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tracingpatternswrites · 7 months

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Tuesday snip snip

Thanks for the tag @heartofspells. Have another little something from my current wip.

A little sneak peak at my Wolfstar Muggle AU The patchwork of us.

“I hope you’re hungry,” James told them as they stepped into the kitchen, a wide grin on his face as he turned around.

His face was a little flushed, his hair the same ridiculous mess as always, and his glasses had gone a bit foggy from where his head had been bent over the pot he was stirring. He looked as effortlessly happy as always as he spread his arms. “Come here, you know the rules.”

Teddy gave a dramatic little sigh as he walked over to give him a hug, but despite his grumblings, Sirius could see the pleased little flush on his face as James released him again.

“Where’s Harry?” the boy asked and James nodded towards the stairs.

“In his room. You better head up there, I think he’s got something to show you.”

Teddy muttered a thanks before scampering off, clearly not needing to think twice about choosing to spend time with his older, cooler cousin rather than two boring old men.

“What, no hug for me?” Sirius questioned as James returned to the stove and the other man barked out a laugh.

“Get me a beer and I’ll think about it.”

“You wouldn’t know I was a guest in this house,” Sirius grumbled as he made his way to the fridge, pulling out two bottles. “Treated like a damn servant.”

“That’s because you’re not a guest in this house,” James said, smiling sweetly Sirius pulled a face at him. “This was as much your home as mine when we were kids.”

“Did you want this or not?” Sirius asked as he waved the beer in front of James’ face, snatching it out of reach as he tried to grab it.

He saw James’ eyes flash behind his glasses before he found himself trapped, James’ arms snaking around his waist to hug him close, squeezing hard enough to make Sirius flail and wheeze.

“Welcome, darling brother, I’m honoured to have you visit our humble abode.”

“Wanker,” Sirius complained as he was released, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth, and he saw it reflected on James’ face as he grabbed the beer. “So where’s Lils at tonight then?”

“Out,” James replied with a shrug. “Girl’s night or whatever, I don’t know, to be honest I was a bit scared to ask when Mary came to pick her up. Grab the peppers, will you?”

Sirius handed him the chopped vegetables, watching as James dumped them into the pot.

“You still coming to Teddy’s game this weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” James assured him with a smile. “Harry and Lily too.”

“Great, he’d like that.”

“How’s he holding up?” James asked in a low voice, glancing towards the stairs, eyebrows raised behind his glasses.

Sirius mulled the question over for a while as he started to set the table for the four of them, taking a moment before he replied.

“Surprisingly well,” he offered after a while. “He’s got good days and bad days, we both do, but he’s doing okay all things considering.”

“And the whole thing with–“ James waved a hand in front of himself “–with Remus?”

“Don’t get me started,” Sirius sighed with a grimace before taking another swig from the bottle. “Came to pick him up this morning, took him to breakfast…I dunno, he’s just weird.”

James hummed at the stew, “Weird how?”

“I don’t know, just weird,” Sirius said with a shrug, brows pulling together into a scowl. “Just weird. He always was, even at school. Just weird.”

“Harsh Pads,” James admonished, a disapproving curl to his mouth. “You barely said a word to him back then.”

“Yeah, well, maybe because he was a little weirdo,” Sirius muttered, glowering at his drink.

“He was not,” James replied firmly. “You just think he was because you’re angry with him for what he did to Dora.”

Sirius didn’t reply at first, because James was right (of course he was, the wanker). Truth was that he barely remembered Remus from school. He remembered a thin, pale and quiet boy who barely said a word to anyone, who kept to himself and sometimes was gone for days at a time before showing back up with no explanation.

“So what?” he conceded eventually. “D’you think what he did was good?”

“Course I don’t think it was good,” James said patiently, because James Potter was some sort of saint who never lost his temper, which drove Sirius mad at times. “All I’m saying is that you don’t know him, and at least he’s trying, right? He seems to be serious about Teddy.”

“The only one who’s Sirius is me,” he quipped, but he sobered as James threw him a look. “Fuck if I know what he wants but I don’t trust him. What’s to say that he doesn’t take off again, first chance he gets? Or maybe it’s the money. I don’t mean to be crass but Teddy’s well off with his inheritance, not to mention he’ll get my money if something were to happen to me and in case you didn’t know, I’m absolutely minted.”

James snorted, tasting the stew he was making before adding another pinch of salt.

“Maybe he wants to make amends,” suggested James as he filled a separate pot with water. “Maybe he regrets leaving and sees this as a second chance and he’s truly committed to being a part of Teddy’s life.”

“Make amends,” mimicked Sirius with a grimace, finishing his beer before getting a new one for himself and for James. “The fuck does that even mean.”

Sirius could see James suppressing a smile and he just about managed to stop himself from throwing a piece of bread at the other man’s head.

“It means maybe he wants to make things right,” James continued, unperturbed, as he dumped way too much pasta into the boiling water. “Maybe he feels shitty about leaving all those years ago and he figures this is his chance to set things right.”

Sirius watched him, a frown tugging at his brows.

“Doesn’t it ever get tiresome?”

“What?” James asked as he turned around, leaning casually against the counter as he took a swig from his new beer.

“Being such a sanctimonious shit,” Sirius offered, but James merely laughed at him and Sirius knew that his words lacked the bite anyway.

“You should try it sometimes,” James said with a wink. “Go get the kids, dinner’s ready.”

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #the patchwork of us #muggle au #tuesday snippet #james potter #my writing

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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 year

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If it’s not too much to ask/it’s possible, could we see ur wip list?👀

currently just pythia!! i've been busy as hell recently between school + work, so I haven't added to her in ages 😭 forgive me if i've posted this half of my wip before, but here's a lil sneak peak for you!

Dean shoos Sam further down the aisle, and his brother props up the basket like a hoop and starts serpentining between the frozen pizzas, the two of them beaming like rowdy middle school boys. You turn your tub over in your hand and line up your shot. Dean’s taunting and pinching is ultimately fruitless—the victory grin is already comfortable on your face when your ice cream swishes flawlessly into Sam’s basket. Sam whoops.

“Not bad, Slayer,” Dean approves. He gives your shoulder a playful budge, and you budge him right back on the way to the registers.

With your bad mood successfully thawed, you’re easy to distract while Dean sneaks away to (hopefully) pay for your plunder. One minute you’re in line with them, and in the next Sam is coaxing you away to poke around the value movie bin, hypnotizing you with a few well-placed, dimply grins. You forget altogether that ice cream costs money. You’re only just remembering what money is when Dean reappears, shoving a receipt in his pocket and jabbing a thumb toward the bakery.

“Cashier lady said they got spoons over there,” Dean explained.

You paused. “Don’t we have, like, a gazillion in the car?”

“You mean the car with the heater that takes ten years to start?” Dean sassed back, which instantly dissolved into one of his cheesy, goading grins. He started to rifle through the grocery bag for his flavor, half-walking and half-wrestling with it. “We’ll eat in here. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you didn’t worry about it. Dean cracked jokes about adult freedoms and whole sleeves of raw cookie dough, Sam rubbed his belly like just the thought made him nauseous, and you giggled at every little thing they did. You were still laughing when Sam parked you by one of the bakery’s vents, the two of you crowded close to get as much warm bread fog as possible. Dean went over and bartered for three plastic spoons. The whole time he stole glances at you loudly giggling with his brother, and patted himself on the back for his job well done.

Dean wiggled closer to you both to be under the warmth of the vent. Now equipped with a way to get this ice cream into your ice-cream-ready belly, you borrowed Sam’s pocket knife to shred the plastic seperating you from your treasure. There wasn’t really a contactless way to hold the tub between you both. While Dean ravaged his cherry garcia, you and Sam tried, and failed, to preserve your personal space, only to lazily gravitate closer to each other with the first glorious spoonfuls of cookie-dough. The first bite balmed your sore throat and your sensitive burns. It was sweeter than you were expecting for dairy-free ice cream, but the surprise was welcome.

Dean stabbed his spoon into his cherry garcia. Then, he gave you another welcome surprise. He dropped his hand in your hair, smoothing it back, and asked around a mouthful of cherry flavoring, “Good?”

You couldn’t help but beam. “Yeah. I’m good.”

#uncouthspn #uncouth wips #user uncouth #anon asks #pythia

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

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Downtown Detour

ayo its ya boi back with more timari and ignoring my wips cuz im plagued with timari brainrot

written in the same au as:

Rooftop Rendezvous and

Alleyway Altercation (NSFW)

AO3 link to the series

Timari 2.2K words, no warnings other than references to intimate relations

Summary:

“Red Robin makes a breakthrough in his investigation of the new Gotham Rogue and goes to confront her about it.”

without further ado

Tim could not believe this. The new Rogue, Karma—Marinette Dupain-Cheng— had been spotted a total of three times since their last encounter by either his brothers or the cops and none have been able to subdue her for more than fleeting seconds. She was caught breaking into a politician’s house when the man was away on another one of his exotic hunting trips; another artefact was stolen from the museum after that, one they were unable to retrieve; and finally she was last seen escaping from Robin by the mayor’s office, only no one know what was taken from there. All three times she was spotted and nothing to show for it other than bruised egos and missing items.

