#(but like...his ankle? no? look just be polite and look away for my last shred of dignity) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jabbagabba · 4 years ago

Text

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

#wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #teen!reader #daughter!reader #dark!wanda #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #Wanda vision

279 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

you were beautiful

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: amnesia!au, dancer!minho, receptionist!reader who can’t remember him

warnings: mentions of an accident

synopsis: There isn’t much you remember from your old life, but you know someone is missing. When he comes to find you, you have to decide how many memories of the past are worth bringing back.

a/n: lmao please give my fic a chance, i promise it’s worth a read

word count: 7.5k

Deja vu.

For the longest time, Minho hadn’t understood what the word really meant despite all of Seungmin’s attempts to explain the concept to him. He just didn’t know how something could be so familiar and yet foreign at the same time, could feel like the past despite being the present, and he definitely didn’t believe that he’d ever be able to feel it for himself.

But on a sunny Monday afternoon, being dragged to the hospital by Felix, Minho understands. He feels, and he stumbles onto his friends in front of him.

“Minho hyung, are you okay?” Changbin asks, seeing the look on the dancer’s face. He absolutely would be pushing him back, if it wasn’t for the stricken expression that currently resides on Minho’s face “Hyung?”

“It’s her,” Minho breathes out, his eyes scanning the front of the hospital for the all-too-familiar smile that he’s sure he saw. Felix exchanges a glance with Chan behind his back as Minho bounds up the stairs, panting from the exertion it took to sprint across the courtyard. “It’s Y/N, I know it is--”

Felix frowns, “Y/N? Which one? I know there’s a receptionist working here who’s named Y/N, but...”

“No, you don’t understand,” Minho interrupts, whirling back to face the 3 others. If Jisung or Seungmin were there, Minho would’ve already been ripped to shreds, but Chan, Felix, and Changbin only stare at him worriedly. “My Y/N.”

It clicks in his friends’ minds, and Changbin surges forward to yank the hospital doors open. “It can’t be,” Chan insists, though he follows the other 3 inside. “Minho, Y/N broke up with you and said she was moving to England 2 years ago.”

Shaking his head, Felix sighs, “Okay, wait. Hyung, we have to go see Jisung, the others are waiting there for us. I promise we can go and look later, okay?”

Minho opens his mouth to protest, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hyunjin, probably, calling to make sure that they’re on their way to comfort Jisung about his broken leg. And Minho has never hated the squirrel-cheeked boy more as he sighs and nods, following the others to the reception desk that Felix claims is two halls down.

Of course, it isn’t. “I’m sorry,” the blonde boy sighs and takes his phone out. “I’ll call-- my friend. Hang on.”

He talks lowly over the phone, and Minho has to bite down, hard, on his own lip just to keep himself from running down the hall again. But soon enough, he hears Felix laughing, exchanging hello’s with someone, and he has to turn.

As soon as he does, the thing that he assumes to be deja vu hits him again, and Minho clutches his hand to his stomach. It’s you, in the flesh-- after all, no one would be able to replicate your smile so perfectly, and no one could possibly be able to mimic a face as perfect as yours. Your hair’s different than he remembers, but it’s been years, and--

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, shaking hands with Chan and Changbin before holding your hand out to him. “I’m Felix’s friend, the receptionist.”

“Uh,” Minho manages. Something about the look on his friends’ faces tells him no, that it isn’t the right time, but he can’t exactly stop himself. “Y/N, it’s me. Minho.”

Your smile is confused now, and your hand falters in the air. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Have we met?”

He frowns, stepping slightly forward, though not enough to alarm you. Felix looks panicked behind you, but he’s frozen in place as Minho says, “Don’t- don’t lie to me. Y/N--”

“I’m sorry,” Chan cuts in, stepping between you and Minho. “He... he had an ex, uh, with the same name. I guess you guys look alike too.”

You still look concerned, but you pass it off with a smile and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. Same name, same face? If she wasn’t your ex, I’d like to meet her.”

Changbin laughs for him, tugging Minho forward. “Yeah, it’s really funny. Uh, what room is Jisung in?”

With the prompt, you turn back to Felix and affectionately punch him in the arm before leading the way. Minho’s stomach twists with jealousy; after all, there’s no way two people who look and sound the exact same exist, especially with the same name, and he can’t shake the thought that you are the one he’s been trying to forget. But you make your way to Jisung’s room soon enough, and open the door for the 4 boys. “Here you are. Come get me if you need anything,” you smile, your eyes lingering on Minho for just a second before you leave. Maybe he imagines it.

“Yo, hyungs and Felix!”

Jisung shouts loud enough to distract Minho, and he turns to find the hospital room filled with his friends. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin are crowded onto one tiny sofa, while Changbin has started to annoy them. Felix and Chan crouch by Jisung’s side while he waves and grins at Minho. “You see what Hyunjin has done to me?”

“I did not,” the long-haired boy protests, a tangle of long limbs under Jeongin, who’s basically treating him as part of the couch. “You tried that stupid trick after Seungmin dared you, it’s not my fault.”

“Shut up, both of you, and hand me a pen,” Minho grumbles, sinking to a side beside Jisung’s elevated leg. To be honest, he wants some excuse to see you at the desk again, to listen to your voice and compare it to the one always echoing in his head, but he distracts himself. “I’m drawing a dick and you can’t stop me.”

“Chan hyung,” Jisung whines while he tries to kick Minho away with his good leg. The cast is bright pink, to Minho’s amusement, and it picks up the black of his marker well. “Minho hyung, I’ll never forgive you if you make me walk around with a dick on my leg.”

Minho snickers, “You can’t exactly walk.”

Chan sighs and shoves Minho, though it’s light. “Come on, stop bullying him.”

“I have to go to physical therapy, too,” Jisung pouts. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite all his bravado, Minho just signs his name near Jisung’s ankle, as messy and large as he can make it. “For how long?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/N’s going to come in and tell us, but I really want to go out and ask her.”

Excitement courses through Minho, and he stands up, the pen clattering to the linoleum floor besides his feet. “I can do it. I remember where the reception desk is.”

Felix looks concerned and he asks, “Are you sure you can... handle it? Hyung, I’m friends with Y/N, maybe I should go.”

Minho waves their concerns off, Seungmin leaning in to ask Changbin what happened outside. “I won’t embarrass you, Lix, at least not terribly. I’ll get Hannie’s results, and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of room 914, the warmth and light inside escapes, and the smell of alcohol burns Minho’s nose. In all his excitement, he had forgotten how much he hates hospitals, hates the way everyone inside only looks one step closer to death. But he peeks around a corner to where he remembers your desk to be and arranges a polite smile on his face as he approaches you. “Y/N?”

“That’s me, how may I--” You pause when you swivel around to him, but the smile reappears soon enough. “Minho, right? You’re done visiting Jisung this quickly?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckles. “Uh, I just heard from the others that they’re still waiting for his results? About how long he has to do physical therapy and stay here?”

You nod at that and pull your keyboard towards you. Gods, you’re so familiar-- the way your tongue pokes into your cheek as you type, the way you narrow your eyes despite being able to see the screen. Minho hates how much he remembers about you. It has to be you, he convinces himself, whether you’re lying about knowing him or not. “Ah. Well, hang on, the system’s a bit slow,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” Minho shrugs. It’s actually exactly what he wants-- time, for him to ask a few simple, nonimposing questions. “So, uh, when did you start working here? I’ve been here a couple times, never saw you.”

“I actually only transferred here last month,” you answer with a smile. “I used to work at the hospital downtown, Lixie met me there.”

“Lixie, huh?” Minho attempts at a smile, but you don’t know him well enough to see that it’s fake. “That’s cute. You guys are close? Did you help him there or something?”

You shake your head, typing something into the computer despite the loading screen. “No, actually, I was a patient at the time. I had amnesia,” you sigh, tapping your fingers on your chin.

Minho raises his eyebrows. His heartbeat is quickening-- depending on when you had amnesia, it’s a possible explanation for whatever’s happening. “Amnesia. That’s tough. Uh, how’d you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” you smile, turning back to him. “It was about two years ago, I think. I got in a car crash, but I got lucky. My cousin was with me, so the doctors knew my name and all my essential information. It would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t know who I was, you know?”

He opens his mouth to ask another question, but he feels an arm slide around his neck. It’s Hyunjin, apparently escaped from the confines of Jisung’s tiny room. “Hi, Y/N,” he greets. “Are we any closer to those results?”

“Just about,” you exhale, standing up. “They’re printing, I’ll go get those for you guys.”

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Hyunjin murmurs, “Chan hyung told me what’s up. So, you think it’s her?”

“I don’t think,” Minho hisses. “I know. She said she got in a car crash and had amnesia two years ago, and it matches up with why she doesn’t recognize me. She still knows her name because of her cousin, and- it’s her, Hyunjin. It has to be.”

Hyunjin hesitates, apparently not as convinced as the older boy. “But if she was with her cousin, wouldn’t she know about you? I mean, if it was me, I’d tell my cousin about the guy she just broke up with.”

Minho almost answers, but you’re back, sliding a file across the table. “Get that to Jisung, okay?” you grin, sitting back down. “And come find me if you need something else. Nice talking to you, Minho.”

Snatching the file away, the younger boy guides Minho back to the room. “Hey. If you really think it’s her,” Hyunjin says softly before opening the door again, “go for it. You still have the texts saved, don’t you? Show her. Even if you can’t help her remember, you’ll get your closure.”

Quietly, Minho shakes his head. “I- I can’t. Even if she never broke up with me-- which isn’t possible-- I can’t know that she’s still here, still alive, and that she’ll never remember me.”

Hyunjin reaches over to shake Minho and argues, “But she hasn’t changed. If she loved you once, she can love you again, okay? Just... just try. For yourself.”

Before he can debate Hyunjin again, Seungmin opens the door with a fake scowl. “Hey, what took you so long?”

“Asshole,” Minho frowns back, glad for something to argue about. Seungmin’s always the perfect one to bicker with, his eye rolls as he backs away to let the two boys in the perfect way to rile Minho up. “Hey, don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

For all of his friend’s glances at him, glances that he lets slip by as he ruffles Jisung’s hair rougher than necessary, Minho can admit to himself that he won’t approach you again, at least not for the purpose of finding out what truly happened. It’s difficult, but he can even admit to himself why he wont.

He’s scared. Terrified, even, that he’ll only find out what he knew all along.

You’re good with faces.

It’s kind of a requirement to be a receptionist; after all, nothing makes people happier than being remembered, even if it’s something as simple as being recognized without an introduction while arriving to physical therapy. Besides, after struggling to get back to your normal life for two years, your biggest fear is to lose your memories again.

So when Jisung gets driven to physical therapy a week after you meet his friends, you instantly recognize his driver.

“Minho,” you smile, waving at him. He flushes for some reason, and you stifle a chuckle at the tint of pink in his pale cheeks. He’s cute; your first meeting just put you off a bit. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t I get a greeting?” Jisung pouts, pushing through with his crutches. He’s joking, of course, so you only laugh fondly. “Well, you know why I’m here.”

You check him in with a nod, and call out after Minho, “You don’t have to stay with him for PT, you know. It’s going to be boring, you can come back out after helping him inside.”

Minho laughs, “Thanks for the tip. I’m definitely not staying with him, I’ll be right out.” Jisung’s protests follow them down the hall, and you return to your keyboard with a soft chuckle.

It’s true that after your first encounter with Minho, you wondered whether there was something about your life before the accident that Dahyun didn’t tell you. But your phone broke in the car wreck, and there must’ve been things that you didn’t tell your cousin.

However, in the back of your mind, you can still hear the way Minho said your name. ‘Y/N’, he had breathed, so desperately. You had to have been important to him, too important for you to have never told anyone about him, but when he comes out of Jisung’s room, you assume the role of the friendly receptionist once again.

“Hey,” you wave. “Just so you know, Jisung’s scheduled for a full hour. I’m clocking out for the day in a couple minutes, but you can have him text you when he’s done so you can pick him up. I have to get going, I need to eat before I get on the tram, and it’s a long walk from here.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, shuffling his feet. “You’re clocking out?” At your nod, he clears his throat and offers, “If you haven’t eaten yet, I can drive you to the tteokbokki place near the tram station? I can drop you off, I won’t stay with you if you aren’t comfortable.”

You laugh at his awkwardness, though he’s charismatic enough to make it simply cute. “That would be great, actually. Just give me a second.” While you’re gathering your things, Minho shuffles aside, staring outside to the parking lot as if it’s genuinely interesting, and you crack a smile when you approach him. “Hey. I’m good to go.”

“Let’s go, then,” he smiles, and opens the door for you. The more you see of him, the more familiar he feels-- it really is as if you’ve met him before. Even his car feels like you recognize it, the steady thrum of the engine and the feel of worn leather beneath your fingertips something that you can’t quite put your finger on. Minho doesn’t speak much, though he puts on some music that feels vaguely familiar to you, some boy rapping over a simple beat.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the station, and it barely takes a couple minutes to walk down to the tteokbokki place. For some reason, you feel comfortable around Minho, safe, like you’ve felt with Felix and all his friends that you’ve met so far. Maybe the Australian boy attracts all the good people, you smile to yourself, or maybe you do.

“I’ll pay, what do you want?” Minho offers and takes his wallet out. Though you move to protest, he smiles and holds up a hand, “I insist. You’ve had to deal with me this much already, it’s the least I can do. Besides, you’ll be seeing me a lot, with Jisung’s PT.”

You can only agree and watch him rattle off your order to the cashier. Minho’s smile is almost the same for everyone, his eyes curving and his teeth bright, but it’s the eyes that make the difference. It’s interesting. “Are you the only one of Jisung’s friends who can drive?”

“Ah, not really. The 00 liners and Jeongin don’t have their licenses, of course,” he hums and hands his credit card over. “But Channie is busy with work all the time, and Changbin feels like Jisung bullies him. So that leaves me.”

“I see,” you exhale, following him to an empty table. “You must make quite a bit to afford a car and a parking space. What do you do?”

“Me?” Minho clarifies, even though he’s the only one you could be talking to. “I’m a dancer. Mostly a backup dancer, but sometimes I teach classes or choreograph for idols. I don’t make that much, but I drive all over Seoul, so I thought a car would be a good investment.”

“Not a bad decision,” you smile. “Especially since you saved me the walk over here. You know that every time you drive Jisung over, I’ll be forcing you to give me a ride, right?”

You’re joking, of course; you barely know Minho. But something about your tone changes the glance in his eyes, and his grin fades the slightest bit. Suddenly, he moves towards his bag. “C- can I show you something?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “As long as it’s not... you know.”

“You’ve got jokes,” Minho mumbles, digging through the pockets for his phone. “I like that.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, slightly heightened by his frantic scrolling. You greet and thank the ahjussi who brings you your food, still waiting for him to show you. Before he does, though, Minho looks up with a hesitant expression. “Y/N. Whatever I say, you can’t be alarmed, okay?”

“I can’t make that promise,” you shake your head, “but I’ll do my best.”

He inhales-- then exhales. “Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You were born on _ _/ _ _/ _ _ _ _, and you were born here. You attended college at Seoul University, though you’ve probably forgotten your major. Your parents’ names are __ Y/L/N and __ Y/L/N, and your cousin is Kim Dahyun.”

Instantly, you bolt out of your seat, ready to run. “H-how do you know that?” Your voice shakes, and your eyes dart from Minho to the booth. He doesn’t look like a threat-- in fact, he looks pained, biting down on his lip before sliding his phone across the table. “What is that?”

“Just take a look.”

When you gingerly slide your eyes to the screen, you gasp; it displays what you assume to be an old photo of you-- and Minho. You remember Dahyun showing you pictures of yourself with that hairstyle-- high school, she said-- but you definitely don’t remember seeing any pictures with Minho. He’s unmistakable even in the uniform, and you’re laughing at him in a way that suggests what you’ve suspected since meeting him-- you were close, to say the least. “We were... friends?” you whisper, barely daring to meet his eyes. When he shakes his head, you lower your fist, previously held up to punch, and say softly, “We loved each other. Like that.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs, taking his phone back. “By the way, does the date 5/19 ring a bell to you?”

