#((//god the hatred is so thick between these two you can practically taste it))

[d--evotio-blog]

@exalted--zealotry// (cont. from here)

   “One more word and I shall make you apart of the sands you hate so,”

   “...Actually, those sands are too good for the likes of you. Your toxic, rotten blood will only taint the land. Perhaps I should just burn you where you stand, and your miserable whelps, while I’m at it.”

[xiaoderys]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: Football Captain!Jeno x Mean Girl/Cheer Captain!Reader

warnings: smut, going into subspace, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, cum swallowing, overuse of the word ‘baby’

word count: 2.8K

requested: yes

Everybody knows who you are— student body president, homecoming queen, cheerleading captain; you were the school’s it girl and you had everybody wrapped around your tiny little fingers with just a single look in your eye, but while you had everyone falling on their knees for you, Lee Jeno was not having any of your bullshit. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid you and since Jeno was the school’s hotshot, it came as a surprise to everyone that the infamous Mr. Golden Boy and the school’s most precious darling sweetheart hated each other’s guts.

But what people didn’t know was that behind all this facade you and Jeno both put up for the whole school, you were just a sucker for each other’s touch.

You swore to yourself that you would never even dare lay eyes on anyone from the football team, after everything you’ve experienced from Jeno, you just grew an overbearing hatred towards football players in general and much to your cheer squad’s dismay, your rule applied to them as well. Call it being too harsh but you’re the captain and what you say goes so you would always tell your girls: “Guys on the football team are off-limits. You think it’s cute for cheerleaders and football players to date? Then you’d be glad to know that you’re not the first girl they’ve fucked in the locker rooms.. and definitely not the last. If I find any one of you getting too close with one of those assholes, don’t even fucking dare show your face here ever again.” 

But you’re a hypocrite.

After one too many shots of some cheap alcohol and two horny teenagers at the homecoming games after party, you could only imagine what happened next.

Hands around your waist, body on top of his, tongues fighting for dominance; he tasted like beer and regret. You could’ve stopped it, you could’ve ran away, you could’ve told him no before he was shoving his tongue down your throat and fucking you senselessly on his roommates bed.. you could’ve done so many things to stop all of this before it even started but you didn’t. Because Lee Jeno is a drug and unfortunately for you, you just found your new addiction.

After that night, it became a habit, a ritual for the both of you. After every game or practice, you would meet up in the East building locker room and he would rail you until you were too sore to go to cheer practices the next day. Not your proudest moments but it’s just as if there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs whenever you were with him.

Now, it’s 4pm and you’re kneeled on the floor in between Jeno’s thighs as he guided your head up and down his thick length. You swirled your tongue around the slit, licking all the way from the base to the tip which resulted in unholy words and gutteral moans to leave his mouth. All the praises and lewd sounds escaping his lips were going straight to your core and you were so painfully aroused by now. You wanted to reach one hand down to relieve yourself while getting Jeno off but you know that’s just gonna cost you a mind blowing orgasm from him so you chose not to.

“Fuck, baby, just like that- shit!” head thrown back, fingers laced in your hair, sweat coating his well-defined abs; seeing him like this really makes you forget about all your built up frustrations towards him “Please keep going” his breathy whines sounded so angelic yet sinful at the same time.

He pulls your head up by your hair forcing you to make eye contact with him, lips still wrapped around his swollen cock “God you’re so pretty like this” he smiles “It’s almost as if you were made just for it” his features softened, admiring the sight before him, his adorable baby on her knees, teary-eyed, mascara running down her flushed cheeks, and mouth full of cock, Jeno swore the view alone could make him come right then and there but he had more plans for you.

“That feels so good, baby, keep doing that, fuck!” he groans, encouraging you to take his whole length until it hit the back of your throat. Jeno met each bob of your head with a thrust which had you gagging around him and that only added to his pleasure.

The sight of your swollen red lips wrapped around his thick cock so perfectly was enough to make him go feral so it wasn’t long before Jeno was bucking his hips up into you “Shit, I’m gonna come” he tightened his grip on your hair forcing you to go down on him faster and after a few more pumps, he was climaxing and you being the good girl that you are, swallowed everything he could give you, feeling the thick, hot liquid running down your throat. You licked up and down his length to collect all the cum that you didn’t catch, not letting a single drop go to waste then you stuck your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed it all. “Fuck that’s so hot” he growled.

You continued to suck his tip, trying to get as much out of him as possible but he removed you from his cock, pulling you up to straddle his lap “Come here, baby” he smashed your lips together and he could taste himself on you. He thought he actually tasted kinda nice

“You want my dick inside you, pretty girl?” he mumbles against you breathlessly and you try to nod, replying with a tiny ‘yes, please’ and he hovers you above his throbbing dick, spitting on his fingers and bringing them to your pussy so he can prep you because he knows your little cunt needs all the prepping it can get to take his fat cock. “You’re this wet just from sucking dick?”

“Just. Want. You. Inside. Please!” he chuckles at your neediness, fascinated by how he could have the school’s infamous snobby it girl drooling over his cock and all he had to do was whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re on the pill, right?” you nod at him and he bunched your skirt up to your waist, aligning himself with your heat as he slowly sunk you down on his length. 

No matter how wet you were or how many times Jeno fucked you, you still couldn’t seem to get used to his size, squirming as soon as he entered you. Small whimpers were falling from his lips due to oversensitivity and you could’ve sworn they were the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“S-so big! Feels so good!” Jeno’s a simple guy, feed his ego, tell him how big he is and how good he makes you feel and he’ll give you a good fuck.

He knew your body so well and found your sweet spot right away which had you almost screaming at the top of your lungs, thank god this area was secluded or else, anyone walking by outside would definitely know what the both of you were up to “Right there! ahghh please!” you squealed and he held your waist, thrusting up to meet your heat “Right here?” he asks, giving a particularly hard thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yes! oh my god!” you threw your head back in daze, leaving Jeno more room to mark his baby’s pretty neck. He sucked purple marks on your skin that would definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Please go faster!” you needily whine and to be honest, who was he to decline your request? He tightened his grip on your waist and guided you faster up and down his length.

“Fuck! Come here” he pulled your face closer to him and once again put your lips together. He could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him and as usual, he was right “G-gonna come, Jen, can I please come?!” you plead against him and you could feel his lips form a smirk “Of course, you can, baby. Come for me” that’s all it took for you to moan uncontrollably and release all your juices around Jeno’s cock.

But you noticed that his movements weren’t getting any slower, in fact, they were getting faster and faster and faster.

You laced your fingers in his hair, gripping them tightly “W-what are you doing?” you whimper “I’m fucking you, baby, what does it look like I’m doing?” he growls “B-but I already came!” you squealed and he pushed your body to lay you down on the bench, hooking your legs around his waist as he hovers above you, face inches away from yours “You don’t mind doing it a few more times for me, right baby?” he stills for a second, waiting for assurance. His features softened and holy fuck, you swore you couldn’t breathe. You shook your head with wide eyes leaving him with a grin “That’s a good pup” he kissed the tip of your nose before he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His tip repeatedly brushed against your sweet spot, leaving you gasping for air and clinging onto his body like your life depended on it “Jeno..“ you sob, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge again.

“Fuck! How are you this pretty?” He brought one of his hands to your face, removing all the strands of hair covering it. Seeing you like this, drove him insane and all he could do was chuckle at your wrecked state “Look at you, all desperate and whiny under me. I wonder how your little cheer squad would react if they find out that their snobby little captain who talks big game about hating football players is just a little whore for me?” you couldn’t even reply to tell him otherwise because you both knew he was right, he was always fucking right and you hated it.

You could feel your next orgasm approaching, you try to warn him yet nothing but incoherent words and cries of his name fell from your mouth “J-jeno plea-hmnngg!” He watched you intently, brows furrowed, mouth agape and tears falling on the sides of your face “What is it, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want” he taunts “I’m so close!” you gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer “Don’t hold back, doll. Show me how good I make you feel.” You felt your walls tighten around him once again and you were cumming for the second time.

You thought he would stop there but it still wasn’t enough for Jeno. He loved seeing your flustered face; your whines and pants were like music to his ears, it would be a shame if he stopped now.

The sweat forming on his forehead was dripping down onto you, his thrusts weren’t letting up and you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was all fuzzy and all you could think about was Jeno.

He had you writhing underneath him, cock still deep inside your sensitive pussy, pounding into you mercilessly even after having come two times already.

Your whole body was shaking, you could only take so much. You let out cries and whines yet it only seemed to inflate Jeno’s ego and drive him to go faster and harder. “J-Jeno! I can’t take it anymore!” you thrashed under him but his big, strong arms held you in place “Yes you can, baby, just one more” He knew your body better than anyone else, he knows when you’ve had enough and he knows you can take more-- he knows you want more. “Just one more, okay?”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper until you were nothing but a whiny, sobbing mess. The overwhelming pleasure filled your senses. You held onto him tighter as soon as you felt another high approaching. Your mind was all over the place and you felt like you were gonna black out. You dug your nails into his biceps and they were sure to leave marks. “Too much, too much, too much!” you chant like a mantra “Just a little more, baby” he tries to reassure you but you were feeling dizzy at this point and his words almost stopped making sense.

You could feel every vein on his cock grazing your walls so deliciously. Every praise and groans that fell from his lips were the only things you could comprehend. “You’re doing so well, baby.. almost there” Your eyes were now rolling to the back of your head, your body stopped shaking and you were in a state of pure bliss, you felt dizzy and your vision was slowly fading to black “J-jeno…” you mumble “Yes, baby, you’re doing so so good, stay with me, just a little more” All you could think about was Jeno and the overwhelming pleasure from his cock rubbing against your tight walls and right at that exact moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered but the both of you.

You felt spurts of cum being released inside you and you so almost passed out “Fuck, baby. you feel so good” he was panting and kept thrusting sloppily into you “That felt so damn good, baby” as he was coming down from his high, he noticed that you weren’t responding so he cupped your cheeks “Good job, baby, you took me so well” you were still deep into subspace and Jeno tried to be gentle with you as much as he could “You’re okay, baby. I’m here. Just breathe, okay?” He tucked the messy strands of hair covering your face and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

He pulls out ever so slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. He watched his cum drip out of your cunt and he swore he almost came for the third time “God look at that, my cum’s dripping from your tiny pussy. One of these days, I’m gonna have to buy you a plug so you can keep everything I give you inside” he slowly collected both of your juices mixed together on his fingers and hovered it in front of your lips “Open up, baby” you still couldn’t understand anything and it took you a while to register what was happening but as soon as you did, you opened up your mouth and started sucking on his fingers “Does it taste good?” you nod frantically and kept mumbling incoherent words which made Jeno coo at you.

He took his fingers away from your mouth and you whined “m-more please! more!” Jeno chuckled at how needy you were but he didn’t want to push you way beyond your limits ”You’ve already done enough, baby. You can calm down now, okay? just breathe” a few minutes pass by of Jeno trying to bring you back into reality and you finally calmed down.

He pampered you with kisses and praises, making sure you were okay after coming down from your state of pure ecstasy. “You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you” he smiles sweetly as he wipes your mascara stained cheeks with his thumb “Thank you, Jen” you murmur, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning your head to face him “Nothing” Jeno could tell something was bothering you but he just shrugs it off because he knows your relationship was strictly physical and you would never open up to him anyway.

“Okay, well, I need to get going now,” he gets off of you “I still need to help Jaemin prepare for the party tonight” you tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly so you stumbled a little but thankfully, Jeno was there to catch you “Woah, careful there. Do you need help getting home?” Yes, you do, but you weren’t gonna tell him that “No, I’ll be fine” you shook your head with a small smile.

“You’re still coming later, right?” you fixed your clothes and tried to collect your thoughts and you shot him a confused look “Hmm?” he chuckled, clearly your mind was still in shambles from earlier “the party tonight” your body still felt sore but you just couldn’t say no “Oh yeah, of course, how could I miss it?” He smiled at you, throwing his shirt back on “Good, you know where my room is, I’ll see you again at 7?”

You watched as he tried to tidy himself up and collect his belongings, thoughts running around your head, wanting to tell him so badly to stay and just talk for a while, to sort things out between the two of you because god knows you could only contain your emotions for so long, but instead, you just nod at him and smile “I’ll see you at 7” he returns your smile and walks out, leaving you there to mentally curse yourself for not having the courage to tell him how you feel but this is what you signed up for. You made your bed and now you have to lay on it.

[songbirdstyles]

rock you (like a hurricane)

summary: you hate harry and he hates you. the two of you decide to channel it into something good.

warnings: hate-fucking, choking, dirty talking, breathplay

word count: 2.3k

song inspo.: rock you like a hurricane - scorpions

His hand around your throat is brutal - nearly violent, to be truthful - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

Your vision clouds as Harry’s grasp tightens and for a moment you wonder if he’ll go all the way, make you pass out and collapse into his arms like a damsel in distress and you’re not sure you’d hate it - you hate the way his thigh is pressed between your legs even more, his free hand gripping your hips and forcing them to rock over his jean covered skin, panties all but soaked with the arousal he’s mustered up.

You should be embarrassed. God, don’t you hate him? You hate that he’s so cocky, that he thinks he’s always right, that he can’t stand ever letting you have the spotlight. It’s always about him and you want to reach up and smack that smug smirk across his face as he grins down at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of hatred and straight fiery lust and you’re sure the combination is reflected in your face. Yes, you hate him more than you’ve hated anyone else but you can’t stop the moan from forcing its way from your throat as his grip loosens for just a second, allowing you to suck in one deep breath of air before his hand closes again, and you drop your hands from clutching his biceps to the button and zipper on his jeans.

“God, you’re impatient,” Harry murmurs, eyes flitting down to where you’re shakily unzipping his pants, a task made even more difficult by the way he positively refuses to stop rocking his thigh into your cunt and you add the incessant teasing motion to your growing list of reasons you should spit in his face. You drop your head back against the wall he has you pressed up against as his head drops to suckle a hickey into your neck, and his next words are muffled against your skin. “Gonna cream y’pants jus’ from grindin’ against m’thigh, are you?”

Your chest heaves as you reach down, grabbing the waistband of his pants and boxers and tugging them down his hips and you relish in the soft hiss he releases into your neck - “Fuck you,” you breathe, wrapping your fist around his cock and squeezing hard enough to hear him yelp into your neck before beginning to pump him up and down, hips still jerking against his thigh. “I hate you -”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you -”

It’s such a cliche rebuttal that you could nearly laugh but then Harry drops his leg from between your thighs and you stumble forward into him - barely a moment goes by before he pushes you fully up against the wall, hand on your neck sliding to your thigh and forcing your leg up around his hip. It’s a position you’d have taken anyway but you hate him bossing you around and if you had any more willpower you’d thrust your leg back down, but then he’s pulling your skirt up around your waist and hooking your panties to the side and - well - it’s not in you to care too much.

Your breath hitches in your throat as Harry’s finger dips through your soaked folds, collecting the moisture on the tip of his finger before focusing it on your clit. His digit swirls over the sensitive nub and your hips buck into his hand - you can practically feel his smirk before you glance back at him and confirm it for yourself. “S’all for me?” he questions, voice high pitched and mocking and you squeeze your eyes shut, pussy fucking throbbing for him and why does he have to be such an asshole all the fucking time -

You’ve never hated anyone more than him, and yet you’ve never wanted someone to fuck your brains out more than him, either.

“Gonna have t’tell me what y’want,” he tells you, finger pressing harder on your clit and you clench around absolutely nothing, a whine forcing its way from your throat into the thick air of your hotel room. “Want me t’finger you ‘till y’cum?”

“No,” you refuse, swiping your thumb along the slit of his dick and you can hear the way he tries to suppress his moan but he doesn’t try hard enough - “No, Harry, please.”

“What d’you want?”

“Harry -”

“Tell me.”

It’s humiliating and you can tell he gets off on it, watching you squirm under his gaze and you can’t meet his eyes as you moan, “Fuck me, please!”

It’s embarrassment coursing through your body at his chuckle, practically overflowing with cockiness and overconfidence and you wish you weren’t so fucking needy for him. Wish you could knock him down a peg, try your hardest to look unsatisfied after, but simply judging from the way he thrusts into you - hard and forceful, hand pulling your leg further up his waist to push himself deeper inside of you - you know that you’re nowhere near that decent of an actress.

The pair of you moan in unison, his raspier and deeper and yours mixed with a strangled sob as your cunt pulses with need, his fingers briefly halting their movements on your clit but you don’t quite need the extra stimulation - you’ve been with plenty of guys before, had all shapes and sizes inside of you and holy shit it’s never felt this good - and as he pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting spots you never even knew existed you toss your head back, a needy cry falling from your throat once more.

He doesn’t bother taking it slow - there’s no easy beginning so you can get used to his size, slow thrusts picking up into rapid slaps of skin against skin, and instead he pulls out and slams back into you with the force of a thousand suns, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world about whether you need a second to adjust. And you’d rather throw yourself out of the seventh story window than admit to him he’s the biggest guy you’ve been with so you take the brief moment of discomfort and - well - it doesn’t really matter, anyway, as it develops into a pleasure so overwhelming you can nearly taste it on your tongue and you clench around his cock, swallowing the cry in your throat.

“Fuck -” Harry groans, head dropping into your neck again and instead of feeling his lips on your skin it’s his teeth, nibbling at the column of your throat and you tilt your head to the side, giving him easier access, “ - such a tight fuckin’ hole f’me, aren’t you?”

“I - I fucking hate you -” you mutter through gritted teeth, moan bubbling in the back of your throat but you force it back. You hate giving him the satisfaction of knowing how fucking good he’s making you feel but you’re sure he can tell anyway - it isn’t as though you dripping onto his cock is too easy to hide.

“Moan f’me,” he tells you, lifting his head up so his eyes can meet your glare and one particular slap of his hips into yours has your mouth dropping open in a desperate moan and the hardened facade you’d been trying to maintain falls away as easy as it had appeared. “Yeah, tha’s good. Want everyone in this fuckin’ hotel to know how hard you’re gettin’ fucked.”

Shut up, you want to tell him but you can’t muster up the words to do it - do you like hearing him talk like that to you? It’s starting to seem like it and maybe you should be embarrassed but no, you really like it. Instead you raise your arms to wrap around his wrist where his fingers are still pressed to your clit and his eyes move up to meet yours. “Choke me, Harry, please.”

God, he looks like a little kid on Christmas at the words - though you’ve never seen a little kid look quite so arrogant - and you hardly needed to finish the request before his hand raises to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck as yours loosen around his wrist. It’s what you craved, feeling his palm around your throat restricting your airflow in a way that’s so fucking spectacular you see stars, and it’s just about worth the mocking in Harry’s voice. “This is what y’needed, hmm? Needed me to choke you - like a little slut, hmm?” And when you don’t respond immediately his grip loosens and you groan.

You nod vehemently and Harry’s grasp tightens to the point it was at before, grip on your neck holding your head to the wall as his hips pick up their pace slamming into your cunt with no mercy, as if you’re merely a hole for him to fuck and not a person but surely the way your veins jump against his hand is proof enough that you’re real. 

There’s no holding back from then on, cries and gasps and moans filling the thick air of the hotel room but the sound of skin hitting skin overpowers it all - there’s a soft ringing in your ears whenever Harry tightens his grip just so and it’s like music to your fucking ears - feeling like you’re about to pass out had never felt so fucking good but he makes it so good. Always loosens up just before you reach that point (and you suppose you should be grateful for that but you can’t bring yourself to be) and you have to shut your eyes so you don’t see that fucking smirk as you heave for air.

“M’gonna cum,” he hisses, hiking your leg further up his waist when it begins to slide down - the burn in your muscles only adds to your heightening pleasure. “Want me t’fill y’up, hmm, like the whore you are? Yeah, tha’s wha’ I thought.”