During his little investigation into her supposed civilian name, he came across a series of interesting police reports from Paris, France of all places. A penchant for grand theft auto since her teenage years as well as a series of vandalism and reports of stolen student records from her high school at the time. There was even a rescinded expulsion, a litany of suspensions and a plethora of unexcused absences. She was a cookie cutter criminal in the making. But for Tim, it didn’t make sense. While all the evidence points to a child delinquent grown into an adult criminal, something about the situation set Tim’s teeth on edge. There was something missing. Something she wanted Tim to find out, if her giving him her name was anything to go by. But what?

She had no local address on file and the last piece of legal information that had any traceable location was a one-way ticket to Shanghai from four years ago. Immediately after her high school graduation. All her social media was deleted around the same time. She had effectively gone off the grid up until her emergence as a part of Gotham less than stellar night life. But why?

A closer look at her time in Paris led him to discover an interesting trend but it wasn’t anything concrete. Starting about when Karma—Marinette— was thirteen, her unexcused absences lined up with some of their infamous akuma attacks. While at first it could be argued that many children had unexcused absences in the beginning, and she had less than perfect attendance even before then, her disappearances also coincided with attacks far from her school which was where she should have been at those times. Then there were reports filed by police who spoke with her parents about her sneaking out at night which also lined up with notable akuma attacks. Either she was an overzealous fan of the city’s temporary heroes, or she was constantly in the thick of the action and kept it a secret from people close to her, letting her reputation suffer for it.

‘Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years,’ she had said. ‘Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,’ she continued. ‘Something you could try emulating.’

Her words echoed in his mind. He never thought much of them before, his mind preoccupied with other things her mouth was doing that night. It could also be chalked up to everyone being the hero of their own story and she had just coloured her own experiences. But just maybe…

