#‘he needs mouse bites to live’ ahh moment

[scarabies-real]

HHEBFBHSJDHFBT WHAT THE FUCK???? HOUSE IS IN A GOOD MOOD. CUDDY AND WILSON GO TO TALK TO HIM BECAUSE THEY THINK HES DONE SOMETHING BAD. AND THEN THEYRE CALLING A FUCKING CODE ON HIM????? THIS SHOW MAN

[chaoticrebels]

//hehe, well I can't deny that they would be kinda cute together. So I'll join you down the rabbit hole.

There was a moment where Kimo didn't say anything, just looked at her with a curious expression. He didn't know why but it didn't seem like Layla was too thrilled by the idea of him meeting Sean, which was silly wasn't it? Because weren't they friends? Unless the little mouse didn't trust him to meet the realm traveler, to meet this guy she kept mentioning. But that was ridiculous, right? No, maybe not but he wasn't about to comment on his suspicions.

❝Oh so you are leaving in an half an hour. what were you doing to do til then if I didn't decide to be social with you?❞ He asked, ignoring the possibility of meeting Sean for a moment. ❝Well then I'll finally have a face to him, finally know this person who you keep talking about.❞ They say curiosity killed the cat but seriously, what could go wrong?

At her comment about knights not holding a gun to someone's head, he couldn't help but to laugh. A broad smile flashed across his features until he realized his fangs were on display, which caused him to cover his mouth pretty fast; abnormally fast for someone who was meant to be a normal human but he didn't need her to see his double fangs. ❝Oh no, no, no. Most knights definitely do not hold a gun to someone's head, prefer to use swords I do believe. Ah, so you know a real knight in shining armor. Well I am enthused that he embodies everything a knight in shining armor is, would be consider high treason if he betrayed whom he is meant to be protecting or I assume it would be.❞ He mused, which almost made him wonder if his so called bodyguard had been peeping on them. Given as a favor for his mother, he posed as his "father" that lived near by to keep an eye on him. ❝Ahh, well he must have quite the reputation then. M' that works for me. And you'll have to forgive me but mousey just had such a nice ring to it that I couldn't resist.❞

A soft amused chuckle escaping his throat as his facial features lit up in amusement, loving the fact that he had managed to make her blush with his honesty of why he bit his lip. She could rest assure though, he wasn't turned on in the slightest right now. It was between uncertainty and nervousness that had him biting him lip in this case. ❝Yeah, yeah, probably. I mean one can never be too careful in the line of work I'm in, after all being an assassin is bound to make one some enemies.❞ There was no way he was going to add the fact he was also a spy and royalty which only added to it.

Kimo was in the process of waving off her apology when he heard the question, which caused his colorful hues to widened momentarily. Oh fuck, well technically he shouldn't be surprised the question popped up since he did slip up and spoke his native language when he was caught off guard. But now that meant he had to expose himself or lie, and lying would just be awkward so he sighed, trying his hardest not to bite down on his freshly healed lips. ❝Elvish.❞ Kimo remarked, before letting his glamor on his ears vanish since might as well let her know the truth now.

Then she was apologizing again and the elf couldn't help but to wave her off once more. ❝Don't apologize, it's fine. Just caught me off guard.❞ He shrugged like it was nothing before snorting softly, shaking his head moments later. ❝Layla, stop. It's fine, really. Just a warning would have been nice, after all I could have stab you instead of exposing myself.❞ And he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did harm her because he didn't want to hurt his new friend.

❝Alright, hot chocolate it is.❞ The assassin voiced, making his way to the kitchen. ❝Oh, so this might be the last time I see you mousey? That's a shame but sure, I can at least share some details but don't tell a soul.❞ He gave her a few minutes to answer while he gathered everything he would need to make some hot coco for her, and only once it was in the process of warming up, did he turn his full attention back to her. ❝As you see I'm not human, I appear human but I'm actually an elf. And just like you, I'm not from here. I'm from Alfheim. And you already know that I'm an assassin, but I'm more than just an assassin, I'm also an entertainer. But as much as I love making music, it drives my personal bodyguard nuts. He thinks I should be more cautious with pretty myself out there, given that I'm royalty where I come from. My mother sent me here to protect me from something, not sure what. Only my pretend father knows but he won't tell me anything so, though given the fact the dark elves went to war with Asgard, maybe that has something to do with it. Beats me, I don't know.❞

Was that too much, probably but it was the gist and a good place to start.

There was no denying it, as Kimo almost seemed disappointed he might never have the possibility of meeting Sean in person. It was something that Layla was just going to have to accept, part of her worrying in the back of her mind that the moment Kimo met Sean he would completely forget she even existed.

----but that was just life wasn't it? Some people just shined brighter than others and Layla was used to playing the supporting character, the background extra, the person who always fell into the role of the little sister type if any sort of friendship were to develop. So, she had done what she usually did, forcing the best smile she could muster as she looked at Kimo and ignored the thoughts running through her head.

“He is coming to pick me up in a half hour, you can meet him then.”

After all, might as well just rip off the band-aid all at once, right?

Layla had tilted her head as Kimo told her the other forms of his name he actually preferred to be called, and she couldn't help but to softly laugh when he mentioned it made him seem like a knight in shining armor. “Most Knights don't hold a gun to the back of somebody's head either, so there is that. I actually know a knight in shining armor, Alexander. He is everything that a knight embodies. Loyal, noble, kind --” She smiled thinking about him, “We haven't actually met in person, well, maybe in passing, but his reputation precedes him. I don't have many nicknames myself, well, besides Mouse, and apparently now Mousey, --- I'll call you Ki' from now on.”

Oh. Oh dear had Layla's cheeks flushed bright pink when Kimo went into further explanation about why he bit his lips much, the dropping of the words turned on had her throat suddenly dry. The point of the matter was, as she sorted through his explanation of all the reasons he had bit his lip, the most logical explanation was that he was nervous. After all, it wasn't like he was expecting to see her and he seemed to think she had only returned to see him so that she could extract some devious plan of revenge against him. She wasn't that devious, but he didn't know her well enough yet to trust that.

“Maybe I make you nervous because you think I only came here to kill you.” That was, after all, the only reason that Layla could think of, right before she had used her magic to heal his lips, not at all recognizing the language he had used. “I'm just healing your lips, I apologized if I overstepped, I - what language was that?--” Of course she would never think to ask what he was, to her that would have been incredibly rude.

It was clear that Layla had overstepped. “I really am sorry, I don't know what came over me.” She really didn't, she usually wasn't that bold. “I won't do that again, I promise.” She had held up two fingers to swear it as he explained he didn't actually have any tea to offer her. “Oh, no, its fine, please don't trouble yourself. Hot chocolate will do just fine. If it is alright though, I would like to know more about you, whatever you are comfortable telling me, in case we don't see each other again.”

As the last words left her lips, she had followed him into the kitchen.

[jamaiskookie]

i would like more soundcloud rapper yoongi x idol y/n please it’s so cute

v-live alert! -myg

pairing: idol! y/n x soundcloud rapper! yoongi

wc; 2.9k

a/n: lots of you asked, and so you shall receive. ps, i wrote this really rushed but i kinda love it. lmk what you think, love you guys <3

[V LIVE] Surprise LIVE! 

the v-live notification. or, more accurately, the sound of war. alternatively, you dance around your studio on a livestream and yoongi has a mental breakdown. 

masterlist  PREV

“i miss you too!“ you say, replying to one of the first comments that pop up on the live.

you probably should’ve showered before going live... and you probably should’ve changed out of sweats. 

whatever.

it’s not like your fans haven’t seen this before.

half of your pre-debut pictures are just downright disgusting. 

the number of viewers on the top of your phone begins to climb up to the thousands, increasing every half a second. 

it always amazes you how many people show up to your lives. sometimes you wonder if your fans genuinely have nothing better to do. how do they always show up so fast?

the comments begin to flood with greetings and exclamations of ‘oh my god i’m so early!11!1’ and the multicoloured heart pop up on your screen, building up an impressive stream of likes. 

“where am i?“ you read through the comments and look around, as if you forgot where you were. “in the studio.“ you grin when the comments flood with questions asking if dreamcloud is getting new music.

you can’t answer, of course, but it’s fun to see. you squint at your phone, which is propped on an elaborate setup that you spent the past twenty minutes preparing. 

(three books on one eyeshadow palette and a selfie stick gingerly placed on a small stool)

((you pray to every deity out there that it won’t fall))

“i was just bored,“ you shrug, speaking to the screen. “so i decided to come on here and talk to you guys. how have you been?“ you ask. 

hundreds of comments answer. 

“i’m alright“

“i’m good!“

most of them contain some form of sappy declaration like ‘my day is much better now that you’re here!’ it makes you smile. how cute. 

the v-live notification. 

or, more accurately, the sound of war. 

that cursed, terrible ding! haunts yoongi’s darkest and most terrifying nightmares. the sheer amount of panic that rushes through his veins when he hears that godforsaken noise, god. 

the number of lives he’s missed- yoongi can’t even bear to think about it. 

so maybe it was a blessing in disguise that yoongi put his phone on do not disturb so he didn’t have to hear that disgusting sound. instead, he found out the news via a gorilla’s screech.

“Y/N’S LIVE RIGHT NOW STARTED FOURTY SECONDS AGO HURRY UP YOONGI GET YOUR ASS UP AND STOP STUDYI-“ jimin yells from his room down the hall. 

yoongi almost falls out of his chair scrambling to get to his phone. it’s not like he was really studying anyways- more like using his pencils to tap out a cool-sounding beat on his desk out of boredom. 

watching your live > passing his music theory class.

priorities. 

with shaky hands, he grabs at his phone, slumping onto the floor and he sees the familiar blue icon with the notification popped up on the screen. 

[V LIVE] Surprise LIVE! Y/N: let’s chat <3

an unnatural squeak that slightly resembles the sound a mouse slips out of yoongi’s mouth.

even when he was a baby starrie and was glued to his phone at all times, he’s never been this early to a live. he unlocks his phone, cursing his momentary clumsiness. he clicks into the live, smiling when your beaming face blasts up on his screen. 

you haven’t gone live in so long- it’s nice to see your face again. 

“- how have you been?“ 

“good.“ yoongi types out in the comment box, mumbling the words as he’s typing. “way better now that you’re live.“ sometimes yoongi cringes at himself when he types these things. i mean, who could possibly guess that min yoongi, resident scary-emo-couldslapyouintheface bad boy socially un-responsible simped over a k-pop idol?

he can already see his reputation go down the drain. 

he also wonders what it says about himself that he’s a 20-something college student who’s life practically revolves around you, an idol who’s just about a year younger than him.

but dreamcloud is a part of his identity now. he identifies as a starrie no matter what. you know how the old saying goes-

once you stan, you can’t unstan. or something like that, he’s honestly not sure. 

you tuck your head onto your hand, diligently trying to keep up with all the comment. with a gasp, you nod at something. “oh, you’re right, user yoonalova98!” - that’s another thing special about you. whenever you read out comments, you also read out the username of whoever wrote it. 

you explained in one interview- that it’s cooler to give credit and talk to your fans as if you’re just chatting as friend. saying the username feels like you’re saying their names. 

what kind of lucky fan would get their comment read aloud by Y/N?

ugh. 

yoongi blinks when he remembers that technically, he’s sort of part of this group of elite, recognised fans. 

his twitter stan account got almost five thousand more followers after Y/N replied to his selca. the post itself has tons and tons of likes and retweets. 

insane, that Y/N- Y/N herself- knows of his existence. Y/N- the love of his life, has seen his FACE. she commented three HEART emojis below a selfie that he took. 

if he thinks about it too much, he’ll start feeling faint again.  

“our anniversary is coming up soon! i can’t believe it’s been three years already. time does pass by when you’re having fun.“ you say. yoongi thinks that it’s rather ironic that you would forget your anniversary, when yoongi’s had a calendar countdown to January 14th since the beginning of september. 

“ahh,“ you say, leaning in closer to the screen. “from user lialiarach, ‘did you watch jisoo unnie’s acting debut’ - i did! we all watched it and cheered her on during the premiere!“ 

jisoo’s new drama is good. it’s a fantasy-horror blend, and he, jimin, namjoon and jin finished all 16 episodes in two days when streaming hit Netflix. 

your head tilts and you smile. “song recommendations?” you wonder aloud, and yoongi scrambles to get a pen and notepad out. you don’t do ‘y/n’s listening parties’ as much anymore, but your taste in music is impeccable and he collects all the songs in a playlist. 

it’s called ‘wedding tunes’ (jimin named it, not him, yoongi swears) 

everytime he tries to change it back, it somehow switches back to wedding tunes the next day. 

it’s disturbing how good jimin is at this kind of stuff. hopefully yoongi won’t have to bail him out of jail one day. 

“okay!“ you say, pulling your laptop open. you hum as you scroll through some page that yoongi can’t see- and he anxiously waits for the first song to be played with twitchy hands and a strong grip on his pen. 

the first bar plays out and yoongi’s already in love.

“this is,“ you say over the music, double checking just to make sure. “don’t need your love by NCT...“ you squint. god knows there are too many NCT members. “dream! NCT dream featuring HRVY.“ 

“NCT dream...“ yoongi mumbles to himself, writing the song down on the notepad. 

“you know,“ you say over the music, spinning in your chair and nodding to the beat. “i’ve only met the NCT guys a couple times at music shows and such but they’re all so nice. i can’t remember all their names, but i’m decently familiar with their faces. how do they even have 23 members? how does it all work??“ 

you dance around the studio, singing along nonsensical lyrics that don’t make sense but sort of fit the rhythm of the song (??) 

“don’t need your loo-ooove-!!! dum dum duhhhh duhros noya!!!” yoongi stifles a laugh. there’s a reason why you constantly forget lyrics on stage. 

which is quite ironic, actually, because half the time you’re forgetting the lyrics to a song you wrote yourself. 

afterwards, you play all the hidden gems- and yoongi’s proud to say he’s familiar with quite a few of them. 

airplane by j-hope (a youtube star turned successful rapper-vocalist-dancer)

sweet night by v (the internet’s resident eye-candy)

and then you continue to scroll through your laptop, biting your lip and murmuring quietly to yourself. you glance once back at your phone screen. 

okay, listen.

yoongi knows that he’s delusional, okay?

but everytime you look straight in the screen it’s almost like you’re looking directly at the camera it’s almost like you’re staring into his soul. which makes zero sense, but it still makes his heart skip a beat.

let him dream, please

“what am i scrolling through?“ you say, reciting a question from the chat. “soundcloud, user chachachae.“ 

soundcloud? 

oh.

that’s pretty cool.

he didn’t know you had a soundcloud account!

you usually post all your covers and random shorts to instagram or another one of your personal blogs. 

for a moment, yoongi indulges himself by wondering if you’d ever listened to his music. his soundcloud account is linked in his twitter bio, after all... 

but he shakes those thoughts away as fast as they came. he doesn’t need to entertain himself with such silly thoughts. 

“ooh, this one’s good!“ you say, clicking onto something. 

still with you by JAYKAY (pffftt haihdkahjd) starts playing and you lean back, humming along. yoongi knows this one too!! now he’s 3 for 3!! he and you do share a similar taste in music, so maybe it does make sense. 

even though you’re actually main vocalist and lead dancer, you do listen to a lot of rap music. but the music you make is nothing like the old school hip hop tracks that yoongi is partial to. 

the music you make- how can he explain it? 

sweet like honey with a little bit of tang. 

like barbecue honey!!!!

ok that was a bad analogy. 

all of his favourite dreamcloud tracks are written by you- cloud nine, up in the sky, are u still here, quicksand- the list goes on and on and on. 

it’s like listening to your voice solves anything he goes against. bad day? dreamcloud. something to celebrate? blast your debut song. in need of a party song? easy fix. he gets aux cord rights? (granted, this doesn’t happen very often, since seokjin insists that his music taste is superior to his friends.) but anyways, y/n can fix it. 

listening to your voice feels comforting. it invokes something in him that he honestly cannot explain with words. you’re his inspiration. not just in music- but in life. he admires how you’re able to smile through anything, how you take responsibility for your own actions. 

he admires your kind heart, which offers generosity and forgiveness to even the most underserving people. 

he admires your passion, for music, for your members, for the smallest things. he admires how you’ll love everyone and anyone. 

even though he’s never really met you, he feels like he knows you. he wishes he could, anyways. he wants to thank the person who’s gotten him through such bad days. 

yoongi curses himself again for being so delusional. 

he keeps telling himself that he can’t get so attached. then he’ll end up like one of those creepy fans who are convinced their idols actually like them. 

blech.

“okay, next song!“ you exclaim cheerfully. “i really like this one, guys. he’s this soundcloud star. he makes really cool music.“ yoongi readies his pen. if this person really is a soundcloud star, then there’s a high chance yoongi knows of him. a smaller chance that he actually knows the guy personally; either online or from real life. 

you press the space bar almost obnoxiously, like you’re about to reveal something grand. you look into the camera, and you lock eyes with yoongi- through that cursed, horrible screen. 

the first note plays and yoongi thinks that it sounds... oddly familiar, actually. for a moment, he sighs in disappointment. this one doesn’t sound as great as the previous few songs. almost like it’s incomplete, imperfect. something about it bugs him at the very bottom of his gut. 

jimin figures it out before he does. 

“AHHHHHHHHH YOONGI!!! OH MY GOD-!!!! YOONGI ARE YOU SEEING THIS? YOONGI!! HYUNG!“ yoongi grumbles, wondering what the hell jimin is screeching about now. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,“ he mumbles. the difference between him and jimin is the way they express their emotions. while yoongi bottles it all up, choosing to deal with things alone and slump around, jimin has no other choice but to scream things out. it’s a wonder they’re such good friends, really. “what is it now?“ yoongi mutters to himself. 