“It was the day I woke up,” you answer. Suddenly, your throat is too tight to swallow, and you take your place next to him cautiously. “They... they told me I’d never get my memories back that day. What does it mean to you?”

Minho bites his lip and hands you his phone again. “It was the day you broke up with me.”

"Lee Minho,” you read aloud, “we need to break up. Ouch, that does not sound like me.”

He winces but tries to play it off with a chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I had to read that.”

“We have dated for years, but we...”

You frown and shake your head, scrolling through the text again even though you’re sure that you didn’t miss anything. “The wording, the phrasing... it doesn’t sound like me.” But that’s you on the profile picture, the exact photo of you that Dahyun showed you to gain your trust that first day in the hospital. You raise your head to look at Minho, who’s still staring at you. “This is fucked up.”

“You’re telling me,” he sighs, plucking his phone away. “I tried to text you back after this, tried to call you, but you never picked up. I did all I could, but I watched you leave. So... I think you understand why I was so desperate when I saw you.”

“I think I do,” you say, with your voice soft. It makes sense, now, why Minho looked like he was seeing a ghost when he caught that first glimpse of your face. Because you were a ghost, at least to him, somehow back from the dead in the lobby of the tiny hospital you worked in. “They told me my phone was dead. That’s why I didn’t have any of my old contacts, or my information.”

Minho fills your silence. “And that’s why you never saw my texts, or heard my calls. I- I’m so sorry, that I blamed you at all.”

You catch his wrist and try to smile, “Hey, I don’t blame you for blaming me. It isn’t possible for me to have texted you this with a broken phone and no memories, so... whoever did text you was an asshole. You can blame them all you like.”

His eyes flick over your face, almost like he’s committing you to memory in case you become a ghost again. “Yeah.” But the alarm rings, ten minutes before the last tram home leaves, and Minho’s phone buzzes at the same time. “Um. Can... can we talk about this again? Next time I see you?”

“Of course,” you answer. Maybe you’ll regret that promise, but you know that you’ll regret it more if you never search for what actually happened. And the glow to Minho’s smile when you say ‘yes’ follows you all the way onto the tram, or more specifically, the look in his eyes.

You’d already noticed that Minho looked differently at different people. His gaze was fond at Jisung, sometimes annoyed, and his eyes crinkled in a polite smile in front of the booth workers or your fellow receptionists. You had just never been able to tell how he looked at you, because it was strange, an expression you didn’t recognize.

But staring at his newly-inputted contact on your phone, you realize what it is. Minho looks at you like he knows you inside out, like he loves you more than anything else in the world.

And you aren’t sure which is worse.

Felix isn’t a good liar; from the first time you met, and he told you that you didn’t look horrible in that grimy hospital gown of yours, you knew that he’d never be able to keep a secret. So when you don’t know how to move forward from the whole other side of yourself that you just uncovered, he has to be the first one you talk to.

“Y/N!” He shouts your name with his hands cupped around his mouth despite only being a couple feet away from you, and he plops down onto the stool next to you. “What’s up?”

“Felix, what has Minho told you about me? Or, about Y/N?” He tenses up at the question, and you can’t blame him; you usually aren’t so direct, and it must be difficult to tell you about his friend’s secrets.

But Felix bites his lip and sighs, looks up at the ceiling as if it’ll tell him what to do. “Um, well... he said you guys were classmates. High school and college, but you only started dating when you were 17. He never showed me pictures of you, so I assumed that you hurt him really bad.” You wince at that, but motion for the Australian boy to continue. “Minho hyung... he never dated while I’ve been friends with him. We all thought it was because he was never over you, and I guess he still isn’t.”

“Well, shit,” you sigh, sinking into your hands. “I feel horrible now.”

“Why?” Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He said that you didn’t think it was you who sent the text, and Dahyun just didn’t tell you about him? It’s not your fault.”

You only shake your head hopelessly and attempt to explain, “I didn’t want to get back into this. I trusted Dahyun to tell me everything, and after 2 years, I find out that I had a boyfriend? Who I ‘broke up with’, and who I hurt really bad. I have to know now, for Minho’s sake if not for mine.”

Felix sighs, “Look, Y/N, I’m sure Minho hyung will understand if you don’t want to get into it all again. He- he loved you, but I think he knows you aren’t who used to be. I think.”

“No, Felix- he never told me that he wanted me to find the answer,” you say quietly. “I just... I can see that he’ll never be able to disassociate me with the Y/N he knew. My face, my mannerisms- Dahyun says I act the same as I used to, and that’s too painful for him if we’ll never know the truth.”

He pauses, then passes you the coffee that a barista slides across the counter. Maybe Felix doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to tell you. But he murmurs in his familiar deep voice, “You’re kind, Y/N, but you have to think about yourself, okay? It’ll hurt Minho to not know, but it’ll hurt you to find out. And I don’t want to see either of you with a broken heart.”

The next time you see Minho, you find yourself analyzing every one of his movements, as if the tiniest hint of familiarity will bring your memories of him back to you.

You’re only drinking coffee together and trying to act like nothing else is between you, but you’re staring at his hands when he cracks his knuckles every so often. You wish that the way his lips curl into a smile was familiar, and you wish you recognized the way his eyelashes frame the brown of his eyes. But as much as you think you’ve seen something before, the fact remains that you barely know a single thing about Minho, while there’s nothing about you that you can hide from him.

It’s been years since you hated how little you remembered. Back when you first learned that the first twenty years of your life had been wasted, you screamed out for whatever all-seeing being to restore your life, and you had no idea if you could go back to the life you had been living with absolutely no memory of it.

Dahyun said she showed you everything. She brought you back to your family home, told you what she could about your parents, who hugged you with tears in their eyes. You stayed there at first, but you couldn’t handle the glances that your family made at you, couldn’t handle the way they still mourned the loss of their daughter.

You didn’t know enough about what used to be to miss it. But when you speak to Minho, you realize that there is something you would miss, something that you would want to chase. And so, you can’t know what it is.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asks, the smile still on his face from telling you about the cats you helped him pick out when he got his own place.

Shaking your head, you nod. “Yeah, sorry for zoning out. I’m just... thinking.”

“About what to do, right?” Minho takes your silence for agreement, and he turns to the window with a sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking too. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, I was selfish not to think how it would make you curious about your old self.”

“No,” you sigh. “I get it. You had to tell me, I imagine it’s still painful to see my face.”

Minho shakes his head, tilting his head as if that’ll let him see more of you. “No, it isn’t painful at all. I see you analyzing me, though, trying to recognize me.”

Heat rises to your ears, and you try to hide it by flicking your eyes away from his face. “Was I that obvious? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Minho.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. He cracks his knuckles again; you imagine that you used to put your hands over his to get him to stop, but you brush the thought away as fast as you can. “What do you want to do, though? It’s too difficult to stay away from each other in a town like this, especially when we have a mutual friend. But I’ll try my best to do what you want me to.”

You bite your lip and tap your hands on your knee. To be truthful, you’ve known what you wanted to do for a long time; you know exactly what you want to say, and you know who you want to say it to. “I want us to talk to Dahyun,” you answer. “I think... I can’t ask her about it. But I want to see how she reacts to seeing you.”

When he doesn’t respond, you almost move to touch his arm. “Minho? You can tell me if you don’t walk to talk to her, I won’t force you to do it.”

But he turns, tries to disguise the rueful smile on his face. He fails, of course, and you draw your hand back. “No, I... I’m sorry, that just reminded me of something. I’ll come with you.”

“Okay. I’m going to lunch with her tomorrow,” you explain, scrolling through the calendar on your phone, “and I think that’s the time. I’ll just say you’re my friend or something, and we’ll see how she reacts.”

Minho frowns, “Is it suspicious to randomly bring a friend to lunch with your cousin? Or do you do that often?”

You sigh at that and pause your scrolling to think. “No, you’re right. I think I’ll have to say you’re my boyfriend or something, then she’ll be excited to expect you.”

“Boyfriend? How do you know I’m not dating someone already?” Minho jokes. You laugh lightly and push his arm without thinking, but his smile only grows as he protests, “I’m serious! Do you not think I’d be dating someone by this time?”

“I see the way you look at me,” you chuckle, “If you were dating someone, I’d feel bad for them.”

Silence settles again, and you wince, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, should be me that’s sorry,” he mumbles, ruffling his hair. “I shouldn’t be making you uncomfortable, I know that you’re a different person at this point. Uh, could you send me the location of the restaurant? And the time?”

You recognize his attempt to change the subject, and you accept it gratefully. “Yeah. It’s noon tomorrow, but I think we should arrive together.”

“I’ll pick you up from the hospital,” he smiles, moving to crack his knuckles yet again.

Maybe it’s out of nervousness, maybe it’s just a habit, but you move to stop it this time, your hand resting gently over his. “Stop that,” you mumble to hide the heat in your cheeks. “I read somewhere that it hurts your knuckles. You’ll get arthritis.”

“You work in a hospital, you should know that that isn’t how it works,” Minho snickers, but he doesn’t move your hands off him. Strangely, this feels familiar, like you’ve done it before, like it’s always been comfortable. So you don’t move, only sip your coffee with your spare hand and try not to think about what could’ve been.

Minho opens the door for you yet again, bowing slightly when you pass through the doorway. “She’s here already, yeah?” His voice is soft when he speaks to you, and his hands in his pockets when he catches up to you again in the restaurant. He’s the picture of calmness, except for the way his eyes flick around the restaurant like he can recognize your cousin before you do. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

“She went to the same school as us, didn’t she?” you mumble, looking through your texts again for the table number Dahyun texted you. “She’s a year younger, she told me.”

“Yeah, but Dahyun hung out with us a lot,” Minho explains, “she was pretty cool. Funny, too, I don’t know if she’s showed you her eagle dance yet?”

You laugh at that, turning onto the stairs. “She has, actually. Made me laugh instead of cry. I appreciate that about her.”

Dahyun’s easy enough to recognize; her hair’s bright blue among a sea of dark-haired people seated at the tables, and she’s a good head shorter than the people who sit around her. You rush up from behind her and wrap your arms around her neck, almost putting the girl in a headlock. “Y/N,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she struggles against your grip. “Get off, I’m here to see your boy--”

Her smile instantly disappears when she sees Minho, but she rearranges it quick enough to bow to him. “Hi. I’m Kim Dahyun, Y/N’s cousin.”

So she wants to play like that. You give Dahyun another squeeze before sitting next to Minho on the other side of the table. “So, this is my boyfriend, Minho. What do you think?” you joke, keeping your tone as light as you can.

“He’s cute,” Dahyun answers. Usually, she’s good at keeping a hold of herself, but her voice sounds stifled this time, like she wants to lean over and punch him in the face or something. “I... Y/N, where’d you guys meet?”

Minho steps in to answer, “At where she works in the hospital. I keep dropping my friend off for PT, and I just keep seeing her.” That part’s true, at least, though you’re surprised at how charismatic and natural Minho seems while he lies. “She told me how she started working at the hospital downtown after being treated there, so I guess that’s how I never saw her before.”

Dahyun sighs, “Do you know what she was treated for?”

“Amnesia,” he frowns, “what else? Y/N told me that when we first met.”

A beat of silence passes, and you’re almost sure that Dahyun can see right through your lies, but your thoughts are cut off when she blurts out, “You’re lying, right? Minho, I don’t know if you’re lying to Y/N or if the both of you are lying to me, but you can’t be... you can’t be telling everything about this. She broke up with you years ago.”

“We all know that’s not true,” you say softly. Maybe there’s a hint of deadliness to your tone, though, because when you lean forward, Dahyun scoots back in her chair. “You told me my phone was dead on the day I woke up, the day that the texts were sent. How could I have sent those texts, from a shattered phone, without the contact that you wouldn’t tell me?”

The blue-haired girl presses her lips together, but she says, “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of here.”

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Minho shakes his head. “But we have to know. What happened here?”

Dahyun’s voice is almost too quiet to hear when she finally answers, “Minho, you would’ve been wrecked. And- letting her know that she would never be able to remember you... would’ve wrecked her more.”

You can’t keep your voice from getting louder when you ask, “So?” Minho squeezes your hand and you soften before saying again, “So? What did you do, Dahyun?”

“I texted him in place of you,” she blurts, clasping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes must reflect the hurt you feel, because you lash back when she reaches for you. “I... I never told you about Minho or any of your friends. I’m sorry, Y/N, I did what I thought was best, and all these years, I didn’t know... I didn’t know how I could fix that.”

Minho says nothing close to what you think he will, and he’s nowhere near as angry as you are. “I know why you did it, Dahyun,” he says. There are tears brimming in your cousin’s eyes, and you’re sure that Minho’s doing his best not to let them spill. “But- you knew me, knew Y/N. I don’t think you should’ve made that decision for us.”

“You definitely shouldn’t have,” you almost snap. You stand, tugging Minho up with you by his hand. “I... We have to go. I just need time to think, Dahyun.”

And if you were thinking rationally, you’d never leave like that. You’d never leave a conversation half-finished, with an angry end, but you can’t concentrate about anything other than the warmth of Minho’s hand in yours as you storm out of the restaurant.

Once you are hidden in an alleyway, he holds you by your elbows, as if he’s trying to stop you from running away. “Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me.”

When you do, you’re surprised at how blurry his face is, the shadows and highlights of his face swirled together in your tears. “We know now,” Minho continues. “I know you’re hurt right now, but I just want to say that you don’t have to know what to do now. You... we have time to think about what we can say about that information.”

“Stop,” you cry out, tearing your hands out of his grip to press them to your eyes. “Stop being so good to me. I know you only remember how much you loved the old me, and we have the same face, but we aren’t the same, Minho, you don’t love me. So- you don’t have to be so good to me just because you used to--”

He pulls you into a hug. It’s a bit aggressive, and you collide with him a little harder than you would in a normal hug, but against his chest, you can hear the sobs that he stifles in case anyone’s listening. “I’m not doing this because I used to love you, Y/N. I’m doing this because I think I can love you again.”

“That’s worse!” You push him away slightly, just enough to untangle yourself and your own heart. “Minho, that’s so much worse. You- you’ll never love me, you know. You’ll never stop seeing that Y/N in me. I just. I need to think.”

For the second time in that day, you end another conversation like you never would, but you keep your head down to hide the tear tracks on your face. There’s nothing you can say without hurting someone you seriously care about, no matter how much you wish you didn’t care about either of them.

You do. God, you do, and it hurts so much.

Jisung hobbles his own way into the lobby. He’s fast on his crutches, actually, and he almost doesn’t need you rushing to open the door for him. “Hey,” you smile, though you’re sure that your eyes are still puffy under your makeup. “Alone today?”

“Hyungs are all busy,” he pouts, though he obviously doesn’t really mind. “Y/N, have you checked your email recently?”

“Uh. No?” you answer, raising your eyebrows as you guide him down the hall. “Why? Did you send me something weird?”

He moves the crutch to smack the back of your leg, grinning even when you poke him as hard as you can without literally hurting him. “No. But there’s something in there I think you’ll want to see. I’ll see you in an hour, Y/N, hopefully.”

All of Jisung’s cryptic messages leave you scowling at the closed PT door, then frowning all the way back to your desk. You click fast through your inbox and ignore all the other messages for the one at the top, the one from [email protected], entitled ‘ywb’.

It’s a video message, and when you click on it, Jisung appears. “Hi, Y/N. I’ll keep this short,” he smiles through the screen. “But this message isn’t really from me. No matter what, I want you to watch the whole thing, can you promise me that?” You nod even though he’s in a whole different room, and he flashes a thumbs up like he can see it. “Cool. Enjoy, and try not to cry.”

The screen goes black, then flashes to a girl running through the snow. But she turns, and you gasp, because it’s you-- it’s a beanie and a scarf that you still own, sitting in your closet, but it’s a smile that you have only seen in pictures. And when you see the look in your eyes, you know who has to be behind the camera, and as much as you wish you wouldn’t, you’ve promised, and you keep watching.