Before he could entertain that train of thinking, his phone alarm was alerting him of his scheduled patrol. Hopefully he could catch a hold of his current person of interest and get some more answers. And perhaps get a read on what her intentions are in this city. With him.

~~~~~~~~

The skyline was a welcoming sight as he flung himself from building to building. The wind beneath him carried him across the sky like an actual bird and the thrill of the freefall lit his nerves on fire. His route was quiet but his appearance should coax out a certain thief. Red Hood was investigating a weapons smuggling deal that was set to take place by the Gotham Harbour. Nightwing was back in Bludhaven with Signal, introducing him to nighttime patrol. Robin and Black Bat were tracking a drug deal that was rumoured to disrupt the balance of the Narrows. Spoiler was with Batman doing their regular routes and Batwoman was doing her own thing somewhere. Oracle, as always, was on standby on comms and monitoring everything. This was the perfect opportunity for Karma to strike so Red Robin just had to be patient. The night was young.

An hour into his sweep of the city and Oracle was patching him into a radio call about a break-in in some pawnshop back in the Fashion District. It wasn’t on his route tonight but Oracle figured that with their likely suspect, and his arrangement with her, he was their best shot at apprehending her. If only temporarily.

He arrived at the pawnshop without fanfare and found the storefront window broken into. Further inspection led him face to face with the object of his affection. Karma was posed calmly behind the cashier counter rifling through an assortment of jewelry that was left on display in the glass cases. It was only the faint twitch in her eyebrow that indicated her awareness of his presence. Other than that he went completely ignored. That won’t do. Not tonight. He approached her slowly and stopped on the other side of the counter, leaning into her space. He could faintly smell her rose-scented perfume. Her strawberry shampoo. Even the cherry lip gloss she wears under the mask. He’s tasted it enough times to know how strong it was. For a vision clad in black she was rather fond of red flavours.

“Can I help you, Tweety Bird?” her voice was soft, sprinkled with faux indifference, not wanting to disrupt the background noise of rings and necklaces clanking together. She hasn’t looked at him once.

“Breaking and entering and attempted theft are serious crimes, Karma.” He saw a faint twitch of amusement in her eyebrow but her posture was relaxed and non-assuming.

“That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m here either.” Her eyes sweep up to him as she stops searching the jewelry. She’s staring intently at him as if he’s to understand the meaning behind the words she’s not saying. He does. They’ve played this back and forth before. Danced their little tango of push and pull.

“You wanted to see me then? Thought this was the best way to get my attention, hmm?” He leaned in, pressing his weight more into the counter. She matched his advance and propped her face in the palm of her hand. Her finger tapped on her mask. He figured if the accessory wasn’t there she’d be biting that finger instead.

“Well it worked. Didn’t it? You’re here after plenty of time to conduct a rather thorough investigation into who I am. Or was.” She took off the mask, finally, and he was right. Her lips were shining in the dim light of the night with the familiar hues of her lip gloss. He presses on to not let himself get distracted by the slight smile on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. Paris, born and raised. Above average student in terms of grades but a disciplinary streak about a hundred miles wide.” At this her head tilts in amusement. Her faint nod encourages him to divulge all the aspects of his research. “Absences and tardies more often than any recorded presences. About twelve suspensions in the span of three years and a rescinded expulsion when you were about fourteen. A couple run-ins with the police in regards to charges of theft and property destruction.” Her face scrunched in an adorable pout at that as if it were a reminder of an embarrassing moment and not outlines of criminal offenses.

“Definitely not my finer moments, I assure, but keep going. You’re doing so well,” she interrupted him. She had shifted so that she could jump over the counter and sit atop it, her legs crossed and her arms bearing her weight behind her. Red Robin was temporarily silenced by the arch in her back and the lean lines of her exposed neck. He rose to his full height; just barely reaching her shoulder, due to her new vantage point.

“You disappeared after your high school graduation, my investigation says you ran off to Shanghai but I believe there’s more to it than that.” She had uncrossed her legs to accommodate him between them and drew him closer by his shoulders. Acting on instinct, his arms found purchase on her waist and he was brushing the pad of his gloved thumb across the exposed skin. It was uncharacteristically soft but neither heeded mind to it.

“You think there’s more to me than that?” She leans in, almost breathing the same air as him. “You’d be the first,” she continued while snaking a hand up his neck to scratch lightly at his scalp. The touch sent shivers down his spine and had his toes curling in anticipation.

“So tell me then,” he licked his lips and stared at her through the film of his mask. “What is Paris’s Lady Luck doing here causing mischief in Gotham?” The question was a gamble and could upset the rapport he had with Karma. He was the team’s only lead on her, for better or worse, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was between them.

It was probably the right thing to say though, because she hasn’t left him yet but instead was staring at him with something indescribable in her eyes. Excitement? Approval? Affection? Red Robin wasn’t sure what to make of the glimmer of emotion in her eyes other than to take it as a good sign.

“You got this far in your investigation, Tweety Bird,” she leaned in closer, just a hair’s width away. “Why ruin the chase and tell you everything now?” Her lips were brushing against his as she spoke and the cherry flavour was almost distracting. His tongue peaked out to swipe a stronger taste. The arms around her waist tightened and he pulled her to the edge of the counter, her legs wrapping around him on instinct.

“Surely you could reward me for figuring out this much, right?” His voice was pitched so low if she wasn’t already breathing in his words he would have worried that she didn’t hear him. “After all, it’s not everyday someone discovers the identity of the allusive Ladybug.”

“The bird wants a reward, does he?” She finally sealed his lips with hers, stealing any half-baked retort he might have had. This kiss was different from the multitude they’ve exchanged in their times together, carrying over the unanswered emotions from their last encounter and introducing new ones into the mix. The air felt still and cool on his face and the fingers in his hair tightened even further.

They were like that for what felt like hours but was merely a few minutes; just calmly exchanging kisses, nothing straying beyond that silently defined line. They didn’t need anymore for tonight. Karma had taken to progress this further by trailing her lips to the sharp cut of his jaw. She alternated between small kisses and even smaller bites as she made her way up to his ear. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear and he leaned into the faint contact. A lick and a bite later, her lips were curled up into a smirk as her hand in his hair held him in place.

They stayed like that for moments lost to time. Neither making the next move, nerves buzzing with anticipation. He felt an itch for more that only she could scratch and she was denying him that satisfaction. Despite that he made no inclination to instigate more, letting the ball stay in her court. After more silent minutes he felt rather than heard her chuckle against his ear. She jumped off the counter, pressing every curve of her body against his. Even then, he unconsciously tried to pull her closer, pressing her against his front and the tempered glass of the counter. Before he could do as he pleased with his new leverage, she wiggled out of his grasp and moved towards the broken storefront window, mask in hand.

“It was great to see you tonight,” she throws a glance over her shoulder, readjusting the mask over the lower half of her face. “And I’m glad my assumptions of you were right.”

“What assumptions? What do you mean?” The confusion was almost palpable beneath the traces of cherries. He moved to reach for her, to keep her here for a bit longer. To explain herself. To not leave him. She evaded his grasp and leapt out the broken window. From outside the building she turned to him and aimed what was clearly Red Robin’s grappling hook out to the nearest building.

Instead of answering him she chuckled and tilted her head in amusement at his growing distress.

“See you around, Tim.” Her parting words were lost to the air as she shot off with the grapple into the night. Red Robin stood frozen, rooted in place at the use of his civilian name. How did she know? Who exactly did he decide to get entangled with? Among the cacophony of new questions one thing was for certain.

He was utterly fucked.

#maribat #timari #timinette #ml x dc #this is tame to others in this little mini series #tumblr dont fucking try me #surprisingly NOT hornknee hours #i know i surprised myself with this one too

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crystaltale-official · 2 years

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I posted 216 times in 2021

99 posts created (46%)

117 posts reblogged (54%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.2 posts.

I added 757 tags in 2021

#crystaltale - 159 posts

#art - 94 posts

#undertale au - 86 posts

#undertale - 68 posts

#crystaltale fanart - 68 posts

#grift - 67 posts

#crystaltale grillby - 66 posts

#fanart - 58 posts

#undertale aus - 53 posts

#crystaltale gaster - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 57 characters

#shet should've draw something but my hands are tireeeeddd

My Top Posts in 2021

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83 notes • Posted 2021-03-20 12:01:04 GMT

tumblr_video

“Actual” scenes from Crystaltale Season 3.

These are made for animation test purpose. I said “actual” because yeah it happened but the angle might be different. But let’s say this is a sneak peak <3

I might finish the sketch wip but not now. I’m not used animating in CSP XDD

Also, thank you so much Crimzan for adding background music for it. Like wtf man. Thank you so much aaaaa

Animation by @zahrart17 / @crystaltale-official Music by Crimzan

85 notes • Posted 2021-04-24 12:01:42 GMT

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106 notes • Posted 2021-05-15 12:01:26 GMT

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen for we meet again!”

“I hope you have a delightful day for my dear creator celebrates for the 500+ people who follow our journey. She’s very pleasant to know that you’re interested.”

“Well then, shall we commence!”

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◈ Rules to follow ◈

You must be a follower!

You must like and reblog!

Reblog with a character, gradient color and theme you want!

There will be 3 winners in this raffle! (Artwork example below)

Raffle will end on 12 June 2021 on GMT+7!

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◈ Template Example◈

