#and I wanted to be hiding under or standing on a mushroom

[foldingfittedsheets]

We have successfully returned from an excursion to photograph mushrooms!

[blurboki]

✩ ≫ GIVING STRAYKIDS HEAD WHILE HE’S LIVE

including. ot8 | pairing. skz x fem! reader | genre. smut - MINORS DNI | warnings. blowjob/handjob (m. rec), mentions of begging, mentions of a breeding kink, voyeurism, nicknames, mentions of using toys, humiliation, cum-eating, facial (f. rec), hair pulling, dubcon, felix cums inside, degradation, overstimulation, gagging, deep-throating, d/s dynamics

authors note. ty for requesting! i hope you don’t mind how wild i got with this.. seungmin’s made me feral (please tell me if i missed anything in the warnings!!)

CHAN :

would be so smiley n cute :((

until you kneel down and the realization hits

you can see his expressive eyes go “oh? oh.” in five second flat

the way you’re looking up at him? he’s twitching in his pants, trying his hardest to pay attention to chan’s room

definitely says something like: “alright! let’s get onto the next song, yeah?” while furiously turning up the volume to drown out his soft huffs of breath, plump lips parted to exhale deeply

the way he utterly shudders when you lick from his shaft all the way up to his leaking head has the dreamiest sigh falling from your mouth

the way you’re testing his patience makes him want to fuck you silly 🙈🙈

plays it off as if he was adjusting in his chair, meek smile giving away none of your naughtiness

once you start taking him into your mouth though, he reaches a hand to your hair, forcing you to down him

squeezes his eyes shut from the feeling of your throat swallowing him alongside the toe-curling whine you whimpered in response

most likely pretended to yawn to conceal his fucked-out face and the obscene sound of you gagging on him, babydoll eyes welling with tears

omg the way he looks down at you after that ?admiring your smudged mascara and the drool coating your lips and chin ?? pls eat me sir

“unfortunately, that’ll be the last song for this live, thank you Stay for joining me today..” he says, nonchalantly thumbing at your bottom lip to wipe the residue sitting there

legs spread and cock flushed against his abdomen, you come to realize rather quickly that you got yourself into something dangerous…

MINHO :

he’d prob be doing a live in the meeting room when you arrive, gazing at you pushing chairs out of the way to make him think you’re planning to sit down

till you settle between his legs and the realization dawns

has the most attractive, challenging stare ever watching you go to town

tbh minho is fucking terrifying with his self control in and outside of the bedroom

like he’d be able to answer questions and act completely normal despite his dick being halfway down your throat

pretends to laugh at a comment when instead he reached a hand under and toyed with your clit, gathering your wetness on two fingers to smear on the side of your lips

what he was laughing at? how pathetic you sounded mewling and dripping with need as if you weren’t the one who decided to give him head rn

would def end the live a tad bit early, finally succumbing to the handjob you provided where he came all over your face with the sluttiest moan

10/10 would bend you over and fuck you on the table after

10/10 would keep your legs out of business for a good five to six days (i stand by my claim)

CHANGBIN :

binnie is so fucking transparent idek if he could hide it

but like, he makes weird noises anyways so tbh stay probably wouldn’t bat an eye

sooo needy

gently grabs your chin while you kitty lick his mushroom tip and gives you most pleading stare

if he could’ve telepathically communicated, he would definitely been begging

funny considering how he basically bred you into the mattress the night before , right?

you resort to kissing his swollen cock, ensuring he’s watching when you collect his beading precum on a finger, bringing it up to your lips

to say he held back a moan doesn’t even cut it, poor baby might’ve bit his tongue off atp from your adorable eye contact and the mere image alone

gets frantic enough he blasts gods menu full volume and “suddenly” gets a text from Hyunjin saying he “needs to go”

a.k.a needs to blow

dude absolutely explodes

his moans are the cutest by far >>>

cums all over your face muttering soft “please please please” over and over while his fat cock basically ropes messy strings

he swore he’s never came harder in his life

andddd that’s how you got introduced to edging changbin!!!

jk, it just fueled your obsession with it further ;)

HYUNJIN :

prob the cutest of them all when you give him head under the table

he just feels so good and loved from your attention and the pleasure

has the dreamiest of smiles the entire time despite the music being obnoxiously loud to hide the sound

stays love this live bc of how cute he looked the entire time

lots conspired that he was drunk or smthn bc of how smiley he was, cheeks dusted pink

pretended to drop something so he could groan under the table, thigh twitching and abs tightening as he approached his orgasm

definitely grabs your head before he came, brows slightly knit and lips parted as he met your eyes

so fucking sweet after he cums, petting your head and running a light hand on your cheek where his cum smears

pops his thumb in your mouth, softly wiping your bottom lip of his essence

he’s literally delighted i cannot make this up

totally nonchalant apart from groaning under the table which he hid from view

expect either the softest or hardest sex afterwards

like you’re going to either be carried because your legs are out of commission or because he’s feeling romantic :((

HAN :

.. stay are prob getting an equally good treat too

and no they don’t know what was going on, they just know how from a certain timestamp in his most recent live his voice got a whole lot more attractive

expect a sudden raspy pitch, clicking his tongue casually as if his partner wasn’t spoiling him

on any other day he’d be stupidly whiny, crying from the pleasure you provided

today, however, he just let himself dissolve in the ecstasy, breathing in the fresh air on cloud 9

there were some speculations from stay watching, but it only got as far as that

scary enough, he doesn’t make a sound, casually carrying out conversation and answering questions like nothing

that is until you get impatient, pressing hot kisses all over and speeding up the movement of your hand as you fist him, pretty eyes fixating on his face

aha. you see him slightly wince, bidding farewell quickly with a few over-exaggerated poses and blown kisses

stifles a groan as he approached his high, tracing the corner of your lips as he grumbles an excessively attractive:

“now stick your tongue out, ‘don’t what you missing a drop.”

then proceeds to cum all over your lips n mouth, thumbing away some of his residue there

“you’re so messy, bunny, ‘have to teach you some manners, hm?”

FELIX :

he gets so cocky

and it’s one of the hottest things on the planet

watches you through half-lidded eyes as you unbutton his jeans, taking him into your mouth

i feel like no matter how hard you try to rile him up, it just makes him cockier and gives him a visible ego boost

like, not a ‘thinking with my dick only’ type of ego boost, more of a ‘why tf aren’t you reacting rn, please fuck me already at this point’ sort of ego boost

this man most likely turn off the music just to play it risky, forcing you down on his dick when you get too loud

reads comments as you literally deep throat him, eyes tearing up with how he keeps bumping the back of your throat

it’s insane

lifts a brow daringly as he reads a particular comment and you swear you would’ve moaned so fucking loud if it weren’t for him cruelly shoving fingers into your mouth as you fisted him with a hand

breathily sighs as you work faster, blinking a bit slower and hesitating with his answers—a telltale sign he’s close

definitely ends the live earlier, quickly taking off your bottoms to pull you onto his lap and paint your cunt white

voices the most guttural groan, adams apple bobbing as he fills you so full of him

he’s convinced there is absolutely nothing he loves more than stuffing your pussy, nothing

SEUNGMIN :

i will sit in the grave believing seungmin is one of the most god-teir men alive when it comes to head

another rbf (resting bitch face) king btw!!

meanest but also nicest ?? i can’t explain take this how you want

prob sings a song while you suck him off i cannot😭😭

you’d most likely be more affected than he is (or you just can’t tell), bc you’ll be a moaning mess from how nonchalantly he’s already shoved two fingers inside your cunt, guiding your head into a steady rhythm with a spare hand

smiles every time you mewl on his cock, hungrily watching your hips stutter while his fingers curl and rub your pussy sooo good

lmao i bet he hits a high note when you cream(and when he cums too), drowning out the desperate cries you sob from his lap

ends the live without even a trace of what happened, pulling your hair roughly so you meet his eyes, tears freely rolling down your cheeks

“you wanted this so don’t act like you didn’t. open.” he instructs, and you obediently open your mouth for him, showing him your tongue and lips painted with his cum

“swallow.”

his face when you swallow oml he loves seeing his baby behave

mumbles quiet “good girl”’s when you take his fingers coated in your juices into your mouth

honestly.. i could see him buzzing your puffy clit w a bullet vibrator afterwards while you sit on his dick, cooing as you fall apart on top of him, telling you it’s a “reward” while you’re overstimulated and sensitive beyond belief

JEONGIN :

kind of like hyunjin with his unpredictability, he’s either stone cold or an innocent baby

today, however, he was definitely needy, looking adorably confused when you sauntered through the doorway

gasps when you slip under the desk, eyes turning into round saucers as you carefully rid him of his pants then boxers

has to pause on multiple occasions to pull himself together, occasionally turning his head away from the camera to express the overwhelming feeling of your tongue

leaks a quiet, oh so quiet whine in the midst of laughing at a comment

poor bub gets an army of comments asking if he’s feeling sick from how flushed he is

cutie can’t admit how amazing you make him feel 🤭

ends the live abruptly, literally only thinking about cumming in your mouth

desperate AF when he starts mumbling, pulling you off of him to stick out your tongue as he frantically fists his dick, beads of pre-cum decorating the swollen tip

“oh god oh god oh god— cumming, ‘gonna cum, in your mouth? baby please please wanna cum in your mouth— yeah just like that, good girl- fuck-“ is just an example of his barely intelligible moaning

trust that he came hard, strings of apologies falling off his pink lips at the mess he made of your face

oml if you keep sucking him off afterwards?? overstimulated innie is the cutest thing ever

expect lots of begging and neediness 😍

blurboki, july 2023 ©

[cevansbrat0007]

There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?

What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later. 

It was officially time for a reread. 

Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.

Eventually.   

Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie 

So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers. 

Fingers crossed.

Later that Evening…

The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts. 

“Bird?” 

The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter. 

His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels. 

“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.

“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin. 

Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more. 

“Oh baby, I love.” 

Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this. 

You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.    

“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”

“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt. 

“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.

The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall. 

However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.

“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp. 

“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner. 

‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’ 

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.

“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”

Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal. 

Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.       

This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.

Or so you assumed, anyway.

“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”

“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate. 

“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.      

“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.

Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…

You wait. 

It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.

“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.  

“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.

“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”

“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.

“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin. 

“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.  

“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”

You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.  

“Thank you, Ari.” 

“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.” 

And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was. 

“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”

Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.  

“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”

“Why?” 

Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you

“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”

Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.  

“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down. 

But your man’s not done yet. 

You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.

Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more. 

“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.” 

Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words. 

“Ari, wait.” 

“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”

“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs  now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”

“Great. So how about you –”

“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”

Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said. 

“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.

“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”

“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?” 

“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”

“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”

“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”

“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”

“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.” 

You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act. 

“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”

“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”

“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves. 

“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.

“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” 

“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.

“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns. 

“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.

Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking. 

“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.” 

Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”

“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily. 

“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”

END

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[slow-motionlovepotion]

𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:  boston era! joel miller x f!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.6k

𝒂/𝒏: i woke up at 5am this morning and smashed this out rather than working on any of my other numerous wips ~ no beta (or edit), we die like men - minors do not interact.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ ~ sex work, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it kids), slightly coercive behaviour, dirty talk (joel miller has a filthy mouth), creampie, mentions of drug dealing & murder (joel is a drug dealing murderer but that's canon so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone), possessive!joel, kinda mean joel, joel is a tease, degrading language (whore, multiple times), idk i think that's everything

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: pleasure has a price and Joel is willing to pay whatever it takes to have you

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ⇢

Joel often heard talk from the other smugglers, of pretty girls that’d sink to their knees for a few ration cards or a couple of pills. He pretends not to, but he listens, acting like he couldn’t care less about their sordid activities. 

“What about you Miller? You don’t fancy a visit to one of our girls?” Some ratty 20-something asks one day. Joel just rolled his eyes.

“You really think I’d pay for some whore you’ve all had your dicks in?” His disgust is false, an act. In truth, he’s no better than them, couldn’t care less how many guys a woman has fucked before him. 

Besides he’s got Tess. 

Except now he doesn’t. Doesn’t have a warm body to sink into, to fuck his stress out on. She’d cut him off, rightfully so, when she implied she wanted more and he continued to offer her exactly the same. 

So when a comment is made in passing one night: “You hear Danny’s girls got into the whoring business?” His ears perk up. 

He knows Danny, knew Danny, before Danny was resting not entirely in peace. If you were to ever leave the QZ and see a guy who looks an awful lot like Danny but, say, had mushrooms for eyes, no you didn’t. 

Tess had been the one to deliver the bad news to you while Joel had stood uncomfortably in the hallway, listening to your broken sobs through the door. 

Maybe that’s why Joel finds himself knocking at your door, long after curfew, just returned from a run where he’d listened to those arseholes describe in great detail how they’d be paying you a visit, all while Joel kept his back to them, hiding the hardness in his jeans as he’d pictured what he’d do to you himself. He really was no better than them. 

“Joel Miller. To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile but it’s tight and it doesn’t reach your eyes 

“Can I come in?” He asks like this is normal behaviour but that’s the Joel you know, always direct and to the point no matter how rude it comes across. Gritting your teeth you step back, allowing him into your apartment. 

“Nice place” he surveys your home, bathed in a soft pinkish light from the lamp next to your bed, a book discarded on the messy sheets. 

“What do you want Joel?” You try phrasing your question differently to get him to get to the point. You’re tired, it’s been a long day and Joel is not easy company. 

“I heard you’ve become a bit of an entrepreneur, started your own business” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you and you want to slink back to the shadows at his confrontation but you don’t, you stand firm, refusing to buckle under his stare. 

You’d expected word to travel faster, you’d started working about a month after Danny’s untimely demise, all of a sudden fending for yourself, no longer benefiting from the additional earnings afforded the smugglers. You’d tried to keep away from that business, only taking clients that you knew had no connection with the likes of Danny’s friends and Joel Miller but maybe you hadn’t been as careful as you’d thought. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” You challenge. It’s awfully rich of him, coming into your home and giving you his opinion on your job, like his line of work is any better. He’s nothing but a glorified drug dealer and a murderer. 

“Of course not. Why’d you think I’m here?" His tone is serious, this is not a social call, it’s business, your business. 

“I thought you were with Tess?” You ask, more so to give yourself time to actually take in what he’s saying, not because you have any issues providing your services to men of an entangled nature. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask questions” he shoots back

“I don’t, usually. Just looking out for myself, last thing I want is Tess comin’ around here thinking I fucked her man” 

Joel sighs, he’s not her man. Though he’s not surprised you would think that, people thought that before they started fucking and apparently still think that even after they’ve stopped. 

“You ain’t gotta worry about that darlin’” 

“Payment upfront” you concede and Joel nods, pulling a stack of ration cards out of his pocket. 

“What’ll this get me?” He places his payment on your kitchen table and you eye the stack, easily enough ration cards to keep you living comfortably for months. 

“Whatever you want” you say, you’ve done this for much less. But had you not been enticed by the thick wad of cards, you might’ve reconsidered that offer considering everything you know about Joel.

He thinks it over, dropping heavily into the corner of your sofa, one foot on the floor, the other muddying the already stained fabric. 

“C'mere” he commands and when you’re close enough he points to the other end of the sofa “Facin’ me” 

You sit, bringing your knees up to your chest, your t-shirt does nothing to cover your modesty but your shins are blocking the view Joel really wants. 

“Spread those legs darlin’, show me what I’m payin for” he tilts his head expectantly. 

You spread your knees, keeping one leg bent and dropping the other to the floor, your new position almost a mirror of Joel’s. You know he wants more, reaching down you pull the scrap of lace to the side, exposing yourself to his gaze. 

He lets out a groan at the sight of you, cunt glistening despite the fact he’s not even touched you yet. 

“Pretty girl” he breathes. His eyes flick to his offering on the table “Whatever I want?” He confirms and you nod “Ah-ah, words darlin’. I wanna hear you” 

“Yes Joel, whatever you want” his hand flexes on his thigh and you can see the growing hardness in his jeans. 

“Take it off” his command gives you some idea of how this is going to go, he’s going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. 

Your hands find the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips, slipping them down your legs and when you reach your ankles Joel holds his hand out, smirking when you drop the fabric into his waiting hand. 

“And the rest darlin’” You pull your t-shirt over your head, revealing yourself to be bare underneath. The t-shirt drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you lean back, returning to your position, legs spread and on show for him.

Your fingers automatically slide between your legs, spreading your wetness up to your clit, circling the bundle gently. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you, hands quickly working at his belt and jeans, freeing his length with a relieved sigh. 

Thick fingers wrap around his even thicker cock and it’s like your own personal fantasy, Joel Miller thrusting into his fist, just for you.

You increase the pressure on your clit but keep your pace slow, teasing. It’s a dangerous game to play, acting without instruction but while Joel is watching you with heavy eyes and he’s not telling you to stop, you continue, dipping your fingers into your cunt, bringing them up to show him the wetness coating your fingers. 

He doesn’t stop you when you return your fingers to your clit, doesn’t stop you when you pick up the pace or when your breathing starts getting harder. 

In fact he puts on his own show, spitting into his palm and picking up his own pace, twisting his hand over the head, his free hand tracing abstract patterns over his thigh. 

You could get off like this, you’re going to get off like this, legs tensing and core tightening. A gasp gets caught in your throat as your orgasm builds, almost there, and then it’s gone. 

A growl rumbles in Joel’s chest when his hand grabs your ankle and you’re pulled flat on your back. He’s hovering over you, hand pinning both of yours above your head, your thighs hooked over his. 

“Not gonna come on your fingers” he pants by way of explanation, pushing the tip of his cock between your soaked folds, catching your clit and nudging at the entrance to your cunt. “Gonna come on my cock” 

Joel buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp thrust, the stretch is so satisfying it sends a shudder up your spine that has your back arching and your hips tilting down into his, desperate to feel the ache that comes with being too full.

“Look at that, got my entire cock buried in you and you still want more” Joel taunts you, his arm slipping under the arch in your back as he withdraws and pushes back in again. 