Because every time that the outfit and the scene changes, your smile stays the same. You only see flashes of a hand, the peal of laughter under the soft music layered over, but you know. It has to be Minho, and you almost yearn to be the person in the videos again, grinning at him like there’s nothing else you can think of.

Slowly, he starts appearing in the video too, just flashes of the two of you singing at the top of your lungs in a karaoke booth, a short clip of you squirting him right in the face with a water gun. And the smile from the video makes its way onto your face, completely unconscious as you stare at the video.

Hours could’ve passed in minutes, and you wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t break from your trance until the screen goes dark again. But this time, Minho’s face appears, his features lit by a bright desk light in the darkness of his room. “Hi, Y/N,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Thank you for watching this far. Uh... I just wanted to show you those videos. Because I just deleted them.”

He hums for a second before continuing, “I realized you were right. As long as I hold on to who you used to be, I’ll never be able to truly love you right now, even though I really want to. You aren’t the same person as you were, and even though you might not think so, I want to know you right now.”

Minho’s eyes curve sweetly when he reaches for the camera and fiddles with it. He smiles, “So if you can believe me, I want to take those videos again, with you this time. I’m more than willing-- no, I want nothing more than to get to know you again. So just... call me. Whenever you see this. I don’t really trust Jisung to get this to you in time.”

You manage to laugh through the blurriness in your eyes, but you’re already moving to pick up your phone when the video ends, Minho’s hand the last thing you see on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” You can hear something in the background, probably the other people in his studio, but they get quieter as Minho talks. “I guess you watched it?”

“I watched it.” You save the video to the drive always plugged into the laptop, but there’s a small smile on your face as you imagine Minho staring into the mirror of the dance room as he talks to you. “How fast can you get here?”

“Uh. It takes 5 minutes to drive to you, so you can expect me in 10,” he answers. The smile on his face is audible, and your own grin grows when he covers the mic to shout at someone. “I won’t look gross, promise. But, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He ends the call before you can say anything in return, but you smile at the phone screen all the way until you poke your head around the corner to shout at Seulgi. “Hey! I’m clocking out in 10!” Maybe the grin in the video is familiar after all as you reach for your bag.

While you’ll never get your past back, there’s always the future. You will never get the perfectly fresh start you want, but it’s a start nonetheless. It’s the step towards something new that you’ve been needing, and it’s with the person that you never thought you’d find again.

281 notes · View notes

spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

Text

SO I didn’t sleep on it uwu because I cannot sleep uwu new OC new content lads my apologies

CW: Human trafficking (I think), dehumanization

***

The young prince stood in place among the other shackled young men, lined up to be evaluated, to have their chance at being sold to a powerful man, a king no less. The boy to the right of him could’ve been no older than eighteen, he stood there trembling with fear, a soft whimper escaping his throat. The man to the left of him seemed to be close to his age, he stood still and silent, a blank look in his eyes, his shoulders sagged. He was scared for them, he was scared for each and every one of them that would be subjected to this- every one of them except himself.

He stood up straight, kept his shoulders squared back and his eyes narrowed. He was one of the lucky few who had to be gagged for this event, a leather muzzle keeping his snarky comments locked inside and keeping him from biting anybody who got close enough. Despite the fact he was dressed in rags, shackled at the wrists and ankles, and muzzled like an animal, he still intended to carry himself as the prince he was, refusing to show a shred of submission to these people in hopes he’d keep himself sane long enough to escape.

They had been instructed beforehand on how to behave when the king entered the room, to keep quiet, keep their head down and their eyes on the floor unless spoken to, and he chose to ignore the second rule. He stared straight ahead, not sparing a glance at the king as he spoke to the sellers, it sounded as though he was a frequent customer of theirs. It disgusted him more than anything, and he was sure that showed on his face. He sure hoped it did anyway.

He was towards the middle of the line, waiting patiently as the king took his time looking over the other men, occasionally making comments out loud about features he liked or outright saying that one simply “wouldn’t do”. It was only a matter of time before the king reached him, and they locked eyes right away, it was all he could do to show him he wasn’t scared of him. The man was older than him, not by much but definitely older, and there seemed to be a hint of amusement in his cold blue eyes. It only lasted a moment however, in one quick motion the king suddenly backhanded him, his head snapping to the side and the sound of the slap seeming to be the loudest thing in the room.

“Mind your manners, pet, and keep your head down.” He warned him, before simply moving on to the next man, leaving the prince to stand there seething in anger, his hands clenched into fists. He considered himself lucky that he didn’t show much interest in him, but he was still so angry over being treated this way, over the blatant disrespect he’d been given a lot lately. Were it not for the muzzle he would’ve sworn at him, it was probably best for his own safety that he’d been silenced. For now, he obeyed the ridiculous rule, keeping his head down and letting his long dark hair fall to hide his face, to hide the fury in his eyes.

The king took his time with the rest of them, considering his options carefully it seemed. He didn’t particularly care, he just wanted this to be over with, listening to his footsteps as he made his way back down the line, this time certain of who he was after. The prince’s blood ran cold when he stopped in front of him, grabbing his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to face him.

“Tell me about this one, please?” The king said politely to one of the sellers, who hurried over to do as he was told.

“Well, your majesty, this would be Prince Kassian, of the Reyedal kingdom.” He explained, and he swore he saw the king’s eyes light up at that.

“Yes of course, the little prince.” He said, and Kassian glared at him, roughly jerking away from his grasp.

“He’s a fighter, as you can see. He swears and he bites without that muzzle, honestly he’s a bit of a nuisance.” The man said, exasperated, and he felt a small sense of pride knowing he’d made his life even slightly more difficult.

“Oh, I can train that out of him.” He said, catching Kassian’s attention as he added, “I do like a challenge, he’ll do perfectly.” He said, sparing a brief glance at the prince if only to revel in the way his eyes widened, for a moment that bravery and defiance shattered as he realized exactly what was going to happen to him from here.

As the two men discussed payment, speaking about the prince as though he were simply an object, he stood there numbly, the realization still sinking in. He’d already had his title, his status and his freedom stripped away as though it were nothing, as though he were nothing, reduced to simply being a product to be sold, a product that was being bought by a king who seemed all too eager to break him down. He didn’t spend too long letting the despair sink in however, by the time the two had come to an agreement he’d made a decision of his own.

He knew then and there, he wasn’t going to let this man break him- he knew then and there, he would die before he let that happen.

#oops new Oc’s #whump #my writing #my oc’s #Kassian #unnamed whumper #for now

90 notes · View notes

anon-e-miss · 3 years ago

Note

Who was the other mech watching Prowl's place?

Prowl watched from the window and watched the black car drive away. Though it could have been nothing to do with him, he doubted it. He hid the dataslug in his subspace. It seemed likely that the safe house was being monitored. As he looked from the window, Prowl identified three likely surveillance bots. Would Flatfoot come for him, or would he summon Prowl? Whichever it proved to be Prowl thought it was unlikely that he would just be left be. His cover, as it had been, was blown. He could not return to the club. Even if his next heat was six quartexes away, provided he had not kindled, if Jazz spotted him he would surely usher him out. The club was for Alphas and Betas only.

As he waited Prowl wondered how he might escape the surveillance bots. He needed to get to his hotel, to get his suppressants and to take back some control. Prowl shivered everything had spiralled well out of his control. It seemed on the surface that his best bet would be to return to Praxus but he suspected Flatfoot would report his duplicity to his commanders. Flatfoot had all the cards. That mech was a scheming worm; he would not play them carelessly.

“Enforcers open up!” Someone hammered on the door and Prowl jerked back with surprise. He had not seen anyone come down the street, unless they had come down an alley. Prowl was intensely irritated. Flatfoot could have commed him, or sent handlers to knock... politely.

Prowl opened the door, the nanoklik he did, the enforcers slammed him against the wall and put stasis cuffs on him. He was shocked. This was not what he had expected to happen. Maybe he should have taken a transport to his hotel, cover be damned, as if that would not have been monitored as well. He was afraid and he hated it. Prowl did not resist the enforcers. They loomed over him, an intimidation tactic he knew alphas used to put recalcitrant omegas in their place. He did not bow to them.

He was loaded onto a transport and taken to the precinct. Wearing his disguise, there was nothing especially peculiar about him being unloaded from the enforcer transport. Had he been in his traditional armour, with his enforcer insignia on display, it would have attracted attention. Not that the attention would have helped Prowl. Battle computer revving as he tried to find some way out of this mess, Prowl kept his helm down. The enforcers shoved him into an interrogation room and left there to stew. He was not made to stew long. Flatfoot appeared with members of the paramilitary enforcer unit. Prowl did not shrink when the Praefectus of Iacon’s enforcers looked him up and down, trying, no doubt, to find some sight of what Prowl had been hiding for vorns.

“Strip him,” Flatfoot ordered. Prowl jerked back but there was nothing he could do to stop the other enforcers from peeling every last shred of armour from Prowl’s frame. The alphas leered over him, scenting and Prowl was suddenly terrified. He did not shrink. He refused to be meek. “Bring the medic in.”

“Hmmf,” one of the enforcers grumbled and the goons stalked away. The door slid open and shut and Prowl was left alone with his commander.

“You left your post,” Flatfoot said as he circled Prowl, taking in every corner of the frame Prowl had hidden well. He grabbed Prowl’s left well by his nozzle and lifted the heavy component and stared at the trail of bitemarks and discoloured dents.

“Get your servos off of me,” Prowl said. He may have been an omega but Flatfoot did not have some intrinsic right to touch him. “He was done with me. He sent me home.”

“What?” Flatfoot scowled. “Why didn’t you present? No pink energoned alpha is going to turn up a wet hole.”

“He was bored of me,” Prowl ground out. It may not even been a lie. He had not acted like he had any possessed any lingering interest in Prowl. Jazz had neither taken his spark nor bitten a claim into his neck. “As you can see, he did not claim me.”

“Hmmf,” Flatfoot snorted. The door opened and a reedy mech with medic insignias stepped in. “The omega just came out of a heat. I need you to do a pull exam, Oil Slick.”

“Get zim on the table,” the medic said in an odd accent. “Cuff hiz legz to ze legz.”

“No!” Prowl snapped. Flatfoot’s goons lifted Prowl up as he thrashed. His struggles hardly hampered them as they secured his arms above his helm to the desk. They circled around him and Prowl kicked the first in the face. The crunch was satisfying. “I do not consent to any exam.”

“Since you are an enforcer under my command, I claim protection over you since you have no kin in Iacon do take responsibility. Get him secured. Primus damned fools.”

In precious little time, Prowl found himself restrained with his ankles each cuffed to a different table leg. Oil Slick sat between his tense thighs. Flatfoot stood behind him, looking at Prowl’s bared array. He had never been more mortified in his life. Prowl clenched his denta to keep from grunting or whining as the medic first did an external exam and then inserted a speculum to do an internal. It was intensely violating, more violating that Crosscut, more of the same? He stared up at the ceiling and refused to react as Oil Slick inserted a scope and propped his internal node and biolights. When he widened the speculum, Prowl winced at the uncompromising stretch.

“Ya can zee the valve haz a second degree ptosis,” Oil Slick explained as he tugged Prowl’s valve lips as they drooped. “There’s no straining of the internal calipers to widen with the speculum fully extended. That suggests the alpha in question haz a large knot and used it often.”

“No damage?” Flatfoot asked.

“Of course not!” Oil Slick said. “Omegas in heat are made to take knot. The gestation tank was penetrated. Some transfluids are leaking out the dock, the seal will take an orn or more to reform. Still, the tank is nearly at capacity. I’ll take samples.”

“Stop!” Prowl ordered.

The alphas ignored him as Oil Slick inserted a long swab in into Prowl’s valve and took a sample of a the leaking transfluid. He took more samples, of Prowl internal lubrication, before he pushed a swab through Prowl’s dock to collect samples from the transfluid being processed in there. Oil Slick pressed down on Prowl’s lower belly and Prowl groaned as he forced transfluids to escape from his internal dock. They leaked from his valve and made a puddle under his aft.

“The transfluids have already been largely processed of their energy,” Oil Slick observed as he studied the fluids. “I will exam ze spark.”

“No!” Prowl shouted. “Stop touching me. I do not consent.”

“Quiet,” Flatfoot ordered.

Oil Slick forced a diagnostic cable into Prowl’s neck and forced his spark chamber to spiral open. The invasions would not end and Prowl bit his lower lip to keep from sobbing as the medic touched his spark. This was a living memory purge. He could do nothing, his glyphs meant nothing. After his physical exam of Prowl’s spark, Oil Slick brought out probes and took samples of Prowl’s spark energies. Prowl’s cheekplates felt wet, he realized his was crying silently.

“Zee spark is bloated,” Oil Slick said. “Expected from an active heat. There’s no signs of spark merging but the alpha did manage to kindle a protospark in him.”

“I need a baffle!” Prowl exclaimed.

“Absolutely not,” Flatfoot said. “The Maestro won’t allow a mech gravid with his creation rust in the streets. He may have bored him but he’ll want to claim his progeny, it’s an alpha’s instinct after all.”

“I am not going back there,” Prowl said. “I am not going to prostitute myself for your investigation. I am not a whore.”

“You will,” Flatfoot replied. “You’re going to get me what I need to get that botnapper in a cell. I don’t care if you have to suck his spike to earn your energon, or if he passes your afthole around to his regulars. You’re going to get me what I need. In return, when the investigation is complete you’ll return to Praxus, with no one the wiser of your deceit.”

“What?”

“You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” Flatfoot said. “You don’t want your illustrious career in Praxus ruined, do you?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll get me what I want.”

#valveplug #maccadams #a/b/o dynamics #tf prowl #tf jazz #tw medical exam #tf noncon #anon asks ficlet #anon fic ask #long fic #enforcer corruption

39 notes · View notes

jordanstrophe · 4 years ago

Text

This One is Mine, part 6

The Dinner, part 1

CW: Whump, Pet whump, Abuse referenced, Anxiety

Previous masterlist Next

“He is so cute!” Mia exclaimed, having Michael twirl in his new clothes. He obeyed of course, without complaint. “You like them? We can get you more if you like.” Charles chuckled. “N-no sir! I really like these. It feels really nice to have my own clothes I can pick from! Thank you.” Michael politely bowed.

He was used to only wearing whatever Malcolm had thrown at him in the mornings. Sometimes it would be an over-the-top outfit to show him off, and sometimes it was just a pair of jeans. He already knew what would happen that day if he was given the jeans, as it was something Malcolm didn’t mind getting torn and bloody. If he was dressed nicely, that meant nothing bone breaking or shredding would happen that day. Even though the outfits were uncomfortable, it still felt safe. As safe as he could feel.

But these were different. His new master spared no expense, and got him clothes that were nice, and comfortable. It was an odd feeling, like he could just relax and feel safe, but that usually wasn’t the case, he learned the hard way.

“Lets get these clothes up to your room and unpacked, alright?” Charles smiled.

“M-my room? What room?” He asked, looking up at him with a tilted head.

“The room you’re going to stay in.” Charles chuckled. “There’s a guest room upstairs I think you’ll like. Bonus point is it’s just a couple doors away from the master bedroom, so if you need anything at night, I’m just right there.” He smiled

“I... I don’t understand. I get a room? Why?” He asked, almost panicked.

“Of course you get a room! Where did you think you were going to sleep?” He asked.

“.. Under the coffee table..” He muttered. “Under th-..” Charles repeated in a stutter. Did he think he went through the trouble of bringing him home to just throw him under a coffee table and sing “home sweet home”? He was treated so badly he expected it all the time now. The spike of anger in his chest only fueled how much he wanted to care for him. When he brought him home, it was in a last second call out of a protective instinct. He didn’t think he would even have time to properly take care of him, but for some reason, that's all he wanted to do.

“Come on sweetheart, why don’t we go check out your room, then.” Charles smiled. He hoisted up the last of the bags in his arm.

“W-wait! Let me carry those, it’s the least I can do!” He cried. Charles hesitated a second, despite the bags draped around his arm, he still made his best attempt to ruffle Michaels hair, who held his head down in response.