“yeah yeah, a gentle breeze- “ and then it hits him. all at once. 

“holy fucking shit.“ he whispers to himself, slumping down on the floor. he can barely hear what you say next.

“this song is called people by agust d. he goes by the name suga on social media-!“ yoongi falls down, gasping for air. “i’m a fan,“ you remark casually. “mr. suga producer-nim!! i’m your fan! please continue to make good music!“ you chuckle. “what am i doing right now? he probably isn’t even watching.“ you stare innocently at the phone camera, as if you don’t even know that you’re changing someone’s life right now. 

out of his peripheral vision, he can see jimin rushing into the room, crouching next to him and placing a hand on his back, murmuring something yoongi can’t hear through the sound of his sobs. 

huh. when did he even start crying?

“he makes rap and really cool hip hop music. you guys should give him a listen. his lyrics are really meaningful, too.“ you nod along, reciting the lyrics word for word- even though you really can’t rap. 

“what kind of person am I? am I a good person? or a bad person? many of ways to judge just a person. everyone will live on, everyone will love, everyone will fade away“ you headbang along to the beat. 

yoongi slides down the wall inch by inch. he wonders if he’ll faint or vomit first.

other people seem to make fun of people like him- people who find solace in idols, in music. that’s partially why he doesn’t like disclosing the fact that he’s a diehard fan of an idol girl group. 

but in hindsight, that’s so stupid. who gives two fucks about his interests? hell, yoongi’s been depressed half his life. and if a group of girls who sing songs and perform make him feel better, what’s so wrong with that?

 jimin’s voice is a little clearer now, and so is yours. you’re singing along to the lyrics- the lyrics that he wrote. the lyrics that he spent hours agonising over, wondering whether his shortcomings and anxiety in his life were worth posting on the internet for his measly following to see. 

wondering if the music he made had any impact at all, if one day he might see his dream come true, to see his music being played in public. wondering if anyone might hear his songs and think that it helped them get over a bad day. just like you have for him. 

yoongi’s sobs wrack through his body, tears flowing freely on his face. he’s crying hard. ugly crying, like a baby throwing a temper tantrum. his cries echo through the room. if he could see himself right now...

well, he doesn’t want to think about it. he’s sure it’s not a pretty view. 

jimin looks over him, smiling proudly. his eyes are glassy, and he tucks yoongi’s head in his chest, putting his arms around him and embracing him. 

yoongi’s shoulders shake. if it was any other day, he would usher jimin out the room. he hates it when people see him being vulnerable. even his own family hasn’t seen him cry that much. 

but right now, he can’t bring himself to do anything but cry. other people may ask why this is such a big deal, why someone emotionally constipated like min yoongi would cry like this for such a small matter. 

this, he doesn’t know how to explain either. 

all he can think about is how much it means to him. that someone he admires so much is now, in turn, saying his music- no, his life- is good. nothing much else. but just knowing that you’ve listened to his work, that you know of his alter ego’s name...

his crying sounds grow larger. 

jimin pets at his hair. “shh,” he murmurs. “it’s okay.” jimin’s voice also grows a little shaky. he tears up, but continues to comfort the crying boy in his arms. “you did it, hyung. it’s okay. you made it. you did it. why are you crying? this is good news! this is so great! i’m proud of you, we’re all so proud of you.” 

yoongi tries to speak; it doesn’t go very well. but when he tries again, he manages to choke something out. 

“i did it.“ he says, before burying his face back into jimin’s hug. the two boys sit on the ground, crying together. an hour passes, then two. 

slowly, yoongi drifts off to bed on the ground, the melody of his own song blended with sound of your voice echoing in his head. 

my ordinary became your special, my special became your ordinary. so what? what if you just brush by? what if you get hurt? sometimes you might get hurt again, sometimes you might shed tears. so what? so what if you live like that? 

~ people by agust d

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101​​ @dwcljh​ @stonyiscanon​ @bishuthot​ @s0seo​ @cecedrake2217​ 

[subwonwooagenda]

Candy’s Regulars | 1

MASTERLIST

Teaser

Pairings: Camgirl!Reader X SVT

Constant Warnings: Group masturbations (sometimes), smut, use of toys, kink usage, language

Chapter Notes: This is the first official chapter of this series. I hope you’ll enjoy it and please don’t hesitate to leave feedback, good or not. Thank you for reading! The story will be in POV’s but it’ll be in third person limited (search it up), there will be no smut in this chapter, its more about you getting to know your lovely regulars more ;) That just means the next chapter will be filled to the brim with smut, also, Cheol has a hamster, enjoy that XD

Chapter Warnings: language

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

Jeonghan’s POV

Jeonghan was in awe. He didn’t know what to do or how to act with the message invite that seemed to be mocking the scream he gave as he slammed his computer shut two minutes ago.

“Okay, Han. You can do this. It’s not that big a deal. Your favorite cammer sends you an invite to be in a group chat. Happens all the time.” He tried to hype himself, his shaking hand hovering the mouse over the accept button as he screams internally. 

He gave a final sigh, pressing the right mouse button before squeezing his eyes shut. After a minute of having his eyes closed, he peeped one open, seeing the active chat that he was now a part of.

candy_princess: Oh good, Hanni is here!

He winced as he heard his audible whimper. God, he could only imagine what his name would sound like coming out of your mouth.

thetigerkingKS: Ayye, welcome to the VIP’s dude

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Holy fuck that just hit me- We’re Candy’s VIP’s bro

DroopyEyedJun: We the superior ones-

Jeonghan gave a small laugh as he read the chat, the men that were with him certainly were funny.

PrettyHanni: Ahh, i would have joined sooner but i was having an internal crisis, i guess you can call it.

S_Cheol: So basically, you were fanboying?

GentleHong: Dude, who wouldn’t fanboy over Candy?

DivaBoo: EXPOSED

HappyVirusMinnie: OOF

With a shake of his head, Jeonghan typed out a reply, figuring there was no sense in hiding his blatant fanboy moment.

PrettyHanni: Oh yeah? Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t freak the fuck out

skyscraperGYU: I know for sure i did

S_Cheol: oh im not, i literally threw my phone across my room and scared my hamster- 

Jeonghan laughed loudly as he got himself comfortable on his bed, propping his laptop on his lap.

candy_princess: AWW you have a hamster?!

S_Cheol: haha, yea i do, he’s a little shit though

sweaterpaws_Wonwoo: Dude dont disrespect your hamster like that smh

S_Cheol: okay well when he decides to crawl into your hoodie sleeve and bite your armpit then you’ll realize-

As Jeonghan was reading (and laughing) the chat, he started thinking. He’s been watching your lives for a long time now, almost a year and a half, with the same thirteen men on a constant, yet he knew nothing about them. Then again, most people don’t try and make friendships of the basis ‘Hey, i jack off to this camgirl and i know you do too, wanna hang out?’ He gave a laugh at that thought, just imagining the scenario until he was brought back to reality by the chat.

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Hey, Candy? can i ask something

candy_princess: of course!

SuperiorMaknaeDino: I’m not complaining, but why did you make this group chat?

iconicboyhansol: I’ve been wondering that too

As Jeonghan read what he typed he tilted his head, getting lost in his thoughts once more. Why did you make the chat? What was so special about the thirteen of them that possessed you, who rarely did private streams and never did private chats to want to talk to them like this?

candy_princess: oh..well to be honest with you guys, it was mainly to say thank you for alway supporting my streams. Hell =, you guys definitely donate the most out of any of my viewers, you practically pay my rent, so i just wanted to get to know the men responsible for my happy living.

musicgodWoozi: im not crying, my goldfish stepped on my eye-

FashionistaHao: Imma be a man and admit, my eyes wet af rn

Jeonghan didn’t know how to stop his heart from pounding against his chest. He knew you were cute but this was an entire nother level of adorable and Jeonghan liked it way more than he should have.

candy_princess: Noooo, don’t cry please :<

S_Cheol: You tell us that adorable information and expect us not to be soft, Princess?

PrettyHanni: Honestly, you just became 10x more adorable to me-

He chuckled as he watched the other guys tease you for your adorable mini speech. It was strange, it almost felt normal how comfortable he felt talking with you and the others, like he belonged there with them.

iconicboyhansol: i needa google how to not fall in love with a woman ive never met-

candy_princess: awww guys >~< my blush is real right now-  but seriously, you guys make my camming so much more fun than it used to be and i appreciate that~

musicgodWoozi: We appreciate you too, Princess, i don't know any other men that would drop everything at the notification that you are live

Jeonghan chuckled at what he said, never relating to a sentence more in his life.

candy_princess: which is why i wanted to offer something...

Jeonghan’s brow quirked in interest, sitting up a bit straighter as he read your message.

DroopyEyedJun: What do you mean, baby?

candy_princess: I wanted to ask if you all would be interested in doing a few private streams, one on one, and possibly filming with me, one on one, if youre up for it...

Jeonghan’s breath hitched in his throat, causing him to go into a coughing fit, almost dropping his laptop. He was speechless. One on one cam streams as well as filming with you..holy fuck he was getting lost in his imagination.

S_Cheol: Oh fuck..you actually mean it?

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Oh fuck please don’t be playing

candy_princess: Im dead serious, i swear, but only if you all want to.

Jeonghan didn’t hesitate as he typed out his answer.

PrettyHanni: Oh fuck yes, i am 100% down

S_Cheol: me too

iconicboyhansol: Id rather die than say no, so hell yea

DroopyEyedJun: Please yes-

sweaterpaws_Wonwoo: I think i speak for all of us, so they dont gotta type, that all of us are up for it, babe

candy_princess: Then how about i message you guys privately and we can set a time and schedule?

S_Cheol: works for us baby

candy_princess: Ill start tomorrow morning but its late and i need rest if im going to be giving special treatment tomorrow ;)

Jeonghan gave a deep sigh, heart practically failing from the thoughts of getting private cams from you as well as the opportunity of filming with you. He could feel himself getting excited just at the thought of it.

GentleHong: Alright, Princess, get some sleep okay, but first drink some water and get a shower before you get too sleepy.

candy_princess: yes sir ;)

GentleHong: fUck-

Jeonghan chuckled as he watched you say your goodbyes, his own tiredness starting to set into his body as a few of them said their own goodbyes, his included. He shut off his laptop and ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he thought about the night he just had. From getting off work to jacking off as you pleased yourself on camera, to being offered the chance to be with you one on one. He was in awe. He stopped wallowing in his thoughts and got out of bed, changing into some pajama’s before getting into bed, mind not entirely prepared for what the next days would bring.

[twistedlymad]

I love the reader turning into animals and other (Chaotic) cute things! So how about a story about Ace and Deuce went to prank Ruggie for eating their meals last week, that they made a potion that could turn the drinker into a mouse. They heard that Ruggie had invited Reader to a picnic and they got jealous so they spiked the fruit punch that Reader made for Ruggie and instead of Ruggie drinking it, she drank it and proofed, she became a horribly chaotic mouse! Include Jamil and Kamil, pls!

Ah yes, it’s transforming time again! Chaos literally pours in wherever we go!

But, I’m so sorry dear Anon for taking awhile to write this! This story ended up being a bit longer than I had expected hehe :’)

Anyways, I hope this story lives up to your expectations! Thank you for requesting and have a lovely day!  

What if you became a mouse? (Ft. Ace, Deuce, Grim and Ruggie) (Part 1/2)

Revenge.

Was the only thing that was on two certain Heartslabyul boys’ minds as they were stirring their cauldron.

“Deuce, what goes in next?” Asked a certain orange-haired student.

“It says here… Cheese.” His friend replied.

“He won’t even know what hit him.” Said the orange-haired student as he threw in a block of cheese into the cauldron.

“I don’t think we should be doing this Ace…” Said the dark-haired student to his friend.

“Nonsense! It’s just a mere little prank! Nothing could go wrong! Muahahahahahahaha!” Cackled Ace as Deuce looked into the cauldron, unsure if it was the right course of action.

You might be wondering, what happened that made these two go to such far lengths for ‘a prank’? Well, it happened a week ago.

It was lunchtime at Night Raven College, students were pouring in from left and right into the cafeteria as they tried to snatch places in line for food. Ace and Deuce weren’t that different from other students.

“Hurry up Deuce! We’re gonna be late!!” Yelled Ace to his rival friend.

“I’m trying! Just, grab a spot in line first! There’s too many students for me to pass through!” Deuce yelled back.

“Fine!” Ace said as he secured a spot in the hellishly long line.

Usually, you and Grim would be with them but unfortunately you had to meet up with Crowley to discuss some things. So, on that day, it was only Ace and Deuce.

After a few seconds, Ace managed to get to the front of the line and bought his food.

“Ahhh! The last Cherry Tart! Lucky~” Ace said happily.

“Well, Thanks for the meal!” Said Ace as he was about to chow down on the tart. But, before he could do so, he felt stuck!

“What? Why… Can’t I move?” Said the Heartslabyul dorm member. Then, he heard an all too familiar laugh.

All of a sudden, Ace’s body started to move on its own to Ruggie, who was standing behind him with the same posture.

“Shishishishishi! You’re giving this to me? How thoughtful of you! In fact, I’ll give you this tuna sandwich back.” Ruggie said as he exchanged Ace’s tart for his own sandwich.

“Argh!! RUGGIE-SENPAI!!!” Ace yelled as the hyena took off at high speed.

~Meanwhile with Deuce~

“Finally… I got my lunch…” Said Deuce as he walked away from the line.

“Thank goodness they still have a few Tamako Onigiri left, now, to find that troublemaker Ace.” Said the Heartslabyul dorm member as he looked around in hopes of spotting his orange-haired friend.

With that being said, he failed to notice a certain hyena upperclassman running his way. In the upperclassman’s hand, was a cherry tart and a milk bottle.

‘Heh, I can score a better lunch again!’ Ruggie thought to himself as he ran towards Deuce at full speed. When he did, he purposely bumped into the him and managed to swap the Tamako Onigiri in Deuce’s hand with the milk bottle, without Deuce noticing.

“Gomen!!” And the hyena runs away again.

Oh, poor Deuce, he didn’t know what had happened at all. Or at least, not until Ace had called him.

“D-DEUCE!! Did you see Ruggie-senpai?” Asked a breathless Ace.

“Yea, he ran off in a hurry. Why? Did you need something from him?” Asked Deuce.

“He… He traded my cherry tart for a sandwich. A SANDWICH! It’s not even near the same amount I paid for the tart!” Said Ace, showing Deuce the sandwich. As he did so, Ace noticed the milk bottle in Deuce’s hand.

“Why did you buy milk? Are you sure that’s going to be enough to last you the day?” Ace asked his fellow dorm member. Deuce just blinked at him.

“What do you mean? I got this Tamak- MILK BOTTLE?!” Deuce exclaimed as soon as he noticed the milk bottle in his hands instead of his meal. Ace just patted him on the shoulder.

“You done goofed.”

“It must’ve been Bucchi-senpai! I swear I had bought a Tamako Onigiri!” Said Deuce.

“So, we’ve both been tricked by him eh?” Ace said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Yeah… We sure were.” Deuce sighed and drank from the bottle.

And now, you’re all caught up with what’s happened! So, now we return to the potion-making duo!

“What color is the potion supposed to be?” Ace asked his partner-in-crime.

“Reddish-pink.” Answered Deuce.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Ace smirked as he saw the potion to be in the exact same color.

“So, how are we going to deliver this to him without him noticing?” Deuce asked, closing the spell book.

“Simple, I have been told that Ruggie-senpai will be having a little picnic at the botanical garden today. All we have to do, is spike one of the foods he’ll be eating with the potion. Once we do, we just sit back and enjoy the show.” Ace said as he scooped up the potion into a bottle.

“How do you even know these things?” Deuce asked as he cleaned up their table, making sure that no was no mess.

“I have my sources.” Ace replied. Deuce knew better though, for he had seen Ace being very close to Jack for the past few days.

“And… Done!” Said Ace as he pushed in a cork into the bottle’s opening. “Now, come on! His picnic starts soon so we can’t be late!” And the duo rushed to the botanical garden.

Once they arrived, they saw Ruggie sitting down on a mat with a basket in hand. As he began to set up for the picnic, Ace and Deuce were sneaking their way up to the picnic mat.

“Hmm, what am I missing? I think that’s about it.” Ruggie said, looking around to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

However, it seems like their plan wasn’t all perfect. For they had heard a new voice approaching the picnic area.

“Ruggie-senpai!” Said the new voice as Ruggie waved, signaling them to come over.

“(Y/N)! This way!” Ace and Deuce froze. Why were you here?!

“Ah, thank you for inviting us to your picnic Ruggie-senpai. I’ve bought some punch!” You said with a cheerful smile.

“Consider it as thanks for helping me with Leona-san last week, without you, I couldn’t have made him clean his room himself. Also, thank you for bringing punch.” Ruggie said to you as you and Grim sat down on the mat. Ruggie helped you with pouring the punch into a bowl.

“Yes, he should really clean his room. Royalty or not, he must learn to clean after himself.” You replied as Grim looked around to see the food displayed.

Ace and Deuce were hiding behind a bush near to the picnic.

“How dare he invite (Y/N)?” Ace grumbled lowly.

“He gets to have (Y/N) all to himself eh?” Deuce mumbled in a soft voice.

Ace’s eyes landed on the punch bowl that had a similar color to the potion in his hands. And that, was where Ace’s stupid brilliant plan will take place.

“Bingo.” The orange-haired student said as he sneaked up to the bowl when Ruggie was busy minding other things. With one swift move, Ace had dumped the entire potion into the drink and made his way back to the bush where Deuce was hiding.

“I can’t wait to see what happens next!” Ace snickered as Deuce felt slightly uneasy. He still wasn’t quite sure that this was something that he should be doing. He is trying to be an honor student after all. But, he shrugged the uneasiness off as soon as he remembered what Ruggie had done to him last week. Deuce also told himself that maybe one little prank won’t hurt, after all, no one would suspect it was them.