“Joel” you gasp as he fucks into you, pulling you down to meet his thrusts. His pace is unrelenting, thick cock dragging against your walls, the slight curve catching just right on that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake and your head go foggy. 

“Say it again darlin’” it comes out as a snarl but there’s a hint of a plea in there. 

“Fuck Joel, oh yes just like that” you push yourself further into him, his arm tightening to keep you there. 

Your shoulders burn and your fingers are going numb with the restricting grip of Joel’s hand around your wrists. It’s intimate, too intimate, Joel’s breath hot on your face and his entire body flush against yours. Joel must think so too because he pulls out, hand around your waist flipping you over so your face is pushed into the cushions and your hips are raised. Before you can even catch your breath he’s forcing himself back into you.

“Fuck, so tight. Especially for a whore” you don’t expect your cunt to clench at that and Joel definitely doesn’t expect it either. He lets out a shocked laugh “You like that? Being called a whore?” He pulls out and slides back in, the action and his question pulling a sinful moan from you. 

His pace from this angle isn’t so unrelenting but it’s harder and deeper, his hips and thighs flush against yours as he bottoms out, pulling out so you can just feel him resting at your entrance, so you feel the stretch of every thrust, over and over and over again. 

“Such a whore, letting anyone fuck this cunt for a couple ration cards” his hand grabs your hair, tugging so your back is pressed to his chest and his arm wraps around your waist, thumb flicking over your sensitive nipple. The hand in your hair pulls, turning you to face towards the table and his payment “My whore now. Those cards should be plenty enough that you don’t need to do this with anyone else” 

Like this, his cock nudges that spot inside you again and this time you cry out, ragged moans falling from your lips with every snap of his hips. And his words, god his words, wash over you like a too hot shower burning your skin. 

“All mine, just for me. Not gonna let anyone else touch you” You don’t realise that’s a question until you feel a sharp smack to your rear. “Tell me you’re not gonna let anyone else touch you”

“Not gonna” you shake your head as you speak “only you” 

“Tha’s my girl” he murmurs and oh you like that, the idea of being Joel’s girl, being the one he spends his nights buried inside. 

“Yes, your girl, just for you” His mouth is on your neck and he bites down as you speak, sucking bruises onto your skin. 

If it was anyone else you’d tell them to stop, no one wants a whore marked by another man but he owns you now so you let him. Hand reaching up to grab his hair, keeping his mouth on you, giving him permission. 

His free hand works its way between your legs, flicking your clit with practised fingers and you’re suddenly right on the edge, release within reach, you just need a little bit more. As if Joel can sense exactly what you need his mouth breaks from your neck and his lips find your ear 

“Is my whore gonna come for me?” He teases, pulling a frantic litany of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ from you. “C’mon then” 

The waves that had been steadily building crash over you, shaking violently as your cunt tightens and flutters around his cock, pulling him in deeper. Light bursts behind your eyes and your hands claw at his arm keeping you upright, nails biting into his skin. You don’t hear the scream you let out but you feel it burning in your chest and your throat. Your ears are ringing, muffling the sound of Joel talking you through it. 

When you finally return to yourself Joel is still thrusting into you, your head resting heavily on his shoulder behind you.

“Gonna come in this cunt, fill you up” that snaps you back to reality 

“No. Joel you can’t- can’t do that” you panic slightly, wanting to push him away but he’s too strong, grip too tight.

And really, if you’re being entirely honest, you don’t actually want to push him away, you want to take what he gives you but it’s unrealistic and you can’t let yourself want that. 

“Yeah I can, you’re mine now. Or have you forgotten already?” You shake your head, no you haven’t forgotten but no he still can’t come inside you “don’t worry’ll get you the mornin’ after pill” 

His words are slurred and his thrusts are losing rhythm and you realise he’s holding back, waiting for you to say yes. His arm around you squeezes in warning and you can feel him tense behind you. This is it, the ultimate trust exercise and it’s now or never. Your hand entangles with his around your waist and you nod. 

“Fuck, yeah. Want it, wanna feel you fill me” His fingers tighten under yours and he picks up speed, fucking into you sloppily and panting against your temple. 

With a final thrust and a groan you can feel in your own chest Joel spills into you, holding himself so deep it’s painful, ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on your walls with every drop of his release. 

“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me” he breathes hot into your ear, hips twitching as he comes down from his high. He doesn’t let you go straight away, naked frame held tight against his fully clothed one. You untangle your hand from his when your legs start to ache, knees protesting as they dig into the well worn sofa, slumping forward when Joel finally releases you. 

Your body is exhausted, eyes heavy and stinging with the effort of keeping them open. Joel’s up and redressed before you even think about reaching for your t-shirt, uncaring as you lay naked on your sofa, marked body on display for him. 

Joel’s calloused fingers trace the blossoming bruises that litter your neck and shoulders, his touch surprisingly tender. His hands find yours and help you up so you’re sitting, holding your t-shirt out to slip into, the marks on your neck are visible above the neckline of your shirt and a dark sense of pride washes over him.

“I meant what I said, enough cards there to keep you comfortable for a while, don’t wanna hear you’ve been whoring yourself out again” His confession takes you by surprise, you honestly hadn’t thought he meant it, men say all sorts of things in the throes of passion, you’d know.

The realisation sends a shiver down your spine, you’re his girl now and you don't mind that one bit, the kept woman of Joel Miller.

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[angelsinthejungle]

deep throat baby such sweet sounds

cw: restraining, first time, soft domme, deep throat, slight humiliation, reader performing. short read. this is a bit diff than usual, idk what came over me heh 😅

More smut

Chains clink against the hook suspended above. He’s been naked for a half hour now. Standing with his hands bound high, his back stretching feline like. His legs are splayed and tied to a bar. He’s unable to move anywhere only rotate. I spoon up against his back. My soft breasts and leather strapped lingerie presses against his warm skin.  

Slowly, I reach around him trailing my fingernails down his chest, up his shoulders, under his arms, tickling his tummy. I pinch hard on his nipples. He squirms around “mmmmpphmmm-ing” making sweet pathetic noises as I tease him. His mushroom head swollen and leaky with precum, I massage it. It’s so slippery and juicing, making my hand glide quickly.

“You like that baby hmmm?” My arms lock onto him as I jerk him off from behind. “Ahhh, fuck, yes.” He groans. His hips jut forward but my grasp is too tight holding him in place.

I lick around his tip and slide him in my mouth. I tug on his balls. “Mmm my baby taste so good. mmm.” My eyes water up as I start to push him in. I don’t want him knowing this is my first time deep throating. So I hide it best I can. 

His hips eager, lean in trying to push forward deeper into my throat, I let him. My cheeks flush a burning red complimenting my swollen lips around his girth. I gag. I start coughing and crying. The salt of my tears sting my cheeks. 

He has the nerve to look me in the eyes, “baby girl can’t handle it huh?” He smirks out.

His head falls back and I quickly release, pulling him out of me. Catching my breath. We don’t break eye contact as I stand up and slap his face. I leave the room. I leave him alone and confused. For minutes that turn into 30. Letting him wonder. What is she doing? What is she feeling? Is she really mad? Would she ever leave me like this?

After awhile I come back and shut the glass door. He sees a reflection of my ass before my hands swiftly tie a mask around his eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Open your mouth” I demand. He turns away mumbling out small complaints. Gently I guide his face back to me and pucker his lovely lips introducing a ball gag between them. He feels a wrapping and tie pulled taut around his waist. He hears a small jingling and feels a pleasant brush through his hair. He’s trying to speak to me but I don’t really care.

I untie his eyes. His reflection makes him wince— in kitty ears, a pink ball gag, and a cute ribbon tied around his waist. It makes him muzzle out in embarrassment. I lift his chin “got something to say?”

On my knees I grab his thighs, push and pull him in and out my mouth, at my speed.

He hears me gagging and feels the wet slaps of my tears every time my face smacks into his groin. He fixates on my doe eyed face in distress and determination. His body shaking in pleasure. 

I grip his ass and push him into my face until I’m smushed against his pelvis. I’m gagging and drooling uncontrollably. Spit bursts out the sides of my mouth. Upon pulling away to catch a breath, strands pool together keeping us connected.

I knead his dick with the back of my throat, clenching my muscles tight massaging his tip making him “awh” out endlessly. 

I start bobbing myself so hard into him I’m pushing his hips backward; sopping up his swoll dick in my mouth.

“Ah-awh” he muzzles out as he cums. I grab his ass and push him deep in my throat, taking him all in, struggling but swallowing him all. He clenches up, his hips bucking forward into my face as he cums. He is moaning and whimpering against his ball gag, it’s making his kitty ears jingle. “Ahh my baby makes such sweet sounds.”

💋 angelsinthejungle

[gracegootee]

As Long as We’re Together

- - - - - - - -

It’s been a month since the battle with Bowser and Mario noticed his little brother Luigi wasn’t acting like his usual self.

A week after the battle, Princess Peach offered the brothers to move into the Mushroom Kingdom. They stayed at her castle until their home was built and they were moved in but the nights at the castle were somewhat say not so peaceful most nights.

Mario would wake up in the middle of the night to hear Luigi talking to himself over the balcony, fidgeting with his hands and whenever Mario asked if he was alright, his brother would would answer back with “I’m fine” or “yes.” “No.” and trying to fake a smile, hiding his wrists with his sleeves.

Even while doing their plumbing work Luigi was quiet. Sure he would make a joke here and there but he barely spoke a word except for when they told each other good night.

It’s been a month of this now. Mario thought to himself, sitting at the kitchen table in their new mushroom home, with his coffee getting cold and Luigi, who was still asleep at 8 in the morning. Lu was up until 2, having trouble falling asleep. It was time Mario had a talk with his brother on what was troubling him.

Later that day after work, Mario prepared some chamomile tea for his brother and walked up to him, who was sitting at the table reading the Mushroom Kingdom newspaper quietly.

“Hey, Lu.” said Mario, giving him his tea. “I’ve noticed you’ve been quiet lately and to me I think something is bothering you.”

Lu stopped sipping his tea and cleared his throat. “I-I’m fine, Mario. Really.” He started fidgeting with his hands again. Mario placed his hand on his shaky brother’s hands.

“Hey,” the oldest said with a calm tone. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what’s going on…alright.”

Lu smiled and nodded. He was quiet for a few minutes, looked down, and let out a sigh. “I…I…”

He couldn’t finish the words without his voice starting to break and yelled. “I-I’m scared!”

Mario gave his little brother a worried look. “Scared of what, Lu.”

“My nightmares…”

Mario thought for a moment and moved his chair next to his brother. “You want to talk about it?”

Luigi nodded. “There are nights where either I can’t sleep or because I have a nightmare about…” the tears were starting to show in his glossy eyes. He tried to calm himself down before continuing.

“…the Dark Lands” Luigi continued. “I would be chased down by Bowser’s henchmen and before I could make it to the warp pipe, Bowser would be standing right there and throw me across the forest, slam me into trees, or striking me with his claws, and before I wake up screaming my nightmares always end with either Bowser hurting you in front of me while I’m pinned down on the hot ground or killing m-“ he couldn’t finish the last word as he broke down crying at the table, burying his face in his arms.

He muffled under his shaking breath with his face still buried and he looked away from his brother with his head now resting on his arms.

“Back when I first met Bowser he…he tortured me, pulled my stache, threw me, leaving me with a bruise on my side and shoulders and before that I was pulled tight on the wrists by the shy guys when I was captured to be brought to Bowser.”

Mario’s eyes widened when Luigi showed his wrists, burned-like with rope marks and Mario noticed the bruise on Luigi’s shoulder.

Mario was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Lu?”

Luigi looked at Mario, tears still running down his face. “I was afraid and didn’t want to worry you…I-I’m sorry Mario! I’m sorry! I’m-“ he started to breathe heavily, trying to stop himself from crying.

Mario held Luigi’s hands. “Luigi, listen to me.” Luigi, trying to calm himself down, listened to his brothers comforting voice. “You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me anything, okay. We’re brothers and as long as we’re together everything is going to be okay…okay?”

Luigi smiled, sniffled and gave Mario the biggest hug, burying his face in his brothers shoulders as he let Mario hug him back.

Lu cried more and finally calmed himself down as Mario told him.

“I love you, little brother.”

Luigi sniffled and said back “I love you too, grande fratello.” After a month of these nightmares, Luigi knew the nightmares would go away, now that he was open with his brother and told himself everything’s gonna be okay.

He closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep on his brothers shoulders. Mario guided Luigi to his bed, had him cover up with his green plaid comforter, and turned on his nightlight

“Night-night, Mario.” Luigi said sleepily, then sound asleep, snoring.

Mario smiled and gave his little brother a kiss on the head.

“Goodnight fratellino.”

Mario crawled into his bed and turned off his light. Falling asleep as he knew that their new life and everything was going to be okay.

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

First time posting an angsty/heartwarming story on here!!❤️💚

I had to use Google translate for the Italian words and I’m not sure if Google translate is 100% right.😂

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Plumbers log, 311016

I have an Experience that I feel needed to be talked about

It was Halloween. I wouldn't think anything of it normally.

I started the day like any other. I had woken up in my bed. Sleeping in as I only had one appointment

I had showered. I gotten dressed. And walked down the stairs to our kitchen.

Meggy was already up, as was Peach.

I remember we had my wife's favorite in the morning. A steak and tofu omelette. Personally I can't stand eggs or tofu. But I forced myself to eat the dish. I would just stop by Retties or Paisansos to get a Pizza de Salami later.

I talked with Peach and Meggy. Peach had a normal agenda for the day. An appearance at the E.A.C.H. center as well as some appearances at some gatherings.

Meggy was going to hang out in the castle. she did not really seem interested in trick-or-treating. Truthfully, it seems like she changes her mind every other year. I guess it has to do with her hiding her hair under her hat. But I try to be supportive anyway.

I finished my cappuccino and grabbed my toolbox.

I needed to stop by Wundeshwun. I ran through the obstacle course for old times sake. I swear. Changing the flag with your own never gets old.

Though once I re-replace the when that's supposed to be there. It becomes a little less fun.

I picked up a part I needed. Though as it was afternoon when I got the part. I decided to get lunch at Retties.

I only ate a small 10 inch Supreme Pizza. Of course I did leave some room for dessert with about six cannolis.

Unfortunately as I was about to enjoy my seventh. I got an alert from Castle town on my flip phone.

Mama mia.

It was Tatanga. I haven't fought him since 2006 when I was scouting and whether or not me and Peach wanted to have our wedding on the moon.

I rushed immediately to Castle town after stuffing the other three cannolis in my mouth and paying.

Tatanga was wrecking everything. Honestly if it wasn't for the fact he was an evil alien, I would have written a letter of recommendation to my old boss in college Spike.

I jumped between some broken rubble and an unwrecked building.

This pesky conqueror was here to conquer the kingdom. Mostly out of Revenge for me saving my cousin-law Daisy back in the eightys.

We fought for a bit. I jump on his head and he attacks.

He managed to actually get some good hits up at me.

I landed in a museum. Honestly, I'd say I might have been done for if I haven't been through this trouble before.

Tatanga was about to attack.

When suddenly. I heard a yell. Coming from the other side of the hall.

It was some kid in an employee uniform with a bush with super balls.

He started throwing them at Tatanga.

I'm not sure what happened. But the attack made by this kid made Tatanga retreat.

I dusted myself off. And was going to thank the kid. But before I could, I was surrounded by fans and news reporters. I did make sure to thank the kid on the news but I think he was pushed out of the way so he couldn't see it in person.

Later in the day when I came back home to the castle. I asked Toadsworth for a favor. I asked him if he could bring the kid here. I'd like to thank him personally and offer him a medal.

I got myself ready in the evening.

I would invite him into the meeting room we use for battle strategies and paying our taxes. I even brought out a couple slice of my favorite cake, pepperoni cheesecake.

I did do a little bit of book learning to see who this kid was. His name is Garth and he was in the news about a year ago. He was unfortunately taken from his home from a device that acts like a warp pipe.

I can understand the feeling. If it wasn't for Luigi, the princess, and Toad. I would have never gotten used to the Mushroom Kingdom

When the kid arrived. I explained that it was an honor for him to be there. I could see the smile on his face. He explained that he was a big fan of my Adventures.

As I was about to actually show him the medal. He said something that's shook me to my core

"you've done so much good for this world and met so many amazing people people. You've been to the Underwhere and back. You fought Bowser and saved Princess Peach dozens of times. You've helped places like New Donk City, Rapland, Dome City, Rogue Port, New York City, Pilloh Island..."

He kept going on and on about all the stuff I've done for quite some time.

I've never heard it told so passionately.

I decided to make a decision.

I would offer this kid a chance to be my Apprentice and take over my title of SUPER

I'll do it as a thank you. A chance for him to be a hero like me. Since he looked up to me.

I assume that he might resign.

But there is a chance that he might prove himself. I can see him becoming SUPER

...

SUPER Garth.

It has a nice ring to it.

But only time will tell.

[peaches2217]

⚡️

For the longest time, I’ve always headcanoned Peach being afraid of thunderstorms, since that’s usually the kind of weather Bowser likes to strike in.

⚡ - Scared of thunderstorms

You, my friend, are a genius.

