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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Spooked

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Thanks for sending it in, I had so much fun with it! :)

Pairing: best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: they are touring a haunted house, so there’s gonna be some scary story/spooky things going on. hopefully there’s enough fun things/fluff to counter it?

a/n: this was longer than I expected it to be...but I was having fun with ot7. hopefully nobody minds lol

It wasn't your fault that Hobi had never seen "A Quiet Place". He had mentioned it as you scrolled through the options on his TV while lounging on his couch like an overgrown cat. Everyone else was in the process of scarfing down their dinner, popping popcorn, and laughing over whatever Jimin and Yoongi were bickering about.

Obviously you had to watch it.

Naturally, the conversation had drifted to a bit more spooky topics. You'd come back from grabbing more popcorn surprised to find Jin talking about his friend that wanted to open up a house they'd inherited for ghost tours.

After nudging Jimin out of the way, you took up your usual spot next to Taehyung. They all watch you with amused eyes, knowing full well that Taehyung is the only one that willingly scratches your back on movie nights.

"Really, like is it the kind of haunted house where people dress up and scare you?" Jungkook asked, his interest piqued.

Jin shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds like they just walk you through the house and tell stories and stuff."

You and Jungkook share a look, already thinking the same thing. A glance at Hobi shows him clutching a blanket to his chest, caught between the events of the film and the conversation taking place.

"We should go," you ventured, immediately earning a startled stare from both Jin and Hobi. The others chuckle in response, Namjoon swatting Jungkook's hand half-heartedly as he tries to steal more popcorn from him.

"...noooo," Jin began. "It's not like it's up and running yet, they're just working on getting it ready for the fall-"

Jungkook picks up where you left off. "Perfect! We can be their test group. That way they'll know what they can do for the general public, get an idea of what works and what doesn't."

You jump in again before Jin can protest more. "C'mon! And besides, this may be your only chance just to go for fun! Otherwise you'd have to find a way to go without running into all of those people, and have to contact management about it..."

Jin sighs, looking at Hobi who stares back at him with an expression of defeat. You grin, Taehyung chuckling beside you.

"Fine."

It was all too easy. Standing here now, you can see just why they want to open this up for ghost tours. Of course you won't admit it, but you already have chills running down your spine.

Or maybe that's just because Jung Hoseok is currently breathing down your neck.

"Alright," Jin's friend, Gina stands at the top of the steps, smiling down at you all. "Everybody ready?"

Jungkook and Taehyung, completely riled up, let out whoops and cheers while everyone else grunts in acknowledgement. Hobi clings to the back of your jacket, whimpering like a lost puppy.

This should be fun.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wait for everyone else, heading straight inside after Gina. Taehyung and Jimin are hot on his heels, joking about something back and forth. You follow after them, glancing back at Hobi with an amused grin.

"Oh," he realizes that he's still clinging to you. "Right." Extracting his hand from your jacket, he lets you move forward. He remains close behind you, Jin at his side.

Namjoon and Yoongi bring up the rear, hardly paying attention to anything that's going on as they chat about a business they saw not far from here.

"We'll begin in the front study here," Gina adopts a spooky tone as she stands in the candlelight. Shadows dance along the walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Suddenly you wish that Hobi was still holding onto you.

Slowly, so as to not draw the attention (and teasing) of the maknae line, you step back until you're between Namjoon and Yoongi.

The two of them smirk down at you, knowing full well that you're already spooked.

"What are you doing?" Jin whispers back to you, eyes wide while he rubs his arms as though he's cold. "Trying to abandon us to the ghosts?"

You shake your head fervently, hoping that they don't notice the way you're sneaking your hand into the pocket of Yoongi's jacket.

"No, the middle is the safest place," you argue. Yoongi gives a breathy chuckle beside you, his hand finding yours in the warmth of his pocket and giving it a squeeze. Thankfully the house is dark enough that the blush on your cheeks shouldn't be visible.

Absentmindedly you link your other arm through Namjoon's, hardly able to breathe properly when he instinctively moves closer.

What were you even saying?

"A-and now you've got three in front and three in back. You're totally safe."

Hobi and Jin look at each other like they know exactly what you’re up to, but don't push it as they suddenly begin walking again. Gina leads the way toward the dining room, weaving a tale of how the estranged wife of the owner of the house swore she would never leave the property.

"Did she?" Jungkook asks from the front, peeking in closed off rooms along the way. You can't help but marvel at his fearlessness.

Gina's eyes glow with excitement, almost as though she were waiting for someone to ask that. "No. Years later, when the owner sold the house, the new occupants said they found a sealed off room in the basement." You gasp, the sound echoing through the hallway. You miss the look Jimin gives you, too attached to the story.

"What..." you clutch Namjoon's arm, the fabric of his jacket bunching in your hand. "Did they ever open up the room?"

Gina grins. "They did. They hired someone to come and open the sealed door. However, the man they hired only got about halfway before quitting. He was terrified."

Yoongi leans down to whisper in your ear. "Are you trying to cut off my circulation?"

It's only then that you notice you've been squeezing his hand with startling strength. "Whoops." Going to remove your hand from his, he frowns, holding it tighter before you can move.

Well, if this isn't a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Why was he so scared?" Namjoon pipes up beside you, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he reads the expression on your face. Oh, you're so screwed. "Did he find something?"

"It's not so much what he found as what he didn't," Gina replies. "But we'll have to save that for last. For now, the dining room. Come on in, everyone."

Hobi looks back at you, a mixture of horror and overall curiosity on his face. “Oh, she’s good.”

Indeed, Gina definitely seems to have a way with words. You’re just having a hard time understanding them as your heart beats loudly enough to drown out any other noises. Yoongi has taken to tracing circles on the back of your hand, which you think are meant to be soothing.

It only serves to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You stare at the portrait on the far end of the dining room, practically boring holes into the painting of the young woman.

Breathe, don’t do anything stupid.

“...alright?”

You blink, finding yourself to be the sudden center of attention. Jungkook grins widely at you.

“What?”

Jungkook repeats his question. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. “That’s not an answer, jagiya. Need us to protect you from the ghosts?”

Your wide eyes immediately give you away, and even Gina is offering you a look of pity before deciding to continue on with the tour. Before you embarrass yourself even more, you slip out of Yoongi and Namjoon’s grasp, sneaking up behind Jin and Hobi.

“Hello boys,” you drawl, making Hobi nearly jump out of his skin. You earn a laugh from the group, Jin chuckling at his scared friend. Hobi just glares at you.

“This sucks,” he whispers to you, pulling you up to stand between him and Jin. Immediately they stick to your sides like magnets and you realize that you have indeed done something stupid as Jin’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he goes to whisper something to you.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Your heart certainly agrees.

“I’m not scared, you know,” Jin whispers. You take a deep breath, reminded yourself that these idiots are your best friends, not menu items.

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

He grins at you, eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. “You’ll see.”

Tearing your eyes away from his and hearing his deep chuckle, you wonder if it’s too late to ask Gina where the nearest exit is.

Don’t do anything stupid.

“Shall we head up to the attic?” Gina asks. “It’s a small space, we can only go three at a time. However, there are some really interesting old photographs up there that we should look at.”

In the blink of an eye everyone is paired off, and you find yourself face to face with Jimin. He grins at you like the Cheshire Cat, making you wonder if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this house.

Jin and Hobi have the glorious opportunity to go up together while Gina leads the way, and several screams accompany their little trip. In the middle of the candlelight in the hallway, you chuckle with the rest of your friends.

“It’s been interesting so far,” Jungkook muses. “I really want to know what they found in that sealed off basement room.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Mmm. Or rather, what they didn’t find.”

“What does that even mean?”

Nobody is given a chance to answer Jungkook’s question as Hobi and Jin come scrambling down the ladder, faces pale even as they laugh. Gina chuckles from above, beckoning the next pair to come up.

Jimin looks at you with an arched brow. “Wanna go next?”

“Sure.” You follow him up the ladder, laughing as Jin recounts how he swore the woman in the photograph blinked.

The attic is filled with moonlight, and under other circumstances it might be pretty. However, amongst the old heirlooms sits an ominous scrapbook, filled with black and white photos of less-than-happy people.

Jimin reaches down, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet as you look around. When he lets go you aren’t sure whether or not to be disappointed.

You’ve hardly made up your mind when he leads you to where Gina stands beside the scrapbook and slips behind you. A moment later his arms encircle your waist, chin propped up on your shoulder.

So there’s that.

Gina points to the first photo, a grim-looking man standing behind a chair where a young woman sits smiling. “This is the estranged wife, before she was estranged, of course. And this is the owner of the house. From what we’ve been able to dig up about his past - no pun intended - he was always deathly serious.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations going straight into your spine. Unsure of what to do with your arms, you gently place them atop his arms around your middle.

You swear he smiles for a moment before turning pensive again. “Why did they separate?” You manage to ask, applauding yourself for getting a complete sentence out while Park Jimin hugs you from behind.

“Rumor has it she cheated on him with his best friend,” Gina whispers, pointing to another photo where the solemn owner stands beside a smiling man. “He was driven mad with jealousy. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Gina gives you a long look, and suddenly you straighten your spine. “I-uh, yeah. Horrible.”

She shows us another photo, explaining something about it while Jimin mumbles out a couple of questions. You hardly process any of it, staring at Gina and wondering if she thinks that you are somehow cheating.

But on who? Jin, maybe? Since that’s her friend?

“Alright, send up the next pair,” Gina croons. Jimin detaches himself from you, suddenly leaving you cold. You turn to follow him, but stop as Gina places a hand on your arm.

“Yes?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone even. Gina motions for Jimin to keep going, pulling you back to the scrapbook. She tilts her head to one side.

“Forgive me for maybe overstepping a boundary but...” she motions toward the ladder, where everyone waits below. “Don’t tell me you’re flirting with all of them.”

Your eyes widen, and a breathy laugh comes out. “Me? What? N-no. They’re my best friends, why would I-”

Gina laughs, the sound too loud for the small attic. “Well, they’re flirting with you.” She playfully elbows me. “Speaking from girl to girl...enjoy it. For the rest of us.”

Nearly choking, you frown but nod all the same. “...ok?” When she makes no move to say anything else, you head down the ladder. The boys look up at me with confused looks, Jimin waiting at the bottom to make sure you get down safely.

“What was that about?” Jin asks, looking a little nervous. “She didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable, did she?”

You blink at him, wondering for a moment if the boys have always been like this around you. Surely not. It’s just the haunted house bringing out this protective side, right?

Right?

“No, she just wanted to show me something else. She’s actually really nice.” You think.

The other groups go up, and nothing else happens to pique your interest. Gina comes down last of all, giving you a wink before walking down the hallway.

“I think we’re ready to go down to the basement, everyone!”

Somehow you end up at the front, surrounded on all sides by the maknae line. You crane your neck, looking back to see the older boys all lost in a heated discussion. Hobi catches your eye after a moment, elbowing Namjoon who looks up at you with fake innocence.

You frown, Gina’s words coming back to you. “They’re flirting with you.”

You must have lost your mind. Was the haunted house really that traumatizing as to make you start coming up with such ridiculous things? How silly of you.

The feeling of a hand resting on the small of your back has you yelping, jumping to face forward again. Taehyung gives you a sheepish grin.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing you forward to stand in front of him. “Are you really that spooked?”

“I...no.” You fail to come up with a complete sentence, but shrug it off. Taehyung smiles brightly at you, gesturing for you to head down the stairs.

“You seem distracted tonight, are you alright?”

The way your heart had begun palpitating calms down as you notice the obvious concern on Taehyung’s face. You give him a small smile, allowing yourself to relish the feeling of his fingers splayed against your back as you move down the stairs.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just distracted by the story.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment longer, not quite believing you but shrugging it off. He brings both hands to your shoulders as you enter the basement, an obvious chill in the air.

You fight off a shiver, Taehyung noticing and beginning to rub at your arms in an attempt to warm you up. Gina immediately notices the action, hiding a smile as she pretends to cough.

“Well,” she says once her ‘coughing fit’ subsides. “We’ve made it to the final leg of the tour. How’s it been so far?”

