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hornsbeforehalos · 1 month ago

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Anytime, Sweetheart (Remastered)-Part Three

Pairing: JDM x OFC (RPF)SERIES WARNINGS: (not specific to each chapter): violence, implied sexual assault, drug use, drinking, smut, murder, cursing, age-gap relationships, power dynamics, angst, slight slow burn, cheating... will update warnings as needed. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is a rewrite! I originally wrote this, which can still be found in my master list, years and years ago and finally have decided to spruce it up a bit. This will be in third person POV and updated to be less... cringy as the original. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. I haven't written anything serious in years so this is me dipping my toes back in :) Face credit for OC is Taylor Momsen :) Tag List: @coffee-obsessed-writer @kazosa @lovealways-j @lovetusk @sorenmarie87 @smoothdogsgirl

Kylin spent the next four weeks in Austin. The first week, she barely left her bed, and barely ate. The second week, after most of the bruises had healed and only a minor scar remained above her right eyebrow, she ventured into the living room and out into the backyard. The third week, she had been so grateful that no one had brought up what happened, that she began to talk again. By the fourth week she felt almost better and decided that it was time for her to go back to Dallas. Jensen had insisted that she could stay, of course, but he also understood her need to move on and get past what had been the last three years of her life. He lent her enough money to find a new loft in one of the sub cities in the metroplex, and by the end of the second month, she had gone back to bartending. She had been in the industry before Anthony had stopped her from working, and the job came naturally to her. She was only working for the gentleman’s club for two months when she was given the promotion to bar manager. Her life was actually somewhat normal, and she felt her start to become a version of her old self again.

“Kylin, hun, I need your help tonight,” John, one of the floor managers, asked with his hands formed in a steeple before him. He was a large man with muscles on top of muscles, who was constantly sweating, and looked absolutely ridiculous begging her for anything.

“I’m not dancing again, John, stop asking,” Kylin smirked as she scraped the barcode off another empty bottle before she threw it in the trash.

“What? No. Not that. Well, that would actually help, too…Nevermind, stop distracting me, “ He grinned, walking around the edge of the bar.

“Then what? Kinda busy here, babe.” She replied with a sigh as another ticket appeared from the printer. She started working on the order as she waited for John to continue.

“Lucy called in sick, and there’s supposed to be this huge group of people tonight. Apparently there’s a comic convention or something in town and a few of the celebrities chose here to after party.” John stated as he wiped the never-ending downpour of sweat from his brow, “They literally rented out the entire VIP section.”

“Okay, so? Don’t give yourself a stroke, big man. I’ll handle it.” Kylin replied with rolled eyes. She gathered the other bartenders and together they came up with a game plan. John stood back with an obvious relieved look on his face. The poor man was constantly a nervous wreck.

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The managers had banned together to rearrange the VIP section for more privacy for the special guests while Kylin worked at cleaning and stocking the bar for the interesting night ahead of them. By the time the guests had arrived, though, the wait staff was running around like decapitated chickens and the floor bosses were doing what they could to put out the fires in their wake. John was helping Kylin behind the bar at the same time as attempting to run drinks for Andrea, another one of the bartenders, and was honestly doing more harm than good after his third broken bottle of Scotch.

“God fucking damnit, John. Get from behind my bar! Go find me a real damn barback!” Kylin screamed as she pushed him out from the area with a huff. He quickly ran and hid at Andrea’s well area. He knew better than to be in Kylin’s way when she was overwhelmed.

“Fucking hell, I thought that was you.” Came a deep, rough chuckle from the other side of the bar. Kylin’s skin prickled instantly, recognizing the voice.

She turned slowly around to see the handsome man leaning over with his arms crossed on the bar top, empty glass in front of him. He was wearing a worn leather jacket, black tee, and his thick rimmed glasses. A smirk played on his lips as his eyes danced over her. Her uniform of a small black tank top and itty bitty shorts left little to the imagination.

She gave a cringey smile of embarrassment and scratched the top of her head, “Err, Hey, Jeff. Uh, sorry about that.”

“Ha! Hon, that was adorable. You made him run away like a baby!” He barked out a laugh as she walked over to where he was to refill his glass.

“Still drinking whiskey?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Yup. Get yourself one too, while you're at it.”

“Thanks, I need it.” She smiled and pulled out a shot glass for herself.

As she filled the glasses, her favorite dancer, Cali, threw herself onto one of the barstools towards the end of the bar. Kylin turned her attention to her after taking the shot. The pretty blonde sighed in exhaustion and laid her head on her arm draped across the bar top. “This place is ridiculous tonight, how is your bar so empty?”

“Pssh, It’s not. You see this printer? Hasn’t stopped.” Kylin nodded in the direction of the computer as the next three receipts emerged.

Kylin made the orders and dropped them at the well as the waitresses lined up to grab them. She had almost gotten completely caught up when she heard Cali shriek.

“Holy crap, you’re Negan!”

“Why, yes mam, I am,” was Jeffrey’s reply, and Kylin instantly winced as she faced them.

“Christ, Cal, reel it in a bit.” Kylin glared as she watched the younger woman make her way over to where Jeff was sitting.

“Holy fucking shit,” Cali said, ignoring her completely as she perched herself on the stool next to the man, “How are you doing tonight, sir?”

“Doing good, how about yourself?” He replied, an amused smirk on his face. He proceeded to entertain her for a few minutes as Kylin got back to work. The constant flow of tickets distracted her until she heard Cali’s high voice pitchup again.

“Kylin! You didn’t tell me you know famous people!” She screeched, leaning over the bar on her elbows with her knees in the stool.

“I know famous people, I guess?” Kylin shrugged, which made Jeff laugh. Kylin refilled Jeffrey’s glass again and gave Cali a redbull.

“Can I get some vodka in this?” The girl mumbled while she poked a straw through the tab. Kylin glared at her with her hand on her hip.

“Whatever,” Cali replied as she leaped from the seat and turned to Jeff, an innocent look on her face, “Wanna get some dances?”

“Not tonight dear, sorry,” Jeff replied with a shake of his head, secretly earning him an internal sigh of relief from Kylin. He pulled out a few twenties from his jacket pocket and handed them to her. She smiled widely and looked to Ky, then back to Jeff, then back to Ky again and wiggled her eyebrows with a wink. Kylin replied with a roll of her eyes and went back to work.

Jeffrey stayed at the bar the rest of the evening, making small talk with her when she got a moment to come refill his glass. About thirty minutes before closing, while she was starting to clean up, a second loud voice finally joined the bar.

“There you are, God damn, you fuckin’ disappeared!” Kylin turned to see Norman Reedus clutch Jeff on the shoulder and drunkenly lean against the bar beside him. He looked towards Kylin and purred, “And who do we have here?”

“Norm, this is Kylin. Jensen’s baby sister.” Jeff answered, sarcasm covered the word ‘baby’ with a mocking tone. He gripped Norman’s shoulder a little tighter in warning, “I met her in Austin a few months ago. I told you about her, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Well, that makes sense as to why we haven’t seen you all night.” Norman teased. He winked at Jeffrey and flashed a grin before turning his attention back to Ky.

“You’re a cute little thing, What you weigh? About a buck?” Norman asked as he lit a cigarette.

“Jesus, fucker. Have some couth.” Jeffrey barked with wide eyes and an embarrassed laugh.

“Soaking wet.” Kylin smirked. She cocked her eyebrow as she watched Norman’s eyes roam her frame.

Jeffrey huffed out another laugh as Norman choked on the smoke in his lungs.

“I like you,” Norman replied with narrowed eyes. He pointed to her with the fingers holding his cigarette in a knowing gesture. He nodded to Kylin as he stepped away from the bar and started back towards the small group of people nearest to them. He looked back to Jeff and gave him a knowing look, eyes still squinted.

Jeffrey shook his head as he turned back to Ky and propped his chin in the palm of his hand and elbow on the bartop, “What are you doing later?”

“It’s two in the morning, babe. I’m cleaning this bar and then going to bed.” Kylin answered, gesturing to the area behind her.

“Hmm, well, I suppose I’ll let you get to it before I miss my ride,” He glanced over to the group of his friends that were making their way out of the small section and towards the exit.

He pulled his phone out from his pocket and placed it on the bar in front of him, open on the ‘Add Contact’ screen. Kylin looked at him as she picked up the phone and quickly tapped in her number and name before giving it back to him. He grinned as he opened the camera and gestured for her to take a picture with him. She let out a breathy laugh as she climbed on top of the freezer and leaned over to get into the frame. Jeffrey clicked the button with a big smile on both of their faces.

“Send that to me?” She asked as she hopped down.

“Of course,” He replied, a grin still playing on his face as he rose up from his seat.

“It was good seeing you again, girl. Glad to see you’ve been taking care of yourself.” Jeff said as he watched Ky walk around the side of the bar to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Jeff. That means a lot.” She replied with a squeeze. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight and kissed the top of her head. His scent enveloped her and she breathed deep as the butterflies danced in her stomach.

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” He said as they pulled apart from each other, “Text me when you get home?”

Kylin nodded to him with a smile as he gave her another wave and turned to catch up with his friends.

‘Holy fucking shit.’ was the only thing she could think.

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The next day, Kylin awoke to two new text messages. Both from Jeffrey. One was a picture from the night before, the other asking what she had planned for the day

“Nothing that i know of, today’s my day off FINALLY, lol.” She replied before she crawled out of the comfort of her bed.

“You should come to the con. I can leave you a pass.” Came his response moments later.

“I guess I don’t have anything better to do today ;)” She sent back, hoping he registered her teasing tone.

“Well good ;) Come hang out with some old men.”

Kylin shook her head with a laugh as she made her way to the bathroom to ready herself for the day.

Jeffrey sent Kylin the details that were needed while she stood in front of her closet to try and find something to wear. She found herself in a pair of shorts, (even though it was October, it was Texas and still in the 90’s) and a Family Business Beer Co shirt that was cut to hang off her shoulder. She also laced up her converse and tied a flannel shirt around her waist, in case she found herself out late enough that it got chilly. She did some basic makeup of lashes and a dark lip, wanting to avoid the possibility of it getting messed up.

Anxiety and nervousness started to sit in as she pulled into the parking lot of the convention center. Sure, she had hung out with actors before, and had been to numerous cons, but not without the safety blanket that was her brother and his friends. She grinned at the thought of how pissed she knew Jensen was going to be when he found out that she had gone against his obvious wishes and hung out with Jeff. She figured her excuse would be that she was a grown woman and allowed to do as she pleased, and after three years of hell, she deserved to have a little fun. Plus, they were just going to be hanging out as friends, right?

She entered the convention center and found the front desk where Jeff had told her her pass would be. She gave the receptionist her name, who lifted her eyes and asked to see her ID. She showed the lady her card and was handed over the gold pass and itinerary before being pointed to the direction of the lounge. She texted Jeff to let him know she was there, and he responded that he would meet her soon. Once she found where she was supposed to be, she sat herself at the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary while she waited.

A side door that she hadn’t noticed before opened up and Norman popped his head out, “Psst, Ackles, over here.”

It was obvious that Norman was trying to avoid being seen by the few fans in the vicinity, so Kylin quickly grabbed her drink and scurried over to him. He opened the door wide enough for her to fit though and led her down a small hallway to the green room.

“Jeff got called to a photo op real quick, so he sent me to get ya. I’ve gotta get goin’ myself, though, but just wait here and he should be back in a sec.” Norman explained as they stepped through the door. The small room was filled with couches and tables adorned with snacks and drinks, and Kylin nodded in response while taking a sip of her drink.

She was scrolling through social media and chewing on her straw when the door opened a few minutes later and his voice was heard, “ Thought you were a whiskey girl.”

She looked up at him with a snort and shrugged, “Breakfast of champion.” She raised her glass in salutation.

Jeffrey chuckled as she stood up and stepped towards him. He opened his arms and she settled into them in what was only a semi-awkward embrace.

“Thanks for comin’, hon. It’s good to see you again.” He drawled, looking down at her with his arms still wrapped around her shoulders.

She peered up at him and let a small smile creep across her face, “Good to see you too, Mr. Morgan.”

They sat on the couch, close, but not uncomfortably so. He put his arm across the back of the sofa, his hand near her shoulder but not touching it, and turned towards her with a grin.

“How’s the con going? I haven’t been to one of these things in a while.” She asked as she drained her glass of the remaining tomatoey drink and placed it on a nearby table. She shifted slightly to look at him better. He was wearing his leather jacket, dark shirt, and glasses again.

“It’s alright. Not the worst, but still pretty chaotic.” He started with a sigh, “They oversold everything and everyone’s squeezed in here like fuckin’ sardines. The line for autos was so long they had to start going by section because the fire marshal almost had a fit. People are pissed. Norm almost fought someone over a damn cigarette break.” He shook his head and lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Sounds like a shit storm,” Kylin replied, a sympathetic look on her face. She knew how stressful cons could be, and when one thing didn’t go right, a lot of other shit usually didn’t go right either.

Jeff had about an hour break before he had to get back to photo ops and autographs, which the two of them spent catching up some more. He commented again on how he was happy to see that it seemed she was doing better, and she thanked him for it again. The topic then changed to the horror stories that had been his past few conventions, and how he and his most recent girlfriend had called it quits.

“That’s the reason I was at Jensen’s that weekend. Crazy broad followed me all the way down there trying to ‘fix shit’ after I found her in bed with some Estonian male model.” He huffed. He shook his head to rid the memory and mumbled something under his breath that Kylin wasn’t able to make out.

“That’s fucking horrible, dude. I’m sorry.” Kylin sympathized, and reached out to touch his hand that was resting on his knee. He let his eyes linger there for a moment before looking back up to her.

“What are you doing tonight?” He suddenly asked with an intense gaze.

A blush creeped up along her neck and she moved her hand away to fiddle with her phone in her lap, “I don't have anything planned.”

“Come out with me. We’re going to the bar district here and it would be nice to have a tour guide.” He reached over and grabbed her hand back from her phone, returning her attention to him.

She thought about it for a moment before answering. What’s the worst that could happen? “Sure, what time?”

“Prolly around ten-ish. Can you meet us at the hotel? We’re supposed to be within walking distance of the bars.” He asked before telling her what hotel they were all staying at.

“Sure, that’s not that far from me,” She replied, taking her hand back to check the time on her phone. It was near six.

He looked at his watch before he cleared his throat and rasped, “Damn sugar, it’s time for me to go back to work.”

He twisted himself off the couch then reached down to give her a hand up, “ You can stay here if you like. No one will fuck with you. Or you can go explore, whatever you wanna do.”

“I think I’ll go explore a bit before heading home to get ready. Any preference on attire?” She replied, still holding onto his hand that swayed back and forth between them.

“Oooh, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll still be the most gorgeous girl in the room with anything you wear.” He said smoothly. He ran his tongue over his top teeth and flashed her a wolfish grin.

She looked away with another blush, “I guess I’ll see what I can do.”

The handler came in seconds later to escort Jeffrey to his next task. He gave Kylin a tight squeeze and kissed the crown of her head again before he sauntered away and out the door. She stayed in the greenroom for a few minutes while she gathered her thoughts around what had just happened before she slipped out of the room herself.

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After walking around the vendor area for a bit and looking at everything, Kylin headed home. She showered and got ready for the night while her anxiety continued to drive her crazy. She had blow dried her hair to perfect straightness and redid her makeup, though this time she added dark eyeshadow and left her lips nude. She slipped herself into a form-fitting black dress with black pumps to match, and adorned her wrists and fingers and neck with various pieces of jewelry. Jeffrey had already sent her the details on where to meet him, and so as soon as she was done she headed back out the door.

She sent him a text when she arrived, and he replied back with his room number. She made her way up the elevator to his floor, nervously fidgeting with a ring on her finger. She wasn’t as nervous once she actually got to his door, and she even smiled as she stepped up and knocked.

Jeffrey answered the door quickly, and his jaw dropped as his eyes took in her appearance. She felt a ping of panic flare again, and it seemed as though her body was having a similar reaction to his. He was wearing a deep blue dress shirt under a black blazer, and nice jeans and nice shoes. He had abandoned his glasses for contacts and his eyes seemed brighter than she remembered.

“God damn, baby girl, look at you.” He breathed, and jokingly clutched his chest as if to stave off a heart attack. He held his hand out for her to take as he escorted her into the suite.

“Everyone, this is Kylin,” He said cheekily, wrapping an arm tight around her waist and pulling her into his side, “She will be our tour guide for this evening.”

“God bless Texas,” was called, which made Kylin flush in embarrassment.

Jeffrey introduced Kylin to everyone, and they all gave her smiles, waves, and handshakes. She found it relieving to be able to partake in their conversations easily while they waited on a couple members of the group to finish getting ready.

They soon departed from the hotel and walked in a group down the streets of Dallas for the few blocks it took to get to the bar district that was known as Deep Ellum. The guys all admired the graffiti artwork and murals that adorned a few of the buildings and Kylin pointed out all her favorite ones. JEff stayed by her side the entire time, occasionally throwing his arm over her shoulders and reeling her into him. They stole glances back and forth as they walked through the streets.

They had made it to the fourth small dive bar sometime around one-thirty, and by that time everyone in the group was slightly intoxicated, though some more than others. Kylin was just tipsy enough to be a little more daring and flirt with Jeff. They were sitting in a booth towards the back with everyone, just joking and laughing. She was happy that she fit in so perfectly.

“Isn’t she fuckin’ beautiful?” Jeffrey rasped as he interrupted Andrew and his tirade of something that Kylin seemed to be listening intently to. She flushed, eyes going wide as she turned to see Jeffrey shamelessly staring at her. He brought the arm behind her around to play with a piece of her hair, and a grin rose to his face as he watched her face continue to redden at his praise.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. J,” Kylin replied slyly, her southern accent peaking through due to the alcohol. He gave her a smirk and a wink as he wrapped himself around her a little more.

She had been so captivated by Jeffrey that she hadn’t even noticed that everyone had turned to look at the both of them. Until, of course, Norman let out a mocking, “awhhhh” and everyone joined in making kissing sounds. Kylin leaned into Jeff’s side and hid her face with an embarrassed grin. Even with the teasing, it was the most comfortable she had felt in such a situation in a long time. The odd sensation of fingertips touching her skin didn’t make her skin crawl, and she felt like she could speak openly without being ridiculed. She didn’t feel the need to make herself seem small. Kyin lifted her head and looked up to Jeff, the whole group distracted back to their original conversation. She could see something in his eyes that oddly looked like adoration. He cupped her face with his hand that wasn’t wrapped around her, and gently stroked her cheek. He let his thumb run over the scar above her eyebrow, and she felt her lips part as she sucked in a small breath of air. She subconsciously leaned into his touch.

Being the gentleman he was, though, Jeffrey moved his hand away and put a bit of space between them. Kylin was relieved, but also sad at the loss of contact. He cleared his throat as he straightened us both up, moving his arm back to its original place on the back of the bench. Kylin sat upright and took a sip from the glass of water in front of her to wash away the fog in her brain. It was only a few minutes after that the house lights brightened, signaling it was time to pay their tabs and head out.

With it being two in the morning, the October chill had finally begun to set in, and Kylin shivered as they walked down Pearl Street and back to the hotel. Without her even asking, Jeffrey shrugged off his blazer and placed it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” She said as she tugged the warmth closer to her. The smell of his expensive cologne mixed with his natural musk flooded her, the scent just as intoxicating as the alcohol in her system.

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” Jeffrey replied with a deep chuckle when he caught her burying her nose into the collar. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder again as they continued to walk down the street, just a little bit behind the rest of the group.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Kylin slowed herself down in the parking lot and Jeff told everyone he was going to walk her to her car.

“Sure you don’t wanna come up darlin’? You good to drive?” Jeff asked, a hopeful look in his eyes, once they approached her vehicle.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” She replied with a chuckle as she looked down to fiddle with her keyes, “I’m good to drive.”

“Well, alright, then.” Jeff said with a disappointed sigh, “I guess text me when you get home, then. You forgot last time.”

“I’ll try to remember,” Kylin smirked up at him through her lashes. He gave her a huff of a laugh as a smile filled his face. He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace. She curled her arms around his waist as he enclosed her shoulders and placed another kiss on the top of her head. She stepped back after a few moments and shrugged his jacket off in an attempt to return it.

“You keep it for now, gives me an excuse to see you again,” He said as he held up his hands in refusal.

“You wanna see me again, Mr. Morgan? Kylin asked, raising an eyebrow as the smirk still played on her lips.

“If you wanna see me, Ms. Ackles,” He answered, raising his own eyebrow at her.

He opened her car door for her, and she threw his jacket and her purse into the passenger seat before she turned back around to him. She looked at him for a few seconds before she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, “I’d love to.”

The smile that appeared on his face was the sweetest thing she had seen in a long time, and it actually looked like he was blushing a bit. It was strange for her to watch him bashfully back up with and stuff his hands in his pockets as she climbed inside the car. He had always been known for being smooth with the ladies, and was acting like she made him nervous.

She rolled her window down and smiled up at him, “I had a really nice time, Jeff. Thank you.”

He nodded back at her with a grin, and gave her a small wave before turning back to the front of the hotel.

She remembered to text him when she got home.

#jeffrey dean morgan x ofc #JDM X OFC #Jeffrey Dean Morgan RPF #JDM RPF #Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Original Female Character #JDM x OC #supernatural fanfic #the walking dead fanfic

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fountainpenguin · 7 months ago

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"Picture of your face in an invisible locket... I had a bad feeling. But we were dancin'... swaying as the room burned down." (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 32 - “Starve (Etho, Scott)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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I am once again bringing you scenes of Etho cuddling up to SnifferMyFeet while Sniff growls reminders that even though he has Joel's memories and misses being Boat Boys, he wants Etho to treat him as a separate person.

If I had a nickel for every chapter Etho's touched this man and thought of Joel, I would have 8 nickels. I'd have 40 cents. That's as much as 1/4 of our story. And that's terrible.

#smalletho - Etho once again working through his touch starvation and Boat Boys Issues™ Many references to Joel, but he doesn't appear. Large flashbacks of him and Etho in next week's chapter, though! <3

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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This preview section jumps into shippy vibes- Proceed at own discretion.

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Etho - Fox

Status: Holding out a hand

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙 🧡 💚

So, uh. That string tidying, huh? You're setting yourself up for disappointment if you want to do that with an endermite hybrid. They're the best in the business and they'll mock you the whole time you set up. Sniff's smug and giggly about it, too, as Etho pushes him down on the bed and hangs back to study him. He's really tattered the code on the bottoms of his bare feet. I mean, shoe code gets tattered too, but usually those soft parts of a skin design hurt more.

"You gonna use your mouth?" Sniff asks, eyeing him up.

"In a shocking turn of events, the programmer has tools for fixing loose code. They're in the other room." Etho takes Sniff's wrists and pins them above his head for a second, then takes his ankles and stretches them out. Classic textbook pose for the work, even though they'll probably move to the carpet for obvious reasons before they start; he doesn't need weak pixels dropped all over his bed. "Stay," he commands, and Sniff sticks out his tongue and double flips him off without moving his arms. So Etho can't be mad.

But he does lean over, sliding one hand beneath Sniff's cheek, easing it behind his head. He curls it back around and lifts it just enough to scrape his palm across Sniff's brow, beneath his floppy dark brown hair. It's thick and feels like swamp plants in his hands. He still smells like well-treated water. Chlorine. Like one of Gluon's hotel builds with the fancy pools. Or the waterpark server. Never did find out why. Etho breathes against him without pulling back. Despite the wet scents, Sniff's warm soul's like fresh-baked bread against his hand.

"Oh my goodness… You're so pretty. You are so pretty…"

The metaphorical light fades from Sniff's mismatched eyes. Etho pulls back, waiting for a pinch or slap. Sniff turns his face away. Only his Joel side's visible at this angle as he squirms. "Get your eyes checked, Eefo… I saw my reflection when I got my water. I'm stitched together with hand-me-down parts. You don't mean that."

"What if I do, though?" He crouches lower by the bed, bringing a hovering thumb to Sniff's scalp. Sniff glances at him, then away. So Etho breaks that barrier. Slowly, the thick part of his hand eases down to touch Sniff's head. Sniff scrunches up his eyes again, giving the faintest little nod. Etho holds very still a few seconds (Sniff's pixels are so loose on his skin, which was the whole point of this cleaning project anyway) before he speaks again. "I'm sorry you can't see that yet. Body issues are tough; I've got issues too. Sometimes my fox traits get away from me… Been thinking about modding out, but it takes centuries of paperwork." His next stroke of hand (a circle on his head) is firmer, sharper, and Sniff mutters something under his breath as his cheeks freckle up with blue again. Cute. "If it were legal, I'd probably just unthread. I'd miss the bullet paths, but you make vex life look so easy. So good." He draws his hand around in one last loop, then eases it down Sniff's cheek (on his Grian side) to his neck. "Hey, take a closer look next time you're out. There's a lot of interesting people out there. Some wear faces that aren't even humanoid. Have you met MumboDrone or iCam? … And you know, it's just a skin."

Sniff putters his lips, staring towards the ceiling. His fingers lift, dancing across the backs of Etho's knuckles. "You just want me to stay late again. Gods, you're so lonely… Listen, fella- I know my strings are a wreck. I was an endermite before a vex; be pretty messed up if I couldn't tell. I'll let you clean me up, but I'm not playing sleepover. You can't make me."

"Mmhm." Oh man, I want to press my head on yours. He really wants to, noses brushing, hair tufts scraping, but he refrains, you know. He's kneeling, balanced on his heels, and Sniff's saying 'Yes' to the hand but looking unsure. So he won't. "Stay as long as you want to. Just let me clean your code and then you can leave. I promise I won't be mad."

"You smell like bread dough…"

"Yeah? My code wouldn't taste too good right now. Squeaky clean."

"Oh, that's too bad." Absentminded. Distracted. Etho eases back his fingers.

"Are you okay?"

Sniff clicks into focus again and then swishes up, sitting on the bed instead of lying down. "Yeah, thanks. I'm good, actually. The water helped."

"All right. I'll be right back with the cleaning stuff." He leaves without another touch, pausing only to switch off the portal still glowing in the corner. He leaves the desk lantern glowing like it is. It's fun, in the dark. The light's so low, it's like a fox's den in here.

The nice thing about being a programmer? He has no end of scrapers and combs to choose from. He pays the living room a visit to get the tray from the coding desk's drawer and some rolled-up pieces of carpet (ignoring the less than subtle smirks Beef and Pause give him as he strolls by). Etho brings the whole tray to his room and sits on the bed with Sniff, just talking to him and explaining how effective these tools are for different things. Sniff seems to recognize a lot of them, which is no surprise, honestly. Since Joel doesn't do logouts, he has a whole cleaning routine. It takes him forever.

"You know," Sniff says, digging through the tray, "using combs is cheating, actually. I can do the cleaning with my teeth still attached. I bet foxes can too. I mean, it's code work; all the code-eating species can do it." He flicks his gaze to Etho, who kneels across from him, tail waving in the air. Etho doesn't answer, so Sniff goes on. "You know what's fun? 'mite bundles."

"'mite bundles,'" Etho repeats. "Like… Endermites inside a bundle? Is that fun? That's a new one to me." Where is he going with this?

"Yeah, it's when you put endermites in with some of your supplies and go out on adventures. When you want your supplies, you have to dump everything on the ground and try to use your stuff without getting bit. If you get bit, you have to send your coords to server chat. Easy way to get killed, so you'd better not. You can play it in Between, too. Pig has an endermite living in his studio. For every time it bites him, he has to keep his weapons in a chest for an hour when he gets home. It means I can do whatever I want to him, really. Usually he just runs. Sometimes we duke it out bare-fisted. Have you ever seen him with a black eye and a tooth knocked out? Just me, I guess- It probably doesn't carry when he leaves the server. He looks so goofy when he smiles; I'm chuffed to bits with that. Gods, you wouldn't believe the bruise he left on me this one time he pushed me off an end ship. He smirked about it for days, no joke. No, actually. Can't believe his head even fit outside the server."