Character: Grift

Gradient: Red-Orange

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176 notes • Posted 2021-05-19 00:56:03 GMT

“Welcome ladies and gentleman!”

“I’m Grift. The host for this little anniversary of ours. Please, make yourself at home!”

“Now, our dear little creator @zahrart17 wants to celebrate our world anniversary! Despite her being busy and animating the next episode, she still determined to do so. Now, I’ll be hosting a little raffle for you all who have supported her and us throughout the years! I deeply appreciate your support from the bottom of my gratitude! Now, for not wasting time any longer let’s see what’s our dear creator has to offer!”

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213 notes • Posted 2021-02-24 12:00:59 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #My highest notes are raffles DSGFSDGS #I need to put more work tbh #Stop being lazy hands

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drunkkenobi · 4 years

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Fanfic Author Tag Game

Tagged by: @ebonybow and @ex0rin! <3333

Tagging: I’m no good at tagging, but feel free to do this if your heart so pleases!

Ao3 name: drunkkenobi

Fandoms: BFU/Watcher almost exclusively as far as writing goes these days. I have 2 finished Star Wars fics and 1 Mass Effect one posted (and lots more that will probably languish forever in word docs)

Number of fics: 14

1. Fic you spent the most time on: You Can’t Hide From Me my 30k Obi-Wan/Satine fic. I spent over a year on that and rewrote so many parts of it so many times, all on my own. But whenever I finish my current WIP, it will beat it for longest writing period.

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Indiana Bergara and the Lost Shirt Buttons 1.8k pwp written by the infamous Indiana Bergara outfit over the course of a day. Needless to say, I was very inspired.

3. Longest fic: The Worst Demon Ever 67k demon!Shane fic that is still the thing I’m most proud of. There are some stylistic things I would change about this fic, but I’m still really happy with how it all came together, especially with how long it is.

4. Shortest fic: Indiana Bergara fic, again

5. Most hits: The Worst Demon Ever - 12,175. I never look at hits. Dang.

6. Most kudos: The Worst Demon Ever - 908. Runner-up: So He Won’t Break with 857.

7. Most comment threads: The Worst Demon Ever - 164. Wow I really peaked with that one, huh

8. Fave fic you wrote: secrets I have held in my heart are hider to hide than I thought (12k, Shane’s first time with a guy) I don’t know if it’s my all-time favorite, but I’m really happy with how this one came out. I tried to write something a little different than I usually do and it was a bear (I literally rewrote the last half 3 different times, all the way to a different ending), but with my lovely beta Bee’s help, I got it to a place I was finally happy with so I’m feeling pretty fond of this one lately.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: lol most of them! I’ve thought about writing sequels to The Worst Demon Ever (about their more human wedding), Where the Ghoul Boys and the Jackalopes Play (more cute jackalope shenanigans), and I’m always open to writing more of my Shane (and Ryan) Versus the Internet series if one of them gets Mad online again. As far as rewriting goes, there are lots of things I would change about most of my fics. I’m my own worst critic so I always go through a period where I think one fic or another is the worst thing ever written down. I think the one I want to futz with the most is So He Won’t Break. I would’ve drawn out their fight a bit longer and there are some dialogue changes I would make to their big confessions of ~feelings scene.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: do you wanna be on top?

Shane ducked his head down and pressed his mouth softly to Ryan’s. They held the pose as the photographer and Jay shouted suggestions at them.

“Okay, good, good. Ryan, move your hand down so you’re not covering up Shane’s face. And scoot in closer, this is supposed to be your wedding kiss!” Ryan did as instructed, his hand sliding down and back to hold onto the back of Shane’s neck. He also pressed in closer, accidentally stepping on one of Shane’s feet. He opened his mouth to apologize but Shane must not have noticed because he took that opportunity to sneak his tongue into Ryan’s mouth. It felt so nice, so welcome, and it was enough to make Ryan forget about the photoshoot. He nipped lightly at Shane’s bottom lip as his fingers curled themselves around some of Shane’s hair at the back of his neck. Shane held Ryan tighter, kissing him harder. Ryan couldn’t let this end. The minute it would, he’d have to go back to pretending he didn’t want more. He wasn’t that good of an actor, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Hey! Lovebirds, we got the shot!” Jay yelled at them. Shane began to pull back but Ryan didn’t let go, he couldn’t. This couldn’t be it. His fingers tightened around Shane’s hair, desperate to hold him close. Not yet, not yet…

“Ow!”

Ryan felt Shane step away from him, his hands dropping from Ryan’s waist. But how was he still gripping onto Shane’s hair? Ryan opened his eyes and discovered the awful truth.

The reason Ryan was still holding onto Shane’s hair was that he had ripped it out of Shane’s head.

#my fic #shyan #ty friends for tagging me!!

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sinfulwonders · 4 years

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I think prompt #82 would be cool! Anyway you’d want to take it. Maybe pregame where they both are at a party? Honestly I love your writing and I think you could do something cool with it! Fluff/Angst/NSFW whatever you’d like! Preferably a happy ending of some sort of possible! Thanks for the consideration!

Wow. I am so so SO sorry this took so ridiculously long to write. I hope you enjoy it anon. I had most of it written a while ago, but doing the WIP challenge I found it and decided to finish it! Again, so sorry it took forever. It’s ingame, not pregame, so I hope that’s okay!

The Party

Words: 4613

Prompt: 82. “You’re really drunk right now. I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this.” “I’m not drunk at all. You’re just blurry.”

Summary: Shuichi goes to a party! Drunk shenanigans ensue!

“So, Saihara-kun, did you decide whether you are coming to my party tonight?” Shuichi jumped at the sudden presence of a young girl standing in front of his desk.

“A-akamastu-san,” Stuttered the startled detective, as Kaede leaned in inquisitively. “Umm, yes, I’ll be there.”

The ultimate pianist pumped a fist in the air in triumph. She turned around towards the other side of the classroom and shouted to a group of students talking and laughing amongst themselves.

“Saihara-kun said he’ll come tonight!”

“That’s what I like to hear from my sidekick!” responded Kaito, who proceeded to flash a smile and his signature thumbs up. Maki gave a curt nod of approval from next to him.

The rest of the students congregated near Kaito and Maki gave similar nods and words of praise followed by a few cheers of approval.

Shuichi blushed, “Me being there w-won’t make much of a difference on the party. I-it’s really not a big deal.” He felt himself hiding his face in the cap that rested loosely on his head.

Kaede could tell he was growing anxious from being the center of attention. She took his hand in her own and pulled him out of his chair.

She gave him a warm smile as he rose, and he slowly responded with a small, nervous grin.

“We’re all just thrilled that you’ve decided to hang out with us outside of school! There are no expectations of you at this party, we just want to hang out with you, Saihara-kun!”

Shuichi breathed a small sigh of relief as he felt his body relax just a bit. While attending Hope’s Peak High school for the past few months, he had managed to grow close with several of the students. He considered that an incredibly impressive feat, as he was terribly intimidated by his fellow Ultimates. After all, he never thought he deserved to be at the school, as his first case was a mistake that haunted Shuichi constantly. This inferiority complex accompanied with his social anxiety (especially in group settings), made hanging out with his classmates outside of school a fear-inducing scenario.

After a few words of encouragement from Kaito, the group began to go back to their previous conversation. Kaede nudged Shuichi and spoke quietly where only he could hear, “I’m so proud of you for going to this, and hopefully you’ll have a wonderful time! I know you’re nervous, but thank you for facing that fear for our sakes!”

Shuichi cringed at her sweet smile.

I wish my intentions were that pure.

Shuichi was not going to this party for Kaede. He was not going to this party for Kaito or Maki or any of his supportive friends. He was going strictly to investigate. There was a thorn at his side, an unexplainable enigma of a person that perplexed him. It was equally bothersome and intriguing, and when Shuichi caught wind that he would be attending Kaede’s party he had made up his mind to overcome his anxiety for a night and go to learn more.

This party isn’t a social event for me Kaede, I’m sorry. I just need to figure him out. I need to know his motives and what he’s thinking…Ko-

“Saihara-chan ̴!”

Speak of the devil.

Kokichi Oma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader, also known as a consistent source of Shuichi’s distress, skipped into the classroom, a childlike smile adorning his pale face as he made his way to the detective. The green haired Rantaro Amami followed behind, sighing like an unenthusiastic babysitter.

“Oma-kun…I t-told you, that name’s too girly for me…” Shuichi sighed, knowing that insisting that Kokichi use proper honorifics for the umpteenth was useless.

“Well kun is way too harsh to describe a pretty boy like you!” Kokichi spoke in a sing-song tone, but his face held a mischievous smirk.

Shuichi blushed involuntarily and Kokichi’s eyes lit up.

“Is my beloved Saihara-chan falling for me?” After the words left his mouth he suddenly got closer and his eyes face darkened as he whispered, “What happens if the detective falls for the supreme leader of evil?”

“O-oma-”

“Nyeheehee!” His face was back to his regular devious smile, and he leaned back from the detective, hands resting behind his head, “As much fun as it is to torture you, I actually came because Rantaro told me that you were coming to the piano nerd’s party tonight!”

Rantaro shrugged as Shuichi looked at him. The green haired boy had an unnatural talent for being the first to know anything. He always had the most popular music, clothes, and anything else that was trendy months before it became mainstream.

Maybe Rantaro should have been known as the Ultimate Hipster instead of the Ultimate Adventurer… But wait, he wasn’t even here for that conversation! How did he-

Rantaro, seeing Shuichi’s confused expression, lazily nodded in the direction of a tall boy sitting in the back of the classroom, “Shinguji texted me.”

“Oh okay…” Shuichi responded, not knowing that the two were even friends. He turned back to Kokichi, “Yeah, I’m going to the party.”

Kokichi’s face lit up, “That’s great! I’m so happy I won’t even poison your drink like I was planning! I’ll still poison Miu’s though, since I heard that doing random acts of kindness helps build a stronger community! I mean freeing everyone from a long-term headache is pretty kind, don’t you think?”

“Shut up, Cock-kichi!” screamed the abrasive inventor, running over to the boy at the sound of her name.