This time everyone cheers with renewed vigor, although a part of you has a hunch that it’s because Hobi knows he’s nearing the end of this scary experience. The thought makes you grin.

“Earlier, you guys asked me what was found in the sealed off room. It’s easier to show you, rather than explain.” Gina walks backward, motioning for everyone to follow her. It’s darker down here, only a few candles light the way. Despite being surrounded by people you trust, you can’t fight the fear that sneaks inside of you.

Rounding a corner, you see a small hallway with a half-open door. Jin curses behind you, clearly feeling just as freaked out as you.

“Remember how the estranged wife said she’d never leave this place?” Gina nods toward the door and dark entryway. “In that room there’s evidence that she may have had an...extended stay here. It’s very small, and the door only opens to a certain point. Almost as though whoever designed it didn’t want to have an easy escape point.”

Chills run down your spine, and even Taehyung’s ministrations pause for a moment as he takes in this new information.

Jungkook speaks up, ever the curious one. “Wait...her body isn’t still here, right?”

Gina shakes her head. “No, although we think that she may have been buried somewhere on the property. We have yet to find her, though.”

“That...” you shake your head, shuffling from foot to foot. “That sounds so ominous. Like she still walks the property or something.”

The smile Gina sends you is enough to make your blood run cold. “We haven’t ruled anything out.” She gestures toward the door. “Due to fire hazards, we can only have two people at a time in the hallway and in the room. Do I have any volunteers?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up in the air, and he looks at his hyungs pleadingly. You remain still as a statue, refusing to look up for fear of being called on.

You swear you can almost hear Taehyung sigh before he speaks. “Well, obviously you have to go.” He nudges you forward, and you whirl on him in absolute horror.

“What?!” You shout. “How could you betray me like this?! I- no way!”

The boys can’t help but laugh at you, Namjoon clapping Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung gives you an apologetic look, shrugging.

“C’mon, I’ll keep you safe,” Jungkook promises, his big pleading eyes on yours.

You hate how you can never say no to him.

Gina pats your shoulder as you walk past, laughing lightly. “Have fun,” she croons. “Ok everyone, let’s go into the open area just around the corner-”

“You’re leaving us?!” You shout again, stopping in your tracks. “Noooo, no no. Not happening.”

“Jungkook will take care of you,” Yoongi says over his shoulder. “Or do you not trust him?”

Jungkook pauses, looking at you with those big brown eyes. “You don’t trust me?”

Yoongi chuckles darkly before leaving the hallway, and you know he’s aware of what he did. You’ll have to make him pay for it later.

Possibly in the form of food.

“No, I do Kook,” you sigh. He extends his hand out to you, waiting patiently.

You take it a little too quickly.

Gina was right, the door only opens to a certain point, leaving you no choice but to shimmy through. Jungkook inspects the entire area, pointing out what looks to be scratches on the doorframe. You shiver.

“It’s not real,” he reassures you, keeping his hand in yours as he shimmies into the room. You hesitate for a moment, daring to glance at where your hands are connected before following after him.

It’s nearly pitch black in the room, hardly allowing for you to see anything. “Can you even see anything?”

Jungkook laughs, squeezing your hand. “Nope. I think we’ll have to wait for our eyes to adjust. You good?”

You squeeze back. “Yeah, I think-”

The door is shut.

Suddenly delved into complete darkness, your breath hitches in your throat. “Jungkook,” you whimper. “Jungkook, I’m scared-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook hushes you, pulling you closer until you bump into his chest. “You’re fine. They’re just pulling a prank on us.”

Without thinking anything other than, I’m too young to die, you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, burrowing your head against his chest as he chuckles.

“I can’t die, Jungkook,” you mumble into his chest. “I’m too young. I have so much to do. I have a test this week to take, and I’ve studied so hard for it, I have to take it. That’d be so stupid to die before taking that dumb test. And I have to yell at Yoongi or something, I don’t know-”

Jungkook’s giddy laughter pulls you out of your daze, and if you weren’t so scared you would be glaring at him. He laces his fingers behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers into the dark, making every last thought eddy out of your brain. “Have I ever told you that before?”

Finding just enough willpower to move, you shake your head. Jungkook harrumphs above you, the sound almost pulling a giggle from you. Then you remember the situation you’re currently in.

Jungkook sighs. “Well, you are. That, and a lot of other things. Would you like me to tell you what else I think you are?”

Hands bunching in the fabric of his clothes, you find your voice. “...yes.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Scary smart. It’s horrifying.” A chuckle bubbles up from your chest. “And inclusive. That’s so underrated these days, you know? But you’re always making sure everyone is involved and enjoying themselves.”

You can tell that he’s holding his breath from the way his chest has stopped moving, and you’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he hesitantly runs his fingers through your hair.

If that wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, he lets out a shaky breath before continuing on. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you those things before.”

You manage a laugh. “I’m sorry that it took us going on a haunted house tour for you to say it.”

Jungkook smiles down at you, your eyes finally adjusted to the dim room. He stares at you for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

He must see the question in your eyes, but he gives you a knowing look before heading toward the door, making sure your hand is in his.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, testing the door and giggling at your sigh of relief when the door is unlocked.

“Worry about what?” You feign ignorance. Jungkook sees right through your, tugging you along as you head out the door.

He shrugs, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes as pink no doubt paints his cheeks. “You know...overstepping any boundaries.” He looks down at his feet. “Making a move.”

“Why?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you inwardly curse yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at your inquiry.

The sound of everyone chatting makes you almost want to cry with relief. They must be just around the corner, waiting for you to return.

Jungkook leans over, whispering to you. “Because we have a pact.”

You turn to question him further, eyes wide. He anticipates this, taking long strides until you find yourselves back in the open area with everyone else.

“We’re back!” Jungkook announces, shooting you a smirk. You can’t help but stare at him, mouth slightly agape.

A pact?

Gina smiles broadly. “How was the room? Did you find anything interesting?”

You shake your head, trying and failing to stop yourself from overanalyzing every glance the boys give you. “...no. I was too freaked out to even look around after the door closed on us.”

“Yeah, who did that? We didn’t even hear you guys,” Jungkook asks.

Everyone looks at the two of you before looking at Gina, clearly just as confused.

Gina, on the other hand, looks absolutely terrified.

“Ummm...” she begins, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. “Remember how I said that we haven’t ever found the body of the estranged wife?”

You nod your head but stop, the words sinking in. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up, and you find yourself shuffling over to stand next to Jin, clinging to his arm.

“Yeah...” Namjoon says, eyes darting around the room.

Gina sighs. “Alright, everyone, single file line. Head out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

masterlist

this has been turned into a series!

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

oooh so spooky ;)

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lavynrose · 3 years ago

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Artem and his S/O confessing at the same time pt. 2

Title: Dedicated

Pairing/s: Artem Wing X Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Warning/s: grammatical errors

Notes: ok so!!! thank you so much for waiting <3 one thing i'd like to say is that i recommend reading part 1 before this bc it creates a build-up for the story's conclusion. There are some parts here that needed context from part 1. Enjoy!

part 1 here

He couldn't ask for more.

The sunset spilled all around the theme park, the golden intricates of the the railings sparkled than ever before. The orange radiance of the solemn sun gives the park an even more golden glow.

Artem looked around, taking in the seemingly perfect view of what can be only described as serene. The laughter of groups of friends, families walking hand-in-hand, couples giving their significant other loving looks, people enjoying themselves left and right, the quaint smell of hotdogs and popcorn.

You spending your time with him.

The sunset made this picturesque scenery even more breathtaking, and he could come here everyday if only allowed.

Right now, right in this very moment, everything is glowing.

Especially you.

"That was really fun!" the enthusiasm in your voice never fails to make him feel the same. He loves seeing you have fun, without a care in the world. He admits, he also enjoyed getting splashed by water on the raft ride.

He unconsciously offered his arm to link with yours and when you took it as you gazed at him, he's more than satisfied.

You fit so perfectly in his arms, it feels as if you're the missing puzzle piece he never knew his being had. Even having dried after getting soaked from the raft, the warmth that your touch radiated fills his senses with comfort.

This moment of getting to spend time with the person he profoundly longed for was enough for him. Enough for now. You don't need to know his affections for now.

Does he really need to let you know?

His feelings?

It'll probably make your relationship awkward. He's not ready to risk the sweet smiles and playful looks you direct towards him just for his own selfishness.

It doesn't matter. He'll love you even if you won't, anyway.

He then stopped in his tracks, you followed suit. Not caring about the people around you. Lost in the little world the two of you shared. He looked down at your form, "Yes it was. I enjoyed it very much." because you're with me, he wanted to add but instead of saying those words, an amiable look in his cerulean eyes twinkled, and an adoring smile latched upon his features instead.

Almost as if he's telling you an unspoken confession.

His expression however, turned into mild surprise when he noticed how your gaze was filled with enchantment. With a soft glint in your lidded eyes, your brows are knitted together. You were silent.

It baffled him.

Why.

'Why are you looking at me like that?' Artem wanted to blurt out. His mouth opened to say something.

It was unclear to him as to why you looked like you were staring at his very soul.

'Why are you looking at me like,' he can't help but ask himself as he continued to scrutinize your tranced gaze, 'like you want to say the same words I desperately wanted to tell you?'

Are his feelings reciprocated?

You blinked and suddenly looked away, "Uhh, Artem, I-"

"Everyone! One more hour to go for the fireworks! Please look forward to it!" The both of you landed your eyes on the speaker, then on each other.

Artem cleared his throat, pulling the collar of his turtleneck, "You were saying?" he inquired, voice and features laced with curiosity.

You cleared your throat and pulled on your collar, mirroring him, "I..." you started as your eyes darted as if you were looking for excuses, then your orbs glinted with realization and faced Artem, "I just wanted to say that we should take pictures! This is a memorable night after all."

His eyes begin to scan the theme park and his gaze found a small photobooth just beside the merry-go-round.

"Good idea. We haven't had anything to commemorate today's fun." He brushed off your weird behavior earlier as you dragged him towards your destination.

There weren't too many people in the waiting line, there were multiple photobooths, plenty enough to not create a line of more than five costumers per booth.

As soon as it was your turn, you excitedly rummaged through the cute costumes the guests can wear in the photos.

"Look Artem," you snapped your fingers to get his attention, "This would look cute on you!" You squealed as you waved the headband with cat ears in front of his face.

This kind of trend has been circling around lately. No matter how much of a busy man Artem is, he still has seen some posts about this on the internet...

Catboy culture, wasn't it? He wondered.

"You should wear one, too." He suggested. He gingerly took the headband from you and after a few moments of hesitation, he finally gave in to the anticipation in your eyes.

Your eyes were practically sparkling taking in the sight of catboy Artem in the flesh.

"Oh my gosh." You breathed, gaping at him.

Artem blinked. "Is there something on my face?" He then turned to the mirror to check what's wrong, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary though.

"It's nothing!" You frantically waved your hand and gestured towards the camera, "Let's take a photo!" you grinned, wearing cat ears identical to Artem's.

You guys started the photoshoot with your hands making peace signs.

Ah, the classic.

The few shots after just consisted of you putting on different faces while Artem just wore different headbands each shot, with the same pose.

"You guys, please act cuter for the camera! " The photographer suddenly commented.

Isn't Y/N cute enough? Artem internally recoiled.

"Young man, put your arms around your date or something, or do a heart pose together! " Mr. Photographer added.

Artem looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours, both were wide with surprise.

He cleared his throat for what seemed like the nth time today and looked at you for approval, "Do you want to?" he asked as his hands formed half a heart.

Your cheeks lighted aflame as you raised your hand, forming half a heart to connect it with his, "I don't mind."

As your fingers touched, Artem cannot control the pink flushing his cheeks as he smiled at the camera.

The photographer continued to instruct the both of you with how you should pose. He deserves a raise for doing his job really well, Artem thinks.

After of what it seemed like endless snaps of sappy pictures, the two of you decided to print all of them.

"Now we have lots of souvenirs!" you scanned each one of the photos and Artem can't help but think how good you two look together.

He thanked the photographer for putting his all into the shoot, then you both headed for the exit.

"How was it, Artem?" You turned towards him with a profound smile.