“As kind as that is, I know you’re still hurt. Let me do this for now, okay?” He smiled. Michael jolted with reaction. “N-no! I’m fine! I’m okay! Really!” He cried. “That’s great if you feel that way, but I still sent for a private doctor, he’ll be here tomorrow.” Charles smiled. “What?!” He cried. He did lie with the first sentence. His back hurt when he moved, and his arms were sore and weak, the slices down his legs burned, and his ankle was sprained. But he trained himself to walk normally. No... He didn’t train that, Malcolm did.

Miles seemed to appear whenever anything was going on, as he swooped up half the bags off Charles’s arm. “Hey!” Charles complained, as Miles giggled. “I’m helping you, these are mine!” He chuckled. “But I had it.” He pouted. “Jeez Charles, let me do my job.” Miles mocked. “I gave you one job Miles! And that’s please don’t let anyone kill me.” He laughed. “And that’s what I’m doing, what if you fall down the stairs because you carried all these bags?” He complained.

The two men joked and bickered amongst themselves, but Michael was still upset. He had been given what felt like the entire world, but he hadn’t earned it with the only thing he could give. Blood and tears.

“I’m useless.” He muttered under his breath. He didn’t mean to say it, but it came out quiet enough surely no one heard. Right?

Charles immediately whipped around “Here, this one is a bit heavy for me, do you think you can get it?” Charles smiled. It was the lightest one he could find in the pile. Michael perked up, he joyfully took the bag, it was light enough it didn’t cause him any pain. “O-of course!” He said happily. He wondered why Charles struggled with it’s additional weight, knowing he was a pretty fit guy. He was truly an oblivious soul.

He wanted to swing the bag around, but thought against it, and behaved himself as he followed Charles up the stairs. Miles opened up a wooden door, and set his half of the bags down inside. Charles did the same, then beckoned Michael into the room. He would be lying if he was a bit scared of what could be in there. Despite the fact he would be getting an entire room, it could still be filled with shackles, cages, whips, and... Wait is that a bed?

There was a large light cream bed against the far wall, with golden details threaded into it in beautiful patterns. There were lace wispy white curtains that framing a window that lit up the room with a soft gleam. Small potted plants sat at it’s sill, with a tiny watering can. The floor had a light cream carpet covering the half center, the rest of the floor was a dark wooden floor, the same color as the drawers and mirror.

“It’s not too much, it was the guest room, so it just has the basics, but I had Liam and Mia throw some decorations around. You can change things around later, but it’s yours now, if you like it.” He smiled.

“I can’t take this.” He muttered. He stared at the soft carpet at his feet. Tears formed in his eyes, and streaked down his face. “It’s t-t-o much... I can’t take this.” He sobbed. He clutched his arms and fell forward as tears fell to the floor. He felt gentle comforting arms wrap around him from behind, and cradle him. He cried, and cried.

He should be overjoyed, instead he was overwhelmed. He was plucked from hell, and plopped into heaven. It was all too good to be real. “Do you remember what I promised you?” Charles whispered in his ear.

“Y-you promised you would t-take care of me...” He sobbed. Charles pulled him over to sit him on the bed. They practically sunk into the plush soft bed.

“I’ve hardly done enough for you, all I’ve done is give you clothes, food and a bed. Let me take care of you.” He pulled him into a deeper hug, as he sobbed into his chest. He brushed a hand in his hair and gave him a moment, before quietly shushing him, wiping his tears, and placing a hand on his cheek. “Will you let me take care of you?” He asked.

“Y-yes sir!” He cried, as Michael wrapped his arms around Charles neck, and hugged him. For the first time, he started to feel safe. Charles couldn’t stop grinning as he hugged him back.

“Alright now, why don’t you start unpacking. You can put them wherever you want. There’s something I have to do, but I’ll be back in a moment.” He smiled. He wiped away the rest of his tears, as he gave a quiet “mmhm” in response. It was all he could really muster.

Charles left him to his task, and headed down the stairs. His hands shook a bit, and he crossed his arms to hold them still.

“Sir!” Mia called. She was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“I see you uh... You added something to your schedule tonight.” She said with a concerned tone. Charles silently nodded.

“Dinner with Malcolm, here, at six.” She reminded.

“I need a favor from you.” He gave her a sad look. “Michael is a bit more comfortable with Miles, but I need him at the dinner tonight. Do you think you can get close to Michael, and keep him distracted during the dinner?” He asked. “Oh Charles... That boy is going to be scared to death...” She sighed. “No, he’s not going to know he's here.” He responded. “What? How are you going to pull that off?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not, you are.” He gave her a shy smile. “I’m not getting paid enough for this... Fine, I’ll do my best.” She sighed. “You are the best.” He complimented, before leaving her to it.

“Liam! Did you hear about the dinner tonight?” He called.

“Unfortunately.” Liam growled, aggressively hacking at dripping raw meat.

“For no reason in particular, what’s his least favorite meal?” Liam asked.

“Joy and happiness, probably. Just a basic meal is probably safe.”

“Me? Basic? Do you know me?” Liam smirked.

“Fair enough...” Charles muttered.

He was going to show up in two hours, and was most likely staying for as long. He said he had “important” papers to discuss and a deal, but he knew the real reason. And he was determined to disappoint him. He climbed the staircase, and walked up just as Mia was leaving Michaels room. “He’s getting tired. He might be able to sleep through the whole thing if he’s lucky.” She said, quietly shutting the door behind her. “That would be perfect, thanks Mia.” He said, as she nodded.

He opened the door, Michael and Mia had already hung up all the clothes, and he was sitting at a desk in front of the window staring out. He perked up and gave Charles a sweet excited smile as he walked in.

“Hey sweetheart.” He smiled back. Michael stood up and looked at him expectantly. “I know it’s a bit early, but why don’t you get caught up on some sleep. I’ll have Liam bring you up something to eat later, but the schedule got thrown off today, so dinner isn’t going to be very formal tonight. We’ll have a proper dinner tomorrow, I promise.” He smiled.

Michael had noticed his tone was off, but he nodded in response. Charles pulled back the covers to the bed, and Michael climbed in. He sunk into the center, and hugged a fluffy white pillow before looking up at him. Charles tucked him in, and placed a hand on his forehead as he closed his eyes. He seemed like he had a small fever, but he had a doctor coming to see him tomorrow, so he tried to not worry.

“Doing okay? Are you comfortable?” He asked. “It’s unreal.” He whispered back. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes. Charles smiled, and did some finishing touches to the blankets.

“Stay here for me tonight, I’ll come check on you later.” He smiled, before closing the blinds to the window, and shut off the light.

BANG BANG BANG

Someone hammered at the door. Miles opened it, to reveal Malcolm, purple suit, top hat, arms crossed, evil grin flashing across his face. He had driven up in a limousine of all things. He had his own bodyguard standing behind him, a towering man with a suit and sunglasses, who looked like he was purely made out of muscle.

“We have a doorbell, you know?” Miles shrugged. “Is that anyway to greet your honored guest?!” He hissed. They awkwardly looked at each other, before Malcolm took a deep breath and smoothed out his hair. He clearly still had a bone to pick with Miles after they’re last encounter.

“Of course mister Morfran, please come in.” He stood back and allowed him to enter. His eyes immediately shot around the house wildly.

“Looking for something?” Charles asked. He approached with his arms crossed behind his back.

“Yeah! Is that table new?” He asked, nodding towards the coffee table.

“No, that’s been sitting there for thirteen years. I trust your trip down here was fine?” He asked.

“Oh it was dreadful! We had to pass a town, and it looked awful! They have these things called drive-throughs, can you imagine not sitting down at a five star restaurant?” He said, repulsed.

“No, no I can’t possibly imagine that.” He smiled.

“So! Old friend, how’s thing going? Eh?” He gave his usual toothy grin.

“Things are going lovely! Thank you. Come on now.” He nodded towards the dining room. Malcolm took off his hat and carelessly tossed it at the man with him, who caught it effortlessly.

“How’s a certain someone?” He flashed a grin, still scanning every room as he followed down the long hallway.

“Mia is doing great! She’s a lovely secretary.” Charles smiled.

Malcolm let out a low growl, before he could get anything else out, Charles flung the door open, revealing a beautiful decorated dining room. A long table sat in the center, with a red cloth covering it, with a loose white woven detailed cloth sat over it. Candles were lit, and the chandelier shone bright, the room had a warm yellow glow to it.

Malcolm grumpily took his place at the end, while Charles took his on the other. Liam walked in pushing a large silver container, and unpacked large amounts of food onto the table.

“Charles? You got your first Pet and you’re not showing him off? I like to dress mine in fancy outfits and have them serve drinks. Really shows off their obedience!” He complained.

“That’s not quite my style.” Charles shrugged.

“Is that so? I haven’t found a new favorite yet, by the way. I’ve been searching, and training, and digging through my endless supply, but none of them are good enough!” He yelled, slamming a knife hilt shaking and clattering the whole table. Liam annoyingly cleared his throat, as he tried to set food onto the table.

“Liam! I’m glad you’re still busy, I always loved your cooking. You always cook and season everything perfectly.” Malcolm complimented. Liam tried not to look uncomfortable, as he pulled out a large roasted turkey.

“My thanks, mister Morfran.” He bowed politely.

“My offer still stands if you want to leave this place and come work for meeee!” He sang, aggressively stabbing a fork into a turkey slice.

“As much as that honors me, I’ll have to pass.” Liam smiled.

‘Ahh, pish posh.” Malcolm waved his hand in disappointment, before viciously tearing into the turkey. "I'll give you another chance to return Michael." He added through a mouthful.

“Malcolm, are you here to talk business, or to poach my entire household?” Charles raised a brow and took a sip of a drink Liam had poured.

“Well it was worth a shot. Yeah, I got something for you right here.” He snapped his fingers twice, as his guard approached Charles. Miles stepped between the two, and stared the man down. The guard pulled a file from his coat, and handed it to Miles, without breaking eye contact. He plucked the file from the man’s hands and passed it to Charles behind him, still refusing to break the contest. Despite the man being a foot taller than him, he wasn’t going to back down in his own house.

Charles opened the file and took a moment to read. He slapped closed the file and slammed it into the table. “What is this!?’’ He asked angrily.

“That’s a deal for a removal on the covert rule.” He smirked.

“What’s your plan here Malcolm?! The covert rule is what’s keeping this business safe! If we get loud with our work it will attract attention! Do you want the government to start looking for us?” Charles growled.

“They’re already looking for us, they just don’t know where to look.” He smirked. “That’s exactly what the covert rule is doing for us!” He crossed his arms.

“Well I’m pitching that we stop silently living in the shadows, and get loud! Think of it as expanding the business! We can worm spies into the government and have people cover our tracks. Hah! Think about it, one day I might be able to walk my Pets out in public on a leash, and no one will bat an eye!” He laughed.

Charles slammed both hands on the table and stood. “This will never pass! There’s no way you’ll get everyone's vote! You’d be a fool to think you have mine!” He shouted. His voice could get scary when he was angry. He had that deep voice that could be either soothing, or booming.

“You’re vote? No no no, I already have three votes on my side! I just need a few more. Barron is swaying, sure, but I’ll get him to crack. I always do!” He hissed.

Charles stayed silent, and quietly sat back down.

“It’s not a bad thing, old buddy, really. It will hardly change things for you. You work quietly, manipulating this and that with a phone call, or a click of a button. Me? Oh no no. I have to get out there and do dirty work. If someone gets caught, I’m the one who cleans up they’re mess. I’m the one who keeps the witnesses out of court. I’m the one keeping everything quiet!” He stated, shoving one past piece of turkey in this mouth. He stood up and lifted his drink with him, as he slowly walked around the table.

“If we got ourselves out there, and did our work publicly, people would fear us. We would run this town. We would run the world!” All we need is everyone’s support, and combine our companies, no one could stop us. No one would try. But don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t need you. As nice as it would be to have you by my side, I can do just as well with the rest of the companies.”

Miles tapped Charles shoulder, who looked like he could murder someone.

“Malcolm’s bodyguard slipped out the door.” Miles whispered to him.

“What? When?” He whispered back.

Before he had a chance to reply, loud beeping blared through the house, as all the men jumped. Smoak could be seen seeping through the cracks of the door from the kitchen.

“Shoot!” Miles yelled. He opened the door, as smoke and heat shot out.

“Kitchen is on fire!” He called, as Charles jumped to his feet.

“Fire department?” Miles asked.

“No! We can’t risk anyone investigating this place.” Charles said, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the door. “You! Don’t go anywhere!” He called to Malcolm, who shrugged innocently. An evil grin spread across his face, as he swirled his drink in his hand, and enjoyed the show. when they seemed distracted, he slipped out the door.

“I’m coming baby...”

Tag list: @lave-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster @grizzlie70

Thank you for reading! <3

#Whump incoming #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #caretaking #creepy caretaker #whump stories #whump writing #Michael is going to have a rough time next part #rescued whumpee #hurt comfort

21 notes · View notes

softlass27 · 4 years ago

Note

❛❛ C’mere. Lean on me. ❜❜ (robron AU, one of them gets hurt)

Hope you like it, Amy!

ao3 link here

Sometimes Robert forgets that he is married to a very stubborn man.

It’s easy to forget because Aaron’s a lot more open and easygoing these days, compared to how he was in the early days of their relationship. More willing to show vulnerability than he used to be.

He still has his moments, though.

Like on the football pitch.

The Woolpack football team reformed about six months ago, and actually – shockingly – they’re pretty good this time around. Now that they’ve got rid of some dead weight (Paddy, the team is too polite to say, even if Robert isn’t), recruited a couple of new players and actually had time to practice together, they’re less like a group of clumsy kids having a kickabout and more like an actual team. They’ve even started winning matches.

Matty is now a force to be reckoned with, his nimble feet making him perfect for stealing the ball from opposing players; Ellis and Billy are so in sync they practically move together as one unstoppable force; David is surprisingly good at tackles, even if he does whine like a baby every time he falls over; and Vinny is… well he’s not the best goalkeeper in the world (or even the Dales), but what he lacks in natural talent he makes up for in enthusiasm.

The star player – in Robert’s entirely unbiased opinion – is Aaron. Look, Robert’s not exactly an expert in football, but from where he’s standing (on the side of a cold, muddy field until he can’t feel his toes), Aaron scores the most goals, executes the most successful tackles, has the most energy… Robert’s earned bragging rights, okay?

So there he’s stood one chilly Saturday morning in March, like the supportive husband he is, watching Aaron and his team. Well, he’s half watching, half chatting shit with Dawn while keeping an eye on Seb and Lucas playing together.

Seb is easily Aaron’s biggest cheerleader, in awe of his dad every time he sees him play. Last month, Robert couldn’t resist surprising Seb with a tiny version of the team’s strip for him to wear to every match, and he doesn’t know who was more delighted by it, his husband or his son.

But it’s just past the 70th minute now, there’s only so long a four year-old’s attention span can last. Robert can’t say he blames him; to be honest, he’s counting down the minutes until the final whistle blows and they can all head to the warm pub for a full English.

If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he wouldn’t have missed the brutal tackle that sends Aaron flying. One second Robert’s absently checking his phone, the next he hears the unmistakable sound of his husband’s loud yell, and he whips his head up to see Aaron sprawled on the grass, his face scrunched up in agony as he grips his left ankle.

Billy and Ellis are already shouting to the ref and charging towards a player on the opposing team, who holds his hands up and loudly protests his innocence. The team checks Aaron over; Robert can hear them telling Aaron to sit out the rest of the match but he’s shaking his head and insisting that he’s good to keep going.

Robert feels a tug on his on jeans and looks down to see Seb clutching his leg worriedly. “Is Daddy okay?” His bottom lip’s already wobbling, so Robert quickly lifts him up and gives him a squeeze.

“Daddy’s fine, he just took a bit of a tumble,” he says in his best reassuring voice, despite the fact that he’s more than a little worried himself. “He’s already getting back up, see?”

Matty’s helping Aaron to his feet and he manages to stay standing, though Robert can see him wince and wobble as soon as he puts weight on his injured leg. He spots Robert and Seb staring at him and gives them both a smile and a thumbs up, before waving off his teammates’ concerns and lining up to take a free kick.