Your shaking hand slides down your stomach to toy with your clit, pinching the sensitive nub and your body jerks into his, hips pressing forward in a way that pushes him deeper inside of you and you’re so close - all you need is one final push and you know you’ll be there, quivering beneath him like a fucking dumbass and scavaging for whatever remains of your dignity after having your brains fucked out by the man you hate most in the world and you don’t look forward to the aftermath but God, feeling him fill you up over and over is worth whatever happens after, isn’t it?

His grip loosens just as your vision starts to go hazy and you gasp in a breath before tightening your grip on his wrist, keeping his hand from returning to your throat briefly and you can sense his confusion. His eyes narrow down into yours as his hips pick up speed and you’ve never hooked up with him before but you’ve been with enough guys to know he’s almost there - so close it’s overwhelming, the urge to release like an instinct - so you shakily steady your breathing, throat already beginning to feel sore from the intensity of the noises you’d been producing before breathing, “Fucking - fucking cum in me, Harry. I want you to.”

You can tell it’s the confirmation he needed and he doesn’t respond, merely shakes off your grip on his wrist and slams down on your throat again as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt. Bottoms out fully, your bodies so close you can feel his heartbeat through his shirt and that’s when you cum, orgasm washing through you like a tidal wave intent on destruction and that’s exactly what it gets - it’s euphoria running through your veins, legs shaking and eyes blurring and you could nearly collapse into him but Harry’s holding you up - both by his hand on your throat and the one grasping your leg. Then he cums, hot ribbons of cum spurting deep inside of you and it only prolongs your orgasm, hearing him gasp and groan like you’ve never heard him before.

You feel high as a goddamn kite when Harry pulls out of you. It’s a feeling of emptiness that you despise, cunt pulsing on its own as he takes a step away from you and you nearly fall to the ground trying to take a step - he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t seem to particularly care, and that’s fine. You’re, truthfully, perfectly content with having him get the hell out of your room and not having to see him again until morning, especially when he turns back around to watch you stumble your way over to your bed, skirt still hiked high up on your hips and exposing your lower body to him.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter when you finally seat yourself on the edge of the bed, attempting to discreetly perch yourself so it doesn’t hurt - you’ve never been railed quite this hard and you’ve never experienced the aftermath of having it ache, just a tad, to sit - but you can tell by the way Harry’s eyes flit towards you, brows raising just a tad as he pulls up his boxers and jeans that he noticed the motion. And that makes you angry all over again, reminds you of exactly why you hated him enough to let him screw your brains out, and you collapse onto your back with a dramatic sigh. “You know, I’ve had better sex.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry tells you, and you can’t help the smile from pulling your lips upwards as you hear the door to your room open and shut in quick succession.

[valwentinefics]

Okay I'm a sucker for Zemo, and I keep refreshing Tumblr for new stories. Thank you for writing about him!

Could you do one with enemies to lovers, where both Zemo and the f reader won't admit anything to themselves? However when they go undercover in the club, to keep the disguise they have to dance together. At first Zemo does his dance, but the reader takes the reins and teaches him how to blend in better. Steamy time ensues after that, possibly ending with smut/slight breeding kink? Or just possesive smut 😅😂.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request I loved writing it! There really needs to be more Zemo fics, hopefully the next episodes don’t ruin him! This is also like my second time writing smut so i’m sorry if it’s not the best!

The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest - Helmut Zemo x Reader 18+

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, tiny bit of choking, alcohol consumption, possessive behavior, dom! Zemo, sub! reader, light degradation, biting

Translations: Hase (Bunny/Hare), Mein schatz (my sweetheart), Liebling (darling)

Word count: 1848

REQUESTS OPEN

Y/n didn’t like Zemo. Y/n abhorred Zemo and everything he did. She hated his smug face, his head tilt, his stupid jacket that only had fur around the collar. Y/n despised Zemo, yet she couldn’t help the thoughts that creeped into her mind at night of his warm gloved hands roaming her body and his accented voice whispering what he would do to her in her ear. Those thoughts made her find Zemo even more insufferable than she already had.

Y/n could feel the bass throughout her body as she stood at the edge of the club, nursing a drink while she swayed softly to the beat. Stuff like this wasn’t her scene, she preferred the quiet warmth of curling up by a fireplace with a cup of tea, no sound but her own thoughts. Here, everything was practically screaming at her, it was almost overstimulating, but she stayed, not wanting to miss anything that could go down.

She almost decided to change her mind and abandon the godforsaken mission  when Zemo appeared at her side, doing an awkward little dance. Y/n watched him incredulously for a few moments, taking a sip of her overly sweet drink as she pictured all the ways she could punch him so he would stop dancing like that.

“Y/n could you not look at me with such hatred for one night?” Asked Zemo, his accented voice only just rising above the music. 

“That’s a lot to ask of a girl Zemo.” Y/n replied with disinterest, wanting this conversation to be over so she could go back to standing silently alone.

“Our disguise depends on us being friendly, well, friendly is too weak of a word. Will you cooperate or would you like to blow this whole operation?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he bore into Y/n’s eyes.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system, or maybe he was playing mind tricks, but as Y/n looked back into his eyes she could feel a warm feeling in her chest. Y/n held his gaze for a few moments before relenting, reluctantly realizing he had a point. With a sigh she held out her hand to the man. 

“I’m not a good actress Zemo, you better sweep me off my feet,” Y/n huffed, downing the rest of her drink and placing it on the table nearby. Zemo gave her a mischievous smile before pulling her into the crowd of people.

“Call me Helmut, it’s more natural.” He told her, his gloved hand resting on her waist and holding her close as he began to move his body to the upbeat music. Y/n followed his lead, her mind racing as she couldn’t remove her thoughts from the close proximity of them. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as her chest was shoved into his as someone pushed past her. If their closeness affected Zemo he didn’t show it as he continued to dance, moving his arm in a weird way.

“Ze- Helmut stop that, god you’re horrible at this. Your bad dancing is just going to bring more attention to us.” Y/n groaned, grabbing his arm and holding it still.

Zemo looked at her with a scoff. “You don’t seem like much of a dancer liebling, how do you suppose I should dance?”

Y/n knew her options were limited, and she cursed herself for speaking out on Zemo’s dancing. She had backed herself into the corner, and there was only one way out. Y/n spun around, her back flush against Zemo’s chest as she began to sway her hips to the beat. A groan sounded from behind her, so quiet Y/n wouldn’t have thought it to be real if not for the hot breath on her neck that came with it. 

She ignored the blush of her cheeks and the wetness she felt pooling between her thighs as Zemo managed to pull her even closer, his hips rubbing against her backside with controlled smooth movements. Y/n tried to tell herself she was getting no pleasure from this, but as she felt his bulge harden against her, it was hard to ignore the desire she felt for the Sokovian man.

She spun around to face him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, feeling too ashamed to have her face revealed to the world while she desired to be fucked thoroughly by the man who had destroyed the Avengers. In a way that turned her on even more, the sheer power the man possessed. She let out a small mewl into his neck as that thought, trying to focus on dancing instead of her desire and Zemo’s hand tortuously creeping to her ass.

“You feel it too, Y/n. The desire.” The Baron mumbled to the girl who tucked herself into his chest. 

“I can’t- I hate you…” Y/n replied, more trying to convince herself of it than him as she pulled away.

“Mein schatz, it’s the forbidden fruit that always tastes the sweetest.” Zemo whispered into her ear, pressing a small kiss right below her earlobe.

Y/n couldn’t handle it, she was soaked and desperate for his touch. Y/n grabbed at the fabric of his sweater, pulling herself into him. “Fuck me then, Helmut.” She muttered, looking up at him. Y/n hadn’t seen Zemo move so fast, his hand resting on her lower back as he quickly ushered her to a spare room and swiftly locked the door behind them. 

“Hase, you can back out of this any time, although I’ll be sad to see you leave. Oh God how I’ve wanted you on my cock since I first saw you.” Zemo spoke as he pinned Y/n to the wall, his thigh positioned between her legs, Y/n began to desperately grind against it. His accent came out more as he grew more aroused.

“Shut up Zemo, you running your mouth will ruin this.” Y/n tried to be intimidating, but as she pathetically grinded on his thigh she didn’t do a good job of it.

Zemo let out a chuckle, his hand gently yet sternly holding Y/n’s throat “Learn your place hase, and this will go well for the both of us.”

Y/n looked at his arm and back to his eyes, biting her lip. The lightheaded feeling she felt from being choked seemed to amplify her other senses, especially her need for him. With a small nod she agreed to stay in line.

The Baron smiled, letting go of her throat and shoving her to the bed, crawling on top of her, his gloved hand trailing painstakingly slow up her thigh, hooking a finger around the waistband of her panties and pulling them off. Y/n began to undress him as well, the two stripping each other of their clothes until they were both naked. Y/n pumped his thick cock with one hand, staring up at him with eyes full of desire. For now she had shoved her inhibitions to the back of her mind, not wanting to acknowledge them. Right now all that mattered was Zemo and the pleasure he could bring her. 

“Helmut, Baron, please I need you in me.” Y/n looked up at him with pleading eyes, the arousal she felt almost too much to bear. Zemo looked down at her with a small grin, positioning himself over her. She was caged in by his arms, his cock slightly pushing at her entrance. 

“Do you want me to fill you? Do you want your baron’s cum to fill up your needy little cunt? Dirty girl.” He chuckled as she squirmed at his words, her cheeks flushing with the embarrassment of what she wanted being so obvious he had said it out loud.

Y/n nodded below him, biting down on her lip as Zemo shoved himself into her with one quick thrust. She gripped at the sheets below her as he filled her, a long moan slipping its way past her lips. When Zemo had begun to pull out she let out a little whine, only to soon let out a yelp as he harshly shoved himself in. He continued his deep rough thrusts at a fast pace making Y/n unable to form any thoughts, only a string of moans escaping her.

“Baron, god, fuck, you fill me up so well.” she struggled to get the words out through her moans. Zemo seemed to like her inability to speak well, his cocky grin never leaving his face as he pounded into her, his grunts like music to Y/n’s ears. It was then she realized she was under Zemo’s thumb, she would do anything to experience this moment again and again, but oddly enough there was nowhere else she would rather be.

“You’re so insufferable, but right now, like this, you’re nothing but mein little hase. My little fucktoy, all mine.” Baron groaned out, leaning down from his position above her to bite her neck. Y/n knew it would leave a mark, she could feel a trickle of blood roll down to her collarbone, but she didn’t have the ability to care about anything but Zemo. “Tell me you’re mine, Hase. Who do you belong to? Who owns you, liebling?”

“You do Baron, I belong to you, you own me!” Y/n squealed out as she felt a tightening in her stomach, knowing her orgasm was close. Zemo seemed to know too as he reached down a hand and began to rub her clit just roughly enough as he pounded into her harder, causing her to drool a little from the pleasure she was receiving,

“Cum for me little hase, cum for me and I’ll fill you up with my cum. I’ll breed you like the little whore you are” He commanded with a growl. Y/n arched her back as she let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasurable release of her orgasm. She was panting as Zemo gripped her hips roughly and held her still as he spilled his warm cum into her. Y/n could feel the white liquid spill out of her once he pulled out. She didn’t care about how much of a mess she was, her brain was still fuzzy from her orgasm and the wild pleasure she had received from Zemo. 

Zemo had gotten mostly dressed, putting on his shirt as he admired his handiwork, seemingly unable to remove his eyes from the sight Y/n on the bed, his mark on her neck, his fingers bruised into her hips, and his cum trickling out of her. He pulled his jacket off his shoulders and laid it on Y/n’s pliant body, allowing her to rest.

“You’re mine hase.” Zemo stood in the doorway of the room, Y/n too fucked out to fully understand what he was saying “And I don’t like to give up what’s mine.” He closed the door gently behind him as he went back to the party.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Kinktober Day 3

Yan! Hoodie: Recording

Hnng this one isn’t as yandere as I would’ve liked it to be, but I’m still happy with the way it came out uwu

Quick warning for dub-con ahead!!

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

Rage boils in your system

The red light flickers on, device coming to life before you, and you swear to god, you’d rip the man’s eyes out if they weren’t hidden beneath that inky black mask

“You gonna give me a pretty smile, sweet cheeks?” he chuckles

A gloved hand grips your jaw, squishing your cheeks and yanking you up to face the lens of his handheld camera

“F-fuck you!” you spit

You try to jerk yourself from his grasp but he only chuckles again, the reverberating sound only fueling your burning hatred

Even through his black leather glove, you can still feel the warmth of his hand as he grabs your thighs and pulls you flush against him

Your legs are forcefully split open despite your protests, his toned arms giving you no leverage to escape as he settles between them, grounding his pelvis just inches from your core

His touch fitters over your body, exploring you, feeling you like you’re his

Some part of your traitorous body reacts well to him, your sex fluttering in eager anticipation, and you loath it

He reaches for your shirt, and you hardly have time to register the sound of ripping fabric as he tears it off like it‘s nothing, leaving your chest entirely bare to him and the camera

“S-stop it!” you shriek frantically, squirming and jerking beneath him, but your cries don’t seem to phase him in the least

“Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t act up on camera, baby” he croons, pushing two fingers past your lips, “What if someone watches this, hm? They’re gonna think I’m a monster for taking advantage of a sweet little doll now, aren’t they?~”

You squeeze your eyes shut as leather assaults your tongue, forcing its way deeper into your mouth until you’re gagging and spluttering around his digits

“But we both know you’re really just a slut for me, aren’t you, baby? Hm?”

He punctuates the word slut with a rough thrust of his fingers that has you choking around him

You whine and twist and whimper beneath him, tears springing to your eyes, but he doesn’t let up

“Show them how deep you can take things into that pretty mouth of yours, beautiful”

Everything inside you screams to spit him out—shove him off of you and get his sickly taste from of your mouth

But he keeps pumping his coarse fingers in and out, reaching the very back of your throat with harsh pumps and teasing strokes, and the most you can do is grip onto his forearm and gasp desperately for air

You hate him

And you hate his damn camera for crystallizing the sight of you, so utterly helpless beneath him, for him to rewatch whenever he pleases

Finally, finally, he pulls his fingers free, a string of saliva connecting you before splitting, and then he’s roughly tugging your skirt down, panties included, until you’re completely exposed beneath his consuming gaze

“That’s a good girl~”

His husky coaxing and mocking words of encouragement do little to quell your shame and humiliation as he gathers up your slick on the same two fingers he’d previously crammed down your throat

He changes the focus of his camera from your face to the mess between your legs and you cringe at the thought that anyone really could see this

But then you swallow thickly and try to steel your nerves, glaring at him

You can’t let him break you

So as he pushes and prods at your folds, rubbing your clit with that coarse texture that almost has you mewling, you keep your mouth clamped shut and force yourself not to cave

Even as he pushes a thick gloved finger into your entrance, and even as he adds a second one and slowly starts pumping them in and out, stretching you open, preparing you for what’s to come

You do everything you can to stop yourself from moaning beneath him and giving him a good show

“Mmh... look at that. So nice and soaked for me~”

He moves the handheld to focus on your reaction again and you swear to god, even with his mask on, you can hear the self-satisfaction in his voice

You bite your lip until copper fills your mouth, determined not to show how good he feels, even as your brows furrow and your core cinches tightly around him

And then without much of a warning, he twists his fingers right against a spot that sets off something wonderful throughout your whole body

Your head’s thrown back, eyebrows kneading together as a sickly moan falls from your swollen lips

“There it is, atta girl~ Show how good you are for me; so fucking perfect. And you’re mine—all mine and mine alone~”

He curls his fingers and you clench around him again—hard—your legs practically shaking from the stimulus

You can’t conceal your reaction—the best you can do is force a hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut to prevent him from seeing how easily you unravel beneath his touch

Stop stop stop stop—!

To your relief and, admittedly, mild disappointment, he does pull his fingers free, leaving you empty and trying not to buck up into him for more

He takes one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger instead, the glove soaked wet from your arousal, and tugs and twists at the sensitive bud

You mewl, body shuddering as you’re all but forced to meet his piercing void of a gaze

“You ready for me, baby?” he mocks teasingly, almost cooing at your pathetically writhing mess of a form

You don’t want to admit how much you really do want him as he pulls himself free from his jeans

The tip of his thick cock brushes over your folds, teasing up and down your slit and gathering up as much of your shameful slick as he can

Then in one slow, calculated thrust, he pushes his entirety through your velvety walls

The angle he’s positioned at gives him the perfect view of your expression to record as his girth spreads you apart

“God, you’re so fucking nice and tight for me~ So fucking perfect, baby”

He tilts the camcorder down and flicks at your clit with his thumb, slowly rocking his hips so that he’s pushing in and out only a few inches at a time

Your cunt envelopes him all too eagerly, swallowing in his cock before he pushes out, only to thrust back in all over again

You can’t see it, but you can feel him coated in your arousal, the betrayal of your desires, all on film for anyone to watch and enjoy later on

He groans deeply, and the sound has your walls fluttering disgustingly tight around him

“Such a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

He snaps his pelvis and it has your back arching as you try to grasp onto the sheets, another sickly moan falling for him

He keeps up with the tortuously slow, deep pace until you’re so unbearably horny, your cunt drooling eagerly around him, that you hardly have it in you to care about how much you hate him and his stupid camera anymore

“Can you say my name for me, baby? Hm? Say my name like a good little slut, (y/n)~”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see the red light recording you, soaking you all in, and so you don’t have to admit that your pride’s caving and you’re tempted to obey him

His thumb rubs over your clit again as he brings his hips to a deep and dirty grind into you

You swallow back a shameless slew of moans and whimpers for more

Maybe if you don’t give him what he wants, he’ll stop, or he’ll get bored, and he’ll finally let you go

So you cling onto the last shred of hope you have, trying to ignore the way he works himself into you, and the way his hand feels brushing over your clit, all the way up your navel to toy with your breast, groaning quietly at how you’re such a perfect cocksleeve for him

You force your eyes closed, trying not to buck into him, not to give in, not to moan and beg despite the unbearable heat building in your core that has you clenching and buckling

It’s only when you feel him shift and set the camera down that you almost trick yourself into believing he gave up

But he suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, making you yelp as he tugs you up and forces you on your hands and knees, ass up, facing the camera settled on the nightstand

“You wanna play hard to get, don’t you, baby? Why don’t we show the camera what naughty fucking brats get when they don’t obey~ In case you’ve forgotten, you’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you, sweet cheeks”

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [14]