Etho smirks back, hidden in the mask and hidden by his fingertips. His chin rests against his hand. "What'd you do to him? You didn't let him get away with that, did you?"

"Hell no! I picked up a shulker and I slammed him on the head with it. I bet you didn't even know you can peel 'em off the wall- they're so clingy. What'd he do then? I think he put down a bed and blew himself up trying to get me with it. Oh, he's so lame. I like him so much."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

#smalletho #trafficfic #traffic soulmates #... It's complicated #If you're here for smalletho and slammed into my ''Would you still love me if I was SnifferMyFeet?'' drama. lmao sorry #For better or worse this is what I bring to the fandom table #Recap: Sniff has all Joel's memories (maybe) but wobbly self-restraint and it is weird for both of them so. let's get weird #I cannot emphasize enough how Peculiar this is if you are entering without context so good luck- lmk how it goes :)#It's about Miscommunication (TM). I'm tagging stuff so people can filter out but just to be clear this is Oh No with fluff sprinkles #Y'know. When all else fails and I've listened to many songs and did not find the right one... I know Taylor Swift has got me #This chapter brought to you by whomever gave Etho several dozen combs made of people's teeth (It was Lizzie)#Also the intimacy of bonking foreheads #Dog's Life #Dog's Life art #ridwriting #fic announcement #apparently art #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #Sniff and Pig #mcyt #Pixels Imperfect #ridspoilers #Dog's Life spoilers

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sergeantsporks · 2 years ago

Text

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 24/?: Puppets Vs. Pals

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

Collector stroked his chin. “Hmmmm… What is this new game?”

“Weeeeell, it was a really fun one that Terra used to play with me all the time, called ‘covens versus wilds.’”

“Oh,” King yelped, “I know about this one! Eda… Eda told me.”

Phoenix shook his head. “Obviously, covens versus wilds doesn’t really make sense anymore, so we’ll call it… puppets versus pals.”

Collector nodded. “Huh. How do you play?”

“Well, there are two teams. Puppets, and pals.”

Collector clapped his hands. “Oh, we’re pals! And the rest of the isles… puppets! Easy teams!”

“Close,” Phoenix said slowly, “There’s one more role. It’s the most important role, and if no one does it, then we can’t play the game.”

“Oh, me!” Collector bobbed up and down in the air, raising his hand. “Me, me, me, I’ll do it, I want to do that one!”

“Are you sure? It puts you on the other team.”

“Yes! I want the super important part, I’ll be so good at it!”

Phoenix’s gut twisted.

You’re acting just like him. Tricking some kid into playing your game.

I have to

It isn’t the same, I have to.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Your job is that you are in charge. You’re running the base of operations here. You make sure all the puppets are coordinated. Because team pal’s job is to get out of the archive house and out of your… blue area. And team puppet is trying to get uuuuuuus tooooo…”

“The room! Our bedroom, it’s a good spot. What are the rules?”

“Um… you can’t leave the house, but you can send ALL of the puppets after us. If someone gets hurt, we have to pause. And… you can’t turn King or I into puppets. That’s cheating.”

“Okay! Hey, the yard is kind of big, especially since you can’t fly without me. How about I draw a new area? Look.” Collector clapped his hands, and outside, a wall of light sectioned off a swathe of land around the archive house. “You just have to get past the light wall to win! Okay, are we ready? Three! Two! One! Go!”

Phoenix scooped King up, bolting towards the hallway. Puppets appeared with a pop behind them at “go,” clattering wordlessly. Phoenix skidded to a stop in front of the window over the horn, yanking the glyph Lilith had given him out of his pocket. “We need to clear the skull. Can you break that window?”

“Weh!”

A soundwave blasted out of King’s mouth, and the glass cracked, spiderwebs of white spreading across it.

Tap, tap, click.

A puppet lurched towards them, and Phoenix shuddered. “Time to go!”

He backed up, then took a running leap at the window, turning so that his shoulder hit the glass and his body shielded King from the impact. The glass shattered, and a thousand tiny shards bit into the right side of Phoenix’s body. The two of them slammed into the horn, and Phoenix scrambled for a grip, skin scraping across rough bone.

Come on, come on, come on—

Phoenix’s fingers cracked into the skull, and he and King slid to a stop. “Hah—huh—”

“You just broke bone!” King yelped, “How did you know that would work?!”

“I—was just hoping—I could find—a handhold.” Phoenix stared upwards, refusing to look at how far below them the ground was. “Okay, okay.”

Blue stars whirled down from the archive house, puppets sitting on top.

Don’t think, just do it, don’t think, just do it—

Phoenix took a deep breath, braced his feet against the horn, and pushed off, leaping clear of the skull. King screamed, clinging tightly to Phoenix.

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!”

Phoenix forced himself not to activate the glyph, watching the ground get closer… closer…

He hit the paper, and their fall slowed, the air around them humming and glowing blue. He twisted in midair and landed on his feet. It didn’t matter—his legs gave out the second he put weight on them, and he crashed to the ground.

“We just jumped. Off of the top of the skull. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Ahahaha.”

King’s grip came just on the verge of strangling Phoenix now. “Are you crazy?! It’s just a game!”

Phoenix pushed himself to his feet. “It’s not a game—it’s an escape. Let’s go.” He started towards the treeline—any cover was better than standing in the open, and according to the mental map Phoenix had made of the ‘yard,’ the river was somewhere in that forest.

Click

A hand closed around Phoenix’s arm, and he whirled around, swinging his fist.

Cyrus’ date from the coven day parade stared at him, eyes blank. Phoenix twisted his arm mid swing, barely missing the puppet’s face. The puppet grabbed his arm and pulled, tugging him back towards the archive house, but Phoenix wrenched away, sweeping the puppet’s legs out from under him.

“Someone I know cares about you,” he told the stall owner, “Hold on for him.” He sprinted away before the puppet could get back up, weaving through the trees to break off his line of sight.

“What do you mean escape?” King demanded, “What about Eda and Lilith?!”

“I talked to them, actually. They’re in on this.” Phoenix ducked behind a tree, panting, as a star whirred past. The moment it was gone, he started to run again, ears swiveling to pick up any sound of running water.

“In on this… how?��

“We’re a distraction,” Phoenix lied, “The Collector should focus all of his puppet power on us, which leaves them unguarded. They slip out, we run out of here while the Collector stays in the archives.”

First you lied to the Collector. Now King.

I have to, or he’d never agree to come.

Not that lying to King would last. He’d figure out pretty quickly that Eda and Lilith hadn’t gotten away. Hopefully, Phoenix could keep him from running right back to the Collector to rescue them.

Looking out for his safety? Or your own?

Phoenix shook himself. It didn’t matter. This was what Eda and Lilith wanted for King. They were smart and tough—they’d find their own way out. In the meantime, they wanted King to get out and as far away from the Collector as possible.

“You don’t think the Collector will be suspicious? A game with rules specifically designed to let us run away from him while he has to stay put in the archive house?

Phoenix shook his head. “There’s only ever been one real rule to Covens vs. Wilds. And that’s that wilds can’t win. The odds are intentionally stacked against us.”

“Just like real life covens and wild witches.”

“Just like real life covens and wild witches,” Phoenix agreed, “Anyway, if it seems like a game we can’t win, it’s not so suspicious. And hopefully we’ll be long gone before he figures it out.” His ears twitched, picking up a splash, and he ran towards the sound, eyes constantly shifting across the trees, checking for puppets.

King sighed. “It doesn’t feel right. Tricking him, I mean. Belos tricked him for years, and the owl house game was a trick to get him to save the isles, and now we’re tricking him again.”

Phoenix’s gut clenched. The Collector was dangerous, there was no denying that. But he was just a kid. And if Phoenix and King got away with this, if they managed to run out of his reach… he’d be left alone with Terra. And Odalia.

Phoenix almost pumped the brakes at that thought, tripping over his own feet to keep going.

“I know. But he’s dangerous. And he can’t… he’s holding us hostage.”

“Maybe I should stay.”

“What?!” Phoenix did stop at that, looking around for watching eyes before crouching in a purple bush and letting King down so he could look him in the eye. “You can’t be serious.”

“Eda and Lilith will be safe. The Collector might not chase after the two of them, but he will keep looking for me.” King patted Phoenix’s hand. “I know you have people you want to get back to. So go to them. Splitting up will increase your chance of getting away, and maybe I can convince the Collector to let you go. That way, he won’t be alone, and you won’t have him hunting down your family.”

Phoenix shook his head. “I’m not leaving you behind. And you know Eda and Lilith wouldn’t want you going back either.”

“I’m not asking Eda and Lilith. I’m asking you.”

Puppets clattered by in a gang of ten, and Phoenix waited for them to pass, silent. Once they were out of sight, he heaved a sigh.

“Look. Collector is… complicated. I don’t think there’s a right answer here. All I know is that Eda and Lilith want you out of the archive house. And I’ll sleep a lot better at night if I know you’re not with him and Terra and Odalia all alone.”

King’s eyes seemed to search his face, then finally nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since you and Eda and Lilith planned all of this. But Phoenix, if I decide I want to go back…”

“I might not be the one you have to convince. The others can be… intense.”

“Alright. I’ll keep it in mind.” King scrambled back onto Phoenix’s back. “Let’s go.”

Phoenix pushed leaves aside, checking for more puppets. They’d passed for now, but Collector had the whole Isles worth out looking for them. Not seeing at least one or two out was… concerning, to say the least. He jogged towards where he’d heard that splash, moving southeast.

A wall of light blazed through the trees, so bright Phoenix started seeing spots.

Something grabbed his arm, and Phoenix twisted away, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the light.

I can’t see, but they can.

Smart.

He charged forward blindly, pushing through puppets and shaking them off every time one latched onto his ankles or wrist.

King started to slide off his back, his little claws digging into Phoenix’s shoulders.

“Phoenix!”

Phoenix pivoted, opening his eyes. His shadow loomed out in front of him, the light behind him flickering and making his shadow shudder, spikey horns sprouting from its head and disappearing just as quickly. The puppet that held King tilted its head at him, and he kicked it, grabbing King as it stumbled backwards. He closed his eyes again, running through the curtain of light. The blinding light pressing at his eyelids abruptly disappeared, leaving spots in their wake.

The puppets chattered, then fell into their ‘waiting’ position, joints loose.

“I… guess we won?” King suggested.

A star shot off from the archive house, falling towards them, and Phoenix’s blood chilled.

He’s coming for us.

“We need to go.”

He ran for the river, which he could hear in a dull roar of running water, constantly present now.

“Guys,” Collector laughed, his star skimming the ground next to them, “The game’s over. You won! You can stop running!”

Phoenix could hear King’s heartbeat throbbing against his back—or maybe that was his own heart, beating so hard against his ribs that he could feel it trying to get out.

“Phoenix. Stop running. Stop!”

Collector’s star whirled in front of Phoenix, and he skidded to a near stop, dashing to the side and continuing around him.

“Phoenix,” King’s voice said in his ear, frantic, “Phoenix, it’s not going to work—he’s too fast, it’s over!”

Phoenix shook his head, his breath coming in short, ragged pants, only half from the physical exertion. The forest had turned into a tunnel, with just the river at the end.

Have to keep going

Have to get out of here

Can’t stop

He took Darius

He’ll take King

He’ll take everyone from you

Not again

The ground cracked under Phoenix’s feet, and he crashed to the ground, driving glass shards from the window further into his arm and side.

“Phoenix?” Collector asked in a small voice, “Why won’t you stop running?”

“You have to let me go,” Phoenix gasped, “You have to let me go, Belos, you have to let… me…”

“What. Did you. Call me.”

“I—” Phoenix forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t mean—It just… slipped…”

“What do you mean, go? You’re not trying to leave me, are you?”

Say no! Phoenix’s mind screamed, You can still fix this, just pretend you got caught up in the game!

No. No more lying.

“Yes,” Phoenix told him, “Yes. I want to leave.”

“Wha—why?! I thought we were friends! Friends don’t leave friends!”

Phoenix pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the little glass shards tore at his flesh. “Friends… friends say goodbye, and they go home, Collector. I’m going home.”

Collector stamped his foot, and the ground shook again. “The archive house is your home! With me! Why do you have to go to some other place?”

“I—”

“Do you have other friends? They don’t have to stay at another place, they can come to the archive house. We can all be friends! You don’t have to go! Where are they? I can bring them to the archive house just like that!”

“No!” Phoenix took another deep breath. “No.”

“Why not?!”

“You’ll turn them into puppets!”

“Yeah? That way they’ll be safe?”

“No. No, it just traps them. You have to understand that, you’re not keeping people safe, they’re not your friends, they’re your prisoners! I’m your prisoner.”

He had to understand. He had to—Phoenix didn’t want to hurt the Collector. He didn’t want to lie anymore, he didn’t want to trick the kid, and he definitely didn’t want to fight him. He just wanted to go.

Collector sputtered, crossing his arms. “Nuh-uh! Prison is being put in a disc and being alone forever and ever and ever and not being able to see anyone! No one is alone this way, and no one gets hurt! No one gets old or sick or dies! I’m protecting them, I’m protecting all of them! Why can’t you see that?! It’s not prison!”

Phoenix shook his head. “Prison is keeping someone against their will—and you’re not letting me go. I want to go home. Prove we’re not prisoners. Let us go. If we’re friends, you’ll let us leave. And you won’t follow us.”

Collector’s lip wobbled. “If we’re friends, that means you’ll come back, right?”

He still has Darius

And… I don’t want him to only have Terra and Odalia as company.

“I’ll come back,” Phoenix said slowly. A voice in the back of his mind screamed not to promise that, or for it to at least be a lie, but he squashed that part down. He’d let the others know what had happened to Jason and Hunter. He’d fulfill his promise to Eda and Lilith and get King to safety. And then he’d come back for Darius.

And the Collector.

Collector took a deep breath. “You’re sure you don’t want them to come back with you to the archive house?” he whined.

“I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure you’ll come back?”

“I’ll come right back to the skull and wave to one of your stars to pick me up,” Phoenix promised, “I won’t be gone long.”

“Like, you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Uh… give me a week?”

“That’s forever!”

“Think about it. I’ve been with you for weeks, and my other home didn’t get to see me for all that time. It’s only fair.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fffffffine. Can I send a star with you to fly you back super fast, at least?”

“No.”

“Man. C’mon, King. We’re gonna play some games that only need two players.”

King looked to Phoenix, who cleared his throat. “I was… actually thinking King would come with me?”

Collector froze, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“I was thinking… King… would… come.”

“So King gets to meet your other friends, but I don’t?!” Collector whirled around, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to steal King from me?!”

Phoenix took a step back. “I…”

Say something

Say something!

“You can’t have him!” Collector screamed, “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!”

King floated back towards the Collector, and Phoenix jumped forward, grabbing King’s arms. “No, no, no—”

“Phoenix!”

“I’ve got you, King! I’ve got you!”

I promised Eda and Lilith

I promised King

I can’t let the Collector take him back!

“Mamadalia was right!” Collector howled, “She said you took her friend from her, and you’d take my friend, too!”

Odalia.

She did have another trick up her sleeve.

Collector twisted his finger, and King was jerked forward, dragging Phoenix closer to the Collector. “I said you wouldn’t ever, but she wasright, she was right, you’re nothing but a horrible, no good friend stealer!” His voice rose to a shriek that seemed to pierce Phoenix’s ears, and he was halfway certain if he checked, they would be bleeding. “You were lying about coming back!”

“I wasn’t,” Phoenix said desperately, “I swear, I—"

The Collector tugged again. King cried out, and Phoenix instinctively let go. “No!”

“I! Hate! You! You! Lied! Just! Like! PHILLIP!” Collector held up one hand, and a ball of blinding light formed over his palm.

King’s eyes widened. “Phoenix, RUN!”

A soundwave blasted out of his mouth, throwing Phoenix back towards the river. Phoenix saw the Collector’s magic hit the ground where he’d been, and a moment later, a boom echoed out, and the ground cracked. The shockwave left by the impact threw Phoenix up in the air, and he crashed back down to the ground.

He’s going to kill me

I can’t go back.

Phoenix scrambled to his feet, wheezing for air. Another ball of light sizzled past him on the left, crashing through thick tree trunks. Again, the sound followed moments after, a horrible, cracking, tearing noise. Phoenix bolted towards the river, took a deep breath, and dove in.

The current almost immediately swept him away, pushing him further downstream. Something hissed into the water—another attack from the Collector. The resulting wave sent Phoenix tumbling around in the water like a wet rag, sending the water over the banks. The Collector’s scream of rage disappeared in the roar of the wave.

Phoenix struggled to the surface for air, only to be thrust back down under. Claw up, gulp for air, thrown back beneath the surface in a dizzying whirl of bubbles. Over and over and over and over.

Finally, finally, the wave receded, and the current started to slow, washing him to shallower water. Phoenix stumbled out of the river and collapsed on the bank, retching up water and gasping for air.

He heard the whirring sound of one of the Collector’s stars, and he hauled himself up, staggering towards the nearest cover—a small town. He ducked into an empty house, flopping down on the floor and pressing his back against the wall.

The whirring got louder and louder, then faded into the distance. Phoenix stayed on the floor for a few more minutes, heaving in deep gulps of air. He finally reached up, grabbing the windowsill and pulling himself to his feet. His vision blurred, and he leaned on the wall for support, making his way back outside.

The town was deserted, as far as he could tell—nothing left but a few graffitied messages and an old billboard for… the coven day…

This was the town close to the house. He recognized that billboard, and the build of the houses.

Almost there

Almost…

Phoenix stumbled out towards the trees, barely even stopping to check the skies for more spies. Blood pounded in his ears, and the sides of his vision seemed to fade away, completely focused on the trees ahead and the house he knew lay beyond them.

At least until the ground crunched and cracked beneath him, and in a confusing whirl of dirt and twigs, he was flat on his back, staring up at the sky. Steep dirt walls rose above him, penning him in.

“No!” Phoenix’s voice cracked. He rolled over, staggering back to his feet and jumping for the top of the pit. “No—no, no, no—” His fingers clawed into the soft dirt of the walls, and he slowly slid down, collapsing to his knees. He thumped his head against the wall, sending dirt cascading down to his lap.

I’m so close!

Phoenix curled into a ball, lying down against the earth. His bones seemed to sigh in relief, and his exhausted body told him to stay here forever, to just rest, finally rest.

The sky overhead slowly turned fiery orange, then red, then a dark blue, lit only by the glow of the moon.

And Phoenix heard scuffles in the night.

“Pit three got something,” Hamlet’s voice said, “Good. I was starting to think all the prey got turned into puppets.

Here, Phoenix wanted to call, It’s me, I’m here.

But his voice wouldn’t respond, as if his tongue had died in his mouth. He tried to sit, to stand, to move at all, but his limbs seemed to have fused into the ground, heavy and rooted down.

A glowing ball of light wafted over the pit, and four shadowy forms peered down. “Wait—that’s a witch. We caught a witch—careful, they might be a puppet.”

Something jumped down into the pit, and another glyph lit up. “It’s Phoenix!” Meleager yelped. “Hey—can you hear me?”

Phoenix blinked at him in response, his voice still frozen in his throat.

“Phoenix?!”

“Yeah—he looks pretty rough. Hang on, we’re coming up.”

Meleager drew his finger through the dirt, and something cold formed under Phoenix, pushing he and Meleager up out of the pit. Calloused hands hauled Phoenix up, slinging his arms over their shoulders and bracing his back with their arms. Phoenix stumbled forward with them, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“He’s shaking,” Horus hissed, “Titan—is he going into shock? Breathe, man.”

“Go warn Auric,” Meleager ordered next to Phoenix’s right ear. Footsteps thudded away.

“Oh, yeah—”

Horus wrangled a loop of string over Phoenix’s head, catching in his ponytail. A pendant thumped to Phoenix’s chest, and suddenly, golden light spilled out in front of him from a familiar house surrounded by a familiar fence. Fuzzy blue magic circled the perimeter, blue glyphs that hadn’t been there before glowing on the wooden posts.

“Phoenix is back!” Horus yelled.

The house murmured, and the door swung open with a bang, the hallway behind it filled with shadowy figures. Something flew out and cannoned into him, grabbing him in a tight hug. Phoenix cried out as the force drove glass shards further into his side, and the person wrapped around his waist let go, stepping back.

Mole looked Phoenix up and down, eyes wide and worried. And… searching.

“Jason’s not with me,” Phoenix croaked, “I sent him to the human realm. He’s safe, but he’s… stuck.”

Mole blinked rapidly, eyes welling up, then turned and ran, pushing past the other grimwalkers that were spilling out of the house.

“Mole—” Phoenix let go of Meleager and Horus, stumbling after Mole, but without their support, he only made it a couple of steps before falling.

Meleager caught him. “Alright, big guy. Let’s get you inside.”

“Move,” Venari ordered from the house, pushing grimwalkers out of the way and clearing a path for Meleager and Phoenix. Dozens of eyes tracked his movement, and whispers followed him into the house, fuzzy and indistinct.

Meleager helped Phoenix to the living room, which now featured a medical bench, a couple of cots, and a rack filled with potions and bandages that sat atop a bar counter. Auric was already inside, mixing something up in a bowl, and he pointed to the bench, and a steaming cup sitting on the counter next to him.

“Any life-threatening injuries?” he asked.

Phoenix shook his head. Meleager sat him on the bench and handed him the cup.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” he warned.

Phoenix took a sip. It did, in fact, taste horrible, like someone had put sulfur and spiders in a cup, but it traced a warm track down his throat and pooled in his stomach, warming his whole body and sending a burst of energy coursing through him. His mind seemed to snap back into focus, and all of the dull aches and sharp pains from his escape faded. Meleager took up position in the doorway, planting himself firmly and watching the hallway.

Auric hustled over, reaching for Phoenix’s arm, but Phoenix flinched away before he made contact, holding his arm to his chest. He eyed the other Grimwalker warily.

Auric held his hands up. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing. Mom’s wiped from holding up the illusion around the house all the time, so I’m taking over on medical duty. You’re going to be alright, Phoenix. You’re safe now.”

Safe.

Something wet dripped down Phoenix’s face and he slowly reached up to feel for a head injury. But the liquid was clear, coming from his eyes instead of a gash.

“I…”

“Oh—” Auric’s hands twitched, fluttering around Phoenix’s shoulder without actually touching him. “Hey—it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“King’s not,” Phoenix whispered, “And Collector…”

“He’s not going to find us. We’re really well hidden.”

Phoenix shook his head. “That’s not what I…”

“Phoenix?”

Caleb pushed through the doorway. “Phoenix! I’m sorry we didn’t get you, everything started collapsing, and people were panicking, and we couldn’t find you, and—”

“Belos is dead,” Phoenix whispered.

“What?”

“He’s dead. Collector killed him.”

Caleb blinked, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He took a deep breath, and let it all out in a sigh that seemed to melt his shoulders. “Okay. Okay. I… Hey. Cherry told me you got Jason to safety? Was Hunter with him?”

Phoenix nodded, tears still streaming down his face. He couldn’t stop them. He wasn’t sobbing, or even sniffling, the tears just… kept going. Silently, but steadily.

Caleb reached out, gently brushing a bedraggled strand of hair out of Phoenix’s face. “Hey. You did well. You protected your brothers. You held out against the Collector. I’m proud of you.”

“I think Mole’s mad at me,” Phoenix rasped.

“We’ll work it out. He wasn’t just worried about Jason—he was worried about you, too. And he’ll remember that. For now, let Auric take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Caleb stepped back next to Meleager, nodding to Auric. Auric gingerly took Phoenix’s arm, lifting it up. “Okay—hold this arm steady. Dad can help you keep it up if it’s too heavy, just say the word. I want to get the shards out of your side.

Phoenix kept his arm lifted, and Auric went to work, yanking out glass with tiny tweezers. Phoenix winced at each little knife sliding out, but Auric was quick, and soon he was dabbing away blood and applying salves in quick, easy motions. The cuts went numb, along with most of Phoenix’s right side.

“Arm down,” he ordered, “What happened?”

“Jumped through a window.” Phoenix chuckled dryly. “I’ll have to tell AT that he was right—it was easier than going out the door.”

“Not funny.” Auric pulled another glass shard out of his bicep. “Do not tell… AT…” He froze, staring at Phoenix’s arm.

“What?”

Auric grabbed a small knife and cut off Phoenix’s sleeve, sliding it off of his arm. He wormed the knife under the bandages Jason had tied. “Is this arm the only injured one?”

“I—my other arm was—but I think they sealed up on their own, I haven’t been having any—”

Auric tugged backwards, slicing cleanly through the bandages. He repeated the process on the other side. “You haven’t checked under the bandages since you got them?”

“No. Is something wrong?”

A high-pitched sound of distress emitted from Auric’s mouth, and he slapped one hand over his face. “Sorry—sorry, that was… unprofessional. Phoenix, this is very, very important. How did you get these wounds? Possibly more importantly, did anything get in them after you did?”

“Belos’ claws. I don’t think anything got in them? Jason bandaged them quickly.”

“Okay,” Auric said faintly, “Okay. Dad? Can you… come take a look at this? Just confirm that I’m seeing what I’m seeing?”

“What?” Phoenix asked, “What’s wrong?”

Caleb pushed off of the wall, huddling next to Auric. His nostrils flared, and he whirled around. “Meleager. Get Evelyn. Now.”

“What?!” Phoenix demanded, twisting to look at his arm.

The wound had sealed, alright. It had sealed over in a skin of dark blackish green sludge that oozed and bubbled like tar. Veins of the same color spread out downwards under his skin, creeping towards his hands.

Phoenix gagged, clawing at the covered wound. “Get it out!”

Caleb caught his hands. “Phoenix—Phoenix, leave it. Leave it. Look at me. Evelyn’s coming. We’re going to figure this out. Just take a deep breath.”

Phoenix sucked in a deep breath, dragging his eyes away from the festering wound. “What—why-?”

“Looks like Phillip left a little bit of his cursed form behind when he attacked you. If it’s anything, I’m willing to bet it’s just like an infection in a regular wound from bacteria. It’s just… magical.”

“Let me see.” Evelyn gently pushed Caleb to the side, sitting next to Phoenix. She looked… tired. Her face had thinned, and the circles under her eyes were as dark as Caleb’s. But her hands were steady, and she examined the wound with sharp, analytical eyes. “Hm. Alright, let’s get this out.”

Evelyn drew a circle in the air, and golden tendrils drifted out, pushing into the cursed mud. The greenish sludge started to circle out, drawn up the golden threads in a spiral. The mud reached halfway up the tendrils, and the world tilted. Something roared inside of Phoenix, and he slumped forward. Somewhere, he heard a scream, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Caleb holding Evelyn bridal-style, her body limp.

Auric’s arms encircled Phoenix’s chest, and the grimwalker tugged backwards. “Sit—up—” he grunted, “I’m going—to drop you!”

“Evelyn!” Caleb yelped.

She reached up, gently patting his face. “I’m alive, love,” she said weakly, “I’m okay.” Her eyes slid to Phoenix, sparking with fear. “The infection ate my spell,” she said shakily, “It just… absorbed the magic!”

“It’s Phillip’s curse, alright,” Caleb said grimly. He set Evelyn on her feet, but kept one arm wrapped around her to support her, “Phoenix, you haven’t… felt anything strange? Any pain in your arms? Strain, like you’re falling apart? A… need to consume magic, like palisman?”

Phoenix shook his head. “I didn’t even realize something was wrong until now.”

“Hm.” Evelyn studied him. “Any magical symptoms? Strange dreams? Thoughts that don’t seem like they’re yours? Weird impulses?”

“Not that I can think of?”

Evelyn hissed out a long breath. “Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight… we have a couple of options here. Obviously, how I normally get at an infection isn’t going to work. One option is that we cut it out.”

Phoenix’s gut churned. “Like…”

“Like with knives,” Evelyn confirmed. She gestured at his arms. “But I don’t want to do that unless I absolutely have to because of how much of your arm it takes up and because I don’t know how deep it runs. It would take a long time to heal, and if we’re not careful, we could permanently damage your arms.”