“Fgnaaaaa! So delicious!!” Grim said joyfully. You giggled at his actions.

“Take whatever you want to eat!” Ruggie said and got himself a sandwich.

Grim had gotten his hands on a tuna sandwich while you just poured yourself a glass of punch and took a sip. Ace and Deuce’s face paled as they saw what you did. Your face scrunched up after taking a sip and Ruggie noticed this.

“Hmm? (Y/N), what’s wrong?” Ruggie asked while you inspected the cup.

“This punch tastes… funny.” You replied.

“Hmm, I remember tasting this before coming here.” You said. As soon as you did though, you let out a hiccup and a cloud surrounded you.

“Oh no…” Grim said as he saw what was going on.

“What’s happening?” Ruggie asked the furball. Before he could answer, the cloud had disappeared and what was left were your clothes.

“Wh-What?! Where’s (Y/N)?” Ruggie asked frantically. As soon as he did though, your clothes were shuffling about. Now, everyone’s eyes were on your clothes. After a few seconds of shuffling, a (H/C) mouse had poked its head out from the clothes.

Ruggie and Grim just stared at you as Ace and Deuce were conflicted. They were glad that the potion had worked but it had worked on the wrong person. Grim had sniffed the glass of punch which you took a sip from.

“Fgnaaaa! This punch was spiked!” The furball said. “The smell of cheese is strong!”

Ace and Deuce were fearing for their lives at that moment. Was the smell so strong that Grim could figure it out?

“What do we do Ace?” Deuce whispered to Ace.

“I don’t know! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” The latter responded.

“So, what was it supposed to be like?” A new voice had asked. Ace and Deuce froze for they knew this voice all too well. The two Heartslabyul dorm members slowly turned their heads to see their original target looking down at them with his hands on his waist.

“Care to explain?” Ruggie asked the two first-years. Grim heard the commotion and went to check it out.

“Ace? Deuce? What’re you doing here?” Grim asked his two friends.

“Ahh… We…” Ace started but Deuce had cut him off.

“We tried to pull a prank on Bucchi-senpai but (Y/N) fell for it instead!” Ace almost smacked his partner.

“Oh… So that was why you spiked the punch eh?” Ruggie asked the two Heartslabyul boys.

While the three were settling their ‘business’, you were left with Grim. Grim was inspecting you, very closely. To you, it looked like he was going to eat you, being a cat-like raccoon and all. You were literally shaking with fear and ran for your life in a blink of an eye.

Grim was absolutely dumbfounded as he stared at your small figure which was slowly disappearing from his view.

“Uh, guys?” Said Grim, catching the attention of Ruggie who was holding Ace by his collar, Deuce holding back Ruggie and Ace who was readying his magic pen to fire any spells at the upperclassman.

“WHAT?!” All three shouted back at the furball.

“(Y/N)’s gone.” And everyone just stared at your clothes for a moment. They blinked once, twice, thrice before coming to their senses.

“We have to find her!” Deuce said to the other three.

“We better start now, who knows where could she be!” Ruggie said and the four set off to find you.

~End of Part 1~

[forever-rogue]

Honey & Velvet - Part 6

A/N: We love a little cat and mouse game, don’t we? Either way, enjoy. Once you get to the end, you’ll know what happens next chapter ;) If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know, and as always, feedback and comments are always welcome! xx

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: none really, sexual tension (dot dot dot)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

After Maxwell had left your office, you gave it a few moments before storming out and attempting to track him down and to make him atone for what he had just done. But he was long gone; your mind had taken just enough time to make its mind up to give him an easy escape. Sighing, your shoulders slumped as you let ran a hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Y/N?” you were snapped back into reality by the sound of Adina’s concerned voice, as she looked up at you with a confused expression etched on her features. Plastering on the best smile you could muster, one most accurately described as your customer service best, you feigned innocence, “what the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” your voice was about an octave higher than normal as you turned to go back to your office, “where did he go?”

“Mhmm?” she’d already pointedly made the decision not to question you, especially as of late and her focus was already back on her paperwork.

“Maxwell,” you hissed through gritted teeth, loathing the bit of longing that seemed to seep its way into his name, “where did Maxwell Lord go?”

“Oh,” she peered up at your over her glasses, trying her best to keep off the little smirk that threatened to bubble up. She was slowly, but surely, putting two and two together. Not that it was particularly difficult at this point, subtly wasn’t your (or Maxwell’s) specialty, “he asked for directions to the restroom as he was leaving. Dunno where he went after that.”

You inhaled sharply at the revelation, inadvertently picturing him in your mind. You could imagine him stalking into the secluded bathroom, locking the door behind him as leaned against the cool tile of the wave, taking care of the…small problem you had created. You wondered what he sounded like while he worked himself to the point of no return, if he was vocal, if your name rolled off his lips as he spilled into his hand.

But no.

You couldn’t (and wouldn’t) dwell on that idea too much. If you did, you might completely lose any sense of self collection that remained and resort to doing the same thing to yourself. Biting the inside of your cheek to control yourself, you gave her a swift nod before stepping back inside your office and slamming the door. 

The nerve. The absolute nerve of that man to walk into your office and pull such a stunt. But…then again, perhaps it was only fair after what happened over the weekend. It had been an accident, more or less, but it you weren’t quite sure that it warranted the little assault he had just committed. To stand him up outside of the boardroom was one thing, a light snub at best, but for him to make it personal and come into your office like a loose cannon? That was a whole different story.

But you had kissed him first.

That was besides the point you reminded yourself. You never would have pushed yourself on him like that if he hadn’t started it. You were…just trying to finish things. 

Sure. You could live with that interpretation of things, even though it was only half true at best. 

You flopped down in your chair and sighed. It was going to be hard to focus on anything else for the remainder of the day. All you could think about were his lips on yours, all over your chest, how they’d felt surprisingly…soft. Gentle even. And right. You’d half expected him to be as decent of a kisser as a limp fish, but he was pleasantly good. He knew his way around your body already. Maybe you’d just been desperate? 

That must have been it. But it couldn’t have been desperation…could it? You’d been getting plenty of attention lately, mainly from Ben, who you were surprisingly on good terms with for once, so you weren’t exactly touch starved at the moment. So that meant…it really could have only left one reasonable answer. 

Absolutely not. At least that’s what you told yourself in your head. You were not attracted to the spoiled brat of a man that sported last season’s suits and had hair the color of decaying corn. There was absolutely nothing attractive about him; you’d rather admit you found a squished slug handsome before you said the same about Maxwell Lord. 

And yet…he was the one your thoughts kept drifting back to. He was the you thought about as you had brought yourself to orgasm late at night; his name was the only you allowed yourself to whisper. It was his ring clad hand that had been around your throat, turning you on much more than you thought about possible.

“Fuck,” you sighed at yourself, at your foolishness, under your breath. Tossing your head back, you stared at the messy pattern of the cork on your office ceiling, hoping it would provide you with some sort of answer. But it didn’t; instead you stared and stared, and the longer you looked, the more it felt like it was mocking you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the same one Maxwell had stood in front of not long before. Pulling yourself up, you walked over to it, and started to fix your hair. It was a mess, locks out of place and wild, but you made swift work of straightening it back and making it look semi decent. Not like you’d just been on your back practically begging a man to fuck you. 

The buttons on your blouse were mismatched, once again, a common theme in your life lately. Shaking your head at yourself you completely undid the whole thing and let it hang open for a moment, studying the upper half of your torso. The delicate skin of your breasts, collarbones and neck were flushed still, and the ghosts of bites and nibbles were already popping up, colorful hues of blue and purple. That fucker had really done a number in such a short period of time. While you rued how hard it would be to cover up in the coming days, sure they would attract some unwanted attention…you weren’t as mad as you though you would be.

They served as a reminder that while you had been the one who initiated the fervent slew of kisses, he’d been just as eager. He’s been just as eager to touch you, to feel your soft skin, to finally kiss you. Your soft moans had been like sweet music to ears, and will he would have gladly taken you then and there, he’d done everything in his power to hold back. And it had been a huge struggle, but somehow he’d managed. But still…he’d kissed you. He hadn’t fought you off, or completely denied you. That had to count for something, right?

Just a taste for now. It would have to satiate both of you for now. That’s what he reminded himself while his hands had been all over your body. Just a taste.

The rewards of him waiting, restraining himself would be the sweetest reward of all. At least that’s what he figured. 

You slowly put yourself back together, making sure the buttons of your blouse were aligned, an irritated groan living your lips as the phone on your desk began to ring. You weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone earlier, you most certainly weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone now.

Before picking it up, you let out a small fuck, fuck, fuck of frustration. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and you could go back to the afternoon of daydreaming you now had planned.

“Yes?” it sounded more defeated than you cared to admit. 

“I’ve got Ben for you, if you’re available,” Adina’s tone was colored with bemusement, almost as if she knew the exact predicament you were in. Hells, she probably did. Half of your office probably did by now, “and uh, he wanted me to specifically mention that it was just business related.”

“Of course,” you turned to sit back and kicked your legs up on your desk, “go ahead and put him through.”

“Is…everything okay, boss?” she was desperate for you to spill more details but wasn’t about to push…not more than necessary anyway, “it seems like you’ve been…preoccupied lately.”

“If only that was the half of it,” you rubbed your brow, “men are a tricky situation.”

“That’s why I only date women,” she joked and you had to admit it had its own appeal, “but don’t let me influence your decision. Men always say that women are so complicated, but I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

“I concur wholeheartedly,” you laughed quietly, “I guess I’d better talk to Ben and see what he wants.”

“Good luck,” she snorted with laughter before you heard the click of a button and Ben was on the other line. You heard about half a breath before you could practically see the smirk on his face. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Benjamin?” you couldn’t even lie and say you were annoyed to hear from him. After you’d reached your little…whatever you wanted to call it, you felt better. Like you could actually maintain a civil friendship with him, “okay wait, how bad and sarcastic did that sound?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Hit me.”

“I’d wager a solid eight,” he laughed as you groaned, “I don’t take these things personally. I’m not offended, and my heart will go on.”

“Ahh, what a man,” you let some silence hang in the air for a moment, drumming your fingers along on edge of your desk, “what’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask,” he admitted and it was your turn to laugh at him, “it’s nothing big, but I’d appreciate your help.”

“Alright, alright, I suppose that’s only fair,” you had zero clue as to what he could need help with you. He seemed like the type of guy that had it all handled, that wouldn’t dare to ask for help, “what’s this favor then?”

“I have a gala I need to attend this Friday,” he explained and you leaned forward in your seat, trying to figure out what he was getting at, “our company is one of the sponsors for the center that’s throwing the gala and therefore its prudent that we attend and I realize it will likely be a dull affair and-”

“Ben,” you cut him off mid sentence before he could stammer on further, “you’re rambling. Please cut to the chase.”

“Will you be my date to the gala?” it was a rushed question, and it caught you off guard. You hadn’t been out in public with Ben in what seemed like eons; your first concern was what would people think? But then again…did it really matter what they thought? No. No one’s opinion mattered, not as long as you were satisfied with the truth, “please?”

“You want to be seen in public with me?” you joked, almost immediately having made up your mind, already trying to think of what dress you would wear.

“You make it sound like torture. Is the idea that repulsive to you?” you could tell he was joking, but there was a small part of him that was wondering if you were actually going to say yes.

“Oh the contrary,” you reassured him and there was a small sigh of relief on the other end, “I’ll go with you. I’ll be your date.”

“Perfect-”

“On one condition,” of course there was a stipulation attached.

“Name it.”

“Friends only,” you insisted. You wanted to set clear boundaries, to make sure he knew that you weren’t interested in anything else with him, “no sex. No…whatever else. And we don’t even pretend it’s a date.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. You were a reasonable woman for the most part and it was a condition he could easily agree to, “saving yourself for someone else? Mr. Lord perhaps?”

“Oh my - goodbye, Ben,” you wanted to work that little smirk you knew was on his face off. He chuckled on the other end, clearly pleased with his little comment, “this is over for now. Send me details and I’ll see you Friday night.”

“So I was right-”

“Goodbye Ben-”

“You didn’t say no!”

“Ben,” you slammed the phone back into the cradle and let out a long sigh. Well, at least you had plans for a Friday night instead of moping around at home. Plus it would give you an opportunity to go and dress up. Now that was something you could get behind. Even if you were picky when it came to men, you liked to give them something to look at. They could always look but couldn’t touch.

Besides, despite how much you tried to fight it, you knew you were on the prowl for someone else. You knew, at one point or another, things would come to a head and one of you would fully snap. You didn’t know when, or where, but something deep within you knew that it would happened. 

And you vowed to break Maxwell Lord before he could break you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was too much. You knew it was as soon as you had spotted it hanging on the rack at Bergdorf Goodman’s. Ben had told that the affair would be formal, but not overly so, and had insisted that whatever you had at home would probably suffice. 

When you’d glanced through your closet, nothing had struck your fancy, nothing screamed pick me, pick me. Even though it didn’t really matter, and you’d be most likely spend the evening a space full of older people who would gloss you over, you still wanted…something special. You’d all but slammed your closet doors shut and made up your mind to go shopping. There was nothing but disappoint to be found in several stores, but at one of your last stops, you had found it. The dress you had been searching for, despite not being consciously aware of it.

But something, deep within you had caused you to gravitate towards the glittering gown. Something even more primal had compelled you to purchase it. You didn’t even bother to try it on, not wanting to waste time in the overly posh store and feel the judgment of the aging women that worked the registers. They were often the worst; they’d try and up sell the most expensive things and then call you a two bit whore as soon as you left.

But with this, you didn’t care. You knew all eyes would be on you and for one you night, you welcomed it.

By the time Ben had arrived to pick you up, you were looking at yourself in the mirror, topping your look off with the oxblood red color. It was indescribably eye catching and hung on your frame perfectly. It was a strappy number, pale pink in color, and glittering at every angle. It left very little to the imagination, but was just enough to be socially appropriate. You, honestly, weren’t planning on getting anything out of this whole evening. You just wanted to feel good…sexy even. That wasn’t a crime after all, right?

“Holy shit…” Ben let out a sigh somewhere between exasperation and pleasure as he met you at his car when the time. Flashing him an innocent smile, you slid into the backseat and followed suit, “I’m pretty sure I mentioned that this was…casual, more or less?”

“You did,” you admitted, feigning innocence, “but you can never be overdressed, can you?”

“I suppose not,” he shook his head, but gave you a gentle nudge with his knee, “if you’re not going to be the death of me, you’ll probably break a few necks when the old geezers get a look at you.”

“Tragic,” you put a hand on your forehead and sighed dramatically.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Conversation with Ben was pleasant, and by the time you arrived, you were feeling strangely at ease. That was until the valet helped you out of the car and you surveyed the swarm of other guests that were in attendance that evening. There were more people than you had anticipated, and a fair number that didn’t look over the hill.

But then your eyes landed on one particular guest, and your heart nearly stopped, plummeting into the bottom of your stomach. It couldn’t be…could it? Of all the people in all the world that had to be there, it had to be him; the golden haired man that had been haunting your every waking thought for the last several weeks.

Ben was behind you, attempting to straighten his bow tie when he noticed your sudden hesitation, the tension in your shoulders, and grim expression on your face, “what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen-”

“Maxwell Lord?” you sighed as your turned back to him, raising an eyebrow in question, “yeah, because I did. What the hell is he doing here?!”

“I-I had no clue,” he insisted, looking around as he tried to spot him in the crowd. His face turned into a mask of worry and confusion; you knew he was being honest. Ben was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, and you knew he’d never do something that low to you, “I swear it. If I had known he’d be here, I never would have asked you to come.”

“Ben, sorry, it’s just…” you trailed off as you tried to figure out how to convey exactly what you were feeling to him. How were you supposed to explain, and appear rational and sane, to someone that while you loathed Maxwell (more or less), you also harbored a deep, burning desire for him?

“Do you want to go?” he put his hand on the small of your back, almost as if trying to shield from you being seen.

“No, really, it’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and deal with it,” you promised, linking you arm through his, “but if you see him anywhere near me, warn me so I can run and hide.”

“Running from your demons?”

“Oh no,” you insisted, “Maxwell isn’t my demon…he’s something much more…I can’t describe.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, a little smirk on his face, as he started to lead you inside, “that sounds about right. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself in, silly girl?”

“I wish I knew the half of it,” you sighed heavily, “I wish I knew.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The evening had been going…surprisingly well. You’d managed to avoid your friend finding solace in tucking yourself behind Ben and remaining out of the center of attention. Normally you’d be out and mingling, enjoying the free flowing champagne and good company. But this evening - you remained almost silent, and pretty much as sober as you were quiet. Being the kind gentleman he was, Ben had promised you both make an exit as soon as it became socially acceptable. To say you were counting down the minutes would have been an understatement.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” you whispered into Ben’s ear, hoping for a quick there and back trip. He turned and gave you a nod, a questioning look on his face.

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“It’ll be fine,” you promised, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance, “it’s the ladies room after all, I think it’d be foolish for anyone to try anything there.”

He nodded as you walked away, keeping your eyes training on the floor so you didn’t draw too much attention to yourself. It was difficult with your current state of dress however; maybe you should have stuck to something more simple and muted. 

But just before you could reach the reprieve of the privacy of the rest room, you felt a hand on your forearm, trying to stop you and get your attention. You froze in silent horror as you instantly knew who it was. You thought about yanking your arm out of grasp and running away, but instead, you remained there, waiting for his next move. It was all up to him now. Tugging on your hand slowly, you allowed him to turn you around so you were facing him. For once you were surprised to find an almost pleasant expression on his face.

“Miss L/N,” his voice was dripping with honey as he gave you the once over, taking in the dress and how it looked on you. To say it was a pleasing sight to him was a far cry from the truth, “you look positively…stunning.”