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

For the next few months, things fall into a routine.   A routine of dates and late night dinners with Jimin, of chatting with Taehyung over morning coffee and having lunch with Yeonjeon at small cafés, of performing in the evenings and standing on stage, and hearing the roaring applause by the end of the night. But eventually when the production ends, the routine shatters.   The very last performance is sad and bittersweet. You almost cry to which Yeonjeon calls you a wuss, despite her own eyes being glossy. But this definitely isn’t the last production you’ll be on — it’s only the beginning of something great.   “Y/N!”   Your thoughts are shattered when Jimin yells from the other end of the apartment. It’s a kind of scream that isn’t high pitched or made from terror, but a sort of alarm that has your feet moving quickly nonetheless.   “What is it?”   The boy looks at you from across the bedroom. He lowers his phone from his ear to his side. His plump lips twitch before spreading into a grin, and he laughs. “I just….I just got accepted.”   “For that movie role?” You grip the door frame, a smile pulling onto your features.   It’s not unusual for Broadway actors to step out into the mainstream industry. To be on the big screen is something else. And he keeps you in suspense, hopeful anticipation, until he nods slowly.   You run over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. Jimin picks you right up your feet, giggling and spinning you around. “I knew you could do it.”   “You’re not jealous, are you?” He puts you back down, gazing into your eyes with a teasing smile.   You lightly scoff. “Why would I be jealous of my boyfriend? I’m proud and happy for you.”   “I know.” His shit eating grin makes his cheeks rosy. “I was just kidding.”   “Plus, I have that audition tomorrow,” you add.   “You’ll do great.” Jimin leans in, tilting his head at an angle to kiss you. You whimper against his mouth and he smiles against your lips. You end up falling back onto the mattress and he hovers above you, the soft strands of his hair brushing against your forehead and making you ticklish.   Sometimes it’s hard to look at your past self. You can’t help but feel ashamed.   You don’t know how it’s possible that you could’ve been so jealous and envious of Jimin — to the point where that resentment built into such a blind and groundless hatred. Things were different then, maybe you were projecting your own failures and unfulfillment to him. But you figure that regret of your past self is a way to show that you’ve grown, that you’ve developed.   Now you know the kind of person you don’t want to be.   “I’m home.”   “I’m in the kitchen,” Jimin shouts and you take off your shoes right next to his, your coat hanging up on his rack. Your footsteps pad on his floorboards and he turns to glance at you while frying something on the stove. “So...how was the audition?”   “Not bad,” you hum while putting your bag on the counter. “It went well enough that they told me I got a part.”   It’s said so casually that he merely makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. But then a second passes and the boy whips his head over, eyes wide. His lips fall into a straight line.   “What?”   You laugh, an enormous smile plastered on your face. “I got a part.”   Park Jimin abandons the hot pan on the stove. He comes over to encircle his arms around your body and squeeze giggles out of you. “It—It’s really not that big. They told me they’d love to have me as Rapunzel for their Into The Woods Productions—”   “That’s a perfect role!” He parts, holding your cheeks in the palm of his hands. He lowers himself to connect your eyes together.   You’re sheepish from his praise and intent stare. “It’s just a supporting role and I don’t even sing….”   “That’s okay! You still did it! God, I’m so proud of you!”   You’re in love with Jimin. So much that it’s sickly.   He’s the first person you wanted to tell. The person you know who would undoubtedly be happy for you. The person who’s arguably more excited than you are. There’s no one else you’d rather share the news with.   “You’re going to burn the food!”   “Oh.” He pales and rushes back. “You should’ve called to let me know! We would’ve gone out to eat instead.”   “Nah.” You lean your elbows on the counter. You wanted to see his face when you told him, wanted to see the way his eyes would light up. Plus… “I love your home cooked meals.”   There’s nothing better than to come back from a long day of work to a cute brunette in his soft, dark blue pajamas earnestly trying to scrape something up in the kitchen. Even if his food is always undercooked or burnt somehow, the thought behind it makes the taste like none other.   “You have to kiss someone, right?”   “Rapunzel’s prince,” you say with a snicker. “I hope he’s handsome.”   Jimin scoffs, but then says, “Guess we’ll have to practice lots then.”   “We practiced lots when you had your kissing scene.”   “Yeah, but it’s different. Now’s your turn, so we’re going to have to start the practice from scratch.”   He’s a sly bastard who always comes up with countless excuses to keep you on his couch after dinner and in his lap instead of sleeping like you should be — it’s too bad that you don’t mind it either.   “We’re going to be busy from now on, huh?” You play with your food for a moment, finally realizing just how your schedules will be for the next few months. “With your movie role and my part in the production…”   “We’ll make it work,” Jimin assures across the dinner table and then pouts playfully. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”   “Psh. I know that. Just don’t miss me too much when you’re on set all day.”   “Impossible. I’ll always miss you.”   “Laying on the grease tonight, aren’t you, Park? What do you want from me this time? A compliment? A kiss?”   “Just your company,” Jimin smiles, looking away from his plate for a moment to flicker his eyes up to you. A shy smile appears on his features. “And I already have it.”   God. You wonder if he knows how much you love him.

The alarm clock wakes you.   It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of your phone. With one eye open, you grab it off your nightstand to turn it off.    You hear grumbling beside you, covers twisting and turning. You begrudgingly rise, peeling off the sheet to get ready for the day. But Jimin sighs beside you. He opens one eye and realizes the sun hasn’t even come up yet.    “Why so early?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky at the back.   “I’m going out of the city for a team building trip with the crew, remember?” You smile at him, rubbing your own eyes before your fingers brush back his bangs. He leans into your tender touch.   Jimin makes a noncommittal noise, remembering. “What time are you back?” he asks in an awfully gentle voice, almost near a sad whimper.   “Probably by six tonight. What time are you leaving?”   “Five,” he sighs and wraps the covers around his shoulders tighter when a gap lets in cold air. “It’s a late night filming. I’ll be back at two a.m. probably.”   “Aw, poor baby,” you laugh quietly and much to Jimin’s dismay, you get up and leave the other side of his bed cold. “Go back to sleep, ‘kay?”   It’s easy to forget that you and Jimin are supposed to be neighbors.   Often times, you sleep over at each other’s homes and run back into your apartment if you ever need something that the other person doesn’t have. It’s just too easy to sleep in one another’s beds — there aren’t any excuses when it’s right here and convenient at that. It’s the devil’s temptation. You can’t resist.   And on nights when you return without Jimin there, you love to crawl into his cozy bed and surround yourself in sheets lingering with his scent. Other times, you wake up in your own bed at dawn to find Jimin there, with his arm draped across your waist, body curling into your covers.   That night, your thoughts are interrupted when the door creaks. “Hey there, care bear.”   Jimin smiles softly when he sees you. He closes the distance to encircle his arms around your body, sighing into your shoulder. “What are you doing still up?”   “I thought I’d wait up to see you.”    You missed him a lot, and it’s nice to be surrounded by his stronger scent and not the one lingering in inanimate objects. You also savour the warmth of his body that you don’t have to find in the dark for a few fleeting moments right when you wake up.   “Won’t you be tired?”   “Don’t worry, I took a nap earlier.” You part from him. “Are you hungry? I cooked your favourite.”   But Jimin shakes his head. “I ate with a few of the actors earlier. I’ll save it for breakfast. But right now...there’s something more important.”   He runs his thumb over your cheek, gently caressing you.   You give a teasing grin. “What is it, Park?”   “You know what it is,” he murmurs with half-lidded eyes, serious and giving no room to joke around. Jimin closes the distance between the two of you with a kiss. He deepens it without a second to waste, desperate after weeks without you.    Your whimper is muffled between his lips and the pair of you stumbling back into your bedroom. He holds your waist in his grip. It feels good — it always does when Jimin touches you.   You fall back onto the mattress, parting from him to catch your breath.   “I love you,” Jimin whispers with teary eyes as if you’d forget it if he didn’t tell you enough.   “I know.” You brush his hair with your fingertips. “Here, get on your back.”   You straddle his hips and he moans lowly when you swivel your own. You lean down to kiss him, from his lips trailing to his jaw and neck. “Feels nice,” he mutters and you hum, continuing.   After a minute, you lean back to take off your pajama top. You begin to unbutton his dress shirt as well with fingers less than nimble. “I’m surprised you have enough energy for this. Are you sure you don’t want to go for a shower?”   There’s silence.   “Jimin?”   You look up at him again. His expression is relaxed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling at an even pace…….   He’s fallen asleep.   You sigh, wondering just how exhausted he was. You climb off of him and lift the blankets to tuck right underneath his chin, planting a kiss to the top of his head and wishing him sweet dreams.   When Jimin wakes up hours later right before the sunrise, it’s to the sound of your alarm clock.    Through the slits of his eyes, he watches as you leave to get ready in the bathroom.    And when you’re finished, you’re surprised to find him up and about. “What are you doing? You don’t wake up for at least another five hours.”   Jimin sleepily nods, hair flopping as he does so. There are strands sticking up in a bunch of places, the features of his face swollen, and it’s absolutely endearing. “I’m sorry. ‘Bout last night.”   “Don’t be silly, it’s okay.”   “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”   “You were tired.” You glance at the clock, realizing that you’re running late.   Jimin follows you to the kitchen where you grab your coffee. He hugs his own body, wondering why it’s so cold in your apartment. “I have my day off tomorrow….do you?” he asks with a thick voice, scratching his head.   “No. I have my day off on Sunday.”   “What about next Tuesday?”   You shake your head. Jimin watches you put on your shoes.    “I don’t get off till seven.”   The sleepy man exhales in defeat. You smile tenderly, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips. “We’ll figure something out. I have to go now, okay? Go back to bed and get some more rest.”   He nods and then the door closes with you on the other side. He staggers back onto your mattress.   A new routine implements itself into your lives — Jimin’s off days spent alone and sleeping while your days off are spent practicing lines and waiting for him to come home. You kiss each other before running out the door, exhausted in the tens of minutes that you run into each other, always occupying the same space, but never quite there.   You open the fridge to see what he’s cooked and eaten — he finds the bed sheets and covers pulled to know where you’ve laid down — you look at the dishwasher to know what plates he’s used.   He knows you’re here, and you know he’s here. But your schedules never quite match.   And Jimin refuses to accept it.   March 4, 11:50pm. Jimin : you’re free on thursday next week right? March 4, 11:52pm. Jimin : Lets go on a date   March 5, 7:23am. Y/N : yeah its my day off  March 5, 7:24am. Y/N : where do you wanna go   March 5, 12:04pm. Jimin : I’m gonna ask them to go home early March 5, 12:04pm. Jimin : I think I’ll be off by 8  March 5, 12:10pm. Jimin : We can do whatever you want   March 5, 6:02pm. Y/N : are you sure thats ok??? March 5, 6:02pm. Y/N : ?????????????????????????   March 6, 1:43am. Jimin : Yeah March 6, 1:43am. Jimin : dw it’s important to me   March 6, 6:14am. Y/N : k March 6, 6:14am. Y/N : let’s go out to dinner then??   March 6, 1:00pm. Jimin : Sounds good March 6, 1:04pm. Jimin : I’m taking you to the best restaurant March 6, 1:04pm. Jimin : Dress nicely ok?   March 6, 6:58pm. Y/N : I’m excited! :)

Thursday finally rolls around after days of anticipation.   With your day off, you’re able to sleep in and get some much needed rest. In your half-asleep daze, you also felt Jimin kiss the top of your forehead before he left to work in the afternoon for another day of filming. It made you warm, excited, feeling promised for a wonderful night.   Someone else is as eager as you are too.   “God, if you don’t wear something at least a little sexy, then what’s the point?”   Yeonjeon’s squawking hysterically over the phone and you reluctantly throw your summer dress onto the bed. “Are you trying to look like a nun or do you actually want to get fucked tonight?”   You point your phone camera towards the closet. “Which one then?”   The female squints, obviously judging your meager collection. “What’s that one at the back? Your wardrobe is so lacking. It’s sad. We should go shopping some time. I’ll show you how it needs to be done. Stop. That black one.”   “This?” You pull the dress out — it’s one of the ones you never got to wear.    “Yes. You’re going to look so hot when I’m done, maybe you two’ll fuck and get pregnant — oh my god, I’m practically bringing new life into this world, I’m fucking amazing.”   You burst out laughing. “I think that’ll be a nightmare, Yeonjeon. We haven’t even talked about kids.”   “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Jimin’s head is so far up your ass, I’m pretty sure kids wouldn’t be an issue for him.” She suddenly gasps, startling you. “What if Park proposes tonight?”   “He’s not!” You giggle and turn the camera onto yourself. “We haven’t even talked about marriage yet and we’re both working right now.”   “You never know.” Yeonjeon wiggles her brows, voice full of implication.   You hesitate. “Are you sure this dress is alright?” You hold the dress up against your body, looking down. It’s shorter than you thought, ending almost mid-thigh. “It’s gonna be small…”   “It’ll be fine!” she insists and is triggered for another rant. “Why do you need me to tell you this? Shouldn’t it be obvious? There’s nothing wrong with being a bit slutty for a fancy night out. It’s liberating. God, Jimin should thank me for helping you. You’re hopeless.”   “Hey,” you whine, “I’m not hopeless.”   Yeonjeon ignores your pout. “You better do up your hair and do your makeup. Like I mean really do it. Don’t make me come over there and do it myself, bitch.”   You laugh and get changed into it. The dress hugs your curves, a bit hard to breathe in, but as you spin around in the mirror, you find yourself not looking too bad. “Damn. If Jimin doesn’t like it, I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone tonight who does,” Yeonjeon comments, boosting your ego and making you giggle.   “Did he say where he was taking you tonight?”   “No, it’s a surprise apparently.”   “Ugh, I hate romance. You guys are too sappy.” She rolls her eyes despite smiling. “You better send me a picture when you’re done.”   It’s hard not to show your excitement — it's been a long time since you’ve had a date night and truth be told, you miss Jimin.   It doesn’t need to be extravagant. You just want to sit down with him and share a meal, to have at least one full conversation without anyone being too drained to talk. And you can’t wait for it. You’re constantly looking at the clock, counting down the hours until you can see your boyfriend again and spend some time with him.   In the meanwhile, you shower from head to toe, shave your legs, pluck your brows, go through facials and scrubs — the whole nine yards that Yeonjeon would approve of.   It takes around two hours for you to perfect your makeup and do up your hair. Even Yeonjeon sends a message of approval via text once you send a picture. For once, you truly feel confident in your own skin. It’s been a while since you’ve taken care of yourself too and you’re eager to see Jimin’s reaction.   You’re ready by seven. You take your place on the couch, turning on the television for some background noise as you wait. There’s just an hour left.   When eight comes and Jimin’s not home yet, you figure he’s running late. So you muster your patience.   At nine pm, you begin to get concerned. You wonder if he got into an accident of some sort, and you pace around, giving him calls only to hear the dial tone when he doesn’t pick up.    Yeonjeon messages you to ask if the date’s hot so far — you don’t have the heart to answer her.   At nine thirty, you become so antsy that you shoot him several texts.   March 12, 9:32pm. Y/N : hey are you ok?? March 12, 9:34pm. Y/N : what time are you coming home tonight?   At ten at night, the message lights up and shows that he’s seen it. But he doesn’t respond.   He must be busy — caught up in his work, held back against his own will. You’re just glad that he’s at least okay and that he hasn’t gotten hurt.   At eleven, you fiddle with your dress and slip off your heels. If you’re both going to the restaurant you think he’s going to bring you to, there’s still an hour left. You can technically make it.   But by twelve o’clock, your hair is in disarray, your makeup has been smudged off, and you’re slumped over on the couch, having fallen asleep to a boring movie playing on a random channel.    It’s not until you’re stirred awake at one in the morning by the creak of the door.   “Y/N?”   You sit up, rubbing your eyes, and unknowingly smudging your eyeliner and mascara even further. It ruins your eye shadow and blush. “Jimin?”   “What are you doing still up?” He smiles and his eyes run up and down the expanse of your body. “And why are you so pretty tonight?”   Jimin doesn’t know. He doesn’t realize.   As silence passes and you stand on your feet, mind too slow to come up with an excuse, he connects the dots. Jimin visibly pales. His eyes grow wide. “Fuck...that was tonight, wasn’t it?”   He paces, hand on his forehead, visibly distressed.   It hurts, but your mouth lifts into a stiff smile despite your lips obviously trembling. You hide your watery eyes. “It’s okay.”   “I can’t believe I fucking forgot.” Jimin drops down onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands gathering his hair. “The guys invited me out to go out for drinks, I, god, I, I could’ve left. I’m such a fucking dumbass.”   “Hey, it’s okay.”   “It’s not.” Jimin’s head lifts, his own eyes glossy and full of remorse and shame. “You look so pretty and I...I fucked it up. This was the only night we had open together. We were supposed to do so many things. Jesus, how long did you wait for?”   “Not that long.” You sheepishly shrug. “Promise. I kind of forgot too….this…” You motion to yourself. “...was a last minute thing.”   You sit beside him. Jimin can’t even look at you anymore.   Guilt wells up in his eyes. It collects at his throat, clogging his words from coming out.    “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry.”   You wrap your arms around him, just for a moment. At best, the two of you have twenty minutes together tonight, so you try your best to savour it.    “It’s okay,” you say into his shoulder.   “You deserve better than me.”   “Don’t say that,” you sigh. “I love you.”   He sniffles. “I’m sorry.”   “I know.”   “You look beautiful tonight.”   You smile. “Thanks.”   Jimin joins you in the shower. You peel yourself from the dress you never got to go out in and watch the makeup wash down the drain — all your hard work disappearing underneath the water.   But Jimin is arguably sadder than you are. You hold each other in the shower until it’s time to get out and you dry one another off before climbing into bed to drift off to sleep and prepare for the next day of work.   You love him, but you wonder why sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.   //   Jimin thinks he’ll remember this forever. It even seeps into his dreams — the feeling of despair and regret, the guilt that makes him stir uncomfortably, your sad expression that tries to smile at him.   He’s had plenty of fuck ups in his life. It’s safe to say not many of those fuck ups have been with you, but this time around, he knows he’s messed up big time. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to make it up to you — time seems to be the greatest enemy. That and his own memory.   But that doesn’t mean he’ll give up. He’ll try his goddamn hardest.   Jimin starts by ordering the biggest bouquet of flowers he can find in the city. It certainly hurts his little wallet — he didn’t know extravagant bouquets could be so pricey, but it’s worth it when he can imagine your surprised expression. He just wishes he could be around to see it.   Unfortunately for him…   The doorbell rings.    “Flower delivery for Y/N?” the delivery man offers a chipper voice.   The timing is poor. You just left ten minutes ago.    Jimin tiredly scratches the back of his neck. He reluctantly takes the basket, unsure of what to do. “I, uh, asked for the delivery to be in the evening.”   “We don’t deliver in the evening,” the delivery man states coldly.   Jimin sighs, signs the paper that he’s received it and leaves it on his kitchen counter for you.   It’s even more unfortunate for Jimin that you end up returning to your apartment that night, so you never get to see it. And when you do two days later, you assume it’s something he received from work.    You don’t get the chance to read his heartfelt apology card dug deep into the fresh flowers.   //   The both of you miss each other.   You miss talking, merely being in each other’s presence, being together, and it seems like you miss each other by seconds these days too. The timing is always poor.    When you do see one another, one person’s always falling asleep, or it’s only for two or three minutes before one of you has to leave the house.   You press your phone to your ear, listening to the voicemail that was left hours ago. “Hey.”   Jimin’s quiet, voice husky around the edges. “I called but you didn’t pick up. You’re probably asleep, huh? I just…” You hear him inhale a breath. “ ...wanted to say hi. I’m sorry, by the way, for the other day. I know you said it’s not my fault, but I still messed up. I’ll make it up to you, promise. We’ll find some time to go out like we were supposed to. Anyways—….oh, I gotta go now. Yeah.”    There’s a pause as if he’s not sure what he should say next. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Jimin sounds sad over the phone. “I love you.”   You put the phone down, turning beside you to where Jimin is sound asleep in bed, unaware of the world. “I love you too.”   But deep down, you know that despite neither of you wanting to admit it, it’s a fact that you’re at different points in your lives.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 90

Warnings: none 

Tagging @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​, @alievans007​

“I have a serious bone to pick with you,” Riley scolds, thousands of miles away in her dorm room at Colorado State. Clad in a black and green plaid hunting jacket that’s miles too big on her petite frame, vibrant red hair tucked up into a ‘trucker style’ ball cap. “Why did I have to find out about this from Douchey McDouche Face?”

Despite there being a near fourteen year age difference between them and no blood ties whatsoever, their relationship has always been strong; even with the familial drama and the miles that have continuously kept them separated. Esme can vividly remember meeting her for the first time; a then three year old gazing up at her -all of seventeen- with pure adoration and idolization. That cute little ginger with her massive green eyes and her already fiery personality; drawn to Esme and her then tomboyish style and her penchant -despite her own small stature- for full contact sports.  She can even recall how good it had felt; having someone that DID look at her that way.