The two started flinging vulgar insults at each other and Shuichi decided that that was a good enough distraction to sneak away from the situation. As the detective took step out the classroom door, he glanced back at the two fighting. He locked eyes with Kokichi. The boy grinned that conniving grin as he mouthed:

“See you tonight.”

Shuichi rushed out of the room, irritated with Kokichi’s deliberate flirting just to take him off guard. He had a purely professional interest in Kokichi Oma. As a detective it was his duty to find out if any of his claims about running a massive evil organization and committing crimes were true. He didn’t think so, but he needed to figure out how to tell if Kokichi was lying. He wasn’t obsessing over a classmate.

I have a moral obligation.

He told himself that as he had watched the supreme leader during class the entirety of last week. Shuichi sat behind him, so it was natural for him to look that direction. He had watched how he interacted with different people, physical reactions, and facial features, but hadn’t come to any clear conclusion on the boy having a ‘tell’. He wished he had more opportunities to stare into Kokichi’s large violet eyes, not because he thought they were mesmerizing, but to get a read on the boy of course. It also didn’t help that Shuichi had no baseline. Since Kokichi lied about everything, there were no clear truths or lies to base a pattern from. Kokichi was truly a mystery for Shuichi to solve. A mystery Shuichi needed to solve.

A mystery wrapped in white cotton and soft purple hair, smelling slightly of lavender.

And so it was in his unquestionably professional interest that he attended the party that night.

--------------

He arrived at the venue an hour after the party began, as he had read somewhere that that’s the cool thing to do. Rantaro opened the door, holding a red solo cup in hand and smiling wider than Shuichi had ever seen him before.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” he swayed, definitely tipsy.

Although Kaede was throwing the party, Rantaro had offered his off campus flat (special permission was given to him by the school to stay there instead of the dorms) as a venue for the party. It seems that one of the benefits was that the students could drink freely without worry of getting caught drinking on campus.

“Come on in, make yourself at home! Drinks are over in the kitchen!” Rantaro sauntered off, zigzagging through the many people contained in the modestly sized flat.

So. Many. People.

There were more people than just Shuichi’s classmates. It seemed as the entirety of Hope’s Peak was crammed into the two bedroom apartment. The music blared and a blur of unrecognizable faces practically swallowed the detective. He inhaled sharply.

You can do this.

He nervously stepped into the mass of people, following the flow of steps and desperately looking for any friendly faces. His panicked anxiety causing him to forget his true motive for being here almost immediately. He ended up in the kitchen, the sound of Kaito’s loud voice drew him like a magnet.

“Damn it, how’d you win again?” Kaito yelled, an exasperated Maki lightly holding him back from flipping over the beer pong table.

The fluffy haired blonde at the other end of the table smiled kindly at the shouting astronaut, “I’m sure you’ll beat me next game! I’m worthless, nothing compared to an actual ultimate such as yourself!” the boy’s eyes got wider and more wild and Shuichi took a step back instinctively, “My luck is bound to run out soon, so when it does please use me as a stepping stone to bring hope to every beer pong enthusiast in the universe!!!!!” He cackled.

“Komaeda, you need to chill with giving that hope speech to everyone we meet… you’re really hurting our friend retention rate,” a brunette male mused next to the still manically laughing blonde. He took the boy’s hand and said quieter, “Also… you’re not worthless.”

Little did the brunette know, that Kaito was too competitive to back down from a challenge, even one from a self-deprecating hope-enthusiast.

“Oh it’s on! Maki Roll, you ready to play one more round and beat this punk?” Maki sighed in anguish and glanced up, locking eyes with Shuichi.

“Saihara!” she said uncharacteristically enthusiastically, “You just got here right?”

“Hey guys, yeah I just got here,” Shuichi walked up to the pair.

“Perfect. Kaito, meet your new partner.”

“Eh? But-” Shuichi was instantly silenced by the intense glare Maki shot him. She quickly pushed the two closer and dashed off, avoiding various people and obstacles with reflexes faster than what should be capable of the ultimate child caregiver.

“Haha! I guess Maki Roll got sick of me!” Kaito chuckled, “I guess we have been playing for a while now... but this kid is just so annoyingly lucky… That’ll change soon if I keep playing!”

I need to remind myself to never take Kaito gambling.

It turns out that Kaito and Maki had been playing beer pong since the party began.

No wonder she got out of there. I guess I’m stuck now, but this is way better than standing around not knowing what to do with my body.

Nagito threw the first ball, and it plopped softly into a cup.

“Newbies take the first drink!” Kaito cheered, patting his sidekick on the back. Shuichi sighed and took a drink of the amber liquid. The cheap beer went down his throat with only a mildly repulsive aftertaste.

And, as an added bonus: For the first time since he arrived, Shuichi was able to loosen up a bit.

And he continued to loosen as the boys began their devastating losing streak to Nagito Komaeda and Hajime Hinata.

“Prretty ssure we almosst had em that time,” Kaito slurred as he swayed at the end of the table, obviously drunk from spending two hours losing badly at beer pong and, as a consequence, drinking a lot of beer. Shuichi, having started much later, was not wasted but was still very tipsy.

“Kaito- Kaito I think we gotta be done. You’re too…you’re too drunk.” The detective stumbled over his words, struggling to sound as sober and authoritative as possible. The wasted Kaito agreed eventually, stumbling over to the couch when he saw that Maki was over there. Shuichi smiled and rolled his eyes at his friend’s predictable nature.

He watched him sit and talk with Maki and sighed in relief at being released from mom mode. He wandered around in the flat, no longer anxiety ridden. Shuichi felt confident, and also fuzzy, like everything was a little out of focus.

But mostly confident.

Shuichi suddenly noticed a black and white checkered scarf in the distance, a flash of purple entering what seemed to be Rantaro’s bedroom. Shuichi followed the boy in as much of a straight line as he could, to discover what he was doing. He peeked in to see Kokichi in the dimly lit room sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone, and very much alone. Kokichi quickly looked up and caught the not-so-sneaky-especially-while-drunk Shuichi staring at him in the doorway.

“I-I umm, hi Oma-kun.” Shuichi said, disappointed that he’d been discovered so easily.

“Saihara-chan, hi. Come to escape the noise, too?” His demeanor seemed different than at school as he sat up on the bed. Calm and quiet. But as his Shuichi entered the bedroom, his mask quickly reappeared, “Or did you come to be alone with me?” He crooned.

Shuichi rolled his eyes at the boy’s usual aggressive flirting to make him uncomfortable trick and plopped down on the mattress next to the supreme leader. Kokichi raised an eyebrow in interest.

“You’re a weird guy, Oma.” Shuichi stated, no malice in his voice, “I can’t figure you out.”

Kokichi laughed, “You just figured out that I’m unsolvable? Man, maybe you’re not the ultimate detective after all!”

“I wouldn’t say unsolvable. It’s certainly a pain though,” Shuichi sighed and fell backwards, letting his head hit the sheets.

“Then why do you keep trying?” Kokichi asked, head tilted like a puppy.

Shuichi stared at Kokichi for a second and laughed out loud. Kokichi looked taken off guard for once.

“You know, that’s a really great question,” Shuichi smiled up at the boy looking over him, “I keep avoiding that question myself, so I don’t think I could give you a good answer.”

Kokichi laid back on his back beside the detective, meeting his gaze.

“Ya know, most people are boring. They’re predictable and easy to figure out. I’m glad I don’t bore you, Saihara-chan.”

This time, hearing Kokichi call him Saihara-chan didn’t seem to bother Shuichi. Kokichi said it like it was an endearing nickname.

Kokichi continued, speaking quieter, “And you know… you’re not boring either. To me I mean.”

As weird as it was, it seemed that Kokichi had given the detective an honest compliment. It didn’t seem backhanded or sarcastic, unless Kokichi was a much better liar than Shuichi had previously suspected.

The detective couldn’t help but blush a little.

The two boys laid there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but soon enough Kokichi jumped to his feet, his mischievous smile once again plastered on his face.

“We better hurry back, or we’ll look pretty suspicious! Alone in a bedroom like this! What will your dear Kaito say?”

Shuichi rolled his eyes and stood to his feet, instantly remembering that he had a lot to drink as the room shook slightly, “Yeah let’s go.”

The two boys exited the room to find the flat much emptier than a few minutes prior.

“How long were we in there?” Shuichi wondered out loud.

Shuichi and Kokichi made their way to the kitchen, and after being forced into taking shots with a drunk Kaede and Rantaro, the two told them that after learning that Rantaro’s apartment complex had a volleyball court, a large chunk of drunk students had gone to play a game.

“Well, I say game, but Akane Owari, from the other class, is ready for war,” Rantaro sighed, “She challenged Nidai to a volleyball showdown and things may have gotten a little out of hand when someone suggested it be boys vs girls. Needless to say, Chabashira is out for blood…”

Shuichi winced when he heard that. Tenko was ready for any chance to bring the population of degenerate males down a peg or two.

“Well what’s the plan now Amami-kun?” Kaede asked, a little disappointed that so many people had left her party at once.

“Well there’s still a bunch of people around,” Rantaro noted as he looked at the no longer packed apartment, “So we could always play a group game.”

“Like truth or dare or something?” Kaede asked, eyes lighting up.

“Ugh, truth or dare sucks,” Kokichi groaned, “half the game is so boringgggg. Why don’t we play dare or drink?”

“Dare or drink?” Shuichi lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah! My organization created it to get rid of the worst part of truth or dare: the truth! Of course we used play a slightly different version… ‘Dare or Die’…but we had to switch it up because we were losing too many people!”

The three others sighed at Kokichi’s outrageous lies. At least Shuichi was pretty sure it was a lie. But the group agreed and Kaede gathered a group of people together. Shuichi happily accepted Rantaro’s offer of another shot. He let out a hiccup and a small giggle as he poured a drink for the game, which caused Kokichi to scan his narrowed eyes over the boy.

“Are you good, Saihara-chan?”

Shuichi saw what he surmised to be genuine concern on the boy’s face.

This is my chance to get back at him!

“Aww, are you worried about me…Oma-chan?” Shuichi mimicked Kokichi’s usual sing-song tone, and even copied his use of chan. He stuck his tongue out at the boy when he didn’t receive a reply, and he sauntered off towards the gathering group of teens. He smiled to himself that he had been the one to catch Kokichi off guard for once. He didn’t know that the supreme leader had stayed back to hide his red face from him and the others.