Phoenix gulped. The idea of carving out a chunk of his arms… sure, he’d just tried to claw it out himself, but this was much more serious. And permanent. “And… the other option?”

“We do nothing,” Evelyn said simply, “It doesn’t seem to be hurting you for now, and based on how it reacted to my magic, it might turn hostile if we try to mess with it. So, we don’t touch it. See if your body burns it out like a regular infection, or if it settles into a harmless part of you. We’ll keep an eye on it, but we’ll leave it alone.”

“I… I think I like that one better.”

“You have to let us know if anything changes and it gets worse.” Evelyn jabbed a finger at him. “I mean it. No playing heroic stoicism, mister. If you so much as get an unusual tingle in your fingertips, you let me know. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Hopefully, it’ll clear out on its own. If it doesn’t…” Evelyn shook her head. “We’ll figure it out. For now… we wait.”

xxx

A/N: It is very important to me you guys know that "Phoenix gets Belos Infected due to Belos goop getting into an open wound and in his bloodstream" has been planned in the plot SINCE KING'S TIDE AIRED, and I was SO mad when it happened as a canon plot point.

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #my writing #gilded family au #golden guard oc #king clawthorne #the collector #caleb wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #caleb clawthorne #evelyn wittebane #grimentor

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zerolostwalks · 2 years ago

Note

“Why are you using the ladder like that?” for Julie and her himbos.

Julie braced herself as he hand hovered over the studio doors as she tried to puzzle together what could be happening inside.

She probably could just try and peek in through the windows to see what her ghosts were up to. BUt that would just add extra time if she needed to get in to stop something stupid. Which from the sounds and bits of conversation she was catching was more than likely the case.

“It’s not my fault you forgot it.” Alex groaned, accompanied by some sort of shuffling scraping sound. His voice sounded strained and tighter than usual.

“Well can you try throwing it to me?” Reggie shouted, voice warbling slightly, “I’m not sure I can move.”

Alex groaned louder, “please tell me you’re joking.”

Both their voices sounded like they were coming from above her, so they were probably in the loft. Except, there was something off about Reggie’s.

The curiosity won and Julie entered the studio. Her eyes already toward the direction of the loft widened as more questions unearthed themselves in her mind.

Alex, as she predicted, was in the loft. He held onto one end of her Dad’s old metal ladder, resting parallel to the ground over the loft banister. The other end of the ladder was out over the studio.

As her eyes looked above her, Julie understood why Alex sounded strained

“Julie!” Reggie’s bright shout came from almost directly above, where it appeared he had crawled out onto the ladder like some sort of cat.

Julie gaped as her brain tried to sort and filter through her racing thoughts to determine what would be the best response here. “What are you doing?” She asked, sounding far too casual for the scene she just walked into.

Reggie glanced around him before smiling back down at her. “We wanted to decorate!”

“Decorate?” Julie glanced to the loft where she saw a small pile of assorted garland, lights, and various decorative items.

Reggie made a mostly chirper humming sound, though his eyes were a little too wide and frenzied.

Julie was finally able to unfreeze long enough to vaguely gesture at the ladder, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Reggie shrugged and leaned in a way that made the ladder shift. His eyes briefly widened as Alex made a small shout, then he adjusted his posture again. When he continued speaking it was like nothing had happened at all. “We thought it’d be nice. Make the place a little more festive.”

“No, why are you using the ladder like that?” Julie looked between Reggie as he precariously balanced on all fours-fingers white knuckled as they clung to the metal below him despite his smile-and Alex who leaned across the section of ladder resting along the loft banister, desperately trying to use his full body weight to counterbalance Reggie.

She let out an uneasy exhale. Sure they were ghosts, but they still felt pain for some reason, and who knew what other kind of damage they could cause if that ladder fell. Although it did look like they had pushed as much as they could to the walls of the garage.

The two ghost boys let out high pitched whines. Before they could come up with whatever half baked lie was forming in those heads of theirs she continued on, “I thought you guys could float now.”

“Luke can float now.” Reggie clarified behind a pout as Alex muttered darkly to himself about rule books.

It was then Julie realized Luke was nowhere to be found. She’d gotten distracted by the ridiculous imagery of the makeshift ladder catwalk and sort of assumed Luke had been one of the masterminds behind it.

“Where is Lu-” She cut herself off as Reggie and Alex exchanged uneasy glances, concern wrapped around grief with an edge of guilt. The same look they always shared when toeing around the subject of Luke and his parents. “Oh.”

She shuffled awkwardly, her gaze drifting to the ground again. After helping Luke get Unsaid Emily to his mom-and once a few other things had settled-he’d finally told her the story. It made sense that he'd more than likely be back haunting his parents, especially this time of year.

A sudden loud thud and metallic clanging came from the loft as Alex loudly swore, “Jesus, warn a guy, Reg.”

Julie looked up, intending to look at the loft. She startled slightly when she was met by Reggie sheepishly standing directly in front of her. “He’ll be ok Jules.”

“I know, Reggie.” She said with a weak smile, soft laugh, and a small shake of her head. She wished she believed it more, it was always a bit of a gamble what kind of state Luke would be in after visiting his parents. Then her brows furrowed, “is he gonna be ok with you decorating the place?”

“He said he was fine with it?” Reggie shot a look toward where Alex was now standing, hands in his pockets. The taller boy simply shrugged.

She looked between the two of them and wondered when they’d asked Luke, “Well, why don’t we wait and then we can all decorate together?

Alex and Reggie’s faces lit up with bright smiles, both readily agreeing to the plan.

#julie and the phantoms fanfic #wintery dialogue prompts #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters

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crazypersonmentality · 3 months ago

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The Essential Guide to Choosing and Organizing Your Medicine Cabinet

A well-organized medicine cabinet is more than just a storage space for medications and first-aid supplies; it’s a vital component of a safe and efficient home. Whether you're dealing with a minor injury or managing chronic conditions, having a properly stocked and orderly medicine cabinet can make a world of difference. This guide will walk you through the essentials of selecting the right medicine cabinet, organizing its contents, and ensuring it serves your household effectively.

The Importance of a Medicine Cabinet

A medicine cabinet is a small yet essential part of your home that often goes unnoticed until it’s needed. But when the moment arises—whether it’s a headache, a scraped knee, or a sudden allergic reaction—having easy access to the right supplies can be crucial. Beyond its practical function, a well-maintained medicine cabinet also contributes to overall home safety by keeping potentially harmful medications out of reach of children and ensuring expired drugs are promptly discarded.

Choosing the Right Medicine Cabinet

Size and Placement

The first step in selecting a medicine cabinet is considering its size and placement. Think about where it will be most accessible yet secure. For most households, the bathroom is the ideal location, but it could also be placed in a hallway or main bedroom.

Size: Ensure the cabinet is large enough to hold all your essentials but not so significant that it becomes a cluttered catch-all for unnecessary items. If space is limited, consider a cabinet with adjustable shelves to maximize storage.

Placement: Install the cabinet at eye level for easy access, but make sure it’s out of reach of young children. If you’re installing it in a bathroom, be mindful of humidity levels and choose a moisture-resistant material.

Material and Style

Medicine cabinets come in various materials and styles, allowing you to choose one that complements your bathroom or home decor. Common materials include wood, metal, and plastic, each with its pros and cons.

Wood: Offers a warm, natural look but may require extra care to prevent damage from moisture.

Metal: Provides a sleek, modern appearance and is often more durable, but it can be prone to rust if not correctly maintained.

Plastic: Lightweight and easy to clean, making it a practical choice for busy households.

When it comes to style, consider whether you want a mirrored cabinet, which can double as a bathroom mirror or a simple door-front model that blends seamlessly into the wall.

Features to Consider

Modern medicine cabinets come with a variety of features that can enhance their functionality:

Lighting: Built-in lighting can make it easier to find what you need, especially in low-light situations.

Mirrors: As mentioned, mirrored fronts are standard and add functionality, but some models also include mirrors inside for a complete view while accessing contents.

Locking Mechanism: For households with children, a cabinet with a lock is essential for keeping medications secure.

Organizing Your Medicine Cabinet

Once you've chosen the perfect medicine cabinet, the next step is organizing it. A well-organized cabinet saves time and reduces stress, especially in emergencies.

Categorize Items

Begin by categorizing the items in your medicine cabinet. This will help you quickly find what you need when you need it. Common categories include:

First Aid: Bandages, antiseptics, gauze, and other items needed for minor injuries.

Over-the-counter medications: Pain relievers, cold and flu remedies, antacids, and allergy medications.

Prescription Medications: Keep these in a separate section, clearly labeled, and store them according to the instructions on the label.

Personal Care Items: Some people use their medicine cabinet for items like toothbrushes, toothpaste, and skincare products. If you do, keep these items organized in their own space.

Miscellaneous: Tools like thermometers, tweezers, and scissors can also be stored in the medicine cabinet, but they should be kept organized.

Use Containers and Labels

To keep your medicine cabinet tidy, consider using small containers or baskets to group similar items together. This not only keeps things organized but also makes it easier to remove and replace items as needed.

Labeling shelves or containers can further streamline the organization. For example, you might label one shelf "First Aid" and another "Medications." This way, anyone in the household can quickly find what they’re looking for.

Regular Maintenance

Organizing your medicine cabinet isn’t a one-time task; it requires regular maintenance to stay effective.

Check Expiration Dates: Every few months, go through the contents of your medicine cabinet and check the expiration dates on all medications. Expired medications should be disposed of properly, as they can lose effectiveness or even become harmful over time.

Restock Supplies: Ensure that your first-aid kit is fully stocked and that you have enough over-the-counter medications. Running out of essential items during an emergency can be problematic.

Clean the Cabinet: Wipe down the shelves and surfaces of your medicine cabinet regularly to prevent dust and dirt from accumulating. This also gives you an opportunity to reorganize items as needed.

Safety Considerations

Childproofing Your Medicine Cabinet

If you have children in your home, childproofing your medicine cabinet is crucial. Even if the cabinet is installed out of reach, it’s a good idea to take extra precautions.

Locks: Use a lock or childproof latch to prevent children from accessing the contents of the cabinet.

High Placement: Install the cabinet in a location that is high enough to be out of a child’s reach, even if they were to climb on a stool.

Separate Storage: Consider storing hazardous items, such as prescription medications or sharp objects, in an individual, locked location.

Proper Disposal of Medications

Safe disposal of medications is an often overlooked aspect of medicine cabinet maintenance. Never flush medications down the toilet, as this can harm the environment. Instead:

Pharmacy Take-Back Programs: Many pharmacies offer take-back programs where you can safely dispose of expired or unused medications.

Local Disposal Sites: Some communities have designated sites or events for medication disposal.

Disposal Kits: If you cannot access a take-back program, disposal kits are available that neutralize medications and make them safe to dispose of in the trash.

Conclusion

A well-chosen and organized medicine cabinet is an invaluable asset to any household. It provides a secure, accessible place to store medications, first-aid supplies, and personal care items, ensuring that you’re always prepared for whatever life throws your way. By following the guidelines in this article—choosing the right cabinet, organizing its contents effectively, and maintaining it regularly—you can create a medicine cabinet that will serve your family well for years to come. Remember, the key to a practical medicine cabinet is not just in its selection but in the ongoing care and attention you give it.

#Medicine Cabinet

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maniculum · 2 years ago

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The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Ten

For new people, I’m doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

Still playing catch-up, here’s the next section below the cut.

Oh, and now you can start to see what I mean about this level being annoying to draw.

Room 3.5: f.44v

Lots of stuff on this page that I can’t really use. Grotesques with human faces — no. Two humans and an angel — probably not. Something that I could maybe pass off as another oak squirrel — maybe? Anyway, I finally settled on this:

The door to this room is intact. Technically it’s a secret door, but it’s not exactly well hidden: in case the hallway leading to it doesn’t make it obvious enough, pulling an obvious lever causes the wall at the hallway’s “dead end” to rise into the ceiling. Inside is a high-ceilinged room that is essentially an underground dovecote filled with birds that hate you.

The birds that hate you are entirely normal birds, except that they will immediately divebomb and peck at the faces of anyone who comes in. They are the result of one of Martius’s failed side projects — oddly enough, Martius initially got into the whole grotesque-making thing through his hobby as a pigeon fancier, and often did his experiments with birds as the subject. The birds that hate you are a result of an attempt to create birds with absolutely no fear of humans, which was technically successful, but the resulting birds just fearlessly attack. The kinks still needed to be worked out, but of course things got a bit hectic near the end there.

Martius’s Bolthole

There’s a much more secret secret door in the north wall: extremely careful examination will reveal a small, squarish, magically-sealed door at the corner between the wall and the floor, made to blend in perfectly with the stone. It can be opened with the password Columba; attempts to tamper with it risk setting off a temporal stasis trap. Opening the door reveals a small chute sloping down, just big enough that an adult human lying on their back could slide down it. If the door is opened, there’s a noticeable puff of air, signaling that the interior was hermetically sealed.

Behind the door is a ten-by-ten space that appears to be an emergency bolthole. The contents are extremely well-preserved; the protective magical effects seem to have prevented the usual actions of decay. However, they’re not intact, per se — there was some kind of magical fight here, and the contents were smashed up pretty well. The walls are deeply scored in odd patterns, and marred by something that looks almost-but-not-quite like scorch marks. The furniture — which appears to have been a simple cot, chair, and table — is in pieces. The whole scene is covered in scattered book pages — the parchment isn’t decayed at all, though any ink on pages that are facing up and not covered by something has been faded by the dungeon’s ubiquitous daylight effect on the ceilings, and the books seem to have been… exploded or something. The majority is salvageable, and PCs who collect them will find that the pages originate from three different books:

A manual on pigeon fancying that includes detailed descriptions and illustrations of a number of pigeon breeds. Every page is packed with marginalia discussing the finer points of the hobby, Martius’s personal experiences with breeding pigeons, and use of pigeons as experimental subjects. The reader could probably learn a lot about pigeons in general and mad-science-style arcane approaches to pigeons in particular, assuming they can decipher the cramped scribblings.

A book of poetry. Many lines and verses have clearly been repeatedly scraped clean and rewritten. The margins contain notes for potential revision. None of the poetry is very good.

A high-level spellbook focused on combat spells, both offensive and defensive. The GM may decide what spells are in here specifically; Martius was sufficiently high level that your options are open. However, since so many pages are missing, damaged, or faded, the majority of the spells are incomplete. At least a couple are fully intact if you can collect the pages and put them in the right order. The lacunae could probably be reconstructed with some help from an expert, though that’s a gamble and you should keep a “magical mishap” table on hand. Actually, get that table anyway, in case one of your PCs decides to try out a spell that’s too high-level for them.

I’ve been burying the lede here, because probably the most noticeable feature of this room is the mummified corpse sprawled in one corner. (The flesh is still present for the same reason nothing else in here is decayed; however, the magical effects on this room were insufficient to keep it from naturally mummifying in the intervening centuries.) This is Martius himself, who retreated to this bolthole when everything was going to hell. He was eventually found by Augusta’s vengeful ghost, whose incorporeal nature allowed her to bypass the trap on the door by simply going around it. Augusta ambushed him, and there was a brief arcane duel, the ghost having retained her spellcasting abilities. He probably could have escaped, but he panicked and by the time he would have been able to think things through it was already over. Martius’s keyring is not present — he dropped it somewhere in the chaos before getting into the bolthole, and it was picked up by some explorer or other centuries ago — but he does have some magic items on him. I would give him something like the following:

A staff of transmutation with most of its charges remaining

One major ring of your choice

A few scrolls of high-level spells

A couple major wondrous items of your choice

I think it would be funny to give him an iron flask with, like, an angel trapped in it, because wtf, dude. But that’s just me, and there are probably reasons that would be a bad idea.

Use Pathfinder’s random magic item tables if you don’t want to pick the items yourself, then either remove or reroll anything that makes you think, “how did you not survive a fight with a spellcasting ghost if you had this?” or, “why did you need an emergency bolthole if you had this?” Feel free to give him some really nice stuff — getting into this room should feel rewarding, and the picked-over nature of the dungeon means this is some of the only stuff left from the original occupants.

PCs may or may not notice that, while in the room, they do not experience hunger, thirst, fatigue, or any biological needs. The normal effects of the passage of time are also all put on pause: any disease, poison, &c., they are suffering from fails to have any effect while in the bolthole, as does any other effect that depends on the passage of time. They do not age. However, at dawn each day, anyone within the bolthole gets the benefits of a night’s rest conferred automatically, including regaining spell slots. This occurs regardless of whether they actually rest (and, in fact, sleep is probably not possible within this space).

Room 3.6: f.45r

This room is unremarkable; yet another big square space with the remnants of ruined furniture about. Three pillars support the ceiling A familiar counter-and-cabinets arrangement occupies the whole of the western wall. There is nothing intact there, but a careful search will come up with some shredded bits of lab notes, which could of course be valuable if salvaged. Searching is dangerous in itself, though, because the majority of what’s left in the cabinets are piles of broken glass equipment; PCs will have to be careful to avoid getting cut.

Inhabiting this room are a few twifesuls. A twifesul looks rather like someone has taken the back legs of a donkey and attached two long-necked heads to it directly. It also has a long semi-prehensile tail. They are herbivorous, but bad-tempered and prone to biting.

Twifesul: CR 2, XP 600; N Medium Animal; Init +0; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13 (+3 natural); hp 20 (3d8+6); Saves Fort +5, Ref +3, Will +1

OFFENSE: Speed 40 ft.; Melee 2 bites +5 (1d8+3)

STATISTICS: Str 16, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB +5; CMD 15; Feats Endurance, Run; Skills Sense Motive +3

If the players have not previously encountered Tubilus, they will find him here. Tubilus is a homunculus of a similar design to Fontus (Room 1.20), and you can use the same stats. However, Tubilus has gone fully feral and has no more than animal intelligence. He is also prone to biting.

Room 3.7: f.45v

The ceiling of this room is obscured by stone structures that look a bit like rafters; a number of them are broken. The “rafters” are not to support the ceiling — there are some pillars that do that — but apparently to provide a living space for the creatures inhabiting this room. (Or, rather, that’s what they’re being used for now; it’s hard to say if they used to be something else.)

This room is inhabited by a flock of serpentbirds, creatures like scaleless snakes with avian heads and wing-like structures like those of flying lizards, which coil around the pillars and rafters, occasionally gliding through the air on their membranous “wings”. They’re not aggressive, but they don’t seem to have a particular fear of humans. This is, in fact, because they have a defense mechanism: serpentbirds secrete a contact poison through their skin. You probably don’t need stats for serpentbirds, because they’re not exactly combat threats, but here they are anyway:

Serpentbird: CR 1, XP 400: N Tiny Animal; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +1

DEFENSE: AC 14, touch 14, flat-footed 12 (+2 size, +2 Dex); hp 9 (2d8+0); Saves Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +1

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft., climb 10 ft., fly 30 ft.; Melee bite +0 (1d3-3); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Poison (Ex)

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 8; Base Atk +1; CMB -4; CMD 8; Feats Skill Focus (Fly); Skills Fly +10

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Poison (Ex): Anyone who comes into physical contact with a serpentbird must make a save against poison. The poison in question has a fortitude save DC of 16, a frequency of 1/round for 6 rounds, causes 1d3 con damage, and takes two saves to cure.

Note that serpentbirds, while they have a fly speed, are not capable of true flight: their wing-like membranes only allow them to glide. This means they can never use their fly speed to go up; they can only move horizontally or downwards. In order to go upwards, they have to slither up the room’s pillars.

The skeletal remains of a previous explorer lie on the floor; presumably they succumbed to the poison and the rest of their party, if any, wasn’t able to retrieve them. Their equipment is intact — minus any organic matter such as wood or leather, which has rotted away — including a sizable quantity of coins. Randomly generate the equipment and then double whatever quantity of coins your generator/table suggests; if you need guidelines, he was a rogue of roughly the same level as the PCs. And his name was Deodatus, if that comes up.

Room 3.8: f.46r

This triangular room is another of the high-ceilinged type that emulates an outdoor environment. Several trees grow here. The door to the north is apparent from inside the room, and can be opened by pulling a lever next to it; from the hallway side, however, it appears to be just another stretch of wall, and will require some effort to find a way to open.

The room is inhabited by a few heancorns, bipedal creatures with long, serpentine necks, almost primate-esque faces, long tails, and unicorn-like horns. They eat from the leaves of the trees, in addition to the food brought them by the Caretakers. They are generally docile, but will attack if provoked, and their horns are extremely dangerous. Their unicorn heritage manifests as a few magical effects: they have immunities to poison and mind-affecting spells, they can cast cure light wounds and purify food and drink, and their horn technically counts as a +1 weapon. They’re also a little smarter than one might expect, and qualify as good-aligned for all magical purposes.

Heancorn: CR 4, XP 1200: NG Large Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +10

DEFENSE: AC 15, touch 11, flat-footed 13 (-1 size, +2 Dex, +4 natural); hp 51 (6d10+18); Saves Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +3; Immunities Mind-Affecting, Poison

OFFENSE: Speed 40 ft.; Melee gore +11 (3d6+5/19-20,x3); Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft.; Spell-Like Abilities (CL 6; concentration +7) At Will: Purify Food and Drink; 3/day: Cure Light Wounds

STATISTICS: Str 18, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 4, Wis 12, Cha 10; Base Atk +6; CMB +11; CMD 23; Feats Improved Critical (gore), Improved Natural Attack (gore), Weapon Focus (gore); Skills Perception +10; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

+1 gore (Su): A Heancorn's gore functions as a +1 weapon; the bonuses are included in its stats above.

Room 3.9: f.46v

This room has a similar setup to Room 1.22 — it’s a sort of pool with stairs down into it, and an enchantment that dries anyone who leaves the pool. Like 1.22, one of the walls has an illusory section that you can walk/swim through into another, hidden room. (Sometimes the wizards stole ideas from each other.) The opening in the wall is warded against water and aquatic creatures, but everything else passes through fine. For some reason, there are a number of coins scattered on the bottom of the pool; either someone dropped their coin-purse in here, or a lot of people have been doing the “throw a coin and make a wish” thing.

The pool contains several walasters. A walaster is an amphibious creature with a serpentine body, lidless eyes, a round face, a small beak, large ears, and two finned limbs. They’re not malicious, but something about the way they stare at you is deeply unsettling; there’s a minor supernatural effect attached to their gaze. They can also bite if you get in the pool with them.

Walaster: CR 2, XP 600; N Tiny Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +5

DEFENSE: AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +2 Dex, +1 natural); hp 17 (3d10+0); Saves Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +1

OFFENSE: Speed swim 10 ft.; Melee bite +6 (1d4+1); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Weird Stare (15ft., DC 15)

STATISTICS: Str 12, Dex 14, Con 11, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 14; Base Atk +3; CMB +2; CMD 14

Feats Ability Focus (Weird Stare), Alertness, Improved Natural Attack (bite), Skill Focus (Perception); Skills Perception +5; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits, Does not Sleep, Amphibious

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Weird Stare (Su): There’s just something about the way they look at you. An opponent that meets a Walaster’s gaze within 15ft. becomes shaken for 1d3 rounds unless they succeed at a DC 15 will save. A successful saving throw negates the effect. Each opponent within range of a gaze attack must attempt a saving throw each round at the beginning of his or her turn in the initiative order.

Room 3.10: f.47r

This room is featureless, but a close examination will reveal that there’s a hidden door on the south wall, designed to blend in with the stone. This door opens only at the touch of a Caretaker, but someone who’s clever with these things can probably trick it or force the issue.

Speaking of Caretakers, this room is occupied during the day by Caretaker Five, a construct that resembles a humanoid with webbed feet, shaped from red-glazed clay. It wears a robe that was probably white once, but is now a pale pink — it’s possible the pigment that colors the Caretaker’s body has leached into it a bit. Also it has a long, pointed cap for some reason.

Caretakers not aggressive unless provoked, &c., &c., here’s stats anyway.

Caretaker Five: CR 10, XP 9600; N Medium Construct; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsense 30ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 27, touch 13, flat-footed 24 (+3 Dex, +14 natural); hp 92 (13d10+20); Saves Fort +4, Ref +7, Will +4; DR 10/-, SR 25

OFFENSE: Speed 30 ft.; Melee 2 slams +22 (2d6+9 plus stun); Special Attacks Stunning Attack (DC 25)

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 13; DC 10 + spell level)

At Will — Create Food and Water, Minor Creation, Prestidigitation, Ray of Enfeeblement.

3/day — Bestow Curse, Fabricate, Greater Make Whole, Ray of Exhaustion, Telekinesis

STATISTICS: Str 28, Dex 16, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 10, Cha 1; Base Atk +13; CMB +22; CMD 35; Special Qualities: Construct Traits, Teleport

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Stunning Attack (Ex): Caretaker Five swings with such force that its first attack each round will stun its target for 1 round unless they make a DC 25 Fortitude save. The save DC is strength-based.

Teleport (Sp): Caretaker Five can use greater teleport at will, as the spell (caster level 14th), except that Caretaker Five can transport only objects or creatures that it is physically carrying, up to a weight limit of 500 pounds.

If provoked, Caretaker Five will simply beat a perceived threat into unconsciousness and then drag it to whichever room it decides is the appropriate enclosure. Depending on its assessment of the threat posed, Caretaker Five may begin the fight by weakening its opponent with ray of exhaustion, ray of enfeeblement, and/or bestow curse. Caretaker Five’s slam attacks always deal nonlethal damage unless it has been ordered otherwise; attack penalties for nonlethal vs. lethal damage do not apply.

Unlike other Caretakers, Caretaker Five will not be seen wandering the halls at night; Martius gave it a teleportation ability, so it simply appears in each room on Level Three, does its job, and teleports to the next one. It will use this ability in a fight if necessary. (The original intent was that Caretaker Five could be used to transport large amounts of material around the dungeon without having to drag stuff through twisty passages and up staircases.)

Room 3.11: f.47v

This large circular room is another of the high-ceiling, deep-floor, dirt-and-trees type. It’s actually pretty chill here, because the grotesques on this page don’t look… um… viable.

Seriously, look at that thing.

So the only creatures in here are a flock of pigeons.

I know that doesn’t really look like a pigeon, but we’ve established Martius had a pigeon fixation, so it makes sense that the birds down here would be those.

And there’s Week Ten! Moving right along!

#dungeon23 #college of grotesque arts #ttrpg #medieval creatures #medieval art #marginalia #illuminated manuscript #medieval #pathfinder #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons

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luveline · 2 years ago

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maybe this is too cliche but for the zombie au, what if reader is running low on meds and steve goes out to find her some, because he’s dumb and reckless and doesn’t want her to panic?

baby I love cliche! thanks so much for your request, this is a great idea. i decided to make it so that the meds r needs are not critical but make a big difference to well-being, hope that's OK! ♡ zombie!au | fem!reader

Steve knows he's making a mistake. He's just too bone-headed to turn around and go home. Home as a funny word, home as nowhere permanent, home as wherever you are. He should turn around and march straight back to your side where you're sleeping in a derelict but otherwise secure condo just outside of the Michigan border. He should not be out alone.

He and you have been walking for weeks. It's miserable and exhausting and Steve knows you're not telling him how tired you are. Of course you're tired, as he is, as he imagines every survivor out there is tired of this life.

He scoffs and steps over another smashed bottle. He's not sure you can call this existence a life, anymore. The irony isn't lost on him.

He trudges through the wreckage of a pharmacy about thirty minutes from the condo. Remarkably close. Steve had searched every rest stop along the road you'd followed to get here for usable maps, half too old and simplistic to make proper sense of, the others destroyed by mould or wet or blood. When he'd finally found one yesterday morning — inside the miracle condo, his first stroke of luck in months — he'd immediately searched for a pharmacy. Upon locating it, his plan was born.

Wait for you to fall asleep. Secure the condo. Find your medication.

To leave you asleep and vulnerable isn't the sort of thing he ever wants to do, but he'd weighed his options heavily. Bring you with him, tired and sick and especially open to attack, or leave you behind.