For once you didn’t feel like you needed to make a smart remark or give him some sort of witty push back, “Maxwell. Thank you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here this evening,” he dropped your hand and crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning against wall of the quiet hallway. You were both thankful that no one was around and you were more or less secluded, but part of you wished that Ben was there. Maybe you should have let him come.

“I could say the same for you,” you gave him your most dazzling smile as you got ready to turn around and head into the bathroom. You were definitely going to need a breather after that. You already felt hot and flushed from the most minute of touches.

“Here with Mr. Vasquez again,” he commented and you stopped, shrugging your shoulders.

“He’s a friend,” you insisted, feeling the need to prove yourself, like you somehow needed him to understand that. Why? Why did it really matter at the end of the day what Maxwell Lord thought? 

“A friend,” he remained unconvinced, tilting his head slightly, only working to anger you further. He just had such a way about him, “and does your friend knew what happened to your neck?”

Your hand instinctively went to the flesh of your throat as you trailed a few fingers over it. The marks he had left all over you had been fading throughout the week, but a few particularly stubborn ones had proven to be a monumental challenge to try and cover. They were still peeking through every so slightly. 

“He hasn’t asked and I haven’t volunteered the information,” you narrowed your eyes at him and he let out a soft laugh, “does that amuse you so?”

“Indeed it does,” he took a step closer and suddenly there was very little space between the two of you. You could smell his warm cologne, and tried to look anywhere but him, but your eyes found his. Somehow you were still just as drawn to him know as you had always had been, “you practically throw yourself at me and then hide it? What a shame.”

“You weren’t exactly fighting me off,” you reminded him as nodded slowly. He brought a hand to your face and ran his thumb over your cheekbone. Your breath hitched at the surprisingly gentle touch, “y-you want this just as much as me.”

“I do,” he admitted and you felt a small victory run through your veins at his revelation. He did want you, which he had made very clear, but hearing it like was…something else. It was like you’d just established some sort of common ground. He leaned closer and your lips were inches apart, if you leaned forward even slightly you’d be able to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him, every part of you was desperate to feel his touch again, “do you have any clue how hard it is coming here and seeing you look like that? How everyone’s eyes are on you?”

“Maybe,” you smirked slightly, wetting your lips as you stared at him, “and what about it?”

“I want to rip out the heart of every single man whose eyes have lingered on you, even if it was just a moment too long,” his large hand was on your cheek, lips pressed to you ear as he dropped his voice so only you could hear. It sent a delightful shiver down your spine in both wicked anticipation and a slight bit of fear.

“Oh?” you teased, turning your head ever so slightly to press the faintest of kisses to his cheek, “and just what are you doing to about it, Maxwell?”

“I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to you,” he trailed a few kisses along your jaw before stopping at your lips and staring into your eyes. You felt like he could see into your soul, and suddenly you didn’t feel like the strong, confident woman you had been playing at all night; you felt vulnerable and weak. Letting out a soft breath, you finally managed to regain some composure.

“And just who do I belong to?” you knew what he was saying, what he was attempting to get at, but you still wanted to hear it from his mouth. He put his hands on either side of your face, keeping your gaze trained on it; it was firm and commanding, but not too harsh or rough.

“You are mine,” he stated and you slowly found yourself nodding in acquiescence. You were his; he had instilled something in you that kept pulling you back in long ago. And here you were, at the precipice of giving into him, “and everyone will know it.”  

Where was the brat that you wanted to be? Where was the woman that vowed she would not bow, bend, or break to the will of one man? Where the was the woman that would never give into Maxwell Lord?

You didn’t know her. At least not in the moment. At least not when the familiar fluttering had started in your belly and the throbbing between your legs increased. 

He brought his hand to your throat and pressed ever so slightly, causing your lips to part with a surprised gasp. Then, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours, a contented sound leaving his mouth, “say it. I need to hear you say it. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you agreed quietly, “I am yours.”

And then he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you with a hunger and urgency than you had never felt before. And you…gave in. Just like that, just like you had been wanting to you, even if you were loathe to admit to yourself.

But just like that, you were all for him. 

So you kissed him back, and wrapped your arms his neck, relinquishing control to him. It was frenzied tango, slowly crescendoing into something more, and you were so lost in what you were doing, you didn’t even remember where you were or what you had originally intended on doing. Until someone cleared their throat, and you pulled apart, pushing Maxwell away from you.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” Ben’s face was a mixture of surprise and concern as he spotted you. Once you’d been gone for some time he’d come going for you, just to make sure you were okay, “is…everything alright?”

“Ben,” you just knew you must have looked a sight but tried to play it off, “I…ugh, yes, everything’s fine.”

“I can see that,” he snorted lightly with laughter and Maxwell tried to smooth out his suit, “I’ll just wait for you and we can leave whenever you want.”

“Actually,” you surprised even yourself with your next words, “you can go without me. I’ll…be okay.”

Max raised an eyebrow at you, but kept his expression neutral as Ben gawked but nodded, giving you a small wave before turning the corner and heading out. You didn’t need to expand further. 

“Are you…sure about this?” he searched your face as if to make sure you were positive. As much of an asshole as he could be, he wasn’t going to take this any further without you being fully willing. You turned to him and nodded, biting your lower lip. 

“Yes,” you said as you turned to him, “I want this. I want you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[isaaccecilbryant]

A Murderer’s Son

Tales of Crestoria Drabble Words: 3,975 Genre: Angst Written to provide the backdrop for Isaac’s Cresty AU. I hope you all enjoy! If Regal ends up being in the Cresty plot anywhere that will throw a wrench into this, but I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

In Isaac’s earliest memories he never had a mother, just a father. There was no memory of a mother because she had died when giving birth to Isaac, but he didn’t know that until he was a bit older. The memories that Isaac did have where of a father who showed Isaac so much love and kindness but also hid his own sadness. The few nights that he crept out of bed as a boy for a glass of water and found his father crying alone in the living room were burned into his memory. Why was his father so sad when they had each other? As a young child Isaac couldn’t understand, but as he grew older Isaac understood it was because his mother was gone. When Regal did speak of his late wife to his son it was with a bittersweet tone. He���d loved her dearly and had so many fond memories of her, but her absence still stung.

It was around the age of ten that the boy’s life shifted. A new woman appeared in his life and she started staying at Regal’s side. She had reddish-brown hair tied into a bun and a kind smile that made her freckles dance. The woman was younger than his father but was compassionate and motherly. Her hands were so gentle when she would hug Isaac or stroke his head. As time passed Isaac noticed the nights where his father cried alone occurred less often. Was it because the woman was at their home more frequently? One day Isaac noticed all traces of sadness had left his father. Regal no longer was forcing a smile for his boy or masking his pain—it all had been eased and taken away.

“Father, will Miss Chevre be my new mom?”

Regal was surprised by the question from across the breakfast table. “Perhaps.” He answered shyly, no match for the bold 11 year old. “Only if you’d be happy to have her as your mother.”

Isaac rested his chin on his fists like he’d seen adult do. “She’s as kind as a mother.” Isaac reasoned. “But my mom was still the one who gave birth to me. I wouldn’t be here without my mom.” There may be no memories, but Regal shared all the stories he could of Isaac’s mother. To Isaac she felt like one of the mothers from fairy tales. Perfectly kind and loving, someone so tangible to others that you wanted to reach out to her too. Yet, just like the mothers in fairy tales she wasn’t quite real to Isaac either. His mother had fulfilled her role in the story and made her exit now, but the effects of her time there were still felt. “Hmmm…can both of them be my mom?” Isaac’s small face was scrunched up as he puzzled over it.

Regal reached out and tussled his boy’s hair and smiled. “Of course. Your mother is still your mother, even though she’s not with us anymore. And Chevre would love you as a child of her own.”

Isaac nodded at that and put a hand over his father’s before it could be withdrawn. He loved feeling his father’s large hand on his head. “Then, if my mother is ‘my mom’, then Miss Chevre can be just ‘Mom’. Because ‘my mom’ gave birth to me so she’s mom only to me, but Miss Chevre can be a mom to others.”

Regal chuckled at how Isaac reasoned it all out and rubbed his thumb over the boy’s head. “Then that’s how it will be. However, I haven’t asked her to marry me yet, so please wait until after to call Chevre ‘mom’.”

“I won’t! I don’t want to ruin the surprise!” Isaac promised with a big smile, but his dad just laughed more and Isaac wasn’t sure why.

                                                       ~ * * * ~

At age 16 was leading his father into the woods as he burst with excitement. “I wonder what Mom has planned for us?” Isaac called back to Regal.

“We’ll find out when we get there.”

Chevre said she’d planned a surprise for them out in the forest. Isaac was hoping for a picnic. The weather was perfect for one and the nearby forest was filled with beautiful flora and funa. The odd monster that roamed it was relatively small and harmless, save one species, so no one feared the woods.

“Dad! This is it! The clearing with the wild flowers! But Mom’s not here.”

“It could be she’s running late.” It wasn’t uncommon for Chevre to lose track of time, but she thankfully was never more than a few minutes behind. “Since we have a moment, why not some sparring?”

“You mean hand-to-hand, don’t you?” Isaac sighed playfully. “Come one Dad, the sword is the only weapon for me. It’s the weapon of the gentleman.”

“It doesn’t hurt for you to know to fight with your hands. It means you’ll never be without a weapon.”

“Oh fine.” Isaac untied his sword and set it aside gingerly. “What about you? It’s not really fighting ‘bare handed’ if you use your knuckle duster.”

“There are times when your strength alone isn’t enough for a foe. There’re monsters in the world stronger than you or I can imagine.”

“I’m glad there’s none here.” Isaac said as he started trading light blows with Regal.

“Indeed. But, don’t you want to go out and see the world?”

“Not terribly. Everything I want is here.” Isaac slipped in an uppercut, but it was deflected with Regal hitting him with a soft body blow. “Keep your wrists straight, you don’t need to curve them.” Regal corrected. “That’s a bad habit, even in swordplay.”

“Got it.” They reset and went a few more rounds with their conversation drifting from Isaac’s late mom to current events with sprinklings of advice. They stopped when giggles broke their conversation.

“Chevre.” Regal looked past Isaac and saw she was already set up with a picnic for them.

“Mom! You’re as quiet as a mouse. How long were you there?”

“Long enough to watch you too.” Chevre smiled from the blanket, surrounded by the different foods she’d packed for Regal and Isaac. “Sorry I’m so late, I had too much on the go in the kitchen.”

“No, mom,” Isaac plopped down and took a plate “this is amazing! Thank you for making so much!” There were different favourites of all of theirs scattered around, fried tofu, several types of sandwiches and shepherds’ pie, plus more!

“It looks wonderful,” Regal gave his thanks and a kiss once he sat down. Chevre was beaming and offering food and tea the two. Her cooking wasn’t quite on par with Regal’s, but hers had a distinct homey-ness to it that Isaac loved. Regal’s was amazing but it could be too grand at times. Sometimes boiled veggies with dill was better than sautéed vegetables.

Isaac took a large bite of cake and ‘mmmmmhed’ as the icing melted in his mouth. As he reached for his cup he saw it was out of tea. “Mom, could you pour me some more tea please?”

“Certainly.” Chevre turned behind her for the thermos. She gasped.

“What is it?” Regal and Isaac peered around her.

A monster had coiled around the thermos and was staring down Chevre with its little yellow slits for eyes. Everyone froze as they took in the dark red markings on its scaly body and the large black, hooked claw on each of its forefeet. A keres had come to their picnic. “Don’t move.” Regal whispered as they all kept their eyes on the monster. While it was not difficult to kill due to its small size it did pack a nightmarish venom that slowly killed a person. Isaac thought back a few months ago when one man tried to catch one to make an antidote but got bitten. It took a full month for him to pass away, and each day he could be heard screaming in agony from his home. Isaac’s eyes darted to Chevre. Her body was shaking as the Keres coiled tighter around the thermos. Could Isaac run for his sword that was still with the flowers and cut the keres down before it struck? He glanced towards the field---

“Ahh!” Chevre reeled back. Her arm was flailed wildly. The keres had taken hold of her hand.

“Chevre!” Regal jumped to her side and grabbed the keres by the neck.

Isaac ran for his sword.

Where was it? Where had he set it down?

Flowers were brushed aside as Isaac frantically searched. He needed his sword! Chevre’s cries and sobs echoed through the clearing and tore at his heart. Isaac’s hand finally brushed against metal and pulled his sword from the flower. “Hold it still!” Isaac shouted as he ran back. Regal knew what to do and moved Chevre’s arm and the keres so Isaac had a clear shot. In a swing the monster was cut open and its jaw let go of Chevre’s hand. It writhed and screeched on in pain, body half cut off, as blood pooled on the blanket. Seeing the size of the fangs it had dug into Chevre made Isaac’s stomach churn.

“Mom, are you okay?” He asked, leaving the monster to die.

She just whimpered and held her hand. Regal was cradling her in his arms but wore a grim expression. Isaac saw her pallid hand was already turning purple, and it was spreading up her wrist. The poison would spread fast, and they’d lost so much time with Isaac looking for his sword…

Chevre grimaced, fighting back tears and screams. How could this happen to her?

“Mom…”

“It hurts! Regal, please don’t—don’t leave me like this!”

Regal tightened his grip on Chevre, wrestling with himself on what to do.

“Dad! What’s going to happen to mom?”

Regal met his son’s terrified gaze and then looked to his beloved. He couldn’t leave her to stuffer such a painful death, but what other options were there?

“Please…just kill me now.” Chevre bit her lip and drawing blood. “I—I can’t…” She sobbed, “I can’t hold on.”

Isaac’s vision blurred from tears at her request. They were supposed to kill her? “We could never! Mom I--”

“Isaac,” Regal cut him off, “look away.” His head hung low, eyes hidden from Isaac.

“But Dad!”

“Now! I don’t want you to see this.”

Isaac sucked in a breath. He looked to Chevre. Her breathing was erratic and despite the grip Regal had on her, she was shaking violently. “Mom…”

“Please! Regal!” The sudden loudness of her voice stabbed both of them deep in their hearts.

“Isaac! Look away!” Regal ordered again. “Now!”

Isaac took a few unsteady steps away but dropped to his knees and covered his ears. His mother was dying, and his father had to kill her. This was so messed up! Couldn’t they got back ten minutes to when everything was bright and sunny again? Try as he might, the sound of Chevre’s labored breath reached his ears, as she pleaded with Regal, saying she loved him until it all became a mindless ramble.

“Isaac!” Chevre called out. “I love you! As my own son, I love you!”

He doubled over, hands still over his ears, wishing for one last hug from her. She was the only mother he physically knew. After today she’d be gone from his life, just like his biological mother. His father would fall back into depression, and this time Isaac would tumble in right behind. “Mom, I—” He started to say but ‘I love you too, as my own mother I love you too!’ wouldn’t come forward. His throat ached and it felt like the air had been punched out of him.

Isaac could make out the faint rumble of his father’s voice. He was saying a last goodbye but Isaac couldn’t make out the words. The flowers at his feet wavered and bent as more tears washed over Isaac’s vision.

Then he heard it.

A sickening snapping sound.

Quick and painless.

In one second she was gone.

She was gone and Isaac would never hear her voice again as she read to him, or sang songs with him, or even greeted him when he came in the house.

“Hnggg…Haaaaa!! Moooom!!” Isaac brought his arms around himself, digging his fingers as he tried to hug himself. Why did this have to happen to her of all people?! Why?!

Regal was moving around behind him, Isaac could sense it even while curled into a ball. Isaac didn’t want to think about what his father was doing. He didn’t want to think about anything. If the earth opened its jowls and swallowed him whole he wouldn’t fight back. If he suddenly died too—

“Isaac.”

His father’s hand was on his shoulder. Turning his head Isaac not only was the picnic packed up, but Chevre’s body was lying in the flowers. Aside from her purple arm, it would look like a woman napping in the field.

Regal’s face was pale and his expression tired. “We need to go back to town and get the embalmer.”

“…Right.” Isaac’s head drooped as he followed Regal back to town, each step dragging along. It had to be a nightmare. Tomorrow he’d wake up and everything would be back to normal, and none of this would be real.

“Isaac.” Regal’s voice cut through Isaac’s thoughts. “Do you hate me for doing what I did?” There was uncertainty in his voice, and so much shame.

Isaac opened his mouth but was voiceless for a moment. “No.” He whispered eventually. There was more to say, more he needed to tell his dad that he understood, that he didn’t want Mom to suffer. However the words just weren’t there yet. No way could Isaac sort his mind out after what just happened.

“I see.”

And there…the window had shut on Isaac’s opportunity to say more. Had his father been hoping Isaac would say something specific? Isaac couldn’t ponder it. Those thoughts were ejected from his mind, slipping through the slick and squishy crevasses of his brain like a worm through mud. Only one thing persisted in his mind.

I want Mom.

As they neared the town a questioned bubbled up, reaching the surface and breaking with Isaac’s voice all too quickly. “Why did we leave her behind?”

Regal stopped in his tracks. The hand holding the picnic basket now was in a white knuckled grip. “People tend to jump to conclusions, and vision orbs only lend to the problem.”

As Regal turned to Isaac slightly, he caught a trace of his father’s expression. His eyes were dark and filled with sorrow. It was out of place against the scene of him holding a basket on a bright and sunny day.

“However…no matter how it is judged, what I did doesn’t change. I…I…killed…”

“Dad.” Isaac ran up and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s okay. If you hadn’t she’d have suffered worse.” A whole month that man had suffered. He lived alone, so he had no family to make the hard choice that Regal had to for Chevre.

The tears pushed back into Isaac’s eyes. Had her suffering been quick enough? Was she able to have some peace before she died?

A flash of light drew both of their attention to the town center.

“That was vison central.” Isaac started for the epicenter with Regal close behind. A crowd was already gathered around the large orb.

