsurumatsu: “So, what’s the deal?”

Takasugi: “We~ll, I’d like to discuss the plot of your new work~. I’ve got some suggestions for it...”

Tsurumatsu: “What’d you do to the plot this time?”

Takasugi: “Ah~, we~ll, about that~, actually, it’s a bit of a rewrite, or rather more of a total rewrite, from the editor-in-chief…”

Tsurumatsu: “Which means it got sunk completely.”

Takasugi: “Ummm… Well, I guess that’s just what had to be done…?”

Takasugi: “But but, I thought there was definitely something very bright and shiny about it~! I felt your will more than I ever had before, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Takasugi: “I thought that maybe I could make it shine even brighter, and I’m sure the editor-in-chief would let me, but I’m not sure I’m quite up to the task, sorry~.”

Tsurumatsu: “...Sigh.”

Takasugi: “I understand that you want to reach new horizons, but it seems you’re lost halfway there…”

Tsurumatsu: “What was wrong with that one? I based it off of Umeji Motoi, who broke new ground in that way in his later years.”

Takasugi: “No, well, Umeji-sensei was, well~...”

Takasugi: “Anywho, what do you think? How about you try writing a more entertaining piece?”

Takasugi: “I’ve actually wanted to start on a more entertainment-oriented brand for a long time~.”

Takasugi: “I truly believe you can write enjoyable works that’ll entertain audiences for years to come, Tsurumatsu-sensei~!”

Takasugi: “Use some of your natural talents for laughter, or… Throw in a few funny lines…!”

Tsurumatsu: “Entertainment value means nothing. Only pure literature has value.”

Takasugi: “Ah, ah~, is that~... So~...”

Tsurumatsu: “...None of them have any clue of what they’re talking about! How can they not recognize the precedent set by Umeji, when there’s no question in the matter?”

Tsurumatsu: “Entertainment was the word my grandfather despised the most.”

*Door slides open*

Shibukawa: “Pardon the intrusion.”

Tsurumatsu: “--What do you want? I’m busy working on a new highly acclaimed plot because the old one was shot down.”

Shibukawa: “That was just Umeji-sensei’s “Windmill”, was it not?”

Tsurumatsu: “Do you know what you’re saying--.”

Shibukawa: “As you know, I’m a big fan of Umeji-sensei.”

Shibukawa: “I still remember the time my grandfather took me to meet Umeji-sensei. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.”

Shibukawa: “I never thought that snotty-nosed kid from then would become such a renowned writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “You know what I’m talking about. If I go for “Windmill”, I’m sure to do well. I’ll definitely win the next Great Literary Arts Award too--.”

Shibukawa: “I won’t say anything bad about it, but you shouldn’t.”

Shibukawa: “To start, what the hell are you even aiming for, Tsurumatsu-sensei? For Umeji-sensei? For the Great Literary Arts Award? What did you become a writer for?

Tsurumatsu: “I--.”

Shibukawa: “You shouldn’t let yourself be dragged down by Umeji-sensei. You’ll never be him, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “--Gh.”

Shibukawa: “I look forward to seeing you travel into new territory, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Shit.”

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei, I made some toasted marshmallows, you wanna eat some?”

Tsurumatsu: “Toasted marshmallows? I’m not really in the mood for--.”

Tomohisa: “They’re like super good. I also made some chocolate marshmallows.”

Tsurumatsu: “...”

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei, dontcha like sweet things?”

Tsurumatsu: “Not really…”

Director: (The pain of a slump… It’s portrayed so delicately because Tsuzuru-kun actually experienced it.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kunishige: “H-Here…?”

Kusunoki: “ Yes, this is the estate of the famous Umeji and Tsurumatsu Motoi.”

Tsurumatu: “Don’t make this a tourist attraction without my permission. Who even is he?”

Kunishige: “Ah, um, I’m Takayoshi Kunishige, an aspiring writer!”

Kunishige: “I’m a huge fan of your work, Tsurumatsu-sensei, and, um, I’d love to get your advice on my work--!”

Kusunoki: “He’s a very promising future writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “I don’t have time for that sort of thing. Just read over Umeji’s works and study them hard.”

Kunishige: “Eh, but I like your--.”

Tsurumatsu: “You should leave now.”

Tomohisa: “Sensei! The pizza oven is ready!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Hah?”

Tomohisa: “I thought I’d get like crazy bored of the shichirin, so I watched some videos online and tried building a pizza oven in the corner of the garden.”

Tsurumatsu: “What are you even going to do with--.”

Tomohisa: “It doesn’t use electricity so it’s totally okay.”

Tomohisa: “I test-baked some, so here! Margherita pizza and apple-cinnamon dessert pizza!”

Kusunoki: “Ooh, it looks very good.”

Tsurumatsu: “Apple-cinnamon…”

Kunishige: “Sorry for bothering you… I’ll leave now…”

Tomohisa: “Huh? You’re not gonna eat any? I’ve made plenty for everyone.”

Kunishige: “No, I…”

Tsurumatsu: “...This’ll be too much for just us. So take some.”

Kunishige: “Eh, are you sure…? Thank you so much!”

Kusunoki: “This is pretty good.”

Kunishige: “It really is!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Well, I guess the taste isn’t that bad.”

Tomohisa: “I can do like a whole bunch more with the pizza oven, so I’ll def try out some more things.”

Kusunoki: “You’re very talented, Tomohisa-kun. You can cook, you can DIY things, and you handle Tsurumatsu very well.”

Tomohisa: “Aww, you’re makin’ me blush.”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t let it go to your head. And what do you mean by “handles me well”?

Kunishige: “Tomohisa-kun, are you like Tsurumatsu-sensei’s apprentice or something?”

Tomohisa: “I’m just a relative. I’m doing housework in exchange for living here.”

Tomohisa: “Well, it’s kinda different from normal housework, ‘cause of the appliance ban here.”

Kunishige: “There’s a ban on appliances!? Is wearing a kimono for daily life also part of Tsurumatsu-sensei’s old-fashioned ways?”

Tomohisa: “Yep, yep.”

Tomohisa: “Though, Sensei is like surprisingly lazy and unskilled, so he goes to convenience stores, supermarkets, public baths, and eats out all the time too!”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s enough out of you.”

Tomohisa: “So I heard you’re like an aspiring novelist, right? What kinda novels do you write?

Kunishige: “Umm, I’m working on a manuscript right now--.”

Tsurumatsu: “Is this it?”

Kunishige: “Huh!? When did you notice!?”

Tsurumatsu: “I still can’t give you any advice. I just remembered my younger self and felt refreshed for a moment.”

Kunishige: “Thank you so much!”

Tomohisa: “Can I read it too?”

Kunishige: “Of course!”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kunishige: “H-Hello.”

Tsurumatsu: “You again… I’ll say this again if you want advice, I--.”

Kunishige: “Actually, I came today because I wanted to thank Tomohisa-kun.”

Tsurumatsu: “Thank him?”

Tomohisa: “Huh? What’s up?”

Kunishige: “Tomohisa-kun, I got the grand prize for Literary Newcomer of the Year!”

Tomohisa: “Eh!? For real!? That’s like, super awesome! Congrats!”

Kunishige: “It’s all thanks to your advice!”

Tomohisa: “I barely did anything. It was completely and totally 100% Kunishige.”

Kunishige: “If you become an editor after you graduate, we should definitely work on a book together.”

Tsurumatsu: “Editor?”

Tomohisa: “Ah, actually, I’m like, trying to become an editor.”

Tsurumatsu: “Is that so… I never knew that.”

Tomohisa: “Ahaha, well, you’ve never really been interested in the things around you, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s not true, I--.”

Takasugi: “Hellooo.”

Tomohisa: “Ah, Takasugi-san, are you having another meeting? Here you go.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Takasugi: “Sorry, Sensei~. There was only a lit~tle bit of story this time too.”

Tsurumatsu: “Again? If you don’t want to use my stuff anymore, just make it clear. You’re wasting my time.”

Takasugi: “It’s not that~. Both myself and the editor, Shibukawa, have high hopes for your new works, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Takasugi: “Because of our high expectations, I thought it would be best to sit down and work on this project~.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s enough. I get the gist.”

Takasugi: “...Umm, I’ll be back later~. But I’ll still be looking forward to your next work!”

Takasugi: “If there’s anything we can do to help, please just let us know~!”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Sigh.”

Kusunoki: “Pardon me. Oh, you’re looking quite dreary again.”

Tsurumatsu: “How many times have I told you not to enter without my permission? And more importantly, I have no clue how you’re not bored of this. And also how you have so much time all day, every day.”

Kusunoki: “We’re celebrating Kunishige-kun today. I brought champagne.”

Tsurumatsu: “Why are you celebrating Kunishige here?”

Kusunoki: “That’s because Tomohisa-kun is already cooking up a feast. It smells very good. I think it’s some kind of meat dish today.”

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

Kusunoki: “To be honest, at first I was just showing up to interrupt your newest work, but lately I’ve been more looking forward to Tomohisa-kun’s cooking.”

Tsurumatsu: “Haah?”

Kusunoki: “It’s an ironclad development made to get in the way of rival writers, is it not?”

Tsurumatsu: “Since when are we rival writers?”

Kusunoki: “I’ve been aware of you ever since we debuted as writers at the same time.”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s no need to interrupt me. I’m at a dead-end, so your wish is granted.”

Kusunoki: “It seems that way. But that doesn’t make for a very interesting competitor.”

Kusunoki: “You’ve been stuck in the ghost of Umeji ever since your debut. You should be more open to new environments and changes.”

Tsurumatsu: “I’ve already accepted that and tried to show it off.”

Kusunoki: “I doubt that.”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “Yo, you guys, I’ve grilled some spare ribs and baked a pizza.”

Kusunoki: “Oh, how magnificent.”

Tomohisa: “I’ve also baked some apples, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “You don’t have to do that every single time.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa’s Father: Oi! I know you’re in there, Tomohisa! Come out here!”

Tsurumatsu: “...What the hell?”

Tomohisa: “Damn… He found me…”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa’s Father: “Tomohisa! I know you’re here!”

Tsurumatsu: “Who are you? I won’t hesitate to call the cops.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “I’m Tomohisa’s father. I’m here to take my kid back.”

Tsurumatsu: “It’s not like you’re taking him back. I didn’t kidnap him. He’s just staying here to attend college.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “It’s the same thing as kidnapping if the parent hasn’t given their consent.”

Tsurumatsu: “Eh…? Tomohisa, what does he mean by that?”

Tomohisa: “Umm… I actually kinda asked my aunt to keep my father in the dark about it…”

Tsurumatsu: “You what?”

Tomohisa’s Father: “To start, what the hell were you thinking!? Refusing to go to the medical school you were accepted into and going to a literary arts school instead!? You will NOT become an editor under my watch!”

Tomohisa’s Father: “You’re dropping out of that school and reentering medical school. Literature is bullshit! It’s not useful in a company!”

Tomohisa: “Father, wait--.”

Tsurumatsu: “I won’t be overlooking that comment.”

Tomohisa: “Sensei?”

Tsurumatsu: “Literature is bullshit? It’s not useful in a company? And yet, here’s a human being that lives and breathes that literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Without literature, I wouldn’t be alive like this.”

Tsurumatsu: “Without it, I’m sure I would’ve stumbled in life and never would’ve become a proper, independent, adult.”

Tsurumatsu: “I live and breathe solely for literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Even if there’s one person like that, isn’t that enough to make literature worthwhile?”

Tomohisa’s Father: “W-What the hell are you talking about--?”

Tsurumatsu: “And not to mention, it doensn’t matter how much you want him to go to medical school, if he doesn’t want to, no amount of people are going to be able to push him to do so.”

Tsurumatsu: “And if there’s any chance you can, he’ll completely fall apart when he has to give up on his path to becoming an editor.”

Tsurumatsu: “And you’re wrong. Gathering him here and forcing him home now won’t work.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “Tch…”

Tsurumatsu: “Glad you understood. Now, please cool your temper.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “I’ll be back, Tomohisa.”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “...”

Tsurumatsu: “If you really want to become an editor, you should make your intentions known to your father, Tomohisa.”

Tomohisa: “...Yeah. I’ll go walk my father to the train station.”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Jeez. He’s gotten himself into a hell of a mess.”

Kusunoki: “His stubbornness is a lot like yours, you know.”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t just invite yourself in. And what part of me is stubborn?”

Kusunoki: “You inherited a lot from Umeji-sensei. However, his love for literature and yours are on thing that’s different.”

Tsurumatsu: “--.”

Kusunoki: “Umeji Motoi apsired to be a doctor but failed and became a writer instead. He was known for his depressing feelings towards literature as well as his talent.”

Kusunoki: “The conflict because of the path he chose was not the one he wanted to take was the very thing that gave his work meaning. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Kusunoki: “Still, that great speech of yours earlier was quite impressive. Good going, rival of mine.”

Tsurumatsu: “It was my grandfather that convinced my father that I could be a writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “My grandfather told me to go the way I wanted because of how he had failed. I just wanted to do the same thing he did.”

Kusunoki: “I see… It seems Umeji Motoi never really hated literature after all.”

Kusunoki: “Or perhaps, maybe it was you who made him not hate it.”

Tsurumatsu: “Me…?”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa: “I’m back.”

Tsurumatsu: “Welcome back. Glad to see you’re okay.”

Tomohisa: “It’ll probably take a while to convince him, but I was able to talk to him a little. It’s all thanks to you, Sensei. Thank you so much.”

Tsurumatsu: “It was nothing… I was just saying what I thought.”

Tomohisa: “I… Realized why I like your work so much again when I heard what you were saying…”

Tomohisa: “Unlike Umeji-sensei’s works, your works show a straightforward love for literature, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Tsurumatsu: “I also had a fight with my father when I was in school. He had said very few people could make a living off of novels.”

Tsurumatsu: “My father knew best of my grandfather’s great talent. And he also knows the suffering it caused him at the same time…”

Tsurumatsu: “Even if he didn’t love literature, and even half-hated it at times for not being able to leave it even if he wanted to…”

Tsurumatsu: “My grandfather’s writing always fascinated people.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s why he didn’t think I could do it with just a love for literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Even so, Umeji Motoi’s works saved me. Even when I was struggling to live, I was still able to breathe just by reading his works.”

Tsurumatsu: “The only place I can live is within the realm of literature.”

Tomohisa: “The works that you’ve written are like the same thing for me, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “I see… I can’t be Umeji Motoi. I love literature. I should recognize myself as the Tsurumatsu Motoi that loves literature and is kept alive by literature.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Takasugi: “So~, about the plot from last time…”

Tsurumatsu: “...”

Takasugi: “We’re going with it~! Shibukawa also gave it his stamp of approval.”

Takasugi: “Yeah~, it was so good, in fact, that I was almost confused how I was reading something so exciting!”

Takasugi: “I would love it if you could write from my new label when I launch--.”

Tsurumatsu: “For now, how about I just work on the stuff that’s in front of me.”

Takasugi: “Sure thing~! Good luck!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Well, once I’ve successfully written this up, you might want to try to be more open to the idea of new environments and changes.”

Tsurumatsu: “Like dessert pizza for example.”

Takasugi: “Sensei…!”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Narrator: (A few years later--)

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei! I’m here to pick up the manuscript!”

Tsurumatsu: “You really came.”