He can't decide if it was the right thing to do even now. He thinks of a geek scratching you in your sleep and has to take pause.

"Fuck," he mutters, wiping his eyes. They start to sting, sweat and dirt rubbed into his bottom lashes.

There's no time to waste. The quicker he can find your meds the quicker he can get back to you.

The pharmacy is pretty badly ruined. He doesn't know where to start or where to look. There's obvious signs of multiple struggles, most anything worth having has been looted.

Steve picks his way towards the appropriate section. He makes no sound that he can't help, practiced now in silent footfall, in holding his arms at a certain height to stop the chafing of his jacket. He tries very hard to remember the exact name that he'd seen on the bottle in your bag, the brand, the specification.

He's stricken when he can't immediately find it. He's put you both in danger for nothing.

A sound echoes from the front of the room.

Steve is immediately on pins, sliding the baseball bat where it hangs from the strap of his rucksack into his hand. Its weight is both familiar and disconcerting.

He holds his breath. The barest hints of daylight stream into the room, the water of a river broken by a thousand rocks. Steve looks between each ray of light and finds only dust, dust, and more dust, motes like pinprick stars drifting between them.

The zombie appears as a dark silhouette.

Steve takes an impulsive, unfortunate step backwards and his bag scrapes the shelving unit. Pill bottles rattle, a minute sound that may as well scream his location in the quiet.

Fuck, he thinks.

There's no telling what kind of zombie you'll be met with. Some are faster, some are smarter, some can smell you from very far away. Like the people they once were, each geek possesses their own strengths and weaknesses.

In life, this one seems to have been an imbecile. Its gory mess of a face looks toward him, looks straight at Steve and his hammering heart, and then looks the other way. He drifts from the room like a grey, disgusting apparition, and Steve's left alone in the room

Somebody grabs him from behind.

Steve shrieks and forces the entirety of his weight down to the floor. It's the first trick you'd taught him, that to be grabbed by the hair is hardly easily escapable, and that your best chance of surviving is to let yourself fall swiftly and fiercely into the force of it. It goes against everything the body desires to do, to move toward the thing grabbing you rather than away, but it always works.

His scalp tingles with shattering pain. His spine aches from the sudden collapse. Above him, a geek turns his dripping maw down to look at him, bloody saliva pooling at the chin. Freshly dead.

Steve scrambles away gracelessly, a half turn, on hands and then up, he stands and brings the baseball bat to his chest. He should run. If he fights this thing the sound might be enough to draw the second, and a second would probably kill him.

But Steve's just spotted your medication.

"Fucker," he says, and snaps the full force of his strength across the zombie's face. Metal bruises its way through flesh like a baton into pear flesh. A depression gets left behind. Steve from before the apocalypse would've gagged.

Steve now takes a second swing.

You're crying with both hands pressed to your face when the door downstairs opens. You immediately choke on your tears, half terror and half hope.

It could be Steve, you think. It could be him. Maybe he didn't leave after all, maybe he just went for a walk, maybe he just-

Of course he left. He was always going to leave. You can't hold him to his promises, because why would he stay? To always look after you? And you've been so tired, so unwell, you've caught him looking at you with this awful unhappy look like he can tell how much of a burden you're going to become.

If it isn't Steve, it's someone else. If it's someone else, you're in danger.

You press your hand over your mouth and try not to breathe. All your things are in the bedroom. If they come in here they'll see what's left. They'll know someone was here, but maybe you'll get lucky. They'll take your stuff and never think to look under the bed. You'll survive.

And then you'll die of starvation.

But if you can drag your things under the bed with you they won't know you're here at all.

You crawl across the floor and breathe hard through your nose, a sluggish tear falling over the slope of your cheek as you go. It falls into the rug, lost forever, and you climb over it. You loop your hand around the strap of your backpack and tug it backward with you, suppressing a sob as footsteps sound up the stairs.

Hidden again, you wait. You hold your breath until your throat burns.

The door creaks open.

"Y/N?" Steve asks. He talks as he always does, quiet and steady. "Are you in here?"

You loose the breath you'd held like a barb. The sound is pathetic, like a crying little kid.

"Y/N?"

You push your bag away from you and crawl out from under the bed, wiping desperately at your tearstained cheeks.

"I thought you were somebody else," you explain quickly, standing on wobbly legs.

You check him over and then avert your gaze, not wanting to look him in the eye, only he's covered in blood. You do a double take.

"What happened?" you both demand, staring at one another in shock.

You press your lips together and wait for Steve to explain first.

He drops the backpack off of his shoulder and unzips it. "I went to the pharmacy. Had to fight a geek for it, but I have something for you."

"What..."

Steve holds out a bottle of your medication.

His hands are white with cold and ice to the touch as you take it. Your ear is ringing.

"Why would you go by yourself?" you ask, numb.

"I don't know if you've noticed, babe, but you're not really up for expedition right now."

You laugh wetly and fight against another oncoming wave with your dirtied shit sleeves. "I'm not that bad."

"No, you are. And that's fine. But hopefully these'll help."

You stare at him, his dirty hair and unshaven face, the blood dried over his jacket and the similar splatters under his jaw. It looks as though he'd tried to wipe away whatever was on his face, iron streaks dissapearing into the shorter hairs of his sideburns.

You're not sure if you're too emotional to see the truth or if you're delusional with sickness or both, but you're almost a hundred percent sure that Steve initiates the hug, and not you.

His arms go over your shoulders. It's a slow, sweet thing, hesitant in his hand placement and the pressing of his cheek to the top of his head. You're not nearly so tentative, desperate for reassurance as you wrap your own arms around his back. The cold clings to him. You rub your open hand uselessly against it, trying to pour every bit of warmth you have into the gesture. Your other hand clutches the pill bottle so hard your knuckles ache.

"Sorry for scaring you," he says, "I would've used the signal, but I thought you'd still be asleep."

You're embarrassed. You want him to forget all about it as fast as possible.

Regrettably, with you and Steve, it seems as though every interaction is its own chapter of an increasingly long book. There's nothing else out there. The desolation and loneliness of your lives has made it so that each interaction is felt in excruciating detail.

Though sometimes that's nice.

His hug seems to go on forever. His arm tightens around your shoulder and his hand encircles your upper arm while the other bunches up the fabric of your hoodie.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're like a Jackson Pollock of gore, Steve."

"What's a Jackson Pollock?"

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and stare at his neck, all his little hairs and pores and skin. "He was a painter. He did, um... splatters. He was quite famous."

To your surprise, Steve still doesn't let you go. He hugs you and hugs you and it's not like he's never hugged you before, he has, usually in similar times of high emotions. But still. He's not exactly tactile. Not with you.

"You shouldn't have- You shouldn't have risked-" You clear your throat. It's a struggle to say it aloud without insinuating a second meaning. "Thank you," you say instead. "I don't know how I'lll..." make it up to you. Make it out of this without you.

"Would you look at the back of my head?" he asks abruptly.

"What?"

"I fell. Think I might've cut myself. Or gave myself a killer concussion, at least."

"Oh no," you murmur, genuinely sympathetic.

Steve and you set down on the bed. He lets you card through his hair, careful, delicate, and search for his injury, a patch of irritated skin and a small lump. You fawn over him and rub a little antiseptic into the wound. Only afterwards when you're laying down to sleep beside him with the door barricaded do you realise what he's done — Steve doesn't care about small bumps or scrapes, he'd let you look after him because he'd known it would make you feel better.

When you're sure he's sleeping, you bracelet his wrist with your fingers. His pulse capers under your touch.

more steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #zombie!au

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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 2 years ago

Text

The Most Dangerous Game (Yandere!Natasha Romanoff x Asexual!Fem!Reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: You, have managed to consecutively allude stalkers who have pursued you before, something you’re pretty damn proud of. However your most recent one is more of a challenge than you bargained for.

(CW: Fighting, violence, blood, teeth mention, injuries, praise of the non-kink variety.)

Author’s Note: It’s been ages since I’ve written anything for Nat, and her Yandere section is looking pretty bare.

detka: baby.

malyshka: baby girl.

Your heart is pounding as you race through the forest while you vigorously rub pine needles on your body to hide your scent in case she can smell it. Adrenaline is all that’s keeping you going right now as you’ve been running for miles.

The one chasing you right now is treating this like a game, one that you never agreed to play. To you this feels like a death game, for your freedom anyway. See, you’ve been single by choice and you want to stay that way, so you’ve trained yourself to trick and/or kick the ass of any pretentious person who thinks they can tame you, especially so easily. However your most recent stalker isn’t one you expected to be so tenacious like yourself.

Now you’re legitimately scared as you hear a set of racing footsteps behind you; it’s her. You keep rubbing the pine needles in, hoping to disguise your growing scent the more anxious and panicky you become, nearly scraping the skin off, turning it red. You need to do something to throw her off of your trail, but what?

Soon you find yourself stumbling from side to side as you begin to feel lightheaded; this gives you an idea. You begin to run in zig-zags, spreading the distance out between each one, forcing your stalker to try to anticipate where you’re going to be. You begin to feel a bit smug and cocky and your hope for escaping her increases. A smile appears on your face and you hold up a middle finger for your stalker. But you become so stuck in your pride that you lose sight of where you’re----

CRASH!

Pain sears through your face as it bangs against the side of a cliff. You hear a crack in your nose and soon something trickles down from it as you stumble back. You feel your eyes well up, but you refuse to let the water works break. All you can do is keep runni--

“There you are....”

An icy chill flows through your body as you hear her voice right behind you. Before you know it, you’re grabbed by the back of your hoodie and whirled around to face the one who’s been stalking you for months no matter what you’ve said or done....

Natasha Romanoff.

She has a smirk on her face.

“I’ll be honest with you, detka; your tenacity is pretty damn impressive. Though I didn’t appreciate that little gesture of yours a minute ago.”

You don’t respond and she continues.

“Now....what’s say we stop this game of cat and mouse and you agree to become my sweet little princess?”

This prompts a glare from you.

“Over my dead fucking body!” you spit.

Nat’s eyes flame with fury as she quickly backs you up against the cliff, the back of your head hitting against it, the searing sting going through you as she grabs the front of your hoodie.

“I don’t appreciate that kind of tone,” she growls.

“You mean the tone you’ve been hearing from me for months?” you chuckle bitterly. “Too bad then.”

“You know, you should be grateful I’m not forcing myself upon you.”

“That’s just called basic fucking respect!”

Out of nowhere, you slam your foot into her chest before decking her on the left side of her face. A tooth shoots out of her mouth along with some blood as she grunts out before retaliating, pushing you back against the cliff. You grunt as the pain returns in spades.

“You know I hate using violence on you, detka,” Nat snarls. “But you need to learn your place in this world.”

“My place is wherever I damn well choose!”

“Your beauty says otherwise,” she smirks as she gets closer to your face; you can soon smell the blood. “It’s one that drives me insane. But you’re lucky I’m patient and considerate---”

“Says the bitch who’s slammed me against this cliff twice now,” you interrupt in fury.

SLAM!

Make that three times.

“You know,” you croak out with a bitter chuckle. “For someone who claims she hates using violence, you sure do use it a lot.”

“Maybe if you were a sweet girl like you’re supposed to be,” she spits. “I wouldn’t have to.”

“Oh, so you’re blaming me for your actions. When you’re the one who’s gonna give me a shit-ton of brain damage. That’s such a pretentious thing to do. You’re just like the others. So pretentious and arrogant, always thinking you know best for me. Well guess what? You don’t. You really fucking don’t! You try to take the fight out of anyone like me that doesn’t fit your ideal because you feel entitled to. You ever considered that some of us just wanna be on our own?! No, you don’t! Because you don’t give a fu--!”

WHAM!

Suddenly you feel a sharp kick to your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you and causing your knees to buckle. You drop to the ground, wheezing and clutching your diaphragm as your head lower. A squeaking cry escapes you as your eyes water up, and that’s when you realize; you’re tired. You’re tired of running for your freedom, you’re tired of feeling anxious about which person is gonna go after you next. You just wanna feel safe and loved.

Meanwhile Nat picks up and pockets her tooth before noticing how weak and vulnerable you look, a side of you she’s never seen before. It’s absolutely adorable and brings out her protective side. Her eyes soften up and she sits down beside you.

“It’s okay, malyshka,” she coos gently, hugging you close, prompting no objections or resistance from you. “You’re safe with me....I’m sorry I hurt you, but I promise that’ll never happen again. I promise I’ll treat you like a princess. All I ask is that you let me protect you, let me keep you safe. Will you let me?”

You look up at her with puppy dog eyes and nod. She smiles and pets your head.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she whispers. “My sweet little princess.”

A soft smile appears on your face, the pain lessening. You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to experience all of that anxiety anymore. Now you have someone to keep you safe.

“C’mon.” Nat stands up before leaning down and picking you up bridal style. “Let’s go back to my place and get you cleaned up. Soon I’ll be able to show off my little princess to everyone.”

You blush when she says this, leaning in closer to her. Your eyes flutter shut as your exhaustion catches up with you.

It’s all over now.....

[Okay, so I took out the a/b/o stuff. Even if it’s not sexual, I guess I’m just not comfortable about it just yet.]

#yandere natasha romanoff #yandere natasha romanoff x fem!reader #yandere natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #yandere marvel #yandere avengers #marvel #Avengers

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mamachu · 3 years ago

Text

Yandere profile - Ningguang

I should probably be writing something else for once but I needed to get the ideas out 💁🏽‍♀️. I also tried writing more but u can see I gave up like halfway through for some of these

Not proofread, I die like a pussy

Template by @cinnamonest

Warnings: fem/afab reader, pronouns aren't mentioned however, Dubcon, noncon emotional abuse/manipulation, physical abuse, abuse of power, hints to anal (?)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

-Ningguang is an incredibly perceptive yandere. Always 3 steps ahead of you, always able to create solutions to problems on spot if needed. Her yandere behavior won't appear immediately, at first she approaches you with normal courting methods- promises of luxury will sprout from her deceiving tongue as a way to swoon you.

-Under the assumption you reject these advances, Ningguang will have expected it. She actually considers it a good thing knowing this means you'll be harder to break down, exactly as she wants you.

-She eventually becomes aware of the obsession that sparks with you. Her patience begins to thin when she sees you interact with other Liyue residents, going on about your life. You're not of high class and don't have a good supporting job. She doesn't understand how you're so okay living in such a state, and it's what interests her about you at first.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

-Straight up kidnapping is used as a last resort. There are many ways Ningguang can gently persuade you into staying with her in the Jade chamber, you can only refuse to let fate guide you for so long until it happens.

-suddenly your life becomes worse than its ever been- getting fired from whatever job you had originally, barely scraping by with any mora you can muster up at that point. When you sit to reflect on your options her eyes meet yours for only a second. The Tianquan only appears to be passing by to outsiders but you know she's trying to get to you- And if you're smart enough you'll give in to her as she pleases. Unless of course you'd prefer those debts to pile up.

-One of her assistants will send you the invoice and escort you directly to Ningguang to discuss your choices, but as you hear the soft lock of the door behind you, you'll know you won't be leaving anytime soon.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

-Ningguang has her eyes and ears everywhere. She may keep you on a tight leash but you're still allowed momentary freedom around the harbor if you please, do well to not take advantage of this. Even simple commoners watch your every move, waiting on the chances to sell you out to her.

-Every attempt is another privilege taken away. Eventually you’ll only be allowed out of your room in the jade chamber at specific times, always under max supervision be it her most trusted assistants or Ningguang herself. She completely isolates you from everyone else for what feels like hours, you can plead as much as you want but what's been decided has been done. Let this punishment be your reminder to get your act together- or she'll strip you of the things you love most without a second glance.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

-Goodluck trying to out-manipulate the manipulator. She understands your goals and simply ignores whatever attempts you have at deceiving her, the rare moments where she does hear you out only end in the situation turning on yourself.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

-As mentioned in the escape section, as long as you're being supervised you may still venture within the harbor. Ningguang has the resources to keep you on her leash regardless of where you go so it isn't considered that big of a deal. She knows you're smart enough to not try and leave Liyue with all the eyes so ready to turn you in.

-You're treated so well as long you behave, dressed in lavish clothing and properly taken care of daily. You'll never have to worry about any financial state while you stay with her. Listen to her rules correctly and get rewarded with whatever you please.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

-Ningguang has no reason to get her hands dirty. Everyone knows that she owns you, nobody is stupid enough to make any advances on you. Ningguang is confident enough in her own ability to manipulate people, they all fall so easily under the pressure of money.

-Even if it ever does come to that much of an extreme, Ningguang still has her ways to make people disappear without any suspicion. Happy little accidents happen to those who get too close.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

-It's almost annoying how hard it is to truly get her to show signs of genuine anger. You're never in possession of anything you can break or take away from her (at least not easily), and she perceives your harsh and damaging words as ways to try and get at her.

-Your actions are seen as temper tantrums and never taken seriously, she'll mockingly coo at you as if you're a disobedient child in need of a lesson on your behavior. It's not as if you're her enemy so why bother wasting any exertion on you?

-But she'll definitely become annoyed if it happens too often. Why won't you give it up? Can't you see this is getting nowhere? It's a bit scary seeing how smiley she becomes, that crease in her eyebrows makes you slowly back away. Perhaps you've dug yourself too deep.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

-It hurts seeing how she treats you so lowly, almost as if you were more of a pet, a dog to be exact. She considers you below her in every shape and form yet yearns to chase you and take you as hers. It confuses you to no end but it's better to not press her on the subject. She gives you enough as it is even for your status and yet all you do is disobey her.

-It's better to keep your mouth shut. Just nod and smile when you receive your gifts, rest your head softly on her lap while you sit at her feet to show you're truly obedient. Her hand will sew themselve nicely through your thoughtless head.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

-Ningguang understands herself that you'll never truly love her. All the riches and gifts thrown your way were always ploys to try and brainwash you. She hopes that one day, you finally submit and give your entire being to her.

-She'll crack you down piece by piece until you've been fully stripped of any will to reject her. Every puppy needs it's training and she'll have you pliant and loving for her soon enough.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

-Probably how lenient she can be with you. Most yanderes wouldn't even want you stepping foot out their doors- yet Ningguang has enough confidence to keep track of your whereabouts even if not closely near her.

Nsfw warning

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

-Ningguang's touch is always lingering on your skin, her calloused fingers will move aside the silk that hides you and dig in as if you were some meal served on a platter. It's never often yet it happens everytime she truly has you to herself. She provides so much for you, it's in your right to serve her when you can. Use your mouth when you sit beneath her as she focuses on her work and you'll be rewarded handsomely afterwards. Maybe she'll feel generous enough to take you properly.

-Generally speaking, despite how self centered she can be, Ningguang prefers to indulge only when she sees that you're needy for her. She takes pride in knowing she got you like this, whether you admit or not, and it's taken as a sign you're finally giving in to her.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

-Don't make her have to disregard your wants completely, it's better to bow with compliance and let her do as she pleases. She is the one in power and shouldn't have to tell you twice.

-Disobedience always comes with discipline. It's fine, she'll act like she cares about whether or not you comply and give you a closed eye smile walking away. Perhaps you just need a little push. You don't notice how she's snuck something into your tea until that tightening feeling makes it way down in between your legs and your eyes start to gloss over. Ningguang smiles so slyly as you crawl your way to where she sits.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

-You'll feel like a pet. More specifically a dog. Ningguang loves having you sit at her feet with your head gently rested on her thighs. It doesn't matter what you're doing during this position, whether it be sexual or not, it still manages to turn her on. The feeling of having you below her sends her on a power trip. She wants to see more of your obedience and all of your reactions to her requests.

-of course it's not as if you have to grovel at her feet like a dog all the time. Ningguang enjoys dressing you up, the finest satin and silk patterns all created for your leisure. She wouldn't want you looking some person of poor status after all, especially not next to herself. But her favorite part about it has to be the way you look in it underneath her. The clothe is always made see-through enough for her own personal viewing. She likes watching you do mundane tasks around her quarters as she pretends to be focused on her own work. You don't catch the little smirk she has whenever you bend slightly over to adjust the uncomfortable clothing.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

-Ningguang herself doesn't dwell into the topic of children often. She may see them as too much to handle and they may get in the way of her work, handling you on it's own is already enough anyways...

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

-In her opinion, her methods are quite old fashioned but they work. She'll have you sit on your knees apologizing profusely with tears flowing out of your eyes, hoping to get at least some kind of sympathy out of her yet it all goes in vain once you feel the harsh crack of the riding crop on your bare skin. Sometimes she'll make you count for how many ways you've upset her- letting the treatment get harder everytime you mess up or stumble on your words.

-This one is a bit more painful, having yourself stretched out on her own self made rocks. She'll restrain you before she does it, letting your cries fall on death ears as she inserts it in. How big it is and where it goes depends entirely on the thing you've done to displease her, which varies often so pray you haven't gotten yourself caught on a particularly hard day of hers.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

-Ningguang wouldn't be able to decide, there's so much of you to mark and love. It depends on her mood, maybe your legs stand out the most to her a specific night- or maybe your wrists look too good being restrained that way. Either way she'll always cherish whatever part it is as if it were the rarest delicacy of her findings.

♡

#ningguang x reader #yandere ningguang #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #Mooshin #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw abuse

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theharrowing · 2 years ago

Text

Sun Seeker 🌻 2: I’m starting to think I would do anything for you

Namjoon does not do impulsive. He doesn’t understand the fuss about body modifications, and he has never considered getting one. That is, until he meets Yoongi—the prettiest man he’s ever seen, who happens to be a tattoo artist—and he can’t stop thinking about going under Yoongi’s needle to have an equally pretty design tattooed onto his skin.

🌻 Namjoon x Yoongi

🌻 word count: 12.8k

🌻 strangers to lovers, tattoo shop au, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

🌻 warnings: flirting, mention of sex and kink, kissing, dry humping, lots of anxiety. side TaeKook.

🌻 written for the Namgi World Tour Fest!

🌻 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading

🌻 posted sept. 2022 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

It takes exactly ten minutes after sitting down to dinner with Yoongi for Namjoon to spill his water on both the table and his leg. Namjoon scoots back quickly, scraping the feet of his chair against the worn hardwood floor, exclaiming a string of curse words and loose vowels as the water drips from the edge of the square wooden table and down past his knees.

The restaurant Yoongi brought him to is a hole-in-the-wall barbeque spot with a square grill that takes up the bulk of the table space. Foolishly, Namjoon had set his water to the right of his plate and promptly knocked it over while using his hands to explain something that has suddenly wiped itself clear from his mind.

Yoongi appears to be fighting for his life. It's clear that he is trying his hardest not to laugh, eyebrows knitted and lips pursing and stretching. He stands like a man who is ready to help but completely at a loss—stiff limbs and open palms—and when a server hurries over with a towel, Yoongi takes it from him, thanks him, and rounds the table to begin tending to the water that Namjoon can only look upon in horror.

Namjoon can't seem to find the words to say. "I'm...I'm so—"

"Clumsy," Yoongi supplies with a smirk, squatting with a hand on Namjoon's knee to blot at the water on the floor.

"Yeah. Shit."

"Are you good?" Yoongi asks, running a dry section of the towel over Namjoon's shin before glancing up at him with a smile. "Do we need another towel?"

Time seems to slow as Namjoon stares down at Yoongi in an attempt to process what he has asked him, and then he shakes his head slowly. "N-no, thanks, hyung."

Yoongi stands, using Namjoon as leverage and walks the towel back to the server. When he returns, his face breaks, and he practically falls into his chair with laughter. Namjoon can only watch him in silence, feeling completely mortified. Meanwhile, the spot on his knee where Yoongi touched him still feels warm.

"Hyung, I'm—"

"Amazing," Yoongi rasps, holding onto his stomach as his laughter subsides and comes out in short bursts of wheezing. "You're like a big, sweet golden retriever. It's endearing, don't worry; you don't need to be embarrassed."

"Oh," Namjoon responds, shifting in his seat as he scoots back to the table. "Well, I promise you that I am very embarrassed."

Yoongi shakes his head and leans forward, elbows on the table as he chuckles through his words. "I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have laughed. You just seemed so lost. You spilled your water, and all systems logged out."

Namjoon chuckles to himself and rubs his hands over his eyes and temples. The laughter dies and Yoongi studies Namjoon, grazing his bottom lip between his teeth—a movement which Namjoon does his best not to watch too intently. Despite the overwhelming urge to crawl into a hole and die from mortification, Yoongi's presence is calming, and Namjoon sits back in his chair in an attempt to relax.

"We can go somewhere else and pretend that never happened," Yoongi offers with a grin. "Just start over. New names, new identities and a fresh glass of water. Nobody has to know."

"Hyung," Namjoon whines. He needs to move past the incident altogether. With a sigh, Namjoon mutters, "I need a beer," and Yoongi calls their server over.

"We need a pitcher of beer and a bottle of soju," Yoongi says to the server, chuckling as he adds, "and please set all of that in front of me. Thank you. We still need a moment to decide on food."

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and stares Yoongi down, waiting for the server to leave the two of them. Yoongi notices and rolls his lips between his teeth as if trying to bite back a smile.

"Yes?" Yoongi finally asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Nothing," Namjoon mutters, dramatically raising his eyebrows, too. "I'll just remember this, hyung. That's all."

Yoongi's mouth falls open, and he leans forward to softly grumble, "What? You don't have a humiliation kink?"

"No," Namjoon responds through a burst of laughter. "I do not."

"Ah, okay." Yoongi sits back and cocks his head to the side. "Good to know."

Silence settles between them, and they watch one another with soft, curious smiles. Namjoon knows the moment alcohol touches his lips, he'll have a hard time keeping all of his thoughts at bay, but Yoongi seems to be on the same page as him and is brazen enough to pick on him while casually bringing up humiliation kink, so perhaps getting a little looser lipped is just what he needs. On the other hand, Namjoon is stone sober and already fighting the image of Yoongi on his knees before him, wiping spilled water off the floor, so perhaps alcohol may make him say things he will come to regret. He is willing to take the chance.

The server returns with a tray of glasses, a pitcher of beer and a bottle of soju, and he sets everything directly in front of Yoongi, as instructed. Yoongi grins, clearly pleased with himself and Namjoon returns an unimpressed glare as Yoongi gets to work pouring their drinks.

"So you're a music producer," Yoongi says, glancing briefly at Namjoon over the pitcher in his hand as he fills a frosted glass.

"I am," Namjoon responds, letting the grumpy facade slip as he leans forward to accept the glass Yoongi hands him across the table. He takes a long, slow drink, letting the cold carbonated liquid ease the nerves that are still on edge. Then he sets the glass far enough to the left side that he can't possibly knock it over by accident.

Yoongi follows the movement, bites back a smile and proceeds to fill the second glass with beer. "What made you want to get into the music business?"

Namjoon reaches over the grill, plucks the soju bottle from in front of Yoongi and shakes it. Yoongi sets the pitcher of beer down and stands to place the small soju glasses in front of Namjoon.

"My goal was to be a rapper," Namjoon says as he cracks the bottle open. "I even made a couple mixtapes and got some college stations to play a couple of the tracks. But the company that signed me was impressed with my production skills and offered to send me to college so I could join the team."

"Wait, so you have an album out there?" Yoongi asks.

Namjoon sets the soju bottle down to the right, between the two of them, and hands a small cup to Yoongi. "I do," he mutters with a smirk, delighting in the way Yoongi's face lights up.

Yoongi takes the soju cup and holds it suspended above the grill. "And I get to listen to your songs, when?"

"I don't know, hyung," Namjoon sighs, pretending to be shy, "it's pretty personal."

"You've seen my art," Yoongi responds with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrows.

Namjoon shrugs, turns to the side and shoots his soju back. The liquid simultaneously cools and warms him, filling him with the faintest tingle of intoxication. "Everyone who walks into the shop has seen your art."

With a scoff, Yoongi shoots his soju back and sets his glass down. He leans over the table and mutters, "Are you calling me a slut, Namjoon?"

"If the shoe fits, hyung," Namjoon responds, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Yoongi's mouth falls open, and he croaks out the beginning of a response but is cut off as the server approaches. They hadn't discussed what they want to eat, and both quickly look over the menu.