This is enough to calm Seb, who wriggles impatiently in Robert’s arms until he lets him back down and goes back to playing with Lucas. Robert, on the other hand, isn’t quite so convinced by Aaron’s supposed recovery.

He watches as Aaron continues to play for the remainder of the match, his face twisting as he tries to run without putting too much strain on his left leg. It’s only a few more minutes, but time seems to stretch out as Aaron becomes slower and slower, the clearly-increasing pain becoming more evident in his movements.

“Just stop, you idiot,” Robert mutters under his breath. Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t make a difference.

To say Robert’s relieved when the ref finally blows the whistle is an understatement. If the match had gone on much longer, he would have barrelled onto the pitch and dragged Aaron off himself.

The Woolpack’s team have won 2-1, so they’re in a jubilant mood, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders and slapping each other’s backs as they come off the pitch.

“Back to the Woolpack then, lads?” Vinny cries, to which they all cheer in agreement like it’s the best idea they’ve ever heard. Robert doesn’t know why they’re so excited; they always go to the Woolpack after a match, whether they win or lose.

Aaron walks – well, hobbles – over to Seb and swings him up into the air.

“You won again!” Seb crows happily.

“Course we did, we’re the best aren’t we?” Aaron grins and tips Seb back in his arms until he’s nearly upside down – a move that never fails to make him screech with delight.

Robert runs a hand through Aaron’s sweaty hair. “You’re not going to the pub, are you?”

Aaron puts Seb down and grabs Robert’s arm as he straightens up. Robert doesn’t miss the grimace on his face, the way his weight shifts to the side of his uninjured leg.

“Yeah, course I am. Team tradition, innit?”

“But your leg, you need to rest it.”

“Don’t fuss, my leg’s fine.”

“It is not fine.”

“It’s just a twinge, I can barely feel it,” Aaron replies with all the gusto of an idiotic footballer who’s just had a big win and wants to get hammered with his mates.

“You’re practically using me as a crutch right now,” Robert points out.

“No, I’m just… touching you. Normally.”

Robert blinks and tries very hard not to scream in frustration. He is literally the only thing holding Aaron up right now.

“Right, so you won’t mind if I just – ” He quickly steps away so Aaron loses his grip and tilts sideways, gritting his teeth when his weight lands on his injured foot. He reaches out for Robert quickly.

“Okay okay, fine, you've made your point, get back here.”

Robert rolls his eyes and returns to Aaron’s side, lets him lean against his chest and rest his head on his shoulder. He can feel Aaron letting out harsh, controlled breaths against his neck.

“On a scale of one to ten, how sore are you right now?”

“Like… four?”

“So that’s a seven, then.” All that gets him is an annoyed grunt and a soft headbutt in return.

“Sorry lads,” Robert calls out to the group. “I’m taking this one home, get some ice on his dodgy leg. You’ll have to have your piss-up without him this time.”

They whine and groan like they’re all half their ages, but agree readily enough, Matty coming over to pat Aaron on the back and tell he he hopes he feels better soon.

As the rest of the team troops off towards their respective cars, Robert pulls Aaron’s left arm around his shoulder. “C’mere. Lean on me.”

They set off at a slow pace, ambling towards the car while Seb zigzags about in front of them, kicking his miniature football that he brings to every match.

“You should’ve just stopped when the prick tackled you. You’ve probably made your leg worse now, you idiot.”

“Oi, I’m injured here, you wanna try being a little nicer to me?”

“Oh, now he admits it,” Robert grumbles and grips Aaron’s wrist a little tighter. “I’m just saying, you’re not exactly 21 anymore.”

“Rich coming from you, old man.” Aaron snorts.

They continue in silence until they reach the car, twin expressions of irritation on their faces.

Robert helps Aaron into the passenger’s seat, then goes to buckle Seb into his booster seat in the back. He spots one of Seb’s pillows (they keep it in there for when he needs to nap during long car journeys) and brings it to the front, tucking it under Aaron’s foot.

“Here, that might help until we get home,” he mutters, slamming Aaron’s door and heading for the driver’s seat before he can reply.

They pull out onto the main road and set off in the direction of Emmerdale, Robert driving as carefully as he can in an attempt to avoid jostling Aaron’s leg. It doesn’t take Aaron long to notice what he’s doing, and he reaches over to run his thumb over Robert’s wrist. A silent apology for snapping.

“Sorry you couldn’t go to the pub with the others,” Robert offers, only feeling a little bit bad.

“S’okay, think I’d rather hang out with you two anyway.”

Robert doesn’t know if he entirely believes that, knows how much Aaron loves hanging out with his teammates – especially on the high of winning a match – but he appreciates the gesture.

Aaron glances back to Seb, who’s happily tearing the little collection of daisies that he’d picked into shreds (Gonna have to give the backseat another hoover tomorrow, Robert thinks with a wince).

“What d’you say, mate – us three putting our feet up, big bowl of popcorn and a How to Train Your Dragon marathon?”

“Dragons!” Seb yells, throwing the remnants of his daisy petals in the air.

Dragons are Seb’s newest favourite thing, quickly overtaking dinosaurs in his estimations (“Because dragons are like dinosaurs ‘cept they can breathe fire, Daddy,” he’d explained matter-of-factly. Robert couldn’t really fault his logic).

Aaron laughs and turns to Robert.

“So?”

Robert grins without taking his eyes from the road.

“Dragons it is.”

#my writing #robron

42 notes · View notes

devil-dxrling · 4 years ago

Text

SBR getting political, No.5

Pairing: Funny Valentine x Reader

Warnings: Loss, Smut

Words:

Summary: They finally get together for real this time.

Nightmares had haunted me that night. One mistake and everything would go to shreds. The morning of the trial dawned apon us slowly. I knew when I woke up that today I would wear the most simple thing I had ever worn. I wore an elaborate laced, vintage blouse; a simple, tan-coloured, pleated skirt; a pair of opaque, black tights, and a pair of Edwardian style, black and red, leather boots. Before walking out of the motel room, I put on my black, flat brimmed hat and walked to Dea. Off to court we go. My guns were holstered by my garters underneath my skirt, I could feel the leather as if it was second skin. After skipping breakfast, I began to ride down to the high court of Washington. It was a few blocks away from the White House.

I wasn’t late, but most of the people were already present. Looking around, I saw Valentine beckoning me over to a secret location in a small area next to the courtroom.

‘How are darling?’

‘I’m good, but I’m scared. I love you so much and I don’t even know if I still want to go against you.’

‘Let everything settle down, and everything will get better. One of the people I know has brought out the judge, don’t ask how I know, but I do. No-matter what happens from here, SBR is going to happen. And I want to hire you myself, I need you to get me the rib cage. The run starts in San Diego and ends here, in Washington. Though the race starts in San Diego, you can start here in Washington, taking a shortcut to the rib cage and getting it before the others do. You will be paid handsomely, and you’ll get my gratitude.’

I looked up at him with pleading eyes, we both knew it was too late. When we heard the judge enter, he kissed my forehead before we both parted ways to go to the trial.

Time fell by during the trial, I didn’t bother listening, I knew the result, but I kept wondering about Valentine’s proposal. How could I ever turn him down? Once the trial was over and the verdict was given, chaos broke out. Shots were fired, things were almost set alight, a stampede began to break out. I was pulled to the side by one of the president’s guards and told to scram to my horse and get ready for later today where I would get a letter inviting me somewhere. And a letter did come. The letter came with a fancy box accompanying it.

In the box was a floor-length, silk, scarlet-red, cowl neckline dress with spaghetti straps that dropped into a low back. There was a slit on the right leg that went up to just above my mid-thigh. Did he want me to wear this? It came with a pair of matte-black, red-bottom heels. Then I opened the letter to read it.

‘I'm hosting an event tonight as a celebration and meetup between me and some of my friends. The affair is to start at 6 PM, and the dinner party will last until 8. Then some people will leave and the party will begin. Music, drinks, and much more. Arrive at 8 on my horse and leave it with one of my guards. Bring your guns for safety, since you are technically a criminal and a danger to society. I’ll see you there, enjoy your ride.

-Funny Valentine’

What kind of ride was this guy talking about? The ride there was slow and quite uncomfortable. I had to sit in a certain way so as to not flash the people on the street, and I had to be careful and not fall off the horse because of my heels. Luckily, I got there safely enough, even though I did

trip when I got off the horse. I entered the house and walked through the swarms of people, going to his office, hoping he would be there. Knocking on the door and patiently waiting, I heard someone mumble a deep ‘come in’. His head was rested on his tackle and his arms were placed over the nape of his neck. Was he okay? Something must have gone wrong during his dinner date with all of those officials, or as he called them, ‘friends’.

Walking up to him, I moved his limbs off the desk and climbed onto his lap, lifting his chin up so he could look me in the eye. Then I remembered something and climbed off his lap, running to the door, locking it, and shutting off the light. I ran back over to him, kicking my heels off in the process. While lifting my leg to straddle him, I grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted it up, when I sat down, I whispered in his ear, ‘Time to get serious.’ His hands slid up my dress, moving the material around. His left hand slipped into one of his desk’s drawers as he leaned in forward. It turned out he grabbed a pair of scissors. My reflexes led me to grab one of my pistols and point them up at his head. Then I saw what he intended to do with the scissors. Tracing the scissors over my tanned skin, he took the fabric of the dress and started to cut into it. His cutting was so graceful, maybe because the silk was thin enough for him to cut it with ease. In the spurr of the moment, I got a phenomenal idea. Instead of pointing the gun at his head, I moved it down to his crotch, lightly pressing down. My gaze shifted up to the ceiling as my gun did the work.

His face twitched at one point as his left hand snapped down, grabbed the gun and through it across the room. I followed suit and threw away his scissors. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed my dress and ripped it apart with his pure strength. Once again, I tried to do what he did, but ripping his shirt apart was harder than I thought it was. Getting mad, I weakly slammed my fists against his chest and leaned in. I heard a chuckle above me as he lifted me off of his chest and unbuttoned his shirt for me. He did it slowly, teasingly, tantalizingly. When his shirt was off, my hands traced down his toned chest and down his v-line.

He lifted me off of his lap and placed me down onto his desk, shoving aside all of his paperwork. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, slipping them down to his ankles; even his thighs were toned as fuck. Pushing my shoulder down so my back would be against the desk and my head would be falling off the desk, I could feel his hand sliding up and down my thighs as his fingers nimbly slipped into my underwear. He began to rub around in all the right places before completely removing the annoying piece of clothing and getting the full access he needed. He leaned over to pull me into a kiss, or first kiss of the night, and then got back up to slip off his boxers. Proceeding to shove a few fingers in my mouth, he coated them in my saliva and then moved them across his long hard. I didn’t have the strength to keep my head up so at one point I just let my head fall back and let him do his own thing. I moaned out his name as I felt him slip into me. Slowly, he steadied himself and went deeper, taking care to not hurt me in any way. Giving me ample time to adjust, he rested his hands down onto the table and let me grab his hair. It started out slow, but it got faster, and better, and more pleasurable as the minutes flew by. Beads of sweat were dripping down our foreheads as he kept pounding into me. Still to this day I don’t know how he managed to mercilessly pound into me with so much care and affection. It felt like the night had just begun when we finished. He might have cummed about 3 times that night, but I lost count, so it might have been more. Thinking back, I might have fallen asleep on his desk because I woke up in a strange bed that morning. It was warm, and smelled fresh, unlike the room we fucked in last night.

Then I remembered something.

TODAY WAS THE STEEL BALL RUN!

#funny valentine #jojos bizarre adventure #smut #x reader #romance #sbr

16 notes · View notes

ficsnroses · 5 years ago

Text

Let It Go II - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Here it is! By popular request, a second part to Let It Go. This *may* be read as a stand alone on it’s own, however, I recommend you read both parts to get the full feel. Find part 1 here! I hope this meets everyone’s expectations. Enjoy :)

Word Count : 2996

Warnings : Lots of angst, lots of fluff. Some swearing, and very minor sexual reference.

Requested : No

Summary / Prompt : Reader and Keanu see each other for the first time in 10 months, following their *heart wrenching* split.

You’ve tried to completely repress that night from your memory. Tried to drown it, refusing to feel the absolute, sheer agony and torment ever again.

You refused to think of him holding onto you, muttering sweet, heart wrenching nothings into your ears every now and then, begging you to reconsider your decision. You refused to remember the warm, saltiness of his tears as you kissed them away, hoping they would stop once you inevitably left. You refused to remember how his hands never let go of yours the entire night, hoping that if he held long enough, placing soft kisses on your knuckles, kissing your palms, your wrists, holding them close to his face, that you would change your mind. You refused to remember the feeling of his trembling figure send vibrations through your entire body, as you rocked each other, grasping, feeling each other’s skin close into the early hours of the morning when the sun would rise again, signaling the end of an era. The end of you and Keanu.

Once you had got up, finally letting go of each other, it was as if everything had changed right that second. Despite spending the entire night together, wrapped in each others arms, holding on as if your entire being depended on it, the morning had brought complete contradiction. You remember quietly packing your bags as he stood in the door way, looking down, refusing to see the reality of the situation. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you leaving. His already fragile heart couldn’t take it. He trailed behind you as you walked down the hallway of your shared house, the foundation of it built on memories of your time together. Pictures hung on the walls of you two, showcasing your love. Neither of you were able to look their way anymore.

As you gripped the handle of your suitcase, the gaping hole in your heart grew bigger as you noticed his lack of eye contact. Keanu had always been a man of little words, and they became even more scarce when he was hurting. Who better to know that than you? You had helped him through all the pain and sorrow he ever felt in your 7 years together, you had been his perfect remedy each and every time. But you couldn’t be there for him this time. You wanted so desperately to rush into his chest, grip his delicate face in your hands and kiss him, telling him everything was going to be okay as you ran your fingers through his hair.

But you couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

You were both silent, at a loss for words. What was there even left to say? As you stepped foot out the door, you turned to look at Keanu once more. Perhaps, one last time. He was still looking down, avoiding eye contact. But when he did look up, you saw perhaps the worst form of pain to your heart you ever had felt.

You’ve tried long and hard to forget his face in that moment your eyes locked. His eyes were red, as were yours. They were pleading. They spoke a million words. You had saw your entire world in those same, earthy hued eyes for the last 7 years. Those beautiful sienna tinted, almost married with a hint of honey droplets eyes of his were once your favourite sight. Just the thought of them could send butterflies flying in a haze through your mind. But now, that once comforting thought of his beautiful, warm, brown eyes had been replaced with the pair of eyes you saw that dreadful morning. They haunted you now. They reminded you of what you lost.

Everything came crashing down that night, and it quite literally changed your entire life. You didn’t realize it at the time, but your relationship with Keanu had been the most prominent part of your life for the 7 years you spent together. The 7 years you spent smitten with each other, being each other’s lifelines. You left a lot of your stuff at the house you shared. You never really discussed it, but it was just his house now. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back to collect the rest of your belongings. You didn’t think you could face him again.

You had bought your own tiny apartment in the city and tried to carry on with your life, but heart break is hard. You can never really describe it, unless you’ve felt it for yourself. It’s easy for people to tell you to “suck it up” or “move on”. But how are you supposed to move on, when you feel you left a big piece of yourself somewhere else? That’s exactly how you felt in the last 10 months. Heartbreak burns you constantly; it doesn’t just go away when you love someone as much as you loved Keanu. It burns and burns, eats away at you, sending daggers, piercing, cutting away at you.

You continued to work your 9-5 job, and spent most of your weekends alone in the security of your home, although you begged to differ that you could call it home. It was just an apartment, a place you stayed. Your home in your mind was still the house you shared with Keanu. You felt like you had been away from home for the last 10 months. Your friends had managed to get to you to come out every now and then for an evening out, perhaps at the movies or a casual dinner out, catching up. You appreciated them for trying to keep you sane. But they saw how broken the last 10 months had left you. You didn’t enjoy much anymore.

You almost felt like your spirit and soul had died, and you were just dragging around lifeless weight of a body with you.