For years she'd been practically invisible; the last child between her mother and father, treated as if there’d been simply no love left to bestow on her after piling it on five boys. Her father had been her only source of real affection; the only person who’d ever showed pride in her achievements and never dragged her down for her choices or belittled her passions and interests. When he died, everything went to shit. While her mother’s   toxicity increased and she kicked the emotional abuse up several notches, her brothers had all tried -in their obnoxious and overbearing ways- to step up and take their father’s place in her life. They’d all failed, causing her to become uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn; prone to cutting when the depressions and feelings of inadequacy hit especially hard and her mother no longer hide her rapidly growing hatred for her only daughter. Life had been pretty dark; many moments where she thought the world would be a better place without her in it and she’d actually been in possession of handfuls of pills and had the desire -and the chance- to end the suffering.

Then ‘The Sarge’ had come along. Filling that fatherly role without expecting or demanding it; letting her call the shots and make the moves when it came to accepting him into her life. And he’d ‘shown up’ in ways her mother and brothers never bothered; quietly and lovingly, showing interest in her life and valuing her opinions and thoughts and getting involved in the things she enjoyed. She was no longer the only one on the wrestling squad or the lacrosse team or at swim meets without someone there to support her. Sarge would always be there; sitting in the front row, enthusiastically cheering her on and nudging other parents with his elbow while proudly declaring “that’s MY girl!”.

And just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get better, they did.  Sarge was granted full custody of his only child; her mother choosing her career over that adorable redhead. Despite their age difference, she and Riley had become inseparable. Happily and willingly taking the little girl to the movies or the mall; listening to preschool gossip while out for dinner at McDonalds, letting the little girl climb into bed with her during thunderstorms or after a bad dream. Over the years they’d both been branded as  the ‘black sheep’; ostracized  for their ‘lifestyle choices’ and how ‘wayward and lost’ they’d managed to become.

Nothing brings two people together like shared alienation and pure hatred and spite for their ‘enemies’.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Esme attempts to reason, as she conducts the video chat in one of the ICU’s private family meeting rooms.  “I know finals are coming up. And you’ve been busy with placement. I didn’t want to add THIS to your plate.”

She’d left Tyler in extremely compassionate hands: a quiet and gentle Andy, who’d been standing over his sleeping friend and in the midst of a traditional Aboriginal blessing and prayer for healing.  She’d had to leave;  the purity and the beauty of both Andy’s heart and the moment too profound for her already fragile emotions to handle.  Instead she spends the time with both her sister and Addie; the infant cuddled close to her chest, a receiving blanket emblazoned with images of Baby Dumbo covering her as she nurses.  She had terribly missed even the simplicity and familiarity of such a common occurrence; the light weight of her daughter’s tiny body against hers, those tiny hands that gently  knead at her breast or grab at her necklace and reach for her hair.

“THIS is my brother in law,”  Riley says. “You know how much I love the guy. How much he’s the cat’s ass and I totally approve of how he treats you like a queen.”

“You’re one of the few people in my life who do. Love him.”

“Well NOT everyone can have exceptional taste.   They’re just bitter and jealous. You got out of that shit hole and away from their crap.   They’re all still stuck in and thriving on it; too chicken shit to ever think on their own, in fear of pissing off Mommy Dearest. Tyler’s the best thing that came along to that family in...well...forever.  They’re just pissed they can’t control him; that he gives zero fucks about any of them and doesn't shy away from letting them know.”

“Mommy Dearest still insists he’s the WORST thing to ever happen. That I’ve somehow been forced into this life and he’s somehow brainwashed me and has some strong and powerful hold over me that keeps me around.”

Riley gives a derisive snort.

“I mean even in her condition, she still managed to send me an email asking me when I was going to get my shit together and realize ‘that man’ is nothing but poison and bad news.  She didn’t even remember the twins’ birthdays or Millie’s. Or she did and just didn’t give a shit. She’s always treated those kids differently from the rest. All because she has this stupid, imaginary axe to grind against Tyler.”

“Fuck her,” Riley snarls. “You’re way too good for her. For that whole damn family. You always have been. And he is DEFINITELY way too good for them. Probably why none of your brothers like him; he makes them feel inferior and most definitely puts their masculinity into doubt. They’re probably pissed off their wives think of him when they’re flicking the bean.”

Esme frowns. “Riley!”

“Please tell me you’re still not bringing your bullshit; the whole insecurity crap. Who cares if other women lust after your husband? Or if they get themselves off thinking about him? Who is the one HE is getting off in person?  Who gets to have THAT going down on her whenever she damn well wants? Cut your shit; he only has eyes for you.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.”

“He knows how to say no. I’m sure he has, many times.  No one else exists in his eyes. There’s not one woman in this world that would make that man unfaithful. So stop. Let other women...and probably more than a handful of men...fantasize about him. You get the real thing. I mean, he is so hot, he almost turned ME straight. Almost.”

Esme laughs at that.

“And that last picture you sent? The family one you guys did before Christmas? Whoa! Dude is looking thick and buff as fuck! What are you feeding him?”

“His favourite meal. Remember what he told you THAT was?”

“I sure as shit do! It’s the same as mine. Atta boy. The man from down under likes to spend a lot of time down under. That’s the spirit! And speaking of my favorite Aussie, what the fuck Tyler? What kind of god awful shitty mess did you get yourself caught up in?”

“Godawful shitty mess does not even begin to accurately describe what happened, believe me.”

“I called your place because I wanted to come down and visit for a couple of weeks next month. Finally see Australia! Bring the new girl for you all the meet. Cuddle my nieces and nephews and spoil the shit out of them with presents and candy.  And what do I find out? What does Fire Chief Dick for Brains tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Ry. I should have called you. I just didn’t want to burden you. I know you have a lot going on with school and placement and your social life and…”

“Fuck all of that. None of that matters. You’re my sister. That’s my brother in law. The father of my nieces and nephews. You’re my family.  All that matters to me is you guys.”

“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just a huge mess and my brain is not functioning at a hundred percent right now. All I’ve been concentrating on is him.  He’s my number one priority right now; helping him heal and getting him out of here and sent to a hospital back home. I didn’t purposefully leave you out.”

“Do you need me to come? Just say the word MeMe. I’ll get on the next flight.”

Esme smiles at the nickname; a little something a then four year old Riley had come up with because she couldn’t properly pronounce her new step sister’s name.  “I missed that,” she says. “Hearing you call me that.”

“You’ll always be MeMe to me. Do you need me there? Do you WANT me there? Because I will put everything aside and get to you. You know I will.”

“As much I’d love to see you and have you here, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to concentrate on school and your placement and your new love.  And Tyler would want all that, too. He would not expect you to drop everything for him. He’d give you shit for it, you know he would.”

“He is such a stubborn fuck, I swear. Love the guy, but he does my head in. And this isn’t about expecting it from me; it’s about me wanting to be there for you. I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you.”

“Ry, I love you and appreciate you so much. And I miss you. Terribly. But this isn’t the place for you. You need to stay where you are and concentrate on school and just get on with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that when Tyler is messed up like his? How am I supposed to concentrate on things when you’re going through this?”

“Because that’s what we BOTH want you to do. There is no reason for you to put your life on hold to come here. Everything is so up in the air right now.  There’s no timetable for his recovery; we have no idea how long it’s going to be until he can be sent home. And even then he’s going to be admitted to a hospital there.  It’ll be awhile until he’s home, home.”

“This is just such bullshit,” Riley sighs heavily. “I am so sorry. MeMe. That you’re going through this. I know how much you love him. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like; seeing him so torn up. It was bad, wasn’t it. What was done to him?”

“It was pretty damn bad.  He was in really rough shape when he was brought in.”

“How rough?”

“The roughest. Worse than seven years ago. Way worse. He told me that he didn’t want to die, but he was expecting it.”

“Jesus…” Riley breathes. “...for a guy like Tyler to come right out and admit that…”

“It was horrible; seeing him like that. I will never forget that as long as I live. I thought what I saw on the bridge...had to do on the bridge...was awful. But seeing him? After the surgeries and all the wounds so new and fresh?  I can’t even begin to describe it. How it made me feel.”

“I am so sorry,  I am so goddamn sorry.”

“I mean, that’s the love of my life. The father of my kids. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And to see him like that…like this…”  she takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it slowly.  “...it hurts. So much. That’s my whole heart, Riley. HE’S my whole heart.”

“I’m going to come there. To Dhaka. I don’t want you going through this alone. I don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Esme assures her. “I really am. I’m not alone either; a lot of friends are here to help out and watch over me. And now I’ve got this little muffin…” she lifts the edge of the blanket and glances down at Addie; those huge brown eyes staring up at her, then crinkling when the infant smiles.   “...it’s better now that she’s here. Or at least that one of them is here.”

“Do you want me to go to Australia? I can stay at your place, help with the kids. As much as I hate Fire Chief Dick for Brains, I’ll put up with him. Just for you.”

“The kids are fine, I promise. I just miss them. A lot. Once he’s transferred home, it’ll be a whole new ballgame.”

“Any remote idea on what that’s going to be?”

“Two weeks. Three at the most.”

“Shit…”  Riley shakes her head. “...oh Tyler, what the hell bruh…”

“It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. There could have been five kids with no daddy.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. How is he now? How is he doing?”

“He’s being weaned off of sedation. He has wakeful moments; periods where he’s pretty lucid.  His memory is shit; he asks the same questions at least six times an hour. That’s just the meds though. They said once the sedation is totally out of him, his brain will go back to normal.”

“Whatever normal is for Tyler,” Riley chides.  

“He’s able to stay up for quite a while. He can carry on a conversation, but he gets confused really easily. And then he gets frustrated and embarrassed and he starts shutting down.  And his emotions are all over the place; joking and somewhat happy one minute,  a weepy mess the next.”

“How’s the PTSD been?”

“Now that he’s more coherent? It’s been a mess. When he wakes up he’s very disoriented and if he’s alone or there’s people in the room he doesn’t know…”

“Freaks out?”

“He loses it. His fight or flight kicks in. And you know Tyler…”

“Always picks fight.”

Esme nods.  “And he doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying when he’s like that and he’s freaking out because he thinks I’m dead and no one can convince him otherwise. A PSW came in; while I was out. Woke him. To wash his hair and trim his beard.”

“Oh no…”

“He fucking lost it, Ry.  Which I knew would happen and is why I told them NOT to send someone in.  He just went off. It took four people to hold him down, and that was AFTER they gave him sedation. You would have thought nothing was wrong with him; that’s how hard he fought.  This is a man who can’t even walk right now. And he still scared the shit out of the PSW. Threatened to break his neck with his bare hands and told him how he’s done it before. Many times. Then told him he’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“So what’s the difference in him after all this? That sounds like Tyler on a good day.”

Esme can’t help but laugh.  “I think he made the PSW piss his pants.”

“Serves him right if he can’t follow instructions. Is it in his chart? That no one is supposed to come in?”

Esme nods.

“Well fuck him then.  Read the patient’s chart. It’s not that hard. Is it wrong that I’d give my right arm to see him rip someone’s head off and shove it up their ass? I bet he could do it too. I bet he’s done shit that defies logic.”

“Well he did once kill two people with a garden rake.”

“How fitting. A Rake, using a rake.  Perfection.  What’s his injuries like? Kyle says they’re pretty gnarly.”

“Why do you sound so pleased at the thought?”

“I’m in nursing school. This shit excites me. I can’t help it.”

“Gunshot wound to the back, lots of stitches, a torn MCL and ACL, open fracture of the right femur…”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“Of what?”

“His femur.”

“Hell no, I don’t. Why would I want pictures of that?”

“Because that would be fucking amazing to see. Was it a true open fracture? Bone protruding and everything?”

“I guess. His friend said the bone was showing.”

“That is wild. I would have loved pictures; before AND after.”

Esme grimaces. “You’re disturbed.”

“Did they give him an ilizarov?”

“They said it would be on for a least three months. He is NOT happy.”

“Can you take pictures of that? And the gunshot wound?”

“Riley…”

“For scientific reasons, I swear. I just want to see them. I could even show my one prof and Tyler could be a case study.”

“I’d rather my husband NOT be one, thank you. He’s not your show and tell project.”

“Just go and take a couple pictures. Please? Pretty please? With  whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top?”

“He’s sleeping. I am not going in there and waking him up because you're a freak.”

“Best time to do it; when he’s sleeping.”

“I would never do that to him. There’s this thing called consent. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it…”

“When he wakes up, ask him if you can take pictures. If you tell them they’re for Red, he’ll be good with it. I know he will. He loves me.”

“He does, actually.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll come down; once he’s in a hospital there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“I talked to Mildred by the way…”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Millie is NOT short for Mildred.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Her name is not Mildred, though.”

“She LOVES when I call her that. Loves it.  Anyway, how grown up is she sounding all of a sudden? It’s like she’s six going on sixteen! What is up with that kid?”

“She’s her father. What more do I have to say?”

“She even sounds like him! The way she says certain words and little sayings she has. I couldn’t believe it; it was like talking to a mini, girl version of him.  Freaky!  She’s pretty pissed, huh? At you?”

Esme sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I told her to smarten up. That she’s got a great mom and she needs to appreciate it AND you. I told her to get her shit together and respect you. That if her dad finds out what she’s up to, it won’t be pretty. I said that he’ll stick up for her mom no matter WHO is disrespecting her. I think that scared her.”

“There’s nothing she hates more than the thought of her daddy being mad at her. That’s her WORST fear, I swear.”

“Well she needs to cut the attitude. I don’t tolerate that shit. I don’t think I’m the favorite Aunt anymore, by the way.”

“You’re her only Aunt.”

“I guess I’m excommunicated then.  And speaking of being an aunt, let me see my little poop face.”

Esme removes the blanket covering Addie, then holds her onto the arms and places her in line with the camera.

“Oh my God…” Riley gives an excited squeal.  “...look at Auntie Ry Ry’s little poop face! You’re getting so big!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Esme laughs. “She just got into the newborn clothes. She’ll be four months.”

“She’s still grown a lot since the last time I saw her. Look at you, Addie! Look how beautiful you are. Look at how much you look like your mommy! You’re the lucky one, huh? Getting your momma’s looks? She’s smiling, MeMe. That smile is everything! She has Tyler’s smile.”

“It’s the one thing they all inherited. And she also got his appetite. I really need to get back to feeding her and I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to see while trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I’ve had to look at worse things. You’ve got really nice boobs, actually. Tell him I said he’s lucky.”

“You’re too much. But I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“As soon as you guys get home, I’ll be on my way,” Riley promises. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Right away, hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Chin up, okay? He’s got this. He’s a tough shit. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he will,” Esme says confidently, then blows her step sister a kiss in farewell before killing the video feed.

****

She pokes her head into the room when she returns, smiling when she finds him awake and sitting up in bed; the angle of the mattress slowly increasing with each hour, giving his back used to being in different positions and not allowing the muscles to settle and stiffen.

“Hey,” she greets. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you. Just taking me forever; hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m here, you might as well just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m gonna send it anyway…” a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “...I’m almost done. Be patient.”

“That’s more your thing; being patient.”

“You’ve been plenty patient the last couple of days. There...all done...sent.”

Her phone vibrates within the pocket of her hoodie, and she pulls it out to check the message; smiling at the simple -yet honest and heartfelt- words. “You’re cute,” she gushes. “I’m going to send you one back.”     She steps out into the hall; composing her own text. Just a short and sweet: I love you too.   Accompanied by a selfie of her puckering her lips for a kiss. “Well…” she pokes her head back into the room.  “...did you get it?”

“Yep.”  A broad smile spreads across his face. “Want me to send something back? A dick pic?”

“Not when there’s a tube in it, I don’t. I do have a separate file for them though; where I put all the dick pics you send me when you’re away from home.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You’re the one who sends them! Where’s Andy?”

“He went downstairs to get something to eat. I told him I’d be fine by myself.”

“Pretty awesome, huh? That he can all this way to see you?”

“Yeah, it is.  He’s a good guy; I’m glad I sucked it up and talked to him that day at the school. Why are you poking your head in like that? Why don’t you just come in?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you naked?”

“You wish.”

“Is it a blowjob?”

Esme frowns. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot. I probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Not with a tube sticking out of it and all the meds I’m on. What’s the surprise? Want me to close my eyes? Will it make it better?”

“This is going to be an awesome surprise no matter what. But go ahead.”

“You ARE naked, aren’t you. Baby, as much I appreciate your willingness and your effort to make me feel better at all costs, that part of me is not gonna work right now.”

“I am definitely NOT naked. It’s going to be a while before you get to see me with no clothes on. You are nowhere close to being ready for that.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“That’s one thing I never do, trust me. You want the surprise or not? I promise you, this is an amazing one.”

“Even better than when the kids make me breakfast in bed and cupcakes for my birthday?”

“Even better,” she says, and then waits for him to close his eyes; carrying Addie into the room. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.  I brought you a little visitor.”

“One of those hospital therapy dogs? Like a corgi or some shit?”

“Way better and way cuter.”

“I don’t know, wife. Those are pretty damn cute.”

“Trust me, this is much better and will cheer you up a hundred times more than any dog ever could.”  She stands on the right side of the bed; easier to transfer Addie onto his good arm.  And she removes the receiving blanket draped over her daughter as she leans over the railing; a smile already curving the baby’s lips and her tiny hands reaching for her father.  “No sudden movements, alright? You don’t want to accidentally hurt the surprise. Open your eyes.”

He does as he’s told. A brief moment of confusion etched on his face as he looks down at the baby in his wife’s arms, then up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Andy brought her.  She’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing her. Look at her; she’s already smiling at you. She’s so happy to see you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy.  Wait until you see her little outfit.”

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. That Ovi was bringing her.”  His eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep??”

“There was a change of plans; a little something Andy and Ovi came up with together. Here…”  she gently lays Addie along his left forearm; settling the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “...look at her little shirt? Isn’t it perfect? Daddy’s little peanut. Andy made it for her.”

“It is perfect. SHE’S perfect.”

“Look at her looking at you...look at that smile..all she sees is her daddy. Not what happened to him. Feels good, right? To have her here? To have her in your arms like this?”

“Yeah…” emotion chokes at him, and he leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead, lightly chuckling when those tiny hands grab at his hair and his nose. “...feels amazing, actually.”

Esme leans into him, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. She definitely missed you.”

“I missed her,” he says, and kisses the tip of Addie’s nose. “Daddy missed you so much, baby girl. So much.”   The tears come now; a mixture of relief and happiness combined with the anger and frustration at being laid up and unable to perform even the simplest tasks for himself.

“Hey…” Esme places a kiss to his temple and rubs and squeezes his shoulder. “...it’s okay.  All uphill from here, remember? You’re doing amazing; don’t doubt that. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I didn’t think I’d get this chance again; to see her, hold her. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t.”

“Well you’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake. If there’s anyone on this earth that can survive THAT and do this well, it’s you. I know how much you love proving people wrong. And you’re doing that. I also know how much you want to get out of Dhaka. I know that’s your main driving force for trying as hard as you are.”

“I just want to go home.  Even if it is to a hospital there. I just want to be home.”

“Soon,” she promises. “And if you keep doing as well as you are, it will be even sooner than any of us thought. I don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? I know sometimes you try to do to much, too soon. And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you busting your ass to the point it sets you back.  I know you don’t want that either.”