You have lots of photos together now. He can already see himself wide awake at night, staring at your couple-like pictures.

It was more than okay.

"It was a fun experience. The cat ears aren't bad." He said as he recalled how astonished you looked when he wore the headband.

"We spent almost 20 minutes there..." You sighed as you looked at your watch.

Artem unconsciously checked his wrist watch as well, "There are 40 minutes left before the fireworks. Do you want to check out more rides before then?"

You surveyed the theme park to look for more booths, "Look at that, Artem." you pointed toward the large and loud crowd at the park's quadrangle.

"Perharps it's someone performing." Artem guessed, hearing the strums of a guitar from the speakers.

"Let's check it out!" Curious, you and Artem shuffled yourselves into the crowd. The faint singing voice grew more and more audible as you got closer to the center of the attraction.

You headed to the front for the best audience experience and the singer came into view, "Isn't that?" Artem's eyes were as wide as saucers when he recognized the person singing.

Funny how you weren't surprised, and he wondered why.

There at the center, sitting at a stool with a guitar in hand, singing with a gold microphone in front of him, was the new employee at the firm, William.

Artem frowned.

That's the guy. The guy who was getting too cozy with you, the guy causing the unpleasant pangs inside his chest.

The guy who was one of the reasons why he got the courage to ask you out on this date in the first place.

The feeling of delight earlier was now replaced by uneasiness.

"I didn't know he was a performer." Artem murmured, and he kept glancing at you.

When he saw that you were clapping your hands and a proud smile has decorated your lips - one that's not aimed him, a sudden bitter feeling overwhelmed his whole being.

You looked very happy, and he hung his head low.

He vividly remembered your smiling faces in the office yesterday, and how William seem to always hang around you.

Artem realized he wasn't special. The warm look that he witnessed from you earlier in the sunset, the look that made him think that you reciprocated his feelings, you probably do that to everyone.

He felt so stupid.

While everyone was watching William hit the notes and strum the strings, Artem was watching your every reactions, only for him to get hurt on the inside.

His heart hurts, the clenching feeling in his chest tightening with every cheer that you voiced.

He's glad it was you who were causing this pain, though.

The crowd boomed with claps and shouts as the last note finished the song, and Artem wasn't in the mood to join them.

6:30pm

"Aren't you going to greet him?" Artem's voice made you look up to him, his brows furrowed and he wasn't making eye contact.

You just brushed his behaviour off and said, "Nope. I wouldn't want to disturb him on this special day!" you felt giddy, knowing that you helped William to set this all up.

As soon as his first day in the office, which was around a month ago, he had overheard you and Kiki talking about the big opening of PAX's amusement park, and kept asking questions about the event. He then learned you were friends with the heir, Marius.

You've never seen a face as shocked as William's when he learned that.

He even made Kiki contact her insiders about the soon to be opened theme park.

Kiki asked why he was so curious, and he said he performs on gigs as a hobby, balancing it with his law career, and that he loves performing ever since he was a kid.

"Performing on the theme park's opening would definitely give me more opportunities!" He sounded so passionate that you can't help but support him.

He became bashful though, as he said, "Besides, I've been looking for an opportunity to surprise my girlfriend next month," you and Kiki beamed at him, "This would make her happy, as I made a new song that I specifically made as a gift for her birthday. I'll sing it on the opening if I'm allowed."

That's why ever since, you became close with William. Whenever you talk though, he almost always talk about her girlfriend.

"30 minutes remaining for the fireworks display!!!" The speakers announced.

You were excited for the fireworks, and an idea popped out of your mind.

"Artem," you called him out "Let's ride on the ferries wheel, that way we're up in the sky as the fireworks erupt," you dragged him to the ferris wheel's ticketing booth, "I heard that it takes 20-30 minutes for a capsule to be on top of the wheel, the time is perfect for us!"

"Can we be alone in the capsule?" Artem suddenly requested, his eyes filled with a look you can't fathom. He looked so vulnerable.

"Yes, that's actually normal. We can request that for the youngest senior attorney with 99% win rate!" You grinned and you expected him to send you one of his gentle smiles, but he just turned his head away, and looked at the distance.

You take a good look at him again once you got the tickets, he's still looking away, a solemn demeanor in his face.

You can't help but wonder what he's thinking. He's been acting a little weird, you thought.

Does he not want to hang out with you anymore?

"Artem, if you don't want to, you can tell me. I won't be mad." You eyed him with concern, "We can just sit on the bench or something." you suggested.

Just like that, his expression changed quickly, regret clouding his face, "Y/N," he sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that with my actions," he stared at you for a few seconds, then you noticed that light was back in his eyes, the fond smile you liksd seeing is back again, "The ferris wheel is perfect." He then grabbed yoir waist and guided you both to the capsule.

You grinned, "I requested a capsule for only the two of us!" you waved the tickets at him, he chuckled and grabbed it from you to give to the person managing the capsules.

The capsule was air-condition inside, with big windows to get a good view of the outside. You expected nothing from a device created by PAX.

Across from you, Artem sits, his mood is a little better now, but you can't help but notice the silent sadness his cerulean eyes hold still.

You don't like seeing him like this.

"Hey, Artem?" you half-whispered, not wanting to surprise him from his reverie.

His eyes met yours, "Yes?" he responded gently.

"You know you can trust me with your problems, right?" You started, you don't let his surprised expression distract you from what you want to say, "I will listen intently to your troubles, and we'll find a way to solve them together! " You declared with the brightest smile you could ever muster, "So please, share your burdens with me. I'll carry them with you." You finished with a toothy grin.

He blinked a few times before finally shaking his head with fondness, "Thank you, Y/N. I want you to know that you are special to me." His face is suddenly filled with so much endearment you quickly looked away, "Uhh, Of course!" your face flushed red and you raised your hide in an attempt to hide it.

Artem chuckled, the sound giving you a sense of comfort and security. You looked up to him again and saw his features get illuminated by the lights flickering in the theme park, his adoring eyes lingering on you.

Like yours was lingering on him.

You smiled at each other, letting the other feel that they're not alone in the battles they're facing.

What are you to each other, anyway? You pondered when you decided to avert your eyes away from him first.

As far as you can recall, friends don't do this kind of thing with each other. The staring, the blushing. Oh, especially the blushing.

You can't help but long for the possibility of having your feelings reciprocated, but oh boy were you afraid.

"Can I sit beside you?" His question brought you to your senses, and you happily obliged, "Of course! This capsule isn't shaky, we'll be okay being on the same side." You made space for him as you patted the empty space. There he sat, his scent enveloping your senses.

It was silent for the whole ride up, but you were comfortable with it. You were with the person you love, being with them is enough.

7:00pm

Your capsule was right on top when suddenly, a boom was heard and splashes of color was seen through the window.

"Artem!" you pointed at the big, colorful patch of explosion that's a little bit below the capsule you were in.

The ferries wheel was so high that you were higher than the fireworks!

The fireworks was on your side of the window, you can see the view to it's fullest glory.

"Whoa!" you exclaimed, your eyes astonished by the scene before you. Your hands flat against the window, when you suddenly felt a body pressed against your back, and a hot breath against your ear, "It's amazing" you heard Artem mutter, as his breaths fanned the hairs on your neck, before resting his chin on your shoulder.

You yelped, you forgot Artem was just beside you!

Your heart pounded against your ribcage when you realized that in order for Artem to see the fireworks, he needs to look at your side of the window.

Heck, your thighs were touching, and you can feel every ounce of heat that his muscular body radiated. He's practically caging you and this small, suffocating space of a capsule isn't helping!

Despite the unbelievable heat that your whole body is feeling right now, you badly wanted him to wrap his arms around you.

Something was pooling in your stomach, something weird. All you can think about right now is Artem kissing you against the window while you sit on his lap.

Warmth filled your already heated cheeks upon realization of what you just imagined, and you mentally slapped yourself. What were you thinking?

The smell of his vanilla cologne isn't helping!

Nobody has ever made you feel this way before. No other person has affected you like this. You think about the things that this man had done for you, he was selfless, hardworking, and most of all, kind.

Especially the smiles he had always shown you. Those smiles filled with comfort and fondness that makes you weak in the knees. Whenever you see that smile, you find yourself looking forward in seeing it again.

To you, Artem Wing was unobtainable.

Yet you wanted to make him yours.

7:01pm

"Artem!" you pointed below with an enthusiastic grin as the fireworks boomed and splashed the sky above the theme park.

His body scooted over to you without realizing, eyes widening with glee and he muttered, "It's amazing" Artem leaned towards you, placing his chin on your shoulder for him to get better view of the fireworks display below.

It's taking every ounce of his control to not face you towards him and claim your lips then and there.

What you said earlier only fueled his raging feelings for you. You were willing to carry his burdens with him? He never had someone say that to him before, and he was happy it's from you.

The evening is flawless. The two of you were alone, having you near him like this, your decleration of support earlier, and a beautiful scenery before him that he won't get to see everyday...

A perfect evening to pour his heart out to you.

He decided that if there was a best time to confess his love for you, that time would be now. He didn't care about your answer right now, he just wanted to let it all out before this passionate feelings can drive him to insanity.

These feelings were driving him crazy, he wanted to let you know how you make him happy, that he thinks about you eveey second of every day, that you ground him and his lonely heart.

He noticed you were silent and unmoving, so he decided to take the chance. He took a deep breath.

"I'm in l-" "Can I ki-"

You turned your body to face him, surprised. Your face only a few centimeters away from his. One wrong move and you'll kiss.

The both of you blinked.

"You... go first." you said, biting your lip.

He stared deep into your eyes, none of you dared to move from this intimate position, your breaths fanning each other's faces.

"Y/N, I," he rested his forehead against yours and breathed with the most vulnerable voice you've ever heard from him, "I'm in love with you..."

You gaped, but he didn't mind.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, "It's okay if you don't feel the same. I..." he opened his eyes to give you a loving gaze "I will keep loving you anyway."

He looked so vulnerable right now, but it didn't scare him. If anything, he feels relief in finally voicing out the feelings he's hidden for so long.

"I was in a bad mood today because I think you were interested in William," you just blinked and he continued, "I mean, you always look happy when you're with him. It crushed my heart." He finished as he waited for your response.

He waited, and waited.

The silence that you were giving him didn't give him any clue to what you were thinking, it's unnerving.

After of what seemed like an eternity you finally let out, "He has a girlfriend, silly." you see Artem's eyes widened and you continued, "It's a long story, but I'm not interested in him. We're just friends."

You felt the heat creep up his face.

"So... what were you going to tell me?" He said hesitantly as he gulped, the embarrasment from earlier evident in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you darted your eyes, it was now your turn to get really embarassed, "Can I..." your face looks conflicted. That if you say whatever you wanted to say, It'd be the death of you.

You took a deep breath, Artem told you his feelings, so it's only fair you tell him yours, you told yourself and mustered the courage to look up to his ocean eyes, a vast ocean so blue, you could drown in them, "Can I kiss you, Artem?"

It took a moment before he could fully process your words. His brain short-circuit.

"What?" He blurted out as he scanned your face for any signs that maybe, you have made a mistake.

but you replied, "I want to kiss you Artem," you put your hands on his shoulder to steady yourself, "I'm in love with you too."

His body tingled with so much joy, you being in love with him was just a distant dream before.

Not willing to wait anymore, he licked his lips as he slowly dipped his head to meet your already parted mouth, welcoming him.

You may or may not have kissed the entire way down the ride.

Artem Wing is a dedicated man.

Now, he's willing to dedicate himself to you for the rest of his life.

do not repost © lavynrose 08/16/21.

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #artem wing #artem wing x reader #artem x reader #tears of themis imagines #tot x reader #zuo ran x reader

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windblooms · 4 years ago

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childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house. spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader. enemies to lovers soft spot syndrome. sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury. also childe briefly in foul legacy armor. canon-divergence. 2669 words (nice).

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear. while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating.

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to? because you ran. you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question. it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city. the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again. initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive. hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder. however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism.

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt. make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set. it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done. it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose. you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer. outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual. it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease. the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark. no lanterns, no lights. you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold. not typical of them at all.