They had tried to bring up the idea of you dating again many times. They were just trying to help, but you hated the mere thought of dating anyone else. Perhaps it was temporary, and maybe you would be ready to give yourself to someone again in the future. Maybe a year from today, maybe 5. You didn’t know, because right now, in this moment, it felt like you could never love or let anyone love you like Keanu. He was still plastered over your mind, he lived in every part of you still. You couldn’t give that up just yet, despite the fact that you let him go. You let him go because you wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. You prayed every day that he had come to understand that.

After work on a customary Friday, you had promised your friends to join them at a house warming party for a mutual friend. You had been dreading it for the entire week, but deep down inside you agreed that maybe, it would be nice to go out on a Friday evening and surround yourself with people you like and appreciate. Of course, a glass or two of red shared with good company wouldn’t hurt.

It felt like the shadow of Keanu followed you through everything you did. As you scanned your closet looking for a suitable outfit to wear, memories came flooding back. A heart wrenching memory associated with each and every piece in your closet. How long would life go on like this? You had allowed yourself a span of a few months to “get over” him, however, till this day, it was like a part of him was stuck, bound to you, unable to let go.

Opting for a modest, long sleeve black dress and some block heeled ankle boots, you examined the look in your mirror. A loose thread on the fabric of the shoulder caught your eye. That’s when it hit you, another painful memory reminiscing in your mind.

~~~~

“Gosh baby, you look fucking amazing. I love this dress on you.” Keanu smiled into your neck. He had walked up behind you while you put the finishing touches on your makeup, scanning yourself in your vanity mirror. Of course, he had snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

With your back to his chest, you had moved to rest your hand on top of his hand that was securely holding your waist.

“Thank you, babe. Are you ready to go?” You asked him, blushing at the way he was showing just how affected he was by you.

“Hmmmm, I’d rather we stay here, so I can properly show you just how beautiful you look tonight.” Keanu cooed into your ear. You felt him smirk against the skin of your neck, as he left a sloppy, wet kiss just behind your ear. He nipped at the skin of your neck, almost leaving a few marks. He moved his lips over the fabric of your clothed shoulder, leaving a kiss, accidentally pulling a thread out with his teeth.

“As much as I would love to, we’re getting late! Keanu, let go of me.” You laughed, soothingly rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “also, control yourself before you rip my entire dress to shreds.” you smiled, pointing to the loose thread.

“Couldn’t help myself, darling”. He pressed another kiss to the back of your head. “I love you.” He said, staring right into your eyes through the mirror. You blushed, a grin carving through your face in response.

~~~~

Feeling numb, you grabbed your purse and left for the night.

******

With a wine glass in hand, you mingled with a few acquaintances. Reaching over to grab another cherry tomato to pop into your mouth, you felt proud of yourself for being able to come out tonight. And to be honest, you were having a good time. It was a good way to get your mind out of its usual somber state.

However, perhaps you had spoke too soon. In the flash of a second, your eyes found the most familiar pair known to you. They locked, unable to look away.

You felt silly for a moment. You should have known that he’d be here. Keanu and you shared mutual friends, both staying in contact with them after your separation. He was bound to be here; you should have known better.

His eyes looked the same as they had looked that morning you left. You weren’t able to face him yet, not now, not here. With the sound of a light clink, you set your glass down and politely excused yourself. You needed to get out of there. You didn’t think twice before heading to the balcony of the house for some fresh air.

********

“Y/N?” Keanu’s voice filled your ears. He had obviously followed you to the balcony, he had been dying to see you for the past 10 months, even just for the slightest moment. But he was too much of a gentleman to follow you around, searching for you or trying to track you down. He knew you wanted space, and he respected that. But tonight, you were there, and so was he, in the same place at the same time. He made a mental note to thank the sky for giving him this moment.

“Hey..” you said lowly, unable to make eye contact.

“How’ve you been?” Keanu asked, his voice also quiet. The tension in the air felt awkward. It hurt you both to acknowledge that.

“I’ve been okay. You?” You asked back, politely. Keanu shifted so he was now standing beside you as you looked down at your shoes, hands fiddling together. He could tell you were tense. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms, hold you tight, and soothingly run his fingers through your hair. But he knew he couldn’t. He kept his distance, respecting your space and boundaries.

Keanu bit his lip, hesitant to talk again. He sighed, looked away into the dark distance of the night for a few moments. “Can we talk?” he questioned.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes right that second. You didn’t want to think about that night you went your separate ways. It killed you to even remember. There was no way you could talk to him about it, and what was the point? It would just be salt to old wounds.

You couldn’t reply. It was as if your voice lost itself in your throat, making camp in the lump that formed.

“Y/N…I..” Keanu started. He chuckled slightly, but the pain in his voice was still just as prominent. “It took me a while to get a hold of myself. I tried so hard for you, Y/N, I really did. But seeing you here today, after so long…I…” his voice choked in his throat.

“Y/N I haven’t took a single fucking breath of ease in these last 10 months without you. How much more can I want you?” his voice was drowned in sorrow.

A tear spilled out of your eye, moving past your lips, and falling to the pavement floor. If you thought the last 10 months were painful, this was perhaps worse in every possible way. He was right there, in front of you. But you couldn’t bury yourself in his chest like you wanted to. You couldn’t trail kisses over his entire face, telling him everything was going to be okay.

You finally brought your eyes up to meet his. He had bags under his eyes, he looked restless. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, and you could tell. You knew him like the back of your hand. His beard had gotten scruffy and you could tell he hadn’t been trimming it.

Keanu shoved his hands into his pockets and chuckled slightly, his eyes beginning to water as well.

“Look how cruel time has been to us. Look at you, Y/N. You’re hurting, and I’m ruined. I’m fucking ruined.” He almost whispered the last part, looking down, tears rolling down his cheeks now as well.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I’m so drained, so fucking tired.” He ran his hand through his rugged, un tamed hair.

“I can’t even go home. I can’t bring myself to sit in that house without you. It haunts me every fucking time, your clothes still in our wardrobe, your novels and CDs still in our library, I didn’t have the heart to even take down the pictures of us. I can’t even fucking look their way, Y/N.” his voice was raspy. It killed you to see him like this.

He finally reached for your hand, unable to hold himself back anymore. “Come home baby, please. I need you, I can’t be without you, and I know you can’t be without me. Who are we lying to?” he whispered, staring at your hands intertwined. He was pleading.

You both instinctively walked closer to each other, he brought your hands up to his lips, kissing them delicately. “Please, baby. I promise we’ll figure this shit out, together, okay? I can’t stay away from you longer Y/N, I don’t have it in me.” You felt his tears roll onto the skin of your hands as he kissed them.

You couldn’t say anything. You just cried, you were crying your heart out at this point. Keanu seemed to be doing the same, both unable to control your sobs in the silent evening breeze. It was triggering you, the remembrance of that dreadful night 10 months ago creeping back into your mind. The memories of all the fights, the arguments, the times you spent the night in separate rooms because you were upset with each other also came flooding back. You couldn’t put yourselves through that again, you knew that. It hurt too much the first time.

“Keanu, we can’t and you know that.” You stated firmly.

“Why Y/N? We love each other, isn’t that enough? I can’t be happy with anyone other than you. If you can look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you’ll be able to move on and find someone other than me, I’ll let you go Y/N. I’ll let you go right now, and I’ll never bother you again. I love you so much, and I promise I’ll never keep you from being happy. Just tell me right now that you’ll be happier with someone other than me so I can force myself to move on. I just need to hear it once.” His voice killed you.

You couldn’t do it. How could you tell the love of your life that you could ever be happier with anyone else?

“Keanu, please. I can’t go through this again. We can’t do this. Let me go.” You spoke, still crying. Keanu didn’t budge however, he held you even tighter and pulled you into his chest, burying his face in the croak of your neck. He was holding on for dear life. You couldn’t bring yourself to move either. You craved his touch more than anything in these last 10 months.

“I can’t.” Keanu cried in a low whisper.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes it felt like. You holding him, him holding you. It was as if the world went silent for a second, and stopped for just the perfect amount of time where you both could indulge in each other once again.

“Keanu..” you exhaled a breathy, weary sigh as you tried you pull yourself away from him. Once you managed to fully untangle yourself from him, your eyes locked again. His were restless, pleading silently, yours were filled with melancholy regret.

“I...I have to go, Keanu.” You wiped away your tears, swallowed, and began to walk away back into the house. Keanu was left standing there, feeling completely hopeless, all alone once again. He balled his left hand into a fist, and felt warm tears flood his mahogany eyes once again.

Read part 3 here!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves fluff #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick oneshot #john wick x you #john wick fluff #john wick fanfic

174 notes · View notes

zombie-snape · 5 years ago

Text

Here’s my half of a fic swap I did with my wonderful co-writer and gf.

@trekmemes asked for Newt and Anathema getting lost in the woods and the Them finding them.

“Anathema...I think we might be lost.” Newt called as he spun in circles in the middle of a cluster of trees.

“No! We are not!” Anathema said back. She was sitting on a stump, a map spread across her lap.

Anathema had wanted to go mushroom hunting in the Hogback woods and Newt was hoping for a romantic stroll through the woods with his girlfriend. But now they were horribly lost, no matter what Anathema said differently. Newt sighed and flopped onto the ground next to Anathema’s stump. He pulled out his phone to check the service but there was still none. The whole wood was a dead zone.

Adam and the rest of the Them were waiting in the Jasmine Cottage front garden. They had been invited over for afternoon tea with Anathema and Newt but neither person was home. They were very late.

Brian sighed heavily while he sat shredding grass. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“Well, actually. The note on the door said they are mushroom hunting in the woods.” Wensley said.

“Afternoon tea time is now. They didn’t say anything about having it in the woods.” Adam said.

“Maybe they got lost?” Pepper offered.

That perked everyone up.

“Do you think?” Brian asked brightly.

“If they were…” Adam had the gleam in his eye that said adventure was around the corner. “We’d have to go save them.”

“Yeah!” Pepper cheered.

“Don’t all those survival shows say to stay where you are if you get lost?” Newt said as Anathema led them through the woods.

“Hogback isn’t that big, we’ll end up in town eventually.” Anathema said confidently.

Newt made a face, “the Antichrist played in these woods, how do we know Adam didn’t make it bigger somehow?”

Anathema rolled her eyes, “I would know if he’d done something like that. I could sense it.”

“You could?” Newt asked doubtfully. He might be dating a witch and helped to stop the apocalypse but he was still very skeptical about magic. It didn’t help that Anathema enjoyed making up powers to mess with him, like saying she could control geese and that’s why they always chased him.

“Yes! Now come along.”

Adam and his gang were armed with various people rescuing items as they entered the Hogback woods. Wensley had some snacks packed away and Pepper had a first aid kit. Brian was bringing along a large stick in case of wild animals (they wouldn’t see anything more vicious than a squirrel but they could pretend) and Adam had Dog, who was tasked with sniffing out Anathema and Newt.

“Do you think they got hurt?” Brian asked (he asked it with a little more enthusiasm than what was polite when talking about potentially injured persons).

“That’s why I brought the first aid kit!” Pepper said.

“Or they’re snogging.” Brian said.

There was a chorus of “ews” in reply. They were all scarred from the time they saw Anathema and Newt kissing on the bench in the front garden of Jasmine Cottage.

“I think they probably just got lost.” Wensley said.

“Yeah. Stop talking about snogging.” Said Adam and the Them all went silent after that.

“AGHhhh!!” Newt yelled. His foot had caught a tree root and he tumbled to the ground.

“Newt!” Anathema hurried over to help him back up. “Are you okay? You need to watch where you’re going!”

“Ouch.” Newt whined. He went to put pressure on the foot the had caught the root and winced, “ouch.” He repeated.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just hurts.” He limped forward a bit.

Anathema sighed. “Let’s just sit down for a bit and rest.”

Newt flopped down onto a fallen tree in relief.

“Oh! Look at this!” Brian called.

The Them clustered around a bush that Brian was standing by. He was pointing at a bit of fabric caught in the branches.

“You think it’s a clue?” Wensley asked Adam.

“Yeah.” Adam picked the piece of fabric off the bush and held it down for Dog to sniff. “Go find them!” Adam told Dog.

Dog sniffed the fabric and wagged his tail wildly. He yipped loudly then put his nose to the ground and took off through the woods.

“Come on!” Adam yelled and the group of kids raced after Dog.

“Do you hear something?” Anathema asked suddenly, causing Newt to jerk awake.

“Huh? What?” Newt blinked stupidly at her.

“It sounds like a dog barking.” She paused for a moment before her face lit up in realization. “Dog! Dog!” She called loudly.

A little black and white dog shot out of the trees and ran towards them. Anathema beamed as she bent to pet Dog.

“Good boy! Did you find us all by yourself? Clever boy.” She said while scratching behind his ears.

A moment later the Them burst through the trees and rushed towards the couple.

“We found you!” Brian cheered.

“Are you hurt?” Pepper asked.

“Do you need any snacks?” Wensley asked.

“Good dog.” Adam said giving Dog a few pats.

“Newt fell and hurt is ankle but otherwise we’re fine.” Anathema told them. Pepper immediately hurried over to take a look at Newt’s ankle despite his protests that he was fine.“Did you all come looking for us?”

Adam nodded, “you were late for afternoon tea.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Anathema said.

“It’s alright. It was fun looking for you.” Adam reassured her. “You know you aren’t very far from your cottage, right?”

“We aren’t?”

“Yeah, I think you were going in circles the whole time.”

“Oh fuck.” Anathema muttered under her breath as Newt yelled, “what!!” loudly from his spot on the log.

I’m still doing prompts! I currently have two waiting. I took a break last week for depression reasons but I’m feeling better this week. I’m also working on the last chapter of Won’t You be My Neighbor!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens rec #good omens fanfiction rec #good omens fanfic rec #good omens fic rec #the them #Adam Young #wensleydale #brian #pepper #anathema device #newton pulsifer #anathema/newt #fanfiction prompt #trekmemes #my writing

14 notes · View notes

masosade · 5 years ago

Text

Maso’s Escape

Warnings: Contains mentions of torture, lots of blood, mentions of vomit and, obviously, violence

x-x

"Rise and shine! It's another beautiful day to get tortured, you useless bag of shit~" Alice sang as she entered into the dark, musty chamber, which smelled worse every time, she felt.

Unlike her prisoner, she was refreshed and well rested after a peaceful night in cuddling with her sweetheart. It was the first day back in the Grimdark Office after her stay ('VACATION' as Birch insisted stubbornly) at Morayne's Office, which sat quiet and undisturbed most of the time and Alice was ready to return back to business, to start anew with fresh motivation, and that meant taking out the trash first.

She kicked the limp form sitting in its chair to wake it. Its four arms were shackled to the tattered armrests and its feet, bare and bruised despite not having moved in the last months, were bound tightly to the chair's legs.

The figure reacted slowly, first flexing its hands and then lifting its head up at her, like it had just been woken from a nap. Which it wasnt — Alice had made sure Maso had been unable to sleep ever since she caught him.

Sure she could’ve just let Melissa torment him with his own personal nightmares, but nothing felt quite as bad as not being able to sleep. For months.

Any sane human would’ve broken down at that alone. But Alice prided herself in creativity when it came to cruelty, so depriving Maso of his sleep was just one in many tactics she used to utterly break his spirit.

She grabbed a handful of Maso's hair and yanked it back, forcing him to squint up at her.

"Didnt you hear my greeting?" She sneered. "It’s only polite to return it."

His eyes were unfocused, confused, bloodshot. Dark rings circled his lids both where his eyes were and where he used to have an extra pair, which had been self inflicted mutilation. He was a sad, mismatched mutation of two Stanleys brutally fused together under the name of science, and now this pitiful body only housed a broken soul. He was doomed to die alone in misery and Alice couldnt be more pleased.

Pleased because, no matter what he endured, she had suffered far worse at the hands of the god he sacrificed her to back in spring. No matter how he hurt, he had inflicted more pain on both her and her loved one. There was no room for sympathy in Alice’s eyes.

Maso’s gaze finally focused and instead of the look of fear Alice was expected, he simply grinned. It stretched slowly from one side to another, like syrup pooling reluctantly out of its glass.