Hiding

~~~

As soon as the Shiverian ambassador took his leave and the doors shut behind him, Peach slumped back in her seat. Typically she waited at least another ten seconds, just to make sure she was truly alone, but her mind was reeling so violently she could feel it in her bones. All she wanted was a moment’s rest.

Discussing trade routes and the renewal of international contracts while also pretending nothing was wrong in the face of constant threat proved difficult.

“Are you alright?” the most tender, most compassionate voice she’d ever had the honor of knowing inquired, and instantly she felt just a bit lighter. 

Mario had already relaxed his attentive and dignified posture in favor of stretching his arms over his head. This was normally where he’d crack wise about his aching muscles, how agonizing it was to stand in one spot for so long, his eagerness to spend the rest of the day on the move, but he offered nothing of the sort today. His eyes had caught hers during the meeting more than once. He knew she was in distress.

And why was the great Mushroom Princess in such distress? What threat loomed over her and caused her endless torment?

A thunderstorm. She was scared of a sodding thunderstorm.

With each crash of thunder, she had been forced to gather handfuls of her skirts under the table and hang onto the emissary’s every word to keep her own mind centered, or count each of his whiskers, or follow every last stitch and weave of his parka when the old creature began to ramble aimlessly. Losing face wasn’t an option. Revealing that one of her greatest fears was a fear shared by many a small child was equally unacceptable. Even so, keeping it reigned in for so long was exhausting. 

Each time their eyes met, Mario had nodded to her, a silent promise that nothing and no one would hurt her. Now that they were alone, she could feel the pent-up tension leaving her body. She had been safe all along. She could be no safer than she was now.

She smiled and prepared to assure him that she was alright, if tired and a bit frustrated — but an ear-splitting crack of thunder froze her before she could utter a single sound.

The bright and familiar delegation room went dark around her, and suddenly she was alone in her bed, shivering but not knowing why. Unpleasant sensations overwhelmed her huddled form. A sense of dread so heavy it nauseated her. Quick, shallow breaths, too frightened to fill her lungs properly.

Her bed covers ripped back and ice-cold claws wrapping around her.

“Peach?”

WIth a gasp, she was back in the delegation room. The silk of her dress stuck uncomfortably to her skin with sweat, yet a shiver still ran down her spine.

Eyes of the gentlest blue fixated on her.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself forward and bury her face into his chest, grip the straps of his overalls, weep and beg him to take away her memories of that night. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

Mario held her gaze as she calmed herself, whispering reassurances all the while — “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” anything and everything she needed to hear in that moment. He had taken her hands at some point and held them securely within his own. She was shaking, she realized, yet he was so steady, so stable against her.

Thunder rumbled once more outside of the window, distantly this time. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands.

“I feel so childish,” Peach whispered, her throat tight.

“You’re not.” Mario squeezed her hands briefly before dropping one to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, and she sighed against his touch. He was far too understanding. Far too patient.

After another moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Peach couldn’t help a rueful smile, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his palm. “Like I want to curl up and hide.”

Thunder. She flinched and willed herself to focus on his touch, the warmth of his skin which permeated his gloves. She willed herself not to go back to that night. It was over. She was safe now. She was home safe, and Bowser was down for the count, and the one who always came through for her was right here.

Something in Mario’s expression shifted when she opened her eyes. He studied her face for a moment, and she in turn studied his, watching as a sort of enlightenment bloomed across his features.

He squeezed her hand once more and gave a single nod of his head. “Then let’s hide.”

And before she could ask any questions, he pulled her from her seat and led her out of the room and into the grand halls of the palace.

No one gave them a second glance as he led her towards the southern wing wherein lay her quarters. Mario had been a castle mainstay for years now, serving as her personal daytime guard for most of that time. There was nothing unusual about him escorting her to her room, especially in light of recent events, namely the two months she was kept as Bowser’s prisoner after being taken by force in the dead of night.

Mario had risked and almost lost his life ensuring it never happened again. Even so, he and the entire royal council agreed that there was no keeping the princess too safe. So in the interest of her security, he was assigned to watch over her at all times; he spent his days accompanying her as per usual and spent his nights on a cot in her drawing room, always on high alert, her ever-faithful, ever-selfless guard.

At least, that was the official story. In truth, nothing kept him there past sunset beyond his own free will and her tentative request, and the idea of sleeping on opposite sides of her bedroom door fell through within the first hour of the first night. Now she dozed each evening and woke each morning tucked safely into his arms. But no one aside from them and their closest friends needed to know that yet.

They made it to her room quickly and without incident, and Peach was almost ashamed of the relief she felt. Already she was eager to hide beneath the blankets with him. She would happily flop right onto the mattress, heels, makeup, crown and all.

Once inside, Mario took hold of the uppermost duvet… and yanked it completely off of the bed. Not what she had been expecting, but he’d never led her astray before, he wouldn’t start now. Right?

She observed in stupefied silence as he brought the blanket over to her desk, a sturdy and ornate piece with a roll top and an empty cubicle framed by drawers, large enough for her to freely move her legs during long hours of study (or swing them like a giggling teenager when writing to her beloved hero). Mario pulled her chair out from its nesting place within that cubicle and began arranging the blanket in its place, singling out the heaviest objects on the desktop to keep it held in place.

It hung in front of the entrance like a curtain, and she felt her face go warm in embarrassment when she realized what he was doing.

“...You’re making a blanket fort.”

“Nope!” He remained focused on his work, his bushy mustache unable to hide his cheerful smile. “This will be much cozier than a blanket fort. Nice, dark, quiet—” he stepped back to admire his work, then turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Perfect hiding spot!”

She was so baffled that she didn’t even notice another round of thunder.

“This isn’t really helping the, you know, ‘feeling childish’ thing,” she confessed. Bless her Mario, her sweet, brave, noble Mario, she knew his intentions were nothing but pure, and yet…

He hummed in understanding, yet he remained every bit as bright. “No, no, Princess,” he said, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “I promise, there’s nothing childish about it! Luigi does it sometimes you know. Whenever he’s anxious or all his senses are overloaded? He’ll back a table against the wall, throw a blanket over it, crawl inside, e ecco qua! He emerges a new man.”

Stubbornly, Peach tried not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Yet the combination of Mario’s impassioned description and the mental images it invoked wrenched a smile from her all the same.

He was being serious. And for some reason, she was buying into it. Stars above she loved this man.

“...Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

Mario cheered and gave her knuckles a quick kiss before rushing back to the improvised hideaway, lifting one corner of the blanket and ushering her inside. “Your Highness.”

Everything within Peach protested as she sank to her knees in front of her desk and crawled inside. She ignored it and busied herself pulling layer after layer of silk into the enclosure; once she had succeeded in stuffing herself and her dress inside, Mario dropped the blanket back into place, and everything went dark.

Peach blinked, settling into her chosen corner and assessing her emotions as they played out. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. Worse yet — she felt secure. He was right. There was something oddly comfortable about this setup. For a moment, she entertained the thought of some villain entering her room, only to leave in a huff upon seeing her bed empty, as though this little alcove were a secret and private extension of the castle rather than a desk with a blanket draped over it.

Thunder, uncomfortably close this time.

“So what do you think, Princess?” Mario asked almost as soon as she registered the thunder. Her pulse quickened, and briefly her mind took her back to that fateful night, but she swallowed heavily and replied before it could take hold of her.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “But it’s a bit roomy for my taste.”

“Oh?”

“You could easily fit two more of me in here, or maybe three Toads.”

“Or… maybe one portly plumber?”

“I was thinking a dashing, handsome knight, actually.” Peach’s trepidation faded to the back of her mind at his bashful chuckle. For someone so outgoing, he flustered so easily.

She heard a soft thud, and then light poured back into the enclosure as Mario lifted the blanket to crawl in with her. A lovely blush still colored his cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t trample your dress.”

“I have at least ten more in this exact pattern.”

He puffed out his chest in a dramatized show of confidence. “Then here we go!”

They spent at least three or four minutes twisting about, accidentally elbowing one another in the face or in the stomach, giggling together as they tried and mostly failed to accommodate the mass of her skirts and his, well, everything. But eventually they found a comfortable position: Mario pressed his back into one corner with his knees bent, and Peach half-sat half-laid in his lap facing the opposite direction, her cheek on his shoulder and her skirts swallowing the remaining space.

“There we go!” Mario shifted beneath her, and once he settled, he rested his arms around her waist. “Nice and safe, see? No one will find us here. Nothing will hurt us.”

Peach hummed and relaxed against him, draping her arms loosely around his torso. That was something he’d started doing lately, she noticed. It was never “me” and “you” anymore, it was “we”, “us”. Was it intentional? Did he even know he was doing it?

Whatever the case, she hoped he’d continue. She liked thinking of themselves as a set, two inseparable pieces of one cohesive whole.

A clap of thunder even closer than the last pierced the air around them. She gasped on instinct, her body going cold, but immediately Mario’s arms tightened around her, and he drowned out the noise with a stream of reassurances. He sounded so resolute, so certain of what he was saying. And in the darkness surrounding them, they may as well have been the only two people in the world.

Peach snuggled into his warmth and let her fears be carried away on the wings of his promises. He had never led her astray before. He wouldn’t start now.

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 3

“I told you he’d be hiding out!” the voice exclaims, echoing through the empty balcony.

I quickly step away from Chris and turn towards the sliding glass door, my heart pounding in my chest. I recognize one of the men approaching us - it’s the friend from the elevator.

“Channie! Why do you always do this?” he exclaims, exasperated as he finally reaches us. He stops abruptly when he notices me standing there, a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. “Ah, 10th floor girl. I should have known,” he chuckles, taking a swig from the champagne bottle in his hand. 

“It’s Kay,” I correct him, feeling a little annoyed with this new nickname they had given me.

"Kay," Chan introduces with a quick nod of his head. "These are two more of my brothers, Changbin and Jisung." He gestures towards the two men who had joined us on the balcony. "The three of us run the business together."

The man who was in the elevator introduces himself as Changbin and extends his hand towards me. "It's nice to meet you officially," he says with a warm smile. I return the handshake, noticing his muscular build and intense demeanor. Despite his intimidating appearance, his smile brightens up his entire face.

"Hey," I reply. "I've seen you around here quite often. Do you live in this building too?"

“Oh, I live on the 24th floor,” he says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. The champagne bottle glints in the light as he offers it to me, and I can't resist taking my glass off the table to be filled. He pours me a generous amount.

“Ah, the other penthouse,” I note, impressed by how obviously successful their business must be. But then my eyes are drawn to his outfit - or lack thereof. "And where are your sleeves?" I ask, noticing that they've been ripped from his crisp business shirt. I gently remove a stray thread from one of his shoulders.

"Who needs sleeves when you've got these!" He grins, flexing his toned arms for emphasis. His muscles bulge and ripple under his skin, making it hard not to be slightly attracted to his physique and seemingly fun personality. It makes me laugh. 

Jisung, the other brother, lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes in response to Changbin’s antics. His piercing gaze is framed by long lashes and dark, unruly hair that falls into his face. His features are charmingly eccentric, somewhat resembling a sexy squirrel. It doesn't help that he's currently popping stuffed mushroom caps into his mouth with a mischievous glint in his eye. His puffy cheeks and slightly larger teeth only add to his playful charm. Despite being around the same height as Chris, he has a leaner build. "You can call me Han," he says, brushing past Changbin to eagerly shake my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Han," I reply with a smile. "Do you also live here?"

"No," Han responds. "This building is a bit much for my taste. My partner and I live a few blocks away.” A smirk crosses his face before he continues, “Sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were getting into out here." Han's eyes flicker mischievously between Chris and myself.

Han then turns to address Chris. "But Marco and his people are about to leave. We really need to get this shit sorted and that paperwork signed before he walks out that door." His tone is urgent, hinting at a deeper sense of tension behind the casual facade of his words. “We can’t afford any additional delays.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Han's words hang in the air.

Changbin took another swig from the bottle in his hand before saying firmly, "He's stalled these negotiations long enough. If it's not taken care of now, we'll have to resort to drastic measures. And I know you want this resolved quickly so that it doesn't get out of hand... Again." His voice is filled with frustration.

Chris let out a weary sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "Ah shit. Okay," he says, rubbing his face tiredly. "Let's deal with it then." He turns to me apologetically. "I'm sorry. Do you mind waiting for me? This shouldn't take more than 30-45 minutes."

I shake my head. "No problem," I reply calmly. "Go take care of what you need to. I'll be here," I assure him.

"Let's go," Chris says decisively, motioning for Han and Changbin to head back inside.

With a small nod, Changbin passes me the bottle of champagne before sliding open the glass door and disappearing back into the bustling living room. Han gives me a smile and says a quick goodbye before trailing behind Changbin.

"Bye," I reply softly.

Chris grasps my hand and squeezes it briefly. "Sorry," he whispers, his eyes conveying a sense of remorse as he walks backwards towards the sliding glass door and slips through it, closing it behind him with a soft click.

The air feels heavy and I’m left alone with my thoughts and worries until Chris returns. I sink into one of the plush loungers on the balcony, pulling Chris' jacket tighter around my shoulders. I take comfort in his scent that still lingered on the fabric. My gaze returns to the view from the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Slowly sipping on the remaining champagne, I let my mind wander. After some time, I check my phone only to realize I had been lost in thought for nearly an hour.

Feeling slightly restless and a little buzzed, I reenter the party and scan the crowded room for any sign of Chris. When I can’t find him, I decide to retreat back to my apartment. As I walk towards the elevator, I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment on where the night could have gone.

--

I’m seconds from falling asleep on the couch when a sharp knock on the door jolts me awake. I groggily check my watch and see that it’s just past 1:30 in the morning, a mere two hours since I left the party.

I crack the door open to find Chris standing there, holding two bottles of champagne in one hand and a tray of delectable desserts in the other. He's dressed down in a black hoodie, loose basketball shorts, white socks, and black Nike slides. His hair is slightly damp with curls at the ends, giving him a disheveled but attractive look. It’s the most casual and relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he presents his gifts. "I come with an apology and a peace offering…if you'll have me."

I can't help but smile at his boldness as I open the door wider to let him in. "Chocolate and alcohol are always solid apology gifts," I quip back.

He enters the room, sliding off his shoes and leaving them by the door. I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but he still manages to flash me a bright smile. "I'm so glad you're still awake," he says, his voice heavy with relief. He walks into the living room, carefully placing the bottles and tray on the coffee table. I close the front door behind me and follow him, admiring the way his broad shoulders and ass move as he walks. When he turns around, he pulls me into a deep hug, holding me tightly against his chest. It’s the type of hug you give someone you’ve known forever, but I don’t question it. Instead, I close my eyes and relish in the warmth of his body against mine as he whispers in my ear, "I missed you." 

Inhaling deeply, I take in the comforting scent of his body wash. Is that a mix of lavender, musk, and a hint of vanilla? I ask myself. He places soft kisses along my neck before pulling away and taking a step back to look at me. His gaze sweeps over my body, taking in the cropped tank top and shorts.

"I really like this look," he says with a hint of mischief in his voice as his hand caresses the exposed skin just below my top. "You were wearing something similar when I stopped by the other day. It took all of my willpower not to touch you," he confesses, his voice low and husky.

A laugh escapes my lips as I sit down on the couch, feeling giddy and flattered by his words. "I probably would have let you," I tease before making myself comfortable on the couch.

Chris chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of desire and amusement. He takes a seat beside me on the couch, our thighs brushing gently against each other. The air between us crackles with an undeniable tension, a magnetic pull drawing us closer together. "Well, good thing I came prepared tonight then," Chris says with a playful glint in his eyes. He proceeds to uncork both of the champagne bottles. He hands one to me and picks up the other. We clink the bottles together before taking a sip.

“Fuck the glasses, huh?” I ask before taking another slip. “So classy,” I chuckle.

“Only the best for you,” he laughs. “This champagne is $300 a bottle!” Chris reaches for one of the desserts on the tray and offers it to me with a smile. "Try this one first," he suggests, his eyes fixed on my face as I take a bite. The sweetness of the treat dances on my taste buds, and I let out a satisfied hum. "Delicious," I comment, earning a pleased grin from Chris. With a gentle touch, he takes his thumb and wipes away the smudge of rich, melted chocolate left at the corner of my mouth. He brings his thumb to his lips, teasingly licking off the remnants of the sweet treat before he picks up something else for me to try.

We go back and forth feeding each other different desserts while indulging in the champagne. As we chat and laugh, I find myself drawn to Chris even more than I had earlier. His easy smile and genuine laughter were infectious, and he seems more relaxed here than he was at his own party. The tension from earlier in the evening melted away, replaced by a sense of intimacy that felt both thrilling and terrifying. 

We pass the time in deep conversation, baring our souls and recounting memories from our pasts. We lose track of time as we sit side by side, lost in each other’s words and getting tipsy from all the champagne and sugar. As the night progresses, our hands seem to have a mind of their own, slowly inching closer and closer until they are intertwined, our fingers lacing together. Our bodies also start to gravitate closer together.