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag. if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic. you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver. packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising. at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future. for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right. now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng. no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away. a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is. you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being. turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options. you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied. you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition. regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves.

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng. it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide. cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other. you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess. you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble. they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms. their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty. you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath. his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave.

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands. you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back. the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute. he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him. if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy. no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves. summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces. except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees. looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about. his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt.

you melt, and realize you should run away. you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health. you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either. you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death. “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness. “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch. is he trying to speak? no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?” you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound. the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it. the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face. you already know what you’re going to say. even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head. “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze. he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side. when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say. “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater. his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding. “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh. he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why. underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous? you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity. the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear. blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time. you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you. you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom. “do not touch me, fatui. i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant. if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach. you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth. he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut. “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this. you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words. your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp. archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command. the man repeats himself, before continuing, “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten. you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you. he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more. you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight. you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him. as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso. a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people. he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #childe headcanons #hurt comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #childe stans are feral #but im friends with so many of them :^)

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justmaybee · 3 years ago

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The Phantom’s New Clothes

(Alternatively: ‘I Like Ya Fit, G!’)

A/N: Yes, the spam is gonna end in a dumb fic. No, I’m not confident in posting it. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be when it comes to Fling Posse. So I’m doing it anyways! Because Gen looks like a whole prince, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll never be able to write them!

Summary: Fling Posse photo shoot time! ~ ☆ and Dice has taken a special interest in Gentaro’s outfit for the day….

Of the many things required by divisions during battle season, one ‘checkpoint’—so to speak—is the creation of promotional materials. A Chuohku-designated event, ‘asked’ of the representative teams from each district.

This is Fling Posse’s second time representing Shibuya, so Gentaro is more or less acquainted with the roadmap ahead of them. And as a group member—and friend—of one Ramuda Amemura, he’s quite used to the mild discomfort of modeling clothes far outside his comfort zone.

Though it had at first been a point of contention in the group—due to some very polarized creative decisions—Gentaro has grown into his role, just a bit. He may never go so far as to call himself a ‘model,’ but he’s done much stranger tasks for the sake of his posse.

Thankfully, this shoot leans decidedly into Gentaro’s style of choice. Unlike Ramuda’s last artistic venture, which had involved a bright yellow top in an aquarium of all settings, this outfit could be described as almost tame in comparison.

The blouse is a loose and flowing white number, tucked into a similar style of black pants. A little tighter to his waist than he’d prefer, but the fabric is soft and stretches down to his ankle—for the most part—so it’ll do. The addition of some colored cords to secure an ash grey cape around his shoulders finishes the look, and Gentaro hums an appreciative note when Ramuda shows him the full look in a mirror.

Ramuda seemed pleased, smoothing out Gentaro’s cape and tucking stubborn hairs back into place before flashing him a grin and bouncing off to help Dice finish dressing.

It’s comfortable, fashionable, and well-suited to his tastes. Gentaro must say, it’s one of his favorite designs from Ramuda so far.

That being said—there’s…one small thing he could recommend be changed.

It doesn’t occur to him until the picture taking is about to begin.

———

“Ya think Ramuda will let me keep it?” Dice asks, impish grin flashing his canine. He pops the collar, striking small poses as the dressing room around them clears out. Gentaro humors him.

He takes his time, stepping forward from behind Dice, peering over his shoulder at their shared reflection. His hand comes to rest on his chin, scrutinizing the tropical pattern with a deliberate trail of the eyes. He continues until Dice’s gaze lowers, until his hands start fidgeting in front of him.

Gentaro finally breaks with a smile, resting his chin on Dice’s shoulder. He can feel the way Dice sags with relief.

“It’s very likely that he will,” Gentaro muses. “This outfit was made specifically for you, and I’m not sure anyone else would wear it willingly.”

Dice nods in a small repetitive motion, absentmindedly checking his reflection in the mirror. The moment he comes to recognize Gentaro’s backhanded confirmation is both visible and audible. His body jolting upright with a pitchy ‘hey!’ tossed back over his shoulder. Gentaro hides a smile behind his hand.

“Oh, Dice. There’s no need to be insecure,” He coos. “From what I’ve heard, sustainable fashion is on the rise! This set may have been a curtain at some point, but your confidence in it is very admirable.”

Dice has that tight-lipped smile on, the one that pushes his cheeks up and makes his squinty faux-glare even more endearing. It says, ‘I know I’m being made fun of,’ but he continues to endure it anyways. Because it makes Gentaro smile.

Still, he’s come a long way since the early days of Fling Posse, and he won’t take things lying down if he can help it. So he sneaks his hand behind him, aiming a light pinch to Gentaro’s side; his comeback of choice since learning of Gentaro’s…sensitivity.

Unlike those recent times, Gentaro quickly back steps, pulling his head off Dice’s shoulder to smother a gasp behind a well-timed fist. Dice blinks, hand still hovering behind him in the empty air where Gentaro once stood.

Then he spins around; the biggest, toothy grin on his face.

Gentaro can feel the butterflies slowly flutter to life in his stomach. His free arm moves subconsciously, to wrap around his front and hide his torso. The longer they hold eye contact, the more his face begins to burn.

And then the photographer can be heard, calling Dice for photos.

They stay in place, gazes locked for a moment longer; then Dice shoots him a wink and jogs off.

Gentaro breathes a shaky sigh, rubbing away the phantom touch.

———

So yes, while it was obvious the outfit had less layers than Gentaro was accustomed to, he hadn’t realized just how much thinner the layers he wore were.

Photo shoots don’t have a lot of downtime, in his experience. There’s always group shots, touch ups, individual shots. While it’s undoubtedly ‘Posse Time’—as Ramuda would put it—he doesn’t get more than a passing word to either of his group mates at any one time.

Which make the times he runs into Dice all the more memorable.

Slipping past one another in the hallway when it’s Gentaro’s turn for solo shots. Gentaro feels a distinct skittering of nails over his flank. It has him stumbling, tripping on his own feet. He can hear Dice laugh as he straightens up and continues walking.

Getting his hair touched up, making sure his pesky bangs stay out of his face. Dice comes to watch for a while, leaving Gentaro with a quick pinch either side of his waist. He jolts so hard, the hair on his left side falls out of place. He mumbles an apology to the poor stylist, eyeing Dice’s retreating smile in the mirror.

In a moment to himself, Gentaro tries to retuck his blouse, smooth out the uneven bunching of ruffles. He doesn’t notice when Dice slips behind him, when he grips onto Gentaro’s hips—too easily accessible through these pants—and squeezes. Gentaro yelps, drops to a crouch to dislodge the ticklish pulses. When he turns with narrowed-eyes, he finds himself alone.

Although Dice has been able to startle a reaction out of him several times today, calling these occurrences ‘uncommon’ would be nothing short of a lie. In his extended stay at Gentaro’s apartment, Dice has been very — thorough in his exploits of Gentaro’s unending sensitivity. One could say that once he got a reaction, he couldn’t will himself to stop.

Also a lie. Well, a half-truth to be more precise.

While it had been Dice’s curiosity and willingness to take a chance that led to the discovery, he didn’t act on his newfound information much at all. While a very physically affectionate lover, he would never go so far as to touch Gentaro in a way that caused discomfort or distress.

No, absolutely not. And so despite many implicit hints and invitations, Gentaro found himself having to get very explicit.

He didn’t dislike Dice’s teasing touch.

No, quite the opposite actually.

It was flustering to a degree Gentaro couldn’t imagine, but…Dice got the message.

He got it loud and clear, and now here they are.

In a game of cat and mouse; Gentaro’s eyes darting toward every movement, hands enveloping his torso at the slightest noise. The fabric on his skin is light, breathable, and silky to the touch; impossible to ignore. His stomach swoops nervously, broiling with anticipation—borderline excitement.

Oh, the monster he’s created.

———

After two hours of lights, cameras, make up, hair, and such; things are finally starting to wrap up.

Gentaro can see the end’s approach easily due to experience. It always comes in the form of Ramuda’s name. Called out by a weary photographer and followed in turn by their leader’s sing-song reply, skipping happily out of the dressing room and into the limelight.

Ramuda’s solo shots are always saved for the end. One must save the best for last, of course.

That being so, it would be a good idea to begin making preparations to leave.

Gentaro can feel the pinpricks in his legs as he slides them off the dressing room couch, uncurling from his seated position. He kicks out, pointing his toes in a stretch, arching his back and spine. The relief pushes a quiet sigh from his lips, leaves him sagging back into the cushions for a moment, suddenly drained.

Time spent in the presence of others can already be tiring, but the looming eyes of Chuohku make things far more intense. Gentaro can find peace in having his posse with him, but the sooner he can get these clothes folded, the sooner he gets his regular attire back—the sooner he’ll be home and out from under the Party’s prying gaze.

It takes Gentaro a few attempts to rise to his feet. His center of balance equals out as Dice makes his way into the room. The timing is very lucky, Gentaro gets barely a greeting out before his arm is in Dice’s hold. Before he’s swung around, in a blur of cobalt blue and floral print.

His back hits the wall with a dull thud. Not hard enough to hurt—Dice would never—but enough to have his breath catch in his throat. The way Dice leans into Gentaro’s personal space—hand still firmly gripped around his wrist, pinning it to the wall beside his head—makes getting air back a bit difficult.

“Hey Gen,” Dice breathes, a soft smile on his lips that completely contradicts the situation, and makes Gentaro melt all the more for it.

“Hello, Dice.” Gentaro’s hesitation is hardly noticeable.

“Whatcha up to?”

It’s so casual — the way Dice speaks, despite their position which has Gentaro’s brain buzzing like radio static. Strangely, it’s somewhat placating, in a way.

“Well — I’d intended on tidying up while Ramuda’s away…” Gentaro musters up a teasing smile, a lighthearted jab. “If you’re attempting to have me fold your clothes for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there—”

Dice laughs. The sound does strange things to Gentaro’s heartbeat. Difficult to miss while it thrums so vividly in his ears.

“No, not that.” Dice smiles. Gentaro can’t help but return it.

“But could I—uh—do one thing? Before you go?”

Gentaro can take a fairly good guess at what Dice is referring to.

He shuffles, wrist rotating the smallest bit in Dice’s hold. His grip is strong, warm, and noticeably firm. Dice hasn’t moved, not an inch from his close lean over Gentaro, but he’s suddenly all that Gentaro can see, smell, feel.

He’s trapped.

It’s invigorating.

Gentaro is somewhat proud of the light, careless hum he gets out. A flippant roll of the eyes before his gaze meets Dice’s.

“Oh fine, if you must.”

Dice laughs again. Gentaro feels that familiar swooping sensation.

“I’ve been dyin’ to do this all day.”

Despite the unaffected air Gentaro puts off, his body is already tensed up in wait. Free hand poised to the side, ready to fend off Dice’s experienced fingers. His waist, hips, stomach; they’re all compromised in this outfit, leaving him more vulnerable than even his home loungewear would allow. It’s anyone’s guess as to where Dice may strike.

Which makes it extra shocking when Dice suddenly drops Gentaro’s wrist. When he slips both hands, with a pre-planned speed, into the gaps of Gentaro’s billowing sleeves and under his outstretched arms.

Gentaro is able to clamp his lips together before Dice’s fingers make contact. It makes muffling his surprised shout marginally easier. The same can’t be said for his limbs.

Before he can even think about it, Dice has found his rhythm, spidering feather-light strokes beneath his arms. His fingertips are gentle, calloused, and so very effective in their unpredictable movements.

Gentaro’s shoulders lock up. He chokes back the bubbling wave of laughter, then clamps his arms down in attempted self-defense.

Immediately after, his spine snaps off the wall. Thrusting his torso flush against Dice, leaning in to cover him. He tosses his head back, a squeaky cry pathetically stifled as the feelings grow exponentially.

It takes all of Gentaro’s remaining brainpower to lessen the pressure of his arms against his sides, to bring his elbows a centimeter out from his waist. Because when he tries blocking Dice’s fingers—

Gentaro bites his lip against a particularly loud squeal; Dice using one finger on each hand to vibrate into the center of each hollow. Oh, please.

