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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 15

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Missy gives her a skeptical glance as Mulder knocks on the door for an eternity in a strange pattern. She shrugs, then startles when a cacophony of loud pops and clicks erupts from the other side of the door before it swings open to reveal a short man with a receding hairline and bushy sideburns.

“Mulder, ladies, please come in!” he greets warmly, stepping to the side.

Mulder touches his hand to Scully’s lower back, ushering her inside and waiting as Missy follows before he enters last. The short man holds out his hand to Missy and when she takes it, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses the tops of her fingers.

“Enchante, you must be Melissa,” he says suavely, and Missy gives her sister an amused smile. “Melvin Frohike, pleased to meet you,” he finishes, and Missy giggles.

“And you must be the enigmatic Dana Scully,” he says, turning to Scully and offering his hand.

She takes it, but tugs hers away at the first indication that he intends to do more than shake it. Frohike turns to Mulder with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk.

“She’s hot,” he says matter-of-factly, and Scully looks at Mulder with big eyes, unsure whether he’ll find his friend’s flattery offensive.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Put a damper on the Don Juan act would ya, Frohike? You’re going to scare them away.”

Frohike presses his hand to his chest in mock sincerity. “I aim only to properly welcome these beautiful women to our home, Mulder,” he defends, then holds up his hands in surrender. “Back to the kitchen I go,” he finishes, leaving the room.

A slender man with long blonde hair and glasses passes through, pausing when he realizes they have company.

“Mulder, hey man. I forgot you were coming by.”

He looks at Missy and Scully but doesn’t say anything.

“Langly, this is Dana, and her sister Melissa,” Mulder offers, and Langly waves, looking back and forth between them.

“So which one’s yours?” he asks, and Mulder mutters something under his breath.

“That would be me,” Scully answers, holding her hand up at her side. For the first time that she can recall, being referred to as belonging to a man doesn’t bother her.

“Cool,” he says, then turns away and sits down behind a computer.

Scully and Missy both look at Mulder expectantly, asking hundreds of questions with their eyes that they are too polite to speak aloud.

“I know, I know,” he says regretfully. “I told you, they grow on you.”

“Mulder, hello,” calls a new voice, and Scully turns to see a tall man in a suit with neatly coiffed brown hair and a matching goatee.

“Hello, ladies, I’m John Fitzgerald Byers,” he says, holding out his hand shaking each of theirs in turn. “I apologize for my friends’ behavior, they don’t get out much. Please, come in, make yourselves at home.”

As Byers leads them to the living room, Scully takes stock of what Mulder had referred to as their “lair.” There’s one large room that is sectioned off into a living area and a tech lab, the latter hosting several computers as well as hundreds of computer parts and boxes upon boxes with wires sticking out of them. There’s a kitchen just off the living room, and beyond that a long hallway that must lead to bedrooms. They sit down on a well-worn orange couch, Scully in the middle, while Byers takes an armchair next to the end of the couch where Missy is seated.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Byers asks, his eyes lingering on Missy for a beat.

“It’s margarita night!” Frohike calls from the kitchen, and Byers smiles meekly.

“We also have beer, or wine, if you don’t care for margaritas,” he offers demurely.

“I love margaritas,” Missy answers with a shrug, “so does Dana, right Sis?” she continues, giving Scully a little jab with her elbow, and Scully smiles and nods.

“Sure, margaritas sound great,” she says, and Byers looks visibly relieved.

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he says, standing with a slight bow.

After he has disappeared into the kitchen, Missy looks over at Scully and widens her eyes momentarily, then juts out her chin.

“Really?” Scully says with some measure of surprise, and Missy nods enthusiastically.

Mulder chuckles, and Scully looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” she asks accusingly.

“You two have some kind of secret language. You sure you aren’t twins?”

“I remember when Dana was born,” Missy says, “it was awful. We are definitely NOT twins.”

“Missy, you were two when I was born, there’s no way you remember that,” Scully says doubtfully, and Missy rolls her eyes.

“Believe what you will, Sis, but I distinctly recall you crying for hours and Bill Jr. peeing his pants in protest,” she says confidently.

“That does sound like Bill,” Scully concedes, and they both laugh.

“Why do I get the impression that Bill isn’t the favorite sibling?” Mulder asks, and Scully rests her hand on his knee.

“Just be glad he doesn’t live close enough to attend Sunday brunch tomorrow,” she says with a squeeze, “if you’re lucky, you won’t have to meet him for years.”

Mulder smirks at her with soft, affectionate eyes. “Years, huh?” he asks, and Scully smiles as heat rises to her cheeks, realizing what she’d implied.

“Here we are,” Byers says as he re-enters the room carrying a tray with four glasses on it. He sets the tray on the coffee table and passes a glass to each of the sisters and then to Mulder before he takes one himself and sits down.

“What should we drink to?” Missy asks, holding her glass up.

“How about, to new friends,” Byers offers, giving her a small smile.

“To new friends,” Missy repeats, and they clink their glasses together.

———

“A WHAT tail?” Missy asks, her tongue thick with tequila and her eyes glassy.

“A ves- vesigible? Vestibule tail?” Mulder attempts, closing one eye in concentration.

“Vestigial tail,” Scully corrects them, retaining her medical terminology even under the influence of four very strong margaritas.

“Yes, that was it,” Byers says, pointing at her triumphantly.

Frohike drank too much and retired to his bedroom an hour ago, while Langly is still stationed behind his computer, headphones on and seemingly immersed in some kind of first person shooter game. Byers has shed his suit jacket and cuffed his sleeves, his tie loosened around his neck. He long ago joined them on the orange couch where they are now stuffed like sardines, the sisters sandwiched in the middle with a man on each side.

“Caudal appendages are a normal part of fetal development,” Scully says, her head leaning against Mulder’s arm and their hands entwined in his lap. “The coccyx enlarges to contain the spinal fluid and then it shrinks as the child develops. Occasionally it doesn’t. It’s extremely rare, but it’s been known to happen.”

“But that’s not the point,” Mulder retorts, sticking his nose into her hair. “The tail was just how they made the connection, the freaky deaky part is that this guy could change his appearance to look like the women’s husbands so they’d have sex with him.”

“That’s disgusting,” Missy says with a frown, and Byers puts his hand on her upper back, rubbing comfortingly. She looks at him and smiles sweetly.

“I don’t buy that at all,” Scully says, shaking her head clumsily.

“The shapeshifting?” Mulder asks, assuming the answer.

“Well that too, but even just the idea that they didn’t know it wasn’t their husband. They would have known,” she says plainly, it being an obvious fact to her.

“He was physically identical to their husbands, there was no way to tell the difference,” Byers explains, looking at the side of Missy’s face while he talks.

“Well maybe he looked like them, but partnered sex is very routine based,” Scully continues, “if you’re with the same person for a long time, you develop somewhat of a cadence, an order of things, that there’s no way he could have replicated. So even if he was physically identical to the husbands, he would have kissed differently, touched them differently. They would have noticed the difference.”

Mulder sits back against the arm rest so he can see her face more clearly.

“So you’re telling me that if a man who looked exactly like me in every way, physically identical, tried to seduce you, you’d know it wasn’t me?”

Scully gives him an irritated look. “Yes.”

“How?” he asks incredulously.

“Because no one else kisses like you do,” she says at a lower register, hoping Missy and Byers aren’t listening.

Mulder looks past her to the other end of the couch and his eyebrows lift in surprise, his mouth curling into an amused smile. Scully turns to see what he’s smiling at and finds that Missy and Byers most definitely were not listening, because they currently have their tongues halfway down each other’s throats. Scully turns back to Mulder with an open-mouthed smile.

“Oh my god,” she gushes, leaning her forehead against his chest.

He wraps his arms around her back and gives her a squeeze.

“I was just about to say we should get outta here,” Mulder whispers against her ear, “but I’d hate to interrupt them. I think this is the most action Byers has gotten in years.”

She stifles her laugh in his T-shirt, then sits up to look at him.

“Is he a good guy?” she questions in a bit of sisterly concern.

“Oh, yes, the best,” Mulder says emphatically. “If it were either of the other two stooges down there I’d pry Missy off of him and transport her to safety, but Byers is good people.”

Scully nods in approval, sneaking another glance towards the lovebirds as Missy’s foot starts to press against her thigh; they seem to be orienting more horizontally by the second. She glances over at Langly, but he’s oblivious.

“Do you think it’s okay if we leave her here?” Mulder asks cautiously, unsure if it’s an obscene suggestion.

Scully looks at her sister again. “Missy, we’re leaving,” she says loudly, and Missy holds up her arm, flicking her wrist in a “go” motion. Scully turns back to Mulder. “She’s fine.”

Mulder lives closer to the Gunmen so they direct the cab driver there, quietly kissing in the backseat on the ten minute drive. She is pleasantly drunk, just this side of sloppy, and feeling particularly amorous after such a fun evening. Mulder stumbles through his front door ahead of her, swearing as he stubs his toe on the table. He feeds Priscilla as Scully removes her shoes and jacket, making her way to the couch. As soon as he sits down beside her, he leans over and presses his boozy lips against hers, the kiss firm and insistent and...weird.

“Mulder,” she says as he continues to plant strange kisses on her mouth, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, moving his pecking down her neck.

“You’re kissing me weird,” she says flatly, and he lifts his head to give her a shocked look.

“Motherfucker,” he says in a disappointed tone, and she shoves his shoulder.

“I told you I would know, jerk,” she says playfully, and he laughs.

“I guess you would,” he says, starting to kiss her more properly.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” she suggests, and he stands, holding his hand out to her.

She leads him into the bedroom, and as she approaches the bed he grabs her roughly from behind, clutching her to him. She gasps at the sudden contact, but it also excites her.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

She nods her head tersely, wanting to see where he’s going to take it.

He growls and sticks his hand down the front of her still-buttoned jeans, forcing his fingers under her panties until he meets with her vulva. Keeping his fingers still, he slips his other hand under her shirt, shoving it under the underwire on her bra and grasping her breast roughly. Her heart is racing but she doesn’t move.

“Unbutton your pants,” he says levelly, and the authoritative tone in his voice sends a little rush between her thighs. She does as he said, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them off her hips while his hand is still tucked against her.

With more room to move, he slips his hand down further and drags his fingers lazily over her lips. She can feel herself growing wet, her clit aching to be touched. He suddenly removes both hands, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head before she’s even had time to lift her arms, her bra soon following it to the floor. He steps forward, pushing her along with him, and then touches her upper back.

“Bend over,” he says, and she does, her torso resting on the mattress while her legs dangle over the side.

She feels him tug her jeans off her legs, and then her panties, leaving her nude. She waits, her heart pounding in her ears nearly blocking out the jangle of his belt buckle and the slide of his zipper. She feels his naked skin press against hers, his erection stiff and hot against her lower back. He leans forward to put his mouth to her ear.

“Still okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says breathily.

She hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and wriggles her hips in anticipation, nearly moaning when his hands touch her bare hips, tugging her towards him. She feels the slick press of his latex-covered cock against her entrance and bucks back towards him, earning a little chuckle. He pushes into her, each groaning with relief, and wastes no time finding a hard and fast pace, the slap of skin deafening in the quiet apartment. He changes his angle, and she feels his hand snake around her hip, his touch rough and firm and perfectly paired with the strike of his head against her cervix on each upstroke. It hurts just a little bit, but in the best kind of way, and she cries out when he finds just the right combination, begging him not to stop.

A stream of obscenities, foul and offensive remarks about how she feels and looks, what he’s doing to her, pour from his lips and she is concurrently shocked and delighted, finding herself at the crest as he asks her how much she likes it, and calls her some questionable names. She comes hard and suddenly, the obscenities stopping as he explodes inside of her, falling partially on top of her as he loses the strength to stand.

After he’s extricated himself from the bed and disposed of the condom, he pulls her on top of him and peppers her with tender little kisses and gentle strokes of his hands over her naked body, telling her how beautiful and perfect she is, bringing them back to equilibrium. She props her chin on his chest and looks up at him with a wry smile.

“What did you call me?” she asks, and he does a silly cartoonish cringe.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest. Did I say something bad?” he asks with genuine concern.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest,” she replies, “I was otherwise engaged.” She smiles at him so he knows she’s not mad. She looks over at the clock beside his bed. “We better go to sleep,” she says, her eyes already drooping. “We have to be at my mother’s at ten tomorrow.”

———

“So, what did you all do last night?” Maggie asks around the lunch table, and Dana chokes on her water while Missy clears her throat.

“I introduced Dana to some of my friends,” Mulder answers jovially, on his best ‘meet the parents’ behavior.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Maggie answers warmly. “Are you from the area, Fox?”

“It’s Mulder, Mom,” Dana corrects her, and he waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s okay, moms get a free pass,” he says, smiling at Maggie. “I grew up on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Ooooo, fancy schmancy,” Charlie remarks with raised eyebrows, and Dana glares at him.

“Do you have any siblings?” Maggie continues.

This is a line of questioning he’s had to navigate since he was twelve, but for Dana it’s a first. She tightens her grip on his hand under the table.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her before turning back to Maggie. “I had a younger sister, but she died when I was twelve.”

Scully understands that this is probably his stock answer, not wanting to get into the true story with each person he crosses paths with, and feels retroactively touched that he was honest with her from the start.

Maggie’s hand goes to her chest as though reaching for a rosary, her face a mask of pain. “Oh, Fox, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Scully, it was a long time ago.”

Sensing the need for a subject change, Charlie turns to his oldest sister. “What’s up with you, Missy? You’re looking a little rough today.”

She gives him a derisive smile. “Thanks, little brother, love you too. I just didn’t get much sleep, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Charlie says knowingly, and Missy kicks him under the table.

After the dishes have been cleared, Maggie is pulling the trash bag out of the can when Mulder interjects. “Let me take that out for you, Mrs. Scully.”

She watches him with a soft smile as he goes out the back door, then turns to look at her youngest daughter, who is also watching after him with an affectionate expression.

“Dana,” she calls, and when she has her daughter’s attention, she gives her a beaming smile. They don’t need to say more than that; Dana smiles back with a little nod, and they both understand that she’s found something worth moving on to.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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knockknockchicagopd · 3 years

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❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight imagine #hank voight x reader #hank voight

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albdodaze · 3 years

Text

blooming. y.itadori

‘she’s satoru’s sister’ (chapter two)

warnings: none

context: IN WHICH kami gojo, younger sister of certain powerful jujutsu sorcerer, meets an idiot who makes cold barrier around her heart melt.

There weren't many things that Kami hated. She probably poured all her hatred onto her parents, whom she felt incredibly sorry for. But there was another thing that Kami hated practically as much as her parents.

"She’s Satoru's sister. From Gojo Family."

Oh, how she hated being seen only as the sister of a famous jujutsu sorcerer and a member of a powerful family.

Kami wasn't powerful, in fact, she had no cursed energy, she couldn't do any cursed technique. The only thing she had in common with her family was that she could see curses, nothing more. She was often referred to as the window of the Gojo family. No one ever wanted to meet her, no one wanted to know anything about her, and when someone actually started talking to her, it was only to find out about Satoru.

Because of this, she was also the scapegoat in the family. Her parents were ashamed of her. In fact, they abhorred her. They couldn't stand the thought that their daughter was nothing compared to her family. Compared to her brother. Therefore, she was excluded from practically everything that went on in her family. Meetings, celebrations, birthdays, nothing. She was always left alone at home, under the care of the babysitter her parents had hired.

When she was younger, she thought it was just the way it was supposed to be, that it was like that in every family. After all, they never hit her, so what was wrong with that? Sometimes they yelled at her, screamed about not being good enough, but they never hit her. So nothing bad happened, right? Right?

The only thing she had in common with her family was her white hair and her rather tall height. And everything else was different. Even her eyes were black. Black. When her family had them blue, heavenly.

As she grew up, she began to understand how different she was from her family. She saw how disappointed they were in her for not being like them. So she began to practice and learn as much as she could. By the age of twelve, she already knew all about cursed weapons, she knew how to use them, how to defend herself. But her parents continued to look down on her. They continued to look at her with the same eyes. With pity and disgust.

The only person who didn't seem to look down on her was her brother. Satoru. And still, Kami hated him with all her heart.

She hated being inferior to him. She hated being compared to him. She hated being in his shadow. She hated all of him.

And yet she continued to stay with him. She stayed with him because of that stupid bond, the fear that no one else would accept her, that no one else would love her. Because no matter how angry, pissed off Kami could be at him, no matter how much she could call him names and tell him how much she hated him, he always stayed by her side and never doubted her.

After all, he was her big brother, how could he doubt in his loving little sister, for whom he would give his life, for whom he would do anything.

Satoru loved—duh—loves Kami with all his heart and considers her the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman—not girl, woman—he could ever meet. Satoru is the proudest brother, and he couldn't be prouder of how well his little sister, who holds his whole heart, is doing.

Even though she was over a decade younger than him, Kami was able to talk some sense into him more than once, show him how wrong he was about many things. Kami had taught him everything. It was for her that he tried his best. It was for her that he stayed in his family home as long as possible. It was for her that he befriended Megumi, seeing how well the two of them would get along and not being able to pass up the opportunity to find—probably—a lifelong friend for his sister.

And he found one.

Satoru was able to stay with Kami through the nights while she learned all about jujutsu sorcerers, he would bring her tea whenever she ran out of it, he would make her food when he heard her stomach clamoring for a snack. He would be the one to move her helpless body from her desk chair or the floor to her soft and comfortable bed so her back and neck wouldn't hurt the next morning.

He was the one who brought her breakfast every morning, for which he got up two hours earlier before her alarm clock. And when he was out, he would always send her a simple "have a nice day, don't forget to drink water" in the morning with some stupid meme or gif he found on the internet. It was the only thing Kami always woke up at 6:30am for, a silly and simple text message from her brother.

Let's also not forget the "good night, I love you little sister, sleep well" in the evening. Kami would never admit it, but she has screenshots of every single such message, printed out and tucked away in one of her binders, in case her phone breaks or gets lost.

In the end, Kami snapped. After all, how could she hate her brother, who would do anything to make her the happiest person in the world, who would do anything so that only his sister could have the best life, the one she deserved.

A soft knock on the door of her room snapped her out of her thoughts. She knew very well who it was. After all, he had said himself that as soon as he showed Yuuji around, he would come.

"You alive?" Her brother's familiar voice asked and Kami lifted her head from her pillow, smiling softly.

"How do you feel?"

"Like pulled straight from the grave," she muttered, and Satoru laughed, sitting down on the edge of her bed where she lay. "Itadori's been in his room since yesterday?" She asked, and her brother nodded. "Megumi?"

"He and Yuuji are already on their way to Harajuku where we're supposed to meet the fourth student," he replied, and Kami raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"I was waiting for you," he smiled softly and started to speak before Kami had a chance. "And don't tell me you're not going. The fourth student is a girl, maybe you'll get along. Besides, you need to get out of this room eventually. And I don't mean leaving the room to move to Megumi's room or mine," he said as he noticed his sister opening her mouth to start defending herself. "Come on, I'll buy you a bubble tea on the way, okay?"

Kami glared at him for a good few seconds and finally sighed, which caused a big grin to spread across Satoru's face, which Kami smiled at, too.

With the help of her brother, the white-haired girl got out of bed and put on her feet, covered in black knee-high socks, mary-jane boots—the same colour as her socks—from her school uniform.

She quickly looked at herself in the mirror again, checking if her pleated mid-thigh skirt hadn't rolled up and if her short button down jacket, covering her perfectly white turtleneck, hadn't twisted anywhere. Adjusting her hood pinned to her jacket, she walked out the door that Satoru had opened for her, having previously put her phone in her pocket.

Just as Satoru had promised, they quickly bought her favorite strawberry bubble tea on the way and immediately headed towards the street they were supposed to meet at. As soon as they saw two familiar faces in the distance, Satoru raised his hand.

"Sorry for the wait!" He shouted and headed with Kami towards the two teenagers. "Your uniform made it in time, I see," he added when he saw a perfectly fitting uniform for Yuuji.

"Yeah, it's a perfect fit. Though it's slightly different from Fushiguro's. It has a hood, for one," Yuuji said, taking the red hood his uniform had in his hand.

"That's because the uniforms can be customised upon request," Satoru replied.

"Huh? But I never put in any requests."

"I was the one who put in the custom order. With a little help of our master," Satoru smiled, pointing at his sister, who was shorter than him and too focused on her bubble tea to get anything out of the conversation.

"Whatever, I guess," Yuuji replied.

"Be careful. Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that," Megumi interjected, looking at his classmate out of the corner of her eye. "Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?"

"Because it's what she asked for," said Satoru.

"Ahh! Popcorn! I want some!"

After a few minutes, Satoru poked his sister with his elbow and, as she raised her eyes at him, he pointed to something by the entrance to the street, or rather, someone.

There stood a redheaded girl, not too tall, tiring of some middle-aged man, but Kami couldn't hear what was going on through the crowd of people making noise around her. The short-haired girl had a very similar uniform to Kami, though this one had brown moccasins, black tights and a white shirt instead of black mary-jane shoes, knee socks and turtleneck.

"This is kinda embarrassing," Yuuji spoke up with his 2018 glasses on his nose and popcorn in one hand, in the other ice cream. Kami shook her head and closed her eyes, going back to drinking her bubble tea.

"So are you," Megumi heard and she snorted softly making the drink she was drinking fly up her nose.

As Kami tried to get rid of the sticky drink from her nose, the redhead approached them and began leading them to 400 Yen Corner where she could leave her luggage.

As the other freshman girl closed the locker with her things, she turned towards the rest of them and put her hand on her hip.

"Ok, once again," Satoru began and pointed his hand at the girl.

"Kugisaki Nobara. Be happy, boys. I'm the one woman in your group," she said, as if she hadn't noticed Kami standing next to her brother at all.

"And what am I? Guide dog?" Kami said, pulling away from her already almost finished drink. Nobara looked at the girl and her eyes lit up.

"Oh, hey! I didn't notice you. We will be great friends!" she said and returned her gaze to the two boys in her year.

"I'm Itadori Yuuji. I'm from Sendai!"

"Fushiguro Megumi."

"Kami Gojo. Guide dog."

After a few seconds in which Nobara looked like she was thinking hard about something, she finally sighed.

"I always get stuck with unfortunate circumstances," she said and sighed once more.

"She took one look and sighed," muttered Itadori.

"Are we going somewhere from here?" Megumi asked, turning his gaze to Satoru, who only laughed.

"We do have all four of you together. Not to mention, two of you are from the countryside," said Satoru, lifting his head proudly and throwing his arm around his sister's shoulders. "So of course we're going on a tour of Tokyo!"

Nobara and Itadori began shouting "Tokyo!", attaching themselves to Satoru, causing Kami to have to walk over to Megumi, throwing away an empty cup on the way.

"We're definitely not going on any tour," Kami muttered, and Fushiguro-kun nodded softly, knowing Gojo-sensei all too well.

"We love Tokyo!"

"TDL! I want to go to TDL!"

"Idiot! TDL's in Chiba! Let's go to Chinatown, Sensei!"

"Chinatown's in Yokohama!"

"Yokohama's part of Tokyo! Don't you know that? Look at a map!"

Kami, Satoru and Megumi were quietly watching the argument that was going on in front of them when the elder Gojo spoke up.

"I will now announce our destination!"

Nobara and Itadori knelt before Satoru at which Kami shook her head with her eyes closed and Megumi deadpanned at them.

"Roppongi!"

"Roppongi?!" Said Itadori and Nobara at the same time, looking at each other, incredibly pleased with what they heard.

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highviewsmoved · 3 years

Text

✽ overhaul x oc (NSFW) ✽ with the promise of a cure, a young woman uses the contents of her grandfather's will to her own advantage.

CAUTION WARNINGS: stockholm syndrome, references to illness, mental instability, emotional manipulation, unresolved sexual tension, voluntary imprisonment, voyeurism, obsession, dubious morality, masturbation.

“A gentle hand upon a flower, causes it to bloom with love, you see. It takes a caress similar to that of a partner. It’s been a part of our family for generations, this ability.” He uses his hands to cup the sunken plant before him, slowly examining it as it blossoms upward to a renewed state.

The child blinks up at the older man, his eyes wrinkled with a faraway smile.

“But grandmother says I have a curse.”

The older man frowns, eyes downcast. “It may be, but to me, it is a gift.”

The child continues in a monotone that no one should possess at such an age. “All the flowers I touch, they come out of me, grandpa.”

The grandfather doesn’t know how else to respond, but goes and provides aid to the flowers dying from heat, the shade of brown passing over to a healthy green.

“It is a blessing, child,” he reaffirms. He is certain as the flowers that bloom from his hand that his granddaughter is special. “Always count them for yourself.”