“Can I ask you something?” I say turning my body towards him, settling one leg on the couch.

His free hand starts to gently caress my thigh. He nods, looking into my eyes, “Anything.”

“I heard people referring to you as Chan or Channie," I say, picking up a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a bite. I bring the rest of it to his lips, invitingly. He indulges me, taking a bite, while still staring in my eyes. “What’s that about?” My curiosity piqued, wanting to understand this part of him.

A shy smile creeps onto his face as he answers my question. "Ah, Chan is my Korean name," he says, his eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "It's actually my middle name, but everyone in the tight-knit Korean community we grew up in called me Chan. They felt Chris was too westernized. It kinda stuck."

I nod, taking in this new information about him. The scent of fresh strawberries fills the air as I lick the juice from my fingers, unable to resist their sweet stickiness. "Interesting," I say, meeting his gaze again. "And what about hyung?"

He chuckles softly, delighted that I've picked up on this detail. "You have a good ear," he says approvingly. "Hyung basically means older brother. In Korean, we tend to use honorifics as a sign of respect and formality."

My heart flutters as he takes my hand in his own and gently places each finger in his mouth, sucking off the remaining strawberry juice. The intimate gesture sends shivers down my spine. "Anything else you want to know?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive as he leans closer to me. I can feel myself getting lost in his captivating presence.

I shake my head slightly, feeling a rush of desire and nervousness swirling inside me at his proximity. "Not right now," I manage to whisper back, my voice barely above a breath as I try to steady my racing heart. His thumb strokes my palm gently, sending a wave of electricity through me.

Chris leans in even closer, his gaze locked on mine, his lips hovering just inches away from mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him, mixing with the intoxicating scent of champagne and chocolate that surrounds us. His eyes search mine for any sign of hesitation. But there is none. I meet his gaze with a mixture of longing and anticipation, silently giving him permission to close the distance between us. The room fades away, leaving only the two of us in this suspended moment.

Without breaking eye contact, he closes the small distance between us and captures my lips in a soft, firm kiss. It's like a spark igniting between us, setting off a chain reaction of fireworks in my chest that moves down to my groin. His lips are warm and velvety against mine, moving in sync as if they were made for each other. He pulls me closer to his body until there is no space left between us and I have to wrap my legs around his waist. My hands instinctively find their way to his hair, tangling in the curls I’ve been eyeing all night.

As we kiss, our tongues dance in a rhythm that only fuels our desire. Each touch sending shockwaves of arousal through our bodies. My body presses against his, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

His hands glide up my back, feather-light touches leaving trails of tingling sensations in their wake. I moan softly as his fingertips brush against the sensitive skin between my shoulder blades. One hand boldly ventures forward and cups my breast, his thumb and forefinger teasing and rolling my nipple until it hardens. His other hand moves to rest on my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh as he presses his growing erection against me. I push back into it, craving more of his touch. He groans into my mouth, then he pulls back to whisper hotly in my ear: "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." He tugs at the hem of my tank top, lifting it up and over my head before tossing it aside with urgency, leaving me bare before him. He takes a moment to admire my body. "Beautiful," he breathes as his tongue dips down to flick across my collarbone. Then, he takes one of my breasts into his mouth, the pink of his lips juxtaposed against the smooth brown of my skin, and begins to suck gently, sending waves of pleasure through me. I gasp and cling to him.

As he moves from one breast to the other, I gasp out his name, “Chris….” My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he nibbles and sucks at my sensitive skin. A low chuckle rolls through his chest and mine as he continues his assault on my body. He traces a path of kisses from my tits, past my collarbone and up my neck, stopping to bite gently on my earlobe. "You smell incredible," he whispers against my skin, before capturing my lips in a deep kiss once again.

He scoots back slightly to remove his hoodie and I help him slip it off. "Damnnnn..." I say. I breathe out as my eyes trail down his toned body. His abs are perfectly sculpted, and my hands itch to trace their lines. My fingers tentatively touch the v-shaped line at his hips and work their way up his abs, traveling over his pecks and his shoulders, feeling every inch of him before he leans back in for another kiss.

Chris' hips thrust forward, pressing against me just enough to remind me of what he wants, begging for a release. My teeth graze my lower lip in anticipation as I reach for the waistband of his shorts, tugging at the strings to untie them. As the knot comes undone, I eagerly slip my hand inside his boxers and wrap my fingers around his hard cock. To my surprise, it's thicker than I imagined, filling my hand completely. A low growl escapes Chris' lips as I circle my thumb around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing him with slow strokes up and down his shaft. "Mmmm...you found it," he chuckles. Locking eyes with me, he moves his hand down my belly and into my underwear. A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers explore my wetness, teasing and tantalizing me in all the right ways. His smile grows wider when he feels how ready and eager I am for him. He slips a finger inside me, eliciting a gasp from my lips as I grind down onto it with eagerness. His thumb joins in on the action, rubbing firm strokes over my clit that send sparks of pleasure shooting throughout my body. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"I want you," I reply breathlessly, barely able to form the words as waves of pleasure wash over me.

“Right answer,” he says with a smirk. He removes his hand from between my legs and effortlessly lifts me up, maneuvering us into a new position on the couch. Chris eases himself out from underneath me and gently lays me back on the cushions. He then positions himself between my bent legs, planting soft kisses down my body starting at my lower lip. He moves along my jawline and down my neck. His lips travel further south, leaving a trail of heat and longing in their wake as they make their way to my breasts. Slowly, tantalizingly, he continues his descent until he reaches the soft skin just below my belly button. With practiced ease, he tugs at the waistband of my shorts, coaxing them off my hips with gentle movements. After discarding them, his attention turns to my underwear which he starts to remove teasingly with his teeth, pulling them down inch by inch with maddening slowness.

Just as I am about to lift my hips to help speed the process, his phone suddenly begins to vibrate. With a defeated sigh, he pulls away from me and reaches for the phone on the coffee table. I watch him as he reads the series of messages coming through, his expression changing from frustration to concern, and then a slight hint of anger creeps in.

I sit up, using my elbow to prop me forward. “Everything okay?” I ask.

He shakes his head without looking up from the phone. He sends a message back and places the phone on the table before turning back to me, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry to have to do this to you for the second time tonight.” He sighs, sitting between my legs and kissing the top of my knee. “There’s an emergency that I need to take care of.” He reaches onto the floor and hands me my tank top.

I can’t help but feel disappointed at the interruption, but I can see the seriousness in his eyes and know that something important must have come up. I sit up and pull on the tank top, then hand him his hoodie that had ended up landing on the back of the sofa. “Those damn spreadsheets, huh?” I say, trying to lighten the mood and keeping the other questions I have to myself. I spot my shorts next to his feet and I pull those on too.

He laughs as he puts his arms through the hoody before pulling it over his head. “These fucking spreadsheets are a menace.” He turns to me with a sincere look in his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He hands me his phone. “Put your number in. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gets up and walks to the door, placing his feet in his slides.

I hand him back the phone and I hear the text he sends to mine, ensuring that I have his number as well. “Come here,” he says, softly pulling me in for a tight hug. His strong arms wrap around me and I bury my face into his chest. He pulls back slightly, allowing himself to lean in and press his lips against mine in a passionate, slow kiss. One hand slides down to firmly grip my ass. He finally pulls away and whispers, “Bye,” before slipping out the door.  

[useless19]

It takes Bowser three tries to find a cupboard with food in it and it's only a measly bag of oats at that. Hopefully, Kamek's just behind on the shopping and they haven't been living like this the whole time Bowser's been away. There's a handful of spice jars in the next cupboard; Bowser swipes the lot and then finds a saucepan hiding under the sink.

Oats, water, and a good dollop of fire flower powder to start with on the stove. Porridge is easy and having food on hand always makes it easier to talk things over with people.

"Dad!"

Little claws scramble up the back of Bowser's shell before he can turn around to greet his son. A moment later, Junior drops his chin on Bowser's shoulder and smiles. Bowser ruffles his hair, unable to stop his own grin.

"Hey, kid. Been keeping Kamek in one piece?"

"Urgh, he doesn't let me go fast anywhere," Junior complains. "I have to go as slow as a snail so his shrivelled old toes can keep up."

Bowser laughs. "Atta boy, Junior."

"Are you back for real this time?" Junior asks.

Bowser winces. Junior catches him and whines.

"Junior, we've talked about this," Bowser says firmly. "I have to stay away for now."

"But I miss you," Junior says.

"I know, buddy." Bowser picks Junior off his shell and stands him on the kitchen counter in front of him. Junior is at eye-level, which hadn't been the case the last time Bowser had spoken to him like this. "This job's important, okay? If I keep it for a while longer we'll be set for life." Theoretically, anyway. "You're always number one, but I can't just do what I want and still have things like food and shelter. Sometimes I've gotta do things that aren't fun so you can get tasty stuff every now and then."

Junior looks away mulishly. Bowser sighs. He's been over this several times, but it's never easy to argue against kid logic.

"I miss you," Junior repeats.

"I know." Bowser risks a hug and is relieved when Junior clutches back. "Speaking of food, did Kamek forget to do the shopping this week? Or have you hidden all the good stuff to keep it away from me?"

"I'm hiding it from Wendy," Junior says, exasperated, frustration at Bowser's absence already forgotten. "She steals my choco-mango nuggets and replaces them with rabbit poop and then tells me I've got a diseased tongue because it tastes funny. But I know she did it! My tongue's normal, isn't it, Dad?"

Bowser barely manages to move his head out of the way before Junior sticks his tongue in his eyeball. He scruffs Junior by the shell and drops him down to the ground.

"Your tongue's fine." Bowser waves the sticky spoon at Junior. "If you want anything tasty in your breakfast, you better get it now. It's nearly ready."

"Be right back!" Junior shouts, sprinting out of the pokey kitchen.

Bowser finds Kamek's fine china in pride of place. It's more magic than china now, given that Bowser wasn't the most careful koopaling growing up and now Junior is following almost exactly in his clawed footsteps.

A thundering of feet announce Junior's reappearance. He's got a paper bag with a mushroom logo on it clutched tight in one hand.

"Who's that guy in your bed?" Junior asks. He wrinkles his snout. "He screamed when I saw him."

"Did you wake him up?" Bowser says.

"No, he was already awake," Junior blatantly lies.

Bowser lets him get away with it this time. He waves a bowl in Junior's direction, it's snatched out of his hand in a second by energetic kid claws. Junior sits at the table (when did he get big enough to not need a booster?) and carefully rations out a small handful of chocolate nuggets into his bowl.

"So who is he? C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

"It doesn't matter, Junior."

Junior scowls and shoves a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "He looks like the king, but he's too messy."

"Too messy?" Bowser snorts.

He catches sight of a flash of green at the doorway. Luigi hovers, uncertain, and makes some confusing gestures at Junior. Bowser might have gotten better at reading Luigi's body language and deciphering what he's actually saying behind his fancy words, but this intentional signalling is lost on him. Bowser shrugs.

"Yeah. His hair was all stuck up and he was drooling on your pillow! Eww!" Junior says through full cheeks.

Bowser grins at Luigi, who buries his face in his hands.

"Well, maybe you should introduce yourself and see what he says." Bowser points across the room.

Junior turns and waves. Luigi slinks in, still wrapped in Bowser's blanket. He stands awkwardly by the table until Bowser kicks a chair out for him.

"Hi!" Junior says brightly, cheeks still bulging, "I'm Bowser Junior!"

"Good morning," Luigi says with an awkward wave, "I'm Luigi."

"Like dad's boss, the king?" Junior screws up his snout. "Doesn't that get confusing?"

"I… no?" Luigi says, bewildered. "Why would that be confusing?"

Junior spoons more porridge into his mouth, getting a red smear on his chin in the process. His next protest comes with a spray of oats over the table. Kamek can clean that up later.

"But if you've got the same name as someone it gets confusing!"

"He is the king," Bowser clarifies.

"No way!" Junior says, slamming the end of his spoon on the table in emphasis. "He's too short!"

Bowser laughs as Luigi's bemusement turns into surprised offence. The tip of Junior's topknot barely brushes Luigi's nose. But then, the royal family aren't much for strolling through the castle town without a toad retinue and standing next to toads makes anyone look tall.

"Eat your breakfast," Bowser tells Junior. "If you share your mango-choc bits with the king then maybe he won't have you beheaded for insulting him."

Luigi starts, wide-eyed. "I wouldn't —"

"They're mine!" Junior shouts.

"Right off at the neck," Bowser says. He tweaks Junior's neck with his claws. "And he'd hang your dry shell up as a warning to other cheeky koopalings."

"No way!"

"I really wouldn't," Luigi says, worried.

Junior looks at Luigi suspiciously, and then back to Bowser, calculating.

"He says he's not going to do that," Junior says, testing. He looks between Luigi and Bowser again and then finally takes a nugget out of his bag and pushes it across the table to Luigi. "You can have one. And only because you're nice."

"Thank you," Luigi says, as stiffly polite as if he were meeting a diplomat. "I will reciprocate your generosity when I get the chance."

"Reciprocate?" Junior scrunches up his snout. "Dad, what does that mean?"

"It's just a fancy way of saying he's going to repay you," Bowser says.

"Oh," Junior says. "Why didn't he say that?"

"Because sometimes fancy people have to talk fancily."

"That's stupid."

"Believe me, I know," Luigi says wearily.

"Alright, Junior, off you trot," Bowser says, taking his empty breakfast bowl. "Leave his royal sleepiness alone and go wake up Kamek or something."

Junior hops off his chair, but doesn't run off immediately.

"Will you still be here when Kamek's awake?" Junior asks.

Bowser tugs on his topknot. "You know I don't leave without saying goodbye."

"Okay! Be right back!"

Junior sprints out of the room with his usual hyperactive energy. Has he always been that fast or is Bowser going to regret feeding him chocolate so early?

"He's a nice child," Luigi says.

"He's a brat," Bowser says fondly. "Gets that from me."

"I'm sure if he turned out half as well as you have, the kingdom will be grateful," Luigi says.

His slight smile vanishes when Bowser slams a bowl of porridge down in front of him.

"I don't care what the kingdom wants," Bowser growls. "He'll grow up how he grows up — and that's gonna be awesome. Leave your politicking away from my son."

"I didn't mean…" Luigi slumps. "Sorry. That's just my default response to meeting kids. I should have known better."

"Damn right," Bowser says, less happy with Luigi's misery than he wants to be. "How dare you give a default response to my son."

"I haven't had the chance to get to know him," Luigi says, for once getting Bowser's gist without needing it completely spelled out for him.

"He'll want me to take him down to the river before I go," Bowser says. "You should tag along so I can keep an eye on you too. Don't want you wandering obliviously into danger again."

A wistful longing passes over Luigi's face. Bowser usually sees that when he's thinking about his brother. It only lasts a second, then Luigi shakes his head firmly.

"I have to return to the castle," Luigi says, ignoring his breakfast. "I've been away long enough as it is. I can't — won't — leave the kingdom's fate uncertain for any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Eat your food," Bowser orders.

Luigi makes a wordless noise of frustration. "I can't just —"

"You're not doing anything until you've had breakfast," Bowser says firmly. "Whatever royal planning you want to do can wait five minutes."

Luigi pointedly spoons porridge into his mouth. He coughs, grimaces, then forces himself to swallow. Oh yeah, humans are funny about hot sauce. Delicate constitutions the lot of them.

"I think there's some milk," Bowser says. He opens the cold cupboard to find a handful of potatoes and not much else. "Somewhere."

The last cupboard holds a bottle of milk, spelled to stay fresh. Junior's adamantly against drinking the stuff, so it's not a surprise that there's only a little missing; probably for Kamek's tea. Bowser thumps it on the table in front of Luigi along with a battered tin cup. Luigi gratefully drinks.

"You need a plan," Bowser says. "You always do better with ten minutes to think things through, so take ten minutes."

Luigi looks mutinous, but he continues to eat his breakfast (after mixing in some of the milk). Bowser relaxes by inches.

"Okay." Luigi pushes his mostly empty bowl away. "I'm done. Thank you for breakfast. Can we go to the castle now?"

Bowser gives him a look. Luigi slumps in his chair, looking far more like Junior than royalty. Bowser puts the bowls in the sink and sits down across from Luigi. He taps his claws on the table and Luigi averts his gaze for some reason.

"You need to know what you're going to say to your council before you get there. What do you need to do?" Bowser asks.

"I need to find a way to show the Last Realm that they shouldn't attack," Luigi says. "To do that I have to find the professor, but I don't know where he is right now, so that's going to be a lot of work. And I also need to figure out a polite way of asking the Kongs if they expect the Kremling Empire to attack again soon. They can hold their own, but I have to be able to use our alliance as part of my deterrent methods and I can't do that if they're in open war." He sighs and puts his face in his hands. "Those are just the big two things, and I can't do both at once."

Bowser rolls his eyes. "Of course you can't. That's why you delegate."

"But they're too important to mess up!"

"And you'll mess up both of them if you try to do everything," Bowser says.

"I know…' Luigi's fingers tighten in his hair. It's a wonder he isn't bald from all the tugging. "I realised — yesterday, so it wasn't something I've intentionally been ignoring — I realised that I'm used to doing everything with Mario. We compliment each other really well and since he went missing I… I can't do it on my own."

That makes a lot of sense from what Bowser's observed of Luigi's workload so far. Why everything gets divided into two sets of tasks which Luigi flips between frantically when he remembers that the other exists.

"If I was just half the king Mario was…"

"Stop trying to be Mario, you'll never be Mario," Bowser interrupts. "And you know why?"

"Because I wasn't raised to be king?" Luigi says.

"Because Mario had a Luigi and you don't," Bowser says. "So stop trying to be Mario and figure out how to make being Luigi work for you."

Luigi smiles (Bowser mentally awards himself a point). "I don't suppose you would be interested in being my L—"

"Absolutely not," Bowser snorts. "I'm your knight, not your weedy younger brother. So, how are you going to use the fact that I'm your loyal knight and I have connections that you don't?"

"Loyal," Luigi repeats, amused. He shakes his head to get himself back on track. "Are you saying that you have someone with ties to the Jungle Kingdom?"