—when he tries to guard himself, he just pushes Dice’s fingers deeper.

“Mph! D-Dice!”

It’s debilitating. Dice rarely has access to his bare skin in most situations, but this may very well be a first for both of them. The skittering touch under his arms has Gentaro squirming, shaking. Every time his arms twitch down to stop it, he’s stuck muffling louder laughter at the added pressure he’s made for himself.

It’s all Gentaro can do to hold as still as possible; minimize the jerky, impulsive movements. But it’s so hard, and he’s quickly losing the battle with his volume as well.

What were once small, nondescript sounds are now squeaking—almost whining—noises. As Dice continues his careful track, sweeping soft fingers around and around and around each twitching hollow.

It takes Dice vocalizing aloud to get Gentaro to lift his head from the wall, blink one teary eye open and get a look at him.

Dice is smiling sweetly—no doubt a much nicer look than the hot flush and wobbly smile Gentaro’s trying to control—with his head tilted to the side. It leaves his neck and shoulder open, right at Gentaro’s head level.

He takes the invitation for what it is.

Gentaro quickly buries his face into the side of Dice’s neck. If he had the mind to think and the hindsight to see, he might have considered if this was well-meant aid or a well-sprung trap. It really depends how much credit Gentaro decides to give Dice. His scheming side is somewhat lacking.

Either way, it makes things much more manageable, and far less embarrassing when Dice’s fingertips turn to nails and Gentaro finally breaks, spilling surprised giggles into the other’s skin.

“Dihihice! What—whahat are you—ahahahaha! Wait! Th-that isn’t fahahahahahair!”

Dice had never kept his nails long before, not for so long as Gentaro has known him. He had no use for them, and it was much easier to keep clean with nails as short as can be. But he’s taken to growing them out, just a tad, for…special situations.

Situations where Gentaro is foolish, careless. Usually in the comfort of his own home, in clothes that make it too easy for Dice. To touch, caress. Warm hands over soft skin that finds another’s touch one part foreign to ten parts addictive.

Situations where the small scratch of a nail can amp the feeling of a tingle to a spark.

“Dihice, pl-plehease. I—aha! Oh no, oh pleheheHEHEHEASE!”

It’s so much easier to hide; in the warm, familiar grip of Dice’s embrace. Where he can smother his keening laughter and sudden gasps. No care in the world for his pink cheeks and ruffled hair, so embarrassingly genuine after the painstaking process of making him ‘modelesque.’

Where all he has to focus on is the rippling movement, scratching up and down the dips beneath his arms. A constant, offset graze on hypersensitive skin; gentle as can be but more than enough to drive Gentaro past the point of composure.

All too quickly, Gentaro feels his knees go weak. His back slips down the wall a fraction, hands gripping onto Dice reflexively.

Dice responds in kind, keeping him stable, then going the extra step forward. Literally.

He steps until there’s no space between them. Until Gentaro can be held up with no need for his own legs; just the cool, sturdy wall behind him and Dice’s chest against his own. He’s surrounded by Dice’s warmth, by his scent. It’s been only minutes, but Gentaro is panting for breath.

“Hey,” Dice mutters, softly, once Gentaro can focus on him. He tugs his hand free, chuckling along to the author’s stray giggle, before reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb strokes habitually, eyes staring deep into Gentaro’s — searching. Always searching. Making sure he’s okay.

And he is. Better than okay. That’s not a lie, it can’t be, and the way Gentaro narrows his eyes, sends a challenging smirk Dice’s way — makes that abundantly clear. Dice drops his gaze, laughing to himself. Then he straightens up, thumbs the moisture from the side of Gentaro’s face.

“As I was saying…” Dice trails, locking eyes with Gentaro as he speaks. Watching the way they widen, lips pressing together, when his remaining hand flexes.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#bee stuffs #side note I’ve never played arb #I just love their aquarium fits ✨#tickling #tickle fic #dhfhhfhdjd I don’t wanna tAG THIS #Hypmic #Dice #Gentaro #Gendice #Daigen #ticklish!Gentaro #this may be the first FP tickle fic and that’s the only thing I can be proud about #✌🏼

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themysteriousauthor18 · 3 years ago

Text

Darkness….

Then the sounds of...birds?

The world blurred as the light steadily poured in. The darkness fading away, the vision focused gradually. Coming to realize green and blue blurs were in fact the trees and sky. Ears ringing, that gently faded too as the sounds of nature took its place.

Sounds of the water in the distance, birds singing their songs. Even a few wild creature’s in the far distance.

But the more the mind settled back in, the more that pain became apparent.

His eyes grew wide as it finally settled back in. The searing burning pain coursing through his body. Emitting from his left arm.

He sat up with a heavy groan, bringing his arm up. He pushed up the sleeve of his blue hoodie, his eyes grew wider if possible.

Blue fires was engraving itself into his arm..it faded in seconds putting itself out. It didn’t catch his clothing on fire which was odd. Once the blue flames cleared it left behind markings on his arm.

“What…” He muttered, his fear and also fascination growing. He pushed the sleeve up further, it seemed the newly formed markings made its way up just below where his shoulder started. The markings, he knew them. Seen them before, in Ford's books. The insinma, the triangles. The seal….the large familiar triangle in the center.

Bill.

Why did he have it on his arm. Nothing about this could be good.

Bill….the statue-

His brown eyes looked to its location hastily. But his heart dropped, finding it was not there. Only the flattened patch of grass where it had been. But no statue.

He scrambled to his feet, nearly falling. His eyes searched the spot, hands moving across it. Where was it? Where had it gone!

“Crap..” He cursed. “I knew it was a bad idea. I should have listened to uncle Ford!”

I’ve noticed you’ve had a recent interest in Bill's statue. Just be careful, dipper...and whatever you do, don’t shake his hand. We don’t know what might happen since you are one of the things that could bring him down.

This is what he got for letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Dammit!

What was he going to tell his Uncle?

“Okay Dipper..calm down.” He told himself. “Relax. Uncle Ford and Stan aren’t going to be back from their fishing escapade for another week. I have time..I can fix this.” He went on talking to himself. A nervous habit he kept since he was a kid. “I-I just need to figure out where the statue went. What happened to it and..” He paused, looking at the tattoo on his arm. “ What this mean?”

He removed the blue cap on his head, carding his fingers through his hair.

“I see some things never change, pinetree.”

He whipped around at that voice.

His worst fears became reality as his eyes tried to process what he saw.

The dream demon himself, inhabiting what looked like a more human form floating there. Legs criss-crossed as he hovered in the air. And he was...nakaed. Why was he nakaed?

His lack of clothes was Dipper's last concern, as fear washed over his matured features. Flashes of memory crossed his mind. Facing Bill back then all those years as a child. Living through weird megadon and having the recurring nightmares from time to time. Fearing that Bill would return, that he would kill everyone he loved.

He stumbled back, gawking. All color leaving his face. “No..” He muttered. “No, no no no.” He shook his head wildly. “This can’t be happening…”

Bill simply rolled his eyes. “Oh come on pine tree, never seen a nakaed human body? What kind of life have you been living? A boring one apparently.”

Dipper wasn’t listening to those quips. His hand instivily grabbed the first thing he could touch. It was a rock, he threw it with great force at the dream demon. “Stay back!” The rock flew at him, hitting the dream demon's shoulder and plopping pathetically on the forest floor.

“Rude.” Bill tutted.

His legs gave out as he fell, still staring as a single dark eye watched him curiously. Under blonde bangs. “H-h-how are you here!” He really wished he had his notebook with him right now.. “How is this possible..”

“Dunno.”

“W-what?!”

“I said I don’t know pinetree. Geez, are you that old?” He unraveled his legs, his feet touching the forest floor. Disrupting the grass beneath his feet. “I just kinda..woke up. I dunno, everything was dark and now it’s not.” He paused, “then I saw my old puppet!”

“I am not your puppet!” Dipper growled.

“Sure kid.” He brushed himself off, “anyway as much as I like being all natural I don’t like that look so...” Bill snapped his fingers for some clothes.

But nothing seemed to happen.

Just an empty snap

Bill was just as confused as Dipper, as he snapped again..again..and again..Nothing. Not even a spark. “Well drat.” The dream demon cursed. “Damn that stupid Axolotl..” He muttered.

He’s powerless? Dipper realized. Then he remembered something, filed away in his mind. Something said to him among one of their last journeys before leaving that summer.

One way to absolve his crime.

“A different form..a different time..” Dipper’s gaze took in the dream times form, the pieces finally clicking together. A different form, a different time. A human form, six years.

“Dipper!” That familiar voice filled his ears. He quickly got to his feet as he saw the dream demons not human faces fill with interest.

“Oh shooting stars here too!”

“Mable don’t come near me!” Dipper shouted into the forest towards his twin.

As stubborn as she was, she naturally didn’t listen to his warning. An adult Mable emerged from the forest, hair braided back and sporting a wacky sweater. This one orange and with cats on it.

She looked at her disgruntled twin, traces of fear lacing his eyes. “What’s wrong bro bro?” Her voice was a little different not nearly as high as when she was a child.

“What’s wrong? You need to go now!” He warned.

Mable blinked, looking at her twin, then around. She just looked...confused. “Dipper, I don’t see anything? What’s wrong? Are you losing sleep again.” She asked, concerned.

“What?” He turned to look behind him, there stood Bill. He looked amused if anything. “You can’t see it?”

“See who?” Mable asked, looking directly behind him at where Bill stood.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events!” Bill exclaimed loudly. No reaction from Mable.

Meanwhile Dipper’s gears shifted in his mind. “What..what’s going on.” He muttered to himself.

Mable walked closer to her twin. Placing her hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. “Dipper, I know you’ve been stressed lately. But these trips are meant to be relaxing, you gotta relax bro.”

As she lectured him he was hardly listening. Instead seeing Bill walk over standing beside them. He glared at him, trying his best no to react if only so his twin didn’t think he had gone completely crazy.

His eyes widened as Bill raised a hand to Mable’s head, Dipper opened his mouth but stopped when Bill just took a leaf from her hair, looking at it with interest.

“ -E should head back to the shack now, Soos is making dinner right now. And Melody we’ll never forgive you if you miss it.”

“But-”

“No butts!” She cut in, “now come on.” She grabbed his shoulder.

Dipper quickly lowered his sleeve, unsure how Mable hadn’t seen it. As he was dragged away by his twin he looked over his shoulder at the dream demon, who was still inspecting the leaf.

What was going on?

#got bored wrote this #billdip #bill cipher #gravity falls #dipper #mable #just for fun #human bill cipher #oneshot

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sugar-petals · 5 years ago

Text

Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post.

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting.

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled.

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it.

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not.

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge.

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow.

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning.

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke.

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds.

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already.

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense.

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs.

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone.

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high.

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face.

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game.

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead.

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in.

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once.

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match.

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat.

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he.

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again.

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach.

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate.

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically.

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles.

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve.

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday.

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination.

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless.

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything.

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all.

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows.

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick.

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it.

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will.

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid.

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous.

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know.

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety.

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer.

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains.

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something.

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it.

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“ is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’.

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him.

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that.

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

#figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #yuzuru hanyu smut #yuzuru hanyu x reader #yuzuru hanyu fanfic #figure skating fanfic #fs #figure skating smut #sub!yuzuru #dom!reader #treats for you #original content

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

Genji Heavy Industries (End) Turning Point

After all this way, we finally see the MC reach the turning point in her life.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you very much. I hope this has made you love the world of Dragon Raja

You could no longer see Caesar or Chu Zihang, but at this point, you weren’t looking. Your eyes were locked on Chisei Gen. Caesar’s final orders rang in your head like a command from Heaven. Your hands were caked in dried black blood. You were trembling with pain and fatigue, but that last brief surge of Blood Rage had revived your senses enough to stare at him, much like a cat would, eyes dilated and your body flexed. If he moved a muscle, you would draw your weapon.