[“Please, Regal!! I’m begging you!”]

Isaac’s chest tightened and constricted his heart. It was a recording of his father and Chevre.

[Regal—You can’t! You can’t. Just please!”]

It was from when Chevre was rambling. Out of context it sounded like Regal was threatening to kill her. Vision Central finally showed an image, the moment Regal snapped Chevre’s neck.

Bile jumped up from Isaac’s stomach and he struggled to hold it back. All the delicious food and cake he’d eaten earlier was gone. The acidic, putrid taste of bile erased it all as it spilled from his mouth and over his fingers.

Something then landed on his foot. The basket.

Regal looked shell-shocked as he still stared at vision central. Hadn’t it been enough that he had to commit a deed so unthinkable? Why did he have to watch it again?

As the crowd murmured with contempt Regal hissed and clutched his hand. A black mark in the shape of a vision orb seared on to the back of his hand.

“How could someone kill her like that?”

“Brutal. He has no mercy.”

“Didn’t his first wife die too? I bet he killed her too.”

“Murderer! Murderer!”

Isaac watched as his father shrank under the gaze of the townspeople, no one caring the pain and sorrow he was showing.

“It didn’t happen like that!” Isaac shouted out. “Mom got bitten by a keres! Dad was just—”

“We cleared out tons of keres weeks ago! How could she have got bitten?!”

“Covering for a criminal, how despicable!”

“That murderer deserves the same!”

“Just die!”

“Die!”

“Die!”

Isaac lost his footing as he staggered back. They weren’t listening. They didn’t care if they knew what happened or not. He looked up from the ground to his father, hoping Regal found the strength to stand his ground.

…Yet Regal’s head hung low as the beaten husk of a man stood in his place.

“Dad! Don’t—Don’t listen to them!”

A set of flashes and the inhuman sound of enforcers arriving drained the blood from Isaac’s face. No. No, no no no NO!

Regal stepped towards them.

“DON’T!” Isaac grabbed his arm. “Don’t go with them! I can’t lose you and Mom!”

Wordlessly Regal pried his son’s hand off. “I killed her. The circumstances do nothing to change that.” His voice sounded dead.

How could his dad say that? He of all people knew why they had to perform a mercy kill for Chevre. Did Regal regret it that badly? Was the guilt of that sin too much for him to bear? An image of him trying to kill Chevre flashed through Isaac’s mind. The horror and self-loathing from simply imagining it shook Isaac, and knocked him out of the phantasm. Yet, he continued to jump back in to see what it was his father felt. And it was hellish.

Isaac grabbed for Regal’s arm again. His father’s arm felt weak in his grip and Regal noticeably struggled to remove Isaac’s hand.

“Isaac. What I did in unforgivable. I’ve accepted the judgement cast on me.” Regal pushed past his son, though Isaac was right after him, grabbing and clinging to him like a young child trying to stop their parent from leaving.

“Dad! No! Please no!”

Each time Regal brushed him off until he stood before the two enforcers.

The crowd surged around them, all wanting to see the murderer brought to justice. People shoved closer to get a good look, all shouting condemnation and profanity at Regal. When Isaac went to grab his father again several hands held him back.

“Don’t interfere with the enforcers!”

“He’s a murderer, just let him die!”

“Why would you want to save a monster like him?”

Isaac struggled against him but felt his stamina fading. “But—he didn’t! He’s my dad.” Tears leaked out, burning Isaac’s cheeks as they fell. “Dad! Dad!”

The robe of the enforcer lifted as it reached towards Regal.

“DAAAAAAD!”

In instant they were gone. Isaac blinked and missed the moment his father vanished from the world. One enforcer still remained, but any trace of Regal and the other had disappeared entirely. The only thing that remained of Regal Bryant was his son.

“No. No…” The ground came up hard under Isaac as he dropped to his knees and everything began shifting under him. “How could you?” People were cheering and boasting, so smug with their ‘justice’. “He didn’t…he didn’t have a choice. Why?” Looking at the face of the people he knew, people he’d grown up around, celebrating the death of his beloved father something in him snapped. “You’ll pay. I swear it, I’LL MAKE YOU ALL PAY!”

Fire burning in his eyes, Isaac was up and swinging fists at everyone in range. Men tried to hold him down but Isaac was a wild beast, thrashing out of their hands and knocking them back. “My father wasn’t a murderer!!”

Yet the words didn’t stop.

“How shameful…”

“If his father could kill in cold blood just what is the son capable of?”

“The apple never falls far from the tree.”

“The son of a murderer may as well be a murderer.”

Him too? He hadn’t done anything though…Why? “You’re all monsters!”

“You’re the monster!” Someone shouted back and held up their vision orb.

Isaac going into a frenzy appeared on vision central, screaming how he’d make everyone pay before beating on the people around him.

Voice started bombarding Isaac from inside his head.

“What is wrong with that boy?”

“What kind of parents would raise someone like him?”

“Wait…that hair colour. He’s the child of that murderer!”

“Murderer!”

“Killer!”

“Monster!”

Isaac covered his ears but it kept pouring in.

“Die!”

“Disappear!”

“Go to hell!”

A searing pain shot from his left hand. On the back a mark resembling a vision orb appeared—a Stain of Guilt--and the voices in his head grew louder.

“DIE!!” Was what they all demanded.

The enforcer that stayed behind now hovered towards Isaac.

“Get him!”

“Take him away!”

“Send him to hell!”

There was no mercy for Isaac. Every face in the crowd was an enemy out for blood. Was this all just a sport to them? A pastime to get riled up over to dull the boredom of daily life? Was the execution of Isaac and his father just for their enjoyment? Vision orbs…why did they exist? Who made them? This world was better off without them!

When the enforce was before Isaac he played submissively until the last second, grabbing a child and shoving them towards the enforcer. It dodged, not here to take away an innocent. People jumped back to avoid touching the flowing white and blue robes of the arbiter, shrieking about not touching it.

Isaac turned on his foot and ran, pushing through the crowd with a renewed energy and force. He wasn’t going to die here. He was going to rid this world of vision orbs and avenge his father, no matter what it cost!

He had little time, but Isaac needed to prepare if he was going to be on the run. His home was deserted now, all staff from the small manor in town with the others. Those traitors. Isaac could care less about them being out of the job with their master of the house dead. A bag was grabbed and packed with whatever he could grab from the kitchen. From his room Isaac took a few shirts and underwear. Lastly his father’s pocket watch and a book Chevre read to him were packed.

Isaac paused. His mom. What would he take to remember her by? They may never have met, but it wasn’t right to leave her out of it.

         “Dad, if I got my blue hair from you, what did I get from my mom?”

         “You inherited her best feature; her smile.”

It was a conversation Isaac had nearly forgotten, but there it was, right there with him just below the surface. “My mom, you’ve been there this whole time, haven’t you? Is this right?” Isaac blinked away the new tears that threatened to gather. “Is this what I should be doing?” If his mom loved Regal like Isaac did, then surely she would agree with his decision. He’d change this world by getting rid of the vision orbs and he’d do it with a smile on his face.

[arcticficialbanana]

I guess I’ll learn for myself

Title: I guess I’ll learn for myself; Chapter 1: Find somewhere Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Word Count: 6,151

Warnings: Slight unease on the part of the reader as she’s not sure what to in certain situations, but no other warnings really at this time.

A/N: [edited for grammar and context] Jack ends up alone in a park, until he sees you and follows you around. Because you have no family, you generally keep to yourself, and you are very independent, you see no harm in keeping Jack around for a while. Since you are kind hearted and good natured you take it upon yourself to take care of Jack as well.

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 Dean splashes water on his face and looks at Sam standing behind him in the mirror, “So what, we’re supposed to dedicate the rest of our lives to making sure nobody gets near the kid?” He growled.  “Dean, we’ve been through much worse.” Sam shrugs and shakes his head in exasperation, “We don’t even know if we CAN kill him, so why not protect him? If we abandon him, or worse yet if we try to kill him and lose his trust... there is no stopping what happens after that.”

 “Yeah. Well, we don’t live the family kind of lifestyle. We can’t spend every moment watching over him.” He clenches his hands around the edges of the sink and watches the water swirl down the drain. “And we may have been through much worse, but those weren’t 24 hour jobs, Sammy. We had help, we had mutual benefit, but now..” He grips the sink even harder, “They’re all dead.” He looks over his shoulder at Sam, eyes red and face hollow, “They’re all gone Sammy. We’ve got nobody left on our side.” He shuts the sink off and doesn’t bother with wiping his hands before walking out into the hallway.

 Sam looks around the room helplessly and lets out a breath of defeat. He follows after Dean, “That’s exactly why we should bring Jack to our side! We can make more family Dean!”  At that Dean turns sharply on his heel and gives Sam a warning glare, to which Sam puts up his hands in defense, “I’m not saying replace our family. You know that’s not what I mean. Let’s add more-just one more. A little can go a long way to keep our sanity.”  Dean looks at the floor and drops his shoulders. Sam starts walking toward him again so he wipes his nose with the back of his hand and continues into the living room.

 Jack is sitting across from the television with a bowl of sugary cereal. He looks up and beams at Sam, but when he notices Dean’s dark look he looks back into his cereal bowl. Sam looks apologetically at Jack but he’s already back to watching Sunday cartoons.  Dean walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. “Dean..” Sam walks in behind him, aggravating Dean with his endless attempts at changing his mind. He grabs a beer and shuts the fridge and leans his back against the cold metal door.  “That thing,” he points out toward the living room, “is a ticking time bomb.” He pops the cap open using the edge of the counter.  “Jack is a PERSON,” Sam hisses at his brother, knowing that if he could only stop looking at Jack as some evil prophecy then they could give Jack the chance he deserves, “The sooner you realize he is human - not a vessel of a human - but HUMAN,”

 Sam is suddenly alarmed by a metal clink on the floor behind him and he puts his finger to his mouth and signals Dean to check it out.  They tiptoe out of the kitchen and check the doors, but they’re all shut. They turn the corner into the living room and Jack is picking up a spoon and turns to the boys, “I dropped my spoon.” he smiled meekly.  “Jesus Fu-” Dean throws his head back in frustration and Sam runs his fingers through his hair, “It’s okay, Jack.” Sam pats Jack on the back and turns to Dean who is glowering at both of them, “Is THIS what we are going to have to be for the next 40-if we’re lucky- years? We’ll die of a heart attack in 5 if-”  A blade flys between Sam and Jack’s shoulders, landing in the wall 5 feet behind them. Dean spins around looking for the culprit.

 “SAMMY!” he shouts in a panic as he spots 2 figures evaporate in black smoke. “Yeah, I saw Dean, I’ll get Jack out,” he grabs Jack by the arm but he sees a woman has the smooth metal of the wayward blade pressed against Jack’s neck and held his shoulder tightly with her other hand. He whips his head back to Dean but sees he smashed his beer bottle against someone’s head. He spins back to Jack, who has a frown but seems to be confused about the situation.  The blade to Jack’s throat clatters to the floor as a different knife lands in the woman’s face, making her disappear again. Sam grabs the dropped dagger and glances at Dean who seems to have spared them a moment, but Dean’s attention is back to his brawl.  “Jack, let’s go!” Sam screams but again the woman appears in between them, this time focusing her attention on Sam. She lunges at him and throws all of her force into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbles backwards and trips over a chair behind him, falling and hitting the back of his head on the floor. Dean hears Sam’s groan as he is swinging an iron pipe at the male, “SAMMY! SAM!” he shouts over his shoulder but in his moment of distraction he gets sliced by a dagger and he gasps a breath of surprise.  Dean kicks the man as hard as he can in the stomach and launches himself forward, effectively grabbing the arms of the perpetrator, squeezing with all of his might in an attempt to force his enemy to drop his weapons.

 “JACK?” Dean roars as the attacker regains power and throws Dean on the ground. Jack was crouching my Sam’s head, and perks his head up to look toward Dean. “JACK CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Dean headbutts the man and throws him off, “JACK YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. TELEPORT.”  “But Sam?” He howls, careful to avoid the reach of the woman in black.  “JACK WE CAN’T PROTECT YOU HERE,” Dean reaches for his gun and shoots at the man, who disappears in another puff of black smoke, “YOU NEED TO GO, WE WILL COME FIND YOU.”  Just then Sam regains consciousness and sees the woman diving around Jack, but when she notices him awake she charges at him, “Jack,” Sam breaths and the woman is tossed into the wall with a blast of yellow light.  Sam turns to Jack looking at his hands with glowing eyes, “I -” he starts in confusion, but Sam shakes head and rushes to Jack, “Jack we can’t let them take you, go disappear and we’ll take care of them.” Sam grabs his hands and looks meaningfully into Jacks eyes, giving Jack a feeling of comfort and trust. Sam hurdles himself under the table to reach for the gun and Dean bellows one final, “GO!” before Jack squeezes his eyes shut and feels the room go quiet.

 When Jack opens his eyes, it isn’t the room he’s standing in, but outdoors in the sunshine.

 He feels a bundle of leaves brush the top of his head and he winces at sunlight washing over his eyes as he looks up at the tree above. The leaves rustle and the light flickers through the branches.

 He hears noise and walks around the tree.

 He sees a person on the ground, sitting with crossed legs, eyes closed, swaying back and forth like the tree overhead. It didn’t look like a demon or a hunter. Kind of looked nice like Clark, he thought.  He saw a metallic box that he thought was making the noises. “What’s that?” he asks the girl, who jumps in surprise.

 “Ahh..ahah, you surprised me,” you say giddily and move your sunglasses from your head down to your face, “It’s Modest Mouse.”  The guy stares down at you with a furrowed brow, but when you offer up a smile he smiles back at you, “Oh, it sounds very nice.” He continues to stand a few feet away.  “Strangers to Ourselves.” you nod, in agreement. He tilts his head in confusion and you add, “It’s from a couple of years ago, but the subtle violins and the piano in the opening are really captivating. It has a sweet, eerie feeling, right?”

 He looks up at the tree, “I thought you were moving like the tree.” he says and you’re kind of startled by such a strange comment.  “The song is perfect for this weather, I guess. Matches up very perfectly.” You nod. You look around and see a few other people having picnics in the grass and a dog off in the distance catches a frisbee.   “Do you wan’t to sit?” You ask him, politely.

 “Ok.” he says and sits on the grass where he stood. You giggle; half surprised he accepted your offer, half confused as to why he sat in the grass but you thought he might be messing around with you.  “You can sit on the blanket!” you squeak a bit and point at the other corner. “Ok” he repeats and moves over to your blanket. You’re not sure what to say next, but he can just sit here and listen to your mix if he wants. He seems quiet, so he’s not bothering your plans.

 You reach into your bag for another Halloween candy and start to unwrap the fun sized treat. “Is that Nougat?!” he perks up and crawls toward you a few inches.  “It’s a Snickers,” you offer him the candy but realize you just touched it with your hands so you reach into your backpack for another one but he happily seizes the unwrapped chocolate and takes a bite.  “I love Nougat!” He squeals and chews happily on the treat. “Yeah, it’s great.” You chuckle under your breath at his innocent enthusiasm.

 You hum along with ‘The World at Large’ and Jack swings ever so slightly to the beat of the music. At the end the music twists into a high pitched tone and starts sounding like a melted record. You notice Nougat guy frowns and puts his hands over his ears, “What is that?” he wails.  “I don’t like that part either,” you click your tongue, “But you know, music is meant to evoke emotions.”

 “I didn’t like that emotion.” he says childishly and you laugh again.

 “Here, how about something else,” you switch your player to something that is completely unoffensive.  Jack slowly releases his hands form his ears and straightens out his shoulders. He listens for a moment to the piano keys chattering away and his eyes dart around as though he’s trying to imagine the sounds as physical objects.  A smile slowly spreads across his face and you realize you were watching his lips stretch wide. You look away and feel warmth radiating from your face. You think about how freaking handsome he is and how you weren’t trying to notice before because you thought he was just passing by... but now that he is sitting with you, sitting right in front of you, no signs of intending to leave, you are captivated by his beauty.

 “That sounds nice.” he beams up at you, “Do you have any more Nougat?” he asks hopefully.  “Sure,” you grab your bag and root around for another piece, “this is Chopin, are you a fan?” he looks at you earnestly and says, “No, I’m Jack.”  You can’t help yourself from bursting out laughing, half from nerves. “Right, I guess we skipped introductions, I’m Y/N.” you frown as you open your bag wide and realize you may have had the last of your candy.

 “Um, Jack, I’m sorry but it looks like I’m tapped out.” you apologize and he frowns. He takes your bag out of your hands and you yelp, “HEY!” worried he is going to rob you, or worse yet find something embarrassing in there.  “Are you sure?” he pleads, shifting around the contents of your bag. You flush red and grab the handle of your pack from his thigh and you can practically feel steam coming from your ears from the heat of your face, “You can’t do that.” you utter in a barely understandable low breath.  He keeps his hold on your bag and when you tug it away he raises his eyes to yours, begging, “Please? I’m hungry.” he melts both your heart and your entire body and you break the endless eye contact, “Well candy is no source for a meal.” you retort, but feel slightly guilty.

 You shove your music into your bag, still releasing notes of Nocturne No. 2, and pat grass and leaves off your clothes.  “Do you know where I can find more Nougat?” he implores-in what you can only describe as pathetically sweet. You think for a moment as you gather your candy wrappers and start to roll up the blanket to put in your bag, “You’re helpless, aren’t you?” you yank on the blanket that is stuck on the corner where Jack is still sitting. You look up at him expectantly but his pout seems to indicate he is missing the social cue. You sigh and rest you wrists on the ground, tired of jerking.