"Beef bulgogi and pork belly?" Yoongi asks, glancing over his menu.

Namjoon nods, "That's good to start."

The server switches on their grill and walks away, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi to watch each other some more. Namjoon can tell Yoongi has something on his mind, and he wonders just how many buttons he will have to push to get the pretty man to open up. Or, Namjoon thinks, perhaps Yoongi responds well to direct confrontation. Only one way to find out.

"What is it, hyung?" Namjoon asks, leaning onto his elbows on the table. "You look like you have something on your mind."

A smirk tugs at Yoongi's lips. "I have a lot on my mind, as a matter of fact."

"Oh? Care to share?"

Yoongi watches Namjoon, eyes slowly searching his face. Namjoon isn't sure what he expects Yoongi to say, but his heart skips a beat when he mutters, "I like you, Namjoonah."

Warmth blooms in Namjoon's chest and rises quickly to his cheeks, and he reaches for his beer, pulling it to his mouth. "Is that so?" he asks before taking a drink. Yoongi nods.

The server returns and begins placing meat on the grill. Meanwhile, Namjoon and Yoongi gaze at one another. Namjoon's mind races with things he wants to say, but Yoongi's warmth and beauty are so disarming he finds it difficult to put anything to words.

Namjoon does fine whenever supplying a response is easy, such as being asked about what he does for a living. But as soon as he opens his mouth to tell Yoongi he likes him too, words jumble and twist, becoming a useless pile of nonsense. The server has already left, and all Namjoon can do is gawk at Yoongi.

"You look like you also have something on your mind," Yoongi says with a teasing tone.

Namjoon hums and nods. "Guilty."

"Well? Care to share?"

The jumble of thoughts and feelings flood Namjoon all at once. Flower petals, crashing waves, drowning, overwhelming, floating, pretty, pretty, so fucking pretty, soft, sharp, the desire to kiss and kiss until he can't breathe.

Namjoon takes a deep breath and simply says, "I like you too, hyung.

"Good," Yoongi responds with a smile. He reaches for the tongs and scissors and begins to organize the meat and flip thinner pieces that seem to be cooking quickly.

Once again, Namjoon finds himself mesmerized by Yoongi's hands. Having a front-row seat to watch them in action proves to be more dangerous than Namjoon could have imagined as Yoongi makes quick yet delicate work of organizing the grill. He is certain it is not the meat that his mouth waters for.

Namjoon grabs his beer and drains it slowly, setting the empty glass down, all the while watching Yoongi's deft fingers control scissors and tongs. A deep, rumbly chuckle pulls Namjoon's attention away, and he finds Yoongi watching him with his head cocked.

"Are you staring at my hands, Namjoonah?"

"Yes," Namjoon blurts, feeling the nice warm fog of intoxication cover him.

"Care to tell me why?"

The thought of actually telling Yoongi what goes on in his mind nearly makes Namjoon laugh. Instead, though a smirk, Namjoon says, "I just think...your hands are very talented, hyung."

Yoongi's mouth falls open, and he stares at Namjoon long enough for a blush to sneak up his neck to his cheeks. Namjoon is at the point of feeling tipsy where he has less and less of a filter, and he hardly feels ashamed when he says, "Wow, you're even prettier when you blush."

"Kim Namjoon," Yoongi says, pointing the scissors at Namjoon with a playful glare.

"Min Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon responds, cocking his head.

"I'm cutting you off. You've had enough beer."

Namjoon grins, "What are you going to do if I drink more? Stab me with those dull kitchen shears?"

Yoongi drops the scissors on the table, grabs the half-empty pitcher of beer, and holds it close. "I can deny you."

This makes Namjoon sit back against his chair and laugh. "I'm stronger than you are, hyung; your idle threats mean nothing."

"You're sure about that?" Yoongi asks as he sets the pitcher aside and reaches his hand out for Namjoon's plate.

Namjoon grabs his plate and holds it out, keeping his eyes on Yoongi, who appears increasingly flustered as he distributes meat between their dishes. Namjoon lowers his voice to ask, "Care to find out?"

The corners of Yoongi's mouth quirk, but he keeps his attention on his task until the grill is empty. Namjoon sets his plate down and reaches over the table to grab the beer pitcher away from Yoongi and fill his glass.

"Taehyungie didn't mention you get so bold when you drink," Yoongi mutters.

Namjoon perks up in attention and sets down the beer pitcher close to Yoongi. "What was that?"

"Hmm? Nothing," Yoongi says before drinking the rest of his beer and refilling it, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon.

"You've been talking to Taehyungie about me?"

Yoongi chuckles and glances up. "Maybe."

Everything looks and smells amazing, and Namjoon feels frozen in space, unable to decide which is more urgent: getting more information from Yoongi or eating. He decides to give Yoongi a moment of reprieve and begins wrapping meat and bits of pickled vegetables into a perilla leaf. As soon as Yoongi takes a bite, Namjoon digs in.

The first bite of food is so good, Namjoon groans and sits back in his seat, reveling in the flavors. Not that he's ever had bad barbeque; it's a simple meal, all things considered. But it's the perfect blend of savory and spicy, and it was served to him by Yoongi's pretty hands.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, looking at Namjoon expectantly.

"Perfect, hyung," Namjoon responds before shoving the rest of the wrap into his mouth.

They eat silently for a while, only muttering from time to time about how good the food is. Yoongi checks in to make sure Namjoon has enough to eat, and once the grill is empty, the server comes back to ask if they want more, only to return a moment later with round two. Yoongi tends to the grill while Namjoon stands to grab Yoongi's soju cup, and he busies himself by pouring them a drink.

"So," Namjoon says with a grin as he stands to place Yoongi's cup of soju on his side of the table. Yoongi glances at Namjoon, then back at the meat. "You were saying something earlier about how you talk to Taehyungie about me..."

Yoongi hums and cracks a smile, then sets down the tongs and scissors and picks up his soju. "Cheers to our friend Taehyung," he says.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and lifts his cup, tapping it against Yoongi's and shooting it back. Now that the beverage is less chilled, it's more pungent, making Namjoon scowl.

"I may have asked him about you," Yoongi mutters quickly as he picks up the tongs and begins flipping over thin strips of beef.

Namjoon grins and sits back, attempting not to look as smug as he feels. He watches Yoongi, waiting for him to continue, and each time Yoongi sneaks a glance at Namjoon, flowers take root inside his ribcage.

"You're staring at me again," Yoongi grumbles.

There's a soft shyness to Yoongi that makes Namjoon's head spin. Yoongi with tattoos covering his hands, arms and neck. Yoongi, with his eyebrow and lip piercings, who looks and sounds so sharp and rough around the edges. Namjoon wants to pull him into a firm embrace and pet him until he purrs.

"Just waiting for you to continue," Namjoon responds.

"I'll need more beer before I begin confessing to you, Kim Namjoon."

Namjoon raises his hand and calls over a server, feeling giddy as Yoongi leers at him incredulously. He orders another pitcher of beer and makes quick work divvying what is left of the old one between the two glasses, filling each a little under halfway.

When the server returns to exchange their empty pitcher for a full one, Namjoon finds Yoongi sitting with his arms crossed, tonguing the inside of his mouth. Namjoon fills their glasses to the top and sing-songs, "Drink up, hyung."

"I have to drive, you know," Yoongi says as he drinks from his glass.

"Ah, right," Namjoon responds, realizing he's not sure where they are. "I walked to the tattoo shop, but I don't know where we are in relation to my apartment now."

Yoongi grabs the tongs and motions for Namjoon to give him his plate. "Your apartment is within walking distance of my shop?"

"It's about a twenty-minute walk."

Yoongi hands Namjoon his plate, freshly stacked with meat, and Namjoon sets it before him and waits for Yoongi to serve himself. "Do you live far?" he asks.

"Nah, also walking distance," Yoongi says. "But the bakery I got those donuts from is in the opposite direction, which is why I drove."

Giddiness is quickly replaced by guilt at the revelation that Yoongi went out of his way to get them treats that nobody ate. "Well, now I feel bad that we abandoned the donuts."

Yoongi shrugs. "We can go back for them after this if you're up for dessert. Or Jeongguk will eat them in the morning."

Namjoon likes the idea of returning to the shop for the sole purpose of sitting amongst Yoongi's artwork and eating donuts, but rather than expressing his interest, he decides to tease him.

"Ahh, I see what this is," Namjoon responds playfully. Yoongi raises his eyebrows, and Namjoon continues. "You did all this to get me alone in the shop later."

"Totally," Yoongi responds sarcastically as he sits back and reaches for a leaf.

"Taehyungie must have told you we had sweets before we arrived, and you used that knowledge to your advantage. You're very cunning, hyung. I'm impressed."

Yoongi nods slowly, then has a bite of his food, and Namjoon takes this as his cue to dig in. Once again, they eat without saying much, and Namjoon keeps their beers topped off. By the time they're finished with their food and sitting back with satisfied groans, the beer pitcher is a little over half empty.

They decide to abandon the rest of the pitcher, and after a heated round of bickering over who gets to pay for the tab, Yoongi stands and makes his way to the register without giving Namjoon any more opportunity to argue. Namjoon considers taking chase and strong-arming him away from the counter but decides that after dumping his water all over himself, he's already caused enough of a scene for one evening. Instead, he downs the last of his beer and joins Yoongi near the door.

"Are you sure you're good to drive, hyung?" Namjoon asks as they approach Yoongi's car. Yoongi isn't stumbling, and he doesn't seem to be drunk, but Namjoon wants to make sure.

"Yeah, I'm good," Yoongi mutters as the doors to his car unlock.

Namjoon opens the passenger side and slides into the seat. Yoongi's car has a musky, citrus smell that makes Namjoon feel at home, and he sinks back, comforted by Yoongi's presence.

"I guess you didn't drink enough beer to confess, then, hmm?" Namjoon teases, turning his head to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi stretches his arm behind the passenger seat as he looks behind him and backs up just enough to pull out of the parallel parking space. The proximity of his arm makes Namjoon's stomach swoop, and he can't help but study Yoongi's slight frown as he concentrates. There's a playful glint to Yoongi's eyes as he glances at Namjoon before pulling his arm away and shifting gears.

"I asked Taehyung about you after the first time he brought you to the shop," Yoongi says as he pulls onto the road.

Happiness spreads like wildfire across Namjoon's face, warming his cheeks. All he can bring himself to say is, "Really?"

Yoongi hums. "He mentioned you weren't into piercings or tattoos and that he had only brought you to the shop to meet Jeongguk. So, you can imagine my surprise when you kept coming back."

"I went back hoping to see you," Namjoon says, watching intently as Yoongi's eyes drift toward him before returning to the road, and the edge of his lips upturn.

"I was hoping you would say that," Yoongi confesses softly. He chuckles and shakes his head, and Namjoon hums as if to ask what's on his mind.

"When Taehyung mentioned out of the blue that you wanted to get a tattoo, I almost didn't believe him." They pull up to a stop light, and Yoongi turns slightly, smiling at Namjoon. The red light filters through the windshield, casting a pretty pink glow over Yoongi's skin.

"I thought he was just finding some silly roundabout way to give me your number," Yoongi continues. "I hesitated before contacting you."

"Wow, hyung," Namjoon grins, "you almost missed your shot."

Yoongi shakes his head and turns his eyes back to the road. The light turns green as Yoongi mutters, "I would have asked you out eventually."

Namjoon feels powerless to do anything but sit and stare. Yoongi watches the road intently with a small smile tugging at his lips, then pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park. Yoongi shuts off the ignition, turns to Namjoon, and nods toward the shop as he mutters, "Here we are."

Here we are. Namjoon lets the sentence settle in and take up space inside his chest, keeping his eyes on Yoongi's pretty face just a beat longer. Then he smiles to himself, undoes his seatbelt, and gets out of the car. The sound of Yoongi's door closing is heard as Namjoon moseys slowly to the entrance of the tattoo shop.

At night, a red neon TATTOO sign hangs bright in the window, which is covered by black curtains—a lone beacon for what's hidden inside the otherwise plain-looking brick storefront. Yoongi walks ahead and unlocks the door, holding it open for Namjoon.

Namjoon enters the dark shop, taking only a few steps through the door so Yoongi can close it and turn the lock. Then, light comes to life slowly, left on a dim setting that Yoongi controls beside the door. Namjoon makes his way toward the counter where the donuts are and sits on the leather office chair on the opposite side.

"Just make yourself at home," Yoongi mutters as he grabs the bag containing the pastry box, leans over the counter and plops it in front of Namjoon.

"Don't mind if I do," Namjoon responds with a grin as he watches Yoongi walk through the shop, spinning around in the chair for the best view. Yoongi grabs the large matching leather chair from his desk and wheels it over, pulling it close to Namjoon's side. Air puffs from the cushion as Yoongi practically throws himself into the seat.

Now that they're alone again, Namjoon feels a swell of anxiety beginning to grow in his tummy. Sure, they were flirtatious in the restaurant, but what if Namjoon says or does something that comes off as too forward? Or what if Yoongi wants something Namjoon isn’t quite ready to give? He doesn't want to make Yoongi uncomfortable.

"Namjoon," Yoongi grumbles, and Namjoon blinks, only to realize he has once again been staring.

Namjoon clears his throat. "Yes, hyung?"

But how could Namjoon look anywhere else when Yoongi is so close and so pretty? It's as if Yoongi has placed Namjoon under some kind of enchantment, and all he can do is fall for him.

"What's on your mind?" Yoongi rasps.

Namjoon shakes his head, studying the slow twist of Yoongi's lips—pouty and pink. He wants to suck Yoongi's lower lip into his mouth and taste honey and metal.

"Nothing," Namjoon mutters.

Leather creaks as Yoongi leans toward Namjoon. His heart pounds, and he watches as Yoongi's eyes search his face with a curious smirk, down to his lips and back.

"You're thinking about nothing while gazing longingly at my lips?" Yoongi clarifies.

Namjoon's mind wanders, and he curses both chairs for having wheels. If only he could grab Yoongi by the hips and pull him onto his lap—but with his luck, they would topple over or knock into something important.

Yoongi lets out a soft, raspy chuckle and shakes his head as he sits back in his chair. "It's too easy," he says under his breath.

"What is too easy?" Namjoon asks, voice low, almost dreamy, as if he's caught in a trance.

"Making you blush," Yoongi responds as he reaches for the bag and unties it. Namjoon, admittedly, has already forgotten about the donuts.

Anxiety turns to confidence at Yoongi's words, and Namjoon leans forward, crowding Yoongi's space. He drops his voice even lower as he says, "How can I help it when you're so fucking pretty?"

Yoongi's fingers pause on the edges of the closed white box. "Pretty, hmm?"

"Very."

Abandoning his task, Yoongi cocks his head and keeps his eyes on Namjoon. "Keep talking like that, and I'll have to kiss you."

Namjoon's breath hitches, and he does his best not to show how affected he is by Yoongi's words. "Is that a threat?"

With a nod, Yoongi flicks his tongue out, delicately playing with his lip ring, making Namjoon's head spin as his eyes follow the movement. He leans in again, crowding Yoongi's space more as the chair groans beneath him.

"Then I guess I have no choice but to continue."

"Dying to kiss me, hmm?" Yoongi teases.

Namjoon nods, feeling his cheeks flush at the admission. He fights the urge to advance on Yoongi and crush their lips together, containing the burning fire that threatens to consume him. He likes drawing it out and building the tension—he wants Yoongi to want it.

"It's crossed my mind a few times."

Yoongi's eyes are wide, pupils blown and focused on Namjoon like a predator that has cornered its prey. "It has?"

Namjoon nods, and Yoongi asks, "When?"

A rich, woody musk mixed with a sweet, citrus hint that Namjoon has come to identify as Yoongi makes its way to Namjoon’s nose, and he breathes it in, letting it settle over and calm him.

Namjoon hums, pretends he’s giving it some thought, and says, “The second time I saw you. And every time after that.”

Yoongi scrapes his teeth gently over his lip ring. “The second time?”

Namjoon nods and hums, feeling his smile bloom wide.

“Not the first time, though?” Yoongi teases.

Namjoon shakes his head. “Nah, I was too intimidated to get a good look at you the first time.”

“And now?” Yoongi asks.

Slowly, Yoongi reaches out and stops just before touching Namjoon’s cheek, and Namjoon can swear he feels warmth radiating from him. Namjoon doesn’t shy from the advance, and Yoongi gently brushes over the apple of Namjoon’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, sending a shiver through Namjoon that leaves him in a shattered exhale.

Namjoon nods slowly. “Yes, and now.”

Yoongi’s fingertips trail delicately to Namjoon’s neck, over his pulse point, and gently press. Yoongi grins. “Your heart is pounding.”

Namjoon nods again.

“Because of me?”

“Yes,” Namjoon all but whispers.

Yoongi leans in close, warm breath ghosting over Namjoon’s face, causing a fluttering in Namjoon’s tummy. Yoongi opens his mouth, possibly to speak, and his chair rolls back just enough to make him hang his head and laugh, dropping his hand from Namjoon’s neck to his shoulder. Namjoon breaks, chuckling and licking his lips while trying to wrap his head around the kiss that may have been.

In a swift movement, Yoongi stands, sending his chair rolling away behind him, and he grabs onto Namjoon’s grey shirt and tugs on it—a silent request for Namjoon to get to his feet. Namjoon obeys and stands, and Yoongi guides him to turn and lean into the counter.

There is no comfortable way to position himself against the edge of the countertop, and he doesn’t want to put too much weight against it, but he leans enough for his butt to meet the varnished wood and reaches for Yoongi’s white shirt to pull him close.

Yoongi straddles one of Namjoon’s legs and opens his hands flat over his chest. At the angle Namjoon is at, he would have to lean forward to meet Yoongi's lips, so he stands tall, keeping himself just out of reach.

“Are you gonna kiss me, then?” Yoongi grumbles, leaning closer. “Or are you gonna make me beg?”

Namjoon gently grips onto Yoongi’s waist. “Well, now that you put it that way, hyung...” he teases.

A deep, raspy whine comes from Yoongi, and Namjoon slides his hands up his sides and down to his hips. If that is what it sounds like when Yoongi is needy, he definitely wants to drag this out a little longer.

“Please,” Yoongi groans, low and impatient.

"You have the cutest moles," Namjoon says softly, trailing his gaze between Yoongi's nose and cheek, where two tiny brown spots grace his pale skin. Yoongi squints and grips Namjoon's shirt tightly with a huff.

Namjoon can't help but feel smug as he mutters, "So pretty," reveling in how quickly Yoongi's eyes widen once more.

"You're killing me, Joon," Yoongi whines as he leans close, resting his chin on Namjoon's chest. He bats his eyelashes and pouts, and Namjoon nearly caves.

"Joon, hmm?" Namjoon asks, raising an eyebrow at the new nickname. "Cute."

With an exasperated huff, Yoongi lets go of Namjoon's shirt, shoves at his chest, and turns to walk away. Namjoon chuckles, mutters, "Get back here," and reaches for Yoongi's wrist, tugging him to turn around and stumble into Namjoon's chest. Yoongi gasps as he twists and loses his footing, and Namjoon hardly gives him a chance to get his bearings before he leans forward, takes Yoongi's jaw delicately in his hand, and crashes their lips together.

Yoongi lets out a confused, high-pitched hum that blends into a moan, and Namjoon smiles against his mouth before gently sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and flicking his tongue over Yoongi’s small, metal lip ring. A gasp falls from between Yoongi's lips as he flits the tip of his tongue against Namjoon’s and snakes his arms around Namjoon’s neck, pulling him close.

Namjoon spreads his legs wide and welcoming, giving Yoongi all the room he needs, and Yoongi eagerly takes what is given, leaning into Namjoon until their chests are flush and their kiss is deep—heated and needy. He wraps his arms around Yoongi's waist and presses one hand against the small of Yoongi's back while the other glides up to gently cradle his head.

The back and forth of licking into Yoongi's mouth, and retreating his tongue to allow Yoongi to lick into his, has Namjoon floating above the clouds. Everything is light and sweet with hints of bitter beer, and Namjoon doesn't ever want to stop kissing Yoongi now that he's begun.

When Yoongi finally does pull out of the kiss and gives a crooked smile with his swollen, spit-slicked lips, Namjoon lets out a pleased sigh and returns the smile, lost in how pretty Yoongi is and how good he feels being this close to him. Yoongi doesn't back up far enough for Namjoon to see his whole face, so Namjoon stares at his lips.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken," Yoongi mutters in a teasing tone, "but I think you might have a crush on me, Joon."

Namjoon chuckles and squeezes his arms around Yoongi. "How could you tell?"

With a shrug, Yoongi licks over Namjoon's lips and says, "Just a hunch I have."

Namjoon parts his lips, but Yoongi doesn't advance again. Instead of diving in for another kiss, Namjoon rests his forehead against Yoongi's and closes his eyes. He breathes in Yoongi's scent and waits for him to make another move, enjoying the silence in his arms.

"So," Yoongi says after a pause. He clears his throat and plays with Namjoon's hair, sending a shiver down his spine. "My place or yours?"

Nervousness creeps up Namjoon's throat, and he swallows it down, worrying that the flowers in his chest may begin to wilt before they've had a chance to bloom. He hates this stage of getting to know someone because it always feels like he's letting them down. But, as much as Namjoon really enjoys Yoongi's company, this is moving fast, and Namjoon doesn't do fast.

"Oh, uh—I—uh, I don't do hookups." Namjoon winces, hating the sound of his voice and how difficult it is, suddenly, for him to speak.

A few seconds of silence hang between them, and Namjoon feels so overcome with worry that his palms begin to sweat. He opens his mouth to ramble out more of an explanation when Yoongi simply says, "I'm not looking for a hookup. I really like you, Namjoonah."

Though Yoongi's words make Namjoon happy, they do little to calm the dark cloud of worry that hangs over him, and he begins to ramble. "I like to wait until at least the third date, you know? Make sure the connection is really there. Not that I don't think you're genuine, I just, I don't know, I worry about moving too fast."

Namjoon's heart beats heavily, and despite Yoongi saying he really likes him, he can't help but worry if his old-school notion of needing to date a little more first will push him away. Yoongi takes a step back, leaving one arm still dangling over Namjoon's shoulder, and he smiles—a soft, pretty expression that soothes some of his nerves.

"Two things," Yoongi says, lifting his index finger. "Number 1, despite inviting you to take this makeout session elsewhere, I do not only have sex on the mind. Would I dick you down in a heartbeat if you wanted that? Absolutely. Would I let you bend me over my tattoo bench if that’s what you desired? God, yes. But that is not the goal."

Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to groan about how brash Yoongi is, and Yoongi holds up a second finger as he presses both against Namjoon's lips, effectively shutting him up.

"Which brings me to number two. I am more than happy to wait until we've gone on three dates before we do anything more. We can go on one hundred dates if that's what you need. And, if we decide to get more serious, we can continue to do anything but have sex if that's what you prefer. I just really like you, and I want more of you, and I'm not fussy about what having more of you entails."

Namjoon nods and presses a kiss against Yoongi's fingers, feeling the flowers begin to open up. He is not surprised that Yoongi is so patient and kind, but he is grateful. That alone makes him think that perhaps moving things a bit faster would be okay.

"I don't think I'll need one hundred dates with you, hyung," Namjoon says as Yoongi frees his lips and returns his arm around his neck. Namjoon pulls Yoongi close and wraps him in a hug, resting his chin on Yoongi's shoulder. "I already feel a connection between us, but I also want to make sure we're on the same page and that we're not just rushing into things. And...well, I wasn't sure if you were interested in dating...but I was too nervous to ask."

"I respect that, Joon," Yoongi says as he nuzzles his nose against Namjoon's neck, sending a ticklish shiver through him. "I absolutely am into dating you, though, for the record."

A sigh of relief huffs between Namjoon's lips, and he hugs Yoongi close, breathing him in. Yoongi tangles his fingers into Namjoon's hair and leaves lazy kisses along his neck.

"So, two more dates, then?" Yoongi asks against Namjoon's skin.

Namjoon hums and nods his head.

"Any chance you're free for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Namjoon repeats with a chuckle. He leans back just enough to catch a glimpse of Yoongi's face—flushed with a soft rosy hue. "Want to get those last two dates knocked out quickly, hyung?"

Yoongi nibbles on his bottom lip, smile fading slightly. Namjoon wonders if he's second-guessing what he's said—if he's worried Namjoon will think he's trying to move things along too quickly despite explicitly saying he needed time.

"As a matter of fact, I am free for breakfast," Namjoon says before Yoongi has a chance to take it back.

"It's not too soon?" Yoongi asks, confirming Namjoon's suspicions and setting butterflies aflight inside him.

Namjoon shakes his head and pulls Yoongi close, leaving a soft, reassuring peck on his lips. "We could even knock out date three tomorrow evening if you're not too busy."

Yoongi's eyes widen, and his lips tug into a grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I happen to have nothing scheduled for tomorrow."

"Good," Namjoon responds, nibbling on his bottom lip. Three dates in two days is fast. It's impulsive and lacks all the foresight Namjoon prefers to have. But Yoongi feels safe and genuine, and Namjoon decides he wants to take that chance.

Namjoon wakes up with a smile, hugging his pillow close. Yoongi, who lives surprisingly close to Namjoon, walked him home last night and kissed him against his front door until they were exhausted and Yoongi had no choice but to go home. Namjoon had exactly enough energy to clean his tattoo and apply some of the cream that Yoongi gave him, and after that, it was a battle to keep his eyes open for the remaining five whole minutes it took to receive the text that Yoongi had gotten home. After wishing Yoongi goodnight, Namjoon wrapped his arms around his favorite pillow and fell asleep within minutes, thinking about him as he drifted off.

Beside him, his phone dings to life with notifications, and Namjoon smiles and reaches for his phone. His smile fades somewhat when he discovers the texts aren't quite from the man he wants to hear from, but he delights in getting a chance to talk about that man a little.

Tae Tae 🎁 How was your dinner date 😉😉😉

Namjoon I think I'm in love

Tae Tae 🎁 😱😱😱 dasfhaksjfWAIT WHAT

Namjoon can't help the wide, bright smile that tugs on his lips. Thoughts of Yoongi watching him over the dinner table and kissing him against the shop counter flood back, and Namjoon hugs his pillow tighter, nuzzling into the soft yellow fabric.

Tae Tae 🎁 I was joking! I thought you were just getting dinner and drinks casually as friends???????

Namjoon Why didn't you warn me Yoongi is such a flirt?

Tae Tae 🎁 WHAT

Namjoon From the moment we sat down to eat he was so snarky and playful.

Tae Tae 🎁 HE WHAT

Namjoon I didn't stand a chance, Tae. I'm a weak man.

Tae Tae 🎁 WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

Namjoon You okay?

Tae Tae 🎁 NO I AM NOT OKAY

Namjoon Get well soon! ❤️

Tae Tae 🎁 I'm coming over. We have THINGS to talk about. I'll bring breakfast!!!

Namjoon Sorry, Tae, can't do breakfast! I have a date this morning.

Namjoon's phone rings, shining brightly with Taehyung's face, and Namjoon chuckles and lets it go for a couple more seconds for dramatic effect. He doesn't have a chance to mutter, "Hello?" before Taehyung shouts, "I need answers!"

"Ask away," Namjoon says.

"Start from the top. How did everything happen?"

"Well," Namjoon says, clearing his throat, "it all began when my best friend took me to this tattoo shop to watch a pretty boy stab a hole through his skin."

"You are insufferable," Taehyung interrupts with a huff. "Fast forward. Jeongguk and I left, and then what?"

Namjoon deflects. "Did you two leave intentionally?"

"I...don't know what you're talking about, hyung."

Namjoon hums. "Interesting. So when Yoongi was outside, and then Jeongguk got a mysterious text that made both of you act suspiciously moments before you made some excuse to leave...that was all a coincidence?"

Taehyung's tone is one that he gets when he's been cornered—a little lower than usual, with the words coming out muttered. "What other explanation could there be?"