Her grandmother lays bedridden. A restless thing that looks so close to the doors of death. Ume feels the tears spill from her eyes. It is a foreign thing to cry with meaning behind it, but it’s what she feels.

“Ume, my flower. Yuzuki left you something you must know. The Hassaikai, our business partner, can take you in. They can heal you.”

She sniffles, wiping her eyes. “Grandfather always told me it was a gift,” she coughs into her hand, an azealia appearing on her lap. Her grandmother coughs, but for a different reason.

“You’re ill, find them, show them this,” her hand is skeletal, like the gnarled twigs of a tree in winter. She nods, taking her hands. “I will, I’ll find them,” she promises.

Her grandmother heaves a shaky breath, passing quietly while the heart monitor keens a high sound, leaving her alone with the paper in hand.

Ume thinks of another time of when her grandparents were just with her moments before, still alive. Still there.

The hospital staff come bursting through, calling out to her and moving her away from the sight. She watches as they cover her grandmother’s face, they push her to the outside of the room.

Ume opens the letter, the will being precariously typed, the calligraphy neat and organized. Something her grandfather was always meticulous about.

It is written on this piece that she is property of the Boss from the Hassaikai. The newly appointed young lord of the organization.

When she returns home, doing a simple search through the calculated books her grandfather left behind. She sees the face of the older Shie Hassaikai and a photo of a young man she’s met and seen before.

A slow smile forms across her face.

Her finger tracing lines against the image of the younger man.

She finds them easily. Ume had to pull some strings. The company her family has owned had ties with the Hassaikai for many years. They developed pharmaceuticals together for people with quirks. They lobbied with one another.

It was all to keep themselves afloat.

And now she’s here. She feels an ebbing of excitement when she’s welcomed into their headquarters.

Ume sits across from the leader of the Shie Hassaikai. The young man was adorned with a plague mask. It’s a signature look for them. The massive paper is being read by the other henchman, a man by the name of Kurono.

“It reads here you are a part of the will that was granted by your grandfather, Yuzuki. The boss knew him for quite some time. And you’re fine with this?” Kurono is skeptical. He is clearly unsure of what sort of play is happening here.

She sits up a bit taller, attempting to seem much more presentable. She must play her part in this as best she can. “I am.”

The man, Chisaki Kai, one she has seen come across her family’s estate many times before. The one from the photo in her grandfather’s files. A young man who seemed quite lost when she saw him. Now looks much more hostile and methodical. He tilts his head curiously.

Mimic below makes a curious noise in the back of his throat. “You don’t think that’s a little off, miss?”

Ume smiles amiably, causing the men around him to shift uncomfortably. Her gaze was pinned on the leader. “I understand my duties entirely well, and I have been raised to meet them. Our families have had a partnership for decades. It’s to continue the union as we see it.”

Overhaul’s gloved hands she notices start rubbing against each other, she glances quickly at the motion but removes her gaze before he can notice. When she meets his eyes they’re locked on hers in a challenge. A heated fire in them, he surely must’ve seen.

“What do you gain from this, Miura? What's your endgame if you were to be kept by the Hassaikai? Is it a business alliance you wish to continue?”

Ume hearing his voice is all she wanted and she exhales shakily, heart giddily pounding. “I’m sick,” she says in a false, weepy tone. “I want to be cured and you have the capabilities to help me.”

Overhaul tenses considerably. Kurono passes a nervous glance towards his boss. Overhaul looks terse, Kurono can sense his hands twitching to rid this woman before him like an infection.

“What’re you ill with?”

Ume’s eyes glitter, the rumble coming from deep in her stomach, rising to unfurl out of her mouth. A flower upon the table. It was a shade of vibrant purple, shaped similar to that of a star with the center protruding yellow. Kurono makes a disgusted noise and Mimic reels back.

Overhaul feels his nostrils flaring at the flora before him. The belladonna, the nightshade resting against the wood of the coffee table. Ume in tears coughs into her mouth.

Disgusting, he thinks. A sickness waiting to flourish if he does not cut it out.

Ume is in a room of white. An area so pristine that she feels she will blacken it with her sight. She lays herself down on the bed as instructed and allows the men to enter with the needle. They say it’s supposed to be a prep, to see if this can really work to nullify the quirk enough to not be a bother for her any longer.

“We’ll remove the illness from you entirely, Miura,” the voice comes from the intercom belonging to Overhaul. She wants to laugh happily, she’s content with how simple it was to get herself here. They were so easily swayed. The tears leak from her eyes.

“Please," she begs. "I no longer wish to be this way.”

“Begin,” comes the buzz from the intercom and one of the men comes close towards her with the needle. The liquid is an odd shade and she forces herself to relax, the lower half of her body shaking.

When she can sense the press of the sharpened needle against her thigh she wants to pull away but she stares straight into the camera in the corner of the room, her eyes never leaving the tiny blinking dot. She knows he’s watching. He is alone and she is here with him.

“We’ll be recording you for updates on the serum we’ve injected. It’s still something roughly in the works, but there’s no reversal for it which you should already have known about—” The man before her continues to drone on about the nullifier and Ume frowns.

She feels disconnected, she’s been in this room for the last seventy-two hours and is beginning to feel restless, her mind drifting to someplace else. In her thoughts she sees Overhaul, with his face against her hand, her lips grazing his temples. She purses her lips and continues to nod as if she’s understanding. She hasn’t listened to a word.

The man coughs. “Well, we’ll leave you to yourself.”

Ume stands up quickly, reaching out. “Please, wait a moment,” her voice light and sweet.

The doctor of some sort seems rather nervous to be in her proximity, his body language on high alert. Ume notices this, thinking of how this room is on heightened surveillance.

She poses herself to be the perfect angel, a young woman in fear of the unknown. “I don’t want to be alone,” her gaze underneath the fluorescence like a sharpened jewel. The man’s entirely stumped, uncertain of what to do or say.

The blinking from the camera seems to analyze every inch of the interaction. She moves closer, her eyes watering with a pleading look. “I’m here alone and I don’t have anyone else, will you let them know that?”

The man swallows heavily, feeling the blood rush to his head, she has a mind-numbing effect on him. “Ah, yes,” he clears his throat rather loudly. “I’ll let the boss know, of course. Pardon me.”

He exits the room quickly, terrified Overhaul may have seen the odd display between them. Entirely unaware the young woman was smiling the moment he turned his back.

Overhaul sits up quickly, moving out of the observation room with a purpose. He feels overwhelmed by the sudden scene he witnessed. Ume was too vulnerable. No longer is the young woman with a horrific ailment, but now someone without it. It was gone and it could not harm her anymore.

She was as clean as that room she was in. She was a sight to behold and he watched her every waking moment bewitched by her. Seeing her with one of his men, alone and so close. It drove him to leave, it’s what’s making him go to her room to ensure the man did not linger or stay.

“Overhaul,” Kurono comes to his side, matching his quick strides. “What’s happening?” The boss doesn’t respond. Overhaul only waves him off dismissively.

Kurono stops, leaving through a different part of the headquarters, not wanting to bother him any longer. A part of him knowing full well where he’s going

Overhaul reaches her area of the base and stops outside the door. He could easily go in and see what’s happening. She’ll be there, in her room with her own personal belongings, and see her. He’s been watching her.

His first memory of Ume was back when she came to the old Hasaikai office, where the boss was in talks with Yuzuki. She was a dainty thing, with a twinkling gaze and an amicable aura about her. She seemed serene, something he was not during his early years. He remembers glancing at her, words not spoken between them, but her gaze held his. It never once left his, as if she could see right through him into the core of his head.

The memory dissipates immediately when he hears a gentle moan, he wavers. An odd feeling washes over him. Why is he here exactly? He is the one in charge and so he thrusts open the door, and he sees an image that will be seared into his memory.

Ume on her back, her hand in between her legs that are spread apart for him to see. He stands there, locked into place with the door closing with a puff of air and she looks up to see him, her hands hiding as she sits up, looking ashamed.

Her cheeks heated and a look of worry flashes across her. Overhaul hasn’t moved.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her eyes watering and he feels a rapid emotion overcome him.

“You—” he can’t seem to get the words out. It was like he completely lost his purpose for being there in the first place.

His mind was screaming in itself.

Ume lifts herself away from the bed, her skirt covering the legs he saw moments before. She drifts to him like a phantom.

“I’m still not well, my display must’ve concerned you,” she tells him. She is now only a few feet away. Overhaul attempts to rein in his muddled thoughts.

“Clearly,” he spits. He wants to flee, he wants to tear her apart and then rebuild her back again.

Ume was a striking beauty, the mole beneath her lips. Her eyes were a shade of pink, her hair the color of mulberries. She was such a captivating individual that he seems to understand why he feels such a magnetism towards her.

It must’ve been the number of times when she has held his gaze evenly. So at odds with what he expected her to be.

Ume snares him with a hook. “You’re just as twisted,” he feels an odd anger bubble up in him at her.

“What do you know? You’re here on account of your family selling you like a business offering.”

Ume’s eyes flash. “I am here on my own volition with what was provided.”

Overhaul doubts her, she can’t be serious.

She steps closer, her lips a beautiful shape. She reminds him of a spider creating a web. “You’re a sick man yourself. You come into the room of a woman who has no way to defend herself from someone like you.”

“You’re a witch,” he hisses. He feels an emptiness in his core with this talk. He can’t understand what this is.

Ume is unsettling, he realizes. She’s not what he thought she was. “I’m not a danger to you, Kai.” The way she says his name so tenderly, like a woman in love disturbs him more than anything.

She’s suffocating. She’s a boa constrictor wrapping herself around him ready to squeeze.

The effect she has on him is vexing. “I’ve always watched you,” she tells him like a shared secret between lovers. He shakes his head. “Just like you have been watching me.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, shutting the door. Overhaul feels his pulse rising with each step he takes. The way she looks at him, the way she has him in her hands.

Overhaul feels a genuine moment of horror.

What is she?

He returns with an ultimatum. She could finally be released, with the exception of constant surveillance on her. She could return to her old life of doing what she was before.

Overhaul does not want to push her away but his mind keeps thinking of seeing her in that specific position from that day. He wants to get rid of it. He needs her gone.

“I’m still unwell,” she tells him. She watches him warily, but something in her is telling him it's a ruse.

“You’re still sick?” He asks, his hand moving to hover across her face. Overhaul feigns his own concern for her. Ume’s eyes drift downwards. Her day-to-day was a cycle. An endless myriad of nothingness except her own thoughts to please herself with. She’s been in this room for days on end and after their last moment together, she was hoping she had finally gotten through to him. Finally, the object of her attention returned. She has him all to herself.

Ume shifts closer. Overhaul looking down at her, and he does not side step or moves away. “I’m here to get better, aren’t I?”

He tilts his head curiously to her advancing. “And you are? We’ve already given you the antidote. Don’t you want to leave here?” Ume smiles, eyes bright. She looks similar to a specific painting he’s seen in a galleria. The piece being a ghostly woman standing across the moors in a European isle.

“But you’re here. You keep me company.” He came here on a whim hoping this offer would be one that she would comply with.

Overhaul may have underestimated her, she's like a siren calling him softly from the sea, coaxing him to shore. Her words simply hold that much power.

His lips feel dry beneath his mask and he swallows. Her gown is loose, revealing her skin below and a part of him feels he could move to coast his hand across. To be able to hear her breathing hitch, close to his ears. To be able to see that display of her legs opening. He ceases the thoughts. She’s at his mercy. He has control.

“I know what you’re doing,” he murmurs, more to himself. His mind has become a frenzy. A demented voice in his brain begging him to lay his hand upon her. One touch won’t hurt, it won’t. It would be quick, a simple thing.

Ume drifts from side to side, her hand reaching above to move a piece of his hair. Her fingers dance across his forehead. He grits his teeth, his gloved hands twitching. His mind suddenly gearing up for a tirade. It’s filthy. It’s disgusting. It feels wonderful.

“Then leave here,” she whispers. “Don’t come back.”

“You’re a vixen. You’re sick,” Overhaul emphasizes. This time he means it, but he can’t help but let himself be entranced. She’s maddening. Enticing, his mind supplies.

Ume laughs, she’s infuriatingly beautiful. “And yet you come, again and again. For me.”

Overhaul retreats, her eyes twinkling with mirth. He leaves her there, walking quickly away, his steps echoing down the halls as he moves around the labyrinth. “Overhaul, where are you going?” Kurono asks in shock, he’s never seen his boss move in such a hurry.

“To my private quarters.”

He shuts the door to his room, locking it, hurriedly taking off his jacket stripping himself of the ailment. His thoughts cause images to be projected into his mind. Seeing himself close to Ume, pressing his lips close to her breasts, and his hands placed where hers was between her thighs.

He feels tight all over, collapsing onto the ground in a mess. His breathing is all over the place as he removes his mask from the heat of it all.

Ume was dangerous.

His hands moving on their own as if she was puppeteering them herself. He imagines her there with him. She could be, his mind adds. That filthy part of himself could go in there and take her. Keep her with him all the while. It’s what she would want. It’s what he wants.

Overhaul unzips his pants, his hands grabbing his cock, feeling the girth against his palm. He imagines her there, she’s so real against him. She is stunning as her mouth presses against his dick.

Fuck.

He begins moving, pumping to get to a fast release. The image of Ume licking his shaft, her fingers dancing across his body. Her touch is absolutely vile, but it causes his heart to pound.

He fondles himself more, beginning to feel his body clench around him. This is sickening, he thinks. It’s not right. Ume is still there, the image of her never left.

Overhaul could’ve taken her into his room. Having done everything his filthy mind was displaying out for him, his pleasure exceeded all logical thoughts.

The idea of her as his alone. “Come for me again and again.” He hears her voice so close to his ear, the way she said his name. Kai. Fuck.

He’s so close.

Her pussy would be pressing against his shaft, she would be so wet, so tight. Her moans would be sensual when she continues to take him how she wants. The way it would spasm against his dick. He grabs his balls roughly at the thought.

Overhaul comes with a grunt, a desperate sound freeing itself. He shivers at the sensation of his own cum warm against his body.

A harsh breath rakes through him and he stumbles his way into the bathroom. He starts the water, the steam rising above when he takes a step in. Overhaul hisses, the water scalding against his skin.

He thought with this he could exorcise the thoughts of her, but knowing that she could be doing this too. Ume’s own fingers deep inside of her, imagining himself was something he never experienced before.

A pleasure all their own.

Ume imagines what she would do if Kai would come and stay with her. If he would be willing to let her touch him, to touch her. His large, gloved hands caressing her thighs, reaching up to grab her breasts.

She begins trailing her own fingers down to her thighs, reaching the clit, the gentle motions budding into herself.

The thoughts of Overhaul down on his knees for her, what a simple touch could do. She moans, her fingers working with a quickened pace to reach her own orgasm. A fast one to rid herself of her desire. She needed to continue her control. She was the one above him. He couldn’t kill her even if he tried.

He kept her here offering whatever possible to release her, but her devotion to him and her own cause kept her to stay in this room so he could return.

Ume puts him through a hideous pattern and it pushes her to the edge. The tightening of her abdomen is ready for her to cum and she does. She arches her back, the sensation of her quivering pussy overwhelming.

The arousal of her knowing that he’s in his room, touching himself despite his abhorrence to it. She licks her juices off of her fingers, her breath heavy as she watches the familiar red dot of the camera.

Ume’s awakened by the opening of the door, and one of the many men announcing she’s allowed free reign to wander their base. That her status was cleared, that the nullifier accomplished its effect and healed her.

She was now free.

It was another offer she realizes, to really get her to leave this place. But she’s having so much fun here, in her own little space. She wishes to be a blight.

A stain that is so deep that it leaves Overhaul a crumbling, cumming mess every time he leaves her room.

He doesn’t touch her, there is no tenderness. Just her words and his own, and a continuous cycle of touching themselves at moments she hopes are timed at the same.

She smiles at the men, a coy thing that holds so much, but does not provide them with what exactly she’s thinking.

Ume’s not done here. She’ll see this through in its entirety.

“I won’t be going,” she sits against the wall, her hair so long that she toys with one of the strands. “I want to be here.”

They seem a bit nervous about her response. Not exactly sure what the procedure for a willing asset is.

“You can leave now,” Ume says. “I won’t be asked again.” They can hear the threat in her tone, her eyes narrowing as the men shuffle out in fear of incurring her terrifying attitude.

Overhaul returns with a quickened haste. Not even bothering to knock on her door and she grins.

“You’re a wretched thing, aren’t you,” he states. His finger pointed at her. She stares at the appendage; wishing to take it deep against her throat.

“I am, but aren’t you?” She’s challenging him. Miura Ume is a shogi piece on the board. The way she calculates his every mood, her eyes gauging him. She could eat him alive. It’s nauseating.

“I could kill you,” he’s trying to convince himself it’s the only rational thing to do. She sits up, the chemise sliding down her shoulder exposing her supple skin. He yearns, a sick part of him wants to see her exposed for him.

He wants to touch her just once.

No! His mind screams. She’s foul. She’s stunning.

Ume moves her hands to hold his, he begins to tremble. He wishes he could grapple with his failing control. To get back at her. She purses her mouth against the tip of his gloved finger, tongue brushing against the leather. When she bites down she never looks away from his sight.

He makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. Ume releases her hold on him and licks her lips. The pink of her tongue swipes the redness of her mouth. Overhaul is a mess of a man. What kind of the leader of this organization is he, that he is seduced by a single woman.

Ume lowers herself onto her knees, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She’s close to the crotch of his pants and he wants to run. So he can rid himself of these thoughts she’s causing.

“You won’t break your favorite toy,” her silky voice slithers in his ears. Her fingers feather across his thighs. Ume’s own hands wishing to dig into him.

The light sensation causes shockwaves across his flesh. Overhaul is enraptured. What else could she possibly attempt to do. He replays the image of her mouth around his finger. A dark rumbling in his gut jolts him away, and she smiles. It breaks him away from the reverie of this siren below him.

He stands above her, he could press all five fingers deep into her neck, ceasing her diabolical wishes. “You’re heinous,” he grits out. A realization blooming in his mind that he’s lost this power play. He was already in her clutches the moment he saw her.

She owns him. Every touch, every single way he jerks himself off, the orgasms he has. It’s all for her.

He’s mortified. He feels the room is like a cage. He’s the canary in the cat’s mouth.

Ume pouts. “I could make you feel so good,” she says this as if it’s the only thing he needs.

Overhaul wants to throttle her. He wants to hike up her gown and shove his cock so far deep into her that it makes her hold onto him.

This is dangerous, his mind says. You need to clean yourself.

“You’re a plague,” he spits. “You’re just a wretched thing who wants too much.”

She laughs as if he said the funniest thing in the world. “I am, but you enjoy this just as much as I do.” Ume sits up no longer on her knees. He still towers above her.

Overhaul could end it right now. He just has to touch her. Let her rot against the floor. He’s torn, he fears she’ll reanimate on her own. His own personal karma.

“You want me on my knees for you, telling you the dirtiest things imaginable.” Her eyes were that of a feline.

She backs him against one of the corners of the room. Overhaul slides down against the wall.

He wants this to end.

Ume lowers herself to his level, her lips grazing his ear. “You want me to fuck you senseless.”

Overhaul grunts. “I don’t—“ he can’t get the words out. He’s completely losing himself. He can touch her. He can. He can’t.

Ume’s tongue prods against his neck and he nearly groans. The way it slides up to his chin. He would let her take a bite out of him. It’s what he wants.

He feels his cock hardening against his trousers.

She leans a bit away, getting a good look at him in this state. That longing look in his eye. The lust in his crotch. He’s only wearing his medical mask and she wants to tear it off of him.

“You’re spineless,” she mocks. “You can’t even help yourself or your boss.”

He snarls. “What do you know,” he fires back. “You come here like a leech wanting a cure.”

“I know more than you do,” she tells him.

“Your teasing routine ends here,” he stands. The way she moves away from him pushes him to continue backing her against her own bed.

“Is this what you want? Do you want me to fuck you senseless? Or do you just want my finger in your cunt?” Overhaul feels a recharge in his power. He could finally see her resolve falter.

“I do,” Ume flushes, looking away from him. A gentle admittance. “I want all of it.”

The room is silent, save for the labored breaths from Overhaul and the quiet words from Ume echoing.

They look at each other for a long moment.

Overhaul makes the move first. He presses his lips harshly against her mouth.

She makes a noise but tries to remove the mask he’s kissing her through.

He rips it off and his hands lift her gown as she lays back against the bed.

Her legs wrapping themselves around his waist pulling him to her. Her touch causes him to groan. Overhaul feels his head swimming. She’s delicious. The way her lips form around his, her tongue gliding against his own.

He refuses to lay his hand on her, that part of him with his clear disdain for touch still scratching in his mind. It tells him to stop. To cease.

She’s a drug. Her moans are intoxicating. Her lips drag against his cheek and she suckles his neck.

“I want you,” she presses into him, reaching to unbuckle his pants. Ume grabs his cock through the fabric. No, she’s filthy.

“Fuck,” he exhales. She’s pliant against him.

“Touch me, Kai,” she moans, her legs tight around him. His hips are close to hers. His hands are still balled into tight fists.

“Just one finger,” she prods. “Make me cum.”

He snarls. Overhaul bites her shoulder and she yelps. “I’m not touching you.”

She laughs against his lips. “Your loss.”

They continue like this, lost in the sensation of each other's lips. His hips thrust into hers and she groans a needy sound.

She unbuckles his pants, freeing his cock. He feels dizzy. Ume guides him towards her wet entrance.

“Fuck me,” she moans. Overhaul gnashes his teeth together, his balled-up fists feeling like an anchor.

He’s imagined this so many times. This exact image, her voice right at his ear.

“Please, Kai,” her voice calls again.

Overhaul grunts, thrusting into her. Ume’s cries were delightful. “Oh, Kai.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and she hugs him tightly to herself, caging him in her arms.

She looks elated, something he hasn’t seen in her expressions. Her controlled, manipulative faces have only been used against him. At this moment she looks genuinely content.

His fists begin to uncurl. Just one touch to wipe the way her tendrils are covering a bit of her face.

A loud knock stops them from going any further, startling them both.

“Overhaul!” A panicked voice comes. “There’s a plan of attack from the heroes.”

Overhaul and Ume look at each other for a long moment. “Put your clothes on.”

He pulls out of her. The feeling of it winding them both up. He would let his men take care of it. He could finish here, before going out there to fight. No. He stumbles away from her. He doesn’t have time to clean himself and he shudders.

Ume is unnervingly complacent through it. Once he readjusts himself, setting his mask on.

She’s back to being fully clothed, her eyes blankly staring ahead.

“I’ll be back,” he says. His head dips, to get her to look at him. Her bright eyes stare into his. “I’ll finish this.”

Ume releases a laugh. “You won’t.”

Overhaul stands at his full height, eyes narrowing. “I will,” he promises.

He shuts the door leaving her alone.

Ume's trademark grin returning.

She walks back to her bed, curling into herself as she waits.

It’s been hours and there’s a breach in her room.

A team of heroes enters and there's a multitude of voices.

“Someone’s in here!”

“It’s a woman! We need a medic!”

They come in a cluster, checking her, and Ume’s tears come falling forth. Her character this time is a hysterical woman who was wrongly experimented on.

“We’ll get you out of here, miss. What’s your name?”

She is inconsolable as she gives them a name, a fallacious one. “Yumi, my name is Yumi. Please, I want to go home.”

The heroes escort her out with a blanket over her shoulders. She looks around the base and it is destroyed. The walls are crumbling. Nothing looks the way it did when she first arrived.

Ume tries to hide her grin. A beautiful downfall that Kai went through, she thinks.

So pretty.

The trip to Tartarus was a vicious one. The seawater lapped against the tides of the boat. The young charge, in connection with the Hero Commission, shields himself from the onslaught of the rain.

“Fujita! We’re almost to the island.”

Agent Fujita, one of Ume’s many disguises only clad in a suit and raincoat, nods affirmatively. “Good.”

The man calls for the steering of the boat to the dock, the entire vessel moving onwards and the agent does not budge. She stays with the breeze against her face, whipping her face as the boat’s sound alerts the officers on Tartarus of an arrival.

The ship is stopped against the steel dock as they rein in the anchor, wrapping the sails against each other as the young escort jogs to her.

“We’ve arrived. Please go this way to the base.”

Ume follows down the ramps. The clanking of the steel-toed boots beneath her into a rhythm.

“Private Personnel coming through please.”

“Identification is needed for passing into Tartarus.”

“I have it,” Ume says, her fingers handing over the passes and a note from the Hero Commission granting the access.