Chisei watched the flames with resigned calmness however. He was tied firmly and his life was in Caesar and Chu Zihang’s hands just as much as yours was. “MC.” He said. “Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

He’s looking at you now, with the fire reflected in his eyes. His stare was confident. Even though he was asking a question, there was no question in those eyes. No curiosity. It was as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

But how could he know the answer? The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You’d learned how to shoot and hand-to-hand combat from your training in Black Swan Bay. Your training in Black Swan Bay was mostly centered however on your Yanling, focusing your spiritual energy into the ground, learning the limits of your power, how much you could manipulate the earth without suffering physical effects… This was all ingrained into you in a way that bordered on lab experiments with each result meticulously recorded and logged. It was just constant testing and while you were being tested, you learned your power and how to control it.

But Chisei hadn’t seen you use any of that. What he had seen from his vantage point in the mural hall rafters was you, walking out after Caesar and Chu Zihang armed with nothing but the laser sight of a Soviet era rifle and a pistol which you used to bait a member of the Deadpool into attacking their own kind. He observed how closely you could read the actions of the deadpool and how you picked her targets to attack. He heard your giddy laughter echoing on the mural hall walls.

After that, he would have seen clearly how you fearlessly approached that deadpool after she was exhausted, shot her in the head and then used her severed claw as a knife. How you used the non-lethal bullets from your pistol like a fist. How you were using that claw as your only weapon to render these A-ranked super monsters as weak as worms. It was no wonder that he looked at you when he was using Majesty to subdue the deadly and left a few living ones in his trail of mass destruction for you to kill. He had wanted to observe you close up.

When you don’t answer immediately he turns back to observe the fire. “Among the Hydra we have a name for that fighting technique you’re using. It’s called “God’s Eyes”. The heart of God’s Eyes is to subdue the enemy by your understanding of their movements and by your complete control of the battlefield. According to those that describe it, it takes at least a decade to approach mastery of elements of this technique. But you have mastered all of it and you’re so young. I’ve never seen anyone use God’s Eyes like you. You had to have learned from a master… but there are no masters of this technique. Only a few books that reference it or reference other works that describe it. It’s a technique that’s lost to history.”

“There’s only one man I know who can use God’s Eye on your level. And that’s Hilbert Ron Anjou. But you two just met a few weeks ago. Right?”

His eyes watch your face, but you nod, completely innocent, and his eyes narrowed to slits. You just stare back at him. He finally sighs. Whatever theory he may have had about where you learned your technique collapsed.

“Anjou can clear a room with just his pocket knife. Just like you. I don’t know anyone else who can do that.”

You do, of course, but disclosing that involves your deepest secrets and given the huge deadpool tank you found at the bottom of Genji Heavy Industry, you can be excused for not exactly trusting this man with secrets about your past. “Perhaps after this is over, we can talk more. Over sake?” You ask, taking a page from Caesar’s book.

“I would like that.” He sighed again. “I would also like to know how someone like you ended up with these people from Cassell?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Your lips quirk upward.

This was the first time you actually had a moment to sit and talk with Chisei Gen one on one and it actually wasn’t that hard. It took your mind off your pain enough for you to crack a little joke. Chisei lowers his eyes and, much to your delight, he chuckles and your smile grows.

“For my last moments, if these are my last moments… I suppose I could have worse company then these weirdos. My only regret is that Lu Mingfei isn’t here. But knowing him…” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, imagining him flapping his arms and squawking about how much danger you were in. “...nah, I'll take that back. What I really regret is that if we don't make it out of here, he’ll have lost all his friends. I know how that feels. I don’t want him to feel that.”

You rest your head against the wall of the elevator and gaze out into the flames. “Looking back, my life is very odd. Even if you ask me a thousand questions about myself, I wonder if I would even be able to answer a single one. Simple things like… where were you born… Who are your parents? Where did you go to school…?” Your voice trails off. After a moment's thought, you shrug.

Chisei looks at you, silent.

A burst of gunfire and a sudden sharp explosion made you squeak and flinch! This was it, you think, this was the end. Was it really going to end this way? Caesar’s last order was to make sure that Chisei Gen did not touch the elevator door, but he also told you to stop seeking death! You only had your miserable little peashooter pistols, your miserable little claw and your miserable little knife and your miserable laser pointer.

You were suddenly struck with a sudden and intense desperation like nothing you’d ever felt.

You force yourself up to your feet while Chisei Gen sits there astounded. “What are you doing?” Chisei shouts.

Your voice is choked off as you stagger toward the elevator door, groaning with intense pain, but this fierce determination drives you forward. Chisei can now see the full view of your ruined back, your skin-tight combat suit is torn to ribbons where the Deadpool’s claws sank deep into muscle tissue.

Caesar and Chu Zihang were visible again! Caesar held two Sten submachine guns with both hands and Chu Zihang had one. The two back to back were using the bullet screen to suppress the group of deadpool while moving slowly in the direction of the elevator shaft. The group of deadpool that had been overturned by the shockwave of the explosion regrouped, their hideous golden eyes surrounding Caesar and Chu Zihang, the bullets repeatedly knocking them to the ground as they repeatedly straightened up and charged forward. The only thing that protects them is the bullet screen in front of them, and once the screen disappears the group of deadpool will pounce and bite.

You stand in the door, a silhouette in the light of the flame, shoving a magazine into your pistol. Your black hair is being pulled by the intense flaming winds like you were standing right in the breath of a massive creature. You finally relent. You finally gave in. You finally believe the last words of your friend. You finally believe the words of Caesar and the eyes of Chu Zihang.

You have to live!

The pale red columns collapsed one by one. The hot wind and black smoke rampaged through the hall, the frescoes curled in the fire, and the painted dragons and snakes finally flew away in the black ash.

The two rival men were fighting back to back, and the group of deadpool were getting closer and closer, so close that Caesar once passed the barrel of his gun into the deadpool’s open mouth before shooting it out. Chu Zihang stuck his sword and Onimaru in front of him, so if a deadpool got too close he would draw his blade and force it back, and then pick up his gun and fire. But sooner or later the bullets will run out, just like a man holding a torch to scare the wolves would eventually see that torch go out.

So you wait, watching them, hand on your pistol, observing the battlefield with God’s Eyes! You knew how many pieces of ammunition you had and, from your observation of Caesar’s reloading, you could make an estimate of how much he had left. When you determined that they were close to being out of ammo, you raised your pistols and opened fire!

The staccato rhythm of your pistols is like the rhythmic hits of a boxer’s gloves. The bullets strike the sensitive areas of the beasts, their eyes, their open wounds, their burns. They hiss and flinch as though being stung by a sudden swarm of bees. You drop the empty magazine and reload and shoot again and again and again, cursing them with the deepest and blackest of words.

Each bullet was precious, like a drop of life’s blood. You couldn’t waste a single one. You watched the behavior of these monsters. If they reached for your friends, your bullets stung them like the whip of a ringmaster before vicious tigers. If there was even a possibility that they might think twice about doing it again, your quick and painful punishment gave them pause. If they hesitated, you rewarded them by not shooting them. But if they looked ready to pounce you shot them where it hurt.

Your support is just enough to turn the tide. The resistance of the deadpool falters and this time it doesn’t recover. If they rise up they’re either hit by the two men and if they’re not hit by the two men, they’re hit by the pistol fire.

A strange noise like the pop and snap of firewood shifts your focus and your pistol swivels and points at Chisei. “Stay Down!” You roar.

Chisei’s face is a mask of pain. His body was writhing strangely, his joints were all dislocated, and the bones moved independently of each other. It was like his arms had turned into spaghetti!

“I said stay down!” You lower your pistol to his ankle and pull the trigger.

Click. Your eyes widen.

Chisei smirks. “You’re out of bullets. It’s okay…” He grunts. “I’m not going to run. If they want blood…” He gasped. “I’ll give them blood.” Before you could comprehend what was happening, he suddenly freed himself from his restraints by wiggling out of his shirt. His bare chest looks like an ugly bag of broken bones! He cut himself across the wrist with Dojigiri, staining the white fabric of his shirt red. He stood up and walked to the elevator entrance and threw the shirt into the fire.

With that last act, Chisei Gen completely collapsed. You tried to catch him but the action pulled at your wounds and you both went down to the floor. Both you and he had given your all. You let him fall to the floor and just tried to annoy them with your laser pointer while you grit your teeth, but the Deadpool had a far more tantalizing target in mind already. You realize what’s happening, but you can’t pull the unconscious Chisei back into the elevator. You’re so choked with smoke and exhaustion you can’t even call for help.

"What's going on?" Caesar couldn't believe his eyes, the smoking muzzle points to the ground. The guns in his right and left hands stopped firing, but still no monsters pounced on him.

They were about to run out of bullets when the swarm of deadpool suddenly withdrew from them and scrambled to slither up to a corner of the hall. A minute ago they were still a seasoned suckling pig roasting in the fire, and now they suddenly turned into a disgusting slop, and the whole group just left.

"Hurry! Run!" Chu Zihang yelled.

Caesar suddenly woke up. Tight now they do not have time to think about the rationality of this miracle. The fire burning C4 explosives may explode at any time. It was still too early to celebrate. They simultaneously took off running. They shed off every entangling weight, taking off their heavy windbreakers, which still had scattered firearms and bullets in them. There was a loud bang and a searing wind behind them. It was some piece of C4 explosive behind the shaded wall that had exploded. It was so powerful that it completely took the wall down.

The first thing he saw when he cleared the smoke was you struggling with Chisei in the elevator door. His fury spurred him faster. He was coming at you like a raging bull. You couldn’t even begin to explain! Caesar didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, and blood exploded from Chisei’s calf.

“Caesar!” Your voice is a useless squeak. Caesar had grabbed Chisei and unceremoniously tossed him like luggage back into the car.

Chu Zihang picked you up and hit the door close button on his way in.

The pain woke up Chisei and he was just about to struggle to sit up when Caesar rushed into the elevator and threw a straight punch at his face.

“Stop…” Your voice is just a hiss, and you realized that you’ve completely lost your voice. Perhaps the heat, the dry air, and your screaming in pain had ruined your vocal cords.

The chain of explosions had already begun. Blinding sun-like lights are lighting up the corners of the hall as waves of hot air swept through at speeds that exceeded those of a hurricane, setting other blocks of explosives ablaze. The old freight elevator squeaked and closed with difficulty, and with a few centimeters left in the doorway, a hot air stream a few centimeters wide burrowed into the elevator, a bright red that ignited the remaining files in the car. But the elevator door finally closed.

It slowly sank into the elevator shaft, and a few seconds later there was a heavenly explosion from above, and a bright wave of air rushed into the elevator shaft, throwing the burning corpses of the deadpool into the void. The snake shadows burned in the fire, their fat dissolved, until gradually the bronze skeletons were revealed. These tyrannical creatures finally were cut off from life, and as they died they gathered around a shirt and shredded it..

As the freight elevator rumbled down, Caesar stomped hard on the burning documents, and then lay down exhausted on the file box, and kicked at Chisei’s face.

“Stop it!” You hiss. But Chu Zihang held you tight and you were far worse off than he was. Turned out that weird period style armor had actually protected him quite a bit. You dug your nails into him but he didn’t even flinch.

Chisei said nothing, powerlessly wrapping a cloth band around the wrist wound. He had cut an artery, and soaked at least a fifth of the blood in his body into the shirt. He made his shirt irresistible to the monsters. The result was that he couldn't even stand up. Caesar wasted no time, tying him up even tighter.

You’re breathing a bit easier now. Instinctively, you take deeper breaths. As your adrenaline lowers, fatigue crashes again like a weighted blanket. Breathing now became agony, but with no voice, no one could hear you moaning. There’s just the strange whistling noise, like the soft whine of a little dog.

"What do we do with this guy?" Caesar pointed at Chisei with the Desert Eagle.

You don’t even lift your head.

"It's naturally best if we can take him prisoner. But it's hard to leave Genji Heavy Industries by ourselves in this situation, and it's even harder to take him away." Chu Zihang said. He tilts his head down to look at you. “She doesn’t seem to want any harm to come to him.”

"How about using him as a hostage threat? There is no way the Yakuza would give up the precious Emperor, right?"

"It's hard to make sure we're not followed, Tokyo is the Hydra Yakuza's home turf, and we won’t be able to escape it no matter how much we run.”