"I've got spymasters, pirates, entertainers, and plain old guerrillas." Bowser ticks them off on his fingers as he lists them. "You've got a whole passel of knights who'll do whatever you tell them to and advisors coming out your ears. You're not the best person for every job."

"It still feels like giving up, somehow," Luigi says slowly.

"Come on," Bowser huffs. "You hired me because you knew you weren't awesome enough to be a good deterrent. This is the same thing. Do you want to throw yourself a pity party or do you want to help your kingdom?"

Luigi nods. "I'm sure there are people who will be better than me at searching out the professor. If I write a letter explaining things, that should clear up any confusion he might have. Then I can plan a trip to the Jungle Kingdom to —"

"Not a chance," Bowser says. "Last time you left the castle you walked right into a ninji ambush."

"Which you saved me from," Luigi says. He smiles wryly. "Have I thanked you for that already?"

"At least twice." Bowser crosses his arms. "Give yourself some credit — I've never seen anyone get up a tree that fast."

"Sorry I wasn't more use. I —"

"Nope," Bowser interrupts. "Staying out of danger is your job. Dealing with enemies is mine. I want you up a tree or cowering in a closet at the slightest hint of danger."

Luigi nods. "As long as you're sure you can handle it."

"I can handle anything," Bowser says with confidence. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me."

Luigi chokes a laugh and bats his eyelashes. "Aww, you think I'm pretty?"

"You're the prettiest human I've ever seen," Bowser's mouth spills out before he can hold his tongue.

Luigi's smile freezes. Blood fills his face in that way humans get when they're embarrassed or exerting themselves (in lots of ways, but one particular type of exertion does its best to stick in Bowser's stupid horny head).

"You probably get that all the time," Bowser says, brushing it off. "Now, about —"

"When was the last time you saw someone compliment me?" Luigi interrupts.

"Probably because you spend your time doing less blatant fishing," Bowser says.

Luigi lets the subject drop, but he looks far too pleased with himself. Now he gets Bowser's dropped hints, when they can't do anything because Junior's going to drag Kamek into the kitchen any second now and no doubt Kamek's going to raise a fuss over the food supplies that he hadn't budgeted for and Junior will start asking to go out. Relentlessly.

"Let me fetch a couple of my guys," Bowser says. He thinks Wendy and Lemmy are around somewhere and he's almost certain Wendy has a friend or two amongst the Kremlings. "We'll knock out a plan of action and have you back at the castle in time for lunch."

[salamandergoo]

Flames & Asphodel & Elysium & Love

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild April Fools Day exchange! This was written for @blaqcats-fics using the prompt “Hades/Persephone Retelling with Hades!Eddie and Persephone!Steve, but has like badass bringer of death vibes for Steve.” I hope I brought the badass vibes for Steve lol

Link to ao3

Steve reached out a hand towards a rotting tree and brushed his fingers over the mushrooms growing out of the decaying bark.  The tree was long dead, it was a home for insects and fungus.  But he knew it had been a home for far longer, the remnants of a birds’ nest in the branches above his head, a hollow containing left behind acorns in the trunk.  Even from a sapling it had provided leaves for other creatures.  There was a certain nobility to the cycle of life and death.  The tree would fall soon, it would decay into the earth and provide nutrients to the plants that would grow from the soil under his feet.  It was… “beautiful,” he whispered.

“A dying tree?”

Steve jumped, turning to face the voice.  There was a crack in the ground and a figure sitting on the edge of it, watching with intense eyes.  “It’s not dying.  It’s already dead.”

“…right.  I hardly think it’s the most beautiful thing in this clearing.”  He smirked and…

Oh, he was flirting.  And oh, Steve kind of liked it.  “Look closer.”  He held out a hand to the stranger and lifted him to stand.  “Look at the moss.  The mushrooms.  The grubs and beetles.  When this falls, it will protect salamanders and snakes.  It died, yes, but it has yet to fulfill the entirety of its purpose.  What could be more beautiful than that?”

The stranger started a moment longer before his expression turned to a wide grin.  “You are Persephone.  Quite passionate about death, I see.”

Steve’s nose scrunched.  “Yes, but please.  Call me Steve.”  He sighed and looked back at the mossy patch right at eye level for a moment.  “Of course I am passionate about death.  Life relies on it.  It’s everything.”  He turned away fully and sighed.  “You are…?”

“Hades.  But I have a feeling we’ll get a little more cozy, so you can call me Eddie instead.”  He rose to his feet and his curls settled on his shoulders after he shook them out.  Steve wanted to reach out and touch, arrange his hair artfully to frame his face.  He wondered if it was softer than it looked or if it was rigid and unkempt.

“Oh, you assume we’ll see more of each other?”

“A god can only hope.”  Eddie gave a sweeping bow and reached out to take Steve’s hand.  He looked up through his eyelashes and brushed his lips to Steve’s knuckles.  Steve’s heart jumped like he’d been struck by one of Zeus’ lightning bolts.

“I see.”  He didn’t want to seem too charmed, not yet.  “I think you only like me for my fascination with decay,” he teased.  “I am hardly interesting beyond that, especially to a god of such status.”

“And what is it that makes you think I could possibly be uninterested in a beauty like yourself?”

“You are the ruler of the Underworld, an entire realm.  Compared to that, am I not… inconsequential?”

“Far from inconsequential my darling,” he purred.  “Without death, my realm is inconsequential.  Without spring, the fields would not be sown.  You are far too important to mortals to even consider yourself inconsequential.  You might be everything.”

“Everything?”  Steve laughed and covered his mouth to attempt to hide his blush.  “You are too much.  Too kind, I would think.”

“Too kind?  Too kind, he says.”  Eddie chuckled, low and warm and it made Steve’s belly feel like a torch in a temple.  “I have never been accused of being too kind, neither by mortal or god.  I should think you are the kind one.”  He looked around the small clearing, grimacing at the dead deer laying just beyond the tree line.  “Is there beauty in that too?”

“Of course.  Life is cyclical.  While the deer’s life is over, it will feed creatures of the woods and sky.  It is a home for flies and a feast for vultures.  And they too, will meet their end eventually.  But we get to observe life over and over again.”  Steve’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the deer and then up at the tree again.  “Life is a beautiful thing.”

“I suppose it is.”  Eddie was looking right at Steve.  “Say, have you ever been to the Underworld?  I think I would like to show you what comes after for the mortals.”

“You think?”  Steve held out his hand for Eddie to take.  “I suppose a look wouldn’t hurt.”  He wasn’t smiling.  At least, he was trying not to smile.  He allowed Eddie to lead him towards the large break in the earth and peered down warily.  He couldn’t see much, just the distant flickering of flame.  “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Trust me, gorgeous.”  Eddie took Steve’s other hand, back to the break.  “Just look in my eyes and you’ll be okay.”  He took a breath and then yanked Steve forward, pressing their bodies together.  Steve stared into his eyes and could hear the way the earth sealed itself above them, could feel hot air rising up as they fell, faster and faster until they stopped.

His feet touched rocky ground and he could hear something panting behind him.  Something wet touched the back of his neck and he yelped as he let go of Eddie’s hands and turned around.  A great beast stood before him, three pairs of eyes staring and three noses sniffing the air.  “Hello there.”  He held out a hand and touched the wet nose of the middle head.  It sniffed more intensely for a moment before bowing submissively. “Oh, hello.”  Steve couldn’t hold back his giggle as he pet soft our, scratching up towards the large pointed ears.  “Beautiful…”

“That’s Ozzy.”  Eddie grinned and scratched one of the ears.  “And these are Judas,” he pointed to the head on the left.  “And Maiden.”

“Maiden?”

“Yup.”  Eddie opened his arms and grinned as Maiden leaned in and sniffed him.  The heads were each as large as Eddie’s torso, but the beast was gentle with him, even with three mouths of sharp teeth and razor-like claws.

“Ozzy,” Steve murmured, grinning when the wet nose pressed against his cheek.  “And what does this baby… these babies do?”

“Cerberus is a guardian.  Souls try to escape and wannabe heroes try to come and ‘rescue’ them.  Cerberus helps keep order.  Three heads are better than one, isn’t that right baby?” he cooed to the dog.  His massive tail wagged, thudding against the stony ground.

“This is the great Cerberus?  I thought he would be… scarier.”

“To mortals, he is terrifying.  But he is a sweet boy at his core.  He just has to do his job.”  Eddie stepped back and wiped drool off his robes.  “There is still much to see.”

“I hope everything else is half as exciting as Cerberus.”  Steve waved to the beast with a soft laugh.  “He is very sweet.”

“The sweetest.”  Eddie took Steve’s hand again to lead the way.  He was sure footed and almost seemed to glide through his realm, it was like it existed just for him.

Steve supposed it sort of did.  Zeus had control of the skies and Poseidon ruled the seas.  And Eddie had the Underworld with its rocky ceiling seeming as far away as the sky felt from earth.  He’d expected Hellfire and dank air and the screams of the damned, but it was sort of like a well lit cave.

Until they came to a river of fire.  “Huh.”  He crouched down and reached out to touch the flames.  Were he mortal, he’d be burned to the bone in hardly a second, but it was just a tickle to his godly skin.  “Wow… nothing lives in there?”

“It leads the way to the deepest pits of the Underworld.  For the worst of the mortals, they must traverse through the Phlegethon to reach their eternal punishment.  Of course, I don’t dole out the punishments, I simply oversee the order of things.”

“No,” Steve agreed.  “You are no master of death.”  He rose to his feet and considered Eddie a moment.  “Death is not your domain.”  He grinned.  “It is mine.”

“Harmony.”  Eddie offered his hand again and Steve, again, accepted.  He liked holding Eddie’s hand.  Liked being guided like this.  “Without you, my domain does not exist, without my domain, there is no place for souls to continue to.  We balance each other, Stevie.”

“I suppose we do.”  He walked along the edge of the river, the heat of the flames dying down as they continued further away.  Clear water ran near his feet as they entered beautiful fields, full of grass and flowers.  Souls milled about, but Steve was more interested in the flowers.  “Asphodel?”

“Yeah.  This is where most souls come.  Those who were not cruel but not exceedingly exceptional.  There is peace here.”  He began to gather stalks of the flowers and weave them with deft fingers as Steve watched.  “The mortals will lay these at the resting place of their loved ones on earth.  I think there’s a beauty in it, don’t you?”  His tongue poked out as he tied the flowers into a sort of crown.

Steve smiled and reached out, cupping his hands against the flowers.  They grew brighter at his touch, bloomed fully and seemed to stand out among the other white flowers.  “Yeah.  There truly is.”

Eddie reached out to gently lay the crown on Steve’s head.  “Come, I’ll show you where the exceptional go.  The ones who did the most for the gods and their fellow man.  Heroes of legend and the chosen of the mortals.”

Steve’s face felt warm as a late spring’s day as he followed Eddie.  He liked the Asphodel crown more than anything he’d ever worn, he thought.  It had been crafted by Eddie’s hands, made of something from his realm.  He found himself appreciating the realm a little more with each step that he took.  He knew death.  He knew it well, like a friend.  But he’d never seen what came next, had only heard stories.

And he could see the seed of truth in many of those stories, but they failed to mention the good.  The way Eddie’s smile lit up his eyes, the way he showed so much care for all that he was surrounded by.  Steve even felt cared for by the lilt in his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned, the curve of his lips when he smiled.  He seemed so genuine.

“Are you lonely?”  The question slipped out before Steve could think about asking.

“Lonely?  Nah.”  Eddie looked over his shoulder.  “I’m not alone down here.  You haven’t even met the furies yet.  Red is a real spitfire, I think you’ll like her.  And one of Iris’ children is totally infatuated by her, he brings messages all the time, it’s-“

“You are not alone, I see that.”  Steve reached out this time and took Eddie’s hand.  “But that does not mean you aren’t lonely.  I never see you on Olympus.  I rarely hear of gods traversing down here.”

Eddie went quiet as they stepped into a golden field filled with a rainbow of flowers.  Steve still preferred the asphodel.  “I… have never been asked that.”

“No?”

“No.  I guess… I’ve never considered it.”

The air was warm like they were under the sun, but Steve could tell the difference.  A mortal likely wouldn’t, but he knew the way the sun felt on his skin.  Eddie seemed deep in thought and Steve politely looked away, watched as the souls of mortals and living demigods ran through the fields, all seeming so happy.  It was beautiful, but he’d rather follow Eddie than stay there.

“I think I might be,” Eddie confessed, voice almost too quiet to hear.  “I rule  the Underworld, but have few equals here.  Few who would choose to be here.”

“And if… I would choose to be here?”  Steve stepped closer until he was face to face with Eddie, almost close enough to feel his breath.

“Why would you?”

“It’s beautiful here.  I’ve never seen anything like it, I want to see more, to experience more.  Tell me, Eddie, where is your home here?”

Eddie’s pale skin looked warm as he looked away, even with the golden light shining down, the blush was clear to Steve.  He liked the way it looked on Eddie, the way he tugged at his hair to try and hide it.  “I suppose I should show you.”

He turned away from the fields and Steve took his hand as they walked side by side.  The palace was in what Steve assumed was the center of everything.  It wasn’t lifeless and empty, it was warm and cluttered and so… beautiful.  It felt like Eddie.

“I like it.”  He looked around with a smile.  It felt like home in some way deep inside of him.  In a way his mother’s home in Olympus had never felt.

“You- you do?  I mean.  You do.  Of course you do.”  He grinned.  “Stevie, listen-“

A knock at the door took their attention.  It swung open to reveal Lucas, son of Iris and messenger of the gods.  “Oh.  Hey, that was… easier than I thought.”  He gave an awkward wave.

“Max isn’t here, dude.  She’s busy.”

“I’m not here for Max.  I have been sent by Zeus.”

“Zeus?  The fuck does he want?”  Eddie’s face scrunched up.  Steve wanted to bite him.

“Steve is being summoned.  His mother is looking for him.  It’s been a whole thing, we should get going.  Steve?”

Steve hesitated, looking at Eddie.  “If mother is summoning me, I can’t… I have to go.”

“Will you come back?”  Eddie’s voice was soft.

“I want to.  I do, I want to stay here with you, but I can’t ignore a summons.  I don’t know what mother would do, what Zeus would do.  I can’t do that to Lucas, he’s-“

“A good kid, I know.”  Eddie sighed.  “Just wait here.  I’ll be right back.”  He turned and hurried deeper into the palace.

“…so, Max?”

Lucas looked away, tugging at his robes.  “I’ve only met her a few times.  In passing.  I’m not- it’s not a thing.”  He cleared his throat.  “…Eddie?”

“Might be a thing.  Not sure yet.”

“Huh.  That’s cool, man.”  He nodded.  Another few moments passed in awkward silence.  “Is he coming back…?  Should we… leave?”

“No, no, he said he’d be back.”

“Cool.  Cool.”  He rocked on his feet.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when Eddie came hurrying back.  “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t find this, had to look.”  He held up a pomegranate, sliced in half.

“Oh.”  Steve’s eyes went wide.  He knew that eating food in the Underworld bound you there.  Everyone knew that, mortals and gods alike.

“You don’t have to, but… this would make certain that you would return to me.”

Steve held out his hands and accepted the pomegranate, digging his fingers into the fruit to remove several seeds.  “I will return to you.”  He leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to Eddie’s lips and shoved the pomegranate back into his hands.  “I will come back.”

He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit down on several seeds, fingertips sticky with red juice. ��He could feel them in his gut upon swallowing.  “I will see you soon,” Eddie murmured as Steve walked away with Lucas.

On the way back to the peak of Olympus, Steve could taste Eddie and pomegranate on his tongue.

[silkmoon777]

ATWOW | Neteyam Sully, pt. 4

" And from Neteyam… From Neteyam, I get everything, and then nothing at all."

Synopsis: In the face of danger, the Sully's must leave their clan. Neteyam is the one to break the news. Will you go with them? Who will be the one to fight your case?

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Ometikaya OC (Gi'anya, or Gi for short)

Contains: established OC POV, a smidge of angst???, everything is fixed in the end, little extra POV at the end from my darling Kiri

Word count: 6,617

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

• • • • •

Dull aches of pain echo each step I take. In just one night, I have learned to find a comfortable rhythm in my stride. As comfortable as a bullet wound can get. A reality where I didn’t sport a bloodied bandage in need of changing would be worlds better, but that is not my reality, so instead, I sport the bandage with a sort of pride. It’s a reminder that I am still alive under Eywa’s tenacious guidance, and it's her caution to not find myself in stupid future situations.

Through the word of Kiri, Neteyam has asked for me. Kiri is never short of being high on life, something I envy her for, but when she relayed her older brother’s wishes, there was something dark in her eyes. Sullen, apologetic. An emotion unlike her. I mark it down to the fresh hurt of Spider’s capture, something that has hit her and Lo’ak hard. I feel it, too, the lack of his small yet determined presence saddening, the idea of what is being done to him unsettling. But even with such a plausible explanation, I am unsure. Despite my current mood of indifference and the hums that reverberate behind my lips, that look is ever present in my mind's eye, haunting an otherwise usual request.

In the past year, the Sully’s and I have made it our mission to make High Camp feel like home. To the best of our abilities, at least. Home Tree was riddled with nooks and crannies that housed our secret hangouts and held copious childhood memories. Now all of it was reduced to ash carried away in the wind. We’ve combed thoroughly through the flying mountains in search of places that would be wholly ours. The one I find my way to is more out in the open and often inhabited by other younger Na’vi. Eclipse approaches, and as I make my way up the natural steps protruding from the side of the main base, it seems all have retreated under the promise of night. Nestled at the base of a jagged overhang ahead is a small stretch of plush grass that grows from the small circle of soil. From it sprouts the gnarled, twisted foundations of a hearty tree, impossible in age and size atop its natural pot of soil, and yet here it is. 

Patches of wildflowers, mushroom heads, and glowing tangles of weeds peak through the soft grassy fingers that reach from the soil. My footsteps leave faint, glowing imprints in the ground that fade as I advance beneath a day at rest. Bioluminescent life instead lights the way to the tree. Its lush head of leaves cascades in a waterfall of fertile green, intertwining with small hair-like vines of neon pinks and blues.

Standing with his shoulder against the base of the tree is Neteyam, who idly twirls an unsheathed blade of obsidian between nimble fingers. It glides with a practised grace. Upon the sound of my approach, he sheathed it swiftly in the viperwolf hide scabbard at his narrow waist. His ears prick my way, tail swishing as he turns over his shoulder with that grin I love so much, all sharp teeth and dripping confidence. Neteyam is rarely obnoxious in his masculinity, but his lazy, lopsided grins are utterly male, and they always prod at a deep want. A need.

“Gi’anya,” Neteyam says by way of greeting.

I give him a gentle smile of my own and don’t hesitate to approach. “You called?”

He hums and returns his gaze to the sky, which yields to a wildfire of orange blazing on the horizon. “I did.”

Confirming the wary look in Kiri’s eyes is an indescribable atmosphere that follows Neteyam. His usual infectious air of ease and content is nowhere to be seen. Though he tries to not let it show, the way he avoids my gaze and his grin falls into a tight-lipped line. My stomach turns in warning.

“Kiri tells me you’ve been speaking with one of the warrior’s daughters, Eykana,” he continues. The subtle line of questioning is too casual to be his overall goal. It’s not often that he prods at my unsuccessful social life, either. “What’s she like?”