“Agents Gentaro and Fujita?” The man in the dark outfit is splashed by the nearby tide. “Dammit, alright. That’s fine. If they know you’re here. We’ll send them word you’ve arrived.”

Gentaro steps forward. “We won’t be here long, it’s a quick interview with one of the prisoners.”

“It’ll be a fast one,” Ume adds.

One of the other guards snickers. “As long as you both don’t try to break these monsters out.”

Ume smiles a familiar grin that halts the guard's laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The massive gates open forward walking into the long corridors of Tartarus.

“This place is bright,” Gentaro hisses. Ume doesn’t react, only blinking in response.

“The criminal you’re about to meet is infamous, you know? He’s pretty vile, kept a woman and a child, using them for test subjects.”

Ume’s new voice has a low tone. “I’ve seen quite a bit in my heyday, Gentaro.”

He snorts. “Alright, alright. Gotcha, well, I’ll tell the guards you’re ready to see him.”

The room they entered was accessed only through a fingerprint scanner, which Gentaro uses. Ume walks in, standing across a reinforced glass, waiting for them to bring him in.

Ume feels her heart rate pick up. It’s been months on end since the disbandment of the Hassakai, since their separation.

Ume was taken in with the heroes, saved by them. Or so they think. But Ume returns as Agent Fujita now.

She hid her identity, easily enough with a modifying bullet she received from the underground which gave her a new quirk.

It was the ability to change the face, so one does not recognize her immediately as the woman who was captured. Ume had many ties, connections her grandfather left behind; she was able to put them to good use. She used them all to give her this gift before her.

To be able to see him again.

Chisaki Kai enters, completely wrapped in a straight jacket, pushed forth on some sort of mechanism that was strapping him in.

“Agent Fujita, Prisoner 23554 is here. Chisaki Kai, Overhaul, reporting in.” The bleeping over the intercom disperses and she is granted some privacy when the guards leave. They had nothing to worry about since Overhaul could not wield his quirk nor did they know that Ume didn’t even have one.

She smiles.

He looks pathetic, still facing downward, refusing to look up. His hair is overgrown. He has tired eyes, stubble coming in and she wishes to grab his face and rub her lips against the roughness of his chin.

“Kai,” she calls softly. Her voice is the sound of honey dripping from the corners; like it was seeping through the glass. He shifts, raising his head slowly. When he comes to, his eyes widen in shock. “You,” he swallows roughly. His throat feels dry.

She coos, walking closer to the glass, her hands resting on the counter. “Kai, my destroyed, beloved,” she grins all white teeth and red lips. Overhaul quakes, feeling overcome with the oddest emotion. Is he excited? Is he terrified? It’s a rush of cold pouring through his veins. He feels the familiar ache of the loss of his arms, wishing to thrash in his restraints, but the poisonous woman is here and she still speaks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ume says in that deceptive tone of hers. It sounds as if she were in awe, but her eyes. Her gaze is so dark that he imagines himself devoured by her.

The reversal of the situation. The way he had her for months on end, trapped in his own area. He should’ve had the upper hand to take back his own control of her relying on him and the odd web of seduction they found themselves in.

Before he was free, he could’ve left her to her own devices. He should’ve killed her when he had the chance, but she stands before him on the other side of the glass. This time, she is where he once was. Now she could continue to see him, the vicious cycle continuing. He wants to yell, scream out to the guards. The rush of blood goes to two places, his head and to his dick.

“You’re here,” he says. She laughs lightly, nodding. Ume was a wretched woman for this. A parasite burrowing her way into his flesh, never coming out. He wants to heave. Her constant advances were intoxicating, they cursed his life. He loathes his own weakness for not denying her. He couldn’t have. He was so close. He aches for her.

She tsks, her fingernail scraping against the glass. The sound high pitched and torturous to his ears. He gasps, not knowing how to make her stop.

Ume presses her lips too close against the mirror, the shape of her lipstick leaves a mark there. He clenches his teeth tightly together so he doesn’t groan.

She leans back, admiring her handiwork. Him on the other side, just how she always wanted to see him. Overhaul, the methodical, locked away in a small room just as she was. He was her likeness.

Ume’s voice points out the obvious, but he can’t bear to think of it, he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Kai,” she says, observing him as if she’s viewing a virus through the lens of a microscope. His head hits against the steel of the odd-standing chair that he’s restrained in. “You look ill.”

The contamination has already made its home in him. In her. He can’t escape it. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s wheeled away back to his cell. Once the resounding click of the door encloses him in. He can feel her still there with him, the moaning in his ear returning and the tears are hot against his face.

Your loss, her voice returning from that time. Replaying itself over and over.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha imagines

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music. Never thought he would come back here one day. His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries. Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle. “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.” Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda. “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.” “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided. “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be. “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.” “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him. “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!” If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.” Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was. “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his. “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?” New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash. “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out. “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?” “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile. “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.” “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?” Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!” “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.” “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.” And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that. “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was. God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue. “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.” “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there. “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes. “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.” Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were? “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but … “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should. He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was. Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all. “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits. “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence. “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference. “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son. “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right. “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them. “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.” “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive. “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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tlhrfanfic · 3 years

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[Late] Thus With a Kiss I Die

Title: Thus With a Kiss I Die Ship: Late (Nate/Procrastination&Logan) Warnings: Idiot Gays, Kissing, Making Out, Disaster Gays, One Brain cell shared. Cuuuute. Words: 12,444 Request: So this was a Kiss AU list request that was requested by @romantichopelessly for a present for getting lots of stuff done with her Botwot AU: 36. we can never be together.

Summary: Logan was just cast as Juliet in the school play. He is not thrilled. Then he finds out that his crush Nate is Romeo. He's doomed.

Read on AO3

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Logan couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t believe that a senior class in an all-boys boarding school was doing a play. No, that was statistically likely, all things considered.

What he couldn’t believe, however, was that the school had chosen Romeo and Juliet as the play for the senior class that year.

Why?

They weren’t even changing the genders of the female characters to appear pro-gay or any of the less than moral types of things private institutions did to bring in donators.

“Maybe our parents just thought they’d get a kick out of some of their kids dressing up in drag and talking falsetto.” Logan snorted and glanced at his best friend.

Virgil sighed.

“I’m soooo glad I got the nurse. Yes! No one cares about that old hag’s lines. Smooth sailing.”

Logan glared.

Virgil cleared his throat, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, and shrugged.

“Yeah… tough luck you got the lead.”

Logan laughed at that and shook his head.

“Thank you.”

Virgil raised a brow. “For what?”

“Most people have been congratulating me.”

Virgil snorted. “Oh, yeah. Well, any time dude.”

Logan sighed and nodded.

“So uh… have you talked with him yet?”

Logan, who currently had his face in his hands, could hear the slight smirk in Virgil’s carefully phrased question. He suddenly longed to glare daggers at his friend but, due to all the excitement, was too exhausted to bother. Definitely not his excitement, but it was felt nonetheless.

“I don’t have any idea to whom you would be referring to Virgil.”

Logan attempted to silence the other with a look but his gamble failed.

Virgil’s smirk widened. “Oh you don’t, do you?”

Logan mustered up the energy to actually glare daggers his way, but there still wasn’t much fire behind it. He sighed.

“What am I going to do?” he asked, a slight whine to his words that he generally avoided.

Virgil sighed as well. “Why are you asking me?”

Logan rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses.

“One of us is actually in a romantic relationship and it is not me.”

Virgil blushed and shrugged.

“It’s all still very new though so I don’t know what you expect from me here, Lo.”

“How do I get him to like me?”

“Dude, you’ve liked that guy since we started high school. If anyone knows how to get him to like you, it’s you.”

Logan groaned.

“Has Patton been having you listen to those self-growth tapes again?”

Virgil shrugged but smiled softly and, for a moment, Logan smiled as well. He was very pleased to see his friend so happy. “They’re really not so bad.”

“Good to know.”

Logan sighed.

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

Logan looked up at Virgil as if he’d grown an extra head.

“Right. Tell Nate Lassus, whom most of those students who identify as gay or bisexual and/or pan want, that I’ve had a crush on him for three years? Someone who I should not even want because truly, what do we have in common?”

“You mean aside from the fact that you guys like each other and want to kiss each other and make out and do I need to keep going?”

“That does not promote a healthy relationship, Virgil.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Then you get to know him and I am certain there is something you guys have in common.”

“Also, he does not like me. Don’t think I didn’t hear that.”

“He does, and I hoped you would.” Virgil stuck out his tongue.

Logan bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his friend. Virgil had been on this whole theory that Nate liked him as well. Which was absolutely absurd and held no merit whatsoever despite Virgil and Patton’s so-called evidence.

“Patton said he looked excited when you were chosen for Juliet. Even looked your way, hoping you were looking at him.”

Logan looked up at Virgil. For a moment, there was a sliver of hope but reality sunk in.

“This is Nate Lassus we are talking about, Virgil. He’s just excited to get to kiss a guy on stage.”

Virgil groaned but dropped the subject. Logan knew that wouldn’t be the last of it, however, he was happy for the break.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate watched as his two best friends fooled around with some of the prop swords backstage. He was currently working on some backgrounds, hammering some pre-cut wood boards that would be used as trees or perhaps castle props or any number of things.

He didn’t do the whole painting bit, but he could definitely manage hammering support pieces of wood to the backdrops.

As he worked, Nate thought back to the assembly when they were informed that a play would be put on and the parts that they would perform. When he had heard his name first, announced along with the name of the play’s male lead, his only thought had been a half-hearted wish.

If only Logan could be my Juliet… he’d thought and then—as if his thoughts had actually held any power at all—Logan’s name had been called and Juliet’s had followed. Nate could only glance at Logan, hoping to see what the other’s reaction had been. Unfortunately, it had looked like… well, not disgust, which was good… but definitely shock and dread. Nate had tried to tell himself that the looks were more about the role he’d been given and had nothing to do with himself.

It felt like a lie, but it made Nate feel better all the same.

“Take that, heathen,” Janus’s crisp voice broke through his thoughts. He glanced up from his spot on the floor as he shifted to the next set of backdrops and supports.

“Never, you scallywag bitch!” Remus cackled and rushed at Janus, the pair’s swords clacked with every strike.

Where Janus actually had had fencing lessons and moved with finesse and experience, Remus struck down with pure force and nothing else. With Janus’s slight frame—at five-foot-four—it would seem that Remus’s strategy could gain him the upper hand. However, it was the smaller teen’s quick and fluid footwork that secured his victory.

As Nate had guessed, Remus’s wood sword was soon sailing across the room, clacking onto the tiled floor. Remus cackled, rather than growing angry, and rushed to get the wooden sword. With the more chaotic of his friends distracted, Janus turned to Nate while continuing to run through different fencing patterns.

Sharp eyes met Nate’s, one a deep brown and the other a warm gold. He said nothing, knowing that whatever it was his friend wanted to say, he would get to it when he was ready and not a moment sooner. Still, as the moments ticked on, Nate wished he would just get on with it already.

“Sooo… Logan Wright is your Juliet… now why does this seem so fitting.… Oh right, because you complete morons are in love with each other. Maybe even the teachers and staff know it and this is the whole damn school’s way of saying ‘Now Kiss’.”

Nate rolled his eyes. He tried to stay chipper and upbeat but now that it was spoken, he could no longer ignore the siren call of his crush as a topic.

“Jan… he didn’t even look at me… what if…”

“Hopeless…”

“Jan, I’m serious here.”

“And so am I, Nate.”

Remus returned.

“How do you know Logan likes him anyway, babe?”

Janus looked at his boyfriend and shrugged.

“I can’t really say how… just trust me on this. My instincts are solid when it comes to people’s love lives.”

Nate wanted to argue but, since Janus was his best friend from grade school, he already knew it was pointless. Not to mention, Janus had walked into the school freshman year, spotted Remus, and pointed him out to Nate.

“That guy is strange and quite possibly deranged. And I’m not sure how I know this, but we are most definitely going to date.”

Nate had snorted and moved on. Then it had happened in Junior year, long after Janus had forgotten about the fateful statement he had made two years before. So he might have been right back then, but Nate really didn't want to have to wait two years like the other had to find out if his best friend’s prediction today would come true.

“You really should tell ol’ Logan how you feel, dude.” Remus shrugged, grinning that almost maniacal grin of his. Nate couldn’t help but grin back.

Still, his friends obviously didn’t get it.

If Logan had any feelings, he would have looked his way at the assembly when he’d realized it was Nate who he’d be kissing.

Oh, fuck. That’s right.

Not only was it that Logan would be kissing him…

Nate would get to kiss Logan.

“And this look is Nate now realizing that not only does he get to share the lead with his crush, but he also gets to kiss said crush on stage in front of everybody.” Janus murmured with a side glance at his boyfriend. Remus snickered.

Nate threw them the double bird and kicked them out.

Getting back to work, Nate put all thoughts of crushes and kisses out of his mind.

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan almost didn’t make it to the meeting with Mr. Thomas Sanders, the drama teacher who was putting the show on, and Nate. He was just going to continue on with his normal routine and that would be that. They would realize he just wasn’t going to do it and they would get someone else.

Then he realized that part of him wanted to go. Was it curiosity? Or was it the siren call of having a valid reason to spend more time with Nate?

Logan blinked as he looked around, finding himself already headed in the direction of the theater.

It took a lot less time than he hoped to reach the two large oak doors, opening one of them and slipping inside. He was not surprised to see Mr. Sanders’s bright, welcoming smile. He was also not surprised to see that Nate was not there.

Nate had a habit of running late… all the time.

Something that would annoy him in anyone else, but with Nate, it somehow just worked.

“Logan! Thank you for being here,” Mr. Sanders said, still smiling brightly. “Nate should be here soon.”

Logan nodded, ignoring the heat rising up the back of his neck.

He jumped a moment later as the oak door opened once more, his head jerking in that direction.

In walked Nate, looking just as attractive as he always did. It was because he was having what Roman, Patton’s friend, would call a ‘swoon moment’ that Logan didn’t notice it at first, but Nate’s gaze was on him from the moment he walked in the door.

Pretending that his blush was not currently seeping into his cheeks, Logan cleared his throat and turned in Nate’s direction. Standing up straight, Logan nodded at the other in greeting. While they weren’t friends, they had shared a number of classes and projects and school trips over the years. They’d talked but only in a capacity regarding those things.

None of which were personal or intimate.

Logan withheld a sigh, then remembered he should say something.

“Salutations, Nathan.”

“Hey yourself, Logan. Hey, Mr. S.”

Nate joined them and Mr. Sanders led them to the front row of seats. He had three padded fold out chairs, one in front of the other two. Logan took one of them and Nate took the other. Ignoring how close he was to Nate at that very moment, Logan focused instead on Mr. Sanders.

The drama teacher took the chair in front of them and beamed at them both.

“Thank you both for coming. I just wanted to take a moment and congratulate you both on getting the roles, even if you may not have wanted them.”

Mr. Sanders who smiled apologetically.

“I had suggested we hold auditions and I was overruled.”

Logan shrugged, a habit he had picked up from Virgil.

“It can’t be helped now and it’s not for any major event. I mean, I may suffer from making an absolute mockery of myself but… I have my own reasons for doing it, I suppose.”

“Oh really? Do tell,” Nate pressed, flashing an easy grin.

Logan flushed. He couldn’t believe he had just said what he’d said. He had felt surprisingly calm in the moment though he supposed that was just the effect Mr. Sanders had on people.

Effective for an instructor teaching performing arts.

“It’s just… I’m a team player. We all have to do this. I cannot be selfish. I’d also… well, I’d kind of like to challenge myself too, I suppose.”

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Nate was playing Romeo and Logan would get to kiss him.

Logan’s heart rate increased and his eyes fell to Nate’s mouth before quickly looking away.

“Huh. Well… that’s epic. Good for you, dude.”

Logan nodded.

“Nate’s right. That is very epic!” Mr. Sanders agreed.

He clapped his hands.

“Alright, I know I don’t have to tell you two that Romeo and Juliet are the two most important characters in the play. Obviously, without them, the play would not exist. But, I want you guys to forget about that.”

Logan’s confusion must have shown on his face because Mr. Sanders elaborated. “You are to think of them as people. Think of them as your friends. Or better yet, yourselves. I want you to get into their minds and think about why they do the things they do in the way they do them.”

He stood up, pacing back and forth as he explained, glancing at them every so often. He then returned to them, taking the chair once more.

“By doing that, you open them up in an intimate way that allows you to become them. Does all of that make sense?”

He looked at Logan first before glancing at Nate.

Logan considered the words. He wasn’t an actor. That was Roman.

Which reminded him to make a mental note to speak with Roman after this. Unfortunately, while that would help future him, it did not help him now.

“I suppose… it’s… well, if we don’t feel what they are feeling…” Logan was grasping at straws. He was hands down the worst choice for the character of Juliet he had ever seen.

Nate leaned toward Logan. It was subtle but Logan, constantly aware of his surroundings, noticed. Strangely, it was comforting.

“Let me take a stab.”

“Go ahead, Nate.” Mr. Sanders said with a grin, pleased with the other’s enthusiasm.

“It’s because we can’t just learn the lines and do what the movements and motions say. Anyone can do that, but in order to sell what we are doing, we have to understand the character’s struggles to better perform them on the stage. By becoming the characters, we help the audience experience what they were feeling and thinking.”

“Very good Nate! Exactly.”

Logan glanced at Nate and smiled his appreciation. Nate shrugged.

And winked.

Logan blushed and turned his attention back to Mr. Sanders who was rising to head to his bag. He pulled out what appeared to be papers and two boxes and headed back to them. Handing each boy a stapled document, he continued to talk.

“These are your scripts. Feel free to highlight, take notes, change directions, and—although anything you change must be approved by me—I am always open to and strongly urge suggestions.” He then handed them each a box of two highlighters. “Rehearsals will start tomorrow after school. They will run for an hour and a half during weekdays for the next four weeks. The three weeks after that will be two and a half hour practices and the week after that is show week.”

He glanced at them both.

“Any questions?”

Logan, afraid to speak, shook his head. He held his script and highlighters close, ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Nate must have agreed in some fashion because Mr. Sanders continued on.

“One last suggestion. You are expected to run your lines outside of rehearsals. It’s the only way to memorize the lines. However, you are not expected to run lines together. I do want to strongly urge that you do. Find a nice quiet place to run the scenes you guys have together. You both already seem pretty comfortable around each other. That will help! Especially when it comes to practicing the kiss.”

He glanced at Logan. “You do not have to practice the kiss but you will want to. Trust me. It’s not easy to kiss strangers on stage.” He shuddered and Logan had to wonder at his experience with such things. Perhaps it was better not to ask.

He ignored his flaming cheeks and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for all the suggestions and insight, Mr. Sanders, but if that is all, I really must go.”

“Yes, of course. You are both good to go and I look forward to seeing you at rehearsals.”

Logan took off and didn’t look back.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he was able to keep his disappointment and irritation off his face until he thanked Mr. Sanders and left.

So… that was it then.

Logan didn’t like him and was actually disgusted by the idea of not only kissing him but practicing kissing him too.

He sighed as he ignored the urge to hit the wall. Even if it would help him let out his frustration, he’d have a broken hand and that would just do no one any good.

Deciding to put the feelings into doing something useful, Nate made his way to the door that led backstage and headed in. Making his way past the dressing rooms and costume closets, Nate reached the main backstage floor, where he found Janus.

His friend was busy working, sketching backgrounds onto the backdrops that had already been assembled. Janus didn’t even bother looking up.

“Nice of you to join me, Nate.”

Nate had no idea how he always knew it was him without looking, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to ask. Janus would likely take it to his grave anyway.

“Hey, dude.” Nate sighed.

Janus immediately looked up from what he was doing, his eyes narrowing.

“What happened?”

Nate blinked, a shiver at the dangerous look in those two toned eyes running down his back. Not for the first time, he was extremely happy that Janus was his friend rather than an enemy.

“Nothing… exactly?”

“Darling, it’s my job to be vague and interesting. Yours is to be strong and mmm… a little himbo-esque. Now, I’m going to ask you again. What happened?”

Nate sighed and explained what had happened in the meeting and Logan’s sudden rush out the doors at the end. Janus kept the same unreadable expression on his face throughout the story and when Nate finished, he sighed.

Nate frowned.

“What?”

“Nate… darling… I don’t mean to sound harsh when I say this… who the hell am I kidding, yes I do. Especially since I know you can take it. Think about what you just told me and then think about who it is you’re talking about…”

“Logan… yeah, so what?”

Janus tutted.

“Okay… I see I am going to have to spell this out for you, hon. In the years that we have attended this school with Logan, have you ever seen him date? Ever see him hold hands with anyone?” He watched Nate closely. Nate, not sure where this was going, just listened. “Ever see him hug anyone… well, I suppose he gets hugs from Patton but that definitely doesn’t count. Everyone gets hugs from Patton. But anyway… ever see him in any scenario like those I mentioned?”

Nate didn’t really need to think about it. He had liked Logan for so long, it was as if his presence was a magnet for Nate’s gaze.

“No… but I don’t really see how…”

“So gorgeous… so sweet… but so, so dumb.”

Nate might have felt offended but the other said the insult with such fondness it almost felt like the other compliments he’d offered.

“Janus, just get to the point.”

“Very well. Of course Logan ran out of there at the thought of practicing kissing you… he’s never been kissed, Nate.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Janus smirked and stood up, coming to stand in front of him. Nate looked down at him and sighed.

“I… never even considered… huh… okay… so I should definitely go find him then?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Janus winked. Nate grinned at the other and nodded at the sketch.

“Nice trees, by the way. I think that’s what they are—”

“Fuck you,” Janus said but grinned.

“You wish.”

“Don’t I just.”

Nate chuckled and pointed at the hall that led to the exit with his thumb.

“I’ve got a cute nerd to find. Catch you later.”

“Oh, have you learned how to catch things now?”

Nate, who totally could not catch anything thrown his way, gasped.

“Low blow, my friend.”

“It’s how you know I care. Now, go find Logan. Also, maybe consider telling him how you feel… just a thought. No pressure.”

“Yeah… we’ll see. Later.”

“Go get him, darling.”

Nate snorted but headed out for the dorms.

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan reached the dorm room that he shared with Virgil and quickly buried himself in the thing that made him feel safest: homework.

He was so lost in his homework that he almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. It wasn’t odd to have someone knock on his door, so Logan didn’t give it much thought. It was likely Patton looking for Virgil or something. Patton often forgot that his cell phone would be a much more efficient solution to finding his boyfriend.

Then again, also knowing Patton pretty well by now, it was just as likely he was checking up on Logan. That boy did wear his heart on his sleeve and would want to help if he perceived someone was upset in any way.

Therefore, when he went to open his door, it was with great surprise, and uncalled for embarrassment, he found Nate on the other side.

“So… hey.”

“... Hi.”

Logan did not miss how Nate glanced into his dorm before looking at him once more.

“I was wondering if you… uh… if you had a moment.”

Logan shifted slightly but nodded. When he said nothing, Nate continued.

“Do you think we can maybe take this inside?”

“You wish to be invited into my dorm room?”

Nate chuckled softly. Logan frowned. It almost sounded fond but that made no sense. Logan was barely a blip on Nate’s radar. There was no reason for him to be fond of anything that had to do with Logan.

Deciding it was obviously projections of his own feelings—why did he have them again?—Logan pushed any thoughts and inquiries on fondness from his mind.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you.”

Logan considered before nodding, opening the door and stepping away to let Nate pass. He closed the door behind him, trying to ignore the twisting of his insides from having his crush in his room.

Not sure what to do with himself, Logan returned to his desk and leaned against it, watching Nate and ignoring the heat rising up the back of his neck.

“Alright… we’re inside. What did you wish to speak to me about?”

Nate, who had been checking out the room, seemed to focus on Logan’s side.

Interesting.

He grinned at Logan now and crossed from the book shelf he had been perusing to stand in front of him.

“Yeah, so… I just wanted to talk about the play…”

Logan sighed.

“Obviously. There is no other reason that could have brought you here. I know we don’t talk too much and we aren’t friends so there would be no reason to hang out, but surely, after years of school with me, you would know that I am pretty observant.”

Nate chuckled that same fond laugh again. The sound had heat slipping into Logan’s cheeks and he cleared his throat.

“What about the play, Nathan?”

Nate sighed. “Janus told me you’ve uh… you’ve never been kissed…”

Oh.

Right, the kiss in the play.

Even though this was obviously about kissing each other in the play, Logan couldn’t get past the fact that he would have to kiss Nate. If it had been anyone else, he was certain he could manage. But with Nate…

What if he was horrible? What if Nate told everyone?