 “Okay, I’ll show you.” you give in and as usual Jack gives a boyish grin, practically reflecting the sun’s rays. You note the hair that falls into his face, sweeping above his eyes in an even more charming manner than it was before.  “You need to stand up.” you eye at his corner of the blanket and he jumps onto the grass, ready for wherever you were to take him. You quickly roll up the rest of the blanket and throw it into your open bag.

 “Well, is pizza alright?” you inquire but you think it probably doesn’t matter. You’re not sure what strange situation he’s in; ran away from somewhere; homeless; from another country?  He seems too old to ‘run away from home’. Psychiatric ward, maybe? He’s not that bad.  He is exceptionally clean if he is homeless. But why would he be walking around this park? Well, you don’t know what homeless people do anyway.  His English is excellent if he is from another country.

 “Where were you born?” you ask tentatively.  “North Cove, Washington.” Jack responds and you automatically continue, “What brings you here?” The two of you walk on a sidewalk swept with leaves of different colors.  “Safety.” he answers curtly and you’re unsure if you should ask any more. You wonder if he is part of a witness protection program or if he means something else. You decide not to pry any further. That is, unless he wants to bring something up.

 You walk to Little Italy and turn to Jack, “What do you like?” So far his most stated word, “Nougat!” he repeats, and you start to think he is trying to have one over on you.  “Obviously, but they don’t specialize in nougat pizza.” You roll your eyes and suddenly realize you’re probably just going to have to order on your own.  You walk through the door and wave at the cashier, “Hi, 1 white slice, 1 margherita, 1 sausage,” you look around the display case of probably day old pizzas and spot a fresh one out of the oven, “Oh and the Hawaiian!” you turn back to Jack, “Coke?” he is paying more attention to the pinball machine than you or the pizzas. Of course, you think and order 2 drinks from the man. He rings you up, you take your ticket, and go to fill up.  Well, he seems to be new to American culture, so how about a cherry coke and a mountain dew.

 You walk over to Jack with the drinks as he watches a couple of teenagers rumble with the pinball machine. “Let’s have a seat.” you suggest and he turns to you and follows obediently. You could get used to this, but you try to remember you shouldn’t.  You pass him the mountain dew and sit across from him at a two top. He looks at the cup cautiously and you take a sip through the straw. He watches you and puts his mouth on the straw as well. He takes his mouth off of the straw. He puts it back on. He takes it off.  “Suck on it.” you recommend.

 He slurps up the Dew and his eyes widen. He drinks for nearly 20 seconds straight and demolishes the soda. He opens the lid and looks in the cup and scowls that it’s empty.  “Are you thirsty? You can have some of mine.” you offer up your cup and he gently takes it, then proceeds to evacuate this cup as well. You chuckle and he looks at you in amazement, “That was different!”  “Yeah, they’re all different flavors.” you cross your elbows on the table and observe his excitement.  “Every cup?” His jaw drops and you’ve last count how many times he’s made you laugh now.  “Every soda. Well, basically. Some of them have different names but taste the same.”

 He looks at his cup in bewilderment and then shakes it in front of his face. “It’s alright, you know we can refill it?” You take the cups from in front of Jack and walk over to the machine. He jumps up and follows you to the refill station.  “What’ll it be this time?” you glance at him and he marvels at the very basic design.  “Something different,” he awes.  You decide to choose the ginger ale and push the button to fill the cup. Jack looks closely at the flow of liquid and moves the cup out of the way and puts his mouth under the stream.  “Jack!” you assert with a hush, “What are you doing, that’s now how that works!” you tug on his sleeve and look around hoping nobody is noticing.

 “42!” A man calls and you grab him by the arm and pull him away, “That’s our food.” you whisper to him and walk up to the server with a smile, “Thank you!”  You grab the tray and make it back to your seats, flushed once again with embarrassment. Jack is either going to make today a lot more interesting or a nightmare for you.  “Here.” you slide the sausage toward him and he chews on it happily, silently.  You watch him pull on the mozzarella for about 10 inches before biting it off completely, and smearing tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth.  You giggle and pass him a napkin. He doesn’t notice but he gobbles up the rest of the slice and looks hungrily at the other 3 slices. “Ah,” you say, realizing you hadn’t even picked up a slice yet. You grab the Margherita and he reaches for the closet slice to him.

 He screws up his face after he swallows a piece, “The other one was better.” he states but tentatively takes another bite.  “Yeah, white pizza isn’t usually a fan favorite.” You swap his plate with the Hawaiian, “Here, have this instead, I think you’ll like pineapple better.” You continue your slice and after a skeptical bite he gleefully eats up the rest.  “Yeah I thought so.” you smile, knowing something sweet would grab his tooth. You finish off your piece and stare at the partially eaten White pizza. Your favorite, but is it weird to eat after a stranger?  You’ve kissed strangers before, so it’s not like there is any disease you can get from this that you couldn’t pick up from that. You reach for the pizza. Although, you don’t know where he’s been. You tilt your head at the pizza. At the same time you don’t know where everybody you’ve ever kissed came from either.  You shrug and take a bite. Ah, the pleasure of ricotta and garlic. You lick your fingers and notice Jack is staring at the pinball machine again.

 “You want to play?” You ask as you wipe your mouth.

 He doesn’t seem to notice as he keeps looking over at the game. “Alright.” You stand up, wipe your hands, and search your pockets for coins. “Ah, lucky one.”  You wave the quarter in the air and walk over to the machine. Jack gets up and follows you to the blinking attraction. You pop the quarter into the coin slot and bow dramatically in front of the game. “You’re up, sir Jack!” He looks from you to the machine and walks up to the glass face.  “Push the buttons,” you signal at the side where two round plastic buttons were protruding. Jack looks from one side of the machine to the other and puts his hands on the buttons. He starts tapping them and the levers in the game fling around. He looks up at you and grins.  You reach by his hip and pull the ball release and a large metal marble shoots from the corner of the machine along the side of the glass, up and around the top of the tilted platform. Jack watches the ball in astonishment as it pings back and forth and hits bells and bumpers until it finally slides down the gutter shoot.  “You’ve got to hit the buttons, Jack!” you say incredulously, amazed that he didn’t try to hit it once. He briefly looks at you and nods then turns back with focus to the table.  You pull on the ball release tab again. You bellow loudly as this time he goes from silent to furiously hitting the buttons. The ball hits a bonus flap and the lights start blinking various colors all over the table and Jack lights up like one of the little bulbs. He pauses again and you nudge him with your elbow, “The buttons!”  He jumps and watches the ball carefully as it approaches the levers. The moment it appears within the space Jack slams the button and the ball shoots back up through a metal winding loop and spins another bonus trigger.

 You watch him concentrate and the side of his eye twitch with excitement as the he keeps the ball out of the gutter. The lights reflect different colors on his skin, flawless and even like a freshly gessoed canvas. You are amazed again by his beauty.  His curving eyebrows, framing his expressive eyes filled with emotions. His cheekbones, smooth and rigid, like a sculpture made of wood. You thought if you would touch him, it might cut you. He was so perfect, you were amazed he’d spent a single day outside. Not one wrinkle, not one blemish, not one sunspot. He looked the way hollywood actors look in those airbrushed magazines.   Not to mention those curving lips, perfectly curled into a sparkling smile. His teeth were white and straight, and you suddenly felt very creepy evaluating his every feature. But you couldn’t help trying to find  some sort of imperfection.  You thought about your own patchy redness, scars, evidence of uv damage. You suddenly felt very self conscious around him, until a blaring tin bell rang and startled you.

 “I think I won, Y/N!” Jack twinkles at you, accentuating his adorable dimples. You couldn’t help getting lost in him and forgetting about your own flaws. He didn’t give any reason to make you feel conscious about yourself.

 You look over at the machine and it was blinking ‘HIGH SCORE’ rapidly. “Great job, Jack!” his contagious joy infected you.

 Some nearby teenagers nodded their approval and you realized quite a few people were staring at the two of you. You were abruptly drawn out of your giggles and excitement and clenched your bag tightly.

 “Well, I’d better go home.” you say lamely but smile politely at Jack.

 “Okay.” Jack beams back and stands in front of you awkwardly.

 “Well, thanks for a nice time, Jack.” you make a slight bow and feel cheesy but you’re not sure what else to say to a stranger with whom you’d just spent the last couple of hours.

 “You’re welcome, thank you, Y/N!” he bounces back and you start to feel like you could be walking away from something important.

 Regardless, you wave a meek little gesture and walk out of the pizzeria. You realize your grip on your backpack is making you lose feeling in your fingers. Letting go with one hand, you swing the pack side to side and wiggle your free fingers. You walk through fall leaves down the sidewalk as you register that you haven’t breathed since leaving the pizzeria.

 You let out a long overdue sigh, which is swiftly followed by another deep sigh behind you. You turn around and see that Jack is walking in tow and you yelp in surprise. Jack cries out in return and you laugh in some strange form of relief. Jack duplicates your laugh and you start walking forward again.

 Jack continues at your pace.

 “So, you headed this way?” you pose and expect maybe Jack lives near the downtown area.

 “You’re headed this way?” he echoes as an obvious fact.

 “Well, yeah, I live 3 blocks away. Which affords me the luxury of going to the park as often as I want. And all the Little Italy Margherita I can afford!” you joke, but Jack doesn’t answer you.

 “Where do you live?” you continue to probe.

 “Lebanon, Kansas, I guess.” he says not quite confident.

 You think about where Lebanon is, but your geography skills were never quite up to par. “So where are you staying right now? Or are you just in town for some day trip?” you continue.

 “I wasn’t really expecting to be here.” he shrugs.

 “Oh.” you softly answer. You don’t know what exactly that means, but maybe he just needed a change of scenery. You perk up and decide to show Jack what a friendly towny could offer.

 “Do you want to hear some more music?” you squeak. Jack ponders and suddenly lights up, “You mean like the Mouse?” he chirps and you reply with a silly laugh.

 You reach the front of your apartment and you look into your bag nervously for your keys. You only meant to invite him innocently, but you are after all inviting a strange and handsome boy into your single apartment. That wouldn’t seem innocent to the average person, you think to yourself.  You shake your head as you find your keys and  your hands tremble at the lock. Pull yourself together! You think to yourself, shoving the key into the lock and turning. Luckily, Saturdays are your days to tidy up, so the apartment is relatively presentable.  You put your bag on its hook and walk immediately into the kitchen, “Would you like tea?” you shout back at Jack, who answers right behind you, “Okay.”  You turn around to look at him in surprise, but you nod your head indicating your acknowledgement. You grab your tea pot and turn on the faucet, thinking about whether to play him records or just music off of your computer. You turn the handle and place the tea pot on the stove, but the gas flame blows out immediately.  “That’s weird.” you look closer at your knob and ignitor, but everything seems fine. You feel a brush of air against your face and look out toward the front door. “Oh!” you scurry into the living room and shut the front door. Did he close it? Did someone else come in? You look around uneasily. Should I be worried?  You look toward the kitchen and see Jack peeking his head out, a lock of hair fallen over his eye and he says, “Your fire worked.”  You shake your head to yourself disbursing your thoughts and latch the lock. It’s all fine. You soothe yourself. Returning to the kitchen, you see Jack is sitting at the table, anxiously looking at the top of your fridge. Your eyes follow his line of sight and you smirk cunningly.  “Ah, yes, I have some Snickers.” you reach over the fridge to your candy jar and make a note that you are going to need more candy before the Halloween walk next week.  You place it down in front of Jack, “Save me some!” you warn with a wink. You pull down a couple of mugs from the cabinets and grab your tea jars filled with various oolongs, herbals, and blacks. You turn to ask Jack what kind he drinks, but when you see he is already 8 wrappers deep in your bowl you realize it probably won’t matter.  You turn back and smile to yourself, remembering what a sweet tooth you had when you were a kid. You pull the honey and spoons out just as the pot starts to whistle. You shut the gas off and bring the mouth of the kettle over the mugs. You watch the tea leaves swirl in the vortex of the water which reminds you of Orange Sky, and you go to pull it up on your media player.

 You bring your speaker into the kitchen and set it down at the little table and sit across from Jack. He’s eaten nearly half the bowl already, chocolate smeared on the corner of his lip. You grab a handful of fun sized wrappers and playfully start tossing at him, “You promised to save me some!” He starts throwing wrappers back at you and says, “I did leave you some!” he points matter of factly at the half full bowl.  “I know, I’m teasing.” you gather up the wrappers and take them over to the bin.  “Teasing?” he says inquisitively. You sip your tea to make sure it isn’t too hot to honey, “Just provoking you, for fun.” you answer. You scoop up a spoonful of honey and stir it into each cup until you feel it is sufficiently honeyed.  You carry over the mugs and Jack is watching your speaker. You remark, “It reminds me of this weather. Calm, full of breath, and warm colors like the trees.” He takes touches the mug but is startled for a moment. He surrounds the mug with his two hands and places one on the handle and one on the hot porcelain, and swiftly removes the hot hand.

 “What do you mean warm colors?” he looks up at you after recovering.

 “Well for one thing it’s called Orange Sky,” you look into your tea and think about how to describe the sounds as colors. “Well, the colors of autumn are considered warm colors of the spectrum. Which is funny, since it’s so chilly.” you chuckle, “But this is a topic I could go on for hours about. I think it’s all pretty natural.” You swirl your mug to make little circles in your tea.  “Go on?” Jack seems mesmerized by your thoughts, although you think he must be overly polite or underly socialized.  “Um.. well you get the spectrum, right? How our blood is red and it pumps fast and hot, so on one end we have burning red full of life and heat. On the other we have blue and purple, like the blue snow, or like how people’s lips turn purple when they are getting frost bite.” Jack listens attentively with a concentrated scowl on his face.  “Well, people talk about feeling colors all of the time, but I think that part actually reflects nature’s colors. Since.. our blood pumps when we’re excited, or angry, or running, or in love...” you put your mug down on the table, “Anyway, I guess it’s more difficult to describe sad as blue.”  “Blue?” Jack looks down at his hands thoughtfully, “Yes, I’ve felt sad. I suppose everything seemed more blue.” he says.  “Yeah!” you sit up in your chair, “It’s like, people talk about the blues, and feeling blue, but I think that maybe when the sun is away everything is more blue. Purely by the absence of the sun we are absent of red and all of the warmth and bright colors on that end of the spectrum. So everything is ...blue. Like cloudy, rainy days. Or snow..”  “Or darkness.” Jack interrupts. You nod, pleased that your explanation might make sense after all.

 “So could you show me a blue song?” Jack looks solemn.

 “Erm,” you pull out your phone and look through your playlist, “Give me a second.” You pull up Oh Wonder and try to find a song that touches you when you’re not quite feeling up to the world.  You find it and smile, “Close your eyes.” you tell Jack as you play the song. Jack obeys and sits still amongst the piano notes.  You close your eyes along with him and start to lose yourself in the song. You sway gently to the beat and start to hum the tune.

 “I’ve been upside down. I don’t want to be the right way round.” You don’t realize that you’ve started to whisper along with the song, “Can’t find paradise on the ground.” you start to feel your eyes getting hot, but you don’t realize it right away.  “All we do is hide away...” your face is streaked with little streams of tears but it’s not important. “All we do is play it safe. All we do is live inside a cage.” you hope Jack hasn’t opened his eyes yet and you wipe your face with your sleeve.

 “All I did is fail today. All we do, all we do.” you finish along with the song and open your eyes. You blush when you realize Jack’s watching you, although you aren’t sure for how long.

 “You make pretty sounds too.” he says without a smile, but his eyes show delight.

 “I didn’t mean to sing over the song.” you shy away, but Jack doesn’t protest.

 You spin through your songs again looking for something to cut the tension that you probably made up in your own head.  You skim through Fleurie, Ruelle, Birdy, and Rhodes. “Actually...” you pause your hunt, “There are lots of different types of blue. There’s very weak feeling sadness, like this song,” you begin to play ‘Let it all Go’, “Where you feel helpless and as though the breath is being sucked out of you as the music builds. The more chorus there is, the more my chest tightens. But you know.. there is a kind of angrier blue. You could call it dark blue? Or maybe like those old school 3-D glasses, where the one eye is red and the other is blue.” You tap ‘add next’ on Orgy’s ‘Blue Monday’ and start adding song after song to support your theory.  “Do you feel the sense of pain and anger but sorrow?” you search Jack for an emotion. “I think so.” he stares at the table as he continues to centralize his focus on the instruments and lyrics and voices.  Next plays ‘Way Down we Go’ and you ask what it sounds like Kaleo feels, “Loss.” Jack says grimly. “I thought so too!” you smile brightly, despite all of the painful feelings of the songs. 

 You decide it’s time to change the pace for something a little bit more upbeat.

 You play ‘A Single Life’ and watch his reaction. “She keeps saying slow down, but my heart felt faster.” Jack says looking at his chest and holding a hand over his heart. “Yes, well, she uses the beat of the music to make it feel fast, and the trumpets tooting make you feel rushed and panicky.” You evaluate for him. “Here’s another fast one for you.” you pull up Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats. Jack seems to be shaking his knee under the table, but perfectly calm above the hips. “Isn’t it making you feel frustrated? I mean like you want to get away from everyday life problems?” More than usual anyway you think. Jack looks down into his lap, “I do feel like I can’t sit still.” He looks up at you, “What other things than music do to my body?”

 “Come with me.” You smile knowingly and lead him to your record collection in the living room.

 Sam brushes broken glass into a dustpan and tosses the contents into the trash. His hands are wrapped in bandages and he looks at Dean sitting at a computer, clear aggravation written on his face.

 “Where the hell are we supposed to start looking?” Dean growls and Sam grimaces.

 “I guess we’ll do what we usually do; strange occurrences in quiet towns?” Sam offers up.

 Dean slides his chair back and thrusts up away from the table, “Well good luck with that. I’m going to clean up.” Dean walks away, covered in blood, and less covered in his tattered t-shirt.

Sam exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. 