Tomohisa: “You bet I did! Our editor, Takasugi, is really looking forward to this new series.”

Tsurumatsu: “Still, I was surprised when Takasugi actually went and started his new label, but I never imagined you’d get a job there, Tomohisa…”

Tomohisa: “I’m just as hyped as anyone else would be! I wanna help you create more and more new works, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Tsurumatsu: “I’m more or less relying on you now. You know Tsurumatsu Motoi better than I seem to. So that’s good enough for me.”

Tomohisa: “‘Course I do! At least I like to think so!”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t get too cocky.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Syu: (I told him before to just focus on one script, but I never thought he go ahead and take full advantage of his experience and play the role of a writer.)

Syu: (The realism of this play is really something only he could pull off.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Applause*

Tsuzuru: Thank you very much for attending today!

Sakuya: Thank you so much!

Citron: Thank you!

Tsuzuru: (I’m glad the first day went off without a hitch…)

Tsuzuru: (There’s Mizuno, Otomiya-san, and oh, over there is Tooru and Kaoru and the rest of my brothers.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Gawain: “Good job.”

Enis: “Congrats.”

Rick: “Keep up the good work.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: Heh.

Tsuzuru: (I’m sure I’ll keep suffering as a writer as many times as Tsurumatsu did.)

Tsuzuru: (But, If I can sublimate my work like this every time I do… A writer is definitely the right thing for me.)

Tsuzuru: (I’ll continue to do my best and continue down my own path. Along with everyone else--.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

• �� •

T/N:

(1) A shichirin is a small charcoal grill, like the one seen in the unbloomed of Sakuya’s “Another Cup of Tea With You Today” card.

#a3!#a3! translation #〚 event #sakuya sakuma #tsuzuru minagi #citron #chikage utsuki #masumi usui #itaru chigasaki #syu otomiya #// this took forever bc a) it’s long and b) the way tomohisa makes me feel prevented me from getting it done #i want to strangle him (affectionate)#there’s also a specific giggle that plays for some of tomohisa’s lines in game and oh my god

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i-am-weis · 1 year

Note

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game: - 10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw. - 26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended. - 7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate. - 30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw.

Lmao none? I like drawing clothes where the folds aren’t too difficult. Maybe pants? I feel like pants have folds that I can guess my way through easier than any shirt/jacket. The true ideal is probably socks 😂

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended.

Oh gosh I know there are some out there where I was like “wtf?” but usually it’s things like when my Momoi kept being tagged as Sakura, despite not really looking like her outside of the pink hair.

But I remember I drew this Spock pic once and it breached containment on Twitter and a bunch of normies kept saying it was Tom Cruise but I’m just like “it’s clearly Quinto and they both just have similarly shaped noses.” That was prob the most unexpected one

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate.

Ugh any kind of paint. Gouache, especially. You know how much we worked with gouache in color theory lmao but I never understood how to like really use it (in fairness, I did not take color theory super seriously lol) but people do such great paintings with it! And I’m always in awe

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated.

Why’d you pick the hard questions lol…

I’m not really sure honestly. I either draw for very popular things or for like very very small rarepairs lmao not much in between. So some things I wish would get a million notes but get like 100, but that is often like Really Good for what that fandom is lol

I think usually if something feels underrated to me, it’s on a specific platform. Like a pic doing shit on twt but then it does better on tumblr and I feel like “yeah, they get it” lmao

#reply #dont-make-this-weird-but-i #not art

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snowstark · 3 years

Note

Anon with the arts v stem bs for you, could you write a thing where Peter is in your position trying to write an essay when his brain Just Won't Work Right To Do The Words and he asks Tony for help and Tony's like *cracks knuckles* "get on your knees, baby boy, I'm writing this whole thing for you and you're gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I'm done"

my god i saw this at like 7 am and went “shit, yes. i have to write this” before passing the fuck back out until 10. also sorry it’s late, i got carried away

we say thank you, we say please.

you can also read on ao3!

“Ugh!”

Tony glanced over at yet another one of Peter’s noises of complaint. They had grown in severity and loudness over the past few minutes, and the angry crinkle in Peter’s forehead told him just how frustrated the younger boy was.

“Fuck!”

Tony sniffed a smile, amused. “You doin’ okay, baby?”

“No,” Peter bit back, slamming his forehead onto the desk. “This stupid essay isn’t working out. Why am I even writing an essay? Isn’t the whole point of science to experiment?”

“And reflect on your findings,” Tony corrected with a roll of his eyes. He got up from his seat and came over, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. “Lemme see what you have.”

“Be my guest.” Peter tried to get up, but stilled when Tony shoved him back down.

Humming, Tony read over the introduction Peter had managed to craft, then wordlessly reached out and highlighted the whole thing before deleting it.

“Hey!”

“Hm?” Tony smiled at him sweetly.

“Why’d you do that?” Peter seethed with a pout.

“Because it was trash,” Tony replied. “And I know you know that it was.” He held Peter’s gaze until the fire in it died down a bit, and waited until Peter dropped his gaze.

Miserably, the younger boy picked at his nails. “I’m gonna fail this course. I’m not smart enough.”

“Don’t say that.” Tony’s voice was sharp. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again; you hear me?”

Silence, then a petulant look.

Something Tony clicked. He reached out, slid a hand through Peter’s soft curls, and tightened his hand into a fist, pulling hard enough for Peter to hiss through his teeth. “I said, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Peter muttered. “Ow! You’re gonna pull my hair out if you don’t—ow, yes! Yes, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” Tony eyed Peter for a few more seconds, then let go. “You should start off with the basics. Think of a good hook, but don’t you dare try and make a statement about society or some shit like that. Profs hate it.”

“I can’tttt,” Peter whined. “It just doesn’t work.” He turned to look at Tony with his best puppy eyes. “Maybe you could write it for me.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, honey, hilarious. Now you want to commit an academic offense.”

Peter glared. “This entire essay is an offense! To me! And if you don’t help me, I’m going to fail, Tony. Okay? I’m gonna get a big, fat, ugly zero—”

“You sure you want me to help?” Tony interrupted, a wicked, filthy plan suddenly forming in his mind. He nudged Peter out of his seat and sat down, appraising him, mouth already watering in anticipation. “Because you know I don’t do things for free, sweetheart. You’ll need to pay me back somehow, show me how grateful you are.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that massage you’ve been asking for—”

Tony barked out a laugh that silenced him. He let his hands drop to the buttons on his jeans, enjoying the way Peter’s eyes immediately followed the movement. “Oh, no, no, no, baby. That’s not what I’m asking for.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his dick, and looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Peter immediately said. Tony didn’t miss the way he sounded a little more strained now, eyes still fixed on the tent in Tony’s boxers. “I’ll pay you back.”

Tony smirked, then snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees, baby boy. I’m writing this whole thing for you and you’re gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I’m done.”

Peter dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and looked up at Tony expectantly, licking his lips.

“You know what I love about you, honey?” Tony drawled, sprawling his legs wide open, enjoying the way Peter immediately leaned closer. He pushed a hand through his hair again and leaned close so that they were nose-to-nose.

Peter tried to kiss him, almost instinctively, and Tony laughed before gently pushing him away. “You’re always so”—Tony yanked his head back harshly with the grip on his hair, eliciting a gasp—“fucking”—A sharp slap to his face, making Peter moan—“grateful.” A caress now, to counter the heat blooming in Peter’s cheek. “Isn’t that right?” He ran the pad of his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip.

Peter stared up at him adoringly in response, eyes wide.

The boy was already completely out of it, Tony noted with amusement. So responsive. Beautiful. He let his thumb brush against his flushed cheeks before sitting back and gesturing to the zipper on his pants.

“Go on, then,” he murmured, watching Peter’s eyes flash eagerly. “I undid the button for you, didn’t I? I think you can do the rest by yourself.” He stopped Peter with a hum when the boy reached out with his hands, and he shook his head. “No, baby. With your teeth.”

Peter swallowed, then obediently wriggled forwards and mouthed at the zipper, trying to get a good grip on it with his mouth.

Tony watched him for a few moments before reaching out to pet his hair as silent encouragement. It took Peter a few more seconds before he managed to pull it down, and Tony grinned when the boy immediately nuzzled closer, mouthing at his cock almost hungrily.

Tony pulled him back a bit before holding a hand out in front of Peter. “Spit.” Once Peter obeyed, he took himself in his hand and stroked in long, lazy motions, not taking his eyes off of the boy for a single moment. After a few minutes, Peter began to make impatient little noises at the back of his throat, just as Tony had expected him to.

“Needy thing,” Tony crooned, then smacked Peter’s face with his dick, making the sub jolt. Peter looked up, eyes glazed over, practically whacked into submission now. “Open up. I wanna see you gagging on it, you hear me? Don’t you dare try and slack off.”

Peter nodded in quick little jerks of his head, mouth falling open immediately at the order.

Tony fed his cock into Peter’s mouth inch by inch, wet and warm and ready for him, until Peter had taken him into his mouth nearly completely. He ran a hand through the sub’s curls, then shifted, feeling his cock hit the back of Peter’s throat, and pulled the laptop closer to him. He felt Peter’s cheeks hollow as he tried to swallow in vain around his cock, and Tony cursed quietly under his breath at the spasm of Peter’s throat.

Right. The essay.

He sucked the inside of his cheek, thinking, before beginning to type.

Biophysics is critical to our understanding of the mechanics of the molecules in our lives, and how complex systems and beings function, which, according to—

Tony stopped when Peter’s cheeks hollowed yet again and he looked down, raising an eyebrow. “You need something?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head as best as he could, then pulled back to wipe the drool on his chin with the back of his hand. “Just—was just tryin’ to swallow, Daddy.” God, he already sounded wrecked, voice rough and throaty.

“What, embarrassed that you were making a mess of yourself?” Tony chuckled, then shoved his hand into Peter’s hair before yanking him back onto his dick. “Stay. There. Your job is to be the filthy, needy thing you are while being grateful for what I’m giving you. Remember what I said about wanting your mouth to be stuffed with it until I’m done? You think I was joking about that?”

A small whine; Tony gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was feeling generous today and assumed it was a ‘no.’

He went back to work after that, and for the next half hour, the only sounds that filled up the room was his typing and the occasional little noise Peter made, whether it be a small exhale from his nose or an attempted swallow of his throat.

He took the time to finish, then ran through it three times to edit it. After the last run, he finally—finally—looked down at Peter, whose eyes were closed, eyelashes occasionally fluttering with each shallow inhale he took through his nose.

Tony rested his hand on Peter’s head, watching him, then murmured, “Good boy. Get me off now, sweetheart. Show Daddy how good you can be.”

Peter was more than eager to obey, and in less than five minutes, Tony was swearing under his breath, hips canting without his permission, and he could barely stutter out a warning before he came down Peter’s throat.

Peter took it like a champ, swallowing every drop and only pulling off when Tony made him. Panting, he looked up at Tony, eyes wide and teary.

Tony brushed a thumb over his cheek for a few moments, then murmured, “Good boy.”

When Peter reached for his leaking, red cock, Tony snapped sharply, “Ah-ah! What’re you doing? You think you deserve to get off by yourself? No, baby, you have to earn that.”

Peter looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “But I—” He gestured vaguely to Tony.

“What, made me come?” Tony rolled his eyes. “No, sweetheart. That was just you thanking me for writing your essay. All you had to do was drool all over my cock and show me how grateful you were for my generosity. Not exactly a hard feat like, say, writing an essay, is it? Not for a greedy little thing like you, at least.”

Peter stared at him, jaw slack and hanging open.

Tony grinned, and it was mean. “This, though...” He reached down and formed a loose ‘o’ with his hand, stroking Peter’s cock from the base to the head in one easy, smooth motion. “We’ll see about this. Get on the bed.”

Peter immediately scrambled to obey, and Tony’s grin grew.

Oh, he was going to make Peter beg, and enjoy every single moment of it.

__________

A few weeks later, Peter came marching up to Tony’s desk, then slapped down a package of paper.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter jabbed his index finger at the 98%, written and circled in red, at the top of the first page. “My essay,” he said, proudly, making Tony bite back a laugh.

“A ninety-eight,” Tony mused, picking it up and leafing through it. “Not bad, huh?”

“It’s perfect.” Peter maneuvered himself onto his lap, straddling him and mouthing along his neck.

“Two percent away from perfect.” Tony tossed the paper back onto the desk and let his hands drift down to squeeze Peter’s ass, hard enough for his nails to dig in even through the sweatpants. “Should’ve been a hundred. Must’ve lost a mark or two ‘cause your mouth distracted me.”

“Not my fault I’m so good,” Peter chirped.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, good at being a filthy slut.”

Peter ignored him. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll get that hundred for me.”

Grinning, Tony pulled back to look at Peter’s face, then kissed him, wet and hard and sloppy. Peter’s chest was heaving by the time they pulled apart, and he pushed his thumb through his lips and into his mouth, watching him suck languidly for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, baby boy. You’re right. There’s always next time.”

Because they both knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

#starker #tony/peter #tony x peter #ironspider #tonypeter #nff #dom!tony #sub!peter #my fics #sexually motivated academic dishonesty series

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elleonmybeloved · 3 years

Text

Inspired by the beautiful art I saw recently of a kiss-dazed Diluc saying that he supposed you could continue, and from my own Diluc randomly coming home for absolute free on a random pull, I present you:

Kissing Booth!