"Yoongi asked you two to leave," Namjoon suggests.

"Wait, did he tell you about that?" Taehyung blurts.

Namjoon laughs, hearty and loud, and says, "I knew it! Wow, you guys are not sneaky at all."

Taehyung mutters, "Shit," under his breath, then says, "Wait, so you and Yoongi have another date?"

Namjoon hums. "After he finished the tattoo, we went to get something to eat. He had brought donuts, but I mentioned that we only had sweets that day, so he suggested we eat a proper dinner. We had some beer and soju, and then Yoongi convinced me to go back to the shop and eat the donuts for dessert. But we, uh…never ate them."

"Wait, so at what point did it go from being a casual hang out to a date?"

"Not sure," Namjoon responds, playing everything back in his head. They flirted over dinner, and Yoongi said he liked Namjoon, but nothing was really spoken until the car ride back.

"There was flirting over barbeque. And in the car back to the shop, he confessed that he had been asking you about me. Which, honestly, I am shocked you were able to keep a secret."

"Wow," Taehyung responds, sounding scornful.

"But then at the shop, I kissed him, and—"

"You kissed him!" Taehyung shouts.

Namjoon hums in response, nibbling on his lip.

"You kissed him?" Taehyung reiterates with emphasis.

"Yup," Namjoon responds.

"Wow. You are a changed man. I don't even know who you are anymore. Can we get lunch, then? Or will you be at your new boyfriend's house all day?"

Namjoon clears his throat and does his best to ignore the word boyfriend being thrown around. "I could do a late lunch. Just in case I get caught up at his for a while."

"I can't believe this is happening," Taehyung mutters. "The man who I said goodbye to at the shop last night is not the man I speak to today."

Namjoon's phone vibrates in his hand, and he pulls it away, noticing a notification from Yoongi. "Hey, I gotta go, Yoongi's up."

"Yah, I'm not done asking questions!" Taehyung shouts indignantly.

"There will be plenty of time for that later. I gotta go."

Namjoon hangs up on Taehyung mid-unintelligible grumble and rolls onto his back as he checks his message from Yoongi.

Yoongi 🌻 You up? I was thinking about cooking breakfast if that's something you might be interested in?

Namjoon I am up, and I am interested.

Yoongi 🌻 Hey, handsome 🙂

Joy bursts warm in Namjoon's chest—flowers bloom to life.

Namjoon Hey, pretty 🙂

Yoongi 🌻 My house or yours?

Namjoon Yours? I don't cook much, so I might not have everything you need.

Yoongi 🌻 Sounds good. Give me 30 to shower and then head over whenever? I'll send you my address.

Namjoon Perfect.

Namjoon bursts out of bed, throwing his powder blue and pastel yellow bedding into a heap. He showers fast but thoroughly, thinking about what Yoongi might wear, and what he should wear to eat breakfast with Yoongi, and whether or not Yoongi will have his hair tied back, and what kinds of food Yoongi might want to cook for him.

He brushes his teeth with his lips pulled into a smile, remembering how good Yoongi felt in his arms and against his lips, then he spreads cream over his sunflower tattoo, thinking about how talented and amazing Yoongi is, and towels his hair, wondering if Yoongi would like it if he styled it at all, before deciding to leave it to dry normally while he returns to his room to find an outfit.

After some fussing over deciding if he should show up in something more formal and fitting, he feels that might be weird. So, Namjoon puts on a marigold orange short-sleeve button-up that has white rickrack daisies sewn on, leaving it unbuttoned over a tight white tee, and puts on some loose but fitted jeans, spinning in the mirror to make sure they hug his butt just right.

It has been thirty-five minutes since Yoongi said he needed thirty minutes, and Namjoon paces around his room. He doesn't want to seem too eager, but he's sure Yoongi knows he's eager, so he wonders what there is for him to worry about. There's a voice in the back of Namjoon's mind nagging at him for taking things fast and not thinking them through, and Namjoon decidedly ignores it and thinks about Yoongi's pretty lips instead.

And maybe things are going too fast. Maybe they are doing everything too soon. But nobody has ever made Namjoon feel the way Yoongi does, and Namjoon doesn't want to let him slip away.

Namjoon I'm ready, hyung. Should I head over?

Yoongi doesn't respond immediately, and Namjoon continues to pace. He knows Yoongi is getting ready and does not want to overthink it, but his nerves are livewires buzzing with electricity, and he is afraid to explode.

Yoongi 🌻 Yes! I can't wait to see you! 🙂 Please hurry before I go insane!

As if Namjoon's smile could possibly get any wider, it does. To play down his excitement, he opts for teasing.

Namjoon It's okay if you're not ready, hyung. I can wait another thirty minutes.

As soon as Namjoon hits send, he sprints into his living room, slides across the floor and nearly barrels into his front door as he bends and reaches for a pair of Nikes that match his marigold shirt. Putting them on is a precarious feat as Namjoon opts out of sitting on a flat surface and, instead, hops on one foot at a time as he slides on and ties each shoe.

Yoongi 🌻 Namjoonah. Get here before I change my mind.

Namjoon Wow, threatening me already on our second date. Not a good look, hyung.

Yoongi 🌻 😐

Namjoon grabs his keys from a hook beside his door and gives his apartment one last glance as if to make sure everything is turned off, despite having turned nothing on, and then locks up.

Namjoon I guess I could see what Taehyung is up to since he would never threaten me. He invited me to breakfast, but I turned him down.

Yoongi 🌻 Turns out I only made enough hollandaise sauce for one, anyway, so have fun with Taehyung!

The morning is cool, despite it inching closer to noon, and Namjoon sets out in the direction of Yoongi's place, checking his map app to be sure. He can't believe his luck that they live in the same neighborhood—he wonders if they've crossed paths before.

Namjoon Is that so?

A persistent buzzing in Namjoon's hand surprises him, and he realizes Yoongi is calling. He once again lets it go for a few seconds for dramatic effect before answering.

"Have you called to threaten me some more, hyung?" Namjoon asks snarkily.

"Actually, I was hoping to guilt trip you," Yoongi responds. His voice sounds deeper than Namjoon remembers, sending a chill through him. "Or, perhaps gaslight you. Whichever gets you here faster."

Namjoon chuckles and glances up at the street sign, then takes a right.

"Wow, so many red flags, hyung!"

Yoongi hums and says, "They're yellow at best."

Namjoon smiles widely. "Good thing yellow is my favorite color, I guess."

"So you'll reconsider and come over?" Yoongi asks, sounding hopeful.

Namjoon hums dramatically as if he has to give it some serious thought. A glance at the sign at the end of the block indicates to Namjoon that he's about halfway to Yoongi's place. "Maybe. What's in it for me, again?"

It sounds like Yoongi scoffs. "Aside from my amazing company?"

Namjoon hums.

"I happen to be a great cook. And I seem to remember you liked the way I kissed you, so I was hoping to offer you some more of that."

"Food and kisses. Alright, that's a good start. What else?"

The call ends. Namjoon almost doesn't believe it until he pulls his phone from his ear to find the screen black. He laughs and shakes his head, then checks the upcoming street sign and unlocks his phone to make sure he's still going the right way.

Before Namjoon can open his maps app, a text comes in from Yoongi. It's his face from a downward angle, and he's pouting with his pretty lower lip sticking out, metal ring prominent in the center. Yoongi could be wearing a shirt, for all Namjoon knows, but Namjoon wouldn't be able to say what color it is.

Goosebumps cover Namjoon's skin, and he nearly walks into a man coming around the corner—has to stop in his tracks and fumble backward, apologizing. The man doesn't care, but Namjoon becomes acutely aware once more of the effect Yoongi has on him, and he can't help but blush over how much the man makes him swoon.

Namjoon switches to his maps app to find that once he crosses the street, he'll be at Yoongi's apartment. His heart begins to pound, hands get a slight quake, and he takes a deep breath. Namjoon double-checks the address, then calls Yoongi back. Yoongi answers on the first ring but doesn't say anything.

"So pretty," Namjoon says softly, grazing his teeth over his bottom lip.

"Too bad the man I took that pretty selca for is standing me up," Yoongi grumbles.

Namjoon looks both ways and crosses the street. His pulse is so heavy in his chest as he glances up to the building to his right and confirms the address. "Is that so?"

Yoongi hums.

"I guess you'll just have to forget about that jerk, then," Namjoon says as he walks up the stairs to Yoongi's building. Someone comes barreling out the front door with their hands full, and Namjoon shifts to grab the door and hold it open for them, then takes the opportunity to enter the building.

"Is that so?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon hums.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Namjoon hums. "What would you like to do?"

Yoongi lives in apartment 613, so Namjoon makes his way through the mostly empty lobby, hoping that Yoongi doesn't hear any sounds that could alert him to his whereabouts. He gets to the elevator and gently holds his hand over the bottom of his phone to shield the microphone from the sounds of the elevator arriving and the doors closing.

"I don't know," Yoongi pouts. "I was hoping to kiss this cute guy, but he's being mean, so now I have nobody to kiss."

"What a shame," Namjoon mutters sympathetically before covering the microphone once more as the elevator dings to indicate that he has made it to the sixth floor. He hears Yoongi hum with a whiny lilt, and his eyes flutter closed for just a second from how good it sounds.

"What would you do if I was at your door?" Namjoon asks, stepping off the elevator.

With a huff, Yoongi whines, "You're teasing me."

"Play along."

Yoongi hums. "I would pull you in by the collar and kiss you stupid, obviously."

"I'd like that," Namjoon responds, voice quiet and deep.

"Too bad you're not here, then, hmm?"

Namjoon grins and bites his lip. "Yes, I am."

There's a pause before Yoongi chuckles. "You're so mean today."

"Open your door and see for yourself."

"Namjoonah," Yoongi grumbles, "you're not funny."

Namjoon lifts his hand and knocks on the door, and he can swear he hears Yoongi gasp. "Open up for me, hyung."

It's faint, but Namjoon can hear Yoongi moving through his place. Yoongi says nothing more. He opens his door and squints at Namjoon with a look of amused disbelief. His hair is down, hanging over his pretty cheeks, and Namjoon slowly lowers his hand to his side and smiles, unable to find the words as he stares at the pretty man before him. The smell of cooked onions and peppers hits Namjoon's nose, giving his mouth another reason to water.

"Such a tease," Yoongi whines as he reaches for the collar of Namjoon's shirt and tugs him into his place.

Namjoon allows himself to be dragged forward, and once he's in far enough to allow the door to close behind him, Yoongi promptly pushes him back against the door, closing it loudly as he crowds his space and presses their lips together.

Yoongi's lips are soft and warm—with a small, cool strip of metal that already feels familiar—and Namjoon moans into their touch and lifts his arms to wrap around his middle and pull him close. His phone is still in his hand—still on the call, for all he knows—but Namjoon's free hand rubs up the expanse of Yoongi's back, to his neck, as he licks into Yoongi's mouth and his fingers push into his hair.

"I missed you," Yoongi groans against Namjoon's lips. His hands are on Namjoon's neck and chest, gripping firmly.

"Missed you too, hyung."

Namjoon tastes mint on Yoongi's tongue, and he licks and sucks gently at it, pulling sweet sounds from Yoongi's throat. Yoongi feels eager to get impossibly closer, pressing Namjoon against the door as their bodies stand flush, and Namjoon pulls Yoongi toward him in an attempt to comply.

Yoongi breaks the kiss with a smile, and Namjoon attempts to look into his eyes as he presses their foreheads together. He feels so at home in Yoongi's arms that he doesn't want to let him go.

"How was the walk here?" Yoongi asks, panting as if kissing Namjoon took every ounce of his strength.

"Aside from almost walking into traffic when I saw your selca? Not too bad."

Yoongi slaps Namjoon on the shoulder and chuckles. "You're terrible."

"But I'm here," Namjoon responds.

Yoongi nods and closes the minuscule gap between them, connecting their lips with a moan. Namjoon wants to put away his phone, take off his shoes, and get comfortable, but he also wants to keep Yoongi in his arms, so he kisses—licks and sucks and gasps—until Yoongi pulls away once more, cheeks flushed and lips slick and kiss-pink.

"So pretty," Namjoon mutters, lifting his hand to gently cup Yoongi's cheek so he can run his thumb over his bottom lip.

Yoongi seems to make an attempt to compose himself as he takes a step back and clears his throat. Namjoon lets his hands fall away from Yoongi and shoves his phone into his pocket. He only now takes in the rest of Yoongi's appearance—an oversized black tee and black joggers with house slippers. He looks so cozy, Namjoon can't hold back a smile as he toes out of his shoes.

"You look so tiny and cute in your oversized clothes," Namjoon says, stepping toward Yoongi, who takes a step back. "Just wanna scoop you up and carry you around everywhere I go."

Yoongi squints and scoffs. As he cocks his head, Namjoon's eyes fall to the pretty flowers on his neck. "Do it then," Yoongi challenges.

Namjoon grins, takes a step forward, and as he bends at the hips, he grabs the backs of Yoongi's thighs and lifts him. Yoongi gasps and wraps his arms around Namjoon's neck, and Namjoon straightens out and settles Yoongi's thighs around his hips. With a smug smile, Namjoon cranes his neck back, having to look up at Yoongi.

"I'm not small," Yoongi grumbles, and Namjoon laughs.

"You are, actually," Namjoon says as he turns and scopes out a path to Yoongi's kitchen.

Yoongi's apartment is an open concept with the living room and kitchen divided by a wooden dining table and a marble-topped island. Everything is dark woods and brown leathers, sleek and tidy, with medium blue accent walls which have paintings of flowers and posters of old films scattered about.

There is a large metal bowl on the otherwise vacant island, and Namjoon approaches it and leans to the side to have a look at it, tilting Yoongi in the movement—who clings to him like a koala.

"Looks like there's enough hollandaise for two," Namjoon mutters as he eyes up the yellow sauce that Yoongi left the whisk inside.

"It's probably broken," Yoongi mutters sourly.

"I don't know what that means, but it looks fine to me."

Namjoon continues to pad through Yoongi's kitchen, looking at the ingredients that have been left on the counter. In a pan on the stove, under a clear lid, are potatoes that appear to be cubed and cooked with onions, peppers, and other colorful things. Yoongi rests his cheek on Namjoon's shoulder, breathing warm air on his neck.

"What's left to cook, hyung?"

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against Namjoon's neck, just below his ear, sending a shiver through him. "I began to braise short ribs last night. I just need to heat that, warm some english muffins, and poach some eggs."

With a dramatic sigh, Namjoon grumbles. "Sounds too complicated for me to do, so I guess I'll have to put you down."

Yoongi hums. "Darn."

Namjoon returns to the island and sets Yoongi atop it beside his bowl of sauce. Yoongi pushes Namjoon petulantly against the chest, forcing him to stumble back with a chuckle, and he hops down and goes to work in the kitchen, pulling a container from a very tidy refrigerator that appears to store the aforementioned braised short ribs. Namjoon uses his palms to lift himself and hop up onto the island where he had set Yoongi, and he watches Yoongi get to work warming everything and starting water to poach eggs.

Sitting on Yoongi's counter while he finishes preparing breakfast sets Namjoon at ease in a way he's never experienced. For starters, nobody has ever cooked something that has appeared so intricate before. Just knowing Yoongi began to braise the short ribs last night makes him lightheaded with affection.

Yoongi seems to have an ah-ha moment and turns on the balls of his feet. He grabs the bottom of Namjoon's pants and rolls it up, cocking his head to get a look at his handy work. A smile tugs at Yoongi's lips, warming Namjoon's heart.

"Looks good, sun seeker," Yoongi mutters.

"Of course it does, hyung. You're amazing."

Yoongi's fingers hover over Namjoon's jeans, where the pant leg is rolled into a cuff several inches from his ankle. He looks up at Namjoon with a soft smile, then stands straight and gets back to work.

It's not long before Yoongi is setting his and Namjoon's places at a table with braised short rib eggs benedicts, breakfast potatoes and kimchi. Namjoon busies himself with opening drawers and cabinets for silverware and glasses.

"Grab two glasses for water and two champagne flutes, please," Yoongi says as he leans into the refrigerator.

"Champagne flutes?"

Yoongi stands holding champagne in one hand and orange juice in the other. He grins—gums showing and eyes twinkling—and for a moment, all of Namjoon's brain function screeches to a halt. He still cannot fathom how pretty Yoongi is, much less the fact that he is standing in his kitchen.

"You sure have a staring problem," Yoongi says in a mock disgusted tone.

"Sorry I find you so attractive," Namjoon responds with a grimace and a roll of his eyes. He continues to search Yoongi's cabinet for glasses, finding champagne flutes on a high shelf.

Namjoon finishes setting the table, Yoongi pours them water and mixes mimosas, and then they sit to eat. Everything tastes so good, Namjoon malfunctions and needs a moment to sit back in his seat and stare at his plate. He questions whether Yoongi is simply good at everything—wonders what else he can do—and then silently chastises himself for letting his mind wander to Yoongi's talented fingers and pretty pale skin, attempting to stop his thoughts before they get too carried away.

"You hate it," Yoongi grumbles.

Namjoon shakes his head and blinks away the image of Yoongi sprawled out naked on his granite countertop. "I definitely do not hate it, hyung. I was just lost in thought."

"Oh?"

A glance at Yoongi's smirk sends warmth to Namjoon's cheeks, and he cuts off a large piece of egg, meat and bread and shoves it quickly into his mouth.

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. "Lost in thought about...?"

"You," Namjoon mutters with a mouthful of food, making Yoongi chuckle.

For the rest of breakfast, Namjoon does his best to avoid Yoongi's gaze and eat his food. But as he drinks his mimosa—which Yoongi continues to fill—he finds it harder and harder not to sneak glances. Yoongi tucks his hair behind his ears, and despite it being such a small thing, Namjoon finds it impossible not to adore the centimeters of skin now visible.

With a belly full of food and a head full of Yoongi, Namjoon leans his elbows against the table and cradles his chin in his hands. Yoongi clears the dishes and returns, leaning against the table beside Namjoon with his arms crossed over his chest.

"How was date number two?" Yoongi asks with a shy smile and glazed-over eyes.

"Was? It's not over yet, hyung."

"Oh?"

Namjoon scoots back in his chair, far enough from the table to make room for another body, and pats his thigh. "Come here and kiss me."

Yoongi's mouth falls open, and he complies—stands slowly and takes the two steps between them, then sits on Namjoon's lap with his legs hanging over the sides of the wooden chair. Yoongi's arms drape over Namjoon's shoulders, and Namjoon grabs Yoongi's ass and scoots him higher onto his legs, making Yoongi gasp.

"Careful pulling me too close," Yoongi grumbles as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against Namjoon's. "I'm wearing sweatpants."

At the veiled mention of Yoongi's cock, Namjoon feels blood rush to his. He considers saying to hell with his three-date rule and carrying Yoongi to his room, but the anticipation is so satisfying, he stays strong and reminds himself that their third date will be taking place later in the evening, anyway.

"Now who's the tease," Namjoon mutters as his hands rub up and down Yoongi's sides and back.

"Can't help myself," Yoongi responds as he licks over Namjoon's lips with kimchi and orange juice on his breath. "But I want to respect your boundaries, so you deserve a warning."

Namjoon feels warm and fuzzy, and he moves his hands back down to Yoongi's ass and lifts him as he stands from the chair. Yoongi wraps around Namjoon tight, and Namjoon walks them to a large brown leather couch, then bends, laying Yoongi on his back.

"You're cute, hyung," Namjoon mutters as he settles between Yoongi's legs and hovers over him.

A pretty blush covers Yoongi's cheeks, and he stares up at Namjoon with wide, curious eyes. His arms lift above his head, and Namjoon imagines grabbing onto his wrists and holding him in place against the arm of the couch.

"What if I want to feel the effects I have on you?" Namjoon asks as he leans down and slots their lips together.

Yoongi gasps and allows Namjoon to suck and lick at his mouth as he pleases, holding it open. Namjoon smiles against Yoongi's lips, loving the way he feels, but he can't help but wonder what has him so pliant beneath him.

"Unless you don't want me to," Namjoon continues.

"You wanna make me hard and force me to rub one out as soon as you leave?" Yoongi mutters against Namjoon's lips, making him chuckle.

After a hum, Namjoon says, "I like the thought of you jerking off while thinking about me, so I won't say no."

Yoongi's arms snake beneath Namjoon's, and he grabs Namjoon by the ass and pulls him down as he rolls his hips up, grazing the semi-hard bulge in Namjoon's jeans with a bulge of his own. Pleasure bursts through Namjoon, and he lets out a deep moan, watching in delight as Yoongi's face warps with pleasure.

"And are you going to walk home with a boner?" Yoongi teases.

"At this stage, I have no choice," Namjoon responds with a downward roll of his hips, grazing their cocks, and causing them to groan in tandem.

Namjoon kisses Yoongi's lips, down to his chin and jaw, and over to the flowers on his neck—each time pulling tiny sounds from Yoongi's mouth that cause warmth to spread over him. Yoongi slides his hands into Namjoon's back pockets and gives his ass a firm squeeze, and Namjoon huffs a ragged breath against Yoongi's skin that breaks out into goosebumps.

"What's off limits?" Yoongi whines as he rolls his hips up once more.

Panic surges through Namjoon—he truly does not know, at this point, what he might consider off limits. Prior to meeting Yoongi, many things were off limits that now seem like no big deal. Namjoon continues to kiss Yoongi's neck and hums to show he's giving it some thought.

"I don't know anymore," Namjoon finally admits. "I've never wanted someone this badly before."

"That can't be true," Yoongi whines, breathy and sweet.

"It is," Namjoon responds softly. "I've liked people before, but it has always been a steady build. Never this intense. I already find myself worrying about how badly I might lose my mind if I don't see you again."

There's a sweet lilt to Yoongi's tone as he says, "You have me," and Namjoon drops his weight down, engulfs Yoongi and holds him close.

Yoongi grunts under Namjoon's weight but holds him close—runs his hands up Namjoon's back and wraps his legs around his calves. Namjoon wants to calm his mind, but the proximity of their erections is at the forefront of his thoughts. He does his best to ignore that fact—does everything in his power not to let his hips rock, roll, twitch, or move in any other way.

"I can't keep my hands off of you," Namjoon whines against Yoongi's neck, lips betraying his thoughts the moment he finishes thinking them.

Yoongi tilts his head into Namjoon, breathes warm sticky breath against Namjoon's ear and neck and whispers, "Touch me, then," and Namjoon's cock twitches, causing his hips to jerk. Yoongi gasps, digs his fingers into Namjoon's ribs and trembles beneath him.

"S-sorry," Namjoon mutters, and Yoongi chuckles softly and whispers, "I like it."

Namjoon feels strange and perhaps a bit embarrassed, wondering what the hell he is doing, lying fully clothed on top of Yoongi on his couch. Warmth radiates between them, only enhanced by the leather beneath them, and Namjoon feels like, if he doesn't move soon, he might quite literally suffocate. And he is doing his best not to spiral and get up and back away and have a mental breakdown, but he is struggling—grounded only by the sweet musk and citrus of Yoongi's skin and hair.

As if Yoongi can sense Namjoon's anxiety, he loosens his grip and strokes his palms up and down Namjoon's sides, snaking them under the over shirt and rubbing over the thin tee. Namjoon rolls his face away from Yoongi's neck, leans his forehead into his shoulder and lets out a deep breath.

"Sorry, I just...I feel anxious," Namjoon admits.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Yoongi asks sweetly, calmly.

Namjoon hums and pecks at Yoongi's shoulder, lips dragging over his black cotton shirt. "My body wants two things, and I can't reconcile them."

"What's the first?"

A huff of air leaves Namjoon's nose—a nervous burst that is meant to disguise as laughter. "The first is that I want to jump off this couch and run as far away as I can to get my head clear."

Yoongi chuckles and continues to gently rub Namjoon's sides, shifting the fabric up and down with each movement. "And the second?"

Namjoon turns his face back into Yoongi's neck and drags his lips over his skin. "I want to pull your clothes off and worship you."

A gasp punches through Yoongi, and his fingertips dig into Namjoon's sides. Namjoon nips at Yoongi's neck, forcing sweet, low whimpers from his lips.

"S-surely we could find a compromise," Yoongi groans, breathy and affected. Or, Namjoon reasons, crushed under his weight.

Namjoon bends at the knees enough to lift his hips and stomach, giving Yoongi room to breathe, keeping his lips against his neck. "What do you recommend, hyung?"

"Kiss me," Yoongi whines.

With another drag of Namjoon's leg to get into a more comfortable, less crushing position, Namjoon manages to rub his ankle against the couch and pain surges through him, causing his body to seize.

"Oh, fuck," Namjoon winces and sits up.

Yoongi searches his face, brows knit with concern, and Namjoon begins to laugh, feeling foolish, muttering, "Scraped my tattoo on the couch."

"Sit up and I'll get back on your lap," Yoongi suggests as he wiggles into a seated position, pulling his legs from around Namjoon.

Namjoon struggles to figure out what he was thinking, laying Yoongi down and getting on top of him. He feels silly as he sits back, suddenly cold from the loss of Yoongi's proximity. Yoongi stands before him and leans down, caging Namjoon's head with his arms as his hands grip onto the back of the couch.

"We can stop," Yoongi suggests. It's an innocent enough statement, but Namjoon can't quite sort out how to interpret it, and he wonders if Yoongi wants to stop everything altogether and never see him again.

"I'm sorry if I'm annoying you," Namjoon mutters before he can control himself.

Yoongi slowly straddles Namjoon's legs, sitting gently and carefully as if, at any moment, Namjoon could tell him to stop and move away, and he would do exactly that. But Namjoon does not want Yoongi to stop or move away, and he lifts his hands to settle them over Yoongi's hips and assure him that his advances are welcome.

"What do you do when you feel anxious?" Yoongi asks, eyes searching between Namjoon's.

Run away, Namjoon thinks. Avoid and ignore and avoid some more.

Namjoon swallows a lump in his throat and lets out a deep breath. Perhaps champagne was a bad idea. He should have known he would get too handsy in Yoongi's apartment, on Yoongi's couch. He should have known he would smother and suffocate until Yoongi begged him to get out.

"Take a walk," Namjoon says. "Create space and try to think."

"Do you want to leave?" Yoongi asks softly. And Namjoon knows that Yoongi is not telling him he has to leave, but there is a part of him that wonders if that is what Yoongi wants. He wishes he could stop spiraling.

"No," Namjoon mutters, feeling weak.

Yoongi leans forward and gives Namjoon a soft, warm kiss on the cheek. "Good. I don't want you to leave."

Relief washes over Namjoon, and he is so emotionally torn in every direction, he feels like he could cry.

"I don't have a great track record with relationships," Namjoon admits, dropping his eyes to a spot on Yoongi's shirt, letting his gaze unfocus on the black nothing. "I get attached too quickly, and then, when it doesn't work out, I'm devastated. Over and over, always the same."

Fingertips graze over Namjoon's cheek, and he instinctively leans into the touch. "I'm the same way," Yoongi says with a hint of bitterness to his tone. With a scoff, he continues, "I had actually sworn off dating and started to bury myself in my work. And then you came along and ruined my plans, Namjoonah."

"I'm great at ruining things," Namjoon responds in an attempt to bring levity to the exchange, but his tone is too serious.

"So I guess we'll both get too attached and break each other's hearts then," Yoongi mutters.

Namjoon sighs. He appreciates Yoongi's calm yet straightforward responses. And although he wonders with all his heart if this could be different—if Yoongi could be the one to break the endless cycle of frustration—he worries that Yoongi could also be the one who breaks him the hardest and makes him hurt the most.

"This is not how I wanted this date to go," Namjoon laments, still refusing to look Yoongi in the eye.

"If it's any consolation, knowing what worries you is important to me," Yoongi responds. "Knowing we have the same fear and share a similar history gives me insight into how much communication and reassurance you may need. And, for the record, I will need the same."

Namjoon lets his head fall back against the couch, no longer capable of looking at anything but Yoongi's kind, pretty face. "It scares me how you always say exactly the right thing."