"Heyyy," he croaked hoarsely. By now his vocal chords had endured torment of its own with his screams and incessant rambles followed by weeks of silence. It was awful to listen to, he sounded like rusty hinges grating on sand.

Alice's glee disappeared and she dropped his head, wiping her hand on her dress in disgust.

"What are you smiling at?" She snapped.

"Eevvvery time I look at you," Maso began, but stopped. He straightened up and flexed his hands again.

"...every time, I think about how funny it was to watch you get your ass kicked by Cipher." He finished, grinning. Impishly. A sure fire way to get Alice pissed and she would’ve smacked him across the mouth earlier, but something had distracted her.

"Whats wrong with your hand?"

"Aww, dont you remember? You cut off four of my fingers last month."

"Yes. Last month.” Alice took one of Maso's hands and pulled it up to examine it closer.

Maso's smile widened, but she didnt notice.

"It’s bleeding. It hasnt scabbed or infected or even healed in any way." The blood oozing out of the dismemembered digits wasn’t black or tainted, it didn’t even smell bad. Even if he had simply rubbing his wounds against the chair to keep it from healing, it would’ve been infected by now, surely changed into a sickly dark brown or worse, pulpy with pus.

Alice looked down and noticed a giant puddle of dark liquid pooling at their feet, soaking into her boots and what remained of Maso’s shredded clothes.

'The blood would explain why its so wet in here but...'

"But thats impossible."

The smile had changed into a big, shit eating smirk.

“If you’ve been bleeding since last month, then that would mean you wouldnt have any blood left by now. You would be a fucking husk, or dead, or—”

Alice stopped. She stared at the hand she was holding up to her face and realized with an onsetting dread that she shouldnt be able to hold his hand this high if it was shackled...to...the...chair.

Maso brought his knee up and kicked her in the stomach. She dropped his hand and stumbled, doubling over in pain. If she had anything in her stomach, she would've lost it but nothing came out as she retched and gasped for breath.

"Oohhh yesss," Maso sang, his voice suddenly a lot stronger and less hoarse than he made it out to be. He got up from his chair and stretched leisurely while Alice heaved at his feet.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that. Oh, that felt so good!"

Alice turned her head up to look at him and regretted it instantly when he kneed her in the face. A loud cra-ack filled the room and she cried out in surprise and pain as bone shattered.

Maso cackled with utter glee while Alice cradled her broken nose, blood streaming down her face and dripping onto her dress.

"Man, you don't know how often I've fantasized about beating you to a bloody pulp! I thought ol' Jonny was cruel but you give that word a whooole 'nother meaning!" He grabbed her by the hair like she had done earlier and yanked her head up.

"You know, if I were as evil as you, I would drag you the chair and do a little repeat of aaall my memorable sessions," He grinned. "Show you just how well I paid attention to your lessons. That's what they were, weren't they? Lessons to teach the bad boy how wrong he was~"

Alice spat a mouthful of blood at his feet. "Y-you couldn't-" She rasped. "They would find out- you wont get away w-with this--"

"Wanna bet?"

He leaned close and Alice flinched, expecting another hit. But he didn't strike her again, at least not the way she expected.

“Maaybe if they’re distracted..”

Maso smeared his bleeding hand across Alice's face, mixing it with her own. He laughed at her disgusted expression and let go of her hair, letting her crumble down onto the floor, right into the old pool of blood. From up close she realized she had been mistaken. It wasn't blood, or not just blood. She was sitting in water, water ran from the ceilings, from the walls...from Maso's pores.

It churned with unseen forces and the ground seemed to give way underneath her, pulling her down through the opening doorway.

"Calypso says hi," Maso purred.

Alice scrambled for halt, but her arms felt heavy and her mind was filled with paralyzing dread. It felt like it had in her time out in the Void, where she was trapped with the Creature that whispered the most awful things known to the Universe into her thoughts, filling her with despair undescribable for words.

It was coming back to get her, She lay dormant in the depths of the waters now threatening to swallow Alice whole.

The sheer panic couldn't move Alice's muscles as she pleaded for something to give her halt and keep her from sinking back into Calypso's grasp.

Maso smirked and tipped an imaginary hat at her.

"See you later...ooor maybe, see you never again! I wish you endless sufferings in your path~" He taunted and sauntered out of the door, once again leaving her to die at the hands of Calypso.

She tried to scream for help, but found her throat strung shut by the suffocating fear now coursing through her veins.

She was waiting, eagerly and there was nothing Alice could do to break free and save herself from drowning-

Just as her head dipped underneath the surface, something yanked her back, hard to knock what little air she had left out completely.

Alice hacked and coughed, trying to refill her lungs desperately. Still blind in panic, she crawled away from the hole where the water licked at her ankles, ready to drag her back in. But something had changed and only when she had collapsed, shivering, in the corner, did she realize what happened.

The necklace, the one she had made for herself and Melissa only hours prior had warmed up. The blood red gem was glowing, creating a barrier of warmth around Alice as she shivered, knees drawn to her chest. The portal seemed to hiss sinisterly but the tides couldnt reach Alice past the protective bubble and so it retreated, reluctantly, slowly, making sure Alice knew that it was going to try again, and more viciously than before.

Alice watched it retreat, not daring to blink before it had vanished completely. Only once it was gone for good, did she ease. Dizziness replaced the terror she had felt mere seconds earlier and she was just able to call for help before she collapsed, this time unconscious, onto the dirty floor.

#x drabbles #x dont leave me here alone #long post

2 notes · View notes

the-writer-is-always-write · 6 years ago

Text

Ctrl Z: A Short Story

Don't run. The singular thought whispers through my mind, then slips away as I stroll down the cobblestone street. I wear a strapless, blood-red dress. The satin conforms tightly to my bosom, then flares beneath my waist, rippling past my ankles and sweeping across the stones as I walk. My feet are bare, and the cobblestone tugs roughly at their soles.

I look to the left, and then to the right. Vendors line the road, basking in the light of the midday sun. They shout to me as I pass. "Some fine jewelry for a fine young lady?" "Care for some fresh bread, ma'am?" "Persian rugs! Indian spices! Your one-stop import shop, right this way!" A shy smile graces my lips as I wave to the throng of shopkeepers, yet politely decline their wares. I shiver, rubbing my arms as a sudden chill surges through my body. The sun glares harshly overhead, but there is no heat. A biting cold nips at my skin, and I feel exposed. As I stride further down the narrowing avenue, the shopkeepers seem to close in. My gaze swings warily to one, and then another. There's a murmur in the depths of my mind; a slight prodding at my consciousness. A gray-haired, pot-bellied man in a black pea coat suddenly steps in front of me with a sly grin and a penetrating glare. "I've got the best sweets on this side of town!" "N-no thank you," I stammer, brushing past the man with a shudder. His words echo. They're familiar; he is familiar. I resume my walk, faster this time. The passerby began to press nearer to me. My heartbeat stutters. I tentatively meet their gazes. Eyes of pale sky, shimmering emeralds, and rich chocolate stare dully at me. Blank expressions swim in a sea of mechanical smiles, and their cries are dispassionate, and monotonous, a wave of everything and nothing crashing simultaneously against my ears. My pace quickens yet again, breaking into a slow sprint, and I steer my steps carefully through the crowd. Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm, yet it hardly feels like a hand at all. Whirled around by brute force, I stare at the man lurking in front of me. His breath is foul, reeking of garlic. His eyes are a sickly yellow. "Soup fresh store my the left on the at," the man says gruffly. As I yank myself from his grip, he continues to babble nonsensically, lumbering towards me even as I stumble away. "Please," I say in a tremulous tone, "Where am I?" "She doesn't know where she is?" an elderly woman asks. My brow furrows as I notice that her silver hair is cropped like that of a man. "Poor girl is lost," remarks a man with a single eye in the center of his forehead, and two noses. I shriek, recoiling in horror. I glance fearfully through the crowd, discovering even more frightening oddities. A woman with three arms, a child with nothing but a hazy cloud for a face, and countless others. "No, no," I whisper to myself, pausing for a moment among the crowd. I shut my eyes and press my hands against my face. I wrack my brain, struggling to remember...how did I get here? Yet I can only recall walking this street, with these people. Something isn't right. With my heart racing and panic settling like a cloud over my mind, I set off again at a brisk jog. On both sides of the street, the buildings draw my attention. Windows hang upside down. Doors open on the second and third stories. Walls of brick and wood mingle incoherently with each other. Odd signs, crooked lampposts, a meandering sidewalk. Chaos surrounds me, enveloping the road like a blanket. A pressing sense of horror seems to nag at me, and I'm nearly at a run as I hasten down the street. The madness only seems to expand. A six-legged dog suddenly leaps from behind a cart pulled by a green-skinned horse. The horse bares its teeth, then releases a bark reminiscent to that of a dog, whilst the rabid cur at my feet whinnies like the equine beside of it. I leap out of the way, but to no avail. The dog sinks its teeth into the bottom of my dress, shredding the satin ungracefully. I launch a forceful kick into its stomach, watching in shock as the horrific creature suddenly begins to convulse, falling to the ground as its legs flail in all sorts of unnatural directions. Then, it lies still. I stand in silence, staring at the cobblestone where the dog lies. Then, a single intrusive thought enters my mind: This isn't real. As if commanded by some unseen force, a swell of disfigured citizens rushes towards me. They scream manically, reaching for me with claws and unnatural fingers. Their words are jumbled and make no sense. Nothing makes sense. So I run. The pavement cuts and scrapes at my naked feet as I tear down the street. I swipe away unwanted wisps of blonde hair from my brow, hitching up my dress with the other hand to aid in my escape. I peer over my shoulder every so often to see the crowd in steady pursuit, neither gaining nor losing ground. The buildings start to crumble. Doors fall off their hinges with a creak, and windows shatter with a crash, sending a shower of glass to the uneven sidewalks below. Fissures and cracks form along the street, and I hop over them with careful bounds. "Where am I?!" I shout to the skies. The sun stares back, empty-handed. "What is this place?" When an answer eludes me, I continue to dash across the pavement. The buildings fall around me, leaving mounds of lumber and brick in their wake. I trip over a crack in the cobblestone, and stumble to the ground with a groan. There's a surprising lack of pain, but I'm offered no time to ponder the matter. A wave of shouts from behind causes me to glance backwards, and I see the delinquents approaching. I scramble to my feet, bolting further down the avenue. My heart pounds erratically, and my breath is short and ragged. The mob refuses to relent. The street seems to stretch on for an eternity. Tears prick at my eyes, then cascade down my pale cheeks as I sprint down the road. "Help me!" I scream to no one in particular. All of a sudden, there's a flash of silver all around me. For just an instant, a mere sliver of a second, I see gleaming walls, fizzling wires, strange machines, blinking screens, and blaring alarms. As quickly as it appears, it disappears. But it's too late. Like a raindrop transforming into a flood, it all begins to come back to me. I'm remembering, recalling every last detail. Walking down the streets of London on a normal sunny day. The abduction. Being led through a strange, mysterious ship, then thrown into a cell with other lost souls. Then the tests. The warnings. The single instruction that I just can't quite remember; it lies on the battered cusp of my mind, just out of reach. "NO!" I yell, pushing myself faster than I ever have before. "Please, no!" I shout with a sob, running further and further down the eternal road. "Not again!" The buildings begin to swirl into dark, murky puddles. The street wobbles beneath my feet, throwing me off-balance. Then, a gargantuan maw breaks open in front of me. I try to stop, but my attempts are in vain. With a hoarse cry, I stumble over the edge, and into the abyss. Darkness closes in as I fall through the air. My mind becomes a muddled mess, and I struggle to make sense of my surroundings. I know what's about to happen. I have to remember. I can't forget this time. Yet the more insistently I grasp my thoughts, the easier they're plucked from the clutches of my consciousness, until my mind is almost bare. The blackness surrounding me starts to lighten. My bare feet suddenly touch ground, then begin to move forward in slow strides. I am a fresh canvas. Only one thing remains: the instructions. The singular thought is the first thing to whisper through my mind as I stroll down the cobblestone street. Don't run.

#writing #writers #writer #writing prompts #short story

2K notes · View notes

k-p-p-d · 6 years ago

Text

Make It up to Me, III (M)

Pairing: Kris x D.O x Reader

Summary: Tall, dark, and handsome... Just your style.

Length: 4k

Warnings: kink negotiation (specifically, exclusive negotiation cuz Soo isn’t an asshole who’ll shove other kinks in just because they weren’t explicitly stated and/or discussed)

A/N: Honestly, I should be a food writer. ANYWHO. You know I couldn’t keep this from you~ @sojufor1 😘

Part One | Part Two

“This better not be something stu— Oh.”

Standing before you was a man.

An exceptionally tall man.

A man who was likely even taller than your man.

The man’s long and lean form was draped in the slimmest of slim-cut suits, the mohair jacket being double-breasted with peaked satin lapels and the hem of the cigarette-style pants just barely grazing along his ankles. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that he was, in fact, not wearing a shirt with said suit; but that was something you would have to process later (if ever). The glossy black, patent leather monk shoes would have looked like odd clown shoes were it not for the simple, understated elegance of them and the way he seemed to ooze assured confidence. A litany of pale gold chains of varying lengths and widths encircled his neck, each being encrusted with various stones or gems—from sparkling diamonds to vivid citrine topaz to brilliantly deep emerald and sapphires—that caught the light whenever he so much as breathed, especially the dazzling dragon head pendant which rested snugly in the hollow of his neck. Decorating each of his fore and ring fingers were a set of slightly mismatched, oversized rings--some a vivid yellow gold while others a more subtle pale gold; one boasted a hefty cabochon-cut obsidian, another an emerald-cut ruby of equal size and grandeur, one other was sculpted into the fierce face of a traditional shí shī, and the last was coated completely in diamonds—that would have been far too gaudy on anyone else if he did not the largest hands you had only ever seen in the pages of graphic novels. The white gold studded earrings he wore were crafted into what you could only guess to be the Chinese characters comprising his name. His inky black hair was up and back away from his forehead, save for a few stray tendrils here and there, to reveal a closely cropped undercut with an exceptional fade. Perched on his impossibly straight nose were a pair of small sunglasses bearing only red, rectangular lenses and the thin wires that held it all together. Behind the colored lenses were a mesmerizing pair of downturned, sleepy eyes which seemed to gaze straight through you as if there was nothing there for them to see since they already knew all your deepest and darkest secrets, and yet they offered you nothing but mystery and secrecy in return.

He was tall, dark, and annoyingly handsome.

You didn’t like him.

“Go on, dear,” Kyungsoo gently called out encouragingly, “introduce yourself.” The man dipped forward in a bow just shy of being too formal for the occasion before he greeted in an alluringly deep rumble of a voice, “Good evening, my name is YiFan and I am your gift.” He straightened back up to extend a hand to you to shake, the assortment of Cartier bracelets dangling delicately off his wrists flashing brilliantly in the light. He offered a small, reserved smile that only highlighted how small his pouty mouth was as he politely asked, “May I come inside?” Great; he was tall, dark, annoyingly handsome, and polite.

Your mild annoyance at his existence had just upgraded itself to full-blown dislike. You narrowed your eyes at him, but stepped aside to grant him entrance the less. He rumbled a soft “thank you” as he swept past you to get to Kyungsoo, who simply patted the left armrest of the chair. YiFan immediately perched himself on it before turning to look curiously at you. You only scowled at him as you plopped back down onto the couch. A silent moment passed between you all, both men now staring at you with mirrored expression. You tried your best not to be petty or sardonic, you really did but you couldn’t stand the way they just...stared at you. You crossed your arms and huffed at Kyungsoo, “‘Very well-mannered,’ huh? Well, then why is he wearing sunglasses at night inside? Seems kind of douchey to me...” YiFan’s strong brows knitted together just briefly in confusion at the sudden hostility. Good, missi--

“Watch yourself,” Kyungsoo warned in a deceptively soft voice as his fingers lifted to soothingly stroke the back of YiFan’s neck. “Just because you and I have done a preliminary negotiation which resulted in YiFan here being chosen does not mean you have the privilege to speak however you wish about or to him, least of all without his consent. So please, apologize to my dear boy.” “I don’t see wh—” For a split second, all the rounded, softened edges of his face & demeanor hardened with the flaring of his nostrils and clenching of his jaw as his veil of demureness slipped away in tattered shreds to reveal something cold and domineering in its wake when he growled dangerously low, “I said apologize.” The unwavering of his piercing gaze held you down under the crushing weight of the sudden wave of guilt of having callously insulted YiFan for no other reason than just to make a bitchy comment washed over you. Shifting uncomfortably, you flicked your eyes over to YiFan who at least had the decency (or perhaps, the audacity) to keep his face completely neutral during this very awkward, unwelcome blow to your ego. You mumbled out a quick apology with a defiant huff. YiFan opened his mouth to respond, but a gentle squeeze from the hand still stroking his neck had him snapping his mouth shut. “That was not an apology,” Kyungsoo chastised bluntly. “Do it again, and properly this time.”