Diluc x Female Adventurer Reader

Rated T: Lots of kissing in the dark with the big D himself.

~~~

With slow, drawn out movements, you did your best to set up the booth in the square. Around you, the other adventure teams set up normal ones, like cupcakes, charm bracelets, and assortments of artifacts. You cast a wistful gaze at them, wishing your group had also had some artifacts to sell.

In order to make the funding competition more fair and prevent repeats, each group had to draw a concept from a hat and make their booth sell that particular thing. Unfortunately, somebody had the great and hilarious idea to put some joke prompts in there, and your group had the great misfortune to pull the one and only paper marked “kissing booth” from it.

Admittedly, you had been kind of expecting Bennett’s group to draw that one, so the situation completely blindsided you. You weren’t the only girl on your adventure team, but Felicia had a boyfriend, so the burden was left to you.

“Hey, need a hand?” Jack, a fellow adventurer asks, having approached you with a friendly wave. “I noticed you don’t have your booth set up yet and Katheryn says we’re starting in five minutes.”

“Thanks Jack, but I’m good.” You give him an awkward smile. “Other than the curtain, the box, these chairs…” You sigh. “Aaaand this lipstick, there isn’t really anything else to set up.”

“Oh, okay.” He deflates, probably thinking you are denying him because he doesn’t seem useful.

As much as you’d like to hide behind the thick red velvet of the curtain, your group needs funding, and you’re not about to be the reason nobody can get their blades and armor fixed up at the blacksmith for the next several months.

“I guess, if you don’t mind, you can help me put this on top.” You acquiesce, throwing him a bone. Holding up a sign that says “Kissing Booth: One kiss for 1,000 Mora”, you gesture at the top of the wooden booth, where there’s a couple nails hammered in to hang the sign on.

“Leave it to me!” He says, and takes the sign from your hands to place it, dreadfully, in plain sight, right where it’s supposed to be.

“Thanks.” You say, trying hard to sound genuine lest he misunderstand.

“No problem! See ya, and good luck fundraising!”

He’s off with a whistle, and you wonder if he even read the sign he just hung up for you. Oh well, whatever.

A few minutes later, the chime of a handheld bell rings through the courtyard, and you hear Katheryn’s voice announcing, “Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild’s Biannual Fundraising Fair.”

Resigned to your fate, you draw back the velvet curtain and sit in your chair, gripping the tube of red lipstick harder than you would the handle of your sword if you came across an entire nest of giant slimes.

People filter into the square, most making a beeline for the sweets, and several crowding around the artifact booths to get first pickings of the feathers, goblets, and timepieces alike. With no flashy goods at your table, it’s a while before anybody even notices you. When a few people, you are relieved to see them laugh, and say “Look, they made a joke booth this year too, haha!” You let out a nervous laugh and give them a good natured smile.

You notice immediately when your luck runs out, a gaggle of young men and women just out of the cupcake booth heading your way. The exaggerated “No way, seriously?” accompanied by obnoxious giggles from one of the girls lets you know that they aren’t paired off, and the “Well if it isn’t my lucky day” from a lanky guy with a fashionable undercut and a flashy ear piercing tolls the bell of your doom.

“Hi, welcome.” You manage to greet the group with a stiff smile.

“You’re selling kisses?” One of the guys, a shorter one with black hair asks.

“... Yes.” You reply. “One thousand mora each.”

“Real kisses?” The flashy guy is the one to ask this time, leaning forward with a piercing look. “Like on the lips?”

“Or somewhere else on the face.” You suggest hopefully. “But yes.”

“Well then. Allow me to be your first customer. I’ll start off with three kisses, all on the lips. If you don’t mind.”

You do mind. But what can you do. At least he’s not ugly, but the amused stares of his group at your situation are humiliating, and your cheeks get hot with shame as you stare down at the table and he counts out three thousand mora, placing them on the table in front of you.

Applying a fresh coat of red lipstick buys you only a few seconds, and then he is leaning in expectantly. You close your eyes and resolve to make it as quick as possible.

“Stop!”

The voice is so sharp you startle in your chair as your eyes fly open. Crossing his arms and scowling, Diluc Ragnvindr stalks over and stands between you and flashy guy.

“Huh? Why? What’s the deal, man? I properly paid, count it if you don’t believe me?” Flashy Guy looks confused.

“That’s not the issue, just take your money and go.” Diluc swipes the coins off the counter and insistently presses the fist of them against flashy guy’s chest until the other man bewilderedly accepts it.

“Um, okay. I’m just gonna… go?” He and his group of friends leave, the girls already breaking into gossipy whispers before they’re even out of earshot.

“Uh, hi Diluc. Why’d you do that?”

Diluc turns to face you at your question, an annoyed expression on his face. “You’re really asking me why, Y/n? … Seriously, why would you even go through with such an idea in the first place?”

You frown at the implication in his tone. “I didn’t have a choice. And my group needs the money.”

“You should’ve made them give you a different booth concept.”

“I tried. Groups aren’t allowed to change concepts, since it would be unfair.” You explain with a sigh. As relieved as you are to have gotten out of kissing anyone so far, the weight of the empty mora box you are supposed to fill weighs heavily on the back of your mind.

“... You just need to sell all your stock, right? How much were you going to sell?”

You look up, and take a moment to think about it. “I guess I was hoping to get away with just fifty. Fifty thousand mora could possibly last us a few months… if we’re lucky and nobody’s sword gets shattered to pieces from a superconduct reaction again.”

“Make it a hundred, and I’ll just pay for it.”

“Huh?” You blink. “Oh, wow, thank you! That’s very generous of you. I wonder how I will explain all this to anybody who asks though…” Unable to help a cringe at the thought of your friends and guild mates teasing you for being the kiss-whore of the town, Diluc takes in your troubled expression with a raised brow.

“That’s none of anyone’s business.”

“Yeah but… if someone does find out you uh, sponsored us a hundred thousand mora, and didn’t even receive anything in return…” You play nervously with your hands, already imagining the protests of unfairness. “...But I guess I’ll just deal with it since the only way I can see managing to avoid that is if I actually give you a hundred kisses, ahaha.”

“...”

Dammit, this is awkward, why did you have to joke like that? Diluc is looking at you with an intense unreadable expression. You can’t help but squirm.

“What?”

“That’s a good solution. Let’s do it.”

“Oh. Really?” You stammer, feeling heat rise to your face. You’ve had a crush on Diluc for the longest time, but never in your wildest dreams would you think he felt the same. “With me? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. But I would appreciate a little privacy. Move over.”

You’re still reeling as he makes his way around and comes in the booth, leaning back instinctively to get out of his way as he reaches over and unbinds the thick velvet curtain, leaving the two of you in the dim red light that barely filters through the fabric.

Diluc pulls the second chair up next to yours, and sits facing you. He takes a pouch out of his pocket and places it on the counter of the booth next to you with a faint clink. You don’t even have to count to know there’s a hundred thousand mora in there, it’s a fat enough pouch.

Taking a deep breath, you begin, uncapping the lipstick to apply a fresh coat.

“Is that part necessary?” Diluc asks.

You falter, lips already cherry red. You don’t know what to say. Does he think it looks bad on you? You can’t help flushing in shame. “Oh, sorry.”

“No- it’s ugh, it’s fine. Continue. Please.” Diluc backtracks, placatively patting the air with his hand.

A long moment of charged tension passes, as you try and fail to work up the nerve to close the distance. His lips look so soft and the way his jaw works as he swallows sends a thrill through you.

“......”

With a small noise of impatience, Diluc shifts in his seat— and then kisses you, pressing his lips firmly against your own until you relax and melt back into him. He begins to rub his lips back and forth against yours, and strokes the shell of your ear with a gloved hand. The sensation makes you shiver. His breath is loud in your ears.

Heat builds up within you, threatening to burst. Your brain struggles to comprehend- Diluc, whom you’ve loved for the longest time, is kissing you.

Your breath catches in your throat at a particularly assertive press of his lips, and at the startled sound, Diluc breaks away.

“You okay? Still enjoying this, or…?” He asks, voice a rich murmur for your ears only.

“I’m fine, m-more than fine ahah,” You giggle breathlessly. “But I’m the one who’s supposed to be kissing you.”

“Hurry up then. You were taking too long.”

The implication of his feelings in the way he says it fills you with sudden confidence, and you smile and give him a look before leaning in and pressing a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. It leaves you exhilarated and buzzing, and a squeezing saccharine urge bubbles up within you. Resisting the sudden desire to clench your teeth, you swoop in and attack his face with kisses, pressing your lips into the smooth skin of his cheek several times before moving to the other one. Diluc gives a breathless laugh and you feel like your heart will just burst. The soft, tsck tsck tsck sound of repeated kisses fills your ears.

After his cheeks have received enough attention, you move down to his jaw, the slight indication of ginger stubble prickling against your lips as you give it a few smooches in adoration before moving to the sensitive skin of his neck. It’s warm and so soft against your lips, you can’t resist going further than you should and opening your lips after kissing to suck on it. The surprised, needy sound Diluc makes sends a distinctive squeeze somewhere lower than your stomach full of butterflies.

You hesitate, and then do it again. He gives a low grunt this time, and your head spins at how quickly the two of you are losing control. Somehow reminded of all the girls in Mondstadt who swoon over and try to woo Diluc, you place a restraining hand on his shoulder before diving in and sucking hard right below his jaw.

“Hey-!” Diluc hisses and pushes you off.

You startle out of your love-addled haze and are squeaking out the beginning of a frantic apology when Diluc roughly grasps both of your thighs and lifts you out of your chair and deposits you onto his lap.

Thrown off balance, you scramble to steady yourself, squishing your body against his chest and gripping both his shoulders to right yourself.

“What’s the big idea?” You ask, giving him a look as you recover your composure. “I almost fell!”

“I would’ve caught you. And if you want to kiss me like that, you’re gonna have to fully commit to it.” Diluc says, raising an eyebrow and giving you a cool glance right back. “I’m not going to get a hickey from someone sitting across from me in another chair like some nervous Church of Barbatos deacon in training.”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” You huff. He has a point. “You could be a bit less rough with me, though.”

Diluc blinks and averts his eyes for a moment. “... Right. Sorry, Y/n. Wasn’t intentional.”

“Yeah, I know.” You roll your eyes at him, thinking of how he throws his claymore around like a weightless treebranch.

Adjusting once more to get yourself comfortable atop his thighs, you apply another coat of lipstick. Leaning in, you're about to press another adoring kiss to his cheek when he turns his head, catching your lips instead. Your gasp of surprise melts into a whimper as he gets aggressive with it, pushing your mouths hard together with a gloved hand at the base of your head. You can’t escape his onslaught. Kiss after kiss, he doesn’t stop until you are gasping for air and then just dives right back in. Your mind goes blank of all thoughts, puddling into an empty haze.

When you come to your senses… a long time later, your lips are swollen, head dizzy from lack of oxygen, and … — Diluc’s gloves are on the floor, his face blissed out and slack, the sight sending a spear of heat straight through your stomach to your core. You swallow dry, clenching your thighs on either side of his and slide your hand down his stomach, and OHhhhgod abort, somebody is pushing the red curtain aside, flooding the small space with bright light.

“Oh, what the-! What in Barbatos’ name are you two doing in here?” Cyrus asks, rearing back with a shocked expression. “Archons, Y/n, I thought you’d left the booth behind.”

“Master Cyrus?!?” You’re just. Frozen stiff in Diluc’s lap, mortified. But instead of letting you scramble out of his lap, Diluc tightens his arms around you, trapping you in his embrace.

“Despite being given a ridiculous product, Y/n managed to sell all her stock to me. I hope there isn’t a problem with that.”

Cyrus stammers in the face of the thinly veiled accusation, monocle nearly slipping off his face. “Yes well. I’m not in charge of the prompts, miss Katheryn is… ahem, anyways, the fundraising event is over now. We’re taking down the booths and moving them to the Adventure Wagon.”

“Oh, okay.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear, still flustered. “I’ll be right there.”

“You gonna need help taking the booth down and carrying it over, kid?” The blond older man asks, an unsure look on his face as he eyes your companion.

“I’ll take care of it.” Diluc says before you can answer, and you nod belatedly.

“Alright. See ya.”

When Cyrus is gone, the two of you are once again shrouded in red-tinted darkness, but the noisy sounds of people walking and loading things onto the wagon is unmistakable.

“...So, um… anyways…” You begin awkwardly.

“—That wasn’t a hundred.” Diluc cuts you off.

“...Huh?”

“That wasn’t a hundred. So you can deliver the rest of them later this evening. I’ll tell Adelinde to keep an ear out for you, so just knock if the Winery is closed by the time you arrive. I have some work to do with the guild but I should be done with all my most important business by five.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You smile shyly. “Far be it from me to not deliver in a timely manner.”

“That’s my girl.” He says with a wry smile. “Blessedly quick on the uptake.”

“We should take the booth up before Master Cyrus comes back.” You admit reluctantly, climbing off his lap as he releases his grip on you.

“Let me do the heavy lifting.” Diluc insists, and the two of you come out the back and get to work on taking it down.

You try to help carry one of the smaller supports over to the wagon, but Diluc just says “I’m the one with the gloves, so I’m the one handing the wood. You’ll get splinters.” and shoves the Kissing Booth sign into your hands instead.

Diluc is… covered in lipstick kissmarks, and though several of your guild mates see and remark on it, there isn’t a trace of the pink on Diluc’s cheeks that you had seen in the booth as he gives cool responses. Remembering the sight of him, flushed and dazed and panting, has you nearly dropping the stupid sign though, and you hastily distract yourself from the thoughts of his lips that had tasted faintly sweet like grape juice… with the fate of Bennett’s booth.

You’re not sure what happened, but somehow it got burnt down to a crisp. Vaguely you recall he had drawn candles as a selling prompt. Ah. You can more or less guess what happened. Poor Benny.

“See you tonight.” You give Diluc a little wave goodbye when you’re finished, and he’s about to leave.

Catching your hand, he gives you a kiss this time, getting the top of your hand smudged with the faint remnants of your lipstick. “Don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m a busy man.”

#genshin impact #Diluc x reader #Diluc x female reader #kissing #genshin impact diluc #not tumblr refusing to copy paste it in the right format I-#I’ll Reupload it with the formatting later i cannot #*rageee*

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magireco · 3 years

Note

out of curiosity what do you think of the characterization of homura in rebellion? i hugely dislike it but get the impression you enjoy it which i think is interesting cuz we seem to have very similar thoughts on homura pre-rebellion (CORRECT ME IF I AM WRONG)

THIS IS INTERESTING BECAUSE IT DEPENDS ON WHAT FLAVOR OF REBELLION HOMURA YOU MEAN. i really really like the way she was done in the first half of the movie but as for the twist at the end...? mmm...

...okay, so... i've been thinking about saying this at some point but i keep avoiding it in fear of causing discourse and such bc... this is a really unpopular opinion apparently, but I really do not think devil homura was done properly. read under the cut if you wanna know why i feel this way!

the first issue i'm going to address is that there wasn't NEARLY enough buildup for it. i'm going to explain this from the perspective of a first-time viewer: what would you have thought would happen after the very last scene of rebellion leading up to them breaking homura out of her soul gem? when homulilly got purified and the flowers on her head turned to sakura flowers (y'know, the flowers that symbolize life and rebirth, homura being reborn from her witch)? did you think homura was suddenly gonna undermine madoka's godliness? because, uh, first-view me did not think that at all. and neither did almost anyone i know who watched it for the first time. not only is that poor setup but it's just so sudden and it feels so out of character compared to what we'd seen in the entire series as a whole, especially considering that the entire last part of the movie leading up until that was about purifying her... and saving her... there wasn't enough buildup. most people are like "but the flower scene happened!" but that's still way too vague...? it's hard to tell what conclusion homura comes to at the end, because we don't get to see any of her internal monologue... there is no other buildup after the flower scene... it just skips to homura realizing she's a witch. wouldn't that bring the viewer to think the flower scene was something that made homura realize she was a witch rather than her suddenly starting to form her plan? it always felt like to me the conclusion homura came to at the end of the flower scene was that she was validating madoka's bravery and telling her that if it ever came to that, she'd have the ability to make that hard decision. which is... so... weird? because i always interpreted that as homura coming to terms with what happened? i could just be interpreting it wrong though, but isn't that supposed to be our proof scene? our buildup scene? why would they make it so hard to understand? we need to know such important buildup points just as blatantly as the natural buildup to homura becoming a witch was. that's just from a moviemaking & writing perspective though.