No… Nathan Lasses could be a dick but to most people, he was kind and fair and nice. Besides, in Logan’s humble opinion, Remy—Nate’s twin—was much worse.

Nate wouldn’t tell anyone. Knowing Nate, he’d offer to help him practice and—

Suddenly it clicked. He knew exactly why Nate was there.

“Ah. You wish to practice the kiss,” he said simply.

Nate’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before the look was replaced with something else. Something softer.

Do not even think of that word, Logan, or so help me.

“Correct, as always, scholar.”

Logan blinked. Huh, a nickname.

As far as Logan had been informed by Patton, nicknames were things people gave to other people they really liked and wanted to be friends with.

Logan held back a sigh.

Friendship… well, I suppose if that’s what he wants from me… it would be selfish of me to refuse.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he forced a smile.

“That… that would be okay with me…” Logan said.

This was not how he wanted his first kiss—especially not with Nate—but as there was no hope for more, it would be pointless to hold out on the impossibility that there ever would be.

Besides, it was better this way. He was far too busy for silly things like holding hands, little whispers spoken between kisses, flirting, cuddling. He wasn’t big on those things anyway. Even if he would have liked to try… with Nate.

“Wait, really? I honestly thought I was going to have to like talk you into it or something.”

Logan shook his head and held up a hand.

“Not at all. Janus, though I’d love to know who his source was, is correct. I’ve never kissed or been kissed. This is an adequate solution. Completely logical.”

Nate frowned and Logan hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

Nate had a look on his face that was hard for Logan to read. It was reserved but there was something else too. Before Logan could figure out what it could be, Nate was suddenly grinning and clapping. It was as if nothing had happened but there was still a weird charge in the air.

Or maybe Logan was reading too much into the situation.

“Nothing’s wrong, dude. Let’s get started.”

Logan’s eyes widened at that.

“Now?”

He was pained to admit to himself that he might have squeaked the word, but if any one else asked, he would take it to his grave.

Nate snickered.

“Aww, getting shy? Cute.”

Logan blushed at that and, regretfully, flailed his embarrassment.

“I’m not cute!”

“I mean, of course you don’t find yourself attractive, scholar, but you never know. Some people might.”

“Oh, yes, and someday Patton will stop hanging out with cats even though he’s pretty severely allergic.”

“Haha, yeah right.”

“Exactly.”

It seemed to hit Nate what Logan had meant and suddenly the taller teen was closing the remaining distance between them.

“I’m serious, Logan.” He looked it too. His dark brown eyes locked with Logan’s and he smiled the same smile from earlier. The one that Logan was positive he was projecting because it made zero sense for Nate to smile at him like that unless…

No Logan. You already ran the probability of a guy like him liking a guy like you. He doesn’t like you in the same way you like him.

“Hey, Logan…” Nate said, voice lower. Softer.

Logan looked up, unsure of when he looked away. His grey eyes met brown once more and suddenly the atmosphere changed.

He could no longer hear the world outside his dorm room and time felt slower. He wasn’t sure what was happening and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Clearing his throat, he swallowed.

“Yes, Nathan…” he whispered.

Why was he whispering?

“Can I kiss you?”

Logan swallowed again but nodded.

Nate smiled and Logan was shocked again to find it seemed kind of… disappointed. Sad, even. Then Nate was closing his eyes and Logan, completely out of his element, did the same.

The first contact was soft… almost as if it hadn’t been there at all. Logan found himself leaning into it and his lips found Nate’s. He gasped and pulled away, bringing a hand to his mouth.

“Very good, for your first kiss,” Nate said, grinning teasingly. Logan blushed.

“Shut up.”

“No, no. None of that. I’m serious. You did good.”

“Right.”

Logan had no reason to believe him, of course, but it was nice to hear. Then again, unlike Logan, Nate had kissed many people. Maybe he knew what he was talking about. He cleared his throat.

“Should we… keep practicing?”

Nate seemed surprised by the question but laughed and nodded.

“We absolutely should keep practicing. Definitely should. One hundred percent.”

Logan rolled his eyes but snorted.

“Very well. Kiss me again.”

Nate smirked.

“Yes, sir.”

With that, he placed his hands on Logan’s hips and tugged him against his body, leaning down to kiss him deeply on the mouth.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate couldn’t help the pleased sound that escaped him as he kissed Logan deeply. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed, lips moving against Logan’s.

Never in all his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would get the chance to kiss Logan. Now that he had, however, he felt as if the universe was laughing in his face.

Like, yeah you get to kiss him but you ain’t never gonna have him. Not how you so desperately desire.

Fuck the universe.

If he couldn’t find the words to tell Logan…

If he couldn’t trust himself to say the right things…

Well, he’d just have to tell him through his kisses.

He could do that.

Logan’s arms wrapped around him and Nate took that as all the permission he needed to hold Logan closer. He moved one hand to the small of Logan’s back as his other hand came up to frame the intelligent teen’s face.

Nate was the one who had to pull away, inhaling sharply as he tried to catch his breath and chuckling as Logan chased after his retreating mouth.

“So…” Nate asked, the word low and still a little breathless. “How was that?”

Logan just blinked up at Nate. “H-huh, what, I’m sorry?”

Nate laughed deeply at that and, before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly leaned down to kiss the other’s forehead.

“Cute…” he said, voice low and fond.

Logan blushed but said nothing. Silence fell between them, neither knowing what to say or what to do. Logan seemed to want to say something—maybe ask something—but it was clear to Nate that he was nervous. Nate wished he could think of just the right thing to say that would reassure the other that he wasn’t ever going to judge him.

If he only knew how much I care…

Then maybe you should tell him. That voice sounded far more like Janus’s than it did Nate’s.

Yeah right.

Nate smiled down at Logan and was about to ask him if it would be okay if they practiced again tomorrow but in the next moment Logan was pressing closer and kissing him. Having absolutely no problem with this change in plans, Nate wrapped both arms tight around Logan, embracing him completely as he kissed back hungrily.

It was Logan’s turn to make pleased sorts of sounds, the other teen obviously getting lost in the feelings and sensations. That was all well and good, of course, but the sounds did things to Nate and if he allowed those sounds to keep doing those things to him, well…

He wouldn’t need words to tell Logan how he felt because Logan would be able to feel it.

Pulling away quickly, Nate worked hard to catch his breath. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“Okay! So, I think this is a great place to stop. We can totally practice some more tomorrow, if you’re okay with that—”

“Yes.” Logan said it so quickly he seemed to surprise even himself.

Nate’s brows rose as Logan cleared his throat and spoke up again, more reserved.

“I mean, that would be agreeable.”

Nate smirked at that.

“Great. Same time after classes? Back here?”

Logan nodded but then stopped.

“Yes… but can we go to your room? I just… if Virgil’s here I’m not going to be able to… you know… it’ll be too embarrassing.”

“You do realize that we are going to be kissing in front of a whole lot more than just one student, right?”

Logan nodded, pulling off his glasses. He pulled out a little handkerchief, wiping gently at the lenses.

“Of course… but that’s a little different. We’ll be on stage and the audience will mostly be in shadow. Not to mention, the audience will be one collective group. I won’t know where my friends are sitting—well, most of them will be in the play but that is beside the point—and so I won’t see them. If it were just Virgil there though… it just seems too…”

“Intimate,” Nate asked, hopeful.

Logan considered the word and finally nodded.

“Yes, exactly. Too intimate.”

“Well, I mean I have a roommate too, so I’m not sure I can promise Janus won’t be there.”

That was a bold face lie. He could and would make sure Janus would not be there.

He grinned. “But if that’s cool with you, then I am more than happy to sacrifice my room for our kissing practices.”

Logan blushed but smiled gently, nodding.

“Thank you.”

Nate nodded.

He glanced at the door and then back at Logan.

“So… I have to be honest… kissing you is kinda fun…”

That’s the understatement of the century.

Still, he didn’t want to come on too strong and scare the other. The blush this pulled from Logan also made the light confession so very worth it.

“Mind if I take one for the road?”

Logan’s eyes brightened and Nate watched as the other’s eyes darted to Nate’s mouth and back while licking his lips. He nodded slowly.

“I would not be opposed.”

“Good.”

Nate moved in close once more, hands on Logan’s hips as he guided him in closer. His brown eyes met gray and he grinned warmly.

“Cute,” he said as the other blushed a little deeper.

Before Logan could argue his point, Nate closed his eyes and kissed Logan hard. Logan gasped into the kiss, perhaps surprised by the sudden intensity. Nate took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Logan’s mouth, exploring it and caressing Logan’s tongue with his own.

Logan let out an almost whimpering sound and Nate groaned in response. It was Logan who ended the kiss this time and Nate couldn’t deny that he had definitely chased after his mouth. Logan was panting and pulled out of Nate’s hold, the taller teen letting him.

“Wow…” Logan breathed, bringing his fingers to press at kiss swollen lips.

“Yeah,” Nate agreed, catching his own breath. Silence fell between them again but it was almost comfortable this time. Nate grinned.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in class and kissing practice after.”

Logan nodded. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Nate moved close once more and kissed the top of his head.

“See you tomorrow, scholar.”

“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”

Nate had the walk back to his own dorm to consider everything that had just happened. He couldn’t believe how well Logan had taken to kissing him. Then again, Nate had it so bad even if Logan couldn’t kiss, he’d still enjoy it… but there was also the fact that Logan was intelligent and smart and capable and it was no surprise at all that he had picked up kissing just as well as any other subject or skill.

But Logan had enjoyed it… and had wanted to keep doing it.

Just like that, hope returned in Nate’s heart.

Maybe, just maybe, his hopeless crush on Logan Wright wasn’t so hopeless after all.

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan continued to press his fingers against his lips throughout the night. He did it so much that it almost became something of a fixation. He would remember the feeling of Nate’s lips pressed against his own and brush against his own lips, still sore from all the kissing.

He would then smile and sigh as his insides fluttered until he reminded himself that the kissing was just Nate being a good friend and one would assume a good actor. Logan was pretty certain that Roman went on often about something he called ‘method acting’.

His and Nate’s kissing was simply that.

Logan longed for so much more.

Still, Nate had obviously enjoyed kissing him so maybe this kissing practice would prove to be a good thing.

Logan brought his hand up to his lips once more, smiling softly as he brushed against them idly.

It was at that moment the door opened and Virgil shuffled in, tossing his bag by the little couch in the middle of the room. He collapsed onto it, only then glancing Logan’s way.

Logan, still lost in the memory of kissing Nate, had registered Virgil’s arrival but said nothing, still sliding his fingers gently across his lips.

“Hello~ Earth to Logan? Dude, what’s going on with you?”

Logan blinked and looked at Virgil.

“Oh, hey there, Virgil. Did you hang out with Patton?”

Virgil nodded before shaking his head.

“Nope. We’re talking about you… you’re acting very… uh… Roman-y and Patton-y today.”

Logan blushed because what that meant was that he was being very feelings-y. Logan usually was not a very feelings-y person. His best friend knew this well.

There were, however, some things he was not yet aware of.

“I kissed Nate today!” Logan said. Then he added, as an afterthought, “a lot.”

Virgil’s eyes widened almost comically.

“You did what? When?”

“While you were out…”

“So, what? Did he ask you out? Are you two dating? Do I have to give him the best friend talk where I threaten his life if he hurts you?”

Logan’s brows rose and he stared at Virgil waiting for him to end his tirade. He didn’t respond until Virgil grinned sheepishly and gestured in a go-right-ahead sort of manner.

“Okay, first… you have the wrong impression but, considering I blurted out that I kissed him with no other context, that’s not your fault. He sought me out here and I realized that he was offering to practice with me and well… I accepted.”

“So…” Virgil bit his lip. “Look, I know when we’re younger and they tell you your first kiss is a big deal and all and it’s best with someone you really like and that likes you too but… it’s not like it is on tv.”

Logan shrugged and smiled at Virgil. He knew it wasn’t a fully happy smile, but honestly, Virgil was a good friend. He tried his very best to help Logan any time he needed to feel better.

“So… even though you have to kiss him in the play when doesn’t like you—which, I’m still positive he does, that’s not the point here—how was it?”

Logan laughed as he watched Virgil shift to the edge of the couch, leaning forward in Logan’s direction, obviously invested in whatever it was Logan would say next.

The intelligent teen blushed but smiled slowly, biting his lip.

“It was so much better than I could ever imagine.”

Virgil chuckled at that and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel that. Remember when we were younger and we were grossed out by even the thought.”

Logan nodded. In fact, until that first kiss, Logan had still very much thought that. But now…

“I want to kiss him again.”

Virgil laughed again.

“Damn, L.”

Logan blushed. “Shut up.”

Virgil snorted. “Nope. Never. Besides, it's my job to keep you on your toes.”

Logan shook his head. Idly, he brought his hand up to brush at his lips again.

“I’m a little worried though… it’s obvious that you like kissing him so much because of your feelings for him, L.”

Logan nodded. He too had come to the conclusion.

“Okay… maybe don’t have so many practices?”

Logan considered and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, maybe.”

Virgil seemed happy to have helped and went off to shuffle in his backpack for his homework. Logan sighed.

Virgil had a point. A very valid and logical point.

Unfortunately, Logan was not sure how well he would be able to resist now that he’d had just a taste of what could never be.

Pushing the problem out of his mind, Logan turned his attention back to the problems that were within his ability to solve.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate honestly felt like he was floating as he walked through the dorms, heading for his own room. He headed inside, making his way to his bed and tossed himself onto it. As he looked up at the ceiling, he brought a hand to his mouth and slid his fingers against his lower lip.

A smile slowly slipped onto his face as he pulled his hand away and bit his lip. He couldn’t believe how readily Logan had agreed to ‘kiss practice’. He had even agreed to continue it.

Nate found himself torn.

As much as he had so very loved kissing the intelligent teen, he also knew that he was only setting himself up for heartbreak. The play—and so the kissing—would come to an end and things would go back to the way they had been.

Still, Nate didn’t see why that meant he couldn’t enjoy it while he had the chance. If it had never been for the powers-that-be choosing himself and Logan for Romeo and Juliet, he would never have gotten the chance to feel what it was like to kiss the boy he had liked for so long.

The door opened and Nate, a soft, warm smile on his face and insides toasty, looked up to meet Janus’s gaze. Janus, apparently noting the love-sick look on his face, sighed and tugged Remus in by their linked hands before closing the door.

“I take it from the revolting look on your face that you talked to Logan?” Nate noted how eager the other sounded.

He cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah… yeah, we talked a bit…”

Nate looked away as Janus narrowed his eyes.

“And…?”

“Ah, and nothing… I just told him I completely understood he was nervous.”

“Did you tell him how you feel, Nate?”

Nate had the decency to look sheepish.

“Not… exactly…”

Janus gave him the look that meant he should continue.

“But he was very responsive to my kisses.”

Janus’s eyes widened and Nate felt a rush of pride at causing such a rare phenomenon. It was not often that one surprised Janus Trompeur.

“You kissed him?”

Nate could hear the excitement in his voice. Not wanting a misunderstanding, Nate cleared his throat.

“Yeah… I told him it was understandable he was nervous since he’d never been kissed and he came to the conclusion that I was offering to practice with him and so he agreed and we kissed… a lot… and it was so much better than I could have ever imagined.”

Janus crossed his arms. “Uh huh.”

“You should have seen Logan too… I’ve… I’ve never seen him like that before… I can safely guarantee it was enjoyed by both parties. He’s also agreed to continue. We’ll have another practice tomorrow.”

He glanced up at Janus, hoping he would see where he was going with this.

The other sighed and winced.

“Oh, Nate… you beautiful, dumb idiot… you’re going to try to kiss him in love with you, aren’t you.”

Nate flashed a grin.

“I’m going to kiss him in love with me, Janus!”

Janus sighed, bringing a hand up to palm his face before he shook his head.

“Oh, darling. That’s not going to work if you don’t tell him how you feel.”

Nate sighed.

“Yeah, you should lick his juicy butthole as well!”

Janus and Nate both glared at Remus, who just cackled and continued to listen.

“Nate…”

Nate threw up his hands in frustration.

“Okay, okay! Damn it, I know, Janus. I know.”

Janus smiled and nodded.

“Very good… and….”

Nate sighed and rolled his eyes but answered dutifully, as expected.

“And I promise I will find some time before the play is over to tell him how I feel.”

Janus flashed a victory smile.

“Good. Now, all this dabbling into your love life has made me hungry. Let’s go get dinner.”

Nate grinned and nodded. Ignoring the return of the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Nate pulled on his coat and joined the other two for dinner.

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan wouldn’t say he had grown used to kissing Nate three days into practice, but he would definitely say he had grown comfortable with it. Unfortunately, as Monday came and classes began once more, Logan realized that today would be the first rehearsal.

He would have to kiss Nate… but on stage.

“I can’t do this, Nate,” he said, his words a little sharp from nerves. Nate just shrugged and nodded at the audience that was currently made up of the rest of their senior class. Unfortunately, that meant the seats were nearly packed and quite a lot of people would be watching.

Unlike their parents and faculty, the other students wouldn’t hold back if he were to make an absolute mockery of himself.

Suddenly, hands were on his shoulders and he could feel the tightness deep in his bones melting away as strong fingers rubbed into his muscles.

“Sorry… I should have asked first… I can stop, if you want me to…”

Logan shook his head, letting out a little moan of pleasure as his eyes closed.

“No… this is… this is acceptable.”

Logan sighed as he focused on Nate’s hands and the way his muscles relaxed under his touch. By the time his body was completely relaxed, Logan realized he was pressed into Nate in a very intimate way. Stepping forward, he turned to look at Nate, clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the massage. I appreciate it.”

Nate smiled.

“Anytime.”

Logan, noting how amazing his body felt, nodded. “Noted. I might actually take you up on that offer in the future. Now, let’s run the lines once more before we—”

“Logan. Nate. You two are up.” Remy called, as if bored out of his mind.

Logan stiffened but gave a sharp nod. Nate returned his hands to Logan’s shoulders as he nodded to his twin. Remy walked off and Nate turned Logan to look at him.

“You’ve got this, Logan. You already have all your lines memorized. Literally. Which by the way, think you can help me with that, because I totally do not…”

Logan laughed, feeling the worry and stress melting away.

He turned to look at Nate and smiled.

“I have this theory.”

Nate grinned. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“That you’re going to do a really good job.”

Nate’s eyes warmed and his smile went soft. Once again, Logan was projecting onto this poor teenager who had no idea what he did to Logan.

“Let’s go break some legs, yeah.”

“I prefer the phrase ‘fracture a femur’ but yes, let’s.”

Nate laughed deeply and Logan couldn’t help but grin, a little proud of himself for causing such a reaction.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate, in character, made his way to his love, tears lingering on his cheeks. He swallowed hard as he took in his ‘dead’ Juliet, rushing to the ‘concrete’ dias where her body lay. Pulling Logan into his arms, he tried his hardest not to look directly at Logan’s face. He didn’t want to cause the other to crack up or break character.

Vowing that he would love Juliet and Juliet alone forever, Nate as Romeo took the colored-water ‘poison’ and began to choke. He shuddered and moved to lay beside his lover on the dias. He choked a few more times for good measure, causing students in the audience to laugh before he collapsed once more on the structure and closed his eyes.

Nate did his very best to look dead. Considering that Nate was lazy by nature and often lounged around, and he was pretty certain Janus would happily tell him to his face he looked like a dead man walking, that was the easiest part of the play.

But what would come mere moments later…

Nate felt Logan shuffle on the dias, hearing him let out a yawn, signaling to the audience Juliet had woken from her drugged sleep. Unfortunately, Nate could not see what Logan was doing lest he break character but a moment later, he gasped.

Logan called for ‘Romeo’ but when Romeo did not rouse—though it was hard because Nate wanted nothing more than to reassure Logan how well he was doing—Juliet cried for her dead husband.

Nate felt a shift on the structure and then soft, gentle hands were taking hold of his face. He bit the part of his lower lip still hidden by his closed mouth to keep from grinning. He heard as Logan professed that he would kiss Romeo so that Juliet may be with him.

Soft but firm lips pressed against his own. Nate couldn’t deny he definitely smiled into the kiss. He could also feel Logan smiling into it.

That was when it happened.

Logan cracked up laughing and Nate opened his eyes to chuckle as well.

“Well, hey there, Julie, baby.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Logan said through his laughing.

Mr. Sanders joined them and laughed.

“That was really good… we’ll need to work on the laughing but otherwise… that practice was amazing, everyone! We’ll keep working on the blocking, but just keep running your lines and memorizing them. I think this is actually going to be really, really awesome!”

Nate glanced at Logan, who was beaming at Mr. S’s praise.

He’s so pretty when he smiles. Janus is right. God, I have it bad.

“Yeah, just wait til half of us have to do it in dresses.”

Nate snorted as he glanced at Janus, who was playing Rosaline. He had a point. Janus, Logan, and Virgil—not to mention a handful of other senior boys—would be wearing dresses for the show.

“And I have every faith that you will all rock them,” Mr. Sanders countered, which earned him a grin from Janus.

Janus leaned his arm on Remus’s shoulder and shrugged.

“I mean, you’re not wrong, Mr. S,” Janus agreed.

“I know I’m not. Now, you all get out of here and have a great and relaxing night. Logan, that means you.”

Nate glanced at Logan to see his crush blushing but grinning. Virgil spoke up.

“I’ll hold him to it, Mr. S.”

Thomas beamed at that.

“Good man, Virgil. Alright, see you all tomorrow.”

Rehearsal ended for the night, Nate turned to Logan.

“So… I’m kinda hungry and I’m assuming we’re still on for kissing practice tonight?”

Logan glanced at him and nodded.

“Then let me at the very least get you some dinner. It’s the least I can do after my dumb ass got exiled and you killed yourself over it.”

“Nathan… it’s a play.”

“You’re so right. It’s a total power play. You deserve better.”

Logan snorted at that and hesitated before bringing up a fist to punch him lightly in the shoulder.

Nate feigned bodily injury, grabbing his arm.

“Oh. You got me. I’m dead.”

He then pretended to die on the dias, eyes closed, tongue sticking out.

It wasn’t until warmth pressed against his cheek that he opened his eyes to see Logan pulling back, face flushed. It was obvious that Logan had just kissed his cheek and Nate, grinning, sat up to look at Logan.

Glancing around, he noticed that everyone else had left—well, mostly everyone. Virgil, Remus, Janus, and Patton were talking at the entrance to the backstage area. None of them were looking their way and so Nate, feeling confident, turned his attention back to Logan.

Before he could even open his mouth to ask Logan if he could kiss him, Logan claimed his mouth with his own. Nate’s eyes closed and he quickly returned the favor, a soft, happy sound escaping him.

Logan placed a hand on his chest as he slid closer, his other reaching up to grip at the little hairs at the back of Nate’s neck. Nate shivered but gasped, Logan quickly taking advantage of this and slipping his tongue inside.

Nate moaned, teasing along Logan’s tongue with his own as he kissed back desperately.

“Ooooooh,” Janus teased.

Nate’s eyes opened wide as he and Logan both jumped from the kiss. He quickly glanced toward the backstage but no one was there and all sound of talking had ceased. He would have assumed that the others—seeing what he and Logan were up to—had left but he also knew Janus very well.

“That was…”

“Satisfactory.”

Nate laughed at that. “Yes, very, very, very satisfactory.”

He held the other’s gaze and smiled.

“So… dinner?”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“Very well. You’re paying.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan fidgeted with his keys in his pocket as he walked with Nate to the cafeteria. The nice thing about the school was that they had little restaurants in the cafeteria, a lot like they did in colleges, instead of what most public schools offered. Unfortunately, as they allowed the students to work there for a wage, Virgil would most definitely be present.

He sighed as he realized the long talk Virgil would want to have with him the moment he saw Logan with Nate, already feeling exhausted.

“What’s wrong?”

Logan blinked up at the other.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Logan lied. It wasn’t a complete lie, per say. Logan was used to Virgil and he never minded talking with his friend. He just didn’t want to hear the ‘I told you so’ from his friend when Virgil realized he hadn’t been limiting the kissing practices as well as he could have.

Nate, looking doubtful, frowned. “You sure?”

Logan laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah… just stressed out about the play but… somehow, I know it’s going to be okay.”

Nate laughed at that. “That’s the attitude to have, scholar!”

Logan smiled, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt he felt at not being completely truthful. Then again, there was no way he could be truthful without informing Nate about how he felt about him, and Logan…

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe it was selfish but, knowing that Nate would suddenly feel awkward and uncomfortable around him once he found out, Logan wanted to enjoy a little more time with him.

Just the two of them.

Just like this.

They reached the cafeteria and Logan followed Nate to the center of the room. Logan considered the options and was about to go order from where Virgil was working when Nate called out to him.