“She’s sweet,” I answer. “Very talkative, so far nice. I like her.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Good. That’s really good.”

“Mmm, but I wonder if she has another goal,” I continue. He looks over, curiously urging me to continue. “And she’s friends with Serexa and shit. They may not be close, but it still makes me think. I think her intentions are pure, but they do not hold me in mind.”

“How so?” He huffs a tired laugh. “You know you can be extremely untrusting, too much for your own good?”

I roll my eyes. “Trust me, just wait till you hear how much she talks about you. She wants you, ‘Teyam, and she’s just finding the easiest way to you.”

He shakes his head. The beads in his braids chatter against each other. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Come on. Really? Last week it was Naimera, before that it was Quia. Even Serexa has been nice to me. Do you not see?” At his silence, I continue. “You’re coming of age. Soon you’ll take your dad's place and you still have no other half. The girls are getting desperate.”

He sighs. “I’m not interested in them.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Haven’t heard that before. Very surprising.”

“Just give  her a chance.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t sound like—”

“Neteyam.” I cut off, standing up straighter and levelling him with an exasperated gaze. “What is this for?”

He purses his lips and…cowers. Beneath my inquisitive eyes, Neteyam’s shoulders seem to inch inwards, his ears twitching towards his skull and brow pinching.  “What is what for?”

I sigh. “Asking about a girl I’ve barely had any interaction with out of the blue is strange. And I really don’t like the vibe you’re giving off.”

“Hey.” His tone is somewhat teasing, but it sounds very hollow. “Don’t insult my vibe.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m just looking out for you. You need more opportunities, more life.”

Despite the strangeness of this encounter, he speaks truthfully. For the Sully’s, I couldn’t be more thankful. They have given me love and somewhat of a family when no one else was willing to. I am not officially their own and am instead an emancipated orphan. But there’s this unspoken rule that speaks otherwise. When I turned up at the Mother Tree speaking an alien language and brandishing the image of the sky people, my luck was thin. Even at my younger age, you’d think most would have been sympathetic to this scarred and scared child. Jake Sully was the only one to step up. 

Jake understood the strange language I spoke and understood my fears, welcoming me into a life I should have had from the start. While Jake and his mate, Neytiri, showed me unconditional love, the rest were indifferent. The adults didn’t acknowledge me, and those my age never tried to connect. Why do you have five fingers? Why do you speak that way? Where is your family? You are not like us. These childish questions never manifested into a wish to know more about me. The Omatikaya did not owe anything to me albeit their leader's acceptance; I had no family name, no natural ties to their world.

Much of my life has been shadowed by a desire for more, and unfortunately for me, the one thing I needed desperately to be happy was not my right: connections. Yet, in all the despair, there was hope: the Sully’s. Growing up alongside them was my vantage point. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Tuk showers me with pure and unconditional love, and from Lo’ak I can always find humour in sadness. Kiri and I share a strong bond only shared between women, something I thank Eywa for every day; to not have her would be torture. And from Neteyam… From Neteyam, I get everything, and then nothing at all.

For as long as I can remember, Neteyam and I have been extremely close, being less than a year apart. Together we learned the building blocks of Omatikayan life. We hunted, we explored, we learnt to heed Eywa’s gentle guidance and connect with the world she has given. Our bond has been unbreakable from the start, and while I could never be more grateful, there’s still a dizzying selfishness that takes hold. For years, the sleazy grins, teasing words and occasional brushes of a hand have erupted a war in my mind. I want more from him, more than a friendly face.

 But, just my luck, I cannot have what I want.

“There’s something else,” I push on. “What about some friendship I have with Eykana has you asking for me to come here?”

“I just, I…” His eyes seem to land on anything but my face. “I need to know you’ll be alright.”

My frown deepens. “Alright? Is this about yesterday with Lo’ak? Look, I know I get roped into his escapades more than I should—”

“No, it’s not about Lo’ak, but I do wish you two would stop feeding into this weird echo chamber of danger…” A sigh. “Kiri told me this would be easy, the liar.”

“’Teyam, you’re worrying me.”

My heart flutters in a sickening rhythm. 

“Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you or anyone this right now, but it’s cruel not to. Knowing if you have more than us would ease my mind.” He takes my hands in his with a squeeze. If not for the horrible feeling in my stomach, I’d be a blushing, stuttering mess. “I’m leaving, Gi. Me, Kiri, Dad…all of us.”

I open and close my mouth a few times, only finding it in me to say a quiet, “What?”

“The sky people will stop at nothing to find Dad and tear him and his life apart, starting with the Ometikaya. For the safety of everyone, of all those innocent…he thinks we should leave for a long, long time.”

My breath comes hard and fast, the sick feeling accompanied by a heavy ache in my chest. I tear my hands from his. 

My whole life has been a mistake, a burden in the eyes of Eywa. It’s not often that I am treated kindly by her, but somehow, I think the Sully’s were her one gift of pity. Only now, it feels like a poor joke and everything is slipping between my fingers like solid gold dissolving into worthless sand.

“You’re kidding,” I breathe.

He shakes his head. “I am not.”

“’Teyam, I—you… I can’t—”

I shake my head vigorously, unable to understand what I hear. Jake Sully wants to remove his family for the sake of everyone else’s lives, but does that not put them in more danger? There’s power in numbers, he used to tell me when I refused the groups I was assigned to during training many years ago. I was stubborn to put trust only in myself, but in his eyes, to trust others was to be strong. Now it seems his own advice has been picked up by a strong wind and whisked away.

“You can’t leave me here,” I beg. “I can’t survive here, I can’t.”

His eyes soften. Behind the sympathy and sorrow, there’s a sign of distress. “You doubt yourself too much. You’re strong-willed, no matter what you or the others think.”

“You don’t understand.” My voice aches, a manifestation of the painful swell of my heart. “Without you and your family, I would not be here. Or anywhere.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes and nose as tears threaten to spill. I blink rapidly and look away in shame. I cannot be like this in front of Neteyam, who I’ve always held up a strong front for. Even worse, my heart is breaking right before me, ripping apart into tiny pieces and collecting at my feet. Neteyam sees nothing but a friend in me, but even amid truth, I can’t help but dream.

“Hey, hey,” he coos. “Do not cry for me.”

I sniff. Everything about this is wrong. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to live,” he urges, his hand falling to my shoulder with a gentle shake. “You’re going to prove yourself to the rest.”

“No—”

“You have to.”

Suddenly, a bubbling anger erupts from the pits of my churning stomach, threatening to spill. Anger towards him, or Jake, or the state of the world, I’m not sure, but it’s overwhelming regardless. I shove his hand away roughly. Unnecessarily. The look in his eyes tells me it’s a silent jab to reject his comfort. Those feline ears twitch, drawing towards his skull. Slowly, I shake my head as he silently regards me, overcome by too many things at once.

“What am I saying that isn’t clicking.” My voice has gone cold and flat, emotionless against a painful subconscious war. “I would have thought you understood me. …You don’t.”

Those words draw something from him I do not expect. His ears flatten further, tail falling to brush the back of his toned thighs. His heavy-lidded, golden eyes narrow a fraction and his brow lowers. There’s an unfamiliar vibrato in his voice, sounding not only sorrowful and desperate but frustrated, as he speaks.

“That is not true.”

Every millisecond the reality of his words closes in, boxing me into a dark corner destined for me to waste away in. Every comfort I have ever known is no longer mine. The tears are coming now, hot and angry and shameful. I shouldn’t have sounded angry, shouldn’t have pushed him away, but my destructive taste for ignoring everything wrong can only hold so long. Now it has burst, I’m even more unsure of what to do. I need to be alone. I need to think. Without another word, I step around Neteyam with ragged breath, shoving away his outstretched hand.

My tears coming harder and faster once my back has turned. Soft pinks and harsh oranges melt away on the sunset, conquered by the promise of a dark night. Luminescent freckles appear on my skin in imitation of the budding stars above. A faint and miserable call of my name chases at my heels as I descend the stone staircase, but I don’t dare look back. Moss and lichen fade blanket the rock beneath my feet. My vision has blurred dangerously, and for a moment, I warn myself to slow down; one misstep could send me tumbling over the edge. And while I listen to the survival instinct, a sad voice challenges the response.

Why slow? Why not let it happen as Eywa seems fit?

I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

Nobody looks my way once I’ve made it back to the heart of the skyward village. By now I have managed to wipe away the tears and conceal any visible sign of sadness. However, with a close enough look, they’re still there: glossy eyes, a pinkish tint to my nose and cheeks. They’re things a friend or a mother would notice. I don’t have a mother. The closest thing I have to one is about to leave, taking my only friends with her.

It’s dark by the time I stumble into my small hut and I fumble to pull the woven entrance close. The prepared meat I had hunted earlier doesn’t even catch my attention albeit the instinctual growl in my stomach. I want to scream; I want to rip the leaves from the walls, pull my jewellery apart one bead and feather at a time, scratch at my skin and claw out my hair. Never in my life has anything ever been fair, and it sure isn’t now.

For the rest of the night, I sob quietly in my nest on an empty stomach. Some nights I eat with the Sully’s, other’s I keep to myself, though it’s more with them than not. Nobody bothers to visit and I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or not. Maybe it is for the best.

•

The next morning I am just as alone as the night. A ghostly hot sting pricks at my nose and under eyes; a reminder of the restless night I spent crying. The pleasant morning air feels like a mockery, comfortably cool and carrying birdsong. I do not attempt to eat anything so soon. So instead, I spend a small portion of the early morning isolated in my tent, weaving together a grass bracelet. Although, I do not remain alone for long.

A pair of bright golden eyes peak between the flaps of my tent, belonging to a silent body that stares at my back. After a second, a faint psst catches my attention. My ears twitch towards the sound. Turning around, I see little Tuk with a beaming, mischievous smile. An ache pangs in my heart at the sight of her, but for her innocent sake, I try not to let it show.

“Good morning, sweet thing,” I hum.

The greeting is invitation enough. She strides into my tent with purpose. “Momma wants to see you.”

My fingers fall short of the knot I’m about to tie. “…Neytiri?”

She chews on her bottom lip nonchalantly as she swings her hips, hands clasped behind her back and eyes wandering. “She said to come now to our tent. And to be quick.”

“O…Okay.” I smile a little more to hide my confusion. “Lead the way.”

Tuk skips ahead as she leads me down a path so familiar I could walk it with my eyes closed. The walk isn’t far. In Home Tree, I was purposely homed close to the Sully’s after their realisation of their children’s love for me. It is no different in our new settlement. When I do not walk fast enough, the little Sully girl falls back to match my pace, tugging at my fingers and pulling at the beaded accessories falling from my loincloth. Every step is more nerve-racking than the last. It’s not often that Neytiri calls for me.

The sudden sight of their tent makes my head swim. Will Kiri be there? Lo’ak? …Neteyam? I’m not sure I’ll be able to face any of them so soon. Especially Neteyam. Thankfully, the boys go out together on pleasant mornings like this for a fly and a hunt. As we cross the threshold of their tent, my suspicions are true. There is no Neteyam and Lo’ak. Only Neytiri, Jake, and Kiri. The latter sits on an overhead beam that holds up the supports of the communal space in their intricately designed hut. Smiles are not unusual for Kiri, but the one she wears now is incredibly big, juxtaposing the last state I saw her in. I give her a small wave.

“That was quick.” Neytiri turns at the sound of Tuk and I’s approaching footsteps. She scurries from my side to join her sister above.

I bow my head slightly in greeting. “Neytiri. You wanted to see me?”

She clicks her tongue absentmindedly. “You are not busy today, are you?”

“No…” I answer slowly with a shake of my head. I cannot for the life of me predict where this conversation is going. Does she have a job for me to do?

“Perfect. Pack anything that is necessary to you.”

I open my mouth to speak, find no words, and then try again. “…Pack?”

She nods with a hum. “Pack, yes.”

“For…?”

Faintly and slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It’s ghostly, as if she doesn’t want to give away the amusement she seems to find in this. “For our departure. You’ve been told we must leave, I hear. I hope I heard correctly.”

I’m not supposed to be telling you or anyone this.

My heart stops dead at her implication and I fight down the urge to weep in her arms, fearing that I heard her wrong. She is not referring to her family’s departure. She is not asking me to join them. She just cannot. But, truthfully, I know she is. For a moment, all I can do is stare up at the tall feline woman with wide, puzzled eyes. What was it that told her the decision was right? Or rather, who…

Neteyam told her; it couldn’t be anyone else. He was the one to tell me against the wishes of his parents. He was the one to witness my world crumble away. Kiri knew he planned it, that much was true. Nonetheless, the topic must have come from him. My moment caught in thought seems to amuse Neytiri further. Her smile truly begins to shine and Jake steps forward to place a hand on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“We’ve seen how much you mean to our kids, and how much they mean to you,” he says with that kind, guiding voice. “Your bonds are strong and we won’t deny you it.”

“You’re okay with me leaving? With your family?” I breathe, still in disbelief.

“We want you to come.” Jake smiles. “My kids fight a hard case.”

“Thank you,” I breathe. “Really, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“You can show us in time,” Neytiri says. “Now I suggest you hurry. We depart this afternoon.”

My heart is still racing as I make my way back to my hut, this time with Kiri at my side. She practically tackles me with a hug so big you would have thought we were saying goodbye. I hug her back and sink into the freer feeling. Although, while I am almost excited to leave High Camp in search of something else, I am not ignorant of the greater reason. The Sully’s are in danger, and wherever they go, it will follow. It doesn’t bother me one bit. I’m willing to show them how much I care for them, even if that means endangering myself.

“I’m so so so glad you’re coming,” Kiri announces for the fifth time. “I love my family, but sometimes I get tired of them. I could never get tired of you.”

I snort. “It’s not hard to find anyone less tiring than your brothers.”

She laughs her light, breathy laugh that I love so much. Then, a mischievous glint enters her eyes. Kiri circles me as we walk, tail swishing, eyes mischievous. “Speaking of my brothers… You should have heard Neteyam last night.”

I only raise a brow so as not to seem too interested. I pride myself on my ability to disguise my fears, my hopes and my desires. Letting people in sometimes scares me. But then there’s Kiri, who finds her way in against my will. I have never explicitly admitted to her my feelings for Neteyam or indulged in her fantasies; unfortunately, my closest friend is just incredibly understanding. Too understanding. She knows me best.

“He came storming in, already late for dinner, and we were all sitting around waiting,” she continues, knowing I secretly love to hear it. “Dad couldn’t even get a word in about his tardiness before he just blurted out that you were coming. He was all angry from the get-go before anyone could even argue. Mom and Dad tried to talk him down and say it was a risk, but he would not hear it. Lo’ak and I helped out—even Tuk. It only took a few minutes of convincing, by my my, everybody was shocked.”

“He shouldn’t have put that much effort in,” I say with pursed lips. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did last night. I cried and pushed him away when he was just trying to be nice.”

“So I heard. But don’t stress over it, Gi, he was just worried for you. Because he loooves—”

“He does not love me,” I cut her off.

She tsks. “You are blind. But seriously, don’t worry. We know why our home sometimes doesn’t feel like your home. Sometimes I see it myself. The looks, the mumbles. They think I’m strange. I’m only a Sully in name, so I’m not immune.” She shrugs away the thought. “You told Neteyam he doesn’t understand, right?”

“…Yeah.” My voice is full of guilt.

“In the moment, I can see that, but trust me, he understands. He does not feel what you feel, but man,” she rolls her eyes with a huff. “He likes to act all tough and unassuming but sometimes I think his feelings are dictated to yours. Poor thing. His heart is too big for him to handle.”

I laugh at the absurdity. Part of me finds a thrill in the possibility which I hurridly remind myself is nothing more than a girlish wish, for a man to show such care out of undying love. It’s just friendly. “Who would have thought, huh?”

“I’m bored of talking about the mighty warrior,” she says, dropping her voice to mimic her brother’s. “You know, sometimes I wish my parents just adopted you like they adopted me.”

“Well you were a baby,” I reason. “Someone had to. They also knew and loved Grace and I’m just…nobody’s daughter.”

Kiri shakes her head. “I will never understand why that matters.”

I sigh. “I just like to live vicariously through you.”

“You don’t need to live vicariously through me, you’re basically a part of the family,” she argues. It’s light-hearted, but suddenly, she’s frowning in thought. “No matter. Soon you’ll be a Sully regardless.”

I shove at her shoulder as she playfully bumps into me. “I thought talking about him was boring you.”

“Hey, I might be meaning me, not my brother, as we said years ago. Getting bored of the lacklustre males and growing old together, remember?” Her voice is a fun-loving mumble. “But fine, I see where you’re mind lies.”

“Kiri.”

“Fine! Be ignorant. Anyway, let me tell you about where we’re going while I help you pack.”

I’m both surprised and understanding to learn our destination. The Metkayina, an oceanic tribe found on the Eastern Sea reefs. To reach them is a few day’s journey by air, a journey I’m both resenting and restless for. Our ikrans are to be taken with two rucksacks per person. The scantness of my jewellery and clothes allows me to pick quite a few while making room for plentiful weapons and supplies and reliable food. 

Kiri helps me pack as she gushes about the sea people we have yet to meet. She paints their world in vibrant colours and magnificent seas full of the unknown. Each word is more elated than the last. Her enthusiasm is overwhelming, and soon enough, contagious. 

While she couldn’t sound any happier, Kiri is no stranger to sadness. My understanding of her character does not let me miss it. When she gets like this, she’s usually compensating for something, something being the home she has to leave behind. Again. I have little fondness for High Camp and let go of my longing for Home Tree a long time ago, but I have copious amounts of fondness for her. My other half, my second self. My sister not in blood or name, but through a spiritual connection that transcends this life and the many to come. In that fondness, I find secondary sadness.

The announcement of our departure and the ceremony that follows is a mind-numbing blur. It’s felt deep in the heart of the clan, invoking a shared, grateful sadness for their selflessness. ‘Goodbye’s and ‘good luck’s come endlessly. To my surprise, some of them are aimed at me. Many of them come from Eykana who hugs me and squeezes me and tells me there will always be a place in her heart for me. She doesn’t speak to or of Neteyam more than once. There is not nearly enough emotion in the goodbye he receives from her. It is sad, yet simple. What I get from her is greater. 

Did I misread her? 