“I just want to feel my legs. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t. It freaks me out. I wake up and I forget it’s only temporary and I fucking lose it. You know that’s one of the worst things possible in my eyes; not being able to do things, not being able to have the life I had.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that. In a couple days, you’ll get the feeling back. This too shall pass.  It won’t be a while until you’re back to being the old you, but you WILL get there. I promise.  And you can’t tell me this won’t help. Having Addie here. That it won’t lift your spirits a bit.”

“She already has. She’s lifted them a lot, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again. See you, see her.”

“Well, you DID get to do it. We’re here. We’re BOTH here.”  She moves her hand to the nape of his neck, massaging gently.  “Are you okay with her? She seems pretty happy where she is; I don’t think she’s going to want you to put her down anytime soon.”

“I’m good.  I’m not giving her up.  They’d have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands. She’s getting bigger, huh?”

“I thought the same thing when I first saw her. Feels like we’ve been away from her for a lot longer than we have. She’s still super tiny though.”

“She is. Just a wee little thing. Like her momma,” he presses another kiss to Addie’s brow. “Beautiful like your momma too.”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, daddy is extremely  biased when it comes to mommy,” Esme addresses the infant.  “He always has been.”

“It’s not being biased when it’s the truth. It still feels weird; how light she is. Even Tanner with all his issues was never this small. She’s definitely all you. Now I’ll have two people small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and pecks his cheek. “You sure have your cute moments.”

“You seem to bring that side of me out.”

“Well it’s a very nice side.  But I like all your sides, so…”

Smiling, he tips his head up towards her, and she leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know you didn’t agree with it,” she says, when he turns his attention back to Addie. “Her coming here.”

She notices the wince that briefly takes hold of his face; the simple action of using his right hand to tug the baby’s socks back up causing pain in the injured shoulder.

“I was just worried. About her being here if things went to shit again. I know we think they’re all gone; Asif’s people.  But I didn’t want to take that chance. Especially with her.”

“There hasn’t been any movement. Not even a whisper of trouble.  And you know Anil; he’s got all kinds of ears to the ground. I think it’s really over this time. I think we’re finally going to be able to put this place behind us. It’s time; to leave Dhaka behind.”

“I definitely don’t plan on coming back for a visit, that’s for sure. So if you have Dhaka on that ‘places like you’d like to vacation’ list, you can go ahead and erase it right now.”

“I have had enough of Dhaka to last me a lifetime, believe me. You know, you have this real habit of choosing extremely dramatic and painful ways to get out of taking me anywhere.”

Tyler grins. “Neither of the times I bailed on you were intentional, I swear.”

“I think we should stop planning ahead when it comes to going away. It’s like we jinx it somehow; talking about it too soon.  How about next time, we just decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere? That way we shock the universe with our spontaneity and it doesn’t have time to recover until we’re BACK from our trip.”

“Sounds good to me. And we’re going to need one; a trip. When all this is over. I know it’s going to be a while, but we are definitely going to need a vacation.”

“Well tell your pocketbook to expect Bora Bora or The Maldives. I’m getting my suite on the water.”

“I will get you whatever you want, baby. Whatever your little heart desires.  You just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I’ll get it for you.”

“You healthy and back on your feet.  That’s all I want.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” she kisses his temple. “And you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. So fucking proud of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry. Again.”

“I can’t help that you’re so beautiful when you cry. And it would be happy tears, right?”

“Very happy tears.” He lays his palm on Addie’s stomach, all of her fingers wrapping around one of his. “She’s tiny, but she’s strong. Has a hell of a grip.”

“She’s like her daddy. Tough as nails.”

“I don’t know,” he smiles up at her. “I think her momma has me beat in the toughness department.”

“I think…” she places a kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. “...you totally underestimate yourself. He does, doesn’t he, Addie? Underestimate himself. Tell daddy he’s tough as hell and the strongest, bravest person you know. Tell him how the sun shines out of his ass and he poops glitter and pisses rainbows. That’s how you look at him, might as well tell him too. Because his ego isn’t quite big enough, yet.”

He smirks. “My ego took a hell of a beating.”

“Well tell your ego to shut the fuck up,” she affectionately tousles his hair. “There was nothing you could have done, Tyler. You didn’t know this going to happen; that things were going to go this bad. There was nothing to suggest that he who shall not be mentioned was capable of something like that.”

“We both knew he was sketchy as fuck.”

“Being sketchy and being psychotic are two totally different things. You did everything right; you got Neysa and Aarev out, you went back to get him out.  There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do.”

“Should have listened to Koen and left his ass there.”

“Koen said that?”

He nods.

“You remember that? Him saying that?”

“I can remember things that happened BEFORE it all went down.  Things that I said, that other people said. I can remember getting Neysa and Aarev out and going back in to get N...him.  But after that, it’s pretty muddled.”

“But you do remember things?”

“I THINK  I’m remembering them. I THINK  it’s things that happened. I’m not sure though; if they’re real or my brain is just making shit up. I DO remember...vividly...him shooting me in the back. Everything else? I don’t know what’s real and what I’m imagining. And honestly, babe? I don’t think I want to remember.”

“But you might. And that could get pretty scary for you; things coming back to you.”

“I know.”

“Once we’re home, we’ll get you some help okay? Some therapy. For the mental stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I know you hate that side; seeing therapists and talking to strangers and having to take meds. But you know what I hate? Seeing your brain torturing you like it does. I hate that you have to go to war every damn day with your own mind. I just want you to be okay.  You know that, right?”

“I do know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once in the last seven years.”

“Even the toughest need help, sometimes. And I’ll get you that help. I promise. I’ve got you. Always.  You’re my ride or die, remember?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles. “...you’re mine too.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him. “Inside AND out. You’re already on your way.  And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, right beside you, every step of the way.”

“What about after? When I AM better? You still going to stick around? The whole pain meds thing?”

“We talked about that. You know where I stand; about you needing to deal with that. That’s a deal breaker, Tyler. Because I can’t live like that. And I won’t let our kids live like that either. I love you. More than you could possibly ever comprehend. But that? I can’t do THAT.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. Whatever I need to do...whatever YOU need me to do...I’ll do it. No hesitations. Whatever it is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s concentrate on what we’re going through right now. One thing at a time.  I don’t want you to worry about anything else, alright?”

He nods. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you,” she says, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips.   “We’re going to get through this. Our track record for getting through tough shit is at one hundred percent.  I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah…” he closes his eyes as she rests her forehead against his. “...so do I.”

[semblanche]

ask to be added/removed from tag list!

wip — terras town

status — first draft, unknown chapter

summary — in which eve and jekyll have a much anticipated talk on their favorite least favorite cannibal.

—

"You could at least stop telling him what to do all the time. Let him make some calls for himself.”

Eve shakes her head almost bitterly, a few brown strands coming untucked from behind her ears. “Oh, I would like nothing more. But let me ask you something. You said you have siblings back at home. How often do you let them do as they want?”

“That’s different,” Jekyll argues. “They’re little. They don’t know what they want.”

“And you think Egg does?”

"I think we’ll never get to know, because you just admitted to thinking of him as a fucking child.”

“He is,” Eve snaps, and it’s so full of hatred Jekyll can’t help but stare. “He’s worse than a child. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when I’m not around. If I didn’t ask him to run errands or cook meals, I doubt he’d even—”

She steels herself, a short, halting breath puncturing her outburst. Her knuckles wrap, bone white, around the armrest of her chair. “Just trust me,” she says, and there’s that finality in her tone again that Jekyll has come to hate. “Egg doesn’t want independence. And he definitely doesn’t need it.”

Jekyll shakes their head. Light is filtering through Eve’s shutters now, casting a thin streak of white, glasslike, across her face. They watch as she leans back to avoid it. “You don’t know that,” they say lowly. “And I don’t think he’s as stupid as you wanna act like he is.”

Eve sighs. The light dances like a ribbon between them. “I’m not going to tell you about the circumstances that brought Egg to my doorstep,” she says. It sounds slow, measured – like she's still deciding what to say even while saying it. “Firstly, because it’s none of your concern. Secondly, because it’s not my story to tell.”

Jekyll crosses their arms. “Well, that’s a great way of putting it. I definitely don’t want to know any more now.”

Eve ignores them. “But I think there’s something you and I ought to clear up right now, before your assumptions about our relationship get any more out of hand.”

And here she leans in again, bare inches away from Jekyll’s face. Jekyll flinches instinctively, a cat cornered in an alley, and Eve curls her lip in what a more generous person could call a smile.

“Egg was free before he met me. He was independent. He had just been given the opportunity to do anything in the world he felt like, with no one to hold him back. And what did he do? He marched up to my doorstep, and begged me to take him in.”

She pauses, weighing Jekyll’s reaction against the scale of her words. Jekyll forces on the best poker face they can. “Egg isn’t like you or me,” she says. “I wish he was. God, it would make my life easier. But that independence you’re so keen on shoving down his throat? He’s already gotten a taste of it before. And he hated every second.”

“Convenient excuse for pushing him around,” Jekyll says. It falls flat, even in their own ears, but they press on, suddenly desperate for the last word. “At least you've got something to tell yourself if you ever feel bad for making a kid eat corpses for you.”

“If I ever feel bad,” Eve repeats, and Jekyll instantly knows they overstepped. Eve's easy patience is gone, the rubber that wrapped around her words slowly tearing off to reveal seething electric sparks. “For making him.”

They try to backtrack. “That’s not-”

“No,” Eve says. “No, by all means, go on. I wasn't aware you knew my history with Egg better than I did.” She laughs, and it's all wrong, more bark than breath. She hasn't changed her tone, hasn't even raised her voice, but Jekyll can tell that she's furious – and also suddenly remembers that Eve is very, very good with a knife.

They backtrack again. “I guessed,” they try, “just based on what I've seen, that you, maybe had something to do with -?”

This is the wrong thing to say. Eve abruptly stands up, fists clenched so hard Jekyll can practically feel her nails digging into their own skin. Silver glints under her sleeves. Jekyll watches, heart in their mouth, as she towers over them, stock still and silent. They can already feel her knife against their throat; the sharp weight of life and death. The quick slash to tip the scales in her favor.

They swallow, brace themself, but this future never comes. Eve is just … quiet.

“I think there's been a misunderstanding,” she finally says. Rage dances, white hot, in the spaces between her words, but she chokes it back, regards Jekyll with a look that’s somehow even worse. “I didn’t make Egg do anything. I opened the door, two days after my father’s death, only to be confronted by a powerless boy I didn’t know begging me to protect him. He was – a mess. His hair was unwashed, his eyes were bloodshot – and he kept smiling, smiling and begging like he didn’t know how to stop.”

She swallows, eyes flashing, nails buried in the fold of her palm. Jekyll can only wait. A horrible, sinking fascination is starting to rise inside them like bile.

The terrifying thing is, they can see this younger Egg. They can see him, sometimes shorter in their mind's eye, sometimes not, knocking with trembling hands at Eve’s door, some past he doesn't want to think of biting at his heels. They can see his smile, wide and clean, curling like a ghost under desperate eyes.

And if they can see him, and if Eve's version is true – then what does that make their vouching of him?

They try to push the thought back. Eve however still isn't done, continues her story with hatred: “Finally, I had enough. I told him there was enough on my plate as it was – that I couldn't even protect myself. That I had seven bodies to my name, and no idea how to get rid of them before they got traced back to me. I told him to get out and come back when he found a way to make himself useful. I thought that – I don't know. That he’d die off. Or come back with something I could work with. Anything. Gun slinging, patching up wounds – even cooking would have been alright.”

She leans over, silhouetted against the window in a shock of white. Her face is perfectly blank. “Do you know what he came back with?”

Wordlessly, Jekyll tries for a shrug. It comes out as a twitch.

“He came back with a severed arm.”

She pauses, eyes flitting to Jekyll as if in search of a reaction. Jekyll can’t speak. Their tongue feels like sand in their mouth.

“It was from one of my victims’. He made that very clear. He’d even left their wristwatch on – it was still ticking, he’d been so careful not to break it. And he – Egg, he was swaying; there was blood all over his mouth. He said he’d gotten rid of the other six bodies for me. He said, I figured out how I can be useful.”

She stops again. Jekyll can tell the story is over, but still something feels unfinished between them, the silence thick and heavy. Eve sighs. Jekyll feels sick.

“I only told him to make himself useful,” she repeats, and it’s tired now, almost resigned. “He chose this for himself. And I won’t apologize for taking what’s offered to me.”

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

[beerecordings]

Between Two Houses

Part 16 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

My taglist is a separate post so let me know if you would like to be added or removed. Wow guys I am so damn happy to be posting again :) Let’s do this!!

They’ve all made choices. Jameson, for his part, has had a lot of choices made for him. Maybe even some of the choices he will make are already made for him. He doesn’t know. This is all so much. He thinks he’d like to choose for himself, but he might not get a chance. There’s an itching at the back of his head.

Jameson trembles.

Jameson trembles.

Jameson trembles.

He doesn't know when the shaking first started. He doesn't think he always shook like this, but, then again, sometimes memories go missing in his head. Reflecting, he knows it must have happened somewhere between the day Anti stole him and the day Anti gave him his knives as a present, because by then the only steadiness he could find was with a blade in his hands.

And he was good with a blade in his hands. He was good. He felt a little safer.

He used his knives on Anti, once.

He had been tortured that morning – he remembers the causal offense precisely; he had spent too long outside, a whole three hours instead of two – and he was hiding beneath his cot, frailly coughing blood.

There was an illness in his chest and thick cuts in his ribs and the pain throughout his body was fresh and hot and stinging. He had not eaten in two days. There were times when that great agony became a desperate love for Anti, a desperate attempt to justify the suffering he was in by promising himself that this brotherhood was worth it, but on that night, there was nothing but hatred.

There was nothing but hatred.

Anything is better than this, Jameson decided hollowly, dragging himself out from under his bed and picking up a pair of his knives. Let him kill me. Please, God, let him kill me.

He didn't bother trying to sneak up on him. There was never any point. Anti always knew where he was, what he was doing, what he could do, and often he seemed to see his very thoughts. Jameson's breath rattled thin through his body and he left his room, turned in the empty doorway, and came to stand before Anti at the top of the stairs.

“Hi, Dapper,” said Anti, smiling far too wide.

Jameson threw himself at him like he was insane, frothing blood and saliva, and Anti was corporeal enough to be shoved to the ground. They fought, and for the first few seconds, Jameson felt that they were caught in a fight to the death, the final culmination of all that he had been through discovered in the violent thrashing of his knife and the strength of his hands, but then – but then.

Anti laughed.

Jameson, confused and terrified, tried harder and harder, struck him again and again, brought his knife into his glitching stomach and wailed without sound to see that it did not hurt him, it did not hurt him, it did not even make him flinch; he only laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

They tussled for a long time, Anti smiling and giggling just the same as he did whenever they mock-fought, pushing playfully at him, tugging at his hair, occasionally biting at his wrists or his ears, while Jameson continued trying to stab him. Eventually the younger brother wore himself out. Weeping, wheezing, choking on and slicked in blood, Jameson collapsed into Anti's lap.

And Anti held him, amused, and stroked his hair for a long time while he screamed.

There was never even any punishment. There was never the slightest punishment for that.

Because his fury meant nothing.

His pain meant nothing.

His decision – his choice – his fury – meant nothing.

He fell asleep. Dreamed vaguely of a smiling boy in a red hood.

The next morning, he convinced himself he loved Anti again.

And he trembled.

And trembled.

And trembled.

“Do you always shake like this?” asks Henrik.

He feels like a dead thing. His mouth tastes like dust. He makes no move to answer. Makes no move to sign. Makes no move to look at Henrik.

He's been clammed up for hours now and the doctor is becoming afraid.

“Jameson, can you meet my eyes?” he asks.

Jamie's gaze is fixed on the white door of the spare room like he expects it to catch fire and then charge at him. The overhead light is on, but the blinds of the window behind them are closed, leaving them both streaked with feeble slats of golden light.

“Can you even hear me?” adds Henrik, concerned. “Maybe it's your ears, not your mouth, where the problem is?”

At this, Jameson's mouth curves down ever-so-slightly at the edges and his eyes, just for a moment, flicker over to Henrik's. He reaches up to touch his trembling hand to his bruised throat and gives no reply.

Chase opens the door and Jameson jolts so hard Henrik wonders if he hasn't been shot. He didn't know it was possible for the littlest brother to get any more stiff, but here he is, staring at Chase as though the apocalypse has come wearing a snap-back and a PMA hoodie.

“Poor buddy, still shaking so much,” Chase frowns, closing the door behind him. He carries clean clothes and a glass of water, not that they've been able to get him to drink or eat anything for the past 12 hours. “Do you think this room's making him nervous?”

“What, does this room make you nervous?”

“I don't know. For a spare bedroom, Marvin was kind of territorial about it.”

“Yeah, I think have practiced shit in here. Don't know what. Probably don't want to know what.”

Marvin. The name registers distractedly through the back of Jameson's head. That must be the cat's name. Anti never told him. He was only ever “kitten” or “witch,” and Anti did not entertain questions about him or any of the others.

The drunk – the actor, the gunman – sits down beside him on the black sheets of the bed, and guilt nearly makes Jameson cry.

“How you doing, buddy?” Chase reaches out to wrap a warm arm around Jameson's shoulders and rubs his arm. “How about something to drink, huh? Must be thirsty. Let's get some water in you.”

Jameson's mouth has gone very dry, but not from the mention of water. He is choking on Chase's kindness, on his sweet vanilla and whiskey smell, on the memory of hot black blood pouring out of his heart as he looked up with eyes impossibly forgiving, the memory – oh, oh, is he bleeding now? Jameson swears he feels warm wet blood blossoming against his shoulder, where Chase, kind and loving, is pressed against him –

“Chase, let him go. Chase, you're scaring him. Chase – ”

“Sorry,” cries Chase's panicked voice, and then his arm is gone, and Jameson realizes that he is breathing very hard, his chest moving in rapid, ragged gasps. Chase and Henrik are speaking again, but their voices are far off in the distance, and anyway, he doesn't care what they have to say. He doesn't care about anything anymore. He is frail as the glass that remains when the window is already once-shattered, as stable as a leaf in a hurricane; a thousand emotions have long since overwhelmed him and his heart is very, very broken.

Chase slicked in blood, Henrik chained to a rebar pole, the bright slit in Jackie's arm, and, in the middle of it all, Jameson himself, my fault, my fault, and for all that I have done and failed to do, I still wasn't enough to make him want me at all –

He cannot breathe.

Fury! He's angry and he strikes the bed with his fist. His speaking hands have known blood and the strangled emotion of murder. Guilt! He's ashamed and he cries, reaching up to hide his face from these strangers who have already named him as their own and given him care and protection. Sorrowful! Sorrowful, sorrowful, he has lived every day of his life with a sorrow and a desperation crying inside his chest, and none of it is fair, and none of it is right, and he needs it all to be over.

“Jameson, breathe!” Henrik gives instruction through gritted teeth, standing before his little brother and holding his shoulders. Jameson has stopped responding completely. His hands are on his heart and his blue eyes stare up at the ceiling as he hyperventilates. “Jameson, Jameson, here I am, okay? Chase, maybe you should go – here I am, it's okay. Anti's not here, Liebling. Anti's not here. You're safe. You're safe.”

Anti's not here. Anti's not here. Anti's not here. Jameson hates him, Jameson loves him. Jameson  doesn't know what to feel or say or do. It's one of the first times in his life that the choice – that any choice – has been his to make.

His throat sends throbbing pain up into his head and mouth and down into his back and shoulders. He's growing dizzy from hunger, but Anti wouldn't want him to eat their food. And always, for hours, there has been a scratching at the back of his head, a scratching at the back of his head, a reminder of something he has forgotten – it was important, what was it? It was something Anti told him. It was important. It was an order. It was important. It itches.