-----------

Soon, the students that hadn’t gone to play or watch the volleyball war taking place outside were gathered in a circle to play ‘Dare or Drink’.

“I am so thrilled to experience a classic game from your culture! I am ready to absorb as much information as I can about this ‘Dare or Drink’ for the people of Novoselic!” shouted a very excited Sonia Nevermind.

“Umm…Miss Sonia…it’s not actually a classic game, Oma-kun made it u-” Kazuichi Soda attempted to correct the princess but was interrupted by a still very drunk Kaito.

“Soda! I dare you to write out an embarrassingly sexy text and send it to a random contact in your phone.”

And so the group began their game of dare or drink.

--------------

Shuichi could barely remember why he had ever been nervous to hang out with his classmates outside of school.

With alcohol involved this is easy!

“Saihara,” Rantaro purred, “I dare you to kiss a guy in this room.”

Never mind. This is awful.

“H-huh? W-who?” Shuichi stuttered as he glanced around the room.

Rantaro hummed at the question, then a sly smile overtook his face, “Pick the guy you think is the cutest…”

Shuichi focused his mind a bit, and thought.

Do I find any of my classmates cute? I mean Momota is an attractive guy, but I just think that in a best friend kinda way, plus he’s really not my type. Amami is attractive, but I don’t think he’s anything compared to Oma, I mean his cute face and those eyes… Wait a second…

Do I like Oma?

He looked over at the boy, who was now giving him a sultry stare and licking his lips.

“I choose drink!” Shuichi blurted out, his face now beet red.

“Aww even drunk Saihara-chan is a prude! How predictable!” Kokichi laughed as Shuichi chugged the rest of his mixed drink.

He couldn’t help but be more than a little hurt by the words of his newly realized crush. Even if said crush didn’t realize his new status.

I mean I came to this party for him, after all. Even if he doesn’t know it. That’s pretty rude.

Because it was true. Although Shuichi’s intentions had been ‘purely professional’, he had indeed come to this party to get to know the supreme leader. And now here he was being accosted by the one and only. That pissed drunk Shuichi off.

“Oh yeah? Well let’s see how you do with the same dare,” Shuichi tried to glare as menacingly as possible at the boy sitting across from him, which only was effective at making Kokichi laugh harder, “I dare you to kiss the cutest boy in the room.”

“Is repeating dares even allowed?” muttered a monotone Maki, but Rantaro shushed her quickly.

“My house, my rules. And I say yes,” He smirked.

“Aww but I can’t kiss myself Saihara-chan! So I guess I can’t do your dare! So sad!” Kokichi gave the detective a dramatic sigh and a pout.

Shuichi didn’t back down, “You can’t count yourself, Oma-kun.”

“Psh. As long as you agree that I’m the cutest one,” Kokichi sang as he stood up and sauntered around the room, lingering on each and every guy sitting around the circle. While inspecting them he announced, “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna wimp out like Saihara-chan! I take this dare very seriously!”

Shuichi rolled his eyes as he popped open a beer that was sitting nearby.

“Eenie meenie miney-” Kokichi lilted nonchalantly as he made his way around the circle. He stopped in front of Shuichi and grinned, “Mo.”

“Eh?”

“We gotta get rid of this emo hat!” Kokichi plopped in front of the detective and quickly removed the hat placed on his head, much to the other’s dismay, “Yep I was right! Saihara-chan really is the prettiest boy here!”

“Wh-what?!” Shuichi stammered. He saw Rantaro chuckling in the background while Maki and Kaito watched the two with abject horror.

“Wwwwhat, you didn’t know you were cute? Were you born in that hat or something? Have you never seen your eyes?” As he bombarded the detective with questions he leaned in closer to the detective’s ears and whispered, “If you really don’t want me to kiss you, just say so. I won’t.”

Shuichi thought about it for a moment and then quickly shook his head, “N-no. It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Kokichi smirked at the answer, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He dove onto Shuichi, effectively knocking him onto his back and slammed his lips onto the detective’s. It was a powerful kiss, and at the impact of the ground behind him and Kokichi’s lips on his own, Shuichi let out a gasp. This proved to be the perfect moment for Kokichi to quickly push his tongue into the other’s mouth. Their tongues danced around one another in a strange tangled tango; it was saliva heavy and warm, but decidedly not unpleasant in the slightest.

Shuichi wasn’t sure when he had wrapped his arms around Kokichi, but he had, pulling the smaller closer to him, needing to feel his body heat near his. The smaller had his arms around his neck, his fingers instinctually kneading and caressing the nape. This, along with the feeling of tongues twisting and swirling against one another in his mouth, caused Shuichi to let out an embarrassing moan.

With that Kokichi immediately pulled off of him, untangling his arms and quickly throwing them behind his head. He smirked, “And that, ladies and gentleman: is how it’s done.”

Rantaro, Soda, Sonia, and several others whooped and clapped for the boy. Oma proceeded to bow dramatically as a red-faced and still panting Shuichi finally managed to sit up.

Well that really didn’t go how I intended it to go… but…damn.

Shuichi stared at the supreme leader, now laughing and daring Kaede to do something embarrassing. He wasn’t listening, his eyes just focusing on Kokichi’s lips.

Those lips just…kissed me…

Shuichi quickly inhaled the rest of his beer as a distraction.

--------------

Rantaro let out a yawn and quietly said, “I think the game is over.”

It really was. The game of Dare and Drink had quickly devolved into a sort of spin the bottle type game, where all the dares now had to do with kissing someone. Shuichi was thankful that he had not been forced to kiss anyone else besides the one time with Kokichi. He didn’t want the flavor of grape chapstick to fade.

As the group dispersed, Shuichi stood and instantly regretted it. The room spun around him and he had trouble balancing. A hangover was inevitable in his near future.

“Ah, Rantaro. Can I crash here?” Shuichi asked wearily, and the green-haired boy smiled cooly in return and said of course.

At least now I don’t have to worry about getting home.

Shuichi thought that while finishing off his umpteenth beer. That’s when he noticed Kokichi alone on the couch. He wandered over, in as straight of a line as he could, and plopped down next to the boy. Kokichi glanced up and grinned, “Just couldn’t get enough of me Saihara-chan?”

“Hmm. Maybe I just felt bad for you,” Shuichi hummed, “You’re sitting all by yourself.”

Kokichi stuck out his tongue and Shuichi couldn’t help but eye it a bit hungrily, “Or maybe you were just desperate for another kiss! Well that’s just too bad, Saihara-chan. You shouldn’t have wimped out on your dare! You could have gotten a second kiss with moi!”

Shuichi frowned, “You seem awfully convinced that I would have chosen you for my dare.”

Kokichi feigned shock, placing his hand over his heart like an overdramatic actor, “Are you saying you wouldn’t pick me?! I’m hurt! Wounded even!” His expression instantly changed to boredom, “But that’s a lie, of course.”

“Which part?”

“Who knows?” Kokichi giggled, “Does it even matter?”

Shuichi decided that this was his chance to catch Oma off guard. He smirked and leaned in, whispering in Kokichi’s ear much like he had done right before he kissed him, “It does matter. And for the record, I would have chosen you, Oma-chan.”

The usually unflappable Kokichi Oma paled and then quickly turned several shades of red. Shuichi took this as his chance and placed a quick peck on Kokichi’s lips, “There. That’s for my dare.”

Kokichi, still red faced but desperately trying to reassemble his mask, chuckled, “You’re really drunk right now. I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this.”

Shuichi chuckled back, and dragged his finger lightly along Kokichi’s jawline, “I’m not drunk at all. You’re just blurry.”

“You really let loose tonight, Saihara-chan,” Kokichi mused as the two got closer and closer, as if being pulled together by some magnetic force.

As they neared Shuichi pulled Kokichi into another passionate kiss, not really caring if anyone else saw. Kokichi quickly broke it and looked at Shuichi, eyes wide.

“How are you planning on getting home tonight?” There was no ill-intent in the words, but rather just genuine concern, an emotion very rarely seen from Kokichi.

“Amami-kun is letting me stay the night.”

Kokichi laughed out loud at that, then muttered, “That meddling bastard.” Shuichi cocked an eyebrow and Kokichi sighed and continued, “Rantaro. There’s only two beds. One for him and one for me. Or at least that’s what he told me yesterday. How convenient that he’s suddenly ‘selflessly’ offered for you to stay!”

Shuichi shook his head, “I don’t know about that, I mean I asked… Also I can always sleep on the couch-”

Kokichi scoffed at the very idea, “No way. No way is Saihara-chan lowering himself to sleep on some dirty old couch. Eww. Nope, it’s decided!” Kokichi looped his arm through Shuichi’s own and dragged the wobbly boy to the guest bedroom, “You’re staying with me tonight!”

“I suppose I can live with that.”

#oumasai #requests #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #omasai #saiouma #saioma #danganronpa

38 notes · View notes

alexandralyman · 5 years

Note

Any chance of a WIP update for Valentine’s Day? Or more sneak peaks? I just miss your stories.

Now, obviously this ask came in over a month ago and I was going to post a sneak peek for you at the time, Anon, but then it got me inspired to start writing something set during Valentine’s Day for BH&H, since I’ve written a bunch of extra scenes set during holidays like Christmas and Easter, but hadn’t tackled that one yet. 4,300 words later, it turned into a somewhat longer scene than I was planning and it’s now the next holiday and Valentine’s Day is long over, but I don’t have a St. Patrick’s Day fic so I’m posting this anyway.

Ordinary Time (Between Heaven & Hell)

Read also on AO3 here and on FF.net here

Summary: Demons don’t celebrate the feast days of saints, but on the day dedicated to lovers Killian Jones is willing to make an exception. As long as that exception takes the form of Emma Swan, that is. Will his angel answer his prayer on a cool February eve in Venice, Italy?

Rating: M

….

No one did revelry quite like Venice.

Old-fashioned lanterns turned the famous canals to rivers of gold, music filled the piazzas from dusk til dawn and the citizenry moved with ease from formal, black tie balls in ancient family piles to after parties held in underground clubs where the dress code was definitely less is more. High fashion models rubbed stylish elbows with counts, new money flirting with old nobility, tourists came from far and wide as they had since time immemorial to gape at the splendour and over every graceful stone bridge and behind every famous church a dark alley beckoned, where purse snatchers slipped away with their ill-gotten gains and prostitutes of both genders fell to their knees to offer their own form of worship, for a price.