The question is pointless. Of course I did. In my self-loathing and learned acceptance of always coming second in the hearts and minds of others, I categorised her as just another girl using me to get to the Sully boys. A sadness I didn’t expect to feel today is felt by that realisation. A part of it feels like another joke; it’s just my luck to finally find the promise of a real friend outside of the Sully’s, only for my world to be turned upside down in an instant, pushing that promise away. In my sadness, I make sure to hug her extra tight and whisper to her how much she will be missed. Surprisingly, it’s the truth.

At the foundations of the Spirit Tree, all of the Ometikayan clan gathered, hushed into a deathly silence as Jake knelt before one of our greatest warriors. Tarsem. He is known to be wise beyond his young years, courageously brave and headstrong for the people’s best interest. A cape of bustling red feathers strung from twisted, sharp tusks has been lifted from Jake’s shoulders and placed on Tarsem. I had stood a few feet away from the scene, Kiri’s hand held tightly in mine. The two of us watched on intently, blinking away the thin film of tears that clouded our eyes.

With a mighty cry, Tarsem raised his blade high, aiming the curved edge towards Jake’s bared heart. Neither of them broke their stare as the blade drove down, stopped by a twist of Tarsem's wrist to connect his knuckles with Jake’s chest. With a nod, the blade was pulled away, angled just enough to carve a shallow gash across the skin of his pectorals. The blood that trickled down his chest was a symbol of death in steed of his selfless exile, the spirit of the Olo’eyktan now reborn in Tarsem. The Na’vi erupted into bittersweet cries.

Silent among the cheering crowd, I had reached up a hand to squeeze Neteyam’s shoulder. At the height of the coronation, half my heart ached for Jake, the other for Neteyam, whose entire life purpose has been snatched away before his eyes and bestowed upon another. The title of Olo’eyktan is no longer his by right. It was a path once so solid, so black and white, now unsure. Though his stare never wavered from his father, his own hand reached up to rest above mine. The gentle sweep of a thumb across my knuckles told me he understood where my thoughts lay.

We remained as such for a moment as Tarsem raised his hands to the heavens, Kiri’s fingers woven tightly through mine, my other hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. Lo’ak, who consoled a sniffling Tuk, lingered at his brother’s other side. Soon enough, the celebrations call for a close, and we find ourselves accepting what is to come.

Jake is first to approach the sea of blue bodies and golden eyes, which part for him with bowed heads and whispered prayers. Neytiri falls into stride behind her mate with a quivering lower lip and soft sobs. Tuk searches for her mother’s hand. Kiri retreats next. With a squeeze of my hand, Neteyam urges me to follow. The saliva dries from my mouth as I do so.

A surrealness hangs in the air as we follow Jake and Neytiri to our ikrans. They have been prepared for us already, each perched on the cliffside beyond, bags tightly secured to their saddles with rope nets. As we emerge from the onlooking Na’vi, a tall figure falls into my stride. 

“Apparently Metikayan celebrations are unrivalled, and lucky for us, their season of celebration is now.”

Throughout the ceremony, we had not spoken much, our interactions refined to wordless comfort. Netayam speaks to me now with a calm ease as if last night never occurred. He doesn’t look at me, instead leaning his head down a little as we walk as if we’re sharing a scandalous secret. I crane my head to look up at him.

“Do you even know what they celebrate?”

“No, but if they’re celebrating, I’m all ears.”

I huff a soft laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

At first, I decide I want to forget about last night. Kiri’s understanding of my greed for information, especially about her brother, told me everything I needed to know: he cares. Enough has been said. But as we continue to walk in silence, a nagging feeling begs me to speak. I have to hear it from him and satisfy the starvation that can I never ease.

“How’d you do it?”

Neteyam looks at me then, quiet and thoughtful. He understands what I mean. After a moment, he looks ahead again. “It didn’t take a lot of convincing. The others helped. Mostly Kiri—she’s better than any of us with words.”

I smile at the thought of her. “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” he challenges.

“Why?”

“Because…” This time, he regards me with that wide, effortlessly seductive smile. Our ikrans screech at our arrival. “Because you’re one of us. It’s simple. I should have known what to do the moment I knew we were leaving.”

I barely have time to give him a warm look of appreciation before he’s striding forward to help his mother with Tuk, braids swaying with every stride. I stare after him for a moment longer before I make a beeline for my Ikran. As she bows her head to nuzzle, I can’t help but replay his voice over and over in my head. As if sensing my wandering mind, my Ikran, Vaana, whines.

“Did you hear that, beautiful?” I coo to the beast as I hoist myself onto her back.

Vaana gives me a humbling look as if to tell me I’ve heard those words many times before. She’s right; I have. Forcing down the swell it sends through my chest, I decide it is best not to read into the little things. Neteyam and I’s friendship means more to me than my hopes. I would never let it waste away because I made a move on him he couldn’t reciprocate, driven by a deluded mind. Life can be so unfair sometimes. Its temptations are purposefully cruel. As I connect my queue with my Ikran’s, she gives a huff that echoes my sigh, as if telling me she agrees.

•

Twittering bird chatter is the sign that the second day of the Sully’s travels is coming to a close. Overhead, small feathered animals fight for the best nesting spot for the coming night, calling out for friends and family while shooing away others. The Sully’s and their companion have found a spot deep within a thick wall of trees that surprisingly leaves room for a large family. It so happened that they were a large family. With their beastly Ikran’s surrounding their camp, they light a fire and cook the day’s hunt. Talk was not rare for them, and it wasn’t now, but behind the banter and the easygoing conversations, there was an ignored tension. It emitted from Kiri’s father the most. He felt guilty to see his family taking refuge in a forest days away from their true home, she knew. She also knew there was no use consoling him.

Instead, she takes a seat beside her younger sister, Tuk, weaving beads and leaves through small braids per her request. Across from them sit her brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak, deep in a playful argument. Though, she wouldn’t be surprised if one of them began to strangle the other. Stood to the side are her parents, vigilant despite their need for sleep. Between Neteyam and her sits her dearest friend and sister on a spiritual level, Gi’anya. 

Gi drifts between conversations with Kiri and Neteyam, unable to deny the occasional question and remark from the latter. It fills Kiri with an amusing pleasure to watch their interactions. She so badly wants to play matchmaker, and while the two of them refuse to admit what everyone knows, she tries her best. Kiri, stop. You’re delusional. We’re. Just. Friends. Whatever. The two of them made it extremely difficult for her, but deep down, she kind of enjoyed the chase if it meant she could poke and prod them here and there.

Soon the sun is setting and the fire is snuffed to protect their whereabouts. Jake urges them all to sleep, and with little Tuk nodding off within minutes, the rest follow so as not to wake her. For a while, Kiri submits to a deep, dreamless sleep. This part of Pandora’s forest is silent in a soothing way. The faint hum of nocturnal beetles sing Kiri unintelligible lullabies. However, she is soon disturbed.

Something draws Kiri from her sleep with a jolt, as if a hand had reached into her subconscious and ripped the roots of her being from slumber. Slowly and silently, she sits up to survey her surroundings. Everything around her is as it should be; Tuk fast asleep in her mother’s arms, her father turned towards wherever he thought danger would emerge from, Lo’ak sprawled out with a soft snore,  Neteyam and Gi…

Eywa!

Kiri’s breath caught in her throat.

The pair sleep with ample space between one another, much to Kiri’s disappointment. Neteyam lies on his back, one hand on his stomach and the other laid out beside him. To his right is Gi’anya, who has curled up on her side facing away from him. Between the two of them lie their queues, which is uninteresting and unavoidable. Na’vi queues in close quarters were unable to activate on their own; the desire for Tsaheylu had to be mutual, and not to mention, in a waking moment. Forcing a bond on someone or accidentally creating one by standing too close was impossible. With that in mind, what Kiri witnesses, she is sure is a dream.

A faint, purplish glow illuminates the ends of the long, braided queues as the inner tendrils snake outward. Slowly, they advance towards the other, so slow that Kiri wonders if she should do something. She is overcome by a contradicting swarm of thoughts. Part of her is awestruck by the impossibility, and another part of her selfishly wants to let the bond happen. Maybe Eywa has grown sick of their back and forth, Kiri thinks, and has decided to push them together herself. Then there is another, smaller part of her that told her to pull them away, but she disregards it. This was a sign if she had ever seen one. Kiri watches unblinking as the first few of Neteyam’s tendrils brush hers…

Suddenly, Kiri’s brother lets out a soft huff. He turns his head to the left, and after a second, the rest of his body follows. His braided queue has been thrown across his chest, so when he turns to his side, it pulls away with him. The queues were no longer close. Their glows fade as they relax. Neither of them stir.

Kiri stays upright in disbelief. What she just saw… Had their queues connected in time to solidify a bond, or could the smallest contact have left the hint of one? Was she meant to tell the two? What an awkward conversation that would be. Or had she woken in time for Eywa to tell her the matchmaking was not in vain? 

With that, Kiri reassumes her spot on the grassy forest floor, torn on what the right thing to do is. If it was not meant to be, would it have happened regardless? A mistake in their proximity? No…It was meant to be. It had to be. 

• • • • •

A/N: trying to introduce other character perspectives. Also did not proofread this well enough cause I'm lazy. But here it is!! lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts

@jackiehollanderr

[ginger375]

LUtober Day 19: Lucky

See the full collection on AO3.

Four dumped out his pouch onto the table. Wind had been digging through the tall grass to find a rupee he’d lost when he found something just as shiny. The blue kinstone has a funky little curve to its edge, which Four didn’t recognize.

“I don’t think I have any that match it, Sailor,” Four said as he sifted through the kinstone halves in his possession.

Wind held up the stone to the light, examining it from all sides. “So how do we find a match?”

Four gathered up all the kinstones he’d spread out across the table. “We ask.”

The duo set out to ask what Wind thought was just random people if they had the twin to his kinstone. They visited the market, the bakery, the school and the carpentry shop, but no one had a match for the Hero of the Wind.

Walking back to the forge, Four got an idea. “You could just hang onto it… or maybe…” he trailed off.

“Or what?”

Four gave him a side glance, brow raised. “How much experience have you had with shape changing magic?”

“Absolutely none,” Wind replied.

“Well, first time for everything,” Four said as he grabbed Wind’s tunic and pulled him just off the path and through the trees. Upon entering a clearing, Wind saw a single tree stump, which Four pulled him up to stand on.

“Just relax and try not to inhale for a few seconds,” Four said.

“What?!”

A flash of light and suddenly Wind was falling, through the crack in the tree stump and landing on a mushroom growing within. He bounced off that one to another before landing on the ground.

��Ouch,” the sailor said as he willed his stomach to settle.

Four’s face appeared above him. “You okay? How do you feel?”

Wind took a few seconds to look around—they were…inside the stump? “Are we tiny!?!”

Four grinned. “Yep. We’re gonna have to walk for a bit to get to the village.”

“What village?”

The journey to the Minish Village took longer than anticipated, but only because Wind was so gobsmacked by how huge everything was. He wanted to touch the blades of grass, chase the bugs, and hide under flowers. Four indulged him, for the most part.

They finally reached the hollow log that led to the village. Wind was once again in awe of the tiny homes of the Minish that he barely noticed Four speaking to one of them.

Four had shown him a Minish back when this adventure started, but seeing one that was the same size as him was so cool. The creature was like a little mouse wearing a jacket made of leaves.

“Pi cori ri Pico!” It said in what Wind presumed was a greeting. Four replied in kind and the two had a conversation, at least Wind guessed it was. The Minish suddenly waved and took off.

“Where’s he… or she… going?” Wind asked.

“He is going to ask the others if anyone has a unique blue kinstone. Save us some time.

Several Minish appeared on the path and started chattering to Four, who laughed with them. He gestured at Wind and the little creatures waved at him. Wind waved back and grinned.

A commotion further into the village drew their attention; three more Minish came scurrying down the path, chittering excitedly.

“Looks like we have a match!” Four said, his eyes shining as he gestured to one of the creatures to join him.

Wind pulled out the kinstone and held it up to the Minish. They fit their half into Wind’s and were in awe as it fit perfectly, before it vanished in sparkling light.

Wind was almost disappointed, but the joyful reactions of the Minish told him this was a good thing.

Four said his farewells to the Minish before leading Wind back to the hollow log.

“So what exactly did we do with the kinstone? I thought it was something you kept?” Wind asked as they walked back.

“You and Mirrari fused your kinstones, so you’ll both have a little extra luck.”

“Really?! How much luck?!”

Four hummed. “You might find some treasure, a secret passage you never noticed before might open, or it could be something really minor you might not even realize it.”

“You mean something like Wild making seafood paella for dinner?” Wind asked hopefully.

“You never know,” Four laughed.

[leaderpinhead]

Jade - Faerie Circle

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial

“It was all just an innocent joke.” 

Was how Jade justified his actions later when confronted by Azul. A spur-of-the-moment prank, if you would. Floyd certainly got a kick out of the revelations, giggling at the tale Jade spun and knowing—by keen observation or pure instinct—his brother was a bold-faced liar. 

At the time of the incident, Jade admitted it was just to get a little giggle at the expense of the prefect. 

He smiled at the prefect. Yuu didn’t look very amused. In her defense, she hadn’t been in a very good mood all morning. That was fine with Jade. He wasn’t the one who made a bet and subsequently lost. He simply reaped the benefits of having a sla—helper for the day. 

Yuu pointed at the colony of mushrooms they had discovered on their morning hike. “You seriously think I’d blindly believe a word you say?” 

Jade hummed a chuckle. His gaze followed her finger to the perfect circle of red capped mushrooms beside them. The circumference of the circle was just large enough for a person to stand in. Say a faerie. Or gullible, magicless human. “I’m admittedly hurt to know you trust me so little.” 

“You tried to get me to pick poisonous mushrooms for you less than five minutes ago.” 

“They’re only poisonous if you ingest them.” Jade paused. His smile widened when her cynical glare remained unwavering. “And they may cause a rash for sensitive skin. Their use in alchemy is quite expansive.” 

Yuu’s eyelids fluttered, refusing to blink from sheer stubbornness. “I’m not stepping in the circle.” 

“You would reject such a valuable staple of fae culture?” 

“I know at least three fae who live on campus. None of them have ever mentioned these so-called faerie circles. Not even Lilia.” 

“Ah, but they’re so commonplace, why would they ever think to bring them up in conversation?” Jade argued. He exerted careful control over his expression, shrinking his grin and widening his eyes in a show of faux innocence. “It would be the equivalent of merfolk explaining whirlpools or humans detailing a doorway.” 

“Merfolk don’t use whirlpools to teleport from one side of the ocean to the other,” Yuu insisted. Her gaze became sharper, likely her eyes desperately crying for the relief of the blink she refused to give them. “Floyd would have mentioned that by now.” 

“Ah, but it would be the equi—.” 

“You step into the circle then.” 

Jade feigned sudden shocked. “Me? And risk potentially disrupting my transformation potion? The fae use powerful magic to power their mushroom circles. Powerful enough that I could lose my human form and return to my true form. Could you imagine the sheer panic of losing the ability to breathe? To slowly suffocate as my gills tremble with exertion to—.” 

“Fine!” Yuu snapped. Jade’s feigned shock faltered, and he had to hide his returning grin behind the tips of his fingers. “If it gets us back to campus before lunch, I’ll step into the stupid circle. But for the record, I want it clearly stated that I absolutely don’t believe a word you sa—.” 

A flash of muted light engulfed the prefect the second she planted both feet in the center of the circle. Jade owlishly blinked at the empty mushroom circle. He searched the isolated meadow as if he would find Yuu hiding somewhere along the edge of the tree line. When his search only verified the missing prefect, his focus returned to the mushroom circle. The red capped mushrooms stood innocently in front of him. 

A giggle escaped him before he could swallow it. He hoisted his hiking bag onto his back and grabbed the small sack of mushrooms Yuu carried for the duration of their hike. “Oh, dear! It would look as if my small prank has gone awry. Our poor prefect has been swept away to lands unknown. Whatever shall I do?” 

Jade paused. He carefully nudged the cap of the nearest mushroom. The stalk bent slightly under pressure but sprung back into place when he pulled away. Jade shrugged and clipped the sack of mushrooms onto his belt. “I suppose this is simply beyond my realm of expertise. Surely there is someone more suitable for the task back on campus. I would be remiss to move forward in this endeavor alone. After all, I could be stuck a mere eel out of water if I do not tread lightly.” 

Later, after gathering a heroic rescue party consisting of Grim, Lilia, Kalim, Trey, and a visiting purple cat from Royal Sword Academy and bravely confronting a small band of gnomes, Jade happily chimed “I told you so.” to the most unamused prefect he had the gleeful opportunity of rescuing. 

[osamucide]

(joe gets kicked out of school for using) drugs with friends (but says this isn't a problem)

last friday, i took acid and mushrooms

i did not transcend

i felt like a walking piece of shit

in a stupid looking jacket

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.4k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, past relationships/implied relationships, dazai-typical suicide mentions, manwhore dazai, explicit sexual content, drugs, references to drugs, drug use, talking and doing drugs, dazai is on drugs, dazai has tried every drug under the sun, just so many fucking drugs. don't do drugs please!

reid: installment 2/? of me using car seat headrest songs alongside dazai fic. ooc dazai probably but i like breaking him not sorry. this is not intended to romanticize substance abuse. addict dazai is a concept very close to my heart this is wholeheartedly me venting also all my fanfic is just so self indulgent. please for the love of god do not do drugs just send them to me thanks. can be read as a stand-alone or a part two to my previous fic drunk drivers/killer whales. you can find me on ao3 @angelzai. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

“What have you been doing? Since you…”

Left. You falter but Osamu Dazai knows that’s what you mean to say. Since you left. That wouldn't have taken a fucking genius, though.

Well, he thinks, he could be totally honest right now. There's no one to hide from anymore, just himself. The fact that you're sitting with him has some old walls going up - the rather generic ones that go up with everyone - and he's hoping you won't take it personally if he does decide to lie. It would just be easy to. Familiar to.