secondly, i'm gonna discuss homura's motive. i actually ended up understanding were she was coming from after a while of being like "what the hell that makes zero sense!!!!". madoka is a 14-year-old girl who, in order to save the fate of every magical girl, literally had to sacrifice herself and erase herself from the world, and in the end, madoka just ended up saving homura again, and that must've made homura feel like her promise with madoka was never fulfilled. it's unfair what happened when you think about it and the law of cycles should not have been run by madoka herself because she, as any other 14 year old, deserves to be happy on earth. although it was said in magireco that madoka felt happy with what she was doing (and she felt like it truly gave her a purpose), she did admit to feeling lonely and homura probably made that assumption big time. but the way the writers went about it just made her seem so sinister... so out-of-character-ly sinister. what with the evil smirking and the deepened, almost... uh, sensual-seeming voice, and homura completely ignoring madoka's fear. it feels like they twisted her character extremely suddenly and it throws the viewer on a loop. they could've gone with that ending without making such drastic and sudden changes to homura's character, and if they were planning on doing that, why did they not give us more buildup? buildup that wasn't extremely cryptic that you have to scan and search every detail to get a clue? something i love about rebellion is that every time you watch you find something new, but how come some of the only clues illuding to devil homura's existence are in the op? it's odd. why didn't they go with something like making the incubators run the law of cycles? they were the ones at fault for causing it to be created. but honestly, the incubators cannot be trusted with anything, which is why it'd make sense for a magical girl to run the law of cycles, but if homura and madoka had the combined power to do so, what if they just remade the law of cycles so it was less unfair to madoka...? i don't know. either of those possibilites would make more sense than what happened.

something else that kind of irks me about it is that they demonized(literally, lol) homura's love for madoka. homura is very much a canon lesbian, and it's incredibly discomforting to me that they made her seem, outwardly to the viewer, so selfish...? please don't get me wrong, i'm not ACTUALLY calling homura selfish -- i know the entire akumura facade is a mask she put on, but like, it's so much more blatantly sinister than she is in the series when she's putting on the coolmura facade. it's going to really confuse the viewer and see every single one of her actions from the entire series in a completely different light, INCLUDING stuff that happened in rebellion itself. like the genuine sadness homura felt, the way we saw into her soul and felt her pain, that genuinely made a lot of people i've seen think that it was ingenuine upon first inspection... they made homura turn "evil" out of her love for madoka, as if it's a bad thing to fall in love, and as if love for another girl was what corrupted her soul gem... i understand that gen urobuchi probably wanted to explore that kind of path where love leads to obsession or whatever, but homura was selfless to a fault, constantly trying to force herself away from the others in order to not get attached, and deeply afraid of seeming creepy and predatory and scaring(she said this herself), which is exactly what she ends up doing at the end, and i feel so awful that they did that to her... how is the viewer supposed to know what her true motives are at that point? it gets all scrambled up after they did that huge plot twist. i'm going to address another thing super quick before people jump in my ask box over this, i understand also that it would make sense for homura to be obsessed with madoka, but in the series, it was never shown in this light, and like i said, if they were going to do this, why'd they even have the purification scene at the end at all? the buildup is all wrong . it also just made me upset that this ending caused SO many people to start literally believing homura is evil because of her actions at the end, and it made people become even more vehement on their beliefs that homura is obsessive and ps*cho...

i was really confused when i watched it for the first time (and also sobbing hysterically, literally, my funniest rebellion story as someone who has genuinely watched the movie 40-ish times, i remember vividly the first time i watched it i started sobbing on my hands and knees on a yoga mat in my mom's room). also like, just to prove my point a teensy bit more, the ending was so ambiguous and out of nowhere that one of the first google results to "madoka magica rebellion" is "madoka magica rebellion ending explained" because it shocked people so much that that was the first thing they needed to google. also, the fact they left us on such a vague cliffhanger and then abandoned the movie series for a total of 8 whole years only to make a sudden comeback in god's holy year of 2021 was almost cruel. LIKE GUYS I JUST FINISHED UP MY DEVIL HOMURA HEADCANONS IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!!!

...anyways, um, i really have to address the sexualization. madoka magica, previously, was a series that avoided fanservice in the show, at least, but why did they make akumura's design look like that...? it shows an unsettling amount of skin and like, every three seconds in the end they're focusing intensely on her lips and her eyes and... it's almost like the writers forgot she was 14, but they never seemed to forget that in the series? what happened????? in the transformation scene, we get closeup views of homura's thighs and back and stuff and it's all open everywhere... they made her tights into thigh-highs... in the whole series, even when she went to school, she always wore tights, and she was wearing tights in her magical girl outfit too... they absolutely deliberately did that to sexualize her further so they could make official art with her thighs out. speaking of official art that unsettles me, why does so much of the official art make the whole outfit just glued to her body and you can see all the shading on her features... it's just. ugh. anyways.

i went off a LITTLE too much on this and i know this is probably gonna get me some weird glances in the fandom and i am open to hearing other people's opinions but i don't think i'll ever stop disliking the effect this plot twist had on the fandom's interpretation of homura and although i'm like UNDENIABLY incredibly hyper excited for the next movie, i'm kind of...nervous for what this is going to bring? i don't want this next movie to cause the same amount of discourse the ending of rebellion did and i legit just want to see homura happy. another one of my main issues with the ending is just that homura is SO unhappy when she literally deserves to be happy SOOOOOOO BAD and just take a break from all the loops ... i'm Praying to madokami out there that that's what happens.

i know this is all really funny coming from someone who draws devil homura on a regular basis and literally writes her, but like... i'm a lesbian i'm allowed to<3

ANYWAYS thanks for listening this was a fun ask!!!

#asks #neorattz #rambles #analysis #rebellion tag #IM DEADASS AFRAID TO DROP THIS #like... something i was too afraid to mention is that i Have unlisted disorders that are heavily stigmatized #and the reason why they are unlisted is literally bc of that #and i feel like i'm allowed to have a negative stance on this kind of thing because of that #not that someone who doesn't have those things isn't allowed to have these opinions OR opposing opinions but like #i've seen some people choose to cope through devil homura which like.#i get that.#and then i've seen other people use devil homura as an example on why homura is an obsessed psycho girl who only loves madoka #and hates everyone else #which is also partially where my issue stems from.#it's complicated. just like the ending of rebellion!!!!! LOLL

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buckysflannelpajamas · 3 years

Text

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

TRIGGER WARNING: victim blaming (though he doesn’t mean it) and mention of attempted r*pe and past attempted s*icide

Beep

Ugh. What is that sound? It’s disturbing your sleep.

Slowly, you open your tired eyes to find yourself in a dull grey room. Your heartbeat starts to pick up when you realize this isn’t your room.

Where are you?

The sound of the beeping quickens as your eyes race around the room, trying to figure out where you are. Dull grey walls, uncomfortable bed, heart rate monitor, IV bag… you must be in a hospital.

Shit, what happened?

You can’t help but notice that the IV is connected to a needle in your vain. Your heart rate continues to rise. Fuck, you hate needles! You move your hand to pull it out, only to be stopped by a large hand gently grabbing yours.

“Woah, woah, woah. You're ok, just take it easy.” A cold hand presses your shoulder gently to get you to lay back down.

“Bucky?” You recognize the voice immediately. Why are you in a hospital and what is Bucky doing here? Just as the questions enter your mind, fuzzy memories of the night start to drift back.

Arthur, the car, Bucky, the ambulance.

Oh shit, what did you get yourself into.

“You’re in the hospital.” Bucky starts. “You, Uh, had a ruff night.” Seeing that you’ve calmed down, Bucky carefully takes his hands away.

You don’t say it, but deep down you don’t want him to take his hands away.

“I know, I remember… well, kind of.”

“That’s good. You must not have gotten too high a dose.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You groan to yourself.

“You got that fucking right.” Bucky agrees.

Wait… what? Wasn’t he being nice to you last night?

“Excuse me?” You question, unsure you heard him correctly.

Bucky takes a step back from you, starting to pace. “I mean, what were you thinking?! Leaving the compound unsupervised!”

“I took a few steps outside! I didn’t think it would be a big deal!” You defend. It was one thing if you were upset at yourself about what happened, but Bucky has no right to be.

“Well it was! You’re fucking lucky that it was just some scumbag actor that took you and and not a group like Hydra! Also, seriously? Hasn’t your father ever told you to not take your eyes off your drink?!” Bucky continues to rant. “Or maybe you thought it’d be fun to be rebellious and try whatever drug he offered you?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. How dare he! How dare he have the audacity to suggest that you were stupid enough to just take drugs from a stranger!

Bucky opens his mouth to yell again but you interrupt him. You’re tired of taking his shit and letting him do all the talking.

“Fuck you!” You shout. “How dare you suggest that I would be stupid enough to take drugs from a stranger! And don’t get on to me about watching my drink. I assumed that I wouldn’t get drugged in my own house while surrounded by Avengers!” As you rant you decide that it was time to put it out all in the air. To let him know how wrong he is about everything. “Also, what’s your fucking problem with me? You say I'm too happy and nice, well so is Steve and I don’t see you screaming at him? And by the way, I’m not this happy-go-lucky person all the time! New flash Barnes, everybody has shit they deal with, some are just better at hiding it than others!” Your fists are clenched and your chest is heaving as you continue to yell. “You wanna know why I have daddy issues? Cause I tried to fucking kill myself a few years ago! And my dad, instead of letting me recover and go to therapy in the medical wing of the tower, he sent me off, knowing how terrified I was of doctors and hospitals. And to top it all off, he didn’t even visit, make a phone call or even write me a fucking letter! Not to mention that he hates that I do art and has never once said he is proud of me! I mean, he likes that fucking spider kid more than me!”

“Y/n I’m sorr-“ Bucky starts.

“I’m not done.” You cut him off. “I’m sorry about what Hydra did to you, I really am. But everyone has their own shit. The rest of us just chooses not to take it out on other people.” You sigh, finally done.

Bucky stares at you silently, unsure of what to say. You had just dropped a bomb on him and he was thoroughly unprepared.

“Get out.” You tell him quietly, too worn out to yell anymore.

Bucky doesn't put up a fight, simply nodding. He walks slowly to the door, hesitating before leaving. “I’ll tell Tony you’re awake…. I’m sorry y/n.”

As soon as Bucky closes the door, you let out a sigh as you fall back against the bed, already wanting this day to be done.

You're sitting up, sipping on the small juice box the nurse had left by your bed while flipping through the channels on the hospital TV.

The door to your room creaks open, Tony coming from behind it.

“How ya holding up kid?”

You shrug, setting the juice down and muting the TV. “Fine I guess… the juice here is good.”

Tony walks further into the room. “That’s good.” He takes a seat at the end of the bed.

A few moments pass, neither of you knowing what to say. The tension in the room is thick and one of you would have to be the first to cut it.

“Dad.” You finally speak. “We need to talk.”

Tony sighs, an awkward half smile making its way to his face. “Why do I get the feeling that you're not referring to last night?”

“Why-“ your voice cracks, your emotions weighing heavy on you. “Why did you send me away?” You start to tear up. “Why didn’t you call or visit?”

Tony clears his throat, clearly feeling the same emotions bubbling up as you. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

This pisses you off. “You could have had me stay in the hospital wing of the tower! You could have been there for me instead of sending me off like some kind of unwanted burden!” Tears start to leak out of your eyes. “Just like my mom did.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

You had never met your mom, didn’t know anything other than that she was one of Tony’s one night stands. She never cared about you, didn’t even care enough to name you. She simply left you in a basket in the lobby of Stark industries with a note claiming you were his daughter.

Tony moves right beside you, taking your hands in both of his. “You can’t possibly think that.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s only moments away from crying.

“What was I supposed to think!” You cry.

Tony’s lip quivers as he speaks, two heavy tears falling down his cheeks. “I made a mistake.” He admits. “I thought you would do better being around people you could relate to. That’s why I sent you off.”

“And the reason you didn’t call or visit?” Your shaking hand wipes tears from your eyes.

“When- When you found out I was sending you to a facility upstate you told me you hated me. That you never wanted to see or hear from me again.” Tony pauses. “I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

Then it hits you, it was all your fault. If you had never said those terrible things to your father he may have come to see you.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, hey, don’t do that.” Tony pulls you close, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you hug. “It was my mistake, I shouldn’t have listened to you. It’s my fault.”

“Dad, you think everything’s your fault.”

“So do you.”

You both laugh lightly. Like father, like daughter.

Tony pulls away from the hug, just enough that you can look him in the eyes. “I just need to know… why’d you do it kid?”

You sigh, frowning. “It’s not anything in particular… it’s just, in the moment, you feel so sad and worthless that you think the only way you can escape the pain is to- is to end it.”

“I’m so sorry you ever felt like that.” Tony apologizes. “I should have known.”

You shake your head. “You can’t fault yourself for that. I hid it well, you couldn’t have known.”

“Still, I just-“

“Let’s not not ruin the moment with ‘ifs and buts’, ok? We’ve finally got it out in the open and now we can move on, right?” You suggest.

Well you worked out most of your problems. He has still never told you that he’s proud of you, but that’s an issue for a later date.

Tony nods, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re right, and besides, you have a visitor coming soon.”

You look at him in confusion. Who did he tell?

Before you can even ask, the sound of pounding feet coming running down the hall and into your room.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Peter Parker. And he’s brought flowers.

“You told him?” You angrily whisper to your dad.

“He was worried about you when he didn’t see you at the tower.” He whispers back.

“You could’ve-“ you start to speak but cut yourself of as Peter makes his way over to you.

“Hey Peter.” You sigh. Your feelings towards the boy were complicated. On one hand, you resent him for his relationship with your dad, but on the other, the kid was really sweet and hard to dislike. He was almost like an annoying little brother to you.

“Hey y/n! I’m sorry about uh…” he trails off, not sure what to say. “I brought you flowers!” He changes the subject. “I didn’t know what kind you like so I got you a mix!” He smiles brightly.

You smile back softly, taking the vase of the artificially dyed flowers and setting them on the bedside table.

“Thanks Pete.”

Tony smiles at Peter. “That’s nice of you kid.”

Peter shrugs. “It’s no big deal, I mean, that's what you do for people in hospitals right?”

You nod absentmindedly as you read the card attached to the vase. You furrow your brows as you read it aloud. “Congratulations, welcome to motherhood…”

Both you and Tony give Peter an amused look.

Peter blushes, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t read it.” He lets out a soft, awkward laugh.

You smile at him genuinely as you chuckle. “Don’t sweat it kid… Now, does anyone know when I can get out of here? I’m dying for a cheeseburger.”

“I’ll let the doctor know you're up and we can go from there.” Tony gives you a pat on the shoulder before getting up from the bed and moving towards the door. “Com’ on Pete, let's give her some privacy so she can change.”

Peter nods, following after your dad. “Later y/n!”

“Later Pete.”

3rd person, Bucky’s perspective

“I fucked up.” Bucky admits as he walks into his shared apartment.

Steve, from the couch hears Bucky come in. “Bucky what the hell happened? Is y/n ok?” He jumps up from his spot and makes his way over to Bucky.

Bucky furrows his brows. “Haven’t you talked to Stark?”

“No.” Steve replies. “The only person I’ve heard from all night is you when you told me that y/n was in an accident and that you were at the hospital.”

“She…” Bucky pauses, debating on how to relay the information. “She left with this guy, some actor… he had drugged her and took her to a motel.” Bucky notices Steve clench his fists.

“Did he-“

“No.” Bucky responds immediately. “I got there just in time.”

Steve sighs, visibly relaxing. “Thank goodness. How is she doing?”

“She's fine. She’s pissed at me but fine.”

Steve groans. “What’d you do now?”

“I yelled at her...Basically said it was her fault.” Bucky admits.

“Why the hell would you do that?!” Now Steve is pissed. “She’s been nothing but nice to you and all you do is treat her like trash!” Steve starts to rant.