Venice dazzled all the senses, but there was a dark underbelly hidden in the floating city build around the stolen relics of one of the holiest of saints, sin and salvation linked as two sides of the same coin.

Killian flipped a gold piece over his knuckles with a dexterity no mortal could hope to achieve and into a medieval fountain. It was a round pool topped with a statue of an angel rising from a platform in the centre, stone wings unfurled against the late afternoon sun and one hand outstretched over the water, the delicate, carved fingers just out of reach to anyone standing below. The coin was a scudi that was as old as the fountain itself,from the days long ago when the doges ruled over Venice as kings in all but name. It was rare and valuable, a collector’s dream (that some would even literally sell their souls to obtain) but he let it fall into the water without a second thought with a flash as it caught the light and reflected it back for a heartbeat before sinking down to disappear into the pile of more humble copper pennies at the bottom. He slipped his hands back in his pockets and glanced up at the angel, a wish wasn’t all that different from a prayer after all and the blank-faced statue must have heard innumerable requests over the centuries from the many who passed through the city and stopped to make an offering at her marble feet.

Would his angel hear him, and finally grant what he wanted above all else? Only time would tell, and he had even more of that to spare than he had gold coins.

He strolled the narrow streets for a while, alone with his memories of the old days while the city teemed around him, packed even more to the gills than usual. It was a day dedicated to lovers, and as the sun set and the stars rose above doey-eyed couples giggled in arched doorways and held hands over bottles of wine, making eyes and making love (not in public, at least not mostly, those dark alleys were playing host to more than just paid trysts tonight) although, strangely enough, the lust he could feel hot in the air was tempered with something else, something that his demonic senses instinctively shied away from and made him want to retreat back into the shadows until it was safely gone again. Still, he meandered on, past stalls selling trinkets like carnival masks and blown glass ornaments that had stayed open late to take advantage of the festivities (avarice, he approved of that), pausing here and there to examine the wares and plucking a single red rose from a bouquet dangling from the hand of a young woman with her arms around her paramour’s neck and her eyes closed into his kiss. Neither one noticed the tiny theft, too wrapped up in each other to see the danger that lurked so close. Killian could have used his unholy influence to spark a sudden argument, insert some disharmony into the romantic tableaux as he was meant to, bound to, stoking the flames of jealousy by turning the man’s head towards a winsome young signora instead of his beloved or greed in the desire for a much more lavish gift than mere flowers, but he stayed his hand and continued on a path only he could see, following his own map through the ancient city of mariners like the pirate he had been, once upon a time.

At the end there was a treasure much more valuable than gold, a light amidst the darkness, one that had always enticed instead of repelled. Rose in hand, Killian waited patiently in a small piazza ringed with packed trattorias and bustling wine bars. Venice’s climate was fairly mild in the winter, but his unusually warm breath turned immediately to fog as soon as it hit the cooler air, forming a cloud of twisted serpents that writhed and slithered away into nothingness with each measured exhale. As he bided his time his attention focused on a pair of young men on the other side of the square who were chain-smoking cigarettes and cat-calling every woman who walked by, clearly full of both too much machismo and too much liquor. He watched the flecks of burning ash fall to the ground with each careless flick of their wrists, the glowing tips turning the crimson of infernal fire as they took deep drags and filled their lungs with thick, noxious smoke. Their voices got louder and more lewd as his influence washed over them, drawing a demon’s attention was never a good thing and Killian’s lips split in a rictus grin of amusement while he fanned the flames a little higher, a little hotter. They were unaware of his presence, but it loosened what little inhibitions they had left as his corruption spread like the smoke and filled the spaces between every dark impulse, every forbidden desire, letting them run riot until nothing else was left.

A distinctively feminine figure appeared in the misty haze and started across the piazza, the heels of her boots making no sound on the cobblestones but drawing every eye nonetheless in an instant and Killian could feel the sinful anticipation rolling off the two men in waves at the sight of her. Long blonde hair fell down the back of a leather jacket the bright red of heart’s blood and it was like waving a matador’s scarlet cape in front of a bull to the two idiots who were about to discover the sword hidden underneath instead. If Killian’s attention was dangerous, hers was even more perilous for mortal souls, especially ones puffed up like peacocks on their own arrogance. He idly twirled the rose back and forth between his fingers and drew his thumb across the velvety petals, his own anticipation for what was to come a pleasant hum under his skin.

“Did you miss me?”

Emma accepted the gift he offered with an innocent smile and a hint of a bow, his manners impeccable and beyond reproach while her own expression was caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. The two cat-callers were still there, but the busy piazza was considerably more quiet now than an angel had descended from the heavens and rendered them both completely mute with nothing more than a look. They were literally struck dumb, opening and closing their mouths with nothing coming out while passersby stared at them curiously, unaware of the role the damned and the divine had played in the little bit of street theatre and that Heaven and Hell both were present only a few feet away in the form of a dark-haired man and a blonde woman, the lone raven and the graceful dove.

But then again, mortals were usually blind to what went on right under their own noses.

“Ciao, Killian,” she said with a roll of her eyes, sidestepping his question but he didn’t really care, his name on her lips was a summons that fanned the flames within and made him burn even hotter under his own black leather jacket. Steam rose from the ground from the heat he was generating, Venice was eternally sinking into the sea and the ground was perpetually damp as a result. He was unable to resist a direct summoning and when she turned he followed, away from the lights and the laughter and into a quieter, residential section of the city where the music faded away and the shadows cut deep. Red leather met rough stone when he backed her into a wall, his taller form easily concealing them from any prying eyes, the raven enfolding the dove and pinning her fast.

“Beata angela,” he breathed hot into the shell of her ear, fingers teasing just under the edge of the leather at her waist. “Did you miss me?”

Her own small hands toyed with his belt buckle for a moment before dipping lower and his eyes slammed shut at the feel of her palm sliding over where he burned the most.

Or second most, but he refused to acknowledge the dull ache in the left side of his chest.

Emma gave a little squeeze that almost made his knees give out and teased right back. “It feels more like you’re the one who missed me, Damnate.”

“Angels aren’t supposed to play dirty,” he muttered, unable to stop the desperate rock of his hips into her welcoming touch.

“And demons aren’t supposed to celebrate the feast days of saints, even if everyone else has forgotten what this day originally was,” she shot back. “You’re not the only one who breaks the rules.”

Killian lifted his head and matched her wry smile. “Point taken.”

He had broken more rules than he could count because of her, what was one more? Their foreheads touched and they just stood like that for a moment, the saint and the sinner, angel and demon, come together in a city barely tethered to the earth and caught eternally between falling below and rising above with each roll of the tides.

…

The small pensione where she had a room for the night had one been a convent, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the demon next to her with eyes the same shade and sharpness as Ceylon sapphires. He silently read the inscription on the faded plaque next to the door that described the building’s illustrious history with a raised brow while Emma waited for the inevitable smart-ass remark.

“Inviting the fox right into the henhouse to play, are we?” he said at last with a grin.

“More like il gallo, I think.”

Killian understood both the Italian word for rooster as well as the double meaning behind it at once and he chuckled while she unlocked the iron gate that had been intended once to guard the lives and the chastity of those within and keep predators of all stripes out. But the nuns were long gone and her room was not a Spartan cell with only a single cot and a crucifix that the sisters had made due with to keep their vow of poverty, it was comfortably appointed and had come with a bottle of red wine and a heart-shaped box of chocolates for the holy day that had become a secular celebration of romance, clearly meant to be consumed by two. Times certainly had changed, the previous residents would have been completely forbidden from enjoying such decadent luxuries as feather pillows, high-thread count sheets and imported confectionery, let alone from being encouraged to entertain a man in their chambers.

Emma saw him eye the pair of glasses that had been left with the bottle, a hint of uncertainty crossing his handsome face in sharp contrast to his usual confident swagger.

“I do hope I didn’t interrupt any other plans of yours tonight, angel.”

Jealousy. She could see that as well, in the flush on his neck and the darkening of his eyes, a wisp of deadly sin rising between them in the room. Their affair had never included a vow of fidelity, but he always kept the promises he made and there were some things that were best left unsaid, they were too different and he wouldn’t understand. So she didn’t answer him with words, but in the press of her lips to his, a benediction in the soft slide of the kiss that had him stiff-backed and resistant for a moment with his arms at his sides until he relented with a low noise in the back of his throat that rumbled through her and did delicious things between her legs. Hands found her hips, large, dexterous, flexing along the curve and trailing along the strip of bare skin just above the waist of her jeans, under her jacket. His touch was always warm and it shouldn’t make her shiver, but they’d always been a contradiction, the demon who prayed, the angel who sinned. In a deconsecrated convent where celibacy had given way to passion they defied all the rules like the martyred saint for whom the day was named, clothing falling to the floor in a mingled heap.

“Don’t burn my jacket,” she said in between kisses, trying to get it off to join his before Killian’s usual impatience got the best of him and he scorched it into ash.

“Don’t worry, I like the red leather jacket.”

Emma laughed, “Really?”

A kiss was placed into the little dip in her shoulder as the jacket was peeled back that made another shiver down her spine while he murmured against her skin.