"It seems the best way is to shoot this guy. Sooner or later the Academy and the Hydra family will have to go to war, such a precious weapon can not be left in the hands of the other side. Anyway, his body is flowing with dragon blood, I have to kill him as a dragon slayer!" Caesar pulled the bolt and loaded the gun.

No way! Caesar hadn’t killed anyone this whole time! And now that you’ve come this far and you had fought beside Chisei and he’d saved all your lives, he was going to kill him?

You jerk against Chu Zihang and try to sink your teeth into him. His strong arm tightens. He whispers so softly you can barely hear it. “It’s a bluff.”

In a moment of silence, you hear something else sigh.

There were only four people in the elevator, and you heard a fifth breath!

The side wall of the elevator car suddenly caves in! Before Caesar had time to react, the monstrous bony claws penetrated the sidewall and plunged into Chisei’s ribs from behind! Blood rained down like a fountain on the sneak attacker's face as it let out an ear-piercing scream of joy!

Even Caesar was stunned when he saw the Deadpool, even though they had just stepped out of the hordes of Deadpool that were trying to kill him. This Deadpool was so amazing. It was more than twice the size of the others! The longest of them was over five meters, the shortest was only about three meters, and their upper bodies were about the same size as a human, gradually getting thinner and longer below the waist, before finally taking on the shape of a snake. But this monstrosity is more than eight meters long. Its abdomen is bloated, like a pregnant queen ant. It dragged this overly deformed lower body upward but fell down, so it had just arrived at the mural hall. It became the only survivor. It was attracted by the smell of Chisei's blood and recklessly tore through the elevator car..

This deadpool had the face of a middle-aged woman, and her face was not as pale as the other deadpool. Instead, it was rosy and lustrous, like a woman who had become rounded in pregnancy. Caesar took a glance at its abdomen and suddenly understood. Its snow-white, scaleless abdomen had snake tail-like traces shining through. This was really a pregnant Deadpool and a pregnant deadpool could only give birth to those more fearsome than itself, because the fetal dragon blood would be purer. The fetuses also seem to have felt the freshness of the blood of Chisei and are stirring in the mother's body.

What had been suspected all along was confirmed, the Deadpool was capable of producing offspring, and this bloated, deformed mother's womb was breeding devils!

The Deadpool clung to Chisei, licking the blood excitedly. Chisei clung on to the handrail to keep from being dragged into the elevator shaft. Deadpool's bloated body weighing hundreds of kilograms hangs below the elevator by that single grip.

Chu Zihang presses his hand firmly on your mouth. You wanted to scream in rage, pure frustration and despair. But the monster hadn’t noticed you at all yet. You were too weak to fight this thing. You all were. You said ‘no more sacrifices’ but now you really had no more to give but yourselves, and this monster wanted Chisei. You could get away scot free if you left him behind.

Caesar tried to aim several times in the process of raising his gun, but he had no chance of hitting Deadpool, who was hiding behind Chisei. If he fired, he would first have to injure him, and it was unknown whether the force of the bullet could do that and injure the deadpool. He just fired a shot at Chisei but now he needs to shoot him again. But Chisei is extremely pale from blood loss. He originally had a feminine beauty, and now he looks like a dying girl. His soul is leaving his pale body. If he suffered another gunshot wound, Chisei could certainly die.

This world was so black, so dark, that the minute you started to believe that perhaps Caesar could be right and you could live and you could live with all your friends, that scythe of death came to collect its taxes on your happiness. You hated this world, you hated this life!

Deadpool licked the back of Chisei’s neck with her long tongue. Her sharp teeth are seeking the veins in his neck as she begins to give birth to her babies. The green and white snake-like fetuses fell one by one.

At this time there was a "thump" sound above the elevator, and the speed of the elevator's descent suddenly increased. The elevator filled with boxes of documents was close to the upper limit of the load. The weight of the giant deadpool plus the four of you exceeded the limits of the elevator, not to mention that it was running in the fragile track after the earthquake. It was slamming into the depths of the elevator shaft at an accelerating rate, at which point the Deadpool would of course be smashed to death, and the four of you would invariably be buried with her.

"Shoot!" Chisei yelled with his last strength.

You watched Caesar look into the eyes of Chisei in surprise.

"Shoot me! Hit me in the neck! Its head is right back there!" Chisei spurted out a mouthful of blood.

Caesar gritted his teeth fiercely. He was ready to shoot.

But his fingers were trembling, it was as if the blackness of the world had surrounded him and was pressing in on him, closing in and laughing, mocking him. You stood in that darkness and you could offer no answer. After all, what mercy had the world ever offered you?

A mere few days ago, you wouldn’t hesitate to reasonably make the judgment that sacrificing one person can save everyone, and it's worth doing. But now you stared at Caesar and shook your head. You didn’t want to live in a world without his justice.

You take your bronze claw dagger and stab it into Chu Zihang’s side! Caesar turns at his gasp of pain. You rise up like a lioness to seize Caesar’s wrist and push it upward, pointing the Desert Eagle in the air. You’re face to face with him and bare your teeth.

"’Never leave a friend’ is your justice.” You force the words through your dead vocal cords. Your eyes stare into his eyes and they’re cold and black as the ice sea. “I live for your justice and I will die for your justice!"

Caesar stares for a moment and, for that moment, the cheeks on either side of his face grow gradually pink.

Chisei suddenly smiled. He rarely smiles. His smile is surprisingly beautiful.

"Gattuso-kun, in fact, I have thought about being ...... friend of justice." Chisei let go of the handrail and was instantly sucked into the void outside the elevator car.

Caesar barely prevented you from plunging out there with him in your effort to stop him. He threw you back against the door of the elevator. Your vision exploded into sparks and for a moment you couldn’t move.

“Chu Zihang!”

The elevator suddenly stopped, pressing you to the floor. You blink your eyes open. Caesar and Chu Zihang are gathered by the hole in the elevator wall, shoulder to shoulder. They weren't moving, in fact, they were grunting with great effort. They were backing up from the gap and in their hands was the rope. The rope that he’d tied Chisei up in was being pulled up back into the elevator and attached to that rope was Chisei!

You gasp and crawl forward. He was unconscious, pale like death. His sword was stuck through him, front to back, but he was alive. He was still alive. Caesar looks down at you, but oddly doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks shy, almost embarrassed?

“We need to find a way out of here.” Chu Zihang, ever practical, hands you the claw dagger back. You stare at it a moment and then tuck it in your belt to let Caesar carry you out.

Together, you climb out of the elevator and into the darkness of the shaft, until you take a rest on the beam. Caesar is puffing on a cigar. You’re sitting in Caesar’s lap like a child. Exhausted, you’re turning the bronze colored claw dagger over and over in your hands, watching the play of light on it.

You all sit in silence like this for an hour.

Your head was burning and you felt numb and yet, deep down, the arctic ice that had held onto your soul since waking up at Cassell was starting to fracture and the summer sun was beginning to rise. You rest your head against Caesar’s chest and look up into his eyes.

He lets out a puff of smoke. “You’re not going to fall for me, are you?”

Your eyes narrow and then you huff. “No. I was just thinking…You weren’t going to let me die from the moment we met, right? You stinker.”

Caesar tapped the ash over the edge of the beam. “So you finally get it.”

“Uh huh. I’ll always miss my friends.” Your lip trembles a bit but you once again control it. “But… I think… with you… That’s okay.”

Caesar bit his cigar and grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

You lower your eyes to Chu Zihang who had been tending to his own injuries and was now working on Chisei’s many wounds, while he rested on the beam. “Sorry, I stabbed you.”

“It was impressive.”

You laugh, unsure of how to respond to that.

The building was chock full of Hydra operatives now. You couldn’t leave the elevator shaft yet. They were probably all looking for Chisei so you had to wait for him to wake up.

Chisei started to stir under Chu Zihang’s medical care. Caesar carefully settled you against the wall of the shaft and catwalked over to stare down into Chisei’s eyes. He pulled the last cigarette from his pocket, stuck it in Chisei’s mouth and lit it, the fire illuminating the man’s pupils. Chisei struggled for a moment but he was still in pain and tightly bound.

"The emperor hybrid is really different, huh. A serious wound like harakiri only took an hour to heal. I want to have such a good body.." Caesar moved the lighter closer to his face and illuminated it to Chisei, showing his healing injury. In the next moment, he’d kicked Chisei off the beam. The rope pulled taut where the end was tied and Chisei Gen hung from it.

"Won't you consider untying me?" Gen Chisei smiled bitterly, "It's a little inconvenient to smoke and hang from a rope."

"Not quite. With someone of your low integrity, I still can't believe you. The minute I untie you, you’ll assault us again.." Caesar gripped his cigar, "Let’s just have a good conversation."

"Is the family style of the famous hybrid Gattuso family that shameless?" Chisei exhaled a puff of smoke.

"You call this shameless?" Caesar shrugged, "If you think this is shameless, you haven't met my studly old man." After a few seconds of silence Caesar mumbled. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. At the time I really wanted to escape and leave all you behind. I'm not a friend of justice. I've done a lot of bad things, I've killed people."

"Ghosts?" Chu Zihang asked.

"We call them Ghosts, but they are actually the same hybrid species as us, only more likely to become deadly." Chisei whispered, "To some extent all of us are ghosts."

"The mural is ruined, but we took pictures. Although you do not want us to, we have to take these pictures. The Academy and the Hydra are now in a hostile relationship, and now that the Deadpool group is also finished, your cooperation with us is over, and we all revert to hostile relations." Caesar took a drag on his cigar.

You listen to the conversation and your heart is surprisingly calm when you hear that you won’t be seeing Chisei any time soon. Chisei looks up at you. “I guess we’ll have to make plans for sake later?”

Caesar gives you a look of sharp disbelief.

You stick your tongue out at him. “I meant it as a lady.” But you offer no further explanation. It wasn’t his business.

"Then you have to leave quickly, with my recovery speed, this rope won’t hold me for long.." Chisei smiled again.

"You can’t fool me. This rope can tether an elephant. I also tied it with a sailor knot, so the more you struggle, the tighter it will get. Your body is not as strong as we thought. You super hybrids are slightly stronger than us, but your bones and muscles can not be compared with a real dragon. You might be worse than those deadpool but the minute you release your Yanling you’re defenseless. In short, you're strong, but not necessarily without flaws." Caesar sneered.

"Well, well you guys see through me. What do you want to do with me?"

"It was too difficult to take you away, and, in the end, I decided to leave you here. Your men are looking all over the building for you, but they didn't expect you to be hanging in the middle of the elevator shaft just yet. Seriously, I think that Assistant Sakura likes you a lot, don't you?" Caesar waved his cigar.

"I'm not getting a girlfriend until I leave Japan, and isn't it a bit much to ask a woman like her to give up her life to go to France with me to sell sunscreen?"

"Isn’t that exactly like leaving behind your status as the head of the big family to go to France?"

"I am a person who has done a lot of evil. My hands are stained with the blood of many ghosts, fleeing to France to settle down would be good, I am not going to France, I’m trying to escape." Chisei said leisurely.

"You said you also want to be a friend of justice?" Caesar raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone wants to be a friend of justice when they are children." Chisei said faintly.

"Are you mocking me for still being stuck in a child's state?" Caesar gave Chisei a poke and sent him spinning.

You giggle. It hurt but that struck you as funny.

“What are you laughing at?” Caesar smiles at you.

You reply "Friends of Justice are the words from Ultraman, a cartoon for kids."

"Ultraman?"

"Superman who came to Earth from the universe to help Earthlings fight alien monsters. The heir of the Gattuso family should not have seen that kind of thing. We all watched it when we were kids. In elementary school, kids could be seen discussing which Ultraman was more powerful and saving their lunch money to buy plastic models of Ultraman. Did you do this MC?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I was a Sailor Moon fan. And James Bond fan.”

“Ah…” Chisei sighs. “Ultraman said his fans are friends of justice. We are friends of Ultraman, so we are also friends of justice. The more powerful monsters will be defeated by the friends of justice. Every episode they say that, so as children, we are convinced." Chisei mumbled slyly, "One year school performance, I went on stage to sing the theme song of Ultraman, I still remember the tune ......"