“Please,” he says, and it is the softest sign, it is a frailty, his fingers touched to his chin and then drawn quietly away again, and still he cannot meet Henrik's eyes. “Please.”

Please, end this. Please, let me die. Let him kill me. I can't take this. I've done my suffering. Haven't I, doc? Haven't we suffered together? I need this to stop. Get Anti and let him take it all away. Get your syringe and let me drown back into sleep. Get the mask or the cat and let them kill me, and then, if I'm damned, at least I will know where I belong. Let this moment pass. Let this moment pass. Let this moment pa

The moment passes.

And the next, and the next, and the next, and Jameson, wide-eyed and choking, is in the silver river once again, as time, at the call of his shaking hands, rushes faster and faster past him.

Henrik is gone. Chase is gone. Anti, Jackie, Marvin, all washed away.

The water flows over his head and about his body. He stares around him, wide-eyed and knee-deep in something other-worldly.

It's real then, he realizes. Nothing has felt real for hours, the world far away and in dissonance with his panicked harmony, but this – this place feels real, feels right. He lets a hand drift through the cool water. It does not wet his fingers. The pressure is painless. Everything is silent and gentle. Everything is his. It's real, this power. It's real.

For a long time, he only watches, watches, watches, and the river is obedient, and the moment passes. It's strange, how easy it is. He feels, in a way that he has never felt before, that this is something that he was created for, or maybe that it was created for him. Eventually, he sits down on the rocky floor of the riverbed.

Images move past him.

A boy with a red hood. A boy with a cat mask. A boy with a wound in his throat, but not Anti. He can tell from the way he moves. He puts his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees and he watches. Is this someone's memory? The people who have lived in the house where he stays now? Or is it just time?

He sees Henrik and Chase side-by-side, sat next to a bed, their heads turned warmly to each other and their hands close together as they talk, low and easy, until it is late at night. Chase's arms are bandaged. Henrik is pale. Jameson recognizes a survival struggle in their eyes, but he also thinks that's probably what friendship looks like. They smile at each other.

He sees the mask, though his face is not yet scarred, standing in river of his own, picking up rocks from the shore and skipping them skillfully across the water. Every now and then, he looks to the side, where Jameson cannot see, and he laughs, hard and earnest, and answers a voice Jameson cannot hear.

He sees Mr. Jack – no, it is Anti, not Jack. He sees Anti stood in front of a mirror, leaning over a sink, retching. He spasms hard, and for a second, when he looks up, there is terror in his eyes, and Jameson reads on his mouth the words “Who am I?”

He sees the house where he lived with Anti. He sees the house that Marvin made for his brothers. He sees the doctor and the mask and the cat and the gunsman and the demon and Mr. Jack.

He sees himself.

Smiling and earnest.

Shaking and scared.

And he wonders, in all this, between two houses, between the two dogs that have always torn him apart like a wishbone, in all that he has and all that has been stolen from him, just where it is that he's supposed to fit in.

Maybe that's something I'm supposed to figure out for myself.

He realizes he's breathing easy again.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Maybe that's something... I get to choose?

He feels a little calmer.

A knife in his hands has always made him feel calmer, and though he likes to watch, passively, as the images go by, what he sees first of all in the silver river is the ways it could be wielded to protect himself.

To protect himself and to hurt others.

This is what Anti trained him to do, after all. To be dangerous. To see violence. To use weapons.

And to find Jack, Jameson.

Find Jack.

And lead me to him.

His head really, really itches.

He thinks he probably needs to go back to the world as it was.

He reaches for the watch in his pocket and breathes in deep, his fingers tightening around the stop button, and as he presses it, he catches one more glimpse of time in the water of the silver river.

“Hi,” signs a boy who looks like him, but who is not him, a boy who is not Anti or Jackie or Marvin or Henrik or Chase. He smiles bright. His eyes are very blue.

“Hi,” signs Jack. “Hi, JJ.”

And then they are both gone away.

[hollandroos]

The Price We Pay | Chapter 2

Summary: A one night stand was all it took for your entire life to change. You're shoved into unknown territory, agreeing to fake date the prince long enough for his parents and the media to get off of his back only there are a few issues... one of them being that you really can’t stand each other.

Series Masterlist | Wattpad | Playlist

Words: 2.8k - Future chapters will be a lot longer, I just struggled a lot with this one.

Warnings: None really for this chapter

A/N: This chapter isn’t as jam packed but it was needed for the storyline– good/interesting things are coming for these two!! enjoy the rather timid storyline while it lasts. Chapter three is going to be FULL! Also I did decide to keep the Royal AU in this just because changing it proved more stressful then I originally thought and this just... works better in the long run!!

Agreeing to that deal had to be the best and worst thing you had done in your life because within minutes, Tom had left with no more than a thank you and an ‘I promise I’ll get back to you later.’ That was enough to leave you wide-eyed and overthinking. Everything that had happened in the span of the last ten minutes sounded nearly insane.

You then had to think about the fact that ‘dating’ Tom came with meeting his parents, the king and queen as well as having to keep up an act in the public eye. Sure you dealt with him the other night but both of you were drunk and needy, now you were fully sober and despising the idea of having to be a full-time girlfriend to someone you’d known for a few days. You felt a pang of what could only be a distaste for the prince and maybe you were just being a grump. Anyone else would have been overjoyed to be in this situation but not you.

In your eyes he wasn’t a royal– though you never gave them a second thought— he was just Tom, someone you met in a bar and happened to go home with.

He hadn’t fully informed you about what you’d gotten yourself into, not yet warning you of the extent of the media and his responsibilities but he didn’t have time. He left with his hood thrown over his head once more, looking like robin hood or that arrow character you’d seen in comic books. His promise to get back to you was also a promise to sort out plans, dates to please the public and fittings for expensive clothes that would make you look good enough to be seen with him.

Now, maybe Tom should have informed you of the extent of the situation because then you wouldn’t be heavily debating between further destroying his reputation and becoming the worst thing for his image, or actually doing what he wanted and becoming the picture perfect girlfriend. But rules were made to be broken, right? Even when it came to the royals?

What the fuck was he doing?

It did mean one good thing, however, that you didn’t have to go to work that day, or the day after and not have to worry about losing your job. You close the door with a slam once you could no longer see his coat dragging across the ground and slide the lock as you chuck your bag down and trudge back into the kitchen. You were going for a second bowl of cereal.

Poor Mallery was still staring in shock, her rake now hard against the pavement and you only hoped that she wouldn’t pull her back out picking it up.

“Who was at the door?”

You look over, seeing your roommate wobble into the room. Milly’s hair was all over the place like a birds nest, a robe thrown around her plaid pyjamas messily and she yawned unattractively, heading straight to the pot of not so freshly brewed coffee. The girl loved anything to do with drama and gossip, insisting that nothing good ever happened around here and she would have eaten your story up with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

You shrug your shoulders, groaning when you see that you were out of milk. “Just those kids from down the road trying to sell us cookies again.”

“Again? Maybe it’s because we bought three packs last time.” She snorts and sips her coffee, burning her tongue within the first sip and curses. Though you hoped it was because she’d tasted the scolding bitterness of the coffee instead of spotting the paper sitting on the dining table.

“Hey, you know the prince?” You question, staring at the closed door.

“Tom? Of course, I do, he’s a damn snack.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes that was somehow tied with the desire to tell her all about your night out– she’d find out eventually.

“What else do you think of him? Like, seriously.”

Milly shrugs her shoulders. “He seems cocky but definitely has a certain charm, you know? I think he’ll make a good king one day, but he actually has to settle down first.”

Sober you felt that Tom was a complete and utter asshole for getting you into this mess.

Maybe you were just too blind and full of unnecessary hatred to see that you got into it the second you dragged him out of that bar.

-

Tom had raced back to a house at a speed like no other, dodging the townsfolks and had gotten oddly close to knocking over a stall of fresh fruits and vegetables– why they were up at only near seven? He didn’t know. However, Tom was spoiled and had his fruits brought to him fresh every morning served on a silver platter with matching forks and knives. The only work the boy had done in his life was preparing to take the throne one day, which wasn’t much work at all, he was born for this.

He raced up to his room but it was hard with the number of stairs and irreplaceable sets of furniture that scattered around the house. The last thing he wanted to do was break something and upset his mother. Everything was either gold, white or silver despite Toms advice that was to add a little dark blue or red, he really had an eye for those two colours– obviously. He mutters good mornings to the maids as he went with one destination in mind: his room.

Tom already knew Harrison would be there waiting nervously. The boy was always more on-edge than Tom was, even growing up.

He tears the door open and as he expected, Harrison was there and practically jumped up off of the bed the second he walks in, eyes wide and unexpecting.

“Your dad's up and he’s not happy.” Harrison hisses, helping Tom slid the coat off of his shoulders and hung it up for the boy who fumbled around the room to find an outfit that his parents would appreciate. Anything was better than the dirty riding gear. “I told him that you went out for an early ride before breakfast.”

“When is he ever happy?” Tom scoffs. “Look, I sort of fixed things. They won’t be able to stay mad at me.”

In the hour or so that he’d been gone his bed had been made, clothes that were scattered across the floor had been picked up and his desk had clearly been organised. Tom didn’t ask if the maids had come in or if Harrison had been the one to clean but he had a hunch it was the boy that had been nervously sitting on his bed in desperate need of a distraction.

“What did you do?” Harrison wasn’t actually sure he wanted to find out, knowing Toms track record with impromptu plans.

“Come have breakfast with us and find out.”

“You know I’m not supposed–”

“This is a formal invitation from a royal, you can’t say no. My mum loves you, she won’t care.” Tom tells him, checking himself out in the mirror. Tom runs a hand through his curls, fluffing them up a little. “Besides, don’t you want to hear my little less-than-fantastic plan to steal the public's gaze from those stupid photos?”

“I can say no and besides, your dad scares me,” Harrison utters, speaking honestly and rightfully so, the king would scare anyone.

“You’re a fool.” Tom stops, grabbing Harrison's arm and tugs him towards the door. The maids stop and nod their heads respectfully as they see the prince. “C’mon, we’re having pancakes.”

Maybe Tom should have stopped and taken another moment to regain his breathing or think things through more thoroughly because he was acting on a whim, pulling things out of a hat as he went.

Maybe deep down he was scared– at least anxious.

-

Tom and Harrison stepped into the room carefully, each taking care as they discussed Tom’s stupidity in harsh whispers that only made the boys feel more unsettled.

He had been growing bored lately and asked the lords for something but not this– god, not this.

Tom could lie to his father but not his mother, possibly the most pure-hearted woman he’d ever come to know.

He felt terrible but knew this was the best option, the only way he could still look his mother in the eye after hearing what occurred.

The table was thick with tension and it was obvious before they even sat down but the second he did, he wished he hadn’t. Harrison obviously felt the same, choosing the seat closest to the Queen whom he could never not feel safe around.

It was right there in front of him, an obviously thrown around paper as well as his father who was as red-faced and angry as ever. The last thing the King wanted right after being woken up was to find out that his son had been causing more trouble.

His beard was greying, but still trimmed as neatly as ever and the crown that sat upon his head even as unnecessary as it was at this time of the morning remained on a slight angle, bits of dark hair sticking out from underneath.

Tom was probably going to look like him one day. He just hoped he wouldn’t be as miserable a king.

He knew it was coming before it happened– like a volcano that spewed spurts of ash before it erupted.

“Do you know how bad this is? What it could do to you?” There it was. “You’re a prince, Thomas. You can’t just go around doing this. We finally fixed things after– after her and now this?”

The king sighs, rubbing his wrinkly temples.

His dad held the paper with a clenched fist, practically ripping the pages that had been handed to him by one of his men first thing. Tom had to swallow harshly, not wanting to stare at the pictures again– it had already been a long morning because of them and he was tired at only seven thirty. Plus, they were reasonably explicit photos and his parents had seen them.

Oh fuck.

Somehow his night of fun and games had turned into one he dreaded thinking back to. What really did make him feel an ounce of satisfaction was seeing that you still wore little pieces of it, like the marks scattered along your neck and he suddenly felt uncomfortable in his seat remembering the scratches down his back.

“Look, it’s really not that bad–”

A plate of pancakes is placed in front of the prince and he nearly forgot about the argument upon seeing large chocolate chips and a side of blueberries. Harrison’s was similar, but instead of blueberries, it had strawberries. He was allergic to blueberries, they made his throat swell up and if they didn’t get to him on time, well, one can imagine what would happen.

A fist knocks the table and the Queen jumps back in response, cutlery clatters. “Not that bad? You have a mind of your own, boy, I tell you.”

“I know it looks really bad and you’re right, it is but there’s another side to the story, I promise.” He rushes.

“I don’t know what you can do to get yourself out of this mess, boy.” Words slithered through gritted teeth like venom. Harsh.

A sullen silence sat around the dining room, everyone including Tom too afraid to speak up and even his mother sat still, clutching her cutlery set for dear life as the older man's voice hit each of the four walls.

“It’s just– it’s not what it looks like.” He hurries out, knowing that the older man's temper was only limited at this point. Tom swallows thickly, trying to ignore his clammy hands. Tom glances at Harrison who felt that with every second, he was being dragged more and more into this mess that he hadn’t wanted to know about in the first place.

“Your Highness–”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom spills the words quickly, muttering them so quick he swore they were barely audible.

He watches his mother's eyes widen dramatically, her face shifting from stern to confused to slightly excited. Tom wanted to smirk knowing that he had at least one of his two parents in the bag. Of course it wasn’t too hard for his mum to believe it considering she’d been pestering him to find someone for months now.

“Your– your what?” His dad stumbles.

“You and Mother were right. I finally sat down and thought about everything you were saying and I realised that I need to stop wallowing in self-pity. I met her a couple months ago at an event and we started dating about two weeks ago.”

Tom grit his teeth together, knowing that the completely made up story sounded just that… made up. Would his father really listen to him?

His mother leans forward in her seat, sparing her husband a glance and Tom plays with a fork. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She speaks, soft voice resonating with his.

“I wanted to make sure things were right before I told you, but now you know.” Tom shrugs his shoulders, the clothing he’d thrown on just moments after he’d gotten back from yours hanging off of his body. To his family, it would’ve been classed as untidy but they were all too distracted at this point. “The media ruined the surprise I guess– she’s really lovely.”

“Harrison, did you know about this?” Derek directs his gaze to Harrison who nearly chokes on his pancakes. The poor boy had been trying to ignore the conversation, not wanting any part of whatever mess his mate was getting himself in but had no failed drastically.

He coughs repeatedly, dabbing his face with a napkin. “Huh– no, no of course not. It’s just as a big of a surprise to me as it is to you, your highness.”

His cheeks ran red, searching for a quick escape that wouldn’t come.

“When do we get to meet this… Y/N?” Anne's gentle eyes remained on her son, heart fluttering at the thought of her son finally finding someone that made him happy.

“I can invite her over if that would make you guys happy but I’ll warn you, she’s nervous about meeting you.” Tom offers, he also offers a warm smile, picking around at his breakfast with the fork.

He was nervous about bringing an absolute stranger to the castle, not knowing how you’d act and if you’d make this mess worse than it already was. He made a mental note to get you to come over a few hours earlier to get a suitable dress fitted and to learn only the simplest manners and rules because god knows the ones in the castle were much stricter than most out in the town. Plus, he couldn’t ignore the mental image of you in a fancy– near princess— dress.

The look of uncertainty his mother sent him didn’t go unnoticed by Tom. She was ever so observant and rightfully so bringing up a son that enjoyed to cause trouble and sneak around when he thought no one was watching.

“Two days from now we want to meet this girl that you’ve been hiding from us.” Derek reaches over and pats Tom on the shoulder forcefully making the boy jolt forward slightly. “I’m proud of you, Thomas. Not only for listening to us and admitting that we were right but also for finding a girl and keeping her around.”

“Thank you, I really think you’ll like her.” He wore a fake smile, lips pressed together firmly. It was a concoction of lies that would one day get Tom into a world of trouble if this plan were to go south.

It was one thing to lie to your parents, but it was another to lie to the King and Queen– where the stakes were high and reputations were cherished.

Tom knew that this would also come with a selection of public appearances with physical affection such as hand-holding and acting happy with a girl he’d known for a little over two days. The boy could do that because if he wasn’t a prince he’d want to act in those shows downtown but you, however, that was a different story. How did he know that you wouldn’t let him down?

“Harrison? Can you please pass the syrup?”

Harrisons' cheeks were still flaming red, his eyes wide an alert as he painfully passed over the saucer to the king. He was already balls deep in this mess too and Tom sends him a look that says ‘We’ll talk about this later.’

Good fucking lord.

Leave comments or asks, reblog if you wish!! let’s talk about this chapter!

Part three!!

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @thewiseandfree @zendayacolemen @dej-okay @hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen @marvelismylifffe @lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess @southsidefandoms @justannothermonday @its-claire-louise @sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221 @joyfullyjenny @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please @futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six @c0prolalia @buckykinz @ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999 @fnosidam @randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles @justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017 @gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel @leslieandjensen @painted-soulss @practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey @holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill @elyshugh @hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644 @parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1 @tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl @thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275 @parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork @peterparkerscamera @fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst @httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb @whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26

The price we pay: @ambiibambi24 @thiccholland01 @writingisamood @mountainsforwords @joyfullyje @sithskywalkers @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @ohmyquackson @nerfariousporpoises @httplayer @myhopeisinfinite @omfgitscindyy @hollandfieldblurbs @incandescentflor @mlxbm @thescarsweleave @justmesadgirl @dramatic-and-young @thescarsweleave @ramen-tically @a--smallgirlinabigworld @spacedoutsher @thiccholland01 @in-the-potterhead-know @marvelousxtsh @popluckbih @ctrlyouthmendes @vldlvj @peruvian-bae @heaveninholland @jld20047 @nikkipea @darlingtommy @everythingeverywherelistening 

[dixielis]

An Interesting Turn of Events [2/?]

Pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Noriaki Kakyoin Summary: There were three things Jotaro Joestar was completely certain about: One. 80’s rock was the be-all end-all of music. Two. The movie Jaws wrongly portrayed sharks as evil and blood-thirsty, and he did not stand for it at all. Three. Being an alpha while also part of the Joestar-lineage was an absolute curse. Warnings: Omegaverse with omega!Kakyoin and alpha!Jotaro Dio is in this and he’s pretty creepy A/N: Chapter 2! weep woop

Read on Ao3 here: LINK

He did partially blame all the moving around on why he didn’t end up having any friends at any of these schools. Sometimes other kids would try to make small talk with him or invite him over to play with them. Kakyoin would however always turn them down. What would even be the point? He would eventually have to move away anyways. And if he didn’t get attached to anyone it was always a lot less painful to do so.

Today was his first day of his latest high school. This had to be the fourth or fifth one he would be attending. He had honestly lost count at this point.

Kakyoin went about his first day as he had done many times before. Go to the principal’s office, collect his schedule and a map over the school grounds, head over to homeroom and introduce himself to the rest of the class. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

His first day, thankfully, passed uneventfully. Aside from a few questioning glances nobody tried approaching him. Kakyoin instead spent the day homing in on the conversations going on around him, trying to learn as much about his school as possible. About what was currently going on, and most importantly, about who to avoid.

At his lunch break he decided to sit close to a group of mostly omega girls who were chatting loudly with each other. He always found that these sorts of groups seemed to have all the latest news and gossip, and that they would discuss it loudly enough for anyone to hear.

“We should all make a pact. About who we will ask to the dance”

“That is still four months away”

“You can never get started too quickly. I call Jojo!” The other girls let out noises of clear distress at this.

“Not fair! You can’t just call somebody like that”

“Well, I just did!”