“Red leather…black lace…silky little unmentionables, I like them all very much on you. Let’s go shopping tomorrow, I’ll buy everything your heart desires.”

There wouldn’t be tomorrow, couldn’t be, there could only be these few hours stolen from eternity when the world above and the world below were both shut away outside the door. Clothes shed without any casualties, Emma stepped out of the pile and pressed herself to him boldly from shoulder to shin, nipples tightening and feeling the ripple and flex of the muscles up the ladder of his ribs as she ran her hands along them. The heat blazed, enough to fog the mirror hanging above the chest of drawers, antique Venetian glass turning to smoke and blurring their reflection as if it was also hiding them from any divine or damned scrutiny on the other side while they tumbled down to the bed. Killian knelt above her, his blue eyes taking on a wicked gleam that immediately told her he was up to something. There was a ripple in the air and she felt another small weight settle on the bed by her elbow, when she looked down she saw it was the box of chocolates. Killian wound the pink satin ribbon tying it shut around his finger and gave a slight tug, pulling it off and lifting the lid to peer inside.

“So tell me, is this how one is meant to feast in honour of a saint?”

He held up a chocolate between his fingers and it immediately started to melt, dripping onto her chest in a warm drizzle while his grin turned wolfish like the predator he was and clearly, she was the wayward lamb. His dark head bent and that silver tongue flicked out, capturing the drops that flowed down the valley between her breasts and tracing the sensitive curve underneath before going up the slope and wrapping around the taut peak of her nipple. Emma ran her fingers through his soft hair, arching up into the sensations as he carefully licked up every stray drop. The next piece had some kind of caramel filling, swirling in a sticky ribbon down her stomach when the chocolate coating broke apart. That too was caught by his mouth, the ache between her legs increasing with each lash of his tongue and scratch of his beard against the delicate flesh while he moved lower and lower, blue eyes glancing up from beneath those thick black lashes. Finally, finally, the chocolate was forgotten as he started to feast on something else in earnest, spreading her thighs apart and burying his face between them with a muffled groan that Emma echoed with her own cry at the sheer, unbridled pleasure being drawn with each slow and deliberate swipe and stroke. The supplicant kneeling at her altar, Killian was well-versed in this intimate rite and and a liturgy of sighs and moans spilled from her lips at his eager worship while she tightened her fingers in his hair and felt her back arch up off the bed and the strain of her wings as they longed to unfurl and let her take flight. His hands on her hips were an anchor that kept her from flying away until she was falling instead, a moment forever frozen in time as the angel in ecstasy.

Killian sat back on his haunches with an infuriatingly smug look, naked, his erection standing thick and proud and ready but he appeared to be in no particular hurry to use it, reaching over to take another chocolate out of the box and popping it into his mouth instead.

“You hate sweets.”

The smugness only increased as her voice came out laboured and unsteady, while her skin was flushed as red as the rose all along the path that his mouth had wandered. The marks he had left would quickly fade, leaving her unblemished and uncorrupted once more when he was gone but the echo of them would linger on, reminding her that uncorrupted and incorruptible were not the same things and playing with fire could end in a nasty brand.

“True,” Killian agreed after he swallowed the piece. “Most are too cloyingly saccharine for my tastes, but some are more palatable than others, especially when paired with the right accompaniment.”

His lustful gaze wandered over her and left little doubt as to what type of accompaniment he was referring to before he went back to the box and carefully perused what was left, selecting something that Emma couldn’t see at first. The box vanished in a shadow and he revealed a flat, ebony disk that he flipped like a coin, drawing her eye to the movement long enough for him to unfold from his seated position and strike with serpentine speed. He loomed over her in less than a blink, a deadly viper in the form of a man. But instead of venom, his bite was full of the bitter taste of dark chocolate, pressed between their lips to dissolve on her tongue in a swirl of cocoa tinged with hints of cinnamon and spice. It was incredibly decadent, so rich that it was almost too much, velvet smooth and far from sweet.

It was utterly delicious.

The chocolate melted away and it was just Killian, only Killian, always Killian, the one temptation she could never resist and there was no resistance when he pushed inside, she was still pliant and slick and they moved in a languid dance, slow and unhurried. He braced himself on his forearms and rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, his body aligned with hers from the rub of his nose against her own when he dipped his head down for another kiss to the tender press of her breasts against his chest, their legs in a tangle and each slide of hard, male flesh sheathing deeper and deeper within her with each stroke until he was buried to the hilt, fitting perfectly with no space left between them. Darkness and light had once been one, in the beginning, and they were again before the inevitable separation that awaited them.

“Emma.”

He lifted up, her infernal lover, his eyes deep pools of midnight while inky hair fell over his forehead. She scratched her nails lightly down his chest and left a golden trail of blessed light, flickering like the tail of a falling star.

“Yes?” she asked, knowing what he wanted but unable to resist teasing him just a little first. His jaw clenched and his eyes fell shut as the sensation ripped through him, making the cords on his neck stand out while he let out a deep groan that rumbled right through his chest and into her palms. A mortal man would have given in completely at such a jolt of divine ecstasy, Killian was more impervious. His eyes snapped open again and narrowed to a focus that would both thrill and terrify an innocent nun in equal measure. Emma felt him shift his hips, the thick drag of his erection hitting almost just the right spot with the movement and making her clench around him. He was focused on finding the angle that would make her fall utterly apart, thrusting shallowly for a few strokes and then sliding in deep. Her toes curled like petals and her hands clutched the muscular curve of his ass when he found what he was looking for, a dangerous grin spreading across his lips in response.

“Emma,” he repeated, a clear note of command in his tone. “Say. It.”

Speak of the devil and he doth appear. She knew what he wanted, more than just sex, he wanted her to name him and acknowledge his true form, the demon in her arms, inside her, to give him that power and give in to him completely. Unseen flames licked at her skin the same way his tongue had traced every inch, coaxing and cajoling, while his voice was the only one she heard, command turning to a fervent plea that drowned out everything else.

“My blessed one, my angel, say my name. Say you want me, only me. Please!”

It came out like the peal of a ringing bell, clear and sweet, the sacred wrapped around the profane. “Killian!”

Light flared incandescent, divine radiance meeting infernal fire and creating a conflagration that engulfed them both. Killian let out a near howl of triumph, bucking hard against her for the handful of thrusts it took to send them both spiralling into white hot bliss. His name spilled over her lips again and again, the broad shoulders shuddering in response to each while his face was buried in her neck. His inhuman pace faltered and finally went still, his limbs slack although something else remained stiff even as her voice turned to a feathery whisper and the fire slowly died down to embers. That too softened at last, and they cleaved apart once more.

“Lent is early this year.”

He said it casually, as if he was just making idle, post-coital pillow talk. He used to smoke cigarettes afterwards, but that had stopped at some point years ago. Emma rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm.

“I know.”

Ash Wednesday was only a few weeks away. Unlike the fixed dates of other feasts like the one currently being celebrated with flowers and candy it varied every year and on this particular liturgical cycle it fell early on the calendar, marking the start of forty days of fasting and repentance among the faithful. Emma was among them, forsaking earthly vices like chocolate and caffeine (and a blue-eyed demon who was the hardest of them all to give up) for six weeks and doing penance in hopes of absolution.

There was a resigned sigh from above and the arm he had wrapped around her bare back tightened a bit, holding her in place for a moment until he relented and loosened his grip.

“Well then, I suppose that just means it’s over sooner.”

They lay in silence, the minutes ticking back as time marched inexorably on even for two immortals. He had been gone over Christmas, departing as he usually did in late November just before the start of the Advent season, and Lent loomed just ahead of them in early March. The brief stretch in between was Ordinary Time, a reprieve from it all when she could pretend to be just Emma Swan and not an angel of the Lord.

For a little while, at least.

“I did, you know.”

She lifted up slightly on her elbow and met Killian’s confused look.

“You did what?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

“I missed you.”

The smugness was gone and there was surprise instead, a boyishly pleased smile blooming like the rose across his face at her simple confession. He was even more dangerous like this,

when he asked for nothing and she wanted to give him everything.

She didn’t do penance during Lent for herself. Giving everything else up was easy, which was precisely why she had to sacrifice him.

“And I know you were goading on those two morons back in the square,” she added, poking him in the ribs.

Killian didn’t bother trying to deny it, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “I had some time to kill and as you pointed out earlier, it’s the feast day of a saint. Had to introduce just a little discord into all this soppy romanticism, I do have a reputation to maintain, blessed one. Besides, I knew you could handle them before they got too out of line. I had faith.”

She made a non-commital noise at that and rested her head back down on his shoulder. The two men had thought they had the upper hand, seeing only a lone woman to tease and torment and nothing more. At least at first. She had given them a glimpse of her divinity and not held back, a halo forged directly from the light of a star, wings that were twice the height of a man, revealing her true form in all its Heavenly glory. She wasn’t just Emma Swan and he wasn’t just Killian Jones no matter what the season or the date on the calendar.

Emma felt his fingers thread gently through her hair and the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, closing her eyes while he pulled the blanket over them. They could never be ordinary, but they could be like this, at least for a little while.

#cs ff #cs fic #my fic #bh&h #cs smut #lovely anons

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