“My treat, so where we eating today?”

Logan nodded toward the little taco hut where Virgil stood now, watching them both. Nate, noticing Virgil for the first time, gave a start before grinning.

“Oh! Hey, Virgil. What’s up, dude?”

He moved over to the little taco restaurant and offered his fist, which Virgil bumped but not before snorting and rolling his eyes first. As Logan joined them, Virgil spoke up, not taking his eyes from Logan’s gaze.

“Hey, losers. What brings you guys down? Logan, didn’t you say your plan was to do homework tonight?”

He eyed Logan doggedly, which the intelligent student ignored, instead glancing at the menu though he already knew it by heart.

“Oh, that was my fault. After rehearsal I practically begged him to go get dinner with me because I am a sad, lonely guy.”

Logan watched Virgil closely, surprised at the slight grin slipping onto his face at Nate’s words.

“You’re not bad, Lassus. Your brother though… he’s a dick and he still owes me 50 bucks. Now, what can I get you losers to eat?”

Logan ordered what he always got: the taco plate. Nate, meanwhile, ordered a taco salad. Logan would have been slightly surprised as Nate had never pegged him as a good nutrition aficionado, but then the other asked for double meat and Logan could just sigh fondy and grin.

Nate tried to pay but Virgil completely ignored him. Food was placed on two trays and cups added afterward.

“On the house,” he said slowly, holding Nate’s gaze as if just trying to goad him into objecting. Nate seemed to realize this because he grinned and held up his hands.

“Okay, okay. I got the message.”

“Finally,” Virgil mumbled but he was grinning ever so slightly.

Logan realized that, in his own way, Virgil was approving of Nate. Once Nate took his tray to go find a great table, Logan grinned when his best friend’s eyes met his.

“Thank you,” he mouthed. Virgil rolled his eyes but mouthed your welcome before waving in the direction Nate had gone.

“He’s not such a total waste of a human, I suppose,” Virgil said finally. “But Logan… if this is something you want… you really need to tell—”

Logan sighed, cutting off yet another tirade. “I’m aware, V. I promise… I’ll tell him by the last performance.”

Virgil groaned softly. “You really, really should tell him before that but… fine… look, L. You don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to but… I’m afraid that if you don’t, all of this is going to hurt you a lot more than you realize.”

Logan wanted to disagree. Unfortunately, he was definitely not an expert on feelings and since Virgil was dating one of the two experts on feelings that they knew, he suspected Virgil likely picked up a few things.

“I vow to tell him before the start of our last performance at the latest.”

“I’ll drink to that compromise… you know, if I had a drink.” He sighed wistfully but Logan knew it was all for the theatrics. Though Virgil would swear up and down that he was not dramatic, Logan—friends with three dramatic people—knew better. He could be just as dramatic as Roman when he wanted to be.

Logan grabbed his tray, thanked Virgil once more, and headed for the table on the far side of the large, open room. Virgil called back to him, wishing him good luck, causing Logan to smile softly.

Gray eyes sought out his...friend. Logan, ignoring the sudden feeling of sadness, pushed such thoughts out of his head. Sure, Nate would never be his boyfriend, but it was clear he wanted to be friends. Logan would not be the kind of person who couldn’t be friends with someone who did not want to date him.

Nate waved his arms wildly, chuckling when Logan’s eyes met his and he corrected his course for Nate’s table. He reached him quickly enough, snorting when Nate tugged him gently to sit next to him, rather than across from him.

Logan had expected Nate to talk to him then but, as he quickly learned, Nate was very much an eat-now-talk-after kind of guy.

Laughing softly, Logan started to dig in as well.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate had eaten about half his food when he turned to Logan.

"I don't know about you but kissing sure does work up an appetite." His grin was flirty and eager.

Logan blushed and nodded.

"Interestingly enough, I have found that as well," Logan said. "I, too, am quite famished."

He continued to eat as Nate became preoccupied with stuffing his face once more.

"Mmmm."

Nate looked up at the sound of laughter. Logan was watching him eat, amusement in his gray gaze.

"Adequate to your taste buds?" Logan asked with another laugh.

Nate looked at him and answered, a bit of food still in his mouth.

"Beyond adequate," he moaned. "Thank Virgil again for me later."

Logan laughed.

"Will do."

They fell into companionable silence once more, Nate glancing at Logan every so often. Every other time he glanced, he caught Logan's gaze and both of them blushed before looking away.

Huh.

Wasn't that interesting.

Deciding he needed more time to consider the new development, Nate cleared his throat.

"So… what new book are you reading? I just picked up this great Agatha Christie novel that I'm sure you've read already but it's so good."

Logan blinked. He looked confused and even said as much.

"How do you know I read Agatha Christie novels?"

Nate laughed at that. Looking fondly at Logan, he smiled. "Scholar. You've been reading those books since we all started here. I noticed them and started reading a few myself."

Logan’s brows rose and while he didn't say anything, Nate knew exactly what that look was for.

"Yes. I read. Shocker, right?"

Logan's expression took on an apologetic sort of look and Nate laughed.

"No no. You're fine, cutie. I'm used to people being surprised. In their defense and yours, I don't read a lot. But I can and do read."

Logan nodded, a grin slipping onto his face as he turned to look at him better, leaning in eagerly.

"So which book is it that you're reading?"

"Death on the Nile."

Logan nodded with a grin.

"That one is very good but my favorite will always be—"

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd," Nate finished for him with a warm smile.

Logan blinked. He stared at Nate for a few moments, questions in those gray eyes. Nate was worried that maybe he had said too much.

Maybe Logan realized that Nate really liked him and now it was going to be awkward because Logan didn't feel the same.

And then Logan blushed and nodded. A soft smile slipped onto his face.

"Precisely."

Nate grinned as the slight charge between them in that moment settled. He didn't know what had happened but it hadn't sent Logan running and he considered that a win on his part.

They finished dinner and said their goodbyes to Virgil before heading out of the cafeteria for Nate’s dorm.

»»————　🕶️　————««

Logan was quiet on the walk to Nate’s dorm room. He knew that Nate had to be wondering at his silence but he couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet.

The reason for his silence...

There had been a moment while eating with Nate that had opened his eyes to knowledge he hadn’t been aware he had lacked.

Logan didn’t know how he knew it but the moment Nate supplied Logan’s favorite Agatha Christie novel as fact and not a guess had been very telling and Logan was almost certain that Nate liked him. A lot.

Perhaps even as much as Logan liked Nate.

Just tell him! You know he likes you now! Tell him!

He knew that his more logical side was right. At this point, with such a high probability of his feelings being reciprocated, the logical course of action would be to tell him.

And yet, Logan couldn’t.

He couldn’t even give a logical explanation as to why, which frustrated him more than anything. It just didn’t feel like the right time. Or the right place.

Logan chewed his lip.

He really hated relying on his feelings.

“Hey… half-dollar for your thoughts?”

Logan blinked up at the other. He seemed nervous. Logan smiled at him.

“I’m certain the expression is ‘penny for your thoughts’.”

Nate grinned at that, seeming to relax once more.

“Yeah, well. Pennies are practically worthless these days and I think more highly of the things that come out of your beautiful brain.”

Logan blushed at that and cleared his throat.

“Just have a lot on my mind.”

Nate nodded, falling silent once more.

Logan bit his lip before moving a little closer to the other. He tapped him with his elbow in a playful manner he’d seen Virgil do with Patton. It seemed to work because Nate grinned down at him like the sun.

“Hey.”

Logan wanted to make up for the silence and since he couldn’t tell him everything… not yet...Logan said the first thing he could think of.

“I can’t wait for practice.”

Then he blushed as he realized the implications of this. Nate looked at him in surprise, a slight flush to his cheeks as he slowly grinned.

“Uh oh…”

Logan raised a brow. He hadn’t expected that reaction. “What?”

“Looks like someone has an addiction to kisses.”

Logan blushed but rolled his eyes.

“You are what my friend Roman would call ‘an absolute dork’.”

Nate snorted.

“Roman Prince? Not surprised that’s his idea of an insult but, well, you're not wrong.”

Logan grinned, pleased to feel the air around them grow comfortable once more.

“But… I concede that, perhaps, you are not wrong as well.”

Nate grinned at him.

“About what?” he pressed. Logan glared at him. Nate took on a look of innocence. “I merely want to be clear about what part of what I said was not wrong.”

Logan knew that wasn’t the case. Nate wanted to hear him say it. He decided that since he couldn’t outright tell him how he felt, the least he could do was tell him what he wanted to hear.

It was true, after all.

“I am… addicted to kisses.”

He blushed far deeper than he expected to confess that out loud. He stopped and quickly hid his face in his hands. Nate must have glanced back and noticed he had stopped before quickly returning to him.

“Awww. No, no… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you… I was just teasing. Can I… can I hug you?”

Logan nodded but did not remove his hands from his burning face. He felt as strong arms embraced him. He stayed like that, feeling safe and secure in his arms. At some point, he pulled his hands away to press his face into the other’s chest, his own arms wrapping tentatively around the taller teen’s middle.

“How’s that? Better, cutie?”

Logan nodded, trying to ignore how warm the nickname made him.

“Do you want to postpone the practice? If you need to, then that’s totally—”

“No!”

Nate blinked down at the other in surprise. Logan could see that his reaction had been a bit too passionate considering Nate had no idea how he felt about him.

“I mean, no… I very much would like to keep on schedule.”

Nate slowly grinned.

“Then what better time to start… Can I kiss you right here, Logan? Right now?”

Logan had a feeling Nate was expecting him to laugh and playfully punch him before they continued on their course for his room.

That was not what happened.

Logan moved his arms from around him. He then threw himself at Nate, wrapping his arms around his neck, as he kissed him. Hard.

Nate’s eyes widened but soon fluttered closed as he tightened his hold on the slighter teen, kissing back as desperately as Logan kissed him.

When they finally pulled away—it was with some difficulty breathing, Logan couldn’t deny—he swallowed hard and held the other’s gaze. Nate’s gaze was curious.

“Nate…” Logan said slowly. He saw the slight surprise on the other’s face. Logan had never called him Nate before.

“Logan…”

Logan hesitated. He very much needed to tell Nate or he would always be wondering ‘what if’? As a scientific minded individual, what ifs were only useful if the question was answered. Logan needed some answers.

“Can we… can we go somewhere quiet… your room is fine… but just somewhere with not a lot of people… please?”

Nate, obviously confused, nodded.

“Yeah… we’re almost to my room anyway. Come on.”

Logan’s insides churned and tumbled as he walked at Nate’s side. He honestly had no idea what had possessed him to almost tell Nate how he felt… outside.

That… that definitely was not the place for such intimate talks such as that. No. One should take the person of their affections, ask to speak with them in private, and only for their ears, share what was in their heart.

Logan nearly made a face.

When had he become so sentimental?

He glanced up at Nate and slowly, a fond smile slipped over his lips.

Oh, yeah. Right.

They reached Nate’s dorm room soon after, Nate holding up a finger before walking inside, signaling Logan to wait. Logan, considering himself fairly intelligent, was sure Nate wanted to make certain Janus (and by proxy, Remus) was not around.

He waited as patiently as he could, rubbing his fingers against his jeans in a comforting manner. Soon enough, though it felt a lot longer to Logan, Nate returned and held the door for him.

“Come on in, scholar.”

Logan did just that, almost jumping at the click of the door as Nate closed it behind them. He then led Logan into the room, making his way to the bed and taking a seat. He patted the space next to him. Logan took a deep breath, crossed the room to the bed, and took the offered seat.

He quickly turned to Nate just as Nate turned toward him.

“Logan, there’s something I need to tell you,” Nate said at the exact same time Logan said, “Nate, there’s something I wish to tell you.”

Both of them broke out laughing, their faces flushed, gazes vulnerable.

Nate cleared his throat and held out his hands, palms up, to Logan.

“May I?” he asked, voice low. Logan nodded, placing his hands into Nate’s.

Nate, dark eyes locked with Logan’s, bit his lip before smiling.

“That’s better… now… I’m sorry for jumping the gun. You… you go first.”

Logan wanted to refuse or insist Nate go, but he decided that that wasn’t fair to Nate. He had been the one asking to talk. He should go first.

He nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Logan for the first time in his life ignored his mind and spoke from his heart.

»»————　♞　————««

Nate squeezed Logan’s hands as the other seemed to search for the courage needed to say what he had to.

Nate knew what he hoped Logan wanted to say. He hoped more than anything that Logan had come to realize that he liked Nate too. But, that could just as easily not be what Logan wanted to tell him. Maybe he had noticed that Nate liked him and was being respectful, letting him down in private.

Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

Nate could live with that. It would hurt for a while, but he could deal.

As long as it wasn’t Logan never wanting to see him again, Nate could live with whatever it was the other was about to tell him. He sighed inwardly and instead focused on Logan.

Logan, who was struggling.

Nate squeezed his hands again.

“Hey,” he said and waited until Logan’s eyes met his. “Whatever it is, you won’t scare me away.” He paused. “Unless you dress up as a clown on the weekend… then I’d say my loyalty is questionable…”

Logan laughed at that and it seemed to be the reassurance he needed. He cleared his throat and Nate leaned in subconsciously.

“... You were correct earlier… when you said I was addicted to kisses… I am very much addicted to kisses…”

He glanced down at their hands and seemed to consider what to say next. Nate watched him closely, mesmerized by him.

“I am addicted to your kisses, Nate…”

Nate blushed and a big grin slipped onto his face as it hit him.

Logan liked him. And Nate was him. Nate. Logan liked Nate.

“Are you saying-?!!”

Logan laughed at that and nodded, blushing a little himself.

“I like you, Nate. I have for a very long time.”

Nate whistled and shook his head.

“Well, that just sucks because I’ve liked you for a very long time too. Since we first met, now that I think about it. It feels like we’ve missed out on so much time.”

Logan blinked at the remark and nodded a second later when it registered what Nate meant.

“It does. But we’re here now… together...”

Nate beamed and his excitement soon morphed into unbridled adoration.

“Be my Juliet… but alive… and forever?”

Logan snorted. “There are so many things wrong with that question, Nate, but I like you, so I forgive you. I will be your boyfriend, though, if that would be agreeable with—”

“Yes! So freaking agreeable! Totally agreeable!”

Nate watched in wonder as Logan laughed, not holding back, his gray eyes full of happiness and fondness as he looked upon Nate. He couldn’t keep from surging forward and claiming Logan’s lips with his own.

Logan relaxed into the kiss with ease, his arms wrapping around Nate’s neck like they’d never stopped. Nate moaned into the kiss as Logan kissed back eagerly, sounds of enjoyment escaping him as well.

When they broke for air, Nate nuzzled into Logan’s hair with his nose before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Boyfriend,” he said, overjoyed to use the title for Logan.

Logan rolled his eyes, blushing. “Dork.”

Nate brought a hand to his heart as if he had been hurt. He then swooned and ‘collapsed’ upon his bed. Logan laughed and then shifted to hover over him.

“Let’s keep this between us… just until after the play… Virgil has been trying to get me to tell you forever and I really do not need to deal with any I told you so’s… and maybe, I also would not mind keeping you to myself for a little bit longer.”

Nate snorted. “Oh. You can always have me to yourself. I don’t mind picking Janus up by the collar and tossing him out if need be… uh, but maybe don’t quote me on that. Still, keeping up a ruse sounds fun. I’m in.”

Logan smiled down at him and Nate brought a hand up to frame his face, guiding him down to kiss him.

If they got lost in the kisses and each other, neither minded in the slightest.

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

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Thomas Sanders or Joan, nor the rest of their group. I do not own or make money off of these characters. I only own the story as it is written.

Super uber thanks to my beta reader for this fic @superweebside and the two that preread my stuff to make sure its up to par: @romantichopelessly & @sunshineandteddybears.

51 notes · View notes

silversatoru · 3 years

Text

hot chocolate

megumi x yuuji

synopsis: megumi’s days get a little less boring when yuuji starts stopping by his coffee shop

tags/warnings: fluff, college au!, coffee shop au!, characters are aged up, making out, swearing

word count: 3780

The whipped cream bottle whizzed and sputtered, the scarce remains of its contents flying all over the counter. Megumi stifled a few cuss words under his breath, silently cursing whoever finished the whipped cream and didn't replace it with a new one. He tossed it in the garbage and drug himself into the back of the shop in search of a fresh bottle. He was only two hours into his shift at his university's coffee shop, but it had easily been the longest two hours of his life. Midterms were this week, meaning every student on campus was stopping by for some extra caffeine to get through their day.

When he finally returned with his new container of whipped cream, the line of students had nearly doubled — what a hassle. He threw a quick, fluffy spiral of cream onto the drink he'd been working on and gave it to the customer, apologizing for the wait. He shoved the money into the old cash register and handed them their change, a small sigh leaving his lips as the next customer approached.

It was an athletic looking boy with pink spiky hair and a round face. He wore a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his rose-colored hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Megumi didn't recognize him, which was weird because he had a knack for memorizing the faces of every student who walked in and out of the shop.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" Megumi spoke in his signature monotone voice, too tired to add any customer service flare.

"I'm not sure," The boy stared up at the menu with a terribly confused expression on his face.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Megumi stared at the boy like he had two heads — he'd been waiting in line for at least ten minutes and he still hadn't decided?

"Well, I don't actually like coffee. So, I'm not sure what to get," he stated bluntly.

"If you don't like coffee, why did you come to a coffee shop. We literally only sell coffee," Megumi deadpanned.

"Well, I want to try and force myself like coffee — acquire the taste, you know? For the caffeine and stuff. Maybe you could recommend me a drink?"

"Uh... yeah sure. I'll just make you what I usually get," Megumi had to forcibly stop himself from rolling his eyes at the customer.

"Okay, great!" The pink-haired student called after him as he walked over to the array of coffee machines.

Megumi grabbed a cup for hot beverages, sliding it under the latte machine and filling the it with the warm brown liquid. He stirred in some oat milk and a drizzle of honey before topping it off with a layer of cream. He made his way back over to the peculiar customer and carefully handed him the drink.

"It's a honey oat milk latte," Megumi stated plainly.

"I'm not even sure what a latte is, but thank you!" His lips twisted into a toothy smile as he handed Megumi his debit card.

The dark-haired boy swiped his card through then machine and finished the transaction before returning it to the boy, "Have a nice day".

"Thanks, you too! My name is Itadori Yuuji by the way, it was nice to meet you...," he squinted his eyes in attempt to read Megumi's name badge, "Fushiguro! That's a cool name".

"Uh, thanks. I have to help the next customer now," Megumi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly — this whole interaction was so weird.

"Oh, right. Thank you again!" He called out as he turned and left the shop.

Megumi found it impossibly hard to concentrate on his job after that. For some reason his mind was consumed by his interaction with Itadori Yuuji — the peculiar pink-haired student. He found himself still thinking about it later that night, even after working all morning and attending classes all afternoon. No amount of school work was able to distract his mind from this stupid new boy.

When he woke up the next morning and slipped on his apron before heading to work, he wondered if the pink-haired boy would be back again today. He searched all morning for a head of fluffy pink hair amongst the hoards of students, but he never came.

Around ten o'clock the coffee shop always dies down, as all the students and teachers are in class. Megumi leaned back against the counter and pulled out his phone, mindlessly scrolling through twitter while he waited for a customer to show up.

The golden bells hanging from the front door emitted a soft ringing sound, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Megumi looked up to see a baggy sweatshirt and messy pink hair, and for some reason his heart jumped.

"Hey, Fushiguro!" Yuuji's face was plastered with a bright smile.

Megumi scrunched up his nose, it was weird for the boy to call him by his name — they didn't even know each other.

"Hey, how was the honey oat milk latte?" Megumi slid his phone back into his pocket and approached the counter.

"Oh, it was terrible. Fucking awful, actually," Yuuji's faced scrunched up in horror as he reminisced on the atrociously bitter flavor.

Megumi was genuinely offended. Yuuji could have told him he was the ugliest person he'd ever seen, that he had the personality of a brick wall, but to insult his coffee? That was crossing a line. Megumi knew his coffee-making skills were impeccable.

"Excuse me?" Was all he could manage.

"Yeah, it was probably one of the worst things I've ever put in my mouth. Anyway, I was hoping to try something different today," Yuuji said nonchalantly, his hands resting comfortably in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Okay..." Megumi took a deep breath, trying desperately to keep his cool, "What would you like to try?"

"Could you just make something for me again? I really don't know what to order".

"But you hated my last recommendation," Megumi stared at him blankly.

"Yeah... but eventually you'll have to make something I like," Yuuji insisted.

Megumi grumbled a quick "alright" and headed back over to the machinery, searching his mind for a recipe Yuuji might like. Eventually, he decided on a caramel macchiato — everyone likes those. He handed Yuuji the drink and the pink haired boy quickly payed before leaving the shop again.

Megumi watched him as he walked past the coffee shop windows and took a sip of his drink. The pink haired boy's face twisted with disgust, and he looked like he could barely keep the liquid down. He immediately took another sip, his body having the exact same reaction as the first time. Megumi let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he watched that absolute idiot until he could no longer see him.

He continued to refer to Yuuji as stupid, weird, or annoying, but that was completely contradictory to the fact that he couldn't get the pink-haired boy out of his mind. He found himself wondering if he would come back again for a third time, and if he did, what drink would Megumi make him? A small part of him was getting invested in this outlandish journey of finding a drink that Yuuji actually liked.

That night Megumi had a revelation — maybe hot coffee just wasn't Yuuji's thing. He decided that tomorrow he'd make him something cold, that was sure to work.

So, when the third day rolled around and Yuuji's messy pink hair came waltzing into the campus coffee shop, Megumi made him an iced cinnamon dolce latte. This time though, Yuuji followed him over to the array of coffee machines, asking him questions about how coffee was made. Megumi found himself explaining the entire process, from how the coffee is brewed to what sweeteners and creams he was adding to this particular beverage. He was honestly appalled by his own actions, he would never put in this kind of effort for any of his other customers — so what made Yuuji so different?

"So, what's your major?" Yuuji questioned while Megumi dusted some cinnamon over the top of his drink.

"Biology with a minor in veterinary technology," Megumi answered without looking up at him, snapping the plastic lid onto the coffee cup.

"Ohhh somebody's smart," Yuuji mused, "Animals, huh?"

"Yeah, they don't talk as much as people do," Megumi said, only half-joking.

"Right? People can be so annoying sometimes," Yuuji shook his head.

Megumi found his lips cracking into the tiniest smile — how ironic and blissfully unaware this boy was. He seemed to truly live life without a care in the world.

"What's yours?" Megumi asked, finally stretching out his arm and handing the pink-haired boy his iced coffee.

"Oh, sports med," Yuuji responded, his nose scrunching up as he took the first sip of his drink.

That answer didn't surprise Megumi at all, given the boy's athletic physique it was obvious he was into that sort of thing. The poor reaction to Megumi's coffee didn't surprise him either — this endeavor to find him a drink he likes is proving to be futile.

"Not good?"

"So bad," Yuuji shook his head, his eyes filled with despair and disgust, "We'll find one eventually though!"

"Maybe," Megumi didn't know it, but his face softened when he talked to Yuuji, his shoulders fell and his jaw unclenched.

There was so something so simple and calming about conversing with that strange boy.

"Well, thanks anyway! See you tomorrow Fushiguro!" His voice rung out through the shop — he really had no volume control when he spoke.

Megumi found himself watching Yuuji through the windows until he could no longer see him again —this was becoming a bad habit.

When the rush of students on their way to morning classes finally died down, one of his coworkers approached him.

"Sweet cream?" The boy questioned him, one of his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

His coworkers name was Inumaki Toge, and he was deaf and mute — selectively mute, anyway. He only communicated in words related to coffee, which was entirely too strange for most people, but Megumi didn't mind.

The two of them had been friends since Megumi first got this job two years ago. They'd even created their own communication system — Toge would talk in coffee terms, which translated to certain things that really only Megumi understood. Then, the dark-haired boy would respond in sign language, a skill he learned just so he could talk to the boy. It broke his stone-cold heart when he first started working here and saw Toge was always alone in the back of the shop. Most students didn't have the time or energy to learn a whole new language for the sake of someone they didn't know, but Megumi decided to put in the effort.

Megumi rolled his eyes, signing that no, he and the pink-haired boy were not friends.

"Americano," Toge furiously crossed his arms over his chest, accusing Megumi of lying to him.

I'm not lying! He's been coming here the past few days for coffee. I don't know why he talks to me so much, Megumi quickly signed back, his eyes narrowed at the white-haired boy.

Toge rolled his eyes at him in the hardest, most exaggerated way possible.

He's just a customer Toge, don't look at me like that, Megumi folded his fingers into the different signs, his frustration towards the mute boy growing.