“I know, ok! I messed up and now I don’t know what to do!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Why do you even care? You act like you hate her.”

Bucky groans. “I don’t hate her! Look, I don’t know why but I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s so sweet and perfect and beautiful! I guess I was just pissed because I knew I could never have her! So acted like an ass to make her hate me so the feelings would go away. But it didn’t work, and I only yelled at her this morning because I was so upset with myself for not being there to protect her sooner.”

“You’re an idiot, Barnes.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “And I want to fix it. I don’t expect her to ever want to be with me after the way I’ve been acting, but I’d like to at the very least let her know I’m sorry.”

“Maybe start with saying you’re sorry.”

“I don’t think she's going to want to listen to anything I have to say.”

“Then write a note.” Steve suggests. “And attach it to a pack of sour gummy worms.”

“Gummy worms?”

“She loves them. Give her some of those and she might accept your apology.”

Bucky nods. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well she loves Star Wars…”

When Bucky heard y/n had called the Avengers to a meeting, he was surprised to say the least… and a little nervous. Was she going to demand he be kicked out? Not that he will put up a fight, he knows he deserves it.

“Any idea what this is about?” Sam, who is sitting next to Bucky at the table in the meeting room, asks.

Before bucky can respond, y/n walks in, not an ounce of unease shown in her presence.

The Avengers all stop murmuring, giving y/n there full attention.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. I’m not going to pussy-foot around it. It’s going to come out to everyone eventually so I thought it would be best that it comes from me. Last night an actor at the party drugged me, took me to a motel, and attempted to rape me.” She doesn't even hesitate to say it. “I’m fine, he was stopped in time and arrested. No, I will not be talking about it further or answering any questions. If you’re upset, talk about it to someone who’s not me.” She pauses, looking over the faces of everyone in the room, excluding Bucky. “You’re all dismissed.”

Y/n leaves the room, leaving the team to sit and absorb the information just dropped on them.

Before y/n can get too far away, Bucky follows after her, rushing down the hall to catch up to her.

“Y/n wait!”

“I already said I’m not talking about it.” She continues walking down the hall.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky shouts, before she is too far away to hear him.

Y/n surprisingly stops and turns around. “You’re only sorry because you pity me, not because you actually mean it.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x stark!reader #fanfiction

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

On the Issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Whether weather whether weather, whether you're invulnerable or not!

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I can control my powers now! The only downside is I’m not invincible anymore, sooo I could die.”

“WHAT?!”

Same, Pigsy. Same.

Monkey King doesn’t do much, when it comes to his successor. Not at first.

Sure, he watches the Kid from time to time, just to see what’s going on. Which isn’t creepy, not at all, it’s just...well, how else is he supposed to check on Kid? Besides, he’s not watching him 24/7, and he can tell when the Kid is in trouble now, from the flare of power he feels whenever Kid is using the staff or some other ability.

Sometimes, though, there’s no fight. Like when he lets Mei shoot rockets at him. Comical as it is, he can tell Kid is letting all this power get to his head.

But hey, why not? Kid beat DBK, let him have a little fun. Monkey King isn’t going to knock him for that, not when he did much worse back in his day. Way worse

Yeah...he really had an arc, didn’t he.

He lets it go until he feels a massive flare, one that definitely isn’t controlled. He summons nimbus and heads off, and finds Kid in a crater of his own making, looking lost.

Then, Kid tries to shove the whole “stopping the bad guys” thing onto him, and, like, hello?? He gave Kid the staff for a reason. He’s retired. Totally, definitely retired.

“Every time I try to do something I just gunk everything up! Something’s wrong...” There’s something deeper to those words, more vulnerable and hurt than Monkey King is ready for. He isn’t Kid’s dad.

Wait, does Kid even have a dad? Is that something he needs to be concerned about? Whatever, the Kid’s at least eighteen, he’s an adult. Adults don’t need dads. Monkey King didn’t need one, just look at him. He’s the great Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Monkey King. Who needs parents?

Monkey King gets up, hops on the Kid’s shoulders to get a closer look, as well as groom the kid a little, because his hair is a mess. Humans have all these advancements with soap and showers and they can’t even get their hair clean. Clearly, monkeys have it figured out. Nothing gets someone cleaner than a good grooming. And hey, he finds a little snack in there!

He uses his golden vision of his for a second as he grooms Kid, and, yup.

There’s the problem.

Making the Kid freak out a little is all for fun, but the root of the issue is something Monkey King didn’t want to have to deal with. A general lack of martial arts skill is easy, you just teach them the basics and work from there. What’s wrong with Kid is going to take a lot more work, emotional work, and Monkey King didn’t think he’d have to expend that sort of energy for this.

The issue, of course, is simple. Lack of self confidence.

“I have self confidence!”

“Nope. You’re just loud.” And that’s the thing, Monkey King understands. He was always loud but he was confident not long after. Then again, he got his powers gradually. Poor Kid has them all at once, probably hard to find the confidence for all of that out of nowhere.

Jeez. Why’d he have to pick the Kid with baggage?

Fake it till you make it is what Kid says, and he wants to scream, because that isn’t how it works. If it was, then everyone could use the staff. It takes a specific breed of something that Monkey King knows the Kid has, but isn’t letting out. Self confidence, at its core, comes from a strong foundation. If Kid doesn’t have that, then they have to start from scratch, which takes time.

And he’s not that annoyed, he’s willing to wait, but the Kid isn’t. And, sure, yeah, there’s the thing with Red Son (and holy shit, Red Son? That brat is still around? He’s not using the fire, but still) and the Kid’s friends, but they would be fine! Probably. He doesn’t think they’re that incompetent.

But the Kid isn’t satisfied with that so he insists, and Monkey King pulls out a card he doesn’t want to play.

Control over your powers for the price of invincibility. Seriously, if it were him, he’d never. He likes living, thanks. But then again, this Kid is apparently loyal to a fault, because not two seconds after he gives out the idea the Kid is taking it.

And he’s confident, when he seals away the Kid’s powers, but inside he’s terrified.

Suddenly, this Kid can get hurt, can die. This Kid could get hit by a car or smashed by a demon or fall to a host of any other preventable death scenarios because he’s vulnerable now.

And the thing is, Kid doesn’t seem to care? As if the idea of facing unknown horrors with the added bonus of being able to die is just a regular Tuesday, nothing to worry about. Which, that is so, so weird, and startling and Monkey King is a little proud that he picked a student so selfless, so willing to face mortality for the sake of keeping others safe.

But is it even selflessness or a lack of self worth? A lack of self confidence is bad enough, but he doesn’t even know if Kid thinks he’s got value and that’s far more concerning to him than it ought to be.

He’s also got a lot of anxiety now, because he has to watch this Kid, to make sure he doesn’t die randomly. Great.

He flies the Kid to the weather tower, because time is of the essence, and he watches. Every wrong step the Kid takes, he tenses. Every slip up, as Bull Clones go flying and chase after him, as Red Son rushes him—Sun Wukong clenches his fists and physically stops himself from jumping in. He’s retired. Kid’s gotta learn to clean up his own messes.

Kid is actually pretty good at using the staff to block blows. Offensive fighting with it is slow going, though, and Monkey King files that away for plans of future training. He watches the Kid run towards the control panel and the Bull Clones close in, and, for a split second, he feels a little flare.

Golden vision. It flickers in the Kid’s eyes and he doesn’t know what the Kid sees, but Monkey King is sure it’s enough.

Or maybe not, as the Kid gets dog piled on by Bull Clones, Red Son jumping on top of the pile.

Monkey King holds his breath, wondering if he should step in—because he knows Kid needs to learn but what’s the point of learning if you die in the process—and then.

Then.

He lets out a sigh of relief and heads out as lightning strikes the staff, watching the Kid duck behind the control panel to avoid the shock, the explosion. Smart. He always used brute force. Good to know Kid has a head on those shoulders that have more use than just a battering ram.

He vanishes into the horizon as the skies clear, back to Flowering Fruit Mountain. Once there, he takes a deep breath, eats a few peaches. Lays back on his cloud and grooms a monkey or two to try and destress.

It doesn’t work. Dammit. His successor is mortal and vulnerable. This is going to add, like, 5 times the effort he thought he would have to put into training this kid. He has to be careful. He has to be cautious. He can’t just throw things at the kid and expect him to be fine.

Okay. This is fine. Is it? Maybe. Probably not.

Because if the Kid is going to really take up his mantle, he’s going to have to deal with the enemies that come with it. Which means dangerous demons, creatures Monkey King doesn’t dare name, all sorts of dangers that can easily kill someone, if that someone isn’t invulnerable.

He has to give the Kid space, can’t smother him, doesn’t want to. But how is he supposed to breathe easy when his successor can die any time?

Clones, maybe? But those always come back to mess with him if he keeps them around for too long. And he’s an easily bored guy, his clones need action. He doesn’t think babysitting will make them happy.

Ugh, he needs a nap. If he can even find it in himself to sleep, with all these thoughts and questions.

He’ll figure it out. He always does, in the end.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #kitkat1003 #MK #monkey king #sun wukong #monkie kid MK #monkie kid monkey king

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fanfoolishness · 4 years

Text

on the subject of rocks (SUF)

Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation. Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.

***

Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.

If she wants to, that is.

He thinks he’s ready. He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem. Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.

If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.

He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours. He wants to be sure this is right. Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has. They go round and round. They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.

The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.

“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says. “You shattered Jasper. You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”

“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame. It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point. But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always. That it should.

And yet --

He and Dr. Boverman strategize. Roleplay. Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute. Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing. The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months. But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.

***

Little Homeworld is always different and always the same. It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on. His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow. But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.

If there will ever be a right time. And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.

He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be. A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side. His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.

“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.

She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken. So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then. A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him. Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.

Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face. “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days. I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”

“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly. He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies. “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”

“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil. She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.

He edges closer. “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“Sounds like you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles slightly. “All right, fair.”

“Thinking about what?” she asks.

“About you,” says Steven honestly. “And me. What I did to you. What we did to each other.” He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it. It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.” Breath. Another. “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder. “Go on. Sit down, already.”

No ‘my Diamond.�� He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be. He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her. He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk. It’s more comfortable than it looks. A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.

Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Why’d you really come here?”

“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing. “You told me once that I was the one who needed help. I’ve been getting it.”

“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice. She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration. At last she says, “So have I.”

He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open. He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right. “You have?”

“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook. At this angle he can see what she’s drawn. It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.

“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven. He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch. “Who taught you?”

“Ruby,” she says. She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook. “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”

“Right.” Part of him is saddened to hear it. Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like. “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool. I’m glad for you.”

A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile. Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees. She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly.

“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all. It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman. “I visit with my family every couple of weeks. I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately. All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy. It’s… good. It’s really good. Connie and I meet up every week. And I talk to my therapist.”

“What’s that?”

“A therapist? Um… it’s like a healer for human minds. But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers. It takes time. A long time.” He gives her a small smile. “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”

Jasper considers his words. She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot. He tenses, waiting.

Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it. It ambles away peacefully.

“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.

“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches. “I -- I’m a Diamond. But mostly I’m just Steven.”

“I hated you for so long.”

He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her. This doesn’t sound… angry. He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.

Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh. “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again. My purpose. Someone to protect, someone to serve.”

She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky. He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps. “I’m trying to -- arrgh. I thought this would be easier.”

“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.

“You know. Talking. Ugh. It’s nothing like a good fight. The target keeps changing.” She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees. The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.

“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently. “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”

“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke. He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head. “Look. Steven. I -- I’m sorry.” The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.

“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps. “But I’m the one who shattered you.” It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him. He hopes not. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You have. Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging. “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me. And you did. And I lost.”

“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”

“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper. “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”

“Sick,” he says softly. Such a small word. It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.

“Sick,” she repeats. “And I --” She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands. “I made you worse. So that I could get something I wanted. I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”

“Jasper --” he gasps. “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point. He can do this. He can do this. It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.

He closes his eyes. Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides. Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become. He doesn’t know what to say. “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally. “I -- you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

He shakes his head at that. “But I’m still the one who did it. I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.

Jasper gives him an appraising look. “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain. It’s hard to tell with Jasper. She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”

“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits. “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”