He stands up and walks over to the computer, grabs the chair and scoots in toward the desk. He rubs the back of his wrist and takes a deep breath before typing away at the keyboard.

[justtextmeoppa]

❝ I Promise... ❞

Plot: You're being bullied at your school but rapmon doesn't know, but when one day he decides to surprise you and pick you up, he sees you get bullied and saves you

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Words count: 1,8k+

Genre: Angst and fluff

For anon, I hope you like it! 

-kyu.

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

Is there anything that’s perfect? Body, grades, life? This was something that weighed heavy on your mind. It wasn't something odd to think about at your age but it was something weird to be thinking off around 2am in the morning. Turning for the for nth time, you finally drifted to sleep but was pulled out of your sleep by the sound of your alarm clock. Your daily routine kicked in which involved; brushing teeth, bathing, getting dressed, sorting out hair and then looking at your phone for your morning message.

From Joonie

Have fun at school today baby. I will see you later at the studio. Love you lots.

‘School…’ You sigh heavily as you look at the purplish bruise on your inner arm, ‘How fun.’

Getting on the bus, you sank deep into your seat and put on your earphones. The calming music vibrated into your ears as you looked out the window at the moving scenery. The morning bus drives were always your favourite thing during the day, apart from seeing Namjoon. Tapping your finger melodically on your thigh, you felt your earphones begin ripped out.

Here we go, The thought rang through your mind.

‘Morning brat.’ A familiar voice sneered, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Y-yes, Jihoon.’ You stutter, looking down in your lap.

‘Speak louder you idiot! Someone of us aren't used to mouse talk.’ Lee Jihoon, your classmate and personal bully, asked.

‘Yes!’ Your voice more firm.

‘Ooooo look at that, little miss mouse has a bite.’ Jihoon pushed your head, resulting in it hitting the widow slightly as the bus came to a stop, ‘Well see you later mouse.’

Grabbing your things, you all but ran out the bus. Truth be told, you hated attending school, well just the current one you were attending at the moment. You never understood why you were bullied, you never bothered anyone. You did as you were told and moved on with life. Rubbing your head, you bumped into someone which caused you too freeze

‘Jihoon?’ The voice asked and instantly calmed you down.

‘Do you even have to ask.’ You sigh looking up at your best friend, Yerim.

‘I don’t understand why you don’t just report them, Y/N.’ She huffed.

‘Because if I do that then they will be more angry.’ You reasoned, looking at the bruise in your inner wrist.

‘Has Namjoon seen that?’ Yerim asked with a raised brow.

‘No and he will never see it.’ You pull down your jersey sleeve and walked to class.

The bruise was given to you a few days ago by Jihoon and his band of misfits. It was still slightly sore but only when force was used by that hand. One would say it was unethical for a boy to bully a girl, but it wasn't just him. Within the group there were four girls who made your life a living hell. Peace couldn't even be achieved in the bathroom because they would be around.

From Joonie

Was the bus ride fun?

To Joonie

Same old same old, could have been better.

From Joonie

Are you okay, babe? You sound offish.

To Joonie

I am okay baby, I have to go to class. See you later ^^

Locking your phone, you slipped it into your backpack to only hear a snicker behind you, ‘How cute. Busy telling the boyf about your day?’

‘Yes.’ Your response short as you tried to walk pass them but only to be shoved into the wall.

‘Hey hold up, what’s the rush buttercup?’ Seunghee asked, ‘It must be so burdensome to be a student while your boyfriend is already an adult. Talk about being a babysitter.’ The others laughed at the comment, ‘Are you sure he isn't paid by your parents to look after you, so you don’t  go running into moving traffic?’

Just then the bell rang and you bolted from the scene before they could rip into you anymore. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you sat in class. The day dragged with lessons and hourly bully checks. Eventually the final bell rang and you were on the bus towards Namjoon. Getting off you sighed, you were exhausted mentally and physically. Your back still hurt from being thrown into the wall earlier.

‘Babe!’ Your prince beamed.

‘Hey Joonie.’ You smile as he came to hug you, you just placed your hand on his chest, ‘Ahhh no hugs.’

‘What?’ Why?’ He asked with a raised brow? ‘I haven't seen you all day.’

He pouted at the rejection while a little chuckle left your lips, ‘I hmmmm just had gym so I am all sweaty. Do you want a sweaty hug?’

‘It’s not like I haven't been sweaty with you before.’ A naughty grimace spread upon his face as the dimples appeared.

‘Namjoon!’ You hit his chest playfully to only wince at the pain that shot up your arm, ‘Ahh!’

‘What?’ He grabbed your arm, ‘Baby are you okay?’

‘No no, just my wrist.’

‘Are you hurt?’

He was about to lift your sleeve before you ripped it from his touch, ‘No it’s nothing. I am sure I just hit you in a weird manner. Probably from those sculpted pecks.’

‘Ha ha ha, very funny,’ He now held your clothed wrist delicately, placing a soft kiss on it, ‘Are you sure you okay?’

‘My wrist is fine.’ You reassured.

He took your face in his hands and caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, ‘I am talking about you in general, not your wrist baby girl. You have been very offish for the past few days. Is everything good? Home? School?’ He looked deep into your eyes, ‘You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.’

At that moment you wanted to spill everything out to him. You wanted to scream out your irritations and frustrations to the world. But you rather not tell him. He was your boyfriend, not your counsellor. Sighing, you placed a delicate kiss on his lips before breaking apart and giving him the biggest smile you could ever muster.

‘I am okay, baby.’ You said for the nth time, ‘But I have to go home now.’

‘But you just got here!’ He whined.

‘I have tons of school work.’ You stated, ‘I am sorry. But I will see you this weekend, okay?’

‘Why not tomorrow?’

‘I might finish late and I rather not take the bus.’

With that, you said your goodbyes and split ways. Truth be the matter, you just didn't want to tell him you might be late due to the issues at school because he would want to know why and all that. Arriving at home, you took some meds and went straight to bed. The evening sky was quickly replaced with the morning one. Soon the daily routine kicked in. Bus bullying, scolding from best friend but you tired your best avoiding your offenders.

Walking, you suddenly tripped due to someone, ‘Some would say you are avoiding us Y/N-ah.’

‘And we don’t like being avoided.’ Seunghee added, bending down and tilting your chin up, ‘I’m sure you are used to that feeling though.’

‘Wh-why are you all doing this?’ Your voice cracked, a car pulling up in the parking lot a few feet away.

‘Ahhhh it’s fun?’ Jihoon questioned, a person emerging from the sleek car and walking towards the group of people, ’Does that qualify as a viable answer?’

‘I would say so.’ Another chuckled, ‘Unless you want a soppy answer. Do you want a soppy answer?’

You remained silent, ‘Well do you?!’

‘Y-yes.’ Your voice shook at the force in Seunghee’s question.

‘Look at that, she is actually talking back.’ She pushed you down before standing up.

Your body was in pain. Your back still ached from yesterday and your wrist was on fire due to having to hold yourself up. Picking yourself up, you no longer lay down but sat up straight and looked up towards them. They were once your friends, people you cared about when you were younger but something changed. You weren't sure and you knew they would never tell you because they left you all alone. Attending school with the people you once cared for was something that was the toughest for you.

‘What? All talk and no bark?’ Jihoon sneered.

‘Maybe she needs a lesson, Hoon-ah.’ Seunghee urged.

‘Or maybe you all need a hit in the head.’ A voice broke the conversation, causing your heart to sink into your chest and them to turn their heads towards the person.

’N-namjoon?’ You asked.

‘Get the fuck away from Y/N!’ Your boyfriend threatened.

‘And what if we don’t?’ Jihoon stood up from himself, ‘Not like you can do anything about it, ahjussi.’

Before Namjoon could make a logical thought in his head, his first went ramming into the younger males face. Jihoon flew to the floor due to the impact that was applied to his cheek, ‘The next person to talk ill towards me gets something way worse then that punch, do you hear me?’

‘Y-yes.’ The others stuttered.

‘I am your senior and elder, show some respect you punks!’ He spat, ‘Next time I see anyone of you around Y/N or even looking at her, I will personally end you. Understood?’ They all nodded, ‘Now beat it before things get ugly.’

With shuffled footwork, they ran down the halls as you tried to get up, ‘Ah..AH!’

‘Wait wait baby,’ He picked you up in bridal style, ‘Let me help you.’

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked as he placed you down on a bench, and took a seat.

‘I wanted to come fetch you since you said you didn't wanna take the late bus, and it’s a good thing I did,’ He looked at you, ‘What was all that?’

‘Nothing, just friends being friends.’

‘Y/N, I maybe a few years out of school but I ain’t that old to know that those weren't friends. Are you being bullied?’

‘I would say casual teasing.’ You said softly.

‘Casual teasing doesn't have one on the floor, thats called physical assault.’ He corrected, ‘Why didn't you tell me?’

‘I don’t know…’ The lie seemed to sound more real then anything.

‘So suffering in silence was your best option?’ He asked with a raised brow, ‘Listen to me Y/N Y/L/N, I am your boyfriend.’

‘Exactly you are my boyf-’

‘A boyfriend that wants to protect and keep you safe. I can’t do that when you keep things from me, so promise me something.’

‘What?’

‘Promise me you will tell me anything that is troubling you. Whether its friends, family or life. I need to know because what if I didn't come at the time that I did, imagine what would have happened?! How could I live with myself knowing that something like that happened right under my nose-’

Namjoon was shut up by your soft lips on his. Within seconds, his plump ones kissed you back with the utter most delicate touch. Enveloping yours, you placed a hand on his knee and gave it a reassign squeeze before pulling apart and pressing your foreheads together and whispering softly.

‘I promise…’

[terminallydepraved]

Epithymy Chapter Eight

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Silva began to regret his decision pretty much as soon as Hisoka, vile Drow Lord of the Western Undercity Hisoka, insisted he stay a few days before his payment could be gathered. He had already felt horrible enough with the guilt eating at him, but now he had the added stress of being a human in a den of Drow. At any moment, he expected to be attacked, either by his gracious host or his spurned and betrayed lover.

You deserve it, his inner voice muttered as Silva once again checked every inch of the guest room for traps or hidden poison caches. After what you did to Chrollo, you deserve anything coming to you.

Frowning, Silva let the mattress fall back into place. He deserved a lot, but thinking it like that wasn’t going to help things. If only Hisoka had come and met him sooner, perhaps Silva wouldn’t have had to think about this at all. He could’ve been up above by now, his gold in hand as he paved the way for a cushy future without a backwards glance. Now he had to live with the guilt and the fact that he probably wasn’t ever going to see that gold.

He had to live with the fact that he had betrayed one of the best things he’d found during his travels.

Silva grimaced at the floor. Part of him wished there was some poisoned dart or bladed trap waiting for him in this room. What an ass he had been. The sooner Hisoka could gather the gold, the better off Silva would be. Chrollo would escape again no doubt, and then Silva could relax knowing that things had worked themselves out in the end.  

 A knock sounded on the door and Silva nearly jumped out of his skin. Who could that be? He reached for his knife on the bedspread, slipping it into his boot should it prove to be an assassin. Silva hadn’t seen hide nor hair of another soul since he had been shoved unceremoniously into this room after Hisoka had whisked Chrollo away.

 Opening the door just a crack, Silva peered out into the hallway. “Who is it?” he asked, eyes going wide as whoever it was shoved on the other side, moving him easily, almost as if he weighed nothing. Silva struggled to brace it shut, but his attempts were in vain. A dour-faced Drow woman stood in the doorway, looking anything but out of breath after that display of strength.

 If she had any thoughts on his attempts at denying her entry, she didn’t make them obvious. “The master sends for you,” the servant said quietly, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her white hair was wound into a tight bun on top of her head, her eyes a piercing red color that reminded him far too much of fresh blood.  

 “Does he have my pay?” Silva asked, on edge. Did Drow not need to blink? Her gaze was disconcerting.

 Instead of answering, the servant narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down as if she found him wanting in some regard. “No,” she said finally, meeting his eye after one last disapproving pass. “It is time for the evening supper. His lordship wishes for you to join him. Follow.”

 Before Silva could so much as ask why, she was turning and leaving, her pace fast enough that he rushed to follow after her. He barely had the time to close the door behind him before jogging down the hall, her gait misleadingly long for how short her legs were. “Hey, what’s the rush?” he grunted, catching up just as she turned a corner. Silva tried to keep his bearings but the harried pace and unsettling decor made it difficult.

 The servant just harrumphed, holding her head high as she led him through the halls. “His lordship shall not be kept waiting,” she said, barely glancing at him as she spoke. “Tis the height of rudeness for a guest to assert himself so.”

 It was the height of rudeness where Silva came from to treat a guest so abrasively. Silva held his tongue on the insult he wanted to lob, contenting himself with the thought that as fast as they were walking, he’d soon be where he needed to be and free of her company.

 He was proven right when after only another minute or so, they came upon a pair of thick, polished doors. The servant stopped and reached out a hand, opening them with an ease that surprised Silva. For her slight frame, he hadn’t expected to see such strength, but then again, he supposed that Drow were made of tougher stuff than humans. Peering past her, he looked inside, eager to see if Chrollo were anywhere to be found inside.

 A hall large enough for a banquet opened up before Silva, the servant letting him enter first. The ceilings were high, far higher than the outside of the manor seemed to be capable of boasting, and from the very center hung an elaborate, antiquated looking chandelier. Though it held at least a hundred candles, none of them were lit. Instead, the glow of fox fire illuminated the room, glistening eerily off the polished silver plates and cutlery clustered on one end of the enormous table.

 Looking back at the servant, Silva cleared his throat. “Where is his lordship?” he asked, noting how not a single sound could be heard throughout the grand hall. “Am I dining alone?”

 The servant sniffed. “He will be here shortly. Take a seat and begin.”

 If she were any chillier, Silva might freeze solid. Nodding his head, he let out a low sigh, looking back at the places set at the table. There were three places set, two close together and the other a few seats away, back to the door. Silva didn’t need to ask to know where he was intended to sit. Despite that, he still turned back to look at the servant, only to find her gone, nothing but dead air and silence in her wake. It figured, he thought, walking towards the table, that he would be left here alone to await Hisoka.

 At least he didn’t have to wait for dinner. The table was already laden with food, from dishes that ranged from whole beasts to stewed vegetables, to bowls filled with all manner of things Silva couldn’t properly identify. He sat himself down in the seat meant for him, judging the food with a careful eye. It certainly smelled edible, even if some of it looked less than normal.

 “Ahh, you beat me here,” a voice called out, and Silva startled a bit, whipping around in his seat to take in the man entering. Hisoka made his entrance quietly, slipping through the door with a grace that seemed to belong to all Drow. He was smiling as he always seemed to do, clothed in a an ensemble that looked more expensive than Silva’s axe with a neckline just as dramatic. His sharp, dark collar bones framed a pendant of turquoise, one that matched Chrollo’s ever-present earrings.

 “Your servant was very brisk,” Silva said, watching the Drow navigate around the table and seat himself in one of the chairs across the way. “I’d be surprised if I didn’t beat you here.”

 “Ah, well, Nvidia doesn’t like to waste her time on duties below her,” Hisoka smiled. “You understand. How have you found your rooms? Are they to your liking?” He gestured at the food before them welcomingly. “Of course, help yourself while we get acquainted. If you are a guest here, we should be civil.”

 The way he worded it sent Silva’s instincts ringing vaguely somewhere in the back of his mind. “They’re fine. You obviously do very well for yourself,” he said, looking between the dishes carefully. “And, while I’ve got it on my mind, what of my payment?” Silva asked, helping himself to the food closest to him. Meat was usually a safe bet, and he took some of whatever beast it was on the platter at his elbow. Hooved feet and wings? It smelled good, at least. “You’ve kept me waiting for a while now. I’m inclined to believe you don’t intent on paying me.”

 Hisoka waved his hand errantly, pouring himself wine from a silver decanter. “It’s being seen to,” he said offhandedly, taking a sip before he bothered to serve himself any real food. “Such impatience to be paid. It’s almost as if you don’t trust me.”

 Silva didn’t say anything. He let his look do the talking for him. It prompted a laugh from Hisoka, one that sounded a lot warmer than Silva expected it to. The Drow rested an elbow on the table and stared at him, a small smile on his lips as he took Silva in. Silva ignored him for the most part. Whatever the meat was, it was pretty tasty. Somewhere between a chicken and a goat, but tender enough that it seemed to melt in his mouth.

 “So,” Hisoka began, his golden eyes unsettling enough to make Silva stiffen in his seat.

 “So,” Silva parroted, refusing to be intimidated. He took another bite, brow raised.

 “My blackbird tells me that you partook of his many charms while he was away.” Hisoka folded his hands on top of the table, hand too close to his knife to bring Silva any measure of comfort. “I must say, I’m not fond of the idea.”

 It took only a moment for Silva to parse out what he was saying. The moment it clicked was the moment Silva began to look for an exit, swallowing the bite of food far too quickly to be safe. “Did he now?” Silva replied, wondering just how angry Chrollo was if he were selling Silva out too. As discreetly as he could, Silva edged his boot closer, keeping his own knife within easy reach should he need it. He glanced down at his plate for a moment, wondering if it had been wise to eat so readily. Could it have been poisoned?

 Hisoka rested his cheek on his propped up hand, blinking slowly at Silva like a cat debating on going after a mouse. Where Chrollo’s features were soft, Hisoka’s were deathly sharp, his cheekbones chiseled enough to cut should someone get it in their head to try slapping him. Hisoka hummed and smiled, his mood unreadable. “He did,” he said, the pointed white of his teeth just visible past his grinning lips. “He was quite vehement in his rejection of me, but he found the time to make sure I knew just how… close the two of you had become whilst on your travels.”