"Espresso," Toge mumbled under his breath, twisting and returning to his spot at the back of the shop where would grind coffee beans and restock their shelves.

What? You're out of your fucking mind Toge. I do not like him, he's just a regular customer, Megumi angrily signed at him, but it was to no use, as the deaf boy had already turned around and was paying him no mind.

Their conversation lingered in his head for the remainder of the day though, because maybe Toge was onto something. Megumi was terrified to admit it, but Yuuji's daily visits had quickly become the best part of his day, even if he was kind of annoying.

And it continued to be the best part of his day for the next few weeks. Yuuji would come to the shop everyday and they would make pointless small talk while Megumi brewed him new drinks to try. Not a single one ever suited his palate, but he continued to return none the less. His motives were becoming questionable at this point — was he still coming for the coffee, or had this turned into something much bigger?

So, when winter break was right around the corner, and the last day of classes began, Megumi wondered what his days would be like when he didn't have their daily interactions to look forward to.

It was especially snowy today — enough to dust the ground and freeze the air, but not enough for classes to get canceled. Bundled students trudged in and out of the shop, buying coffees and hot chocolates in attempt to keep themselves warm. Their was an excited energy in the air though, it seemed everyone was thrilled for fall semester to be over — everyone except Megumi.

His heart skipped a few beats when Yuuji's familiar soft face appeared in the door.

"Hey, Megumi!" He called out, waving his had furiously through the air.

Somehow they had transitioned to a first name basis about a week ago — the dark-haired boy wasn't even sure how it happened but he certainty didn't mind it.

"Hey, you want something warm or cold today?"

"Definitely warm," Yuuji answered quickly, a shiver coursing its way through his body.

Megumi nodded, getting to work on something that he was sure Yuuji would like.

"Are you visiting family over break?" Yuuji wasted no time addressing their winter-break dilemma.

"No," Megumi shrugged his shoulders, he was one of the very few students who never went home on holidays.

"No family to visit. I live in an off-campus apartment so I just stay here over breaks".

Megumi expected Yuuji to frown, maybe even show him some pity for his unfortunate situation, but he did the complete opposite instead. He lips spread into the widest smile, and he swore he saw him jump in excitement.

"Me too! I used to visit my grandfather, but he died a couple years ago. My holidays have been pretty lonely".

Megumi looked up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. Who could have known that someone as cheerful as Yuuji was carrying such a burden?

"Where do you live? Maybe we could hang out over break," the pink-haired boy cocked his head to the side.

"Second street," Megumi answered, filling Yuuji's cup with steaming brown liquid.

He certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of seeing Yuuji more often, but it scared him just as much as it excited him.

"I live on Third! I can't believe we haven't run into each other before," Yuuji gasped.

Megumi wordlessly finished up the hot drink, subtly scribbling his address and his phone number onto the coffee label while the other boy blabbed on about how close they lived. When he was done he held it out to him, the pink-haired boy reaching out with his mitten-covered hands to take the drink.

He took a small sip and his eyes sparkled like they held the stars inside of them.

"This is so good! What kind is it?" Yuuji asked, eagerly taking another sip and inevitably burning his tongue on the hot beverage.

"Hot chocolate," Megumi spoke plainly, "I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible for you to like coffee".

"You're probably right," Yuuji nodded, "I think I'm more of a hot chocolate guy".

"No, you're a child with immature taste in drinks," Megumi scrunched up his nose.

Yuuji faked offense, and then held up his hand and attempted to flip Megumi off through his mitten — but it didn't really work.

That's when he noticed the dark-haired boy's phone number and address scribbled on the side of his cup. A light blush dusted over his cheeks and he offered Megumi a warm smile.

"I'll see you around!" He called.

A thousand butterflies flew around Megumi's stomach as he watched the boy leave and walk down the snowy sidewalk. What the hell kind of cheesy hallmark movie was his life turning into?

"Americano," Toge's accusatory voice shook Megumi out of his trance.

Okay fine, maybe I'm a liar. Fuck off, Megumi signed at him, to which the deaf boy chuckled to himself.

☃

It was Christmas Eve now, and classes had ended a few days ago. Megumi checked his phone obsessively, but a text from Yuuji never appeared. He started to doubt that the boy actually meant what he said about wanting to hang out — maybe he was just being nice and Megumi had taken it the wrong way. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, no matter how much he wished he didn't care. He'd even taken a container of the coffee shops' hot chocolate powder for Yuuji. He planned on gifting it to him, because he had liked it so much.

So, when six o'clock at night rolled around and there was still no sign of the cheery pink-haired boy, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Who knew he was so invested in this idiot?

A light knock on his front door pulled him out of his thoughts, and his heart leaped into his throat. He peered through the small peep hole of his door and euphoria spread through his body — the stupid, spiky-haired boy had finally arrived.

He opened the door and Yuuji immediately blushed, his eyes wide as he looked around Megumi's apartment.

"Hi," He squeaked, "Sorry I didn't text or anything".

"It's okay," He ushered the boy inside and closed the door behind him.

"I stopped at a convenience store and bought some cookie dough. I thought we could make them, since yanno, it's a Christmas Eve thing".

Megumi found his own cheeks get warm at the other boy's forwardness. Baking cookies felt so familial, not like something you'd do with a coffee shop acquaintance. But none the less, he nodded his head and guided Yuuji into the kitchen.

The awkwardness between them quickly melted away as they rolled out the dough and attempted to cut out fun Christmas-themed shapes. Megumi chewed on his bottom lip as he focused on the intricate snowflake cookie was trying to make, his perfectionism getting way too involved. Yuuji on the other hand held up a half-smushed blob with a few spikes coming out of the top and two holes punched through the middle.

"It's you!" he laughed, holding his monstrosity of a cookie up for Megumi to see.

The dark-haired boy scoffed, "That's terrible, it looks nothing like me".

"Sorry, Mr. I'm smart and good at art. Are you sure you're not a sculpting student or something?" Yuuji stuck his nose in the air, carefully placing his Megumi cookie on the greased metal tray.

They each cut out a couple more shapes before the oven let out a loud ding to let them know it was preheated. Megumi picked up the tray and shuffled over to the oven, carefully placing it on the top rack. He closed the door before standing up and turning around — bumping right into Yuuji, who for some reason was standing right behind him. They were the exact same height, so Megumi's nose practically slammed into Yuuji's. He blushed furiously, quickly backing up into the counter.

"Sorry," he mumbled a quick apology, though Yuuji had been the one standing right behind him, so maybe he should apologize.

"Can I ask you a question?" Yuuji cocked his head to the side, completely ignoring Megumi's apology.

"Sure?" Megumi gave him a confused look.

"This is more than just two coffee shop friends hanging out, right? You can kick me out if I'm wrong, but if I'm right, I'd really like to kiss you while those cookies bake".

Megumi's eyes widened, his heart thumping hard against the walls of his chest. Of course he wanted to kiss Yuuji, he'd wanted to for weeks — it was all he thought about while he brewed him his stupid coffees everyday.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," Megumi nodded, those few words were all that he could manage.

That clarification was all that Yuuji needed, a soft smile blossoming on his face before he stepped forward and cupped his fingers around the back of Megumi's neck. Heat spread through his face as their lips collided, every other one of his senses fading away as his body honed in on Yuuji's touch.

He'd been kissed before, several times by both men and women — but none of them compared to this. None of them were this gentle, soft, and electrifying all at the same time. Yuuji's fingers curled into the base of Megumi's hair, and he found his own hands tracing up the sides of the others' torso. He was completely drowning in the ocean that was Yuuji's lips, his mind growing foggy. He'd imagined what this would be like far too many times, but never once did he think it would be this good.

The ten minute timer Megumi had set on the oven started blaring through the kitchen, and he couldn't believe it had been that long already. A soft sigh escaped his throat as Yuuji pulled away, a smile tugging at the other's lips.

"I didn't expect so much experience from the quiet coffee barista," Yuuji poked at him, his eyes glistening with a fire that hadn't been there before.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, I guess," Megumi shrugged, grabbing his oven mitt and pulling the cookies out of the oven.

The pink-haired boy let out a light chuckle, immediately trying to grab a cookie off the metal sheet. Megumi swatted his hand away, insisting that the cookies would be too hot eat right away.

Megumi found his lips intertwined with Yuuji's again after setting down the tray — after all they'd have to pass the time while the cookies cooled somehow.

And so for the first time in a long time, Megumi didn't spend Christmas alone. Rather, he spent it with an overly-cheerful pink-haired boy who became a ray of sunshine in his life of clouds. Though he wished he liked his coffee, Megumi had no problem with brewing him hot chocolate instead. And he did, every morning for the rest of the spring semester he always had a cup of hot chocolate ready for Yuuji. He'd even stopped charging him for it at this point, throwing on a free drink discount every time he came.

#jjk #jjk oneshot #jujutsukaisen #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuuji #fushiguro x itadori #itadori x fushiguro #megumi x yuuji #yuuji x megumi #fushiguro x itadori fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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my-sherlock221b · 3 years

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Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Bloodlust

2020-21 has been a huge transformative time for many of us. Whether we wanted it or not, we have been forced to stop, switch gears, rethink, reflect, let go, make new priorities, discover who we really are and who we want to be in the face of adversity.

One of those transformations for me has been giving up on control and finding a way to surrender to the power of the universe. Another has been to not let perfection be the enemy of good.

You may well wonder---What does all this have to do with the Bloodlust rewatch and review??!

Probably nothing LOL except for the fact that I still have to write up my review on Bloody Mary and have been unable to write for various reasons. And then because the Bloody Mary review was still incomplete I could not write about the next one etc etc etc.

So when we watched Bloodlust two days ago in the continuing re-watch, I decided that I am going to re-start the review, and from exactly where I am right now!

If time and life permits I might fill in the gaps later. If not, well, life is unpredictable and weird and we keep calm as it carries on….Thank you for coming to my Philosophy talk….:)

Read below for the Boodlust review, Season 2 episode 3 and look out for the post from @soulmates-for-real on this rewatch too!!

The opening scene is the perfect switch and bait because we as an audience have been trained to latch on to types and identities and representations.

Woman in white night gown screaming and running--victim

Person who brutally beheads her—villain.

A few minutes into the episode we realize that we were wrong.

A good few minutes later we realize that we were wrong about being wrong.]

Haha.

We are idjits, swept away on the eddies and currents of this masterfully written and directed episode. Thank you Sera Gamble and Robert Singer!

The acting and the mesmerizing beauty of the two leads is worthy of an entire essay of its own but in order to have a life and finish this review I shall only say this—Oh my goodness HOW gorgeous is Jensen Ackles?!!

It is sometimes impossible to look at him in this episode because my eyes didn’t know where to land! That perfect face? The lips? Those eyes?? The quirk of the eyebrows? Those micro expressions that are constantly weaving across his face? The smile? The way his lips move when he talks?? His hair? The Samulet?

And then the shot pans out and includes his hand and the ring and honestly it’s a miracle I could follow the plot at all.

So the images I am going to include in this review, much as I love Sam Winchester and Jared Padalecki, are all of Dean Winchester. It’s a criminal waste to not do so when the man is just an ode to perfection.

Sheila O’Malley’s review of this episode is in itself a work of art and a thing of beauty so I will direct you most enthusiastically towards it and only add here my little pennyworth bits. Do click on this link but be prepared to sink into a one hour read which will make you feel like you were dropped into the episode itself.

https://www.sheilaomalley.com/?p=87187

Here is a quote from her review which is so insightful.

These are the details that a director like Robert Singer never misses, and at this point his relationship with Ackles and Padalecki would be almost telepathic (it’s probably 100% telepathic now). He has said before that he and Kripke were such a good team because Kripke’s primary concern is Plot/Gore/Horror and Singer’s primary concern is Character/Relationship. And they both end up in the same place. It’s a good mix. If Singer were also Plot/Gore/Horror focused, we wouldn’t have the depth of relationship which is the real point of the show, its real hook.

For a much briefer and far less technically adept and analytical review, read on here!

The opening of this episode shows us the Impala from every possible angle. Gleaming, gorgeous, road -worthy. This is mirrored by Dean. He is also gleaming, gorgeous and roadworthy. He is in a happy mood that not even Sam’s little brother snitty comments can deflate.

Here is the soundtrack of this episode for those who are interested.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0835248/soundtrack

Here is some random but fun trivia:

Dean tells Sam in one scene "If it's Supernatural, we kill it." One of the rare times the title of the show is actually spoken in the dialogue.

This is the first episode where Sam began parting his hair down the middle, the hairstyle he'd keep the rest of the series.

( I didn’t like his hair too much in this episode honestly but then again I could barely see anyone beyond Dean :D)

During the filming of this episode Jared injured his hand when he fell badly during a stunt. He thought it was merely sprained and went straight into filming the next episode without having it checked. But it got more and more painful and finally he went to the doctor and discovered that his hand was, in fact, broken. Because he had already begun filming, he couldn't bandage the hand until filming for that episode was finished. The writers ended up writing in an accident for Sam and his line "I think she broke my hand" to explain the fact that for the following few episodes he would be wearing a cast.

When Dean kills a vampire, blood is sprayed on his face, mostly on his right cheek. In the next shot the pattern is different, and notably the right cheek is almost clean. Furthermore, his mouth was agape when he made the kill, risking the blood getting into his mouth and turning him into a vampire. While the brothers didn't yet know how a vampire is made at that point, Gordon did and should have been alarmed that Dean might have gotten some of the blood in his mouth.

A random behind the scene shot from the episode:

Guess who she is? Apparently this is Jensen’s sister in a super brief role in Bloodlust!

On to the review, or rather some of my thoughts during the re-watch.

The first scene with the Sheriff they are interrogating him about the cattle mutilations is hilarious. The way they bluff their way into the morgue is hilarious. Dean always leading and Sam following.

Random trivia: When Dean enters the morgue with Sam and sees the name tag of "J Manners", it has been thought the name was to honor Jeffrey Dean Morgan and series producer Kim Manners. Dean guesses "John" - Jeffrey's character name - and the intern corrects with "Jeff"

It a testament to the way Supernatural has trained its audience that we barely blink when they pull out a decapitated head in the morgue, squabble over who is more chicken, dig into the mouth and eventually discover vampire fangs.

Yes, of course they do.

Next scene: Two hot guys walk into a bar…..

…….where the adorable Benny, who is not Benny in this episode but a random dude ( spoilers—later we find out the dude is a vampire), gives them directions/ mis- directions to a possible vampire nest.

We see the first glimpse of Gordon Walker, amazingly played by Sterling K. Brown, and making us worry about and dislike him almost right away. The way he is shown with the light and shade bars on his face from the window blinds is so menacing.

The next few scenes continue to build that sense of unease where the Winchester brothers, apparently telepathically, decide to double back and catch him following them, then he shows them his car and his weapons, where he references their dad and then refuses their offer for help.

The scene where he shows them his car is like a painting. (The car by the way is just as inconspicuous as the Impala –which is to say NOT AT ALL!! How do these people stay below the radar of the regular law enforcement is a mystery….).

The dust highlighting the rays of light, the two brothers on one side of the car and Gordon at the other, it’s all so consciously set up for a few seconds worth of screen time. Impressive!

Next comes a truly brutal kill, at Dean’s hands, which we don’t even see except as a spray of blood on his face. Poetic! But it is Dean’s expression that makes my stomach clench. His eyes are dead and he is somewhere deep that even Sam can’t reach, as we can see from the distress on Sam’s face.

Gordon of course is all chipper and full of bonhomie and offers to buy them drinks.

That following scene is the one which gives Wincest brother-wives vibes like 100%.

Sam plays the role of the disgruntled ‘wife’ to perfection. No one but hubby is allowed to use the nickname. He hates the male bonding going on with Gordon and the more Gordon seems to slip into Dean’s inner circle, the more uncomfortable Sam gets, until he finally decides that he just cannot physically be there any more.

Dean’s smug expression when Sam tells Gordon off for calling him Sammy, his instant worry at Sam going back alone, his hand raised in exasperation to convey to Gordon—look what I have to put up with-- the tossing of the keys to his car----it is all a symphony of Dean playing his part in the brother-wives orchestra.

The last line?! ‘Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you later.’ And Sam’s expression at that? That’s exactly the way a bullying /abusive husband would react to a nagging wife who doesn’t like his toxic friends and wonders how he can be so blind as to not see them for the bad influence they clearly are.

( Bad Dean!!!)

Sam goes back to the motel and does his due diligence by checking with Ellen, gets kidnapped by vampires, released and on his return is disgusted to find Gordon inside their motel room.

The next scene is where Dean erupts, having clearly had enough of the shifting power dynamics between them over the evening. Sam has been silently judging him since the kill and Gordon has managed to ‘other’ Sam and make Dean feel validated in his own bloodlust as a hunter.

Dean clocks Sam one.

Wow. I did not see that coming. And what shocked me at this re- watch is that Sam just takes it.

Like an abused wife, he just takes it. Not only that, sometime later in the episode he tells Dean to hit him again if it is going to make him feel better.

NO Sam! NO!!! This is NOT healthy and this is NOT the way to deal….ugh. Sigh.

Then the second half of the episode swings in and the moral dilemma they face becomes clear when the victim and villain switch roles and Dean is shook enough to question his dad’s judgement!

Dean is still kind of trying to give Gordon the benefit of the doubt even though he sees him literally torturing the vampire. But of course all bets are off the instant he touches Sam. Dean pulls his gun on him. I was surprised that he didn’t shoot him just on principle later simply because he hurt Sam even if it was a small cut.

That is Dean’s definition of monsters-- Anything that hurts Sam. 😊

We don’t know it at this time, and spoilers ahead, but maybe Dean has been so annoyed and violent with Sam at the idea that he is standing up for MONSTERS is because he might also be one….and the way he looks at the end when he realizes that his whole life’s philosophy has been upended.

There are the details about the vampires who drink cattle blood so they don’t harm humans and therefore want to be treated as the good guys. Of course it is all about the inherent struggle between who you are and what you do—something that shows up hugely magnified in the later seasons when Sam is struggling with his own demon blood addiction and the knowledge of the demon blood inside him.

He needs desperately to believe in this as the utmost foundation stone of his life and its purpose—what you DO is more important than what you ARE!

So even if you are a monster, if you don’t behave like one—that is your redemption.

But it’s not just anybody whose faith he wants in his struggle to prove to himself that he is not a monster. He needs it from Dean.

Remember the dialogue from the panic room “Don’t you say that to me. Don’t YOU say that to me.”

And the fake voicemail set up by Zachariah exploits this at the time of the breaking of the last seal.

Of course he doesn’t know any of this yet, but that’s Sam fucking Winchester for you –always purer and better than his circumstances allow. Always struggling to do better, be better.😍

It is fascinating how the visuals and the roles these two play are of rugged handsome men, badass heroes-- Dean of course super macho role playing all the time. But there are so many layers upon layers and honestly if it wasn’t for Jared and Jensen’s fine nuanced and impeccable acting adding depth to the characters, the show would not have held our interest for this long.

We are shown Sam as the brains with his lore and research, but then in the very next episode (Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things), we see Dean connect dots faster than Sherlock Holmes.

Dean is shown as the instinctively violent one with the gun under his pillow, trigger happy, and in this episode even that brutal kill of the vampire on the docks. But then please remember the way Sam kills Gordon finally. Or the insane way he bites himself to get blood for drawing sigils. Or the way he just simply shoots the crossroads demon point blank!

We see Sam as the soft hearted one and he does rescue kids once in a while, but he is never shown to bond with them even a fraction of the way Dean does—so effortlessly. Also the ladies of course, all of whom have a soft spot for Dean. The exceptions being Sarah and Madison, both of whom completely ignored Dean. Oh and that doctor from Sex and Violence.

Dean has had his share of bad dates of course with Cassie, the woman who gave birth to his magical superfast growing daughter ( who was killed by Sam), and the whole Lisa arc, but somehow we are shown Sam as the one who is invested in relationships. Hello?! Sam was planning to marry Jessica without having told her a thing about his life while Dean told Cassie the secret as soon as he thought he was in love and wanted a relationship.

So anyway, just to say that a rewatch is so brilliant because we know more about them at this point than they do and the character arc is such a thing of beauty to see unfolding!

That last scene where Dean is in a thoughtful frame of mind, the sun is rising overhead ( as a metaphor for him seeing the light, maybe?)--that insanely gorgeous shot of Dean with the ring of fire and light and his absolutely perfect face in a close up…sigh.

Then he thanks Sam for pushing him to see this grey area and for the first time in that episode Sam finally smiles.

His big brother is back with him.

And then he commits to Dean too. Ah…how it warms my heart to hear this dialogue!

DEAN I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up.

SAM What do you mean?

DEAN Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.

SAM Okay.

DEAN What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...

SAM Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.

DEAN I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

SAM You didn't kill Lenore.

DEAN No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.

SAM Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.

DEAN Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.

SAM Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Don't mention it.

Transcript here http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=2.03_Bloodlust_%28transcript%29

Guess Sam does stick around for the next 15 years to be a pain in the ass 😊

Some quotes from the writers about this episode:

· "The episode was really about what Dean would become if he didn't watch out: that Gordon was Dean in ten years if Sam didn't ask the difficult questions and keep him from getting too militant." - Executive story editor Sera Gamble

· "We set out to create a monster episode where you weren't entirely sure whether these monsters should be killed." - Eric Kripke

· "For me, the show is at its best when the supernatural story reveals something new about the brothers, or forces them to change in some way. Sam and Dean's realization that they've basically been raised as 'monster racists' was really meaty stuff. Exploring these characters' flaws is just as important as showcasing their heroism - these are the things that make them human, that make us invest in them." - Raelle Tucker

Check out this site for more amazing trivia and stuff

http://www.jonescave.com/supernatural/Episode/Episode.php?s=2&e=3#PopCulture

I have already finished watching the next episode ‘Children’s Shouldn’t play with Dead Things’….so let’s hope I get around to writing a review sometime soon !

#spn #spn review #spn meta #sam and dean #bloodlust #the epic love story of sam and dean #wincest #brother wives

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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The Weapons: The Crash

This is a series I have been thinking about with some OCs. The basic idea is that a corrupt mental institution takes in these villains and turns them into weapons for a cause unknown.

The warnings for the whole series are: mental institution, dehumanization, needles, creepy illegal mental institution practices, villain whumpees, both lady whump and male whump, referring to people as "its" and "subjects", and lots of (illegal) steroids/power enhancers

I will do individual warnings for each chapter.

Warnings: dehumanization, referring to people as "its" and "subjects", steroids (mention), IV, sensory deprivation, fake power enhancers (mention), car crash, choking (brief)

The room was white. White with the faintest trace of mud towards the floor. White that was stained with the slightest pink as if blood had been splattered and wouldn't clean.

It was silent too, dead silent. The lack of sound was alarming and unnatural, yet it fit the aesthetic perfectly. The only thing that broke the image was an eerie shadow that made people take a second glance.

The shadow led to a human, hanging by their wrists and ankle from the ceiling. They wore a thin hospital gown that hardly gave any warmth from the AC that was constantly pumped into the room. They were blindfolded with black goggles that completely obscured their vision. Their ears were covered by headphones that looked way too big for their small head.

All the subject heard, over and over, was "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. The constant 90s rock song was loud, rattling their eardrums with every slam of a drum or every time the guitar hit a chord.

It destroyed any brink of sleep they managed to catch. The incessant sound caused a headache that could not be alleviated. They were going crazy; crazy like everyone else in that building.

They were being stripped of their identity. They hardly remembered their life before Hot Blooded blasted through their eardrums. They had no name, no gender, no past or present other than hanging there in the white room that they couldn't even see.

Isolation may be the easiest way to drive one crazy. That and the music turned up to max volume. Crazy and ready to be molded into whatever the doctors deemed appropriate.

The door to the white room opened with a creak then a slam. But the subject did not hear it. They were locked in their world, fuzzy and cool without a care for reality.

"Subject 143," the doctor with a clear clipboard read. Female. Nearly white blonde hair that offset her darker skin.

"Date of admission: 17 May at 12:03 P.M.," she read with clarity and devoid of any emotion. "Weight at admission: 134 pounds. Female; 5 foot, 4 inches. Age: 19." She stuck the clipboard between her armpit and eyed the hanging subject with curiosity, "Let it down."

The word "it" rang throughout the room like fire. It spit venom at the few cracks in the plaster, making them seem like they expanded in agony.

The doctor's assistants released the subject slowly. They were professional, not unnecessarily cruel other than protocol.

The subject, female, stiffened at the sudden drop in altitude. Even though it was only a foot, it was all she knew. The slight change in pressure screamed at her nerves, but at the same time it was slightly relieving. It was the first feeling she felt in what seemed forever.