“Jojo as in the tequila-smuggling one?”

“Yes!”

“Then I want the other one!”

“Not if I ask him first”

Kakyoin realized that he had quickly lost track of their conversation. Not that it seemed to be very interesting for what he was after in the first place. Whoever were considered the hottest alpha’s on campus wasn’t really anything he needed to know. It wasn’t like he was searching for one anyways.

“I was already asked to the dance actually” one of the girls exclaimed proudly.

“No way! Who was it?”

“That weird French beta. You know, the one with the weird hair?”

“Oh, what did you say?”

“I told him no. I don’t really want to go to the dance with a beta”

“You probably only did it because he has bigger boobs than you”

“He does not! I said no because I’m going to ask Dio”

“But I was going to ask Dio!”

“You can take the Frenchie instead since you seem to like his boobs so much!”

Kakyoin decided that it was time to officially zone out from their chattering. He felt like he has heard enough unrelated gossip to last him for the rest of the month.

The next couple days continued in a similar fashion. Kakyoin simply kept his head down and tried to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. Whenever somebody spoke to him he would act polite, but always try to keep himself unmemorable. He wanted to be practically invisible.

This worked surprisingly well until his fourth day. The unexpected groupwork in biology class did however end up breaking his lucky streak. Since he doesn’t know anybody in the entire school he has no choice but to let faith decide who he will partner up with.

And faith apparently decided that he deserved to suffer that day. Because of course his first official group member had to be the kind of douchey alpha that he would prefer to avoid at all costs. And of course said alpha had to start making inappropriate suggestions at him as soon as he sat down.

Kakyoin was too busy refreshing his memory of every ancient torture method he could think of to even notice the other two people taking their seats nearby. It wasn’t before Mia decided to cut of the alpha in the middle of one of his especially lewd comments that Kakyoin noticed that they were no longer alone.

The beta would then continue talking, pretending as if nothing had been going on. Kakyoin felt himself spacing out as he took a proper look around at his designated group members. Mia seemed alright, at least. The two other alphas on the other hand gave off very different vibes. Kakyoin could almost taste the tension between them in his throat. The blonde one still had an underlying scent of disgusting want coming off him. Kakyoin could see him still trying to make eye contact with him, and opted for observing the dark-haired alpha instead.

The majority of his face, his eyes included, were obscured by the brim of the cap he is wearing. His arms were crossed over his quite well-defined chest. Kakyoin silently curses himself out for even noticing the others build.

The alpha definitely gives off an intimidating aura. He is everything an ideal alpha should be after all, at least look-wise. But he also seems to be calm and secure, the exact opposite of the light-haired alpha seated in front of him.

Kakyoin’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted as the dark-haired alpha suddenly speaks up. Apparently they are now splitting up into pairs, which Kakyoin embarrassedly realizes he had completely missed while he was busy eyeing up the man in front of him.

Kakyoin gave a quick prayer to any gods that may be listening that he would end up working with the beta. But as usual, faith has other plans. Plans that end up with him forcing to pick which of the alphas he would rather work with. Which in and on itself is a very easy choice. The alpha known as Trent has returned his hands to Kakyoin’s desk, one of his fingers stroking up his wrist slowly.

God, he can’t wait to get those hands away from in.

His mind races to make up an excuse to not have to work with Trent. Lying about his father’s job might not be the smartest idea, but at least it gets the job done. Trent immediately let’s up on him, a strong sour scent now coming off him in waves. Kakyoin can’t help but smirk slightly to himself at the others change in mood.

Then Mia and Trent end up leaving, and he is all alone with the alpha who is apparently known as Jojo. Kakyoin silently cursed Trent out from under his breath. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief washing over him as he watches him walk out of his line of sight.

He turned his eyes towards the remaining alpha and suggests that they should get going as well. He only received a grunt in reply, and Jojo immediately stands up and starts heading off as well. Kakyoin quickly shoved his things back into his bag and hurried after him.

He could feel the burning hatred and jealousy coming off a group of omegas as they pass them. Their attention is clearly pointed towards him. Kakyoin only shoots them a dirty look in response. It wasn’t his fault that he ended up being partners with Mr. tall and handsome, like they clearly all yearned after so badly. Kakyoin still remembers the conversation he overheard a few days earlier, which lets him know that the alpha he is currently following is quite sought after by a large chunk of the local omega population.

They soon ended up alone in one of the spare rooms just down the hallway. Kakyoin quickly learned that the alpha doesn’t seem to say a lot, neither with his words or with his expressions. His eyes are still hidden underneath that godforsaken hat of his, making him even harder to read.

Kakyoin almost started to regret his decision of pairing up with him when he notices the dolphins covering one of the alpha’s notebooks. He bites back a smile at the revelation. A bad guy wouldn’t have sparkly, bright blue dolphins doodled on his notebook, would he?

As they start talking Kakyoin quickly realizes that Jotaro is not what he thought he would be. He doesn’t seem to mind Kakyoin’s teasing and his apparent interest in starfish is quite endearing.

When they eventually get properly started with their assignment Kakyoin finally gets the chance to take a proper look at the alpha in front of him. His hat has been angled away from his face and Kakyoin can now properly see his eyes.

They are a striking emerald green colour, and Kakyoin can immediately feel himself drowning in them. His long eyelashes and thick, slightly furrowed brows also don’t help one bit. Kakyoin immediately understands the other omegas’ reactions towards him.

Kakyoin silently curses himself out as he feels his own cheeks heat up. This was not according to the plan at all. He tried to calm his now rapid heartbeat.

He refused to fall for an alpha he had known for a total of twenty minutes.

Kakyoin jumped slightly as the bell suddenly rang, signalling the end of class. Jotaro looked up from his books and their eyes met for a split second. Kakyoin can feel his heart start racing again.

Fucking omega biology.

He quickly made up an excuse about his next class being on the other side of campus and hurried off. Hopefully Jotaro hadn’t noticed how stirred up he had become. He could feel his heartbeat returning to normal as he hastily made his way down the corridor.

He was fine. None of that necessarily had to mean anything.

He quickly checked over his schedule. Art was going to be his next and final class for the day. He let out a breath of relief at this. In art class he could hopefully just take a seat in a corner and ignore everyone around him. People wouldn’t even think there was anything strange about it, and would hopefully just believe that he was just another passionate art student.

Kakyoin arrived at the classroom a good few minutes before the class is about to start. The room consists of a number of larger tables, that they are obviously supposed to share.

Great. Not even here he could be alone.

Kakyoin silently scanned through the people already seated. He knows that people from all years are mixed together, so he is even unsure of which students are in his grade.

Most tables are already seemingly full, people chatting loudly among each other. He noticed that one of the tables however still had just one occupant. An omega who was already bent over a sketchbook, doing quick confident strokes over the pages. He seemed to be completely engulfed in his drawing and doesn’t even look up as Kakyoin takes the seat opposite him. Kakyoin however doesn’t mind this one bit, enjoying the few moments of silence before the rest of the seats around the table inevitably end up occupied as well.

Just as he predicted, a few more people are soon seated as his table. Luckily none of them are paying him any mind either.

“You mind if I sit here?”

Kakyoin turned his head and looked up at a blonde beta dressed in an interesting mix of sky blue and bright pink. He had a polite smile on his face as he gestured to the seat next to Kakyoin.

“Oh. Sure, no problem” Kakyoin replied, shifting slightly to the side as the beta sits down next to him.

“You new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before?” the beta asked as he looked him up down.

“Yeah, I just transferred here a few days ago. Name’s Kakyoin”

“I’m Caesar, nice to meet you” the other boy offered, holding out his hand, smiling brightly at Kakyoin as he shook it. Caesar then starts making small talk with him, telling him stories about various things that has happened around campus.

“Could you please keep it down, some people are trying to work here” an unfamiliar voice hissed out. The boy across from them who had previously been caught up in his sketching was now glaring straight at them.

“Shut it, we’re not in a fucking church” Caesar replied curtly, like he they had this conversation several times before.

“Doesn’t mean that you have to shout!”

“You’re the only one shouting here, you know”

“Shut up!”

Caesar let out a snort at the others clear irritation. He then turned back towards Kakyoin.

“That’s Rohan, don’t mind him he’s just a fucking gremlin”

“Stop calling me that you fucking bottle of mediocre dressing-” Rohan was suddenly interrupted by a new voice being added to the mix.

“Gentlemen, there’s no need to fight” the voice was almost alarmingly calm and practically dripping with the semblance of alpha. Kakyoin quickly turned his head over his shoulder to regard the newcomer, who is standing right behind him.

His hair was a similar shade to Caesar’s, but that seems to be the only thing they have in common. This man is a lot broader, and taller, and immediately gives of a strong aura of alpha. Kakyoin’s eyes snap up to look at the others face, only to find that he is already looking straight at him. His head is slightly cocked to the side, a clear look of interest hidden somewhere deep in his yellow eyes.

The alpha breaks their eye contact to sit down in the vacant seat next to Kakyoin.

“Nobody said that you could sit down” Caesar said coolly, clearly not happy about the alpha joining them. The alpha however ignored him, instead choosing to keep all his attention fixed on Kakyoin.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, his eyes not leaving Kakyoin’s for even a second.

“It’s Kakyoin. I’m a new transfer student”

The alpha hummed in approval, the sound low in his throat. He reached his hand out towards Kakyoin’s ear. Kakyoin felt himself freeze up as Dio gently poked at his earring.

“Kakyoin, huh. It suits you”

Kakyoin immediately decided that he did not like the way his name sounded coming from those lips. Not one bit.

“I’m Dio Brando, a pleasure to make your acquaintance”

Kakyoin recalls the discussion that the omega girls were having a few days earlier. Dio had been one of the names thrown around in their conversation. So he was clearly someone that most people knew of. Kakyoin was not very surprised at this, as he understood why Dio would seem desirable to an omega. At least to those that didn’t spend a lot of their waking time actively trying to avoid such people, like Kakyoin himself did.

But before Kakyoin had time to come up with a reply their teacher had entered the room. Kakyoin felt as relief washed over him. There was a certain coldness in Dio’s eyes that he didn’t like. And Caesar’s reaction toward him joining them worried him as well.

The assignment of the day was to do some simple sketches of different types of landscapes. The room was quickly filled with a low buzz of voices as people begun talking among each other while getting to work.

Kakyoin and Caesar immediately hit it off, discussing which upcoming games they planned on purchasing. Kakyoin found him to be surprisingly easy to talk to. Every now and then Rohan would throw in a word about how annoying they were, but Kakyoin quickly learned to simply disregard it.

“Favourite final fantasy game in three, two, one”

“Seven”

“Ten”

“But seven is so good!”

“Have you even played the tenth one?”

“I have but it comes nowhere close to-“ Caesar suddenly trailed off as a splatter of paint without warning come flying straight at him, coating him in the dark green substance.

“Rohan, what the fuck?!”

“I told you to shut up” Rohan replied calmly, giving Caesar a slight smirk before turning his attention back to his sketchpad. Caesar cursed him out from under his breath.

“An important lesson to learn, Kakyoin, is to never wear your best clothes to art class. Because Rohan will undoubtedly fuck them up because he can’t stand people talking like normal human beings” Caesar let out an irritated huff at the end of his rant.

“I’ll be right back, I just have to get this shit out of my clothes before it stains” Caesar then quickly walked off towards the closest bathroom.

Kakyoin looked over at Rohan, who shot him another sharp glare, clearly warning him that he would be next if he didn’t lower his voice. Kakyoin only let out a snort at this, and went back to sketching at his current drawing of a desert, adding in a few palm trees.

“You’re pretty good”

Kakyoin nearly jumped out of his seat as Dio’s voice sounded directly into his ear. He could feel the warmth from his breath ghosting over his neck. Kakyoin felt a sense of uneasiness wash over him.

“Oh, thank you, Dio” He replied, deciding that he should probably at least attempt to stay polite with the alpha. Dio hummed slightly.

“Any particular locations that inspired it?”

“Well, I went to Egypt with my parents a few years back” Kakyoin disclosed, and tried to ignore the feeling of Dio’s breathing against his neck as he kept on drawing.

“Beautiful place” Dio agreed, leaning forward a bit. “I lived there for a few months a while back”

“I see” Kakyoin replied curtly, unsure of what to say. He simply continued to draw, while discreetly watching Dio from the corner of his eye. He noticed that Dio had given up on watching him sketch and was now looking directly at him again. But he didn’t say or do anything. He simply sat there, almost hovering over him but never actually touching him.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your own piece, Brando?”

Kakyoin turned his head towards Caesar, who had seemingly just returned from the washroom. He glared down at Dio with slightly narrowed eyes.

“I was simply admiring Kakyoin’s work” Dio replied sweetly, but backed off none the less. Kakyoin looked between the two men as Caesar took his seat again. The tension between them felt so strong you could cut it with a knife.

And in the blink of an eye everything seemed to turn back to normal again.

“Guess who managed to save his shirt” Caesar clapped his hands together excitedly as he smiled brightly at Kakyoin. “In your face, Rohan”

Caesar and Kakyoin quickly got back on track of their previous discussion. They did however try to keep their voices down, so they wouldn’t warrant any more hissing noises from Rohan. Before Kakyoin knew it the bell had rung, signalling the end of the school day. People around him started to pack up and head out off the classroom, and Kakyoin did the same. Just as he was about to stand up, Caesar grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Hey, you wanna swap numbers real quick? I want to send you the video of that speed-run I told you about earlier”

“Eh, sure” Kakyoin said hesitantly. “Let me just grab my phone”

He started to rummage through his bag, finally finding it at the very bottom of it, hidden underneath a whole days’ worth of textbooks. He fished it up and turned towards Caesar, whose earlier carefree expression had turned sour. Kakyoin quickly looked around and noticed that they were now left alone in the room.

“Listen, Kakyoin” Caesar begun, and Kakyoin turned his attention back towards him.

“You should watch out around Dio. He may seem charming eunough, but it is all an act. He is absolutely ruthless when things don’t go his way”

“Why?” Kakyoin asked wearily. “What has he done?”

Caesar let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a long and complicated story, but he has these really sick ways of seeking revenge on the people that he feels have wronged him. One of my friends are one of those people, he actually ended up getting stabbed because Dio couldn’t handle not being the best at everything”

Kakyoin’s eyes widened at this.

“Is he okay?” Caesar just nodded in response.

“He’s fine. But there’s been lots of other rumours of things he’s done going around. But his family are all lawyers, so they usually succeed in keeping it on the down low. That’s why you’ll probably only hear people around here praising him” Caesar fell silent.

“I see” Kakyoin replied, an unnerving feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Thank you, Caesar. I’ll keep that in mind”

Caesar gives him a slight smile. They stand in silence for a few moments.

“Right! Could I still have your phone number? I wasn’t kidding about that speed-run”

Kakyoin happily agrees and they quickly swap numbers. Caesar then picks up all of his stuff and heads towards the door.

He hesitates just as he is about to walk out of the room, and turns back to face Kakyoin again.

“Please do be careful around Dio. I’ve hears rumours about the… things he has done to omegas’ in particular”

“I’ll be careful. Promise”

“Good. I guess I’ll see you later then” Caesar lifted his hand in a wordless goodbye and walked out the door. Just as Kakyoin was about to pick up his stuff his head poked around the doorframe again.

“And if he tries anything always punch for the throat” Kakyoin let’s out a quick laugh at this.

“I know how to fight, Caesar”

“Just making sure. Bye then!”

And then his head once again disappears, and Kakyoin can hear his footsteps moving away down the hall. Kakyoin throws his bag over his shoulder and follows out into the hallway. The school is almost entirely empty by now. Which wasn’t very surprising, very few people enjoyed being in school enough to actually stick around after the day had ended.

Kakyoin made his way towards the main entrance, and out into the slightly cool afternoon air. The sky had begun to darken ever so slightly. He should probably get a move on if he wanted to make it home before it turned completely dark. He started digging through his pockets for his headphones, as he began walking, turning down onto the road toward his house.

“Kakyoin”

He instantly froze in place.

That was without a doubt Dio’s voice. Kakyoin turned his head slightly as he watched Dio confidently march up to him, both hands deep in his pockets.

“What took you so long, I was beginning to think that you had gotten lost somewhere” Dio smiles at him.

“Ah, Caesar just wanted to show me something before we left” Kakyoin fiddled with his thumbs nervously. “Why are you still here, Dio?”

“I was hoping to get some company on my walk home. Luckily it seems we both live down the same road” Dio flashed him another smile. His eyes however still looked as cold as they had been back in the classroom.

Kakyoin could feel his mind spinning as he tried to come up with an excuse that would keep him as far away from Dio as possible.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you, you must be pretty tired-“

“Nonsense, you are far from being a bother, Kakyoin” Dio paused as he looked Kakyoin up and down. “Shall we?” He nodded slightly, signalling for Kakyoin to keep walking. Kakyoin’s mind is at a blank, and he simply does as suggested. Dio picks up his own pace as well, walking close by his side.

“Besides” Dio continued “It would be unfortunate if you were to walk home all alone and run into someone, troublesome”

At the last few words he looked straight into Kakyoin’s eyes. Kakyoin could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“I know how to take care of myself, just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I’m helpless” he countered. His words would hopefully be enough to make Dio back off.

Dio raised his hands in defeat and let out a slight chuckle.

“I’m sure you can, but it is always better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it?”

Kakyoin just stayed quiet. But Dio didn’t seem to mind his silence. Instead he started telling Kakyoin about his studies, every now and then asking Kakyoin a question, which he in return replied to as curly as possible.

Dio however did not let this faze him, as he kept on talking until Kakyoin could finally spot his own house appearing in the distance as they turn a corner.

He let out a slight sigh of relief as he stopped to a halt in front of the gate. Dio abruptly cuts off in the middle of his sentence.

“Oh, this is where you live?” he asked, his eyes still refusing to leave Kakyoin’s form.

“Yep. Bye then” Kakyoin replied dismissively as he turned to walk up to the gate. Dio’s arm quickly shot out in front of him, stopping him from moving away.

“I live just a few blocks down the road, we’re practically neighbours” Dio smiled at him.

“That’s nice, but I really should get inside-“

Kakyoin is once again cut off as Dio shifted to stand right in front of him, effectively blocking Kakyoin’s view of the front door. One of his hands comes to rest at the slight curve of Kakyoin’s waist, and Dio leans forward slightly.

Kakyoin stood frozen in shock.

Dio’s other hand moved up to tuck his wavy bang behind his ear, before lightly grabbing a hold of his chin. Kakyoin could feel Dio’s breath on him as he leaned downwards slightly. His stomach turned.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were to come over to my place for a bit, Kakyoin” Dio’s voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Kakyoin’s mind suddenly goes clear and he springs into action, giving Dio a sharp push, resulting in him taking a few staggering steps backwards.

“I’d rather not” Kakyoin said coldly, hoping that his voice won’t betray him as he can feel a slight tremble in his hands.

Dio looked taken aback for a moment, before he quickly slipped back into his previous confident smirk.

“I see-”

“And I would prefer it if you were to back off from now on”

They stand in silence for a few moments, Kakyoin only focused on keeping his breathing even.

“I’ll head off then, it was nice meeting you, Kakyoin” Dio said in an indifferent was, bowing his head slightly. He gave Kakyoin a final short glance, his expression unreadable, before he turned around and continued on down the road.

Kakyoin watched him until he finally turns a corner and is out of his sight. He willed his heart to calm down as he quickly opened the gate and slipped in through the front door. He immediately made a beeline for his room and threw himself down on the bed.

All he had wanted was a quiet, uneventful day.

But he had gotten anything but.