You wanted to dig your heels in and tell Kyungsoo exactly where and how far he could shove his damn apology, but an unbidden flash of Chanyeol’s annoyingly effective pout flashed through your head. You could almost hear him bemoan how he only wanted to spoil you for your birthday because he never got to do so and how much you deserved to have such a memorable experience, especially since he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you blah blah blah. Ugh. You hated having a conscience sometimes. Begrudgingly, you turned to YiFan and mustered up all the sincerity you could, “YiFan, I apologize for having insulted you. I meant no harm by it, I hope you will forgive my slight.”

YiFan’s small smile returned to his face, “I accept your apology, and I do forgive you.” He shifted forward to extend a hand to rest on your knee but hesitated for a split second as if remembering he had not yet had your consent to touch you; so he placed his hand on Kyungsoo’s knee instead. His slight hesitation frustrated you because how dare he be so considerate on top of being tall, dark, annoyingly handsome, and polite. “He’s just overprotective of me, but don’t worry.” He winked, “I can take much more take more than that.” That certainly got your attention. “Is that so?”

YiFan shrugged, “It is. But we’ll discuss that later. Right, Sir?”

A small, warm smile floated onto Kyungsoo’s face as he shifted forward in his chair with a gentle nod of acknowledgement. “Have you eaten yet?” he inquired gently. And just like that, the tension that had begun to mount between you and YiFan dissipated to a gentle simmer as you turned to frown at Kyungsoo. He explained, “Mr. Park informed me that when left to your own devices, you may forget to eat every now again.” At the scowl that was starting to worm its way across your lips at Chanyeol’s (damn him) keen observation, Kyungsoo lifted his hand in a placating wave. “It’s perfectly okay if you haven’t. YiFan and I are both very adept in the kitchen so it would be our honor to treat you with a delicious dinner, if you’d allow us. Isn’t that right, FanFan?”

YiFan nodded once, “It would be our greatest honor.”

“I haven’t eaten dinner yet, no.” Although a part of you didn’t want to relinquish control of your most private and sacred domain, your kitchen, you were no fool to turn down a home-cooked meal made by someone who wasn’t you. “But sure, go ahead,” you allowed. “The kitchen is right over there, and both the fridge and pantry are fully stocked.” You leaned back, one arm propped up on the back of the couch. A playful smirk slipped onto your lips as you teasingly challenged, “Impress me.”

Kyungsoo rose, a smirk of his own tugging at his plush lips. “We’ll do our best.” He extended a hand for YiFan to take, “Won’t we, FanFan?”

“Yes, Sir.” With that, the two men practically slinked to the kitchen, whispering conspiratorially between them. It should have felt awkward to have these two strangers clinking around in your home, preparing a meal for you all to share, but it wasn’t. Amidst the gentle clatterings of pots and pans being moved and the rhythmic thudding of knives against cutting boards, it actually felt quite peaceful, even a little familiar. How interesting. Soon enough, a spiced aroma wafted through the air to curl around and warm you from the inside out. If whatever they were making tasted half as good as it smelled, you just might have had to show them exactly how much you appreciated it...with your mouth... Maybe even a few other appendages and parts... But that still remained to be seen. Several more quiet moments passed, interrupted only by the ambient noises from the kitchen and the occasional rumble of your stomach, before YiFan called out, “Where would you like to eat?”

“The dining room will be fine,” you answered, pushing yourself almost reluctantly off the comfortable couch to head to said room. Although you and Chanyeol hardly ever used this room, much preferring to eat together in the living room or at the large island in the kitchen, you made it a point to remove the chair he tended to use from the table. Just because he wasn’t physically there didn’t mean his presence wasn’t there. And so what if that made you possessive? It’s not like either man could talk considering the dynamics of their relationship. Which reminded you that you really didn’t know much about their dynamic, or even them for that matter. Huh. Chanyeol might have vetted them out, but that didn’t mean you were going to just accept his (so-far annoyingly sound) judgment call. You had questions, damn it, and they were absolutely going to be answered. You took your usual seat at the table and began to compile a list of inquiries in your mind. YiFan entered soon after to set the table, though you paid him no mind. However, the delicious smell that had been floating from the kitchen suddenly grew stronger a few moments later, effectively disrupting your concentration. Blinking, you realized that Kyungsoo had also come in and was currently placing a bowl of--

“You made pho,” you stated dumbly as you stared in awe down at the appetizing dish before you. The bowl was filled nearly to the brim with a pale amber broth just the right side of cloudy in which swam a healthy heap of beautiful rice noodles, vibrantly green sprigs of cilantro, scattered stalks of bean sprouts, and ribbons of thinly sliced beef.

“We did,” Kyungsoo confirmed with a gentle chuckle as he set down a plate of thinly sliced carrots, green onions, and garlic along with a couple small dishes of quartered limes and sliced chilis beside the bowl. YiFan pushed the few dishes containing a few sauces and he had brought in earlier to be closer to you before sitting to your left. Kyungsoo took the seat to your right. “Obviously, it’s not as authentic as it could be, but we hope it’s satisfying enough and that you enjoy it.” Without further ado and not wanting to risk sounding like a broken record by proclaiming that they had made you pho, which you had been craving for days now (they were either psychic or Chanyeol tipped them off; either way you had pho!), you picked up your spoon and chopsticks and dug right into it.

You could not be blamed for the deep moan that rumbled through your chest and throat as the flavors practically in your mouth. The broth washed over your tastebuds with its distinctly clean yet savory taste before the spices embedded within the liquid surged forward to ambush them with delightfully spicy stings while the noodles’ subtle flavor and the beef’s richness combined to mellow out the spiciness and deepen the overall the flavor. In a word, it was delicious. So really who could blame you for forgoing all sense of grace and civility by shoveling several more of mouthfuls of said deliciousness down. It wasn’t until Kyungsoo gently chuckled that you put your utensils down and actually took a moment to properly chew your food before asking rather eloquently, “What?”

“Oh, nothing really,” he hummed, mischievous glint sparking in his dark eyes, “it just seems YiFan and I managed to do a decent job.”

This smug bastard… Straightening up, you reached for the glass of water YiFan had taken the liberty of filling for you with a shrug, “It’s not the best I’ve ever had, but it’ll do.”

Now it was YiFan’s turn to chuckle, which earned him a scowled “what” in response. “You really are a brat, aren’t you?” he teased with a playfully arched brow.

“That’s rich coming from a man who-“ Kyungsoo’s own raised brow in silent warning had you biting back the snide remark. “Never mind.” YiFan smirked in triumph. You contemplated punching him in his chest. Deciding against it, though, you turned your attention down to the food. It was only then you noticed that you were the only one eating.

Kyungsoo seemed to instantly recognize the confusion which flitted across your face. “As was said earlier,” he hummed sweetly in that annoyingly rich baritone of his, “YiFan and I wanted to treat you, and you alone, because tonight we are here to serve and indulge you in anyway we can.” He leaned forward, sweet smile deepening into a dirty smirk, to nudge the bowl a touch closer to you. “So eat up, you’ll need all your strength.”

“So it’s going to be that kind of night?” you posited with a smirk of your own.

“It can be if it’s what you’d like that,” YiFan rasped as he leaned back in his seat and tilted his head back just so to stare you down hungrily. Blinking slowly, he slid his eyes over to Kyungsoo, unabashed want still clear his face. “Should we discuss our boundaries now or later?”

“Later,” he rumbled before finishing pointedly, “after she finishes her dinner.” If all that was standing between you and an evening full of fun was just a bowl of sinfully good pho, then you were never happier to obey an indirect command.

“So what’s with the sunglasses?” you managed to ask between bites.

The two men shared a brief yet meaningful look before YiFan responded, “Sometimes I can get overwhelmed easily with nerves and excitement when I know we’ll be playing with someone or something new. Being so stimulated by the anticipation alone destroys my focus on anything that happens before a scene, such as work meetings or pre-scene briefings and negotiations. So having these,” he reached up to gingerly touch the arm of the glasses, “helps me to remain calm and focused because my brain isn’t scrambling trying to encode and understand all the visual cues I’m usually flooded with at any given. Basically, because my sunglasses make everything red, my brain can focus on other sense cues, like touch and smell which are harder and more impractical to reduce sensory input from in everyday life. And plus, these are definitely my style.”

Huh. That was...incredibly logical. Who knew everyday fashion could be used to practice kink outside of a scene. Maybe you could try it with Chanyeol sometime, considering how easily excitable and distractible he could be… Before your brain could drum up any thoughts of Chanyeol squirming underneath you and breathlessly panting, you steered the conversation into a different direction. “So you’re not a professional submissive?”

“Oh God, no,” he practically giggled, bright and goofy gummy grin effectively shattering his suave image (and effectively making your heart do this weird swooping thing that you did not want to think about), with a shake of his head. “I’m far too controlling to be submissive all the time and to just anyone.”

“Here I was thinking you loved being dressed up and bossed around.”

“Oh, I absolutely do. But even an ounce of my submission has to be earned,” he fired back with a wink, his face settling back into his coolly reserved and haughty default expression.

“And will you give me more than an ounce tonight? It’s my birthday after all.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like a challenge.”

“How do you know I do?”

“Don’t ask me, ask him,” he answered, jerking his chin at Kyungsoo, who had been quietly observing their playful banter.

“I don’t like repeating myself though,” you lilted before taking a sip of your water.

YiFan chuckled, “Neither does he, so you’ll both get along quite well tonight. So long as you obey him.”

At that, Kyungsoo calmly interjected, “You should finish your dinner before it gets cold.” Recognizing an unspoken ultimatum behind his words, you acquiesced. Once you were done, he wordlessly instructed YiFan to help him clear the table before requesting that you wait for them in the living room. Just as you settled back onto the couch, they entered and each took a seat in the matching set of chairs facing you. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“I did,” you admitted candidly, wanting to be done with all the pleasantries as quickly as possible so you all could have this very necessary conversation before (finally) getting on with the night’s festivities.

“Good,” Kyungsoo hummed. Clearing his throat, he began, “YiFan, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, is one of my submissives. I have chosen him to be your scene partner for the evening because the five kinks you listed earlier are five of his personal core kinks, or things he needs to have in a scene. Do you remember the kinks you decided upon earlier?”

“Yes, I do,” you confirmed with a nod.

“Please repeat them so YiFan may know them as well,” he instructed.

Turning to face the taller man, you repeated your list: “Edge play, sense deprivation—but no blindfolds are to be used on me—, leather, bondage, and humiliation and degradation.”

“YiFan,” Kyungsoo called out to gain the other’s attention, “are any of those kinks not something you would like to explore this evening?”

“No, Sir,” YiFan answered firmly.

“Are you comfortable with being part of the scene?”

“Yes, Sir, I am,” he nodded.

“Wonderful. Please explain to her what your role this evening will be.”

YiFan leveled his surprisingly sober gaze at you. “Tonight I am to be the submissive partner in the scene. I am to be used to teach you the art of domination under Sir’s instruction and care as you, to our knowledge, have not had formal instruction despite having an interest in it.”

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo reached over to gently pat his knee before turning to address you. “Are you comfortable with his involvement in the scene?”

“I am, yes,” you answered easily.

“And are you comfortable with the role we would like for you to have in the scene? To be clear, you will both be submissive to myself, though you will have some direction and control over YiFan as I see fit.”

“Yes, I am,” you echoed your earlier response.

“Great. You are to address me as Sir once the scene begins. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you purred, saucily tossing a wink his direction.

“Good girl,” he teased. “Let’s discuss hard limits now. Hard limits are things you absolutely do not want to experience or include in this scene. For example, the use of blindfolds on you should be considered a hard limit of yours. Correct?”

“Yeah, that is definitely a hard limit for me.” Taking a moment, you carefully considered your own needs and wants. “My hands and feet should not be bound at the same time. Absolutely no scat play or watersports. Way too messy for my liking.”

Kyungsoo chuckled, “I think those last two are hard limits for all of us.” A quick glance at YiFan, who was doing his absolute damnedest not to scowl in disgust but failing miserably by the way his nose refused to unwrinkle itself, confirmed it. “YiFan, do you have any other hard limits?”

“Blood play, foot play, and tickling,” came his emphatic response.

Wait. “Tickling?” you asked incredulously. The first two you could understand since not everyone could handle the sight and/or feel of blood or feet. But tickling? Good ol’ harmless tickling was completely off the table? You just had to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he whined, his lips poking out in the slightest pout. “I have long limbs that I lose complete control of when I’m tickled so unless you want to get kicked in the shin, kneed in the hip, or punched in the nose, absolutely no tickling.”

Waving a placating hand while using the other to swipe at your tear-filled eyes, you conceded, “Fine, fine. No tickling. Kyungsoo, what about you?”

“I have no other hard limits. We should discuss safewords. YiFan and I tend to use a single verbal safeword or several specific non-verbal cues to end a scene. If you’d like, you can use the system we do; or you have the option of choosing to use the color system, which is where you might say “red” to stop the scene completely, “yellow” to pause it momentarily for any reason, or “green” to continue it. You’re more than welcome to use this system alone or within some combination of ours. Which would you prefer?”

“The system you and YiFan use will be fine. I don’t want to complicate anything or throw anyone off.”

Both men frowned at you, but it was YiFan who spoke. “Nonsense. You are our main focus and concern this evening. We are here to do whatever pleases you most within reason so do not for a second think you’re making things ‘complicated’ or whatever. We’re very flexible—both figuarively and literally,” he finished with a wink.

“I feel like I was just scolded,” you huffed.

“That’s because you were,” Kyungsoo stated simply. “The safeword we use is ‘tango,’ three taps to the arm or thigh is the non-verbal cue. Do you understand?” Once you confirmed you did, he continued on to ask, “Where would you like for the scene to occur?”

“Um, I guess the bedroom will be fine.”

“Are you certain?” he questioned, brows knitted together in concern; YiFan mirrored his expression. “We don’t have to use the bedroom if it will make you uncomfortable during or afterward.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” you assured them. We can use it. It’s the space I’m most comfortable in after all.”

“Alright.” Kyungsoo reached down to grab his duffel bag before turning to smile warmly at YiFan, “FanFan, where would you like to do your stretches?”

“Is it alright if I do them here in the living room? There’s a lot of open space and well…” he motioned at his long, lean figure.

You smirked at him, “Of course. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I’m very good at stretching myself,” he husked with a smirk of his own.

Kyungsoo sighed, “You two are going to be a handful, I can see that now.”

“You should’ve known that already,” you shot back teasingly. “Or did Mr. Park forget to state that explicitly?”

“Oh, I assure you, he told me everything,” the way his voice dipped impossibly lower as he stressed the word caused your skin to ripple with chills, “in great detail. YiFan, come to us when you’re ready.”

YiFan stood with a solemn nod, “Yes, Sir.”

“Now,” he rose from his seat to offer his hand for you to take, “lead me to the bedroom.”

Slipping your fingers between his as you slowly pulled yourself up off the couch, you let your lips curl slowly into a wolfish grin. “Follow me…”

--Admin Lily💋

#exo #exo d.o #exo d.o scenarios #kris wu #wu yifan #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #happy winter day #happy winter day!🌬#happy winter day!#admin lily

30 notes · View notes