"Subject has been under sensory deprivation for a month," the doctor continued reading her notes. "Let's begin a physical evaluation."

The subject's knees hit the floor, sending a shock through her body. Her bottom lip trembled, yet it wasn't joy. It wasn't joy that she felt when her body touched the hard tiles. It was fear. Fear of this new world in a way that made one's heart race.

"Turn off the headphones." The subject felt pressure that made the small hairs on her arms raise in anticipation. She raised her top lip in a snarl, ready to fight.

A click and all was silent.

The subject collapsed forward, her hands immediately trying to reach her ears. The headache was worse now, much worse. It radiated through her ears with heat bouncing out of every pore. The dizziness made her want her music, at least it kept out this strange buzzing.

Strong arms gripped the skinny biceps, pulling the subject back onto her knees.

"She's been getting nutrients and liquids for a month now by IV."

The subject flexed her muscles. She forgot about the IV that fed her all the nutrients she needed. She never was fed food. She forgot the taste of it and the thought of actually ingesting something was exciting yet nauseating at the same time.

"Good to know. She is looking quite slender, but no worries." Hands touched the subject's core, pressing down on each rib until she flinched back, squirming in the hands that held her. Hands stuck into her mouth, forcing it open and inspecting every tooth. Gloved fingers ran over her gums, jabbing at all of the inflamed sores.

"Put dental work on that list you got there Nurse Baton," the doctor ordered. "And I want it on Anadrol-50 and power enhancers. It needs muscles fast and I do not have the time to work to devise a strict workout schedule. Rather save that for the more dangerous subjects."

"Yes ma'am."

"Start her on a diet of mashed oats with avocado and protein supplements. May sound fancy, but we need these muscles back in shape." The doctor squeezed the once-taut muscles in disgust.

"Yes ma'am."

"Other than that, weigh her and do some blood work. I expect her to be ready by the end of the week."

"Yes ma'am."

The doctor grabbed the subject's chin, tipping it upwards and took in the pale, hollowed features. Once pretty, the subject was now like a ghostly corpse from a horror movie. The doctor lifted the goggles off, watching in slight amusement as the subject blinked her bloodshot eyes rapidly.

"Well," the doctor made a few small circles on the subject's cheek. "You are quite fiery."

The subject only snarled and tried to lunge at the doctor.

"Attention all heros north of Redbrook," came the same droning voice of dispatch. Trisha groaned and leaned forward to click in.

"Trisha Jakes here, what'dya got," the half-asleep hero grumbled. She yawned, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel thinking about the pleasant dream she was just experiencing.

"The Redbrook Mental Asylum had an escape. Male, twenty years of age. About five foot nine and 189 pounds. Dark brown hair and blue eyes," the dispatch sounded bored like they did this on the daily, which is more than likely. But then their voice turned oddly foreboding, "Labeled as highly-dangerous. Use any means to capture: tranq gun, taser, anything."

"I am five miles from the asylum," Trisha already was pulling out of the parking lot she was napping in. "I can look around."

"Copy that," and the dispatch repeated their message. Not wanting to hear the description of the individual, Trisha clicked out.

This was not the first time that she had dealt with mentally sick people, but it was the first time that she dealt with one her age at the same time as being "Highly Dangerous" as dispatch put it.

Trisha leaned forward and clicked the button on her steering wheel that allowed her to call people.

"Call Colton Myers on cell," Trisha stressed every syllable. She didn't have the time to repeat herself.

"Calling Colton Myers on cell…" Trisha sighed in relief when the speaker lady's voice repeated back to her, followed almost directly by a ringtone.

"Hey Trisha, what's up?"

Trisha didn't even bother to say "hey" back. "Colton," she gasped, growing in nervous excitement. "Get out here now. There is this guy on the loose from that asylum."

"Isn't that your job," Colton chuckled on the other end. Trisha could just imagine the twinkle of laughter in his deep green eyes that reminded her of emeralds.

"Yes," Trisha replied in a flirty tone. "But isn't it your job to design websites, yet I do half of your work?" She smiled to herself. Even though it could get frustrating because Colton was practically incapable of doing anything but complaining, she loved graphic design.

"You got me. But now we are even."

"Shut up," Trisha hoped the smile was prominent in her voice, "I have to go."

"Bye-bye idiot."

"Charming," Trisha teased and hung up, quite content with her friendship status.

Trisha drove on in silence, observing every shadow as she tried to put her mind into a disabled guy's mindset. What would he deem safe? Definitely not a building, if he thought that the asylum was dangerous. Trisha shuddered, that asylum gave her the creeps. Professional, yes, but the attitudes of the nurses were disturbing.

Yet they helped keep villains locked up… Trisha shook her head. The place was in alliance with the Hero Agency. Good, safe, and most of all necessary.

She knew that the people who were admitted into the facility were villains. Some may even call Redbrook a reformation center. Trisha cocked her head, deep in thought as she half-heartedly watched the traffic.

If he was a villain, wouldn't he be searching for something villainy? Assuming that he had some form of anger issues or another mental problem -or maybe just truma?- he would likely be headed to a Villain Agency, or his home.

Yet, what good would that be? There was only one villain agency in Redbrook, assuming he lived in Redbrook. But that agency was too tiny for a "highly-dangerous" patient.

And Trisha had no idea if he even had a home to begin with.

She sighed and started to tap the steering wheel in a rhythmic beat. Periodically, she would glance down to her bow and gun to make sure they were still there.

Very suddenly, a flash of white boltes in front of the windshield. Without thinking, Trisha spun around, making other cars honk and scream at her. But she didn't care, for her eyes were locked on the thin hospital gown.

The sight baffled her for a moment. The gown was so thin that she could see his shoulder bones from fifty feet away. She pressed the gas until her speedometer read eighty-five. She was nearing, very close… almost there…

BAM!

Trisha let out a scream as her car lost control. Her seat belt started to unceremoniously pressed against her chest, restricting any breathing. She gasped for air as adrenaline and fear coursed through her veins. The seatbelt was moving up towards her trachea.

Then it snapped and Trisha fell forward hitting- but not breaking- the reinforced windshield. Her back lit up in pain as the car continued to go out of control until it hit a concrete wall.

And the world was engulfed by one big, black wave.

"Move your hand for me."

Trisha gulped and lifted up her wrist. She slowly was regaining strength over the course of a fews days. The Hero Agency and its medics had access to an array of fast-paced healing techniques.

Luckily, Trisha didn't break anything important. Just a few ribs and her jaw, but glass got into her organs. The doctors surgically removed the pieces and with the speedy recovery, she was beginning to get better.

"Good. You should be discharged by the end of the week, but keep it easy. Okay?"

"'Kay," Trisha replied and started fiddling with her thumbs. There was no way that she would be able to take it easy when a murderer just got her into an accident.

What if he knew who she was? What if he finished the job? Already, she made sure that someone was in the hospital room with her. Her boss wouldn't spare anymore heros, but Colton was already there.

Trisha looked over at the chair that Colton was slumped in. His mouth was parted open as he silently snored and murmured in his sleep. His ruffled light brown hair looked even more greasy than a McDonald's cheeseburger.

Yet even though he held an unpleasant appearance, Trisha was more than thankful for his sacrifice. So, even though the poor hero was loaded with questions, she let her best friend sleep.

#the weapons #trisha jakes #colton myers #villain whumpee #mental institution #sensory deprivation #my ocs #steroids #car crash

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crystalirises · 3 years

Text

A Gift from the Gods

I am... on a brainrot. So now everyone has to suffer with me <3

Also, please note that this contains Trans Fundy and as such, in one section he's referred to as a "she" and by the name "Flora". I just honestly really like the idea and it makes me really happy reading fics like that since it's honestly very relatable sometimes.

(Also also, Wilbur and Schlatt here are best friends and yes they raised Fundy together for a bit but pls do not ship them. Platonic parenting exists. Please do not ship them. For the love of god, do not ship them :) )

TW: Mild Body Horror and Kidnapping

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/78095399

“What you got there, loverboy?” He rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, the man slamming right into his side in his quest to see past his shoulders. The little bundle in his arms squirmed, a small whine piercing through the air, which caused Schlatt to stumble back in surprise. He glanced behind him to see Schlatt fall right onto the grass, his drunken state not really helping his sense of balance. “Wha— What the fuck? That’s… That’s a fucking baby!”

“Your skills of deduction are out of this world, Schlatt. They really are.” He trudged past him and towards the camp they’d set up. His wet clothes weighed him down, making it difficult to reach the campfire that Schlatt must’ve made in his absence. He reached the camp at the same time that Schlatt did, the drunk man was somehow much faster than him. He cradled the baby in his arms, shushing and rocking them until the baby was cooing again, beady golden-flecked brown eyes staring up at him with joy. While he waited for his clothes to dry, Schlatt sat across from him, downing another bottle of alcohol. He chuckled, rolling his eyes despite his disgust at the stench of whiskey. Even the baby hated it, for the baby had begun whining and pawing at their noise. Schlatt wiped a bit of drool from his chin. “Third bottle and you’re already wasted? Maybe your age is finally catching up to you, old man. I thought we had forever, Schlatt.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wil.” Schlatt’s brown eyes shone underneath the fire’s light, casting them in the hue of a setting sun. The man placed the bottle back inside his bag, jostling the other bottles of alcohol that were inside. “Did you kidnap it? What’s it for? Bait for tomorrow’s trial?”

“What? No!” He held the baby closer to his chest, throwing his best friend a sharp glare. The baby giggled, gurgling while his little hands tried to reach for the feather necklace that Wilbur wore around his neck. He nervously chuckled, adjusting the necklace so that the baby wouldn’t accidentally grab it. He couldn’t afford to lose it. He let the baby play with his finger instead, keeping in mind to make sure that the baby didn’t actually put his finger inside their mouth. “I met someone by the river, she’d just finished her trial but… she was too injured and well she…”

“Fuck…” Schlatt groaned, running a hand through his face. “This place is fucking hell, Wilbur.”

“I know. We just… We just need to get through the trials, Schlatt.” The baby yawned in his arms, snuggling deeper into his yellow sweater. Schlatt chuckled, a small smile on his face, but it was quickly replaced with a scowl once Wilbur met his eyes. He rolled his eyes, at least his best friend wasn’t telling him to get rid of the baby. Sally - the nice lady that he had met by the riverside - had begged him to take her baby, that she couldn’t die without the assurance that her child was being cared for. He hadn’t wanted to take the baby, terrified of the idea of fatherhood. Schlatt and Wilbur weren’t exactly parent material. Schlatt didn’t know his parents and Wilbur’s parents were— He didn’t like thinking about them that much. He subconsciously began to tug on his feather necklace. “We’ll get out of this shithole. Just the three of us. We’ll get out of here.”

“This isn’t a place for kids… How the hell did a baby get here? The gods are such fucking assholes.” Thunder rumbled in the sky despite the lack of clouds, causing both of them to wince. Schlatt muttered an apology underneath his breath, and that was all they could do to hope that the gods didn’t decide to punish them for their blasphemy. Schlatt sat up, moving until he was sitting next to Wilbur. He had a sharp glint in his eye, reaching a shaking hand towards the happily squealing baby. The baby immediately latched onto Schlatt’s hands, refusing to let go even when Schlatt tried to move back. Wilbur threw his best friend a confused look, but Schlatt was reaching for the blanket around the baby, gently pulling it back until the baby’s head was exposed. He watched, blinking in surprise. Little fox ears twitched on top of the baby’s head, flattening the moment a strong blast of wind came from out of nowhere. “... So… it’s a furry.”

“Schlatt!” He laughed along with Schlatt, both of them chuckling until they couldn’t breathe. Wilbur shook his head, a frown appearing on his face. “The baby… The baby’s one of them—”

“Who fucking cares, Wil? They clearly don’t care if they decided to give one of their children to a random human woman!” Schlatt wrinkled his nose, petting the baby behind the ears. The baby yipped, a smile appearing on their face. Wilbur frowned, biting his bottom lip while he continued to hold the baby. Maybe… maybe the baby was like them too. Maybe the baby was unwanted by whichever god had created them. He hesitated before poking the baby’s cheek. They gurgled, grabbing his hand along with Schlatt’s. His best friend chuckled, a shine appearing within Schlatt’s eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it plenty of times, but never really directed at him. He wondered if that was what he looked like too, if he cared for the baby the same way that Schlatt cared for them. He hoped so. “They’re our responsibility now. We’re going to get out and give this kid a home. Hey, we can’t keep calling them the baby. Have any good names, Wil?”

“Um…” He glanced down at the baby, mulling over what to name them. He didn’t even know what name would actually fit them. Schlatt raised a brow at him, opening his mouth but Wilbur quickly shushed him. Schlatt was terrible when it came to names, like hell was Wilbur going to allow him to name the baby. He hummed, rocking the baby back and forth until their eyes began to droop. The baby let out a yawn, letting go of both their hands in favor of biting down on their own hand. He laughed, caressing their little cheek until the baby finally fell asleep. At least they didn’t cry a lot. The gods might not be pleased with such loud noises. “Maybe… Maybe, um…”

Through the fire, he saw an orange flower growing near the tree line.

Schlatt followed his gaze and groaned.

“Flora, then?”

“Whatever, Wil. Yes, the baby is now named Flora.”

Flora… their baby. Their little miracle from the gods.

---

A pained scream tore through his throat, his head throbbing while blood spilled down his face. He could hear Flora screaming from somewhere nearby, and Wilbur… gods. His hands gripped the top of his head, large bumps rising past his hair and continuing to grow and slip through his fingers. His backside felt like it was on fire, and he could feel his bones rearranging themselves all over his body. He gritted his teeth, enduring the pain of his choice. This was a blessing from the gods, it was what he’d asked for. Another scream tore through him, the bumps growing until he could see them curl near the sides of his head. His ears were the first to go, morphing into a different shape with white fluff growing on the skin. Then he felt something grow behind him, sending him into another fit of screaming and crying while he tried to claw at the ground.

After minutes - or perhaps it had been hours - of agony, the pain subsided, almost like nothing had changed at all. He took a shaky breath, looking down at his hands that were covered in dirt. He couldn’t feel the blood on his face anymore. He looked around, catching the glimpse of a river nearby. He stumbled towards it, mindful of the little footsteps that followed after him. He was surprised the kid hadn’t run off, she should have. She really should have. He tripped near the river bank, mud staining his already tattered suit. He forced himself to move towards the water. He had to see. He had to see what he’d done to himself. What he’d chosen to do to himself.

Bright golden ram eyes stared up at him from the river’s surface. He shuddered. They didn’t look like his eyes. He took in the way his ears had changed, they were longer now and had actual fur on them. On top of his head were two large ram horns. There were a lot of golden bands hanging from them, casting glints of sunlight on the ground around him. He didn’t need to check behind him to know that they’d even given him a ram tail to match the horns. He swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat. The longer he glared at the water, the more he noticed the subtle changes that were happening to him. His suit had begun repairing itself. Large holes in the cloth - that had been there ever since his first trial - started to patch themselves anew, almost like they were never there to begin with. Even the bloodstains - both old and new - started to fade away. He waited until the transformation was over, letting his newfound powers fix himself up.

He felt a hand settle on his shoulders. Flora stared up at him, fear dancing in her eyes while she clutched Wilbur’s beanie close to her chest. He felt a pang of regret at the sight. He’d have to live with his regret. He knew that. He shakily stood up, not missing the way Flora immediately backed away from him, her ears pressed to the top of her head. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gods, he needed a fucking drink. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. Flora looked down, rocking back and forth before finding the courage to go near him again. There were tears in her eyes, and he knew that he needed to watch his next words carefully. Schlatt didn’t want to upset her. “D-dad? Is Papa Wil going to be okay? I… I can’t find him anywhere.”

“He left.” There was no hesitation in his voice, he’d accept it as the truth. Still, he cursed himself for not saying that more gently. Flora sniffled, a frown appearing on her face before she promptly burst into tears. He felt panic rush through him before he immediately crouched down to her level, trying his best to console her. She was throwing a fit, stomping her foot against the ground before letting out a shriek. He winced, darting his gaze past her and towards the tree that had spontaneously combusted. That was why he didn’t want to upset her. “It’s okay! Kid, it’s okay! You still have me. Wil… Wil’s just a dickhead who decided he was too good for either of us.”

“B-but… He was there with us! He was right there! He-he wouldn’t leave us! He wouldn’t!”

“I know… but he did.” He sighed, opening his arms before Flora threw herself at him, latching onto his suit before crying into his chest. He held her close to himself, letting her weep for a few minutes before standing up with the kid in his arms. He glanced up at their final trial, the wall of water slowly draining back into nothing. He swallowed down his guilt. He’d done what he had to. With Flora in his arms, he turned to leave. He wouldn’t think of what he’d done. He wouldn’t think of the look on Wilbur’s face the moment he realized what Schlatt was doing. He was only lucky that Flora didn’t understand what was happening, too busy hiding her face in Wilbur’s sweater to realize Schlatt’s betrayal. He shook his head. They had to go. He gave the area one last look before turning to leave. “We’ll be okay, kid. We’re finally getting out of this shithole. We’re free. We’re going to go somewhere else and spend the rest of our lives in fucking peace.”

He stumbled further into the treeline, letting the child weep while he searched for what the gods had promised him. He felt a shift in the air behind him, followed after by a powerful presence. Schlatt turned around, coming face to face with a woman. She gave him a kind smile, scales dotting her cheeks like little freckles while frills replaced where her ears should be. She had fiery red hair, and her clothes were clearly that of a god’s. Behind her was a rippling portal, giving him a small glimpse of the outside world. They were so close to freedom. They were almost free.

“How does it feel?” He ignored the question, holding Flora closer to himself in case the gods decided another sacrifice was in order. She chuckled at his action, shaking her head before walking gracefully towards him. She smelt of the sea. She paused in front of him, placing a gentle hand on top of Flora’s head. The child whined, burying her face further into Schlatt’s suit. “Shame. I do so love my little darling, but I think she loves you more. Be good to her, will you?”

“You don’t have to fucking tell me.” He batted the woman’s hand away, a dark look appearing in those golden eyes before they briefly morphed back into sereneness. She gave him a smile, sharp teeth lining her mouth while her frills flicked back and forth. Schlatt backed away immediately, much to her delight. She clapped her hands together before moving back towards the portal. He followed after, narrowing his eyes but he knew that it was over. He’d given up everything that he was, everything that he used to be, all for the sake of freedom. Flora whimpered in his arms, gazing up at him with such a heartbroken stare that he had to wonder if he had made the right choice. The woman gestured for him to step into the portal, but he couldn’t leave without forcing himself to look back at where he had lost himself and his best and only friend. The water was gone now, like it had never even been there at all. “I’ll be a better parent than you ever could be.”

“Careful, Mr. Schlatt.” Sally hissed, “Even gods have enemies.”

He took a deep breath. He needed to leave before he pushed his luck.

With Flora in his arms, he took his first step into freedom.

Wilbur would understand. He’d have done the same if he were in Schlatt’s shoes.

Yes. Wilbur would have understood. Wilbur would have forgiven him. He had to.

---

“Someone looks very dapper today.” He jumped, nearly smacking into the mirror in his haste to turn around. He glared at his dad, crossing his arms in front of his chest while the man chuckled by the doorway. His dad was supposed to be outside, talking with a customer. Fundy didn’t even hear him come in! He glanced down at his suit, frowning when he realized that his tie hadn’t been put on properly. He had wanted to surprise his dad by wearing the suit, wanted to show him that he was capable of being fancy like him. His dad smiled, gesturing for him to come closer. Fundy huffed, but walked over to his dad. “You’ll get used to it. It just takes a bit of practice.”

“But I want to do it perfectly now!”

He stomped his foot on the ground, forgetting that he wasn’t really supposed to do that. His dad flinched, but, luckily, it was only the unlit candle that began to burn. His dad sighed, glancing down at him with a warning look. He whimpered, curling his tail around his waist. “Sorry, dad.”

“No problem, kid. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?.” His dad patted him on the head, kneeling down to fix his tie. Fundy’s tail began to wag. His dad had noticed! He looked down, face scrunching up in concentration while he tried to memorize what his dad was doing. He got lost after a while. He pouted, but tried not to stomp his foot on the ground again. His dad didn’t like it when their wagon ended up in flames. After a few minutes, his dad stood up, placing his hands on Fundy’s shoulder. He had a proud look on his eyes, one that made Fundy smile with joy. “Would you look at that… Such a dapper young man. Very handsome like your old man.”

“No. I’m much more handsome.” He stuck out his tongue, darting away from his dad’s hold. He ran back to the mirror, glaring angrily once he realized that his dad’s way of fixing the tie was… perfect. His dad chuckled, sitting down on the table, reaching for a bottle of whiskey that had been left in the center. He wrinkled his nose, turning to open the wagon window so that the smell didn’t stick around the wagon. He didn’t like the smell all too much. It made him nauseous. His dad drank straight from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit jacket. He sat down on the chair by the window, resting his head against the sill while he stared sadly at the village scene in front of them. “Dad, how long until we leave? I want to see other sights again.”

“We’re setting off to a new place tonight.” He could hear his dad shuffling behind him, settling into a kneel next to him. Fundy knew that his dad wasn’t really looking out the window, but instead was focusing his gaze on him. He kept his eyes on a group of children playing nearby, all of them giggling while they passed a ball amongst themselves. He felt a pang in his chest, but he didn’t know what it meant. His dad sighed, reaching out to pull the window close. He pouted, but didn’t bother to complain. He didn’t like other people anyway, all they were good for was the stuff that Fundy could get from them. The other people didn’t like him either. They were mean and they ran away from him even though all he ever did was say hi. He usually retaliated by burning all their belongings or by stealing coins from them. “This place we’re going to… It’s a good place. No one will ever run away from you there. You’ll have friends, a normal life…”

“I don’t see why I can’t have that here, or anywhere else we’ve been to before.” He sniffled, feeling tears collect in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with his hands. His dad sighed, producing a handkerchief from one of his pockets before dabbing them over Fundy’s face. Fundy felt his tail curl around his waist again, his ears pressed to the top of his head. Maybe the pang in his chest was jealousy, he’s heard other people mention it before in passing. He looked up at his dad, biting the inside of his cheek. His dad would know what the word means. He would know why Fundy’s chest hurt the way it did. He thinks he’s felt it before… once. “Dad… What… What's jealousy? Is it what I feel every time I see other children? Is that what jealousy is?”

“Kid… Jealousy is, uh um… It’s what you feel when you want something you can’t have or it’s what you feel when you wish to be… someone else.” His dad winced, ears flicking up while his tail twitched. Fundy frowned at the answer. He didn’t think that was what he felt at all! Why would he want to be any of the other children outside? Maybe he wanted their ball? Yeah, that had to be it. He nodded his head, his eyes set in understanding, but his dad was looking at him with a sad look in his eyes. He didn’t know why his dad was upset. Fundy had figured out what he wanted. Now he just needed to get it. He turned to open the window, but his dad reached out to hold his hands in his own. He looked down, taking note of how big his hands were compared to his. “Fundy, no. I know you take up after your old man but no stealing today, kiddo. How about this? Why don’t we buy you a new toy before we leave, hm? Would you like that, kiddo?”

“I guess…” He leaned back on the chair, letting his dad ruffle his hair. His dad headed back towards the table, downing the last bit of whiskey before placing the bottle beside the overflowing trash can at the corner of the wagon. He looked down at the chair, his claws digging to the edge while he waited for his dad to sober up. He liked that his dad was always quick to sober up. He remembers how other people act when they drink, stumbling and saying mean words that usually led to their hands combusting. Fundy didn’t like those people. They were rude. His dad made his way back to him, making him forget about all those horrible, horrible people. He stood up from the chair, giving his dad a smile. “Can we buy something cool?”

“Of course, kiddo.” He watched while his dad turned to the mirror, adjusting his suit jacket and tie. His dad stared for a moment before nodding, like he was assuring himself that he looked good enough. He looked up at his dad’s horns, always in awe of how the golden bands that hung from them never fell off. His dad’s golden eyes caught his stare in the mirror, a little smirk appearing on his dad’s face. Fundy waited, pouting once he realized what his dad was going to do. His dad kneeled down in front of him, a hand reaching behind his ear. He whined when his dad pulled out a golden coin - or, well, a Schlattcoin, twirling it in between his fingers. The coin appeared and disappeared, like one of those street tricks that fake magicians would do so people would give them more money. He liked his dad’s tricks - cause they were real and not fake! - but he didn’t want to see one right now. “Hey… you used to like this trick. What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Dad…”

He watched while his dad multiplied the amount of coins in his hand.

“Dad… what are we?”

His dad sighed.