“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind. She chuckles, very slightly. “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”

He laughs. “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”

“Am not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Don’t be so surprised then.” She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch. Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.

“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”

“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly. “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.” She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights. “It’s still puny. But it has a purpose of its own.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.

“Only if you tell me what yours is.”

Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him. Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.

He just smiles. Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city. Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea. It smells like home.

“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply. “To be myself. To grow and change. To love myself, regrets and all.”

“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly. “Sort of like mine these days.” She turns to him, frowning. “You got something to write on?”

“Uh, let me see.” He rummages in his bag. “Oh hey! I have my sketchbook, too.”

“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart. He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand. He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm. No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water. He blinks back tears.

The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory. His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges. He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.

“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook. “You added the trees.”

“It just felt more complete that way,” he says. He glances at her drawing. The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens. “You can see all of this? It’s incredible, Jasper.”

“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly. “It’s a good challenge.”

“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.

“Something like that.” The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.

“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Of course. I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.

#steven universe future #steven universe #suf #jasper #steven universe jasper #do not tag as ship!#the future #suf spoilers #steven universe spoilers #steven universe future spoiler #fanfoolishness' steven universe fic #fanfoolishness steven universe fic #fragments

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skytreadermemes · 3 years

Text

LEVERAGE : REDEMPTION - THE TOWER JOB. sentence starters

YOU

❝ You’ll move past it . ❞

❝ Nice place you have here . ❞

❝ Your taste is very discerning . ❞

❝ You can run but you can’t hide . ❞

❝ You stay . But no more surprises . ❞

❝ You guys act like there’s rules to this but then nobody ever explains what they are . ❞

❝ You are a little high strung right now, so please calm down, clean yourself up, and stay out of sight . ❞

❝ Oh man , you are killing it ! ❞

❝ There you are ! ❞

❝ Your jaw is tense , your hand is shaking . You’re ashamed . ❞

❝ You’re not that person anymore . And that speaks volumes . ❞

❝ You don’t have to do this ! ❞

❝ Ohhh, hard dibs ! ❞

❝ I won’t mess it up . ❞

❝ My frickin’ arm’s tired . ❞

❝ Maybe I am a little bit nervous . ❞

❝ Okay , but I do ALL the talking . ❞

❝ Yeah , I had to level up my game . ❞

❝ Come on , I can do this , I’m ready ! ❞

❝ I decided not to care . I didn’t care who I hurt . ❞

❝ I saw a chance to make just a little bit of it right . ❞

❝ If there’s one thing I know , it’s how to schmooze dirtbags . ❞

❝ Ugh I hate business clothes , they make me feel so starchy . ❞

❝ What the hell ? I stood over there for three hours for this ?? ❞

❝ You know , I used to go to these parties and just become this person that I hate . ❞

❝ I know , I screwed up . ❞

❝ Sorry about that , just a little uh ... a little unsteady there . ❞

❝ I’m the one that almost died and I’m the one who almost went to prison ! ❞

❝ Yeah I got a little bit out of my lane right there . ❞

❝ I’m gonna go after him . ❞

❝ I feel like I should say something to them . ❞

❝ I don’t want money or revenge . I just don’t want this to happen again . ❞

❝ I reserve the right to push them off the roof if they screw up again . ❞

YOU AND ME

❝ We lost . ❞

❝ I’m not going to let us fail . ❞

❝ Wow , this really is our day . ❞

❝ You and me : the perfect team . ❞

❝ We’re gonna need more money . ❞

❝ We control them until it’s too late . ❞

❝ We’re not heroes . We’re just necessary . ❞

❝ And that’s exactly what we got : nothing . ❞

❝ For what it’s worth , we’ve all got regrets . ❞

❝ We’re gonna mess this guy up pretty hard . ❞

❝ You know I am certain that we have friends in common . ❞

❝ Yeah that last name thing ? That’s kinda spooky, let’s not do that anymore . ❞

❝ We’re prepped . We just have to ... execute . ❞

❝ Our plan is working . ❞

❝ Uh , we’re running out of time . ❞

❝ I think I owe you an apology . ❞

❝ We don’t keep things from each other . ❞

❝ Please , I want to help . But you gotta come clean . ❞

❝ Our plan is working . ❞

❝ Your screw-ups make me look good . ❞

❝ You always say you’re gonna fix things , and I tell you no , but you don’t listen to me ! ❞

❝ It would be an honor to show you around ! ❞

❝ I don’t care , just get it done . Time is money . ❞

❝ You’ve been invited to a party . We never say no to parties . ❞

❝ I did my job and I did it well . And I guess I just didn’t want you to look at me and ... know that . ❞

❝ You can’t keep stuff like this from me . ❞

QUESTIONS

❝ Little jumpy, huh ? ❞

❝ Wait . Who are you ? ❞

❝ Something you forgot to mention ? ❞

❝ Great . What if they find something wrong ? ❞

❝ Are we the ... bad guys here ? ❞

❝ Why do bad things always happen to me ? ❞

❝ A party ? Why’d they invite you ? ❞

❝ Are you sure you can handle this ? ❞

❝ How did you learn to live with what you’ve done ? ❞

❝ And why are we going through the service entrance ? ❞

❝ So, shall we discuss the terms of this partnership ? ❞

❝ Is uh ... is something wrong ? ❞

❝ You really didn’t feel that ? The whole floor shook ! ❞

❝ Maybe just a little too much champagne ? ❞

❝ What happened to you ? What are you, drunk ? ❞

MISC.

❝ It’s not part of the plan . ❞

❝ It’ll take five minutes, in and out . ❞

❝ If it was easy , it wouldn’t be fun . ❞

❝ The timing here has to be perfect . ❞

❝ This thing could withstand the apocalypse . ❞

❝ Really ? Bit behind the times . ❞

❝ This thing is way more expensive than I thought . ❞

❝ It’s a little noisy , but it really feels like you’re in the city . ❞

❝ This painting really makes me consider the juxtaposition between chaos and order . ❞

❝ The ( man / woman / person )’s trying to make amends , that means something to me . ❞

❝ I like to think it captures the essence of American masculinity , challenged by the modern paradigm . ❞

❝ Old money family , posh education , did a year at the Royal College of Art in London so they think they have taste . ❞

❝ That’s a targeted subsonic projector . It interferes with the fluid in your inner ear and the vibrations give you vertigo . ❞

❝ I still think chopsticks would work though . ❞

❝ And ... it’s a bust . ❞

❝ Just chill out . This place is safe . ❞

❝ That is most definitely a brag . ❞

❝ The people who are dead ... are dead . They don’t matter . ❞

❝ This guy’s more selfish than I anticipated . ❞

❝ Hit him again ! ❞

❝ This is so much better in person ! ❞

❝ It’s not perfect , but it is a win . ❞

❝ That sentence hurts my brain . ❞

❝ Loud noises bring back some pretty gnarly memories . ❞

❝ Little by little you get a piece of your soul back . ❞

❝ It’s a work in progress , I know . ❞

❝ There’s nothing to find . I made sure of it . ❞

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

Do You Believe Me Now?

The original post & Reblogs. Since I added more to the original post including smut and it’s at 4k words, I cleaned it up and posted the story to AO3. @bmarvels enjoy lol.

Hakyona, modern AU setting. NSFW

“Psst, Yona?”

I sit up, shielding my eyes to the sunlight. “What is it Lili?”

“You’re missing out on all the hot studs walking around, that’s what!”

“Lili, I told you I came to the beach to relax before finals, not gawk.”

I lie back down on my towel and close my eyes again. It didn’t matter to me what kind of eye candy I was missing out on. Books, studying are all I have time to focus on and besides, there already was one person who’d stolen my heart. Too bad he didn’t seem to notice it. Or at least I wasn’t sure. It was so damn hard to tell with him! He was such a sarcastic ass that I couldn’t tell if he was flirting or just being a punk to me. A groan fires off in my head, and yet through all that, I still fell in love.

But I couldn’t help it! I swear! We’ve known each other since we were kids and once I’d realized I cared more for him then as a friend, I fear that’s all he sees me as. Like a little sister. He is two years older than me after all, and both his guardian and my parents told him to always protect me. Pfft. A frown shadows my expression. Well I’m not that little girl anymore!

“Yona get up, get up, get up!”

“Lili, for the last time...”

“Isn’t that Hak over there?”

Quickly, I sit up and look over to where she’s pointing. My heart skips or more like takes a dive. Heaven help me that is Hak! He stood out in the throng of beach goers not just in height but presence.

“I think he’s gotten even cuter,” she snickers. “Damn, all his friends are hot too! Why didn’t you tell me he’s got such cute friends?!”

“I-I never noticed.”

“Are you blind? Oh, wait, I get it.” She pokes my side, “just blind to him, right?”

“Ugh!” I cover my face as I feel it heating up. “Lili stop trying to embarrass me, please?!”

“Oh look, he’s heading this way. Hey Hak?!”

I grab her waving hands. “Lili!!”

“Oh hey,” Hak waves back.

I see him grin and his group starts walking in our direction. Can I die, like right now? It was hard enough seeing him normally, but since he’s at the beach, his attire consists of board shorts and no shirt. I don’t know how he keeps his body in such condition, but I swear it’s like it was sculpted by a master artist.

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he chats with the other males, laughing, and smiling. His blue eyes twinkling against the sunlight. I squeeze my thighs together at the sight. All the girls they pass by ogle him, and I don’t blame them. The man was just too handsome for his own good. Before he reaches us, the group shake hands or fist bumps and the rest take off towards the snack stand.

“Hey Lili, Yona,” he grins, “didn’t know you two would be here today.”

“Well, neither did we, unless Yona was hiding that information from me.”

“I was not! I just came to relax.”

“So, relax,” he teases. “What’s stopping you?”

A six-foot hottie, I mumble in my head. “Shouldn’t you go hang out with your friends?”

“Nah.” He stands his surfboard up and sits down right beside me. “We’re finished surfing and was about to leave, but I’d rather hang out with a pretty girl.”

I feel the blush blooming on my face, but I try not to react. Not exactly easy with Lili grinning like a crazy person egging me on. I narrow my eyes at her. If they could shoot daggers, they would.

“You should stop teasing me like that,” I cross my arms, “it’s not funny.”

“But I’m not teasing you, I’m serious.”

Right... “Hak, you always say stuff like that, but I know you just see me as a friend. It’s getting old.”

“Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to believe it.” He forces my face to look at him. “What am I supposed to do make you believe me?”

My throat seizes up into a sputter. “I-I don’t know!”

He rolls his eyes. “Lili what do you think I should do to prove it?”

“I think you should just kiss her,” the girl smirks.

“Now that’s a good idea!”

“Don’t you dare Hak!”

“Oh, but I dare.”

He grabs me before I can scramble away. I squeal, but he quickly cuts off my defenses and plants his lips against mine. My eyes widen. Oh my god he did it! He actually kissed me?!

In a blink it was over and as my brain comes back into focus, all I see is a cocky grin and a softened smile. “Do you believe me now?”

Oof! I cross my arms and turn my head away in a huff. “No, I don’t. You’re just putting on a show for Lili and once we leave, it’ll go right back to you treating me like a little sister again, picking on me and teasing me.”

He gasps, feigning indignation, then turns to Lili. “Will you excuse us? I think I need to make this stick.”

“Wait? What?!”

“No, not at all,” the girl snickers. She quickly shoves my belongings into my bag and into my lap. “Here’s your things Yona.”

“Come on,” he drags me to my feet, “my red-haired little princess. We need some privacy.”

“Whoa, Wait!” I tug at his hold. Damn it he’s too strong for me. “Where are you taking me?!”

Hak holds his surfboard under one arm and keeps his other hand gripped to mine. “You don’t believe me, so I need to prove it, right? Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder cause you know I will.”

“Ugh! Hak you’re so cruel to me!” I whine but give in to avoid any more embarrassment. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“My place so I can shower and,” he grins down in a side-eye, “so we can have a private conversation.”

I gulp hard. Alone with Hak?!

The entire ride in his car, I sit there in the passenger seat running scenarios in my head. How was he going to prove anything to me? I’ve got years of dealing with his sarcasm under my belt, so it’ll take some effort to convince me I’m not just a friend. Though friends don’t normally go around kissing each other unless there’s more to it... Oh please, I scoff in my head. This is Hak, and to prove a point he just might. I’ve convinced myself of that notion.

“Tell me Yona, have you ever seen me with a girlfriend? Don’t answer, just think about it.”

“Because...”

He covers my mouth. “Just think about it until we get to my place.”

When he releases me, I stare out the window fuming. I know that answer! It’s because he’s always just focused on his martial arts and sports. When does he have time for one? I mean there’s nothing wrong with that, but don’t use it as an excuse to trick me. Ugh! And if he really wanted a girlfriend, nothing was stopping him from making a move.

He leaves the surfboard in the foyer and prompts me into the studio apartment. “Are you thirsty? There’s drinks in the fridge, help yourself.” I shake my head no. “Then come on, let’s take a shower.”

My jaw drops and cheeks flush the color of my hair. “S-Shower? With you?!”

“Why not? Gramps used to bathe us together when we were younger.”

“We’re not little kids anymore Hak,” I sputter out, “it’s inappropriate for us to do that now.”

He walks up and kisses the back of my hand. “Not, if I’m trying to seduce you.”

I roll my eyes. “You can drop the rouse now that we’re alone.”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Yona, it’s not a rouse. I’ve always loved you. That’s why I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He turns to his bathroom with his head hung down. “You know what? I give up. Stay till I get out and I’ll take you home or you’re free to leave. It’s up to you.” He pauses his walk. “And for the record, I wouldn’t take advantage of you. I just wanted to see your reaction... guess I got it, huh?”

I watch the door close behind him and drop onto the edge of his bed. My mind is spinning, confused, this was the first time I truly felt like... I believed every word he said. The water turns on in the room, and the sounds of the shower curtain closing was like a nail being hammered into my coffin. Oh god, what have I done? No, no, no! I shake my cradled head. I hadn’t meant to push him away! But that’s exactly what I’ve done. The poor guy looked completely dejected now and here I am sitting on his bed alone.

The tears gather in my eyes and I no longer hold them back from falling free. This man really loves me? “Oh, Hak...” I’m such a fool. I curl up on his bed uncaring of being found this way as the tears stain the bedding. He deserves someone who trusts him, not questions what he does. I should know this man better by now. Hak would never do anything to truly hurt me, and yet here I just broke his heart.

Maybe I should just leave and take my shame with me. But I can’t bring myself to move nor get off his bed. So, I curl in tighter, clinging to the blanket, and covering my head with my arm. I want nothing more than to be with him...

The bathroom door opening doesn’t stir me. I don’t want to show my face. I want to hide, yet I’m too scared to lose him.

“Yona? Yona, why are you crying?!”

The concern in his voice make me sob harder. I feel the bed shift as he’s no doubt taken a place beside me. It makes me feel even worse to know I’d hurt him and yet he still cares too much to see me in pain. I don’t fight back as he gathers me into his lap. His warm body felt wonderful against my barely clothed skin, and his arms, so strong... I always feel safe within their confines.

“Please don’t cry Yona, you know I can’t take it when you cry.” He strokes along my back, soothing and gentle, with his voice soft near my ear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, princess you know that’s the last thing I ever wanna do.”

“I‘m sorry,” I whimper through the tears. “But you really do love me, don’t you? Why’d I never realize this? I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have teased you and just told you long ago,” he tips my chin up and softens his gaze, “how much you really mean to me.”

I reach up and cradle his cheek as he gently wipes away my drying tears. We gaze into each other’s eyes while time passes unnoticed. I have no idea for how long, but all I can think is how beautiful his eyes are... windows to the soul, and his is bared naked for me to see. I pull his head down and place a second kiss upon his lips. “And Hak, I’ve always loved you too. How could I not, even when you drive me crazy... in the end you’re the only one that’s ever made me feel happy.”

“It’s my body, right? You just love me because of my body.”

I smack his chest hard, “do you always have to ruin the moment and make a joke!”

As I move to hit him a second time, he grabs my wrist, laughing at my weak attempt. “I’m sorry, it’s just too easy to tease you. I’ll stop for now.” He kisses my fingers before releasing them. “I should get dressed.”

It was in that moment that I realize Hak only had a towel on leaving very little between us. My eyes widen, “o-oh!” One wrong move and the fabric would easily unravel.

“Are you gonna get off my lap?”

I take a deep breath, ready to make a move of my own. My eyes blink slowly, rising to meet his in a coy but stern flutter. “No.”

He chuckles, “no? Come on princess, let me get dressed.”

“Maybe... I’d rather you be undressed.”

Hak’s eyes shrink to pinpoints, with his mouth slightly agape in shock that I would say such a bravely seductive suggestion. I giggle, oh how quickly this bad boy crumbles. My hands weave around his neck, fingers ghosting along the skin.