With a playful, devious flash of his eyes, Yoongi says, "Afraid I'm reading your mind and saying only the exact right things to ensnare you further so I can break your heart?"

"Worse," Namjoon responds as his hands rub up Yoongi's hips, below his shirt, fingertips grazing over bare skin. "Afraid you really are this perfect and that, in the end, you'll be the most devastating of all."

"Wow, Joonah. I never knew you could be so emo."

Laughter rocks through Namjoon's chest before he can stop himself; he feels lightheaded. "I assure you, hyung, I only get worse."

More silence settles between them, but Namjoon feels comfortable, finally. Yoongi's skin is soft and warm beneath his touch, and now that he has voiced his worries, they don't feel quite so heavy. Yoongi smiles softly, and Namjoon studies his face. Light, soft skin, dark, sharp eyes, hints of metal and round, pouty lips.

"I guess if we're equally scared, we may as well take the plunge together," Namjoon finally says, feeling somewhat resolved.

"Prolong the pain so it will only hurt worse later," Yoongi teases as he sits forward and crowds Namjoon's space.

Namjoon chuckles, and although a terrifying swirl of nausea hits him, all he wants to think about is capturing Yoongi's lips with his and kissing him until he unravels. "Exactly," he mutters, inches from Yoongi's mouth.

"So, for our third date tonight..." Yoongi begins, sucking Namjoon's bottom lip between his teeth instead of finishing his thought.

Namjoon hums and pulls Yoongi closer, in no rush to hear what he wants to say; he'll say it when he says it. Yoongi swirls his tongue over Namjoon's lip and releases it with a sigh.

"Jeonggukie wants us to join him and Taehyungie at some club."

Namjoon chuckles and takes his time, this time, sucking Yoongi's lip between his and forcing a groan from Yoongi's throat. Yoongi seems to melt in Namjoon's arms, slumping forward into his touch and falling pliant. Namjoon's mind spins, wondering what their dynamic might be in bed—whether Yoongi would want to be more in control or less—and he pulls Yoongi impossibly closer, licks into his mouth, tasting remnants of their meal.

"I'm down," Namjoon mutters against Yoongi's lips. He moves away just enough to kiss Yoongi's chin and jaw. "We can go, have a drink or two, and if we hate it, dip. I don't care. Just want to be with you."

"They're going to want to ask us invasive questions," Yoongi poses as an argument.

Namjoon hums. "True, but I don't have anything to hide from Taehyungie. I'm not worried about what you tell Jeonggukie. In fact, I promised Tae lunch after this, so I could get all of the invasive questions out of the way ahead of time."

Yoongi is so responsive to Namjoon's touch, gently rolling his hips and craning his neck, pawing at Namjoon with his fingers and palms. Namjoon nips at his jaw, and Yoongi hisses and tilts his head to force Namjoon's lips back to his.

"You would do that for me?" Yoongi asks against Namjoon's lips.

Namjoon grins and lets Yoongi use his mouth—kissing, sucking and licking as he moans and groans and hums. Namjoon's hands slide up Yoongi's back, to his shoulder blades and down—soft and smooth and warm, and Yoongi's lips move along Namjoon's jaw, sending sparks through him.

"I'm starting to think I would do anything for you," Namjoon mutters, allowing his eyes to flutter closed as Yoongi's lips and teeth find more sensitive spots to nip and kiss.

"That's dangerous, Joonah," Yoongi groans against Namjoon's neck. "Telling me that will only make me need you more."

"Good. Need me. Prolong our inevitable downfall for as long as possible by needing me."

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. He sits back and stares down at Namjoon, who can do nothing but smile back at him as his fingertips dance over his ribs.

"So, tonight with the boys," Yoongi asks with an eyebrow cocked. "And then afterward..."

Warmth floods Namjoon's cheeks at the thoughts of what could transpire between them. With the knowledge that Yoongi has the same fears, Namjoon feels more comfortable moving things along quicker than he would in the past. Yoongi doesn't seem like the type to hook up and fuck off, and Namjoon doesn't want to wait any longer to take things further. Perhaps, Namjoon thinks, Yoongi is the sun that he seeks—warm and bright and secure.

"My place or yours?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi grins.

just 1 part left! it’ll be steamy, so get excited! this is the outfit namjoon wore to date 2.

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rivangel · 2 years ago

Note

HOMIE I AM LIVING FOR THIS EVENT 😩

naturally i have picked something from the dissociation section (and canonverse pls.) namely the: "I... don't know how I got here." and *checks bank account* €7.98 if you can guess which character i want (levi)

do we give info on the potential specifics? i remember one night when my dissociation was REALLY bad, way back then, and i, unbeknownst to myself, walked out of my apartment at 3AM and sat by the bridge. not to do anything. i just... sat there. because being in my head - while in my bedroom - was too much and my body acted accordingly i suppose.

but yeah. reader having a hard time in canonverse for whatever reason and when it gets "bad" they go on walks. levi notices reader leaving and goes to find them (maybe they are up on the Wall?) and tries to get them to come back inside so he can help/try comfort them 🥺🥺🥺🥺

i added dissociation hurt/comfort for a reason😌 thank you for the specifics<33 i think this turned out amazing. pls lmk what u think cece!!!

content/warnings: HEAVY descriptions/themes of dissociation, hurt/comfort, canonverse, mention of death/blood

wc: ~1.2k

You don’t cope like normal people. Not after all the strife you have witnessed, fought, and survived in your lifetime.

You’ve leafed through medical textbooks, you’ve heard testimonies from other soldiers (without sharing your own experiences), and you know that once your mind can once again accept reality as real, then that is exactly what it is.

But it’s so easy to forget, to slip, to recede into a place at the back of your mind. You’re well-aware that it’s a prison, but you’re content not to escape because the feelings that wait when you’re free again are much worse than that small, colorless cage.

It’s so easy to forget.

In a fleeting moment of faint realization, you glance down at your dark, dirty boots, and the creaky wood you stand upon. That slight weightless feeling isn’t just you; you’re on a lift, wooden boxes of sorts that are attached to the Walls so that supplies can be transported to the top, and also soldiers, horses, and people... And...

And by extension, you notice your hands. They’re stained dark maroon in places by crusty, dried blood—random gore that only leaving the Walls gives you.

Did you return home today?—When? The memories are lost on you, you realize. You can’t recall a single conversation, action, or feeling.

Is this a dream? Is that the night breeze gently rolling across your face?

You want to cry, but you don’t know why.

Upon stepping off the lift, you accept the nighttime sky without processing how late it is. It’s colored an inky black, littered by a blanket of stars.

So it’s nighttime. Maybe you got back today.

Did we just get back? you wonder, but then you link your hands to scrape the dried blood from your cuticles and forget the question.

At night, torches light each checkpoint following down the Wall. No guards are ever needed at night, however, not when the Titans are “asleep”.

You now know for certain that you didn’t have a conversation with one of the Garrison that you can’t remember.

Even without light, it’s an easy path to keep to as long as you stare down at the unsteady steps your body makes. You find yourself doing that anyway. The clean, night air is enough relief from pain.

Like the aching soles of your feet (I'm still wearing my harness), and your twitchy fingers (Where is my ODM?), and your chest. What feels like a thick obsidian stone sits under your throat. Raw. Hurts.

You want to cry, but you don’t know why.

The constant sense of still dizziness whirls around inside your mind as you yourself are whirled around, and stilled. You blink rapidly, trying to catch up with yourself.

Levi, his appearance lackluster through the dark, says your name like a curse. With his arms outstretched like that, you gather he’s holding your shoulders.

You don’t fight. Even if you wanted, you don’t think you can.

“Hey.” A perpetual worry line sits between his brow.

Why is his hair damp?

“You shouldn't be up here without any gear.”

You blink, absently, and glance down at yourself. “I—I don’t know where it is.”

But he knows why you’re here, because he knows you.

It doesn’t have to be the deaths of two of your squad members after a torturous two weeks in Titan country to get you “out of sorts”, as you say.

It’s easy for the mind to escape somewhere when the body can’t, whenever it’s in a situation the mind can’t stand to be. Extraordinarily so.

As an automatic defense mechanism, it’s fickle by nature, and triggered like a switch: whether it’s shoved or tapped, gentle or frantic, you can’t help it. Simply stress—drowning in paperwork you're doing all wrong, a broken piece of equipment, even an argument—is enough.

He took endless care in learning all this for you.

You tend to go on walks when you get like this, but he knows it’s worse tonight, because you were supposed to clean up after he was finished in the bathroom. However, when he stepped out, you were simply gone.

He had insisted you stay with him—all your tells are obvious to him—but you wanted to be alone, or so you said. It was a mistake to listen to you.

Sighing deeply through his nose, he tells you,“We got back this afternoon, that’s why your gear’s missing. I’m gonna cuff you to me on every one of your walks from now on as long as they have you doing dangerous shit like this.”

You suck a balmy breath through your teeth, trying to process.

“Do you understand me?” With a squeeze of your shoulders, he pulls you a little closer. He might as well be holding you up.

You shake your head like you’re fighting some resistance in the air to do so. “I… don’t know how I got here.”

“I’m not blaming you.”

Levi takes a quick glance around again. He can’t stop himself despite the fact that neither of you have moved since he caught up to you. Neither of you are wearing ODM—because how could he have anticipated this?—and he’s cautious by nature.

He proceeds to have you recite your full name, your age, and your rank. When your birthday is, and your shirt size, dammit. These episodes you go through worry him at the best of times.

You get them all right, even though you’re a little slow to answer.

Dried blood adheres to his clean hand that he linked with yours and told you to squeeze like your life depended on it; even squeeze the life out of him, if you like. Reminders like this help to coax you out of it.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks quietly.

“L-Levi.” You jerk your head up and down in a nod, but then your jaw stammers. “I... I wanna go home,” you whisper, cracked.

Tenderly, he pushes your messy bangs from your face, pasted to your skin by sweat and blood. “That’s the plan. I’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

As he cups your cheek, your hands still clutched like two vices, you practically fall on it.

“Relax.” Reverently, he leans in and kisses your forehead. “If I’m here, you’re gonna be safe no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

You nod again, steered along with help from his free arm he holds your waist with. So protectively, your sides touch.

Levi, simply the sight of him, and his strong, warm hold, just the sound of his light steps, the scent of cedar and lemon in his hair—they help. You feel yourself gently encouraged into a state of drowsiness rather than coma.

You’re exhausted.

You step onto the lift together. The long walk to reach it escapes you, so you lean into him. He can hold you up all by himself, if you needed him too.

“What… are we doing after this?” you ask quietly. You crave something to hang onto for the future so you aren’t confined to drifting through the motions.

“We’re going to get you clean,” he replies without pause. “And then we’re going to get some food in your stomach, and go to bed.”

That is more than enough, as expected of Levi, who never fails to give you everything he has.

“Okay,” you murmur, understanding. You tighten your hold. “Okay.”

Enter the event here!

#levi ackerman x you #aot fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #levi drabble #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi fluff #levi ackermann x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi ackerman #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #aot fic #1k.event #g.scribe #moots: cece

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silkenstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

in the softest hours of night

Summary: Bucky gets a haircut and (Y/N) helps him to fully wrench himself from the clutches of his past.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning/s: fluff, cuddling, kissing, mention of Bucky’s past trauma

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: this made me feel very soft

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Do not repost! Likes and reblogs are welcome and encouraged :))

The sound of Bucky singing in the shower always made you smile.

He didn’t know that you could hear him from your spot in the bedroom. Sometimes, you considered telling him that you were his audience, when the guilt crept in and you felt as if you were intruding on a private moment.

But, most times, you chose to lie beneath the blankets and listen.

You could only ever make out fragments of lyrics-- tonight, he was singing Gene Sullivan.

“When my blue moon turns to gold again… you'll be back in my arms to stay.”

It was soft and tentative, his breathy, murmured syllables of blues-y jazz and swinging pop bouncing off the tiles with a sweet, echoing reverberation. He seemed to weave in between thought and song, quietly uttered lyrics often followed by a long period of silence before he picked the melody up again at the next chorus. Sometimes, his words were rushed and garbled, as if he were leaning into the shower head’s stream to wash shampoo-scented suds from his hair. Other times, he embraced the song head-on, crooning confidently into the clouds of steam, as if he were imagining brazen trumpets and thrumming drumbeats backing his vocals.

Whenever his volume crescendoed like that, you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face. He sounded so peaceful, so free, when for the past several decades, he had been the prisoner of his own mind. His singing was a small thing, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You heard the water turn off and you turned onto your side, burrowing into the sheets and wiping any evidence of eavesdropping from your face.

A few seconds later, you heard his feet padding against the hardwood, and you turned to face him, smiling sleepily. He was bare, save for the white towel wrapped around his hips, minuscule water droplets rolling off of his muscled body with every step. His shoulder-length hair was drenched, framing his face in a slicked chestnut curtain.

He reached the dresser and pulled out the top drawer, picking out a clean pair of boxers. He slipped them on beneath the cover of the towel, and you smirked at his unnecessary, but courteous, sense of modesty. You had seen him naked before, but he still preferred to stay covered in nonsexual situations such as this. So traditional.

He unwrapped the towel from around his waist and tossed it in the dirty laundry bin, and then walked over to your side of the bed. You reached up to him and he eagerly climbed on top of you, grinning as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

You stayed like that for a moment, even though his wet hair slid against your jaw and his weight crushed the breath from your lungs. You didn’t care that you couldn’t breathe. You loved it when he was mellow. He was his truest self when he was at his most vulnerable, his eyes crinkling at the edges with affection, his lips turned upward in a toothy smile that stole your breath and colored your cheeks a rosy pink.

He shifted, pushing up to rest his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut before he pressed his mouth lightly against yours in a delicate gesture of warmth, his lips warm and soft. His hair fell against your face, brushing against your skin and tickling your cheeks.

You broke the kiss, dipping your chin down and giggling. You opened your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” Bucky repeated back, his voice low, his tone similar to the one he used when he sang quietly in the shower. He returned your smile, until more of his hair slid down, blocking his vision of your face. He pushed it back with a dissatisfied grunt and frowned slightly.

He sighed. “Would you-- would you mind braiding my hair for me?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, sitting up. “I don’t like the weight of it all. My hair, I mean.”

You sat up as well, instantly understanding the dual meaning behind his request. He wanted the hair out of his face, yes, but he also loathed the identity that was tied to it, the decades of mindless, brainwashed life that it represented. He hadn’t trimmed it since the forties, his hair an immortalized vision of his pre-war self, an artifact of the abuse he faced at the hands of Hydra. His hair carried the weight of a lifetime.

“Absolutely,” you responded.

He shifted, sitting at the edge of the bed, and you sat behind him, your legs caging him in. Despite the fact that he was almost naked, his modesty preserved by his plaid boxers, he was warm. You leaned into his broad back, savoring the heat that he provided, walking your fingertips lightly up his spine in a teasing gesture before brushing them through his hair.

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it.” Your fingers carded through Bucky’s shoulder-length locks, fingernails lightly scraping against his scalp. You brushed through the wet strands, gently untangling a few nasty snarls with adept ease.

“Well, I did have to borrow your conditioner. Hope that’s okay.” Bucky said quietly, his back to you as you separated his freshly-washed hair into three sections.

“I don’t mind,” you mumbled, pushing your tongue between your teeth as you began to concentrate on the braid. “Makes you smell good.”

He scoffed. “Did I not smell good before?”

You paused, strands held loosely in your fingers. “I-- well, yes.”

He huffed a laugh, but was silent after that, enjoying the dull tug as you weaved his hair into a neat plait.

You were reaching the end of the braid when a thought crossed your mind. You paused, still grasping the three separate sections, and looked at the back of Bucky’s head.

“You know, Bucky,” you said, voice gentle. “We could cut your hair, if it bothers you this much.”

He paused, breath stalling, and considered what you said. Although he hated the years of violence attached to his hair, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to completely sever it from him. So much pain, so much history, snipped off and swept away in the blink of an eye-- he wasn’t sure who he would be without it. He surely wouldn’t be the same man as he was before all of this, so smug and cocksure, so smooth-talking and suave, the perfect image of 1940’s lady-killing swagger. But, he also wasn’t sure if that even mattered. That was who he was before. Now, he had lived through years of torture, decades of service as a trained assassin. He didn’t know who he was anymore. Maybe a fresh start would do him some good.

“Can we?” His voice cracked, throat tight with a sudden urgent need to bid farewell to his past incarnations.

“Do you want to do it now?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Go into the bathroom. I’ll find the scissors.”

Bucky followed your orders, reaching back to undo the braid you had so carefully woven. Silken, freshly-washed strands slipped through his fingers until he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for you to rid him of this long-held burden. He stared at his reflection, the tired, light purple crescents that shaded beneath his eyes, the natural down-turned tug of his lips, the deep, worried crease between his brows. A hard knot of self-hatred began to form in his throat, but he swallowed it as he heard you approach the bathroom.

You slipped behind Bucky, scissors in hand, and tapped his shoulder. At your signal, he knelt, folding his arms in front of him and leaning his head against the counter to allow you easier access to his hair.

“You ready?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding slightly, granting you permission to proceed.

You combed through his locks one last time, savoring their slippery, soft texture, their bristly split-ends. And then, you grasped a large section from the back and snipped.

You watched as the hair fluttered to the tiled floor below. Bucky smiled.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

Slowly, you began to cut away more and more sections of hair, trying your best to avoid creating any harsh, choppy lines. You weren’t a hairdresser by any means, though, so once the bulk of the length had been cut away, Bucky’s hair was a haphazard mess.

“Oh, god,” you breathed, shakily placing the scissors on the counter. “We’ll have to make an appointment with a hairdresser tomorrow.”

He stood, brushing stray strands from his shoulders. “That’s fine.” He turned towards you, not bothering to look at his reflection. “Just wanted to get rid of the length.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, whether in shock at his new appearance, or in embarrassment at your amateur handiwork, you couldn’t tell. But he just wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to his chest as you both shook with laughter.

He leaned back, reaching up to your face and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

You nodded and let him lead you back into the bedroom, turning off the bedside lamp and climbing under the sheets after him. He settled on his back and you wrapped yourself around him, tucked into his side, breathing in his fresh, soapy scent.

“Goodnight, doll,” he breathed, and you kissed his ribcage before letting his breathing lull you into the gentle space of sleep.

He simply smiled and stared up at the ceiling, a decades-old weight suddenly lifted from his neck. No longer did he feel the tendrils of his past slithering against his neck with every movement.

So this is what it’s like, to be free.

He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, tugging you just a little closer as he drifted to sleep.

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

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What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader] pt.2

Part 1 Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talking, fingering, me being terrible at writing warnings.

Author’s note: by popular demand, here it is what happened on that hard working night when reader and Niki were looking for solutions to a mechanic problem only to find themselves mixed up into something else.

“But if we change also this part here, we will have to re-do the whole main section on this other side to give back some balance, it would take too much time” you said as Niki traced some drawings on your notebook before scraping it vehemently.

“This is turning into an arts and crafts project” he groaned dropping the pen onto the page.

By now it was well past 2 in the morning, to call the both of you into this renewal process was an understatement: sitting on the floor, Niki’s jacket long abandoned on a chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his curls messier than you have ever seen them. You couldn’t recall a moment he was just as focused, so to see him constantly brush his hair from one side to the other was a sight to behold.

He moved his hand to the mug beside him and tried to drink, stopping himself as he realised it was empty.

“This round is on me” you said taking the mug from him along with yours slowly standing up, a light crack coming from your knees telling you that you stayed in the same position too long.

“Wait, I need to move too” he said stretching his legs before standing up, pushing his chest up to crack his back and then moving his head from side to do the same to his neck.

He didn’t realise how the time flew by, you clearly solved many flaws, but as many as you solved then some more kept appearing, popping up like mushrooms in the woods.

He huffed following you to the small kitchen room as you turned on the little kitchen hood light, it wasn’t much but it was a place for the team to have to cook and rest, plus they stocked there the holy grail: the coffee.

“How long have you been doing this?” He asked as he came to realise he knew little about your story.

“Oh, well my uncle was a mechanic, I would spend all the afternoons at his garage with him and my cousins, one thing led to the other and I was always there” you said with a smile.

“So it is a family business?”

“Sort of, he worked with normal cars, family cars, but he had a passion for vintage Volkswagen and Bentley’s, he would buy some really old dinosaurs of cars only to bring them back to life, I guess I learned more on those cars than I will ever do on any book, to make them work again was thrilling and emotional at the same time, to hear the engine sing again, find that piece made in that year, oh, I can’t even..” You said, you were a bit more relaxed without the pressure of having your colleagues around, a one on one conversation benefitting your spirit as you talked more in these last hours than in a whole day of work.

Niki was staring at you shamelessly, to see your eyes light up, you didn’t even realised how you moved your hands like you were still building those parts and components, a reflex that he couldn’t help but admire.

“I like the sound of your story” he admitted looking at you as you started to prepare the coffee “it is honest and it shows how devoted to this job you’re”.

You smiled and looked at him, the proud feeling of him noticing how much this meant to you smothering your doubts.

“Were you afraid?”

He leaned his head on side at that question, but he understood what you meant, he liked how you didn’t waste too much words on silly prequels of a question.

“No, I never get scared in the moment, my brain is on the track, I am focused” he explained as he moved beside you, resting his hip beside the counter with “it is in the aftermath, when the adrenaline lowers and I am on my own, even half an hour or more later at times, it just hits me, I realise it and I get a bit sick”

You stared at him as you put the percolator on the fire studying his features while his eyes were drifted aside in deep thoughts. He was being honest, he probably wouldn’t say that to anyone else, his role as alpha male of the place wasn’t meant to be challenged with this kind of talks. You admired him for that, he was the opposite of you, alway avoiding conflict to gain space, he gained space by erasing everyone with hardcore conflict.

“I was scared for you” you admitted looking down at the little flames in front of you “when I saw the wheel give up, I didn’t think anymore about the car, I thought of …of many things” you corrected yourself realising you were opening up too much.

To be at ease around him was a thing, to be out of place with your talks was another.

“Of death?”

You shook your head “no, no, I am not that dramatic” you chuckled but you were interrupted again by his inquiries.

“Of me?”

You gulped looking up for the first time to find him staring at you, you just realised the only light was the dim one belonging to the kitchen and still, he looked amazing, his eyes seemed to want to discover something through you, the confidence exuding by his posture almost unsettling you.You parted your lips letting out an answer that was more similar to a shaky breath, he leaned closer as his eyes dropped down to your lips, then up on you again only to quickly close the space between the two of you before you got the time to register what was going on. You didn’t expect such a rushed kiss, but you kissed him back immediately, your hands moving around his head to finally touch those tempting curls that hunted so many thoughts of yours. His lips parting and you mimicked that same move letting his tongue slip in your mouth, his arm wrapping around your waist as his left hand turned off the fire under the percolator.

“Y/N” he whispered pulling away from your hungry lips “I am not one that fucks around”

“I know” you said only. You didn’t know for sure but you could tell, he wasn’t the kind of man you have to wonder if he was going to call you back ever.

His lips travelled on your neck slowly sucking on it, his teeth nibbling on it, you tugged to his turtleneck pulling it over him forcing him to let go of you for a moment, but to see you share that same desire only made him more needy. He quickly rejoined your lips, his tongue slipping in your mouth again, a little smirk appearing on him as he found the zip of your uniform pulling it down easily.

“Such an effective piece of clothing” he whispered, your core bursting in need as you realised he wanted to do that same gesture as much as you did.

His hands pulling it off your shoulders as he tugged quickly onto the top you wore underneath.

“Too many layers, kleiner hase, let’s make it less next time” he whispered on your skin, you were getting all hot and bothered by his accent on a regular basis, but to hear him give you a pet name in German almost earned its own moan from you.

And, did he just tell you there will be another time? As he bared your chest, his both hands warm against your skin suddenly abandoned you just as his lips, your eyes shut open when the sudden loss of contact hit you like a cold wave.

“W-Wait”

You said instinctively already thinking you did something wrong, when you saw him drop onto his knees tugging the rest of your uniform with him.

“I am not going anywhere” his hot breath hit against the bare skin on your abdomen as his fingers undid one of your shoes, those very ugly safety shoes you had to wear.

A moment of insecurity creeped on you, you weren’t ready, the girls he met were always sexy and put together and wearing fancy things. But also how could you know this would happen? It is not like you could wear heels at work or lace lingerie just in case your walking fantasy man hit on you, right? Your thought process forbid you to notice Niki’s hand freeing one of your legs by the uniform and your panties guiding it sapiently, but when his wet tongue traced your slit there wasn’t a single worry to be left in your brain. A moan louder than you intended left you lips, the lower of your back resting against the kitchen counter, one hand onto his hair as his smirk was evident.

“You want it that bad?”

You nodded vehemently, fuck if you did, to have his tongue so used to spit sentences over every soul in the garage showing new abilities was a dream come true. You whimpered tugging onto his curls as you used your free hand to hold onto the kitchen counter, Niki himself guiding your naked leg onto his shoulder, the rest of your uniform tangled to the ankle of your standing leg along with your panties. Your voice quickly started chanting his name along with broken moans, his tongue soon learning its way to your clit but also your favourite pace, the same pace so many times you used when alone at night you felt the urge to place your needs at rest.

“No, wait”

You whined, he was so good but you didn’t want to finish already. You stared down at him panting as his lips moved off your clit but his fingers slid easily into you helped by the shameless wetness that he himself created.His lips glistened of that same wetness and the tip of his tongue quickly recollected it.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to finish off with you any time soon” he assured, your brain barely connecting the dots by now as his fingers, those same long fingers you admired in more than one occasion, knew perfectly how to drive you crazy.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He inquired, your brain quickly giving in as you nodded.

“I need you to talk, no time to be shy here”

You moaned as you stared at him, the sudden realisation of how much in control he was scared and aroused you at the same time.

“I want you to fuck me”

He smirked at your admission and he quickened his fingers to reward you.

“That’s right hase, I am going to fuck you and once I am done with you I’ll bring you home and there you’ll earn your place by sucking me off, right?”

You groaned as your hips buckled, you were so close, but he knew exactly how to keep you edging.

“I will, I swear”

You moaned, but you soon realised that wasn’t enough.

Enough was a word that Niki despised with every fibre of his being and you were learning it on your own skin.

“I will suck you off, I will get on my knees, I will be good, I-I will take it all” you moaned out of ideas of what to say and a little devilish chuckle left his lips, such an innocent thing trying to dirty talk, he felt even more powerful on you. The endless possibilities of shaping that shyness of you into his own pleasure making you even more attractive to him.

Your second reward was his tongue to finally trace your clit again, your orgasm was long announced and when it came it washed over you stronger than anything you ever tried before. He supported you easily forbidding you to collapse down, your fingers pulling his curls harshly now. He gave you few moments to gain back control over yourself, but by now his erection was pulsing harshly in his pants requesting its own attentions. He let your leg slip off his shoulder as he raised up hovering you once more before helping you up on the cold counter. You shivered as your hands moved to his belt unbuckling it nervously, he pushed his forehead against yours in a sweet display of care while you pushed down his pants and boxers together.

“You’re going to be so full of me” he whispered leaning against you ear, his hands onto your hips as he aligned himself against your entrance slipping inside eased by the wetness clothing your folds. You moaned louder than you meant, once more, your walls still sensitive by the last orgasm, his low growl of pleasure getting recorded into your memories forever.

“Oh, Scheiße, you’re so fucking tight” he groaned “I am going to stretch you nice and good, you are going to beg for more”

You moaned as his dirty words clouded your mind, one of your legs wrapping around his waist as he begun to thrust inside you, the full length of him giving you shivers and waves of pleasure. You clasped your lips closed trying to hold back more moaning sounds that came out anyway in form of discarded noises. You never felt any close to something like this, the way he moved made you feel owned and helpless, no trace of self control left in you and you tried to gain it back with that pitiful attempt of silencing yourself.

“What is this?” He snorted looking up at you, it was hard for you to look down and meet his eyes, his body tangled to yours, his skin onto yours.