“We’re people, kiddo. We’re people.”

---

He stumbled deeper into the forest, his legs carrying him while his head was filled with that beautiful melody. It sang to him and him alone, whispering honeyed words into his ear and lulling him into open arms that would hold him close and never let go. He stumbled against tree roots, low hanging branches smacking into his face. He paid them no mind. He needed to go.

He walked and walked until he found himself inside a clearing. There was a hill in front of him, a wooden door standing out against the stone. He stumbled, falling to his knees while the song continued to circle around his mind. He could feel himself try to follow after the tune, but all that came out were whimpers. He could do nothing but stare while the door slowly creaked open, a tall lanky figure appearing in the threshold. He blinked, sleep whispering in the back of his mind. He couldn’t move, but it was alright, the figure was moving towards him. The song was getting closer now, wrapping him in a warm and fuzzy embrace, or maybe that was just the figure pulling him up into their arms. A part of him wanted to whine, to unsheathe his claws and draw blood. A part of him wanted to scream and burn the figure to a crisp. But how could he bring harm to such a lovely symphony? The figure cradled him in their arms, singing him to peace.

He curled closer to the figure, purring when a hand began to pet his ears. He hugged his tail close to himself, content to fall asleep in the strange figure’s arms. He could feel the wind against his cheek, the moonlight disappearing the moment the figure headed back into the darkness of their home. He shivered, eyes taking in the shadows. The song didn’t sound so sweet anymore.

He jumped when light suddenly flooded into the small cramped room. The man had lit a match with his free hand, lighting up the lone lantern that had been placed inside a small alcove that had been carved into the wall. He shuddered, the spell breaking and his eyes opening to the horrors of the night. The man - he knew this man - smiled down at him sweetly, but he had a crazed look in his eye that made him whimper. The man wore a coat over his shoulders, the smell of something bitter and heavy hanging in the air. He found himself not liking this new smell, preferring his dad’s whiskey over this scent. What caught his attention the most were the wings that protruded from the man’s back. They were brown at the top but turned red at the bottom.

The wings reminded him of a nightingale’s. He’s seen a few of them before, when his dad had taken their wagon through a thicketed woodland. He found them to be adorable. He gazed much longer at the man’s wings, keeping his hands to himself even though he wanted to feel if the feathers were soft. The man chuckled, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned his gaze to the man’s eyes, nearly shrieking when he looked into them. They were dark like the night sky, but empty like the void. The man tried to shush him, rocking him back and forth his arms, but he wouldn’t have it. He tried to wiggle his way out of the man’s arms, wanting to go back to his dad and to his warm bed. The man shushed him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before he began to sing again. He screamed, but it was too late. The song had begun again and it was pulling him back into a sense of calm. He sniffled, letting the man guide him back to lean against his chest.

He tried to keep himself from slipping, but he knew sleep was coming for him.

Before he was pulled under, he managed to get out one question.

“What… What are you?”

The man smiled.

“We’re gods, son. We’re gods.”

In another world, a god sits on top of her throne, smiling to herself.

She knew a child was exactly what those two needed.

She saw potential in them, and why waste such potential?

She smiled.

Two gods were made that day. One freed from his shackles, and the other born with hate.

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

Clarification: This is essentially just a god AU except new gods are either born from the olden gods or people are turned into gods. Schlatt and Wilbur were chosen by the gods and had to go through a series of trials (aka: Rising Lava, Rising Water, and Raining TNT challenges). I'm pretty sure the Raining TNT challenge was the last one in the series, but I wanted to do the rising water one because it was so dramatic as hell (and because Wilbur dies in the end of that one lmao).

Anyway, yeah. Sally made Fundy because she wanted to give Wilbur and Schlatt an actual motivation to become gods (Schlatt choosing to be a god so he can leave with Fundy to get a better life, and Wilbur choosing to be a god so he can get his child back and screw over Schlatt for betraying him).

Also, in case people are interested (yes, I know the animal symbolisms do not work but shush): Sally - Goddess of Water and Deceit (Fish Symbolism) Schlatt - God of Wealth and Greed (Ram Symbolism) Wilbur - God of Music and Vengeance (Nightingale Symbolism) Fundy - God of Fire and Trickery (Fox Symbolism)

#jschlatt #wilbur soot #fundy #sally the salmon #mcyt

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itsunclebucky · 4 years

Text

You’re Mine

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x Reader

Requested by @rebelfleur22 - Okay reader (me 😂 i wish) and bucky were dating for a long time but they broke up due to the fact that they grew apart but they still love each other, so at one of Tony's parties, bucky brings his new girlfriend to finally meet the Avengers and secretly annoy & make his ex jealous 😂 unknown to bucky his new girlfriend is a huge fan of reader (which she's also an avenger with super powers) and super nervous to meet her. So the guys are convincing the reader to be nice to her which eventually agrees even though she's still loves bucky. Can i please request one more thing 🙏🏻 i want it to be angsty with some sassy reader and if you don't mind having a smutty ending?

Warnings: Lots of angst, insults, argument, sassy reader, fluff, SMUT 18+ Oral sex (female receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, language, reconciliation.

Word Count: 4457

A/N: Thank you so much for the request my love!!! I really hope you like it. I really can’t feel my fingers but it’s so worth it!!! There are references to One Tree Hill, the dance part was inspired by a clip from the vampire diaries and the argument was heavily inspired by an episode of Friends. Hope you enjoy :)

Bucky saw you smile a lot more these days and it broke his heart because he couldn't remember the last time you smiled as brightly as you did.

You and Bucky had been in a very serious long term relationship. A relationship that was full of love, passion, trust but in the end, distance. You grew apart and decided it was better to remain friends than in a distant relationship with each other.

Bucky still loved you very much. He loved you with every fiber of his body. He would never tell you, but when he started sleeping alone in his bed at night, the nightmares would return more frequently. And he would never tell you how many mornings he spent crouched down on the shower floor crying until his chest was physically hurting.

And it's been 5 months since the breakup. He needed someone else to fill the void that was in his chest. He needed someone to love him again. And he thought his new girl Sima would be perfect.

She was perfect. With her beautiful long curly blonde hair, her natural eyelashes, her flawless figure. A girl who looked after her nails and spent hours at the hair salon bleaching her hair.

There was just a small problem. Sima might have been a gorgeous woman, but she wasn't you.

It hurt more because though you both agreed on staying friends, you rarely talked to each other. He also noticed you had stopped following him on Instagram and though that burnt a hole in his chest, he couldn't find it in him to bring it up simply because it seemed so petty.

But truthfully, the only reason you did was because of his happy posts and selfies on him smiling, the smile you didn't see on his face for a long time. Seeing Bucky so happy and thriving without you, it killed you from the inside out.

Each day, you had to force a smile on your face just so the team wouldn't worry about how you were coping with the breakup. Everyone knew how close you and Bucky were, how in love you were. And if they paid close attention, they would see the dark circles under your eyes. You were not coping well at all.

You missed him and you still loved him, so very much. Each morning you would find yourself curled up into a ball on the side he used to sleep, cradling his pillow in your arms. You refused to wash the pillowcase since you could still smell the scent of his apple shampoo on it.

But it was all in the past, and you knew if you cried a river it wasn't going to bring you and Bucky back together.

You were sat on the bar stool with your fingers wrapped around your hot cup of freshly made coffee talking to Steve about Tony's upcoming extravagant party.

"Do you really think he will invite lots of people this time?" You asked, nervously biting your lip.

Steve shrugged and looked over his newspaper. "It's Tony." You nodded in agreement.

"Hey Steve." Bucky greeted as he walked in. His white shirt pulled tightly across his muscles.

"Good morning Buck." Steve greeted back but eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

"Oh Buck. Thank you for wishing me a good morning." You said with sarcasm laced in your voice, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. "I'm so miserable without you here it's almost as if you are here."

"And thank fuck for that." He replied almost instantly with an eye roll.

You scoffed, amused and sipped your coffee.

"Hey Steve." Bucky started, getting his attention. "Have you ever looked at your ex and wondered if you were drunk the entire relationship?" Bucky smirked.

"Ha ha. Well you know what they say. If you're happy, thank your ex. At least I don't have to put up your excessive grunting when you're on top of me."

"Y/N!" Steve warned.

"Fuck you, you crazy bitch." Bucky scowled, hurrying up with making his coffee so he could leave.

"That's enough you two!" Steve intervened, sensing an argument about to break out soon.

"She started it." Bucky accused.

"She started it." You mocked, angering Bucky more.

"You know what Y/N. I'm fucking glad we broke up. You talk about my grunting, but you know what I'm grateful for? Not having to taste your disgusting fucking pussy and having to stick my cock in it anymore."

"Oh yeah." You chuckled, standing up to follow Bucky into the common room where the rest of the avengers were seated on the large couches in the room. "I'm grateful for not having to fake my orgasms anymore and not having your disgusting shit smelling breath in my face." You barked back.

"Ohhhh oh oh." Sam cackled from the couch, and immediately dipped his head when Bucky glared at him. Daring him to continue what he was going to say.

"That makes two of us you arrogant bitch and if my breath was bad, it's only because of where my mouth was moments before I was on top of you. Oh and hey. Forgot to tell you, saw something that reminded me of you today. But then I flushed it and left the bathroom." Bucky clicked his tongue as he took a seat next to Wanda.

You kept your facade up. Not wanting your friends to see what his words do to you. And you realized he called you a bitch twice.

You stomped towards the door and stopped to turn around a final time. Bucky's eyebrows raised waiting for your final blow.

"And just so you know. It's not that common, it doesn't happen to every guy and it IS A BIG DEAL!" You yelled, walking out of the common room and heading towards your room.

In the distance, you heard Sam laugh and mock Bucky with a "I knew it old man!"

You should have been delighted. You kicked him whilst he was down, but you didn't feel proud. The insults you threw at each other were harsh and you knew it. And you wondered if he meant everything he said. He probably did, right? If he didn't hate you before, he surely does now.

Bucky sat on the couch bewildered. He wondered where this sudden argument came from but he knew it was your way of coping with the hurt. Because it was what you did best, to hide your true feelings, you would become this sassy little brat and he hated it, he hated your attitude.

He was more shell shocked by the last insult you threw at him. It happened just once, he was really tired but he wanted to have sex. It didn't matter how hard you massaged his cock through his pants, he still couldn't get hard. You had told him it didn't matter, that he just needed a good night sleep and you could try the following night.

He never once expected you to bring it up and use it against him. It was private, and he was pissed because you had said that in front of his friends and teammates.

Bucky ignored the snickers around him. His phone buzzed in his pant pocket and he pulled it out, his face slightly lighting up when it was a text from Sima.

Sima: I'm outside. Are you ready to go shopping with me? ❤

Bucky quickly typed a reply back.

Bucky: hi baby. Yes, give me a few minutes.

He left the heart out. He felt weird adding emojis to Sima's texts because his heart emojis were reserved for you only.

Bucky quickly excused himself. Taking his cup to the kitchen and going to his room to throw on a jacket and give his teeth a quick brush. He then left the compound without saying goodbye to anyone.

He needed a suit for tonight's party. Tonight would also be the night he would introduce Sima to the team, to you. He was nervous and scared. He was scared about his conflicted feelings.

You sat in your room alone, your back against the headboard staring at the wall in front of you.

You were honestly not looking forward to the party tonight. Natasha had told you days ago she would stop by your room to give you one of her dresses and Wanda would come along to do your makeup and curl your hair.

It was a futile attempt to try and get out of the party since Tony had made it clear you could be excused only if you died. Meaning, he was putting a lot of money into this party and it was mandatory that every single avenger in the compound had to be there, no ifs and no buts.

Tony wasn't even a little bit sympathetic about your breakup. You recalled him saying "at least you'll find a real man now kid."

Bucky was more than a man though. He was your light in the darkness of days. He cuddled your body close to his when you were sad for no reason. He was never cruel towards anyone. You believed he loved you as much as you loved him. But with his cruel words replaying themselves in the back of your mind, you begin to wonder about that like many other things.

You've been called a bitch many times in your life. Witch, weirdo, freak were among the list of names people had for you.

You once had beautiful naturally brown hair. Until you absorbed a portion of Thanos's force, and over time it turned your hair completely white. The only thing stopping you from having a breakdown down was the fact Bucky really liked your beautiful hair. He said you reminded him of Khaleesi from his favorite TV show Game of Thrones. And when you styled it. Oh my God. Bucky was a goner.

You curled up once again on the side he used to sleep. Cuddling his pillow against your chest as tear drops escaped. You sniffled once, and then the dam broke.

You broke out into small sobs. Your eyes screwed shut tight.

"I miss you Bucky." You cried out into your empty room. Those words repeatedly falling from your lips. You stayed like that until there was a brisk knock at the door. You peeled open your eyes opened and you were now shrouded in complete darkness.

What time was it? The pillow was soaking wet from your tears and mucus. But you didn't care.

The knock sounded again and you groaned.

"Come in." You yelled. The door opened and the light was turned on. You instinctively shielded your eyes from the sudden brightness.

"Were you asleep?" Wanda's thick accent entered your ears.

"No I was fucking skiing." You replied sarcastically, hiding your face in his pillow.

"With Bucky's pillow?" Natasha snipped with a smirk. "Come on girl. Get up, we gotta get dressed and get down to Tony's party. So, up, up, up!"

You groaned but pulled yourself up nonetheless. Natasha hung a dress on the hanger that was hanging from the little knobs on your closet doors.

"Get showered." Natasha ordered and you didn't bother to fight her. You couldn't. You were just too exhausted emotionally.

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

Bucky was standing in the corner of the party with Sima on his arm talking to Steve. The elevator doors dinged open and everyone's eyes were drawn to the three women who stepped out in linked arms.

Natasha, Wanda and you.

You were breathtaking in your gorgeous tight white dress. Your white hair curled to halfway down your back, and your minimal makeup really worked together. You looked exactly how he imagined you would on the day he would eventually marry you.

"Oh my God. Is that Y/N???!" Sima asked Bucky, her eyes wide. Sima was a huge fan of yours. She saw what you could do with your powers. She was there to witness what you did to Thanos before he snapped his fingers. Sima admits you, and hoped one day you would be friends. But giving the current circumstances, she knew that was never possible.

"Yes." Bucky sighed. Then an idea popped into his mind and he smirked. "Wanna meet her?" He winked and grabbed a hold of Sima's hand as they walked through the crowd towards you.

Your face dropped considerably when you saw Bucky. Hand in hand with another woman. You recognized her as another avenger, on a different team. Your breath hitched when you saw how Bucky looked tonight. A tight all black suit, his hair slicked back into a tight man bun with that beautiful stubble on his face.

"Good evening Y/L/N." Bucky greeted with no emotion on his face. "This is Sima, my girlfriend."

The blonde girl reached her hand out for you to shake but you couldn't register anything that was going on around you.

"Oh my gosh. It's such an honor to finally meet you." She grinned so excitedly but you just stared forward. Forcing one of your fake smiles on your face.

"Ditto." You kept your hands by your side and Bucky was annoyed by your rudeness. Sima awkwardly retracted her hand and adjusted a bobby pin in her hair to hide her embarrassment.

"Y/N. Sima was just-"

"Excuse me." You cut Bucky off. Marching towards Natasha and hauling her to the nearest empty room.

"What is going on?" Natasha asked, folding her arms across her chest.

You scoffed and paced the room. Your heels click-clacked against the stone floors.

"I CAN NOT believe it!" Your hands flew through your curls and tugged at the ends.

"What? What are you talking about Y/N?" Natasha pressed.

"That WHORE STOLE MY MAN. She's out there right now. Hanging from his arm like a fucking lazy sloth. Oh God have they fucked yet?!"

"So? Y/N. It's been 5 months. Bucky is allowed to move on and so are you. I hate to break it to you honey but he's not your man anymore."

"I don't want anyone else to have him and I know what you're gonna say. I know I'm being selfish but… it kills me Nat. He's killing me."

"You still love him." Natasha stated more than asked. A nod of your head confirmed what she already knew. "Then babe if you really love him-"

"Don't tell me to let him go because that could never happen." You deadpanned.

"I was going to say - if you really love him. Go and get him before his relationship with what's-her-face gets too serious."

Natasha was right. But dread filled you. After the words exchanged between you and Buck earlier, there was no way on this planet he would ever feel the same way about you again.

Right? Wrong. When you stormed off with Natasha, Bucky had excused himself to see what was going on. He stopped outside the door and listened. He heard every word.

He couldn't believe you still loved him. And he knew if the tables were switched and it was you here with another man, he would feel exactly the same way.

But Sima. Oh God. What was he going to do about Sima. She seemed to already understand the war he was having in his mind. About making people happy, about doing what is right. Sima knew he loved you still, when they were together he would talk about you a lot and he wouldn't even realize. To save him the hurt, Sima walked up to him and hugged him tightly.

"It's okay Bucky. Go get her. I just hope we can stay friends." She said in his ear and he hugged her tighter.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey." Sima cupped his stubbed face and smiled. "You love her and you were right for each other." Bucky nodded with a small smile. They embraced for the last night and Sima decided to leave the party.

Now all Bucky had to do was wait for you to come out from the room. And once you did, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you walked back into the party. Only to be grabbed to your wrist and your body colliding with someone.

“Buck-let me go.” You scoffed, trying to break free.

“Come on doll. Just one dance.” He smirked down at you. His hands holding onto your waist as you danced together. His cologne was intoxicating, but it was your favorite. “How are you?”

You scoffed once again and rolled your eyes. “Where is Sima?”

“Broke up amicably.”

“Why?” Your brows furrowed. They seemed very happy together at the beginning of the party.

“That’s none of your business doll.”

“Oh come on Buck. Don’t be an asshole. I’m not in the mood.”

“What are you in the mood for, pretty lady?” He flirted and you were confused. Where the hell was all of this coming from? Thor wasn’t at the party so it wasn’t the mead that was making him talk like this.

Could be his hard dick that you found yourself brushing up against accidentally as you were dancing.

“Hmm, let’s see. Sleeping naked on top of the covers.” You decided two could play this game.

“That was my favorite.” He twirled you around and pulled you back against his chest and grounded his erected clothed cock into your ass. A gasp fell from your lips as you grinded slightly into him.

“God, you’re so hard.”

“Mmmm. And I’m bettin’ you’re soaking wet.”

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

Your back hit the mattress with a loud grunt as Bucky hungrily crawled on top of you. Nibbling the sensitive skin on your pulse point and pulling your dress from your shoulders.

Bucky traced his soft lips from your neck to your jawline and down your throat. Nipping and biting the skin before continuing his path down between the valley of your breasts.

He took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the erected bud and sucking it between his lips. His touch sent electrifying bolts through your body and your arousal was pooling in your panties.

You missed his touch. His lips on yours. It’s been 5 months since you’ve felt him and though you wished you could take your time with him, you were just far too horny for the slow and sensual sex.

“Bucky please.” You begged, pushing his head further down your body. Bucky chuckled against your skin as his fingers hooked on your dress and pulled it down as he ventured more south.

“Please what, doll?” He teased, kissing above your navel area before sinking down on the floor and pulling your dress completely off. Leaving you in just your white laced panties.

“Don’t be a cocky fuckin’ bastard. I haven’t had sex in months and I need you.” You huffed impatiently. He was still chuckling against your skin and you were close to telling him to forget it.

And you would have if it wasn’t for him pulling your panties down finally and growling at the evident arousal seeping through your lips.

“Jesus Christ baby. Got my mouth waterin’ here.” His large hands opened you up before him, his thumbs opened your lips as he ran his tongue from your warm soft clit down to your seeping entrance. The beautiful feeling of his warm delicious tongue caused you to clench around nothing. And Bucky absolutely loved watching your desperate hole contract.

His lips enclosed around your clit. His tongue swirling around the bundle. Your back arched off the bed and your heels dug into his shoulder blades as he ate you out like a starving man.

The sinful sounds of your wetness against his mouth and his groaning were pornographic and you thrived off of it. You were so horny that it didn’t take you too long to reach the peak. And when you were close, you were a squirming mess trying to writher out of his strong grip.

“BUCK!” You screamed loudly, your hands locked in his hair as your hips went flush against his mouth. He licked your clit with the pressure you liked. Driving you absolutely insane with need. A final lick and you were gone. Your hips jerked forward when he continued to lick from the intense orgasm and he drank every single drop that oozed out from your entrance. He watched it with great interest as it ran down between your butt cheeks to your puckered hole.

Bucky groaned in delight as he pulled away from you. Looking down through your hooded eyes, your arousal soaked his stubble and cheek. You didn’t even realize you had squirted. You were embarrassed, but Bucky seemed to love it.

“You’re too dressed Buck.” You smirked and kept your legs opened.

“That I am.”

You sat up on your forearms and watched him undress himself. Throwing his clothes in all corners of the room. He climbed up on the bed and kneeled between your opened legs. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked on his knees to the top of the bed and laid you down on the pillow you used to sleep on.

Bucky hooked your legs with his forearms and leaned forward. He teased your waiting cunt with the tip of his cock.

“Doll, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.” Bucky moaned as he watched his cock gather up your juices.

“It’s been months for me Buck.” You closed your eyes and whimpered each time his tip skimmed over your tingling clit. “Please fuck me Buck.”

Something in him changed. His eyes turned from blue to a dark brown/black. His engorged tip prodded against your entrance and then he slid home. Both of you moaning at the familiarity of him filling you up. His pubic bone bumped against your clit, causing your cunt to clench around him.

“Doll. I won’t last if you keep doin’ that.” He warned through gritted teeth. You loved how he was losing control already. And to be honest, so were you.

Your insides were tingling as your walls hugged his hot cock tightly. It was almost like a welcome home hug, we’ve missed you.

“Good. I don’t want you to make love to me Buck. I want you to fuck me! Hard and fast. Don’t be a fuckin’ pussy and just do it!” Your arms curled around his shoulders and he growled as he sat back and perched your legs on top of his shoulders.

“You and your fuckin’ attitude. You want it hard and fast? You fuckin’ got it.” And with that, he snapped his hips into you with a fast and brutal pace. His balls playing ping-pong against the skin of your ass and the position you were in meant he easily grazed your fucking G-spot perfectly. So perfectly that your cunt was permanently clenched around him. Your thick white slick gathered on his pubic bone. He rocked the bed harshly, the brass headboard knocking against the wall behind you and the mattress squeaking under your weight.

“Yes Buck! Come on baby just like that! Don’t stop.” You begged. Your skin covered in a sheen of sweat as you felt the tension rising in your tummy. “Fuck yes Buck. I’m so fucking close. Please don’t stop. Harder!”

And harder he went. The consistent rhythmic knocking of the headboard and skin on skin rang in your ears. Bucky angled his hips slightly and that was it. That was where your spot was and he hit it. Every. Single. Thrust.

“OH MY GODDDDD!!!” You screamed so loud that your voice cracked painfully. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes as your hands massaged your breasts and pinched your nipples. “I’M CUMMING!” You announced. Not that it was necessary. Bucky could feel you were close and he went faster. A few more final hard thrusts and you were coming undone all over his cock. Your juices sprayed over his tummy and he moaned so fucking loudly you could have cummed again just from the erotic sound. Bucky was right behind you, spilling his hot cum deep in your tummy. You were both spent, looking at each other with love in your eyes and no signs of regret. Reluctantly, Bucky pulled out and you winced at the loss of contact. He walked in the bathroom and you heard the water running. A few moments later, he reappeared. His half-hard cock bobbing with every move he made.

“I’m running a bath for us.” He said sweetly, placing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled and reached your hand out to stroke his cheek.

“I’ve missed you.” You said truthfully. “I cried every night for you.”

“Oh doll. I’ve missed you too. And I’m never fuckin’ lettin’ you go again either.”

“I hope not.”

“You’re mine.” He dominantly said and you chuckled a little. “Don’t ruin the moment.” He warned and you chuckled again.

“Yes Sergeant.” You went to sit up and hiss. The ache in your groin was starting to catch up to you now. “Okay maybe you were too hard.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “I’m always hard doll.”

You rolled your eyes. “I meant the sex.”

“Well, you were yelling at me to fuck you hard and fast.” He shrugged.

“Just… take me to the bath please.” You playfully hit his shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Buck?” You mumbled into his neck as he carried you to the bathroom bridal style. Bucky hummed in response and you continued. “We’re back together, right?”

Bucky sat you in the tub. The temperature of the water was just perfect and it immediately helped your aching muscles. Bucky climbed in behind you. His legs raised and he pulled you back in between them. Your back rested against his chest as he gathered bubbles on your tummy.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me clearly Y/N. I said you were mine and I’m not letting you go again. So yes, we’re back together.”

Tags: @criminal-cookies @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7

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