This man has haunted my dreams and my loins for far too long, and now that I know he loves me, I’m not going to waste the opportunity. I shift my position to straddle his thighs comfortably, and lift my body pulling him to me, kissing, caressing, showing him, this was no fairy tale.

“Yona, wh-what are you doing?!”

“Showing you, I believe. Now shh...” placing a finger on his lips, “no talk, just drive.” I move his frozen hands from my waist to my ass where it’s bare warmth seems to revive them, for they squeeze gently and provide support. “Mmm,” I murmur against his lips; this was better than any dream.

“You’ll be the death of me my princess,” his lips press forward against mine. “But one I’ll gladly face.”

“Don’t worry Hak, we’ll slay the dragon together.”

He growls low, “careful. Do you have any idea how much I’ve pent up over the years?”

I narrow my gaze, “yes, I do.” Then unroll the portion of towel keeping it from unraveling in retort. “Now stop treating me like a kid.”

His blue eyes flashing wild are the last thing I register before finding myself flipped onto my back. I gasp, pinned below him, so small compared to his larger frame. He reaches behind my back and pulls the strings securing my bikini top free. I move to cover my chest on instinct, blushing fiercely from his lustful gaze.

“Now coy?” He teases lightly. So, I drop my hands slowly to the sides, baring myself to him. But I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes just yet. “You know we can stop at any time, right? I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I know... this is just new and a little scary.”

“Then allow me to make those fears melt away princess.”

I nod my head, “yes, please don’t stop Hak. I do want this too.”

My top is tossed to the side as he lowers himself further, kissing at the nape of my neck. His lips burn trails along my skin in a ring of fire, suckling, in pressured kisses. I want to tell him no hickeys please, but the words die away in my throat when I feel his hands begin to massage my breasts.

The temperature of the room rises along with my moans muffled to the roar in my eardrums. I hear little, but the rest of my senses are on overdrive. Every touch like electrical charges and the smell of sex quickly enveloping my nose. I can still taste a bit of sea salt from his lips.

“I still can’t believe it’s not a dream,” he mumbles against the swell of my breasts. Me neither, I purr back.

I gasp loudly and my body reacts when his mouth covets a nipple, arching and pressing into his oral kisses. He sucks and pulses against the sensitive button, teasing with both tongue and teeth in a twin assault, playing with one breast then switching to the other. His hands mold and caress, guiding my body where he wants it to go, while mine react based on his movements. They run through his hair or trail his back and neck. My fingers squeezing, nails digging into his flesh when he hits a sensitive area.

As he moves lower down my stomach, my breathing hitches. He’d left my breasts swollen and tender and now there’s a sinister glint in his eyes. He watches me watching him as he places the softest kisses in a trail.

Down he goes, yanking my bottoms off as his body slides off the end of bed. I squeak loudly as he yanks me to the edge of the bed but before I can grasp what he’s doing my legs are over his shoulders and his mouth clamps down on my sex. A gasping moan cuts through the air and my body freaks out with a jolt. “Hak!”

His hands grip my pelvis, keeping them in his clutches. I see the wide grin on his face as his tongue sweeps slow and steady from bottom to top parting my folds. When it comes center with my clit, he sucks hard and I see stars. My hands flail, grabbing and holding tight to the bedding around me. I bite my lip to stifle my moans but it’s a fruitless effort when he’s eating me out like a lollipop.

How is he so good at this?! Every pass of his tongue, swirling, sucking on my bud sends delicious shivers rolling through my body. I can’t think, I can’t see, my mind is consumed by his ministrations like a puppet on a string.

“Look at me Yona.” His deep voice commands and I do as if under a spell to follow his beck and call. My eyes gaze back, moist and glistened, half-lidded in the throes of lust. “Time for the next level,” he smirks.

Next level? What d... “Ha—kaaaa!” I cry out as his finger slips into my entrance. My thighs clench against his head, squeezing it like a cantaloupe. But he doesn’t stop there, sliding it in and out a couple times, then adding a second. His hand moves and holds me down by my stomach as my body begins to writhe.

His tongue continues to suck on my clit, but his fingers add to the heat roiling in my core like a rubber band being stretched to its breaking point. I’ve given myself little orgasms before but nothing like the explosion evident on the horizon. I can feel the friction they’re creating against my entrance. How the palm of his hand bumps when he pushes them as deep as they’ll reach.

His fingers scissor and curl in a come-hither motion pressing along the inside walls. I jolt and squeak when they hit upon a spot. I hear him chuckle. What the hell is he—oh, oh!!! “Hak—u!” The fiery friction his fingers create coupled with the sucking on my clit are too much, snapping the final coil. His garbled name sputters out in waves like the orgasm rocking my body, but he holds me down easily, relentlessly to make sure my orgasm has me seeing white.

It feels so good it hurts! “S-St-Stop—“ I push on his head as tears of joy cloud my vision. The area was on fire, sensitive to even the slightest touch.

Hak sits up on his knees licking off the clear juices coating his fingers with the biggest grin of accomplishment I’ve ever seen him sporting. “You’re so beautiful all flushed and out of breath.” His smile makes be blush again.

He crawls back on, helping me to scoot over to the center of the bed. I swallow hard when I see the size of his erection. Being a tiny girl with a big guy... you do the math. ‘Don’t freak yourself out now Yona,’ I calm my racing mind. Already my imagination is running wild at how it will finally feel to go all the way with Hak.

Seeing a worried tremble in my lip, Hak cradles me close against his body. He tips my chin, running his thumb against my cheek. “It’s up to you Yona if you want to continue. It was my pleasure simply satisfying you.”

“I’ve wanted this w-with you, to have you be the first Hak. I-I wanna make you feel good too. Please, let me?”

“Okay, whatever makes you happy.” He sits up with his legs bent at the knee and rotated to the sides. Then he pat his thighs. “I’ve heard this position is easier for the first time,” he explains, “you get to control things, especially in the beginning and stuff.”

I nod my head nervously. Hak doesn’t need to elaborate for I understand exactly what he’s talking about. Girls talk, and sometimes there’s pain if it’s too fast or rough. The fact Hak cared enough to know that relaxes me a little and makes me feel relieved.

He rolls on the condom I grab from his nightstand. “Just go-slow princess. There’s no need to rush. And you tell me if there’s something you want me to do.”

“Okay,” releases out in a long exhale. I position myself, saddling his lap and raised, poised over him. He holds his dick steady for me as I lower myself. A shiver ripples through my frame when it barely makes contact; my sex still swollen and tender to touch.

I nibble my lip and close my eyes, pushing myself onto him, gasping when the head pushes through. The instant heat also takes me by surprise. Guess all that blood flow served a second purpose. But it wasn’t just me who’d gasped. I look up and see Hak’s head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. Even his fingers are curled against my hips. I press on, slowly sinking lower until it’s all the way inside. This wasn’t so bad after all. No, it felt freaking amazing! I bring his face back to focus and kiss his lips. “Are you okay Hak? You look shocked.”

He groans and presses deeper into the kiss. “If I’d known sex felt this good, I would’ve seduced you sooner.”

“This is your first time?!”

“Of course, it is!”

“But you seemed so skilled...” I blush, “you know earlier, I just assumed.”

“Jaeha’s been schooling me,” he blushes too. “I wanted to be ready if this ever happened. But don’t tell him I told you that!”

I giggle, “my lips are sealed, but...” I look down shyly, “I don’t know what to do next.”

“Oh!” He chuckles and starts directing my hips with his hands, “rock from you waist, use your thighs to help you. Just go by how it feels, and I’ll help you too.”

So that’s what I do. “Like this?” My hips start rocking forward and back. His hands drop down and cradle my ass and I feel them squeezing as he groans yes’s and his eyes roll back. It feels so good I join his moans. Wow it’s hard to focus at the same time!

His forehead falls onto my shoulder and his breathing grows haggard as I press longer, harder into my strides. I almost giggle out loud when my brain equates this to riding a stallion. Yup a stallion named Hak.

My breathing shortens as I pace myself. The heat building up in my core is aching again. This grind is causing a delectable friction that if I don’t slow down, I’ll lose myself too quickly.

“Fuck, Yona you feel so good,” he moans and kisses at the nape of my neck. “It’s settled, I’m marrying you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

I pull his face back up, “I accept,” kissing him on the lips. But as I hold the kiss, I lift my frame, sliding up his shaft and stopping when I feel the head pressured at the entrance. A muffled groan is trapped in his throat, redoubled when I slide down again. Oh, I like how this feels!

Over and over I do it, allowing the length to rub against the pressured walls, before pushing back down again. “Fuck,” he moans. “Yona, don’t stop, don’t... stop...”

As amazing as it feels my legs are growing tired. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, “ I can’t keep this up Hak.”

He lifts me up and rolls us over until I’m on my back and he’s nestled between my thighs. Then he maneuvers my legs over his hips, and I comply by hooking my ankles into his thighs. Hak starts pumping; I gasp and arch my back pressing my chest to his. Wow it’s deeper!

His head is rested on the bed next to mine as he uses his elbows to keep his weight off me. But his hands are glued to my pelvis and applying a downward force on them and his hips press upward.

“Hak,” I whine. He’s gonna make me cum a second time! His thrusts outpace my ability to keep up and I give in to the heat waves of my orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans too as his breathing falters and voice grows strained.

Hak pumps his hips a few more times and I can feel a pulsing sensation inside coming from his dick that I assume is from an orgasm. Finally, after one last thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me and collapses in a panting mess.

After several minutes, he bundles me in his arms and rolls us to a side position while our breathing calms down. He kisses my forehead. “I love you so much Yona. That was more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

“Mmhmm,” I agree and nestle close to his warm chest. “I love you too Hak.”

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. I’m gonna marry you Yona.”

I lift my head and pull his lips against mine. “I believe you.”

#hakyona #akayona #Akatsuki no yona #hakyona fan fic #hakyona fanfiction #hak son #yona #son hak #hak #hakyona AU #hakyona smut #hakyona fan fiction #modern setting

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fydream · 4 years

Text

“Hey! You’re y/n, right?” A boy with warm smile says approaching you.

“Uhm. Yeah..” You reply, tucking your phone away hoping he didn’t see you tweeting about him. He glances over at the desk next to you only to see that there’s someone’s stuff on it.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice, is someone sitting here?” The boy asks.

“Oh no- sorry. It’s uhm- it's my stuff.” You reply quietly, moving your bag so he could take the seat next to yours. He seems fairly nice, and pretty cute not to say the least. Not to mention he’s also the only person who’s talked to you so far, so you decide to trust him.

Jeno seems to notice you look nervous so he decides to play it cool, for now. He also makes his first mental note, shy.

“I noticed you looked lonely and probably needed help with this worksheet, huh?”

You nod watching him take out a small black pencil case. Minimalistic, you think.

“Oh! I just realized I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Jeno.” He greets while doing a small wave. “I know you’ll probably get tired of the ‘why’d you move here?’ type of questions so, what’s your favorite color?”

You smile. You for one are thankful he didn’t ask you that. You didn’t really want to go into the topic right now because the truth being the only reason why you moved back is because your mom lost her job and couldn’t afford to live in your apartment anymore. It was smart that she decided to just rent your old house because from her words “who knows what’ll happen?” It makes you happy though, to know that your mom still thought ahead, and it makes you more happy to know that your mom kept in touch with Donghyuck’s parents, after all they've done so much for you, the least your mom could do to repay them was keep in contact after you moved.

“Oh uhm, it’s more of a color combination of blue, tan, and brown? I guess? I know it sounds weird but it’s really pretty. It reminds me of the ocean and the beach.” You smile.

“No no, it’s not weird! I think it’s nice. It’s hard to find some people who like earth tones these days.” He sighs.

In reality he's more relieved that you didn’t comment on his name, so maybe there is hope after all. Maybe Donghyuck didn’t tell you what happened at all.

“Right?! Ugh, they’re really nice to paint with too!” You exclaim, eyes lighting up. It catches Jeno off guard due to him being lost in the little victory he just had.

“You paint?” He asks you.

“Only sometimes, when I get bored or have nothing better to do.” You giggle “I also keep a journal! Though I’m not good at updating it, it’s nice to keep.”

Jeno takes note of how excited you got once he brought up art, and he makes another mental note: Artistic, check.

There’s a small smile on Jeno’s face. It makes you happy to see that there’s at least one person at this school that isn’t Hyuck and his posse that would be willing to be your friend.

The two of you end up chatting the whole class period away and not finishing the worksheet your teacher had assigned to you, making it homework. It makes you sad because you wanted to finish it in class and turn it in right away to give a good first impression to your teacher, but sadly Jeno had taken all your attention.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Jeno apologizes quickly when he hears the bell ring. “Ahhh I can’t believe we didn’t get any work done, I’m so sorry for preoccupying you!”

“No no it’s okay!” You exclaim. “I mean making a new friend is better than doing some shitty review worksheet, am I right?” You joke.

“Yeah.. I guess.” He sighs, packing his stuff up. “Oh hey! Before you go can I get your number?” He asks, handing you his phone. “So y’know, we can talk more I guess.. haha..”

In that moment all Jeno can think about is you taking his phone and typing your number in. c’mon.. take it.. please work. he thinks, and it does.

The question catches you off guard at first, you didn’t think that someone would be talk to you in the first place but to also be willing to continue to talking to you out of class? Now that’s an offer you can’t deny.

“Oh yeah sure! Here’s my phone.” You say handing yours over.

Bingo, Jeno thinks as he types his phone number into your contacts. Thank god for psychology.

“So, what’s your next class?” You ask as the two of you walk out of the classroom, into the now crowded hallway.

“Ah, it’s english.” He replies.

“Oh.” You say, kind of disappointed. Jeno seems to notice the hint of disappointment in your voice and makes another note of that.

“I have... study hall.” You say, pulling up your schedule on your phone.

“Lucky you.” He pouts.

“Not really. I don’t have much work to do besides the one worksheet from earlier and I don’t really know anyone so I might just take a nap haha.”

“Still, beats working on an essay.” He sighs. “Anyways, this is my class!” He says, taking a turn into the cluster on the right of you. “Bye y/n! I’ll text you later?”

“Will do!!” You yell back at him.

You smile, maybe your senior year wouldn’t be too bad. Now if only you could find your study hall classroom..

✰ how to be a heartbreaker

↳ so what happens when park jisung, the school’s infamous fuckboy runs into the new girl at school? out of boredom he decides it’ll be fun to have someone new to play with, but little does he know, she’s learning how to be a heartbreaker.

#fuckboy!jisung #fydream #jisung smau #jisung social media au #nct dream imagines #nct dream soft hours #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream x reader #nct dream #jisung imagines #jisung fluff #jisung x reader #jisung fanfic #jisung soft hours #jisung timestamps #jisung scenarios #jisung blurbs

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wolf08 · 4 years

Text

The Art of Seduction

A/N: Surprise! I couldn’t resist taking a break from my other work to participate in SasuSaku Month 2020. I missed fic writing so much and had a blast with this. Hope you enjoy. :)

Prompt: Let’s play pretend (Sorry, I know I’m like 5 days late lol)

Summary: Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage and the mastermind behind the infamous bell test, had just the trick for igniting the inevitable romantic spark between his beloved students: assign Sakura a seduction mission. Blank period. SasuSaku. Available on fanfiction.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction using characters from the NarutoTM world, which is trademarked by Masashi Kishimoto. The story I tell here is created for entertainment only and is not part of the official NarutoTM storyline. I do not profit financially from this story.

Tags: Humour, fluff and humour, mutual pining, attempted seduction, awkwardness

Words: 3463

***

The Art of Seduction

***

“Hey – what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

One sunny afternoon, amidst Sasuke and Sakura’s private travels, while Sakura was rinsing her tired feet and Sasuke was sharpening their weapons after weeks of climbing mountains and hiking through forests, the duo was unexpectedly interrupted.

“That! Flying straight at us!” Sakura shouted and leaping clear out of the rushing brook, over the rocky shore, and onto the surrounding grass.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the disturbance.

“A bird,” he said simply without budging from his shady spot at the foot of a large oak tree.

Sakura rolled her eyes before breaking out into a grin. “Not just any bird – it’s the Hokage’s messenger hawk!”

This piqued Sasuke’s interest. It had been months since the pair had heard a peep from their home village, after all.

As it happened, the bird was carrying a scroll addressed to Sakura.

“What does Kakashi want?” Sasuke asked, while hopping to his feet and joining his companion by the brook. Sakura was crouched by the rocky shore, eagerly unravelling the scroll.

Sasuke watched her closely– taking in the emotion brimming behind her emerald eyes and her trembling fingers.