He turns your voice over in his mind, imagines himself weighing it in his palms, and while the question hangs in the air suddenly he's in bed again with the wench of the week about a month or four back - one he bummed a cigarette off at some club during a routine bender and struck up a conversation with about the conceptualization of incomprehensible units of measurement, like lightyears. Dazai remembers that she took him home and let him snort ecstasy off the small of her back before he made out with her for what felt like six hours. She'd obviously wanted to fuck but he was still thinking, albeit warmly now, about lightyears and space and how awesome it would be to scale the side of a faraway terrestrial planet like an ibex - those cool mountain goats - and look off into a volume of nothing to observe the dilation of time with his tiny, filthy Earth eyes. Yeah, he wasn't getting any of that acute empathy he seemed to gain for other human beings when he was on E, so he asked for more. Her skin had felt like a flannel bed sheet and it almost hurt when she pulled away. He licked this dose off her tongue, per her discretion. It would've been hot if he hadn't imagined what it might feel like to lick a flannel sheet and almost gagged into her mouth. He said, "Sorry, I thought about if your tongue was a flannel sheet." She giggled and he giggled back. He kissed her more. She was so warm. He still couldn't get hard. He just kept thinking. He thought so much about lightyears and flannel sheets until he could barely discern the difference between them. He would've liked to have been wrapped up in either. The last time he had felt this introspective was when he was peaking on nitrous, but it was obvious he was still coming up. He started feeling sweaty and cold. He told himself that wasn't abnormal for ecstasy. He was trying to imagine she was a flannel bed sheet. He was sweating so bad. She was a flannel bed sheet and he was a lightyear and his skin was starting to feel like it was rising off his skeleton. He felt like he'd pissed his pants. He'd pushed her off and bolted for the bathroom. The fan in there was too loud. The manicured hand combing his hair back was burning his scalp. The toilet was kind of grimacing at him all smug-like. He didn't know what a lightyear was. He knew this was bad E. He vomited for an hour straight and meditated briefly on how horribly unsexy he felt before passing out. He woke up with an icepick headache and bummed another cigarette and apologized for pissing his pants on her bed (which he didn't actually do, but this was only clarified after he expressed he thought he had). He insisted that it wasn't her, she was beautiful, she was great, it was just the drugs, it was his own fault, but he still didn't give her his number. He just took the train as close as it went to his apartment, smelling like the very unsexy kind of sweat. Instead of showering, he had popped a Xan and went to bed. It was 3pm. And that was more or less what he had been doing since he left the Port Mafia.

While he recalls this, he makes some vague hand motions and opens his mouth a few times, not unlike a fish, as if he's about to speak but doesn't quite have the words yet. It's not that he doesn't want to tell you. You've been around long enough to have seen him and others high out of their minds plenty of times before. He knows you'd barely blame him for the wretched financial hole he has himself in now that Mori isn't around to sugar-daddy all his substances for him. It isn't remotely about the drugs.

It's about the fact that you found him in a bar in Numazu by total chance and paid his weeks-long tab before even asking him any questions about where he's been. He's not sure why you did that.

It's about the fact that you paid for the hotel room he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in, in front of you. He's considering how deep the crescents beneath your eyes look.

It's about the fact that you kissed him once when you both were sixteen and it convinced him that he'd never kiss anyone else ever again. But then he left, and in the year and a half since he's last seen you he's had more meaningless sex with more meaningless people than there were freckles across your whole body, which had, by the way, meant everything to him at one point.

"Not really..." Dazai shakes his head. "Anything at all."

You light a cigarette even though it's a non-smoking room. You'll be able to foot the bill.

"Come on," you say out of the corner of your mouth, puffing smoke in his face. "Not really anything at all?"

He doesn't ask, just takes the smoke from your lips to put it between his own. "Drugs," he summarizes truthfully. "Mostly coke. There's nothing like it. I swear it's better than H."

You quirk your mouth in semi-disapproval, taking back your cigarette. "You did always like your blow."

"Been exploring academia too, I suppose. I'm learning calculus right now." He's trying to make up for it. He doesn't need to.

Now you really look at him like he's on drugs. "For fun?" He nods, pleased with himself. "I thought you didn't like pain." You finally smile a little bit.

"It's interesting!" he insists with his signature drama. "God, can I just have my own?" He's gesturing to your pack, and you indulge him, lighting it off your own.

You look like you want to say something else, sucking your cigarette down like it's a race. Dazai studies you. Prompts you with nothing but his eyes, just like he always has, and you understand. It's your turn to look for the words.

"I mean... like... what- what," you make the vague hand motions too, "what are you doing, though? How- how are you... not..."

"Dead?" he finishes. "Yeah. I struck a cute little deal with the government."

He doesn't like how you lean back from him, even if it's slight, even if he expects it. He doesn't like how your eyes narrow and you look at him with something he can only place as distrust. You almost want to get up off the bed, but you stay, gazing into him. You're not flustered so easily by him anymore, and he has to notice. He does. And regardless, he knows exactly what you're thinking before you say it. "I didn't take you for a fed, Dazai." He knows about the gun in your jacket, too, and that you're at attention now. Your use of his last name stings.

"I didn't sell you out," he says, mocking offense, pushing himself up on those gangly limbs to cut a line of whatever's in the little plastic bag he pulls from his back pocket. "I didn't sell anyone out. Ango's a double agent. You have to know." You shrug - you'd be ashamed to admit you hadn't a clue - and your apprehension melts, but only a little. "My record's expunged as long as I clean up and sign on at the ADA in about six months."

You look at him incredulously, but he's busy at the desk. He could've left it at calculus.

"And this is your idea of cleaning up?" you ask.

The response you receieve is a long sniff. Dazai straightens out, huffs, pulls another drag off his cigarette.

If you were anyone else it would definitely be unwise of him to give such information to someone very much still on the inside. As high up as you had been alongside Dazai, knowledge of who had their fingers in what organizations was never for you to have. Your rank has only fallen since he left. You've developed a nose for people - you must after so long in the mafia - and Ango, who lays so low, especially after Sakunosuke's death, isn’t exactly at the top of your list until right now. You briefly wonder how much the boss knows. Mori surely would've killed Ango for orchestrating the freeing of his most precious pet. Mori surely has people after Dazai. As a matter of fact, he might have people after you already, not even an hour after you found the former prince of the underworld slumped over on a bar stool, because you never really know who’s watching. At the end of all that, though, your thoughts snag on whether that's something Ango could help anyone with, or if it was only for Dazai. No snitching would be involved. You don't think you're qualified to be a detective, but certainly there's some community service you could do to mop up after yourself, right?

Dazai seats himself in front of you again. The rest of this conversation does not happen verbally - not right away, at least. Whether it’s the coke or the accusatory tone your voice carried, he looks a little emptier than before. He looks an entire world away from you. You don’t say this aloud but he nods numbly like he hears you. You dimly recall a conversation you had with him years ago in which he told you he’d never done anything in his life that made him proud. That he didn’t really view himself as a person, but rather a machine designed toward destruction. Machines didn’t feel proud - didn’t feel anything, and no more or less when they executed their intended function.

You’re struck with the awareness that you still seem to know him so vividly, despite how much he’s obviously changed. The parts of this machine are shinier as if they’ve been cleaned. Although it grows old, it works like new, given its context. You recognize exactly what it’s doing. What he’s doing. And you think, maybe if you just throw your hand into the gears - even if it hurts you, even if it takes a piece of you off and mangles it - maybe you can get it to stop.

He, too, selfishly considers that you could be his way out. But is it really selfish if he can admit he'd drop it all if you asked him to? Flesh thrown against a monstrous man-made creation. Even though you seem to have stayed so very much the same, he doesn’t assume he knows you like he once did. But these could be the right circumstances. Maybe he just needs some flesh. Just needs somebody.

“You just need somebody.” Your head’s on the pillow, you twirl his hair, and that’s what you say to him after you both fuck like two virgins. You don’t mean to imply that somebody could be yourself, but for what it’s worth, that’s how he takes it. He can’t remember the last time sex made him cry, anyway, so it might as well be you.

“Just fucking leave.”

Your eyes snap open as the words leave him. Leave? Leave the room you paid for? That was rich, considering the kindness you’ve extended to him tonight after he abandoned you. Your throat constricts around the fact that not even ten minutes ago you were entangled with him in a way that felt both familiar and new. You would’ve proposed another round and let him clasp his hands around your neck like he used to. He’d always insist you’d beg him to stop one day, but you never did. Ten minutes ago you were ready to wipe away his bloody nose with your hair if he asked. Now he’s asking you to leave.

You sit up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. Your eyes burn with tears and you’re about to get up, get dressed, maybe unload the remainder of the clip in your gun into his kneecaps - but he grabs your elbow.

“Leave the Port, idiot.” You look at him. Concern isn’t an emotion that graces Dazai’s features too often, and here it is. “That came out horribly. Plus, you’re so nice and warm. Get back here.”

So you do. You do what you do best when it comes to Dazai - you crawl back, disregarding how he’s hurt you. Hurt himself. And you just cry.

You cry because you’re so relieved you just misinterpreted him. You cry because he gives you whiplash so goddamn easily. You cry because you don’t have to give leaving a second thought. You cry because a year and a half ago he obviously wouldn’t have insisted you follow him. You cry because he’s so out of character and you almost think you like it. You cry because you like how warm he feels, too. You cry because he’s on drugs. He doesn’t cry because he already did while you made him cum, and now his pupils aren’t so blown, but with you against his chest he doesn’t feel like he needs to get up to do another bump, and that’s plenty for both of you. For all intents and purposes, the walls are all down now. Maybe he really needed to find you. You know you really needed to find him. It’s going to be difficult and dangerous and there’s more to be said, but at least you’ve found him.

You’re sniveling. He’s kissing your hair. “You can teach me calculus.”

Dazai recognizes the laugh that rumbles in his chest as one he hasn’t felt since he’d last seen you. “We’ll get ahold of Ango in the morning.”

[ithaquasbbg]

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡ Another fic.. this isn’t a ship, but it’s my favorite fic I’ve written so far! Inspired by the song “Mushrooms” by Mili. This is modern au

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

I missed you, brother - Ithaqua & Nathaniel

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Pairing: none

Tw: Eating disorders, mentioned child abuse, near death experience (with a happy ending)

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

….

Ithaqua sits in silence as he eats a portion of his meal, watching as mother sits down with a smile, looking over to his twin brother, Nathaniel. Family dinner is difficult since Nathaniel had moved in, more silent, less lively. It wasn’t mothers fault in the slightest, in all honesty, ithaqua blamed Nathaniel for all of this. He has never been kind to Ithaqua or his mother, saying terrible things for years, why did he still get to be under mothers roof, eating her meals, close to her heart when Ithaqua was so sure he hated the both of them.

“How was school, darling?” She asks Nathaniel, giving him a patient smile, only to receive no answer at all other than him standing up and walking to his and Ithaqua’s now shared bedroom. It hurts, seeing the way his mother starts crying, trying to hide it from Ithaqua as to not ruin his mood. “Mother..” he puts a hand on her shoulder, allowing the red haired woman to hug him tight. “This is all my fault, Ithaqua, if I had not left him with that man, your brother would be happy.” The man she was referencing was Ithaqua and Nathaniel’s father, a man with more appreciation for money than his own family. “No no, mother, you couldn’t have known..” Ithaqua whispers, stroking his mothers hair as she cries. “You could have never known that bastard would say those things about you, mother.”

She cries into his shoulder for a while before slowly getting up and going the dishes, handing Nathaniel’s uneaten plate to Ithaqua. “Go make sure your brother at least eats dinner tonight, okay?” She asks, to which Ithaqua quickly obliges. Upon entering his room, he shoots his brother a glare, tapping his shoulder. “Nathaniel, mother wants you to eat.” He gets nothing but a smack in the arm in return, along with the sound of his brother scoffing. “Tell her I don’t want any of her damn cooking. I’m not hungry.”

Usually, Ithaqua would drop the topic, but after seeing his mother crying over his brother, he does quite the opposite. Within a moment, a hand collides with Nathaniel’s cheek and he’s left to stare back up at Ithaqua with wide eyes as the other yells “why can’t you ever just accept the fact that she still loves you?! You don’t even deserve her love after what you said, but you’re still here!” Ithaqua receives no response from his brother and is about to continue yelling until he looks down and sees Nathaniel shaking, covering his mouth as to not make any noises.

“Nathaniel.. I-” Ithaqua quickly gets the idea, but cannot bring himself to apologize, simply taking a seat on his bed and watching his brother. Father wasn’t a kind man, Ithaqua knew this. But he never believed he would have taken it out on his “Angel child”, as is how he described younger Nathaniel. His brother is only further stressed out by the feeling of Ithaqua’s eyes on him, getting up and running to the bathroom. Ithaqua is left to sit and listen to the sounds of his brother purging what he had eaten of tonight’s dinner, still unable to apologize.

….

Nathaniel was popular at school, surrounded by people. Charismatic, the perfect person to hang out with. Ithaqua envied him, until the day he noticed the way he brother would shake whenever people would look away, how he grew almost sickly looking the more eyes were on him. This isn’t to say he felt sorry for his brother, he never could, nor would he ever feel sorry for him.

Girls flock to him, asking for his number, inviting him to get togethers, things they never did for Ithaqua. Why should Ithaqua feel bad for his brother, when he was afraid over the thing so many people want?

His looks were perfect, he was well kept and dressed in expensive clothing. A direct contrast to Ithaqua’s more messy appearance. Though, Nathaniel went through lengths to keep himself looking good enough. He had been taught to purge by his father at a young age, to keep his appearance nice. God forbid his son be anything less than perfect physically, after all. Nathaniel’s obsession with his own looks is concerning to mother, but it’s never concerned Ithaqua. Why should it?

Though that’s not to say he isn’t curious. Ithaqua remembers asking one day, “why do you care so much about how you look?” Nathaniel’s eyes widened as he looked away from his brother, taking a while to force out audible words. “Because, Ithaqua, when you have an ugly personality, you need to look good. Perhaps you should try to put an effort into the way you look as well.” The conversation ended with Ithaqua and Nathaniel being separated by mother, scolding the two of her sons for getting into a fight.

….

Nathaniel thought that if he acted badly mother would give up on him the way father and Ithaqua had, that he could possibly burn the bridge between him and her. He didn’t deserve to be loved, after all, just as father had told him. He didn’t deserve to be cared for or worried over, especially with how stupid he believed himself to be. He always found himself thinking that father was right for hitting him, that he deserved it, that he deserved all the pain he had been subjected to throughout his short life thus far.

But if he deserved it, he has to wonder why he finds himself crying in longing to be held the way he sees mother holding Ithaqua. Why does he find himself cowering in fear at the prospect of people being around him, looking at him, the idea of being hurt? Nathaniel despises it, despises himself for being weak, for not being a man as he should be.

And so, he hides it. All the fear, the pain, the endless amounts of tears that soak his pillow each night after Ithaqua goes to sleep. He hides all of it, bottling everything up and keeping it hidden from the world. He doesn’t deserve pity, or worry. He doesn’t deserve to be cared for the way bother does for him. Hell, sometimes Nathaniel even finds himself thinking he doesn’t even deserve mother, especially after the cruel things he had said to her.

….

Ithaqua finally realizes how wrong he was to hate his brother the day he’s sent to the hospital, his body too weak from the constant purging ithaqua had himself ignored. His bedroom feels empty without his brother there, the dinner table even less lively than it was even with his brother there. School days are uneventful, boring. People come up to him, asking how his brother is, and all Ithaqua can do is say that Nathaniel is fine, that he’ll come back soon.

He sits next to Nathaniel’s hospital bed, seeing his twin brother, the once lively baby he had been nearly attached to with tubes in his body, keeping him alive. Mother couldn’t be there that day, so it’s just Ithaqua at todays visit. He holds Nathaniel’s hand despite knowing his brother cannot notice it in his unconscious state, lowering his head and crying in guilt over everything he had done.

He’s ashamed at the way he had blamed his brother for all his issues, ashamed at the way he believed having Nathaniel gone would improve everything. For the first time, Ithaqua realizes just how wrong he was, sitting in front of his brother in a condition like this. In this moment, all he could ever want is for his brother to return home, for mother to fuss over him the way she constantly did, to hear his snoring at the night that had used to annoy him so much, to hear girls fawning over him all school. Ithaqua missed all of it, he missed his brother.

….

Mother watched her twins grow up, one with her and one in the hands of a terrible father. For years, she felt nothing but guilt, knowing she had left her other sweet son in the care of that monster. She only takes Nathaniel when he’s thrown out of his fathers home. Sure, he had said some bad things about her, but he was still her son after all

If only somebody had prepared her for the pain her son was going through, for the way he wouldn’t sleep or eat normally, for the way he was almost silent while at home. When she sits at her sons hospital bed with Ithaqua by her side, hearing her baby would not make it, she finally realizes just how badly she had messed up, leaving her darling son. Though not all questions are answered, she’s left thinking when Nathaniel had gotten this way, and if she could have ever done something to save him from this fate.

….

The last day Nathaniel ever spent at home before going to the hospital was a rough one. He sat in his bedroom, feeling the burning stare of his brother on his skin as he tried not to cry, for he had already run himself dry of tears the night before.

He felt so weak, so tired, unable to stand up long enough to go grab a drink of water. While In pain, he screams for one thing he never believed he’d ask for again, for mother. He holds onto her as he barely stays conscious, knowing that his body was finally failing him just as he had hoped it would for years.

“Don’t cry, mama..” he whispers, whining at the pain in his body as he feels her hands massaging his back, knowing she’s on the line with emergency services. “You gave me the best life you could while I was here.. thank you” he whispers, closing his eyes as he loses consciousness for what everybody thinks would be the last time.

….

But when he wakes up, feeling his brothers hand holding his own, he realizes that he had so much to live for, so much to cherish. “…Itha” he mumbles, squeezing his brothers hand lightly. He watches Ithaqua spring up, calling for the doctors and quickly dialing mothers phone number. “He’s awake, mama! He’s awake! It’s a miracle!”

It’s all a blur, doctors coming in to check on him, talk to him. But when he sees mother walking in, Nathaniel immediately feels everything clear up. He leans into her hug, crying as she strokes his hair, something he never thought would ever happen. “My baby, you’re alive!” She cries and cries, never letting go of him until Ithaqua gets up and joins in, arms wrapping around his twin and mother as he too cries, making it the three of them.

“Welcome back brother, we missed you.”