“Are you denying me something?” He asked almost playfully as one of his hands left your hip and moved onto your chin, his fingers slipping past your teeth forcing your mouth open, the faint taste of yourself still on them. He licked his lips in amusement as his fingers toyed with your tongue, his pace steady now as his lips substituted his fingers, tearing away every amount of shame you held once more.

You relaxed in that kiss, so wholesome and loving, until he decided that those two adjectives weren’t needed anymore and his thrusting turned into a proper slamming inside you. You parted from that kiss, a loud moan filling the room again.

“There” He smirked keeping up with it “So good, such a noisy thing in bed, so quiet in life, I love it”

By now your arousal had reached untouched heights, your core starting to build up a new orgasm, little tears pickling the sides of your eyes.

“Fuck Niki”

“Yes, say my name, you want me to fill you up right? I am going to fill you up every day, you’re going to have me inside you even when I am not around” he hissed, you felt him pulsing inside you as you started to give in to his talks.

The future he unveiled to you with those chats was breaking havoc into your mind, awakening desires you never thought you could experience first hand.

“Yes, yes, do it”

You begged holding onto his shoulders for your own stability, your pleasure so intense that not even the leg around his waist could hold itself anymore and he had to support it.

“Such a good one, show me how you do it again”

You didn’t have to be asked more as you reached a very strong second orgasm, his hands grasping onto you as he rode you down your pleasure.

“Perfect” he growled as his thrusts went a bit erratic until he tugged you against him filling you up just as promised, swear words in German and low growls vibrating against your neck as he pushed his head there.

You knew already, but you were soon to realise how much a man of word Niki Lauda is.

He stayed there for a moment, still. The soft pants caused by your joined pleasure filling the room, the clarity you lacked a moment before coming back to you with a new found wave of shame and doubt. A sequel of new ‘what if…?’ scenarios about to screw such a blissful moment, until he raised his head and placed another kiss on your lips, just as soft as you needed to rest your racing mind.

“I am not going to let you go, kleiner hase”

His only whisper, he smiled as the tip of his nose slowly brushed against yours, suddenly you forgot about your shameful position and the nakedness and whatever else. A smile creeped onto your lips as you squeezed him in a hug. His hands moved slowly onto your thighs massaging them sapiently, he knew you will feel your legs wobbly once you get back down the counter and he was going to prevent it. He slowly peppered your face with kisses, he could sense your fears surfacing and dusted them away with gentle aftercare.

“Don’t move” He pulled slowly back leaving you sat there, pulling his boxers and pants up back in a swift move, before dedicating himself to help your leg back into your panties and uniform. He didn’t waste any time with your other clothing, just helping your arms back into that and zipping you up. He smiled satisfied of it before grasping your hips and helping you down, you were slightly unbalanced missing still one shoe, so he kneeled once more helping you like some Formula 1 Cinderella back into your boot, lacing it. He stood up again, a knowing smirk on his lips as those curls looked softer than ever. You smiled back blushing.

“Lets go” he said picking his turtleneck and putting it back on.

You picked up the rest of your scattered clothes as Niki guided you back to your working spot to collect his jacket and your belongings while you turned off the little light. You knew where you were going, he told you already, a new wave of expectation crashed on you while you put your clothes into your bag. He smiled at you and you smiled back looking down as a reflex to your undying shyness, not like Niki was ever intentioned to erase that from you. He liked it.

You blinked as you looked at the projects aligned on the floor from a new angle.

“Niki”

He turned around looking at you while holding his jacket under his arm, his hand brushing over his own mouth and jaw. He walked back to you, leaning closer while following your eyes on the papers and scattered schemes.

He saw it too.

The solution.

He smirked looking down at you as your eyes moved up to meet his.

“Tomorrow” he sentenced kissing onto your temple to bless that claver brain of yours, gently taking your bag to himself, placing his other hand on the lower of your back to guide you out of the garage, switching off the lights on his way out.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#niki lauda #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda hcs #niki lauda smut #niki lauda rush 2013 #niki lauda rush

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luimagines · 3 years ago

Text

The Chain Confess While Your Hurt/ Upset Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

This section will include the W Trio! Warrior Wild and Wind!

As per usual Reader in Wind’s scenario is the same age.

Warrior’s cut can be easily taken out of context- (in fact it technically is) but reader discretion is advised for that one. It’s basically, reader strips, teases, is shameless, and Warrior panics.

Nothing bad but you never know.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

“Warrior you can’t be serious.” You bare your teeth in a snarl and place your hands on your hips. “You did not just ask me to strip and crawl down some time forsaken tunnel while you get to wait behind and hope that the others are on their way to help us.”

“Ok, when you put it like that-”

“Why do I have to do it?” You growl. “Why don’t you strip and crawl down there? Why was I your first option?”

“You’re smaller than I am, I don’t think I’ll even fit.” Warrior groans. “It’s not like I’d just ask you-”

“To put on a show or something? Is that what you’re after?” You raise an eyebrow.

Warrior chokes on his own spit at your bluntness and he feels his face flush from it. Admittedly, he wouldn’t be opposed but he’s not going to say any of that out loud. “It’s like not that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh then what ever did you mean, dear Captain? I’m almost tempted to do it just to get a rise out of you.”

Warrior begins to regret ever suggesting this. He’ll die. This will be the way he dies. He knows for a fact that if you do, it’ll get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t on the forefront of his mind when he first mentioned it because the mission is first but he regrets. Oh, he regrets.

But now that it’s out, he can’t take it back.

“I mean, I can try to do it.” Warrior offers to take your place to save his pride. “I can go first. It was my idea.”

“No, no-” You put a hand up to stop him and grip the hem of your shirt with the other. “-It’s not like it was a bad idea. And since the ever gracious Hero of Hyrule volunteered me-”

“Please don’t say it like that. You do not have to do this. Please stop, oh my- For Din’s sake!” Warrior whips his hands over his eyes as you rip your shirt over your head and turns on his heel for good measure. “I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? Put your shirt back on. What if the others on the other side or something? Or monsters? Or spikes!”

“Spikes? Really? Is that the farthest your imagination goes?” He hears you snort.

You have no idea what’s going on in my imagination, Warrior gulps and puts his other hand on his face out of embarrassment. He knows his face is beyond ruby red and he doubts that he’ll ever live this down. If Cia and Lana are watching he’s equally dead. “Have you no shame?”

“Pretty much.” He can hear the shrug in your voice and the way your belt buckle hits the ground.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Warrior whines, forcing himself to not turn around. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this. You. Do not.”

“Too late. Shirt is off. Pants are off. Shoes are off. Hair is up.” You start going down the list. “Sword... is going to have to stay behind.”

At least at that he hears you hesitate.

“Please take a weapon.” He nearly begs. “Please take a weapon with you through the tunnel.”

You don’t respond for a second and he peeks a little beyond his fingers. He doesn’t turn around, as much as he wants to look you in the eye for this and settles for staring at his shoes.

“I’ll take my carving knife.” He hear you say and he can hear you shuffle against the stone floor.

“Not a bow or maybe something a bit more sharp?” Warrior offers.

“I’m going in.”

“I’m so sorry.” Warrior takes a breath. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Quit being a baby. I’ll be right back. Watch my clothes.”

“I’ll watch over them with my life.”

“Good. See you on the flip side.”

He waits in the time it takes for you to shimmy through the tunnel until only your feet are showing before he makes his way over to your clothes and picks them up. The tunnel is dark and long and he’s not sure what to do in the mean time you’re gone.

He sits down in front of the tunnel and begins folding your clothes.

“WARRIOR!!” You shout down the tunnel in a panic. “This is bad! FIRE! LOTS OF IT!”

He gets to his knees at the information once it reaches him.

“I’m coming back and praying it doesn’t come my way!”

“Be careful!” He shouts and knows that he can’t really do anything to help.

“OH GOD SOMETHING EXPLODED!” You shout and he can barley see you through the light that’s beginning to shine through.

There’s a panic in his chest and he shoots to his feet to stand by the tunnel’s entrance.

“Fire! There is fire! I am on fire!” You scream.

The second your hand comes even close to the entrance, Warrior gets on his knees again and pulls you through the tunnel.

He’s not so concerned about the way your pulled out of the tunnel or how you scrape against the stone.

You do have some burns that he’s concerned about and he’s quick to rip his scarf off and place it around you, covering you and snuffing out the flames that have appeared around you.

“I don’t know what happened.” You say and wince as he pats the flames out. “One minute everything’s fine and the next there’s fire and something explodes and I’m crawling all the way through that nasty tunnel again with flames up my-”

“Ok, ok, hold on, I think I have an extra potion.” Warrior pulls his scarf up to your neck and wraps it around you like a blanket.

“Everything hurts!” You cry and slowly go to lay down on the stone, it’s cool against your burns and you sigh.

“Here.” Warrior takes out the potion from his pack and uncorks it, giving it to you gently as he sits beside you.

“At least I’m not alone.” You sip it from the side and let the magic do its job.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“No, it was just your idea. You didn’t make me go through there.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“I’m not even that hurt, calm down.”

“I didn’t even go after you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t fit.”

“I could have tried.”

“Well at least it’s only me and not the both of us. Time would probably have both of our heads if we were both stupid.” You snort and sit up again, the relief instantaneous on your wounds.

“I wish it was me instead.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Why? What is wrong with you?” You scrunch your face, the idea of getting hurt for the sake of getting hurt is unfathomable to you.

“I love you. Do I need a reason?” Warrior sighs and runs his hand through his hair before stopping half way with bulging eyes and a panicked face.

You also stop drinking the potion, letting a small drop fall from your lips and down your chin.

“Warrior.”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t just say that.”

“Link.”

“We don’t have to speak about this ever again. Or ever speak again. To each other. If you want. I’m going to die now. Ok. Bye.” Warrior stands up suddenly and begins to walk away from you.

“You better not die on me!” You growl and pull his scarf tighter around yourself, fighting through the swamped fabric to get to your feet as well. “I’ll kill you if you die. Don’t leave me here alone. I’ll kill you if you leave me here.”

“I’m going to find-”

“My clothes.” You cut him off. “Where are my clothes? Find those.”

“Ok. Ok. Yeah, of course, right- you’re still- Ok.” He paces around a bit before turning on his heel in a circle, finding your clothes somewhere off in the corner where he left them. He’s quick to make his way over to them and pick them up.

He clears his throat when he drops them at your feet and turns his back to you. “Any other idea where to go from here? Or how to get to the others?”

“Link.” You call his name again.

Warrior gulps and puts his hands over his face, his whole body tensing up. He nearly jumps in his skin when he feels your hand on his shoulder and your lips on the shell on his ear. He’s shaking.

Hylia help him. You make him weak.

“I love you too.” He feels you grin and he doesn’t even try to stop the shudder that rips through his body.

You give him a tiny kiss on his ear and he borderline whimpers from the contact.

“Oh this’ll be fun.” You giggle and Warrior bites his lip at the tone of your voice.

“Go easy on me?”

“Not a chance, soldier boy.” You laugh.

Warrior almost regrets this.

Almost.

Wild

Wild wasn’t sure what he was seeing or experiencing. There was colors and feelings and voices that he knew he was supposed to know... but when he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why any of that would be familiar. Nothing made sense and he couldn’t even remember what his dream was about.

He tried not to be upset by it.

Every time this happened it he knew he was dreaming about his past- but any recollection of it seemed to slip through his fingers. Always so close and yet so far.

He rubbed his eyes of the not shed tears and looked around the camp.

Time and Twilight were still sleeping- so at least they won’t have to know that it happened again. Legend and Hyrule were once again asleep next to each other with Sky sprawled full eagle next to them. Wind and Warriors were next to each other, sleeping back to back and sharing his scarf like a blanket. Four was on watch and when he noticed that Wild was awake, he nodded with a small smile and went back to looking into the fire- which really meant he went back into his thoughts.

You on the other hand, were sleeping alone, curled up on yourself and clutching your blanket tightly with both of your hands.

You looked like you were in pain.

Wild felt his heart call out to you, as it usually does and watched you for a moment, trying to see if there would be reasonable cause for him to intervene.

You could be in real pain and just asleep but he wouldn’t be able to help with that. Or you could be trapped in a nightmare and he would gladly wake you up- but you weren’t showing any signs of the latter.

Wild hums and shimmies back down into his bed roll, readying himself to attempt to go back to sleep.

He’ll make you something special in the morning. Hopefully that help balance out the upset night you’re both having.

Suddenly there’s a gasp and Wild twists over to look in the direction it came from.

After waiting a few seconds, you sit up and rub your eyes, smacking your face a little as you look around the group. Your movements are a little frantic as you look around, your eyes land on Four for a split second and wave to him before hopping around and twisting to come face to face with him.

Wild freezes, not expecting you to look as shaken as you do.

There’s a whole wave of unshed tears in your eyes but you seem to relax slightly at the sight of him.

Wild doesn’t know what to feel about that.

You gulp down what sounds like a desperate breath and blink, sending the tears down your face. “Wild-” You croak. “-Are you ok?”

Him?

You’re asking him if he’s ok?

“Yeah- I’m-” He clears his throat to not sound so groggy. “I’m ok.”

“Anything hurt?”

“No.” He tilts his head. What an odd question. “I just woke up from a memory is all.”

Maybe you’re asking him why he’s also awake.

“Oh. Good.” You nod and rub your eyes again. But then you panic. “I mean- Not good good! But like.... I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You stand suddenly and rub your arms frantically to fight the mild chill in the air.

“I’ll be right back.”

Wild doesn’t even get the chance to ask you’re ok as well. You nod once again to Four, who’s now paying a little more attention to his surroundings, and leave the camp entirely.

Wild stands up as soon as you’re out of sight and kicks away the blanket from his feet, making his way after you as quietly as he can manage.

Four looks in his direction and raises an eyebrow, not saying anything.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” Wild hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Four to hear him. “I’m just gonna check on them.”

“Hurry back.” Four replies. “I gotta wake the Old Man soon and I don’t want to explain why two people, one of which is you, are missing.”

Wild nods and picks up his pace.

He prays you didn’t go far. The night in this forest seems to be particularly dark, and it’s hard for him to see what’s in from of him. If you went too far ahead, he’d have no way of getting to you.

Luckily, he steps a twig which tips your hand. He sees the movement in front of him, of the shadows jumps to look behind.

“It’s me.” He says in a little more normal voice. “It’s ok. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh...” He hears you say. There’s a slight wobble in your voice. “Did you need something?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you right now.” Wild makes his way closer, pushing a branch away from his face and stepping into your personal space. “It’s a bit late for an evening stroll. It’s even more dangerous to go without telling anyone where you’re going.”

You chuckle but it’s half hearted. “I know, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It’s just... Nightmare and all that. I just wanted to walk it off.”

Wild bites his lip and tries to not audibly hiss. “Do...” Would you trust him like this? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“With you?”

Ouch.

“I mean, I’m offering.” He shrugs and smiles, even if he doubts you’ll see it.

“No...” You say after a long pause. “It’s.... I mean, not with...not with you. I’m sorry. It’s really personal.”

Wild takes a breath through his nose and ignores the hurt. “Well, I’m here if you need me. But Four’s also awake, if you want to go and talk to him instead. I mean, if you want to talk about it at all... I can stay here... and wait... until you’re done... Maybe try to fall asleep elsewhere.”

“No.” You whine and Wild has a split second thought that you might be crying. “Don’t- don’t leave me. Please. I think I... I think I just need to see you or hear you... What did- Why are you up? ...Again. You said it was a memory?”

“I don’t really remember.” Wild reaches forward and places his hand on your shoulder, followed quickly by his other one. He really wishes he can see your face. “I feel like I should but I don’t. It’s happening more often now than before and I don’t know what to think of it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs moving his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. In the process of doing that, the back of his fingers run across your cheek and he notes that it’s wet.

You are crying.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He tries again, heart aching in tandem with your pain, even if he doesn’t know what caused it.

“Wild-”

“It doesn’t have to be with me, just-”

“But I want to talk with you. Just not about that.”

“But you shouldn't hold it in. Talk to me, please. How can I help?”

“Wild, not with you-”

“Why not with me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you because it’s about you!” Your voice cracks and he can feel your hands fly to your face to cover it.

Wild can admit that he was being a little pushy towards the end there but your words strike him physically. He can feel his heart speed up at the thought and he’s quick to gulp down a breath. A nightmare? With him?

“Did I hurt you?” He asks in a whisper, leaning closer but loosening his grip on your shoulders.

He doesn’t know what hurts more.

The thought of him hurting you or the thought that you think he’s capable and willing to hurt you.

Does he scare you?

Do you actually hate him?

How does he fix this?

“No...” You finally answer him and step into his arms, placing your face (hands still there) into the crook of his neck. “You got hurt.”

Oh.

“You got hurt bad.”

Oh.

“They hurt you so bad, Link.” You break into a sob and wrap your arms around his neck. “There was so much blood- and- and- I couldn’t do anything. And you weren’t moving. And I tried calling out to you but you weren’t answering me and- and they were gonna take you away and kill you and I couldn’t- You couldn’t even fight back-”

He doesn’t even think to ask you who’s this ‘they’ you speak of. Wild tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your hair. “Shhh... It’s ok. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m ok.”

That explains why you were so shaken, why you asked him those questions, why he’s beginning to understand where you’re coming from by not wanting to tell him this...

“I know.” You whine and press yourself tighter. You focus on his heartbeat and try to convince your adrenaline filled brain that the boy in front of you if alive and unharmed and safe.

Wild reach up and tangles his fingers into your hair. He starts petting you, letting you cry into his shoulder without once letting go.

“I’ll be ok.” He tells you. “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

You nod and move your hands from your face, wrapping them around his chest. Wild smiles somewhat despite himself and nuzzles you with the side of his head.

“I know you can’t actually promise that.” You mumble and take a deep breath, calming yourself little by little. “I appreciate the thought though.”

“I love you too much to not keep it.”

“You love me?”

Wild freezes and nervously laughs. “Did I say that?”

“That’s what I heard.” You sniffle and lean away from him. “Is that what you said?”

Wild can see what little moonlight is left to look you in the eye and he swallows. “Yes.”

“Do you mean it?”

“...Yes.”

Wild’s heart is pounding now and he’s trying to calm down to hear beyond the blood in his ears.

He sees you smile and you go back to leaning against him, your nose just barely brushing up against his neck. “I love you too. Stay with me?”

“Yes...” Wild holds you tight again and gulps. “Yes. I will. As long as you’ll have me.”

Four for his part, had woken up Time ages ago, not wanting to put up with whatever mess you two would have found yourselves in. Time had followed in the direction Four had pointed him in and had found both of you there, arms around each other and asleep against a tree just beyond the camp.

Time sighs and is tempted to leave you there but his conscious won’t let him.

Wild is embarrassed to be caught but you’re too sleepy to consider why you’re awake again.

You hold Wild closer in your half consciousness and he’s forced to carry you back to the camp under Time’s judgmental and knowing stare.

Wind

“Ha ha haha ha!” You cheer and wave the key in front of Wind’s face. “I got the keeyy~!”

“I see that.” Wind pouts slightly and crosses his arms. “And I would have gotten it too if you weren’t faster than me.”

“But I got it! I win!” You skip and go to open up the locked door on the other side of the room.

“We’re not done yet.” Wind reminds you and there’s a new thing in the other room that he haven’t seen before.

There’s a pedestal in the middle with an open book and multiple candles in a circle around it. The air is strangely sweet and warm and it would lull you to sleep if you were allow yourself to relax.

“This is nice for a change.” You comment. “Smells way better than-”

“Than the past three dungeons in total.” Wind interrupts.

You pause and look at him, shrugging. “I mean...I was gonna say ‘our group’ but you’re not wrong.”

“Our group? What’s wrong with our group?” Wind asks you with a tilt to his head. Do they smell? Is he smelly? Do you think he’s smelly?

“You’re all gross and smell bad.” You say with a scrunched up nose. Wind would think it was cute if it wasn’t for your words.

“I don’t smell that bad.” Wind argues. “I don’t smell at all actually.”

“You’re all smelly.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“All teenage boys smell bad!”

“Ok fine! Who’s the worst?” Wind finds himself asking, if only so he doesn’t fight with you. “Who smells so bad that you can’t even stand to be near them?”

This causes you to pause for real this time and he stops next to you to let you think before you both go any further.

“You do.”

“What?”

“Kidding!” You smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “Since he’s not here, I’d have to say Sky, next is Twilight but he has a good routine of keeping clean so it’s not as bad.”

This confuses Wind slightly and he steps further into the room to investigate as he talks. “Sky? I thought you’d say Wild or Hyrule. I’m not surprised about Twilight being that high on your list. He always smells like some kind of animal.”

“I think it’s that pelt of his.” You admit. “Sky just smells strong. It’s not bad or anything but he always somehow smells like a cucco and I can’t unsmell it no matter how hard I try.”

“Ok. But why not Wild or Hyrule? They can smell pretty funky too.”

“Wild jumps into too many rivers for it to count and I think there’s something about Hyrule’s magic and his friendship with fairies that keep him from smelling too bad.” You walk up to the pedestal and get on your tip toes to look at the book. “He tends to just smell like sugar water and lemon drops.”

Wind gulps a bit as he tears himself away from staring at you when you bend over and tries to find any hidden latches on the walls or any floor tiles that seem out of place.

Nothing.

“What about me though?” He says to fill the silence. “Where do I fall on your list of smells?”

“You smell like sea salt and river water after it’s rained.” You try to latch your foot onto one of the carving and hoist yourself higher. “It’s not bad and it’s not too strong either... so like maybe an eight of ten.”

“Out of the ten of us?”

“Oh, I meant like on a scale how good verses how bad it is. Compared to the ten of us, you’re like number three. Four actually smells the cleanest with Warrior right after him, then you.” You push yourself up and try to find purchase with your other foot, not paying attention to how the flame on the candles grow.

“Four? The blacksmith?” Wind gives up on his search and turns around to see your perilous position. “Hey get down! You might hurt yourself!”

Wind doesn’t notice the flames either, but you’re tipping the pedestal at an unsafe angle.

He doesn’t want to come off as over protective and make you feel like you can’t protect yourself, knowing what that feels like, but the idea of you going face first into the floor has him incredibly nervous.

He dashes up to you and pushes it back into place.

“Oh.” You perk up and grin up at him. “Thanks. Come see what’s in this book. I don’t know what it says but it looks important.”

Wind frowns a little and lets go. The pedestal stays standing as it should and he’s a little less nervous about you falling. He comes around to your side and you hop off to make room for him. As he tries to copy your movements to get up onto it, his hand brushes your shoulder and your hair.

Startled by the unexpected proximity, you take a step back and knock over one of the candles.

“Good job.” Wind says automatically at the sound.

“Thanks Link.” You stick your tongue out and go to pick it up. “I can feel your love and support for miles.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well do you have any idea of what to do next because I sure don’t.” You look away and suddenly notice the size of the flames. They keep growing bigger and bigger and you latch onto the back of Wind’s shirt to pull him away. “Something’s happening.”

On cue, the flames grow large enough to touch and you can begin to feel your eyes begin to close.

Wind takes out his boomerang to fight the ever growing flames and he tosses it in hopes of extinguishing it but there’s no such luck to be found. What’s worse, you fall on top of him and he’s forced to catch you as you fall unconscious.

A deep laughter resonate around the room and the flames grow upward and sideways, parting to crate two arm like figures and two beady eyes with a mouth in the middle.

“A life force is always sweetest when young.” It laughs again and tries to reach for you. Wind brings out his deku leaf and blasts the flame away from touching you, standing over your body in an effort to protect you.

“What did you do!?” Wind finds himself asking the creature. It’s in anger more than it is to learn what’s happened but the creature responds to it regardless.

“Those who read my book, are under my spell and those who are under my spell, become mine to consume. The young always have a bit of fat in them still... makes them all the more delicate a treat. You’d join your friend in the same way had you read my book for longer, but I suppose this works either way.”

Wind begins to panic and he doesn’t think his deku leaf will be enough to fight the flame, nor will his sword do any damage. There’s not enough time to reach for a different weapon and there’s no way he can run past the flames without being hurt. Maybe he would survive if it was just him, but he’s not going to leave you behind.

Not now, not ever.

Wind gets up on his feet and take a deep breath. It’s thick and laced with enough smoke to make him cough but he stands tall and firm.

He needs to buy time.

Enough time that he can think of a plan and execute it without hurting you in the crossfire.

The creature closes in on the two of you and Wind is pressed by the lack of options.

Suddenly, Wind spots Wild through the gaps of the eyes and mouth on the other side of the room. Wild stands there shocked and confused but shoots the pedestal with the most apathetic ice arrow he can manage.

The flame dies instantly and the creature is cut off with a horrible ear piercing screech.

Wind covers his ears from the sounds as it dies out and misses Wild call his name in concern when he’s noticed. Instead, when the noise is gone, he turns on his heel and crouches over you. He shakes your shoulder violently and begins to whine in concern when he doesn’t get an answer.

Wild jogs up next to him and places a hand on Wind’s shoulder. Wind turns to the older hero before he can even speak and yells. “Where’s Legend or Hyrule or someone who’s good with magic? That thing put them to sleep with a spell in that stupid book and they’re not waking up!”

“What happened to you two?!” Wild replies as he dashes toward the ice brick that he’s formed.

“Don’t look at the pages! Don’t try to read it! I think it makes him stronger.” Wind cries out as he rolls you on your side.

“What even was that thing?” Wild dashes back to Wind’s side with the book under his arm.

“I don’t know but it wanted to eat them.” Wind can feel the panic tear into his heart and soul at your unknown fate and he hates that he doesn’t know what to do. “Wild help!”

“Ok. Ok. Here, let’s get them out of here first and we can go get help the others.” Wild stuffs the book in his slate and reaches over to pick you up, trying to be gentle in case you have any injuries that he can’t see.

Wind takes out his sword and takes the lead, making sure nothing else from the room surprise attacks them and that there’s nothing in front of them that will also attack.

“What if they don’t get better?” Wind looks back at Wild and finishes with looking at your face. He’s briefly reminded of that time Tetra was turned into stone and how there wasn’t much he could do to help her. The difference here is that you’re still flesh and blood and you look peaceful despite the circumstance of your sleep.

“They will.” Something catches Wild’s attention in the distance and he goes to place you on the ground. “I think I see Time. Stay with them, watch over them. I’ll be back.”

“Ok.” Wind takes a step to let him pass and waits for a second before sitting next to you. He reaches over and runs his finger through your hair, brushing it gently from your face.

He turns away then and sighs, settling his hands on his knees. “I hope you wake up. I need to be able to tell you that I like you.”

There’s no response- as he expected and it’s tears at his heart a little.

“I just figured this out for myself and I don’t know if there’s a way for the two of us to be together after all of this. But I don’t know if I want to live with the what if if I don’t say anything.”

“Say what?”

“I like you, a lot and there’s a lot of- wait.” Wind jolts up and shifts his eyes to look in your direction.

You’re looking at him with what he would describe as a dreamy look, sleep still holding onto you and rims of your eyes but you’re smiling and happy and soft-

“You’re ok!” Wind cries and pushes his sword out of the way, jumping into your arms and resting his head against yours. “I was worried.”

“I’m ok.”

Wind grins at your sleepy voice and it makes him giggle. Only for the other shoe to drop and he shoots his head up to look you in the eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Try everything.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s ok. I like you too.” You giggle and try to sit up, brushing your hair back again and poking him in the nose. “You smell like smoke now.”

“Is it bad?” He blinks and pulls at his tunic to sniff himself.

Yes, he does smell like smoke but he can still faintly smell the salt you mentioned earlier.

“No.” You smile and crawl into his personal space, using his lap as a pillow. “It’s warm.”

Wind’s breath stutters a little and he gulps, hesitantly putting his hand in your hair to run his fingers through it.

He looks back up just in time to see Wild and Time return with knowing smiles on their faces. He flushes deeply, but lets you go back to sleep peacefully, no longer afraid of any what if’s.

You’re warm in his lap and he smiles.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

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