She misses home, Sasuke thought, his chest tightening. Though he didn’t blame her, Sasuke just hoped she didn’t miss home too much.

He didn’t express it much, but Sasuke thoroughly enjoyed his lively travelling companion’s company. And he really didn’t want her to leave.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the hopefulness drained from Sakura’s face as she scanned the letter. She pouted and scrunched her eyebrows together (a rather adorable expression, in Sasuke’s opinion, all things considered).

“What, Sakura?” he asked and drawing closer, crouching beside her, and hoping beyond hope this wasn’t bad news.

“It’s… a mission assignment.”

There was confusion written all over her features. Sasuke didn’t blame her.

“But you’re with me. We’re already on a mission,” he mused while reaching for the scroll to have a look himself, but, to his surprise, Sakura tugged the scroll out of his reach, colour rising in her face.

Sasuke blinked. “Sakura..?”

She twisted away from him, her face buried in the scroll and her cheeks a similar hue as her pale, pink hair. “It’s assigned just to me. And it’s a… weird one,” she said quietly, like she couldn’t believe what she was reading.

“What’s the mission?” Sasuke asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

“A seduction mission.”

***

Sakura paced back and forth through the grassy clearing in bare feet, hands clasped behind her back, and feeling stressed out of her mind. Sakura had never been assigned a seduction mission before. She had most certainly fantasized about doing one, back in her early teenage days, as most young kunoichi did. Because there had been a certain thrill in using her sex appeal as a weapon against an unsuspecting opponent. It was the perfect blindside.

But these times were different.

Nowadays, Sakura would much rather spend her time exploring the land with her beloved travelling partner than seduce strangers. And, to boot, Sakura had never been particularly confident in her ability to sway someone romantically (with her ever-so-distant object of affection compounding her self-doubts).

Sasuke’s reaction to her mission had been rather hard to read. He seemed puzzled as he read the letter over a couple of times himself. “Do you do these often?” he asked with raised eyebrows, his voice catching ever so slightly.

“No, never,” she groaned and crossing her arms.

This is going to be terrible, she thought. Failing to make a move on the love of her life even once during their months travelling alone together told her as much. Although she and Sasuke had undoubtedly grown closer and were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship – between their heated looks and gentle touches – nothing outwardly romantic had actually transpired between them.

And now Sakura was expected to leave to seduce someone else?

Some wing man you are, Kakashi-sensei.

“Then why’d he assign you?” Sasuke wondered with narrowed eyes while pocketing the scroll.

Sakura shrugged. “Well, we’re only a few miles away from the village that the… target is currently in. I bet Kakashi-sensei has been tracking our whereabouts and picked me because of proximity. Plus the target isn’t staying there much longer so I’ll need to set out first thing tomorrow.”

According to the mission assignment, the target in question was an important Wind Country delegate who (rumour had it) was involved in a human trafficking scheme. Apparently he was known as being a bit of a ladies man – thus, Sakura presumed, seduction tactics were a straight-forward means of extracting information from him.

“Hm,” Sasuke said.

“But I don’t know the first thing about seducing someone!” Sakura fumed, hands on her hips as she resumed her pacing. “Kakashi-sensei screwed up. It’s gonna be a total flop.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said before returning to the shade of the tree and resuming his task of sharpening their weapons.

Sakura watched as he ran a hand through his black, mused hair and grabbed a kunai and ran the blade along the sharpening stone with determined, aggressive motions. His expression was impassive, with his dark eyes focused on the task and his mouth frowning in concentration.

Sakura turned away, as not to be caught ogling at her handsome companion.

But that was when she was struck with an idea. An embarrassing, yet intriguing idea.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, feeling her face warm in anticipation.

He glanced at her. “What?”

She returned his gaze. “How do you do it?” Sakura asked bravely. “You know, women practically faint in your presence. How do you get their attentions so easily?”

Sakura figured he was a neutral party on the matter, and she was willing to follow any advice she could get her hands on. After all, she could personally attest to the effect her travelling companion had on women, so surely he had some advice.

Sasuke redirected his stare to something on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and joined him beneath the tree. “Oh sure you don’t,” she teased. She plopped down right in front of him. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but smirk because Sasuke looked about as uneasy as she felt, his face tinted pink and his eyebrow twitching as he tried to avoid looking at her. “C’mon. What’s your secret?”

He looked up and there was something almost pleading in his dark eyes. “Sakura, believe me. I have no clue what I’m doing,” he said. He held her gaze and Sakura’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. But she ignored it.

She pouted. Maybe he’s right – he’s just so effortlessly attractive that he doesn’t even have to try.

Sakura felt a dip in her confidence as she was reminded that the two of them weren’t in the same leagues.

But she needed to try anyways.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I need your help because I don’t know what I’m doing either and I need to complete this mission. And you’re the only person I have to consult.”

Sasuke eyed her apprehensively as she resumed her pacing.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s mind wandered. What on earth was she to wear for this mission? She only had training gear with her and she certainly didn’t have any make-up on hand. With such a tight schedule, a shopping trip was out of the question. Should she just wear her undergarments – her spandex shorts and black band around her chest?

I’ll feel uncomfortable wearing something that revealing, Sakura thought, her heartrate quickening. Did she really have to change her appearance that much, or was it more about her demeanor – how she moved and how her voice sounded, or whatever?

Ugh, I’m so confused!

Sakura gritted her teeth and stopped her pacing. Abruptly, she turned to face Sasuke square on. He was sipping from a water canteen, watching her curiously. “You’re a guy,” she pointed out. “Let’s pretend you’re my target. What would seduce you?”

Sasuke swallowed a mouthful of water with a profound gulp.

He blinked at her after that, eyebrow twitching again. He opened his mouth and closed it, faltering.

Sakura realized perhaps her question was too loaded. Let’s back it up, then. “How about – what are you attracted to in a woman? Let’s start with that.”

She watched him expectedly.

Sasuke seemed particularly fascinated by a knife he was sharpening when he said, “Um. Strength.”

“Strength,” Sakura repeated, a bit flatly. Really?

“And intelligence,” Sasuke added, his head tilted down and his eyes concealed from view behind his hair.

The knife he was sharpening really couldn’t get any sharper.

Sakura folded her arms and reflected on Sasuke’s comments. I wonder if he thinks I’m strong and smart enough to be attractive? Despite her generally low self-esteem, Sakura was fairly confident that she excelled in both of those areas, especially now.

She felt the tiniest tinge of hope. If that’s what he’s into, maybe I’ve got a shot?

But that was besides the point. She had a mission to focus on.

Did other men look for strength and intelligence in women? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it would be hard to show off those qualities to her target, unless she challenged him to an arm wrestling contest or a game of cards.

Sakura suspected there were more straight-forward ways to seduce a stranger.

She sighed. “This would be so much easier if I were talking to Naruto,” she groaned while leaning against a protruding rock between the brook and the tree. Sakura had a feeling that said Hokage-in-the-making had an arsenal of strategies for seducing men – given his experience using those very strategies in the guise of his Sexy Jutsu.

Sasuke turned to her, a trace of competitiveness in his eyes, before he seemed to remember what they were talking about and turned away.

It seemed he was willing to accept defeat from his rival on this particular matter.

“Okay, how about looks? You must have thoughts about looks, at least?” Sakura tried.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?”

She felt her heartrate quicken again, for some reason. “I mean, what do you find seductive about a woman’s appearance?” she clarified.

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

As anticipated, Sasuke looked dumbfounded by her question. But he at least seemed to be thinking about it, given his thoughtful stare into the distance with his eyebrows furrowed.

It was kind of him to play along and try to help – despite his clear discomfort. Sakura felt a stab of empathy and decided to ask what she felt was an easier question.

Thinking back to their Genin days, and Ino’s insistence that Sasuke preferred certain hairstyles on girls, Sakura asked, “For instance – should I change my hair?”

There wasn’t much she could do about its length or colour – unless she got her hands on a wig, somehow. But maybe she could style it differently, by tying it up or braiding it?

“No,” Sasuke replied curtly.

“Okay… what about make-up?”

Sasuke shook his head before getting up with the water canteen in hand. “No. You’re fine,” he said, and making his way towards the brook.

Sakura looked up, her heart fluttering slightly because maybe that meant he liked the way she looked.

Or maybe he was just trying to end the conversation.

Sasuke crouched on the rocky shore of the brook, dipping the canteen beneath its surface for a top-up.

Sakura’s eyes roamed skyward to the tuffs of clouds, her mind running astray. She didn’t mean to torment Sasuke with this awkward conversation, but she really did need all the help she could get. She imagined herself entering a darkened pub to execute her mission. She just had to pull this off, somehow, because if her enemies caught onto her, it could turn into a dangerous situation – not for her personally, for surely she could pummel her enemy if she needed to, but there could be larger international strain if she was caught spying.

Sakura closed her eyes as she imagined approaching her target at the bar. She would introduce herself, start some small talk… and then…?

“Maybe I should touch him… suggestively. But not too inappropriately, you know?” she mused.

“No, I have no clue what you mean,” Sasuke chimed in. He was now sitting on the shore with his shoes discarded and pants rolled up, his feet resting in the cool, rushing stream as he replenished their supply of drinking water.

Sakura carried on. “You know – like running my fingers along his hands, caressing his face, or something. Maybe that would work?”

Once again, Sasuke seemed very fixated on his task. “Maybe,” he said.

But Sakura wasn’t really paying attention to him. She was in her own world now, talking through a scenario she was playing out in her head.

She imagined Tsunade or Ino – two of the most sought-after woman that Sakura knew – walking into a bar and harnessing the attention of most men they passed.

What was their secret?

“I know – maybe it’s just a confidence thing,” Sakura realized. “Maybe it’s more about how I say things.”

She stood up with vigour, facing the general direction of the tree, paced forward deliberately, swaying her hips and imagining that her target was before her. She ran a hand through her hair in a way she imagined must be at least somewhat attractive, and said, “Like what if I walk right up and whisper in his ear –” (Sakura cleared her throat and tried out a low and husky tone) “- I want you. You want me. Let’s get naked. And… And…”

Sakura faltered. I can’t do it, she thought while dropping to her knees.

Then she remembered her silent audience and peered in Sasuke’s direction nervously. To her horror, he was indeed watching her, his eyes wide and his lips pursed – like he was supressing a smirk.

He thinks I’m ridiculous. Sakura put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. This is embarrassing. I’m so bad at this.”

Sasuke shook his head and stood up, capping the water canteen.

“I’m such a lost cause,” Sakura continued. “I don’t even have a nice outfit to wear.” She fiddled with the zipper at the front of her dress absent-mindedly. “But maybe if I just remove my training clothes slowly enough, it’ll distract him from the stupid things I’m saying. Then I’ll just have to hope that –”

Sakura was interrupted by Sasuke grabbing her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to force her to release the zipper.

She turned to him, startled. “Sasuke-kun?”

He looked a little conflicted – perhaps over being amused and angry – and there was a bit of colour on his face again. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a blood vessel was about to burst in his temple. “That might work,” he said. “Don’t do it.” He gave her a pointed look and stalked back towards the tree.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Sakura asked his retreating figure, feeling more confused than ever.

“You’ll do fine, Sakura,” Sasuke mumbled with a dismissive air.

Sakura folded her arms and watched him pace away, not quite sure what to make of his comment.

She sighed again and muttered, “I wish I could just kick the guy’s ass.”

***

Sakura woke abruptly to the sounds of scuffling and snapping twigs.

Wasting no time, she grabbed a kunai from her weapon pouch and sprang to her feet in one fluid motion.

Damn it, Sakura thought. She was planning to set out for the seduction mission today – and how untimely it would be to get ambushed now.

That was when she realized that Sasuke, who had fallen asleep beside her under the looming oak tree, was missing.

Sakura felt a swell of panic as her eyes darted around. And then she heard more scuffling, and this time, a male voice yelling (though muffled slightly) from somewhere through the trees ahead.

Sakura inhaled sharply and raced through the trees, knife in hand, towards the source of the disturbance. And then, moments later, Sakura arrived on a perplexing scene.

“Sasuke-kun?” she asked and slowly lowering her knife.

Her travelling companion was standing there, wearing his usual black travelling cloak, with his back facing her. Evidently, he was just fine.

It was the man bound to the tree who didn’t look fine.

Sasuke turned towards her. He seemed a little surprised by her presence. “Good morning,” he said evenly.

“Good… what the heck is going on?!” Sakura exclaimed as she approached the pair of them, studying the bound man carefully. She didn’t recognize the guy whatsoever. But Sasuke wasn’t the type of person to capture strangers for no reason, so surely he had an explanation for this. “I’ve got a mission to complete today, so this had better be important!”

Sasuke turned to her, his expression calm. “There’s no need for you to go anywhere – this is your guy,” he said simply, and gesturing towards the bound man like he was presenting a gift.

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “So… you’re telling me that you abducted the man I was supposed to seduce?” Sakura asked and massaging her temples, the puzzle pieces coming together. She felt a tinge of relief come over her because normal interrogations were much more up her alley than seduction missions.

But something still didn’t add up. “Why?” she asked.

The man bound to the tree nodded stiffly and mumbled against his mouth restraints – apparently just as keen to find out what Sasuke was planning. He had a long, straight nose, grey streaks through his black hair, and expensive-looking pyjamas.

Yep, looks like an important delegate to me, Sakura thought.

Sasuke folded his arms, closed his eyes, and turned away slightly. “I knew you were stressed about the mission so I helped,” he explained. “I figure you can just ask him your questions here and I’ll wipe his memory with my Sharingan when you’re finished.”

He didn’t seem terribly concerned that the target could hear all of his.

Sakura frowned. Sure, it was nice of Sasuke to lend a hand, but Sakura found herself feeling angry. “So you didn’t think I was capable of doing the mission so you decided to intervene,” she snapped, rounding on him.

Sasuke turned to face her fully, eyes wide. “No, you’re capable..”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “So you just didn’t want me to go on the mission.” Boldly, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I didn’t,” he finally admitted. And then, yet another surprise, Sasuke brought a hand to Sakura’s face, tracing her temple, cheek bone, and jaw with the tips of his fingers.

That’s a caress to the face if I ever saw one! she thought as a shiver raced down her spine. She was unable to look away. “Because you don’t want me seducing men,” she added with a smirk while she gazed at Sasuke’s face. Her heart was in her throat for being this close to him.

Sasuke’s fingers paused around her chin. His face was very close to hers now. “Because I don’t want you seducing other men,” he corrected quietly.

Sakura stared at him, processing the implications of his words as her face grew hot, and he leaned in closer. His nose was mere inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. Sakura’s eyes fluttered closed.

It’s happening! It’s finally happening!

“Ahem.”

Sakura startled and jumped about ten feet away from Sasuke. Enraged, she whirled in the direction of the disturbance and found that their captive, still tied to the tree, had chewed through his mouth binds and was glaring at them.

“Not that this isn’t fun, but if it’s not too late to change plans, I much prefer the one where this girl seduces me.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, her face still burning, as she smoothed out her hair.

That’s when she heard a familiar chirping sound. A sideways glance confirmed the Chidori in Sasuke’s palm. But even more menacing was the glare he was directing at their target.

“Sasuke-kun – wait! Just let me interrogate him first, okay? Then we can get back to… where we left off?”

Sasuke shot her a calculating look, eyes narrowed. He swallowed. It seemed he was quite torn between doing as Sakura asked or immediately murdering the guy tied to the tree. But in the end he caved, sitting on the ground with a humph, waiting impatiently for Sakura to finish her questioning.

Sakura hoped Kakashi wouldn’t be too disappointed that she’d failed to follow the instructions for the mission.

Then again, another part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was the outcome Kakashi planned for all along.

#ssm20 #ssm20d8 #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku month #mutual pining #wolf08fic

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