"Beep beep beep,

lots of monsters.

Look behind you,

beasts through the street there,

just to your left and right.

Can't get enough, can't get enough.

Fly one foot and hit three low,

don't presume to fly away.

Who comes from the universe to fight for freedom?

Who will be faithful to defend the world?

It is you, the great friend of justice!"

You clap your hands. “You have a good voice, Chisei.”

This scene is really weird. The big head of the Japanese yakuza and the only emperor hybrid hanging in mid-air singing the theme song of "Ultraman". The heir of the Gattuso family, Caesar Gattuso and A+ blood Chu Zihang, and you, the S-ranked young woman, are his audience. Everyone should have laughed, but no one did. All of you had childhoods that were long gone, and you paid respects to them the same as you would a long dead ancestor.

The song ended and Caesar clapped his hands.

"But I didn't become a friend of justice, I became the bad guy." Chisei said softly, "My friends are bad people. Yasha turned out to be a street fighter. Crow is a loan shark organization's strong man. Sakura is a killer. And I have done a lot more bad things than you can imagine. You might think the Japanese executive bureau is here to maintain order. But more often, it all just ends in bloodshed.. The mob is like this. In this business only violence speaks. The ones who are the most violent are the loudest. We live by doing evil. We belong to a family. We must be loyal to it. For the benefit of the family, we may strike at the innocent. For the benefit of the family we can sacrifice our companions or ourselves. Everyone can be sacrificed so that more people can live a good life. This world is so cruel. I am not Hikari Ultraman.I can not save everyone. If doing evil can make my people live a better life, then I am willing to become a bad guy."

"Bad people can become good, but bad things will never become right." Caesar said.

Chisei made the effort to give Caesar a look, "At your age you can still say such things, Gattuso-kun. I envy you."

"Is that another Japanese style taunt?"

"No, people who strongly believe in justice are happy people." Chisei said softly.

Caesar was silent for a long time and raised his eyebrows: "What a bitter thing to say. But there's no time for your bitterness, I hear footsteps approaching, it's your people looking for you, right?"

"Goodbye then, have a good trip." Chisei said.

"The next time we meet, we'll be enemies again. Can't we say some warm and fuzzy goodbyes?"

"Don't get involved in this. Leave Japan if you can, this is not something you can get involved in."

"That kind of bullshit might as well be Saying Sayonara.”

"Sayonara." Chisei said softly.

"Sayonara." Caesar said, "People who could have been friends end up like this. The world isn't cruel. It’s Bullshit.”

You stare down at Chisei. You want to say something, but you feel like you and Chisei were strangely similar. You were both violent people and trained to be so from an early age. You both felt similarly when Caesar spouted on about justice and being right and good in a world that was cruel.

“Chisei… please don’t give up…” You whisper, but your voice is still hoarse.

“Come on, girl, he’s not worth your time.” Caesar once again lifts you up on his shoulders like a child and starts to climb. But you look over his shoulder. You and Chisei lock eyes as he hangs there in the void and you keep looking at each other until you’re both out of sight.

#Dragon Raja

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2manyfandoms2count · 5 years ago

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#MarichatMay Day 24

Long post ft. a Reveal, Marichat, lowkey other sides of the lovesquare and fluff :3 Hope you guys enjoy! xxx

Based on the prompt list by @marichatmay

---

Day 24: Confession

“Purr-incess? I might have to confess something.”

“What have you done this time?” Marinette sighed, barely looking up from her newspaper. She was reading the fashion pages, regularly bookmarking pictures from the Paris Autumn Fashion Week report. She wasn’t so much interested in the stars as she was in the trends that were emerging, although there were a couple of good shots of Adrien Agreste that would definitely be making it to her picture-board.

Had Marinette been focusing on Chat Noir instead, she would have noticed how fidgety he was, a lot more hyper than usual. He paced around her room, biting his claws in a nervous habit. Ever since he’d found out Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, he’d done his best to conceal his own identity, while secretly trying to get her attention, but not knowing how to. He hadn’t meant to follow Ladybug Home. In fact, he hadn’t realised he was until he had gotten close enough to Marinette’s flat. He’d been blinded by a familiar red flash just as he prepared to jump onto her balcony, and seen his friend casually walk out from behind the chimney, fishing in her bag to get a macaron out for the red being that floated next to her.

Chat had been meaning to visit Marinette that particular night to welcome her back after her holiday. Which, now that he thought about it, matched Ladybug’s own time off. He thought about all the times he’d missed the connections. How Marinette had never been akumatised. How fast Ladybug appeared when the attacks happened at school, how well she seemed to know the targets. How the only time he’d seen both Marinette and Ladybug together, Trixx had conveniently been amongst the kidnapped Kwamis. How similar Ladybug and the illusory Marinette had looked, down to the hairstyle. For somebody whose main line of business was looks, he certainly had been very blind.

Chat had almost collided with a wall as he ran back to his room, laughing about his discovery and the irony of him calling Marinette an everyday Ladybug. Knowing his Lady, she probably had been panicking inside at the thought of being unmasked. Yet it made so much sense that the most caring, mindful and genuinely kind person he knew was the person behind the mask. How had it escaped him for so long?

He’d spent the rest of the Summer pondering what to do with the information. Should he come clean to Marinette? At least about him knowing? She was the guardian after all, surely it was only a matter of time before she ended up knowing about his identity anyway.

When school started again, still unsure about what to do, Adrien had probed Alya and Nino to figure out if they also knew. Alya being hot on LB’s tracks all the time, surely she must have been aware that her favourite superhero was her best friend. After talking with her, he concluded that either she didn’t know, or she played her cards reaaaally close to her chest. She’d let something slip about Marinette liking him, though, which, once he’d calmed the butterflies in his stomach -the girl of his dreams liked him back-, had lead him to spend a lot of time trying to get closer to her. He thought it would be perfect; he’d know the truth, but she didn’t have to.

Except that to everyone’s disbelief, Marinette had gently rejected Adrien’s date invitations. Once. Twice. Three times. Alya could not fathom what was going on in her best friend’s head, and she wouldn’t tell her. She just said she had a secret crush, but that she couldn’t say anything more. Adrien’s heart ached a bit, but guessed that after all the time he’d made her suffer by calling her a “good friend”, it was normal that she had moved on. He might have been slightly jealous, but he had respectfully backed away.

Until tonight. Chat Noir had been visiting Marinette (just because she wouldn’t date him didn’t mean he didn’t want to hang out with his friend), and she’d left him for a bit to get some croissants from the bakery. Left unsupervised, Chat had skimmed through her latest sketches, her talent never failing to impress him. And that’s when he’d seen her diary, open wide. It had been pushed back behind her computer monitor, probably when he’d arrived. He really hadn’t meant to pry, but as his gaze landed on the page, he saw his name. Chat Noir.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he had read the diary entry, his cheeks warming as he read her silent confession that she liked him. She seemed a little conflicted about her feelings, but his bad puns were the main thing she held against him. It was all he could do not to waltz with her when she came up the stairs.

Marinette mistook his delight for over excitement at the thought of eating pastries, which she faced every time she gave Chat anything to eat. She refrained from worrying about his eating habits, given that he’d admitted to being a high level, part time sportsman (he wouldn’t say which sport, but the fact that his right arm muscles were a bit more developed than his left had made her assume it was tennis). His enthusiasm had made her smile, but she hadn’t paid much attention to it as she opened the magazine Chat had brought her.

“I might have agreed to us going on a double date? Adrien Agreste asked if I could organise a dinner with Ladybug, and well, I didn’t want to be the third wheel so I said we’d both go...” Chat was making it up as he went. This could be a solution to his conundrum. An opportunity to tell her who he was, that he knew, and (he could dream) to make out with her on the Paris rooftops.

“You what?” The magazine fell flat on her lap as all colour drained from her face.

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have asked first, but he has a photo shoot opportunity for us and wanted to meet her in another context first... And Ladybug said yes.” He looked straight into her eyes as he iterated the last sentence, daring her to contradict him.

Marinette gaped at the audacity. The blatant lie. It hit her that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say except accept the proposition. The way Chat looked at her told her he at least suspected there was a link between her and Ladybug. She couldn’t call him out on Ladybug’s supposed agreement to go. Outright refusing the dinner invitation would be fishy.

She took a deep breath before replying. “Okay, fine, then.” She could always make up an excuse closer to the date.

Her answer took Chat by surprise, but he did his best to hide it. He promised he’d be in touch as he left, and pressed a longing kiss on Marinette’s forehead, drawing a bright shade of crimson to her cheeks as he did so.

---

Ladybug swung from chimney to chimney on her way to the rooftop. She’d decided it would be Marinette bailing tonight. How could she explain getting there otherwise? And after all, it was Ladybug whom Adrien wanted to see.

She landed at the meeting point, expecting to find the two boys she’d ever had feelings for. Instead, only one was present.

“Good evening, Adrien.” She smiled. Her romantic feelings for him had melted as her relationship with Chat bloomed. Adrien’s recent interest in her had further confused her, but she was certain now that her heart belonged to a certain leather-clad cat. “Has Chat not made it yet?”

“Actually, he has.” He gave her an oddly familiar smile, one she wasn’t used to seeing on him.

“Oh?” She asked, discreetly looking around. She noticed the candle-lit table in the center of the rooftop, a single rose laid on one of the two plates. Ladybug stared at him blankly, her brain taking a minute to register the information. “Is he not staying for dinner, then?”

“Just as much as Marinette will.”

“Do you mean...”

“Plagg, claws out.” Adrien called out, holding his hand out. A black blur cycloned towards his simple, silver ring, and in a green flash, the model was replaced by her partner.

Her face was tense from trying very hard not to gape. Her jaw would probably have hit the floor otherwise.

“You knew.” She managed to articulate.

“I did.”

“Tikki, spots off.” She felt more comfortable speaking as herself. Which she knew was stupid. She was Ladybug. And Adrien was Chat Noir. “I can’t believe you managed to make me fall for you twice.” She knew there were more pressing matters. They were out in the open, they’d both transformed. They now both knew who the other was. But for once she let her heart speak for her first.

“In my defense, you claw-ly have a type.” He chuckled. They were facing each other now, close enough for his hand to come and cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“As if you don’t!” She snorted, her eyes lost in his green ones. They reflected the flickering candles in a warm way, making her feel at Home.

“Never said I didn’t.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. On her nose. On her cheek. “You know, I lied the other day when I said I had to confess something.” He whispered as he continued trailing kisses on her face, behind her ears, just below her jaw.

“Oh yeah?” She sighed, savouring the moment.

“My actual confession is, I love you, my Ladynette.” He smiled tenderly as he drowned into the sapphire of her eyes.

“And I love you, my Chadrien.”

Their lips found each other like two butterflies as they stood in their own bubble, the Eiffel Tower erupting in lights behind them as the clock struck the hour.

#slightly cringing at the ending #but i actually didn't know where i was going until i got there #and then i just sort of embraced it #marichatmay2020 #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #ladybug #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous reveal #confession #elle writes

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susoftjockau · 5 years ago

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Cheers - SU Soft Jock Fic

Summary: Steven’s first impression of the OTA’s cheerleading group.

Created by @borkthemork.

—–

“Mr. Universe, we’d like to advise you not to touch the trinkets; your coach will meet you shortly.” Steven looked up. His fingers were still tapping the office desk’s waterbird decoration, keeping its plastic head bobbing into its tiny cup of water. The lady behind the desk was polite, but the strain in her words reminded him of his manners—that he was in an institution that didn’t allow him to fumble about to his heart’s delight. “And I’d like to keep my workplace clean if you understand that.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” He said, pulling his hand away, giving an abashed shrug. “I’ll just wait at the chairs then?”

“That would be good.” The woman looked relieved from this. Steven strode over to the active lobby, plopping onto a seat, his backpack finding a home between his legs.

The main office was a pale expanse of architecture. There were flags stretching to the high contours—spiraling into a rainbow of colors—and the walls were spotted with pictures of interesting people with their interesting faces. It wasn’t like Homeworld’s offices, but the similarities hit him