Faith had apparently decided that it was time to introduce a series of new assholes into his life. First that douchebag Trent, and then that absolute creep Dio who made his skin crawl. He felt thankful towards Caesar for at least warning him about the guy. At least he had been kind towards him today. Maybe they were even close to becoming friends. They had exchanged numbers after all.

And then there was Jotaro. The past hour of activity had been quite effective in keeping him off his mind. But now that he is back home and safe in his own room his thoughts started floating back to those bright green eyes of. That were almost tender, and were missing that aura of coldness that Dio’s emitted.

Kakyoin let his eyes shut for a moment. His brain too tired from the day’s events to do anything more productive. He slowly felt himself be lulled to sleep, dreaming of emerald green eyes and dark, messy hair.

[gooseghoul]

@casualcollectionpost2 I tried to save your ask to drafts but ended up deleting it instead lol. sorry this took so long to get out, hopefully it was worth it. I didn’t know too much about Theo so I’m hoping it worked out. put 3 characters in my inbox and I’ll tell you who I’d slow burn/fake date/enemies to lovers with

slow burn: Theo I’m on the edge of Theo’s circle. I spend time with Pansy and Daphne but even more than that I’m around the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. I’m just skirting the boundary of house loyalty. I befriend no gryffindors, leave distance between them and I, but still Theo finds reason to complain.

Our year is small. We’ve no room for infighting. Have little choice but to stick together despite any differences our families have. Theo is a pure blood and proud. As vicious in his thinking as Malfoy but not insistent enough to voice it.

In third year, after Malfoy annoyed that damn hippogriff and won’t. stop. talking about it, Theo finds me at a table in the library.

“I can’t stand him right now,” he says as he pulls out a chair. potions is his best subject, charms mine, and together we find refuge in the silence of the library. the only sound the turn of a page, the scratching of quills on parchment.

he has an obsession with time. he hates how i procrastinate, forces me to sit in the library at my own table, glaring at me across tables while i ignore my essay to count the bricks in the wall.

“you’re being an idiot,” he hisses at me the day before our charms essay is due.

“I’m only hurting myself,” I say. my essay is half finished. i’ve taken two hours to write half a paragraph.

he gets taller over summer but stays just as thin. his hair gets longer too. light brown, haloes gold in the torchlight, a slight wave twisting by his ears. his smile is both sweet and grating.

in the library, it’s not just charms and potions we study. now he pores over latin textbooks, looks at conjugation tables, memorises declensions. he traces the grammar on the roof of his mouth. he’s there longer than i am most nights. but his magic is brighter for it. more vivid and powerful and he finally understands what it is we’re begging for when say a spell.

he walks that thin line between good and evil. it is the same line my family and i have learnt to walk. both pure blood. both proud. both solitary. our friendship, if we can call it that, doesn’t extend far beyond the library.

“i wish we had more time,” he says at the end of our sixth year. he doesn’t mourn dumbledore but his voice his thick. we all lost something that night, no matter what side we fell on. draco’s absence from the common room is palpable.

when war reaches us at hogwarts he runs. i stay and fight against voldemort, but not with potter. i don’t blame Theo. he could have done well under either victor. he was a child afraid of the choice of his actions. inaction isn’t always a choice — not when that inaction is to run and hide and pray.

we go to the same university. an ancient institution still tied with its muggle counterpart. peace, he says, still walking that line between love and hate. fear and acceptance.

he abandons potions for spell crafting. I study the history of our hatred. look for signs of the wizarding in ancient authors. we overlap in a need for language. in the library we learn greek the way the ancient athenians spoke it. their magic was in prayer and ritual. nearly all curses, begging the gods through words scratched in lead, folded over and pierced. there is no proof of the follow through, no result recorded in history, but the ancients believed and isn’t magic itself founded in intent?

the unspeakables scout him while he’s halfway through his postgrad. he doesn’t tell me what it is they want from him. not over coffee or drinks at the union, and certainly not in whispered conversations between the bookshelves. he’s taken to wearing jewellery: a chain round his neck which my eyes cant seem to hold.

his hair is near gold. his words well practiced. he wants me to know. i think i already do. think of how much we could do, how much we could recover had we simply had more time. it’s immoral. impossible. but we live in the after, always wanting what we left behind. the silence of loss reverberates around us all. it is there in everything we do.

back at his flat, he slips the chain round my neck and spins magic from his fingertips. i learn the taste of latin as it spills from his tongue.

fate date: Blaise

by our fifth year, blaise had worked his way through almost everyone slytherin house deemed acceptable. mostly he stuck to ravenclaws, or slytherins in the years above. no gryffindors, no one in our immediate circle. those were the only rules.

i could see why people fell for him. he was charming, handsome, and indiscriminate in who he fell into bed with (unless, of course, you were anything less than a pureblood). he was annoyingly likeable as well despite the arrogance that lay behind his charm.

“you know what would be hilarious,” pansy said one night in the common room. we were in the common room. pansy, blaise, theo and I. everyone else had long since gone to bed but we’d all gotten distracted working on our potions essay.

“what?” blaise said.

“you and M. no, blaise, think about it. you’re both absolutely perfect and it doesn’t have to be real. no one would expect it.”

I cast a look at blaise. “I thought I was a blood traitor, Pansy. as much as Blaise likes to forget, I don’t think he could look past it long enough.”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

“I said it doesn’t have to be real. That’s part of the fun. We’d all be in on the joke, and everyone else would be surprised that Blaise settled for you of all people.”

“I’d look past it. You can’t help your parents mistakes. You do like to go on about how we’re not our parents.”

“oh, you’d look past it would you? how noble of you zabini. I’m utterly charmed.”

“shh, M,” Pansy said.

“well if you’re not up for it,” Blaise continued.

“I didn’t say I’m not up for it. I’m just don’t think you’d actually be willing to touch me considering my family.”

“I said I would didn’t I?”

“fine.”

“what?”

“I said fine. we’re doing this, and I am going to prove you wrong. you’re just as prejudiced as the rest of us.”

Theo, who’d been sitting in silence this whole time turned to pansy and said. “what have you done?”

“I’ve created a monster,” she replied. her eyes glinted with the firelight. “and it’s beautiful.”

most of our dates consisted of me baiting blaise and he hissing that i ought to try harder. pansy didn’t let go of her pet project, but she let it filter through our year naturally that blaise zabini was dating a girl from a family of blood traitors. a family, though pureblood and ancient, that was entirely poor.

we sat in stone cold silence at a table in the Three Broomsticks. Pansy was somewhere behind me, talking loudly at how cute we were. look, we didn’t even need to speak to show how in love we were.

Blaise was my friend, first. but in this game we had lost something of one another. our friendship became stilted. our touches, once casual, were now stiff. people were now expecting us to show affection. so what little affection was shown was no longer natural but rehearsed. we were acting and it was the ruin of us.

we stopped talking outside of our dates. were sure to be seen with each other in the corridors. sat beside each other in classes but made certain to make time for our friends. we included them in everything we did.

i missed what we had. the friendship we both knew was based on inequality and a low lying disregard for the other’s beliefs. it was a friendship formed to keep the peace in our year. slytherins, despite all our apparent faults, stuck together. prejudices be damned.

but now things were different. blaise’s eyes didn’t linger like they had. i couldn’t even pass him notes from fear of our fingers touching.

because how could he like me? how could he when the pretence was disgusting enough. we were too different, our politics misaligned, my family’s name worth too little and his too much. it was easy to overlook before, when things didn’t matter so much. but how could we continue on as we had before when everything was suddenly significant? he had no reason to like me, no reason to look at me and —

i did not love him. i did not. i simply missed the casual touch of his hand on my arm to get my attention. i missed his easy smile. missed the assessing warmth of his eyes.

in the common room one night, after everyone else has gone to bed he comes over and sits next to me.

“I think we should stop,” he says. “go back to how things were before.”

I nod my agreement. our friendship is tainted, we both know that. we are two stubborn people, both arrogant in our own ways.

things are slow at first. the memory of how ugly things had been between us too fresh to be anything other than awkward. but he tucks my hair behind my ear one day. smiles.

enemies to lovers: Pansy

I made the mistake of wearing a jumper in gryffindor red on the train ride. It was enough for Pansy to hate me once she’d learnt my name; I was a blood traitor, a bastard, an enemy to the house. i was lucky in a sense that she fell in with draco. her hatred of hermione was the natural counterpart to his hatred of potter.

but still, I’d come back to my dormitory some evenings to find my possessions thrown all over. my shoes missing, my hairbrush in the toilet cistern, my diary with pages ripped out. so i retaliated. spread rumours to the hufflepuffs, who’d tell the ravenclaws who’d tell the gryffindors. spent time in the library brushing up on potions to at least be slightly higher up in snape’s good graces. not that snape would do anything against pansy. her family were death eaters and snape’s alliance was no secret in the school.

people think slytherin means malice and hatred, but it is far more than that. it is small cunning. the type that can’t easily be seen. it is power through any means. to be slytherin is not to be evil. it is to break people down into pieces. to watch your enemies flinch when you near. it is to meet their expectations of retaliation with a slighting smile. your indifference to them is vital. that is cunning. that is power.

i went out of my way to be a good slytherin. won our head of house’s favour in the act of evenings spent studying potions books. my victory over pansy was silent.

hate is a strong word. eventually, it winds down to this: in our fifth year we are both made prefects. snape, the evil bastard, insists we patrol together. something about pansy and i balancing each other out. she’s not pretty, not really. her mouth is a permanent frown, her nose unfortunate, eyes slightly bugged. but she is, surprisingly, adept. she’s quick to anger, finds enjoyment in berating the younger gryffindors. but she’d lay down her pride for her house. she’d hex anyone who injured her friends.

i suppose she didn’t think i was awful either. she stopped bringing up my name to spite me. said that maybe i was more worthy than my parents. i think, in her eyes, that was a compliment. i was something other than my blood traitor, muggle indifferent parents. i was a pure blood. untainted. it was my parents who were wrong, not me, i was only suffering because of them.

i’d do good under voldemort, she said. though she didn’t say his name.

i ignored her. ignored the pull of her words. she look for draco when we returned to the common room after patrol. she’d hang off his every word.

potter comes to the feast with a bloodied nose. he’s always one to make a scene. can’t ever be normal. pansy laughs at something draco says, smiles at blaise’s joke. for once, though i am two seats away, i laugh too.

we sit next to each other in defence. for the first time since coming here, we only have kind words to say about our professor. snape is teaching defence at last. our pride is biting, shared between pansy, all the other slytherins and i. he has wanted this above all else and his patience has paid off.

she’s not ugly, exactly. her mouth is full and downturned. her nose small and upturned. her eyes are wide. she’s like a portrait of innocence, all of her features coming together to create a powerful image of a girl who is anything but ugly. it’s a strange sort of pretty. an old, unconventional kind.

she doesn’t smile when she sees me. but she tilts her head. her eyebrows draw together. i undo her hatred, and she my indifference.

“but he’s there! potter’s there! someone grab him!”

I understand her words. her fear. I want to feel their bite against my throat. part of me wants my father to have the mark on his skin just so i can understand her. her words were toxic. tantalising.

i stay behind. fight against her father. defy any want the dark lord had. i am not for potter. not for that blinding black and white view of the world, but i am not for him either. i want that freedom of choice; that violent in between. i knew not of snape’s betrayal. but i think, now, he would have been proud.

retribution comes for pansy after voldemort’s defeat. she was a young girl. a child. not to be blamed but forever tarnished by her words against potter.

it is not my place to forgive her. it wasn’t me she wronged. but i have learnt as we all have the weight guilt on one’s conscience. potter will never care for her. never see a need to talk to the girl who so openly wanted his death. she was scared. a child marked by her father’s choice.

pansy has changed since i saw her last. she drinks coffee that’s mostly milk and sugar and too much syrup. her lips are soft. mouth tastes like bitter coffee and cinnamon.

in the future, she’ll stand opposite me as she does now. she’ll have learnt from her past. learnt the power of words and how ugly they can make us seem. she’ll hold my hand in hers and take my name.

[toodi-imagines]

Hey, y'all, here's a taste of my writing! Sorry it's bad 🤷🏼‍♀️

As the warm bath water laps over your skin, your muscles slowly began to ease into relaxation. Finals week always manages to take a toll on not only your mental state but also your physical condition. Nearly 30 minutes ago, Russel found you quietly sobbing in your shared room with 2d, your entire body shaking. He pried you up from 2d's desk and gently rubbed your back until you finally managed to slow your staggered breaths and stop crying. After calming you down, Russ suggested you take a bath while he prepared you some tea. As you slowly swish your arms around in the bath water listening to the splash of the water against the porcelain, you hear a tentative knock on the bathroom door. "Who is it?" You call to the person knocking. "It's me, love" a thick British accent replies from the other side of the door. "Hey, stu, come on in." you answer in a melancholy tone. He creaks open the door cautiously. "Russ told me yew weren't feelin' too well?" He quizzes as he steps in. You can't help but grin a little at his big eyes and those cute little worry lines he forms between his brows. "Yeah, I'm...just a little stressed about finals" you say, your voice breaking up on the last few words. "Oh, well yew wait here. I'm gonna go get a bathrobe, and then I'm gonna make you forget all about those stupid tests they make yew do anyway!" He turns and leaves the bathroom to retrieve his bathrobe, forgetting to close the door behind him. Not entirely appreciating having your body exposed to the rest of the house (god you can only imagine the horror on Russ's face) on the chance that they pass by, you quickly yank the shower curtain closed. Moments later you hear the clicking of shoes on the tile. Drained of energy, your heavy limbs forbid you from opening the curtain once more, and instead you opt to leave it closed until 2d opens it himself to step in. You listen quietly as you hear his belt buckle clatter and his pants fall around his ankles. However, much to your surprise, the next noise you hear is that of the toilet lid being lifted followed by the sound of urination. You hear a couple of small grunting noises accompanied by a guttural "oh yeah." At precisely the moment realization hits you that this is indeed not your boyfriend 2d outside, the shower curtain flies open revealing Murdoc in nothing but his underwear, much to you utter shock and dismay. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" You screech as you splash water at him and attempt to cover yourself. "WELL WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" He screeches back at you. "I'M TAKING A BATH WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M DOING!" you shoot back at him. You feel your eyes begin to water out of frustration. All you wanted was to relax, and you were entirely stressed out already, and now this. As you sit in the cooling bath water on the verge of tears looking up at Murdoc, he continues to yell at you "WELL WHAT IN SWEET SATAN'S NAME WERE YA DOIN' LETTIN' ME IN THEN?" Before you could manage to choke out a response, Stu arrives on the scene bathrobe in hand, his black eyes filling with rage as he observes Murdoc staring at your naked body. In height, 2D's tall body nearly fills the frame of the door. He clenches both fists, his face distorted into pure hatred. You'd never seen 2d like this before, his demeanor was usually that of complete sweetness or, at the most, only mild anger or frustration. With his heavy dark brows furrowed together and piercing, hollow eyes, the sight of him sends shivers down your spine. Though you'd be terrified to be in murdoc's position, there is something just so goddamn attractive about him. 2d marches over to Murdoc and grips his neck, towering over him. "I'm not letting you take another one." He hisses in murdoc's face. "For christ's sake, d, I'm not trying to--" Murdoc is shortly cut off by 2d's tightening grip around his throat. "Wait! Wait wait!" You cry, not wanting 2d to hurt Murdoc over a misunderstanding. "He didn't mean to come in, he just did and I thought it was you so I let him and then he saw me and now we're here and--" you attempt to explain, but you're practically rambling and on the verge of a panic attack. 2d releases Murdoc, and you watch as the rage in his eyes dissipates into terror while he waits for murdoc's retaliation. However, Murdoc appears to be in a good mood because he only spits in 2d's face and stomps out, grumbling and rubbing his neck the whole way. Already entirely stressed out, the commotion and excitement of the whole ordeal dissolves you into tears. "Oh no don't cry, love, it's alrigh', you're gonna be okay, everyfink is okay." Stuart coos as he kneels down to wrap his arms around your exposed upper body. You shiver and sniffle into his shoulder as he holds you, the cold air biting against your wet skin. He sits there for a moment, stroking your hair and calming you down until you half whimper "you can get in if you want" into his neck. He pulls away from you and places a thoughtful kiss on your forehead before undressing and climbing in behind you. You settle your back against his chest and he wraps his lanky arms around your figure. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, lifting it only occasionally to plant a kiss atop your hair. The two of you sit in drowsy, comfortable silence lulled by the sound of each other's rhythmic breathing until the bath water no longer retains any warmth. 2d strokes the side of your face lovingly and questions in a hushed tone if you're ready to get out. You quietly agree and lift yourself out of the bathtub. 2d steps out after you and reaches for two towels from the shelf. He wraps the extra fluffy one around you and places a kiss on your lips, which you gladly return. He gives you that big goofy smile with his one squinty eye that you've fallen in love with, and you can't help but giggle a little. You reach up and ruffle his wet blue hair (standing on your tip toes to do so). He quickly dries off and puts his bathrobe on before reaching down to drain the tub as you wrap your hair into a towel and put your own bathrobe on. Knowing you are much too exhausted to return to your studying, you decide that tonight is a good night to cuddle and watch movies. Just as you open your mouth to ask 2d, you hear a knock on the door. Upon opening it, you find noodle with a tea-tray in her hands. "Russ sent me up here with this." you note how meticulously the tray is arranged, complete with fresh-picked flowers in a vase. Leave it to Russ to be so thoughtful. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you two" you say accepting the tray graciously. "Well actually we were wondering if you would like to have a movie night with us? We all think you could you a break..." noodle presses on. You consider it for a moment and nod in agreement. "We'll be down in a minute, Noods" 2d chimes from behind you. Noodle nods and skips away happily, taking the tray with her. The two of you make your way back to 2d's room where you begin your hunt for the comfiest pajamas. "I fink you should wea' this!" 2d proclaims holding up a sheer, black lingerie two piece. "Stuart Put put that back" you demand. "And besides if I have to wear that, you're wearing this" you say teasingly holding up a leather collar. "Hey! Put that back!" 2d hollers with embarrassment, reaching for the collar. You hold the collar away from him where he can't reach it despite his long arms. In clumsily grasping for the collar, he manages to faceplant directly into the floor. Laughing for the first real time tonight, you stare down at him as he grins up at you sheepishly. He sits up, his cheeks flushed, and rubs his head as you help him to his feet. He stumbles a little upon standing, and you steady him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It begins slowly and gently but you quickly realize how much the stress has actually made you need this. You clench a fistful of his hair with one hand and tighten your grip on his shoulder with the other. He gets the message and slides on hand down your back. He squeezes your butt and you gasp ever so slightly before nibbling at his bottom lip. Both of his hands travel down your back and onto the backs of your thighs as he quickly hoists you up so you can wrap your thighs around his waist. You tip your head back and he begins to kiss your neck. He quickly finds that sweet spot on your neck and your dig your fingernails into his shoulders, clawing gently at his back as he teases you. "Stuart" you moan into his ear and kiss his jawline. A sudden pounding on the door breaks the two of you from your trance. "Hey, you two lovebirds wanna finish it up in there? We wanna start the movie" Russ complains through the door. You and 2d giggle together. "Be right out Russ, we were, um, busy" you reply lamely. "Yeah I know you were busy, y'all ain't quiet. The whole neighborhood knows you was busy, noisy ass white people" Russ grumbles from the other side of the door. "And I ain't wanna hear no more moanin tonight either. Tomorrow's Sunday and I'm tryna rest up for the lord, y'all best be gettin you asses out here." "Okay, Russ, we're coming" you say stifling laughter. You cut a glance back at 2d. "We should probably.. um.. go out there" you say clearing your throat. "Good plan. I spose we're gonna 'ave to, erm, finish this later then." 2d replies. "Later." You say kissing his nose before he sets you down.