 Was it just a Drow thing to be so damnably vague? Did he know, or was he trying to get Silva to admit to something? Silva wasn’t going to sit here and sweat just because Hisoka found it fun. “We work well together,” he decided to say, figuring that if Hisoka wanted to play, Silva would play too. “Chrollo is a good match to me. He takes direction well.”

 “Why, thank you,” Hisoka preened, leaning forward with a smile. “You should have seen how unruly he was the day he first fell into my arms. It’s been a lot of work, but I am most proud of the result.”

 Something like jealousy pooled in the pit of Silva’s stomach. So they were talking about sex. He sat back up but kept his boot near, just in case. “About that,” he said, noting how Hisoka perked up at the potential for more. “How did you come to… know Chrollo? For someone so predisposed towards wandering, I find it hard to believe he settled into a life of luxury easily.” Or willingly, for that matter. “Half-Drow aren’t typically accepted down here, are they?”

 Leaning back in his seat, Hisoka looked at Silva thoughtfully. “Curious, aren’t you?” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “I suppose Chrollo told you enough to make you so. He is such a wonderfully contradictory puzzle, isn’t he? He came to me first,” Hisoka said, tapping at his bottom lip as he spoke, “some odd half-century ago. I’d certainly never seen the like of him before, so I simply felt I must have him.”

 The way Hisoka made it sound, Chrollo was just a pet to him. Grinding his teeth, Silva narrowed his eyes. “Came to you?” he prompted, recalling how Chrollo had said he hadn’t been born in the Underdark, but he had ended up there. “In what way?”

 Hisoka visibly adored Silva’s prodding. He smiled his sharp-toothed smile and laughed a little. “In the way that most do,” he said, raising a blood-red brow. “He broke into my manor, pilfered my valuables, and then came for my head. I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. He looked so beautiful bathed in my servants’ blood.”

 Hisoka paused there, laughing at whatever expression Silva wore on his face. “Oh, did I shock you?” he asked, leaning forward in mock concern. “Why, did he never tell you? I’m rather notorious in these parts. My dearest blackbird heard of a reward placed on my head by a rival family and felt the need to fill his purse. It’s all rather romantic if you know how to appreciate such things.”

 Coming from a Drow, Silva shouldn’t have been so surprised. He leaned back in his seat, eyes still wide at the thought. “Why didn’t you just kill him?” he asked. “He tried to kill you, didn’t he?”

 Waving his hand, Hisoka scoffed. “And waste such perfection? I can always buy more servants, but a lover like that is hard to come by. It’s as you said, after all,” he led, eyes dancing. “Half-Drow are a rarity down here. I simply had to have him.”

 “And of the family that sent the hit?” Silva offered.

 Hisoka’s smile grew. “I’m afraid they’re no longer with us,” he said cheerfully, taking his wine glass by the stem to sip from it. “Of course, I had no official hand in that. Our government frowns upon such infighting, and I am nothing if not an upstanding member of our society.”

 Silva snorted, taking up his own glass and drinking from it. If it were poisoned, Hisoka would see to him dying even if he did abstain. “I’m sure you’re the picture of civility,” he deadpanned. Drow society wasn’t a very talked about thing up on the surface, but Silva had heard tell of the government, or what passed as government to them. If a family were caught fighting with another, both were liable to be eradicated in the name of preserving the peace. It hardly stopped the infighting, but it meant that those who were predisposed to it were forced to work carefully to see their success met.

 “That is what my government says,” Hisoka chimed, laughing a little. “What the rest say depends on my mood.” His eyes cut to Silva, hard and shining like citrine. “And what does my blackbird say to you of me, since we are on this topic? I’m sure he has told you all kinds of cruel things to gain your pity.”

 “I don’t pity Chrollo,” Silva said, setting his glass back down. “If you’re wondering if he’s bad mouthed you, he hasn’t.” It would have been better if Chrollo had. Maybe then Silva wouldn’t have brought him back here. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly his favorite person either right now.”

 “And for good reason,” a smooth voice cut in. Silva didn’t startle, but it was a near thing. Hisoka’s gaze was focused somewhere over Silva’s shoulder, and Silva turned too to take in the one they had been talking so much about.

 Chrollo was dressed now in clothing that Silva had never seen him wear before, things probably more befitting of his beauty and status than the dark leather and worn linen he had worn up above in Silva’s company. Silva’s mouth went dry at the sight. If this had come calling for his head, maybe Silva could see the logic behind keeping Chrollo instead of killing him.

 “It’s lovely to see you join us, Chrollo,” Hisoka greeted, standing graciously to hold out the seat next to him. Chrollo moved with infinite grace, his slender arms distracting, bared as they were in the lace work top. The silvery…. was it really spidersilk? Silva supposed it must have been, given the proclivities of the Drow. It created a beautiful contrast to his skin, his flowing skirt exposing his thighs through the open panels on the sides. Silva let his eyes wander, hating that Hisoka did the same. Something like this felt like it should only be appreciated alone, intimately. Silva didn’t want to share any part of that with Hisoka.

 But Chrollo didn’t even look at Hisoka, and he sure as hell didn’t look at Silva. He simply snatched up the plate and a fork as he moved, bypassing the proffered seat entirely to sit further off. Hisoka frowned and Silva hid a smile. He wasn’t sitting by Silva, but at least he wasn’t sitting by Hisoka either. Wordlessly, Chrollo began to fill up his plate, eating quietly and ignoring the eyes on him.

 Hisoka cleared his throat, glancing at Silva for just a second before addressing Chrollo again. “We were just talking about you,” he said brightly. “I’m pleased to see our words summoned you like a blessing. I can’t begin to say how much you grace us both with your presence.”

 Silva stared at Hisoka blandly. What on earth was he going on about? Did he think pretty words alone were going to be enough to get Chrollo to forgive them? What an idiot. Chrollo wasn’t even pretending to act like he had heard, instead opting to stare at Silva suddenly with a gaze as intense as it was surprising.

 “Your knife.” Chrollo’s words were clipped. Polite but distant.

 Silva blinked. “My what?” he asked, his mind immediately jumping to the one in his boot. Did Chrollo want to stab Hisoka for his attempts at flattery? He was reaching for it already, delighted by the thought.

 Chrollo closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them again. “Give me your knife. I can’t cut this meat,” he said, looking like every word he had to exchange pained him.

 Leaning back up, Silva flushed. “Oh,” he said, taking up the knife beside his own plate. “Yeah. Sure–”

 “Pet, why don’t you use mine?” Hisoka quickly interjected, already standing up, knife in hand. “Or, better yet, I’ll cut it for you–”

 Chrollo’s shoulders tensed and he didn’t bother looking away from Silva as he spoke. “If you don’t sit back down right now, Hisoka, I’m going to jab my fork in your eye.” His voice was as cold and effective as ice. Silva shivered and Hisoka froze in place, eyes wide as he stared at his lover taking the knife from Silva.

 Hisoka sat back down with a muffled thud, mouth a hard line and back stiff. “I hardly think the situation worthy of threats, pet,” he muttered, glaring at Silva for some reason. “Aren’t you mad at him too? Why am I the only one being spurned by you so viciously?”

 “Well, I would say he’s got more reason to be angry at you, don’t you think?” Silva offered, a grin on his face as he helped himself to more of whatever it was he was eating. Knowing Drow, it was probably some horrifying cave creature, but with Chrollo there, his appetite had returned in full. “All I did was my job. You’re the over-obsessed lover who sent out hunters to retrieve what you thought was yours.”

 Hisoka clasped the edge of the table so hard that the wood groaned quietly in protest. “I would say that creatures nearing the end of their pitifully short lives shouldn’t aspire to speed up the process by goading their betters,” Hisoka replied, his voice level in a way that got Chrollo’s attention.

 “I’m mad at you both,” Chrollo said bluntly, stabbing at his food with an annoyed air. “You should stop competing for a losing title.”

 Silva smirked. “Did you hear that? I think that’s your place in this race.”

 Hisoka bristled. “Oh, no,” he said, gesturing towards Silva. “That honor is all yours. You are, after all, so painfully old. It would be cruel of me to deny you of your rightful title as the Loser of Losers when you’ve no chance to better yourself in this lifetime.”

 Oh, that was hilarious coming from a creature twice Silva’s age. He readied himself to say as much, but was cut off before he could even open his mouth. Chrollo stood up, his chair screeching across the floor in disapproval. The air froze in place and Silva stared at Chrollo, Hisoka doing the same.

 “You’re both unbelievable,” he said, his hands resting on the tabletop, eyes frigid enough to freeze them both in place. “Absolutely unbelievable. Is this all a game to the two of you? Is my agency a joke to be laughed at?”

 When he said it like that, Silva just felt like an ass. He chewed the inside of his cheek and met eyes with the fuming, beautiful Drow. “Of course not,” he said, balking a little when Chrollo turned the force of his glare solely on him.

 “That’s absolutely rich coming from the man who trussed me up like a stuffed pig and dragged me back here against my will,” Chrollo hissed. “You’ve already shown how much you value my freedom, since you quite literally put a price on it.”

 Hisoka let out a soft snicker and promptly earned Chrollo’s undivided attention. Silva relaxed a little when the focus shifted off of him and onto the other Drow. He half felt sorry for Hisoka for what he figured was about to come.

 “Don’t you dare laugh, Hisoka,” Chrollo said coldly, his gaze as frigid as an icy wind. “I’m so angry I could break something.”

 Silva had never seen Chrollo so angry before, and from the looks of it, neither had Hisoka. The dining hall was deathly silent, Chrollo glaring down at the plate in front of him. He looked as if he were half considering lobbing it across the room. Silva got ready to move in case he did. There was no telling which of them would be the target, but he supposed if there was one sure-fire way to test who he was most mad at, it would be that.

 Instead of acting on the anger he no doubt felt, Chrollo instead crumpled. His shoulders fell and his angry frown turned into an expression of pure sadness. “It doesn’t feel like I’m home like this,” he whispered, his hands clenching on the edge of the table, knuckles white. “You’ve locked me in a cage and expected me to say thank you for it.” He looked up, meeting Hisoka’s eyes. “We’ve been together for fifty years and you still don’t even know me.”

 Silva’s eyes went wide when Chrollo grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him from his chair with a strength Silva hadn’t been expecting. “We’re leaving,” Chrollo told him, glaring back at Hisoka as he dragged Silva towards the door. “Don’t try to follow. I don’t want to see you if you’re going to act like this.”

 Hisoka stood up to protest, but they were already halfway to the door. “Chrollo, come on!” Hisoka called out. He had the sense to stay put, at least, not moving to follow them. “At least stay through dinner!”

 Chrollo shoved Silva towards the door, whirling around in a flare of silk and lace to glare daggers at his lover. “I’ll eat when and where I please, Hisoka,” he nearly snarled. “You’ve lost the right to share in my company.”

 And Silva hadn’t? He didn’t try to ask, though, not when Chrollo turned back towards him. Silva had seen kinder looking dragons than the Drow right now. He let Chrollo snatch up his arm again and drag him through the heavy doors, not bothering to take a last backwards glance at Hisoka as they did so.

 The pace was quick and the mood smothering. “Where are we going?” Silva asked gently, wincing when Chrollo’s nails began to cut into his arm. Was it just a Drow quirk to walk so fast?

 “To your room,” came the simple, barbed reply.

 “Can I ask why?”

 Chrollo snorted, turning a corner, the pace not letting up an inch. “Because nothing will sting him more than me willingly putting you before him,” he replied, smiling an unkind smile that seemed to waver, already on the verge of falling. “He’s… He’s too self-centered to think anything different.”

 Silva let that sit in the air for a moment, nearly tripping over his feet as Chrollo dragged them down another hall. He was beginning to recognize the portraits now. “Are… Are you okay?” he forced himself to ask, wincing again when the nails cut deeper.

 “No,” Chrollo said flatly, ending the conversation there before he drew blood.

 Silva was glad Chrollo seemed to know his way around, but when they stopped in front of his door, Chrollo didn’t bother asking before he opened it and shoved Silva inside. Silva stumbled and caught himself before he fell, turning around to see Chrollo following him inside too. A thousand thoughts tore through Silva’s mind at what Chrollo could be planning. Was he going to kill Silva himself?

 The moment the door closed was the moment Chrollo’s haughty, imperious mood crashed around his feet. Chrollo leaned against the door and covered his face with his hands, sliding down to sit on the ground. Silva didn’t know what to do, his instincts telling him to comfort while Chrollo’s body language screamed to go away.

 “Chrollo,” Silva called out gently, approaching slowly because he had to try something. Even if it were a trap, which he was beginning to doubt more and more every second, Silva was honor bound at this point to do whatever he could to make amends. “Do you want to be alone?”

 The Drow’s narrow shoulders hunched, his hands trembling in front of his face. “I want none of this to have happened,” he answered after a moment of nothing, his voice shaking as much as his body. “I want to wake up and still be on the surface with a man who wouldn’t sell me out and with a lover who had enough restraint to keep himself from dragging me back before I was ready.”

 Silva grimaced, his guilt doubling. He hadn’t wanted things to go like this. He hadn’t wanted Chrollo to be so miserable. Inching closer to the Drow, Silva sank to his knees and reached out a hand, resting it on Chrollo’s shoulder. When it wasn’t shaken off, Silva moved closer. Chrollo didn’t protest when Silva pulled him into his arms. He didn’t protest Silva stroking through his hair or kissing his head, offering what comfort he could.

 “I’m sorry,” Silva said, feeling Chrollo tremble. “For what little it’s worth now, I’m sorry.”

 “Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” Chrollo mumbled, holding Silva to him, refusing to let an inch of space between them.

 His skin was soft where the lace left off, and Silva stroked along his back, kissing his even softer hair again just because he could and Hisoka couldn’t. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this,” Silva said, meeting Chrollo’s eyes when the Drow deigned to glanced up at him, dark eyes liquid and as black as night. “I’m sorry for thinking that I knew best when it came to your happiness.”

 “You don’t,” Chrollo whispered, lips trembling a bit. “No one knows best but me.”

 “I know that now,” Silva hushed, moving a lock of Chrollo’s hair behind his delicate ear. He really was so pretty, wasn’t he? Soft lips, dark eyes, skin as smooth as the petals of a flower. Silva held back on the urge to kiss him, knowing now wasn’t the time. After all he had done to Chrollo, that time might not ever come again. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

 Chrollo’s face crumpled, and for a moment, Silva feared him on the verge of tears. His small form fell heavily against Silva’s chest, and Silva lifted him easily, toppling them back onto the bed until Chrollo was laid out along his chest like a small, miserable kitten. “T-then why doesn’t Hisoka?” he stammered, hiding his face in Silva’s shirt. “Why doesn’t he understand what he’s done wrong? I would’ve come back. Why didn’t he just wait for me to come back?”

 Because he was an idiot? Because he was selfish, possessive, jealous, controlling? A thousand answers flooded Silva’s mind but he held his tongue. He stroked Chrollo’s back and held him while he shivered, letting the Drow hide his face when the tears eventually began to fall. “It’s okay,” Silva soothed, knowing it was poor comfort to give. “He’s an asshole, but he does care about you, right? Maybe he just needs more time to realizes where he went wrong.”

 Chrollo managed a ragged laugh. Tear tracks lined his cheeks when he looked up, but he still smiled through it. “I never thought I’d hear you defending him,” he said, voice wavering as he hiccuped a little. Wiping his eyes, Chrollo looked around the room a little, slipping off Silva to settle in beside him, their legs still tangled together. “Can I…” he began, biting his lip even as he fought another sob. “Can I stay here tonight?”

 Silva would be a bigger fool than he already was if he even thought of saying no. “Of course you can,” he said softly, moving to get up. This was a big manor. Silva could find some other place to sleep. He had seen some sofas in a sitting room a hall or two away. It would be a tight fit, but he had slept on worse.

 Just as he was about to slip off the bed, a small, slender hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. “Where are you going?” Chrollo whispered, sitting up a little.

 “I was going to give you my room. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Chrollo was still upset with him. Silva wasn’t so much of an ass as to force the Drow to put up with his company when he wanted nothing to do with him.

 Chrollo averted his eyes, but his grip on Silva’s wrist was firm. “You don’t have to go,” he whispered softly after a moment of silence. He glanced back up at Silva, his trembling lips striving to look cocky. “Because, you know, nothing pisses Hisoka off more than us sharing a room.” Chrollo even managed a laugh. “It would be a good punishment for him. Once he realizes I’m not back in our room.”

 Silva smiled warmly at Chrollo, letting him have his excuse. “It would be,” he said, tugging his hand free so that he could shuck off his shirt and toss it to the floor. He paused a moment later, looking back at Chrollo. “Or… Did you want me to keep it on?” There were boundaries now. New ones that Silva had no idea how to navigate.

 But Chrollo just rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little as he laid back down in the bed. “I don’t care, so long as you don’t expect anything to happen,” he mumbled, tucking himself under the fine sheets. “I’m mad at Hisoka, but not mad enough to go that far.”

 “Fair enough.” Silva pulled back the sheets and slipped in himself, Chrollo’s body a smooth line against his shoulder. He turned onto his side out of habit, his arm tucking around Chrollo’s narrow waist loosely. Freezing again, he cleared his throat, the question on his lips but Chrollo already answering.

 “It’s fine. Just know I’ll figure out your punishment soon too,” Chrollo whispered, followed by some short, musical noise that must have been the Drow language. The lights went out a moment later, and Chrollo settled in against Silva’s front, his small hands resting atop Silva’s arm. If Silva imagined hard enough, he could pretend Chrollo was holding him there.

 If only that were true. Silva held back on the sigh in his throat and instead settled for kissing the back of Chrollo’s neck. “Good night, brat,” he whispered, closing his eyes. The day had been long and treacherous and filled with aggravation and relief in equal measure. It was well past the time to rest and his body seemed to agree.

 And if he heard a good night returned to him, he would chalk it up to pleasant dreams. To think otherwise would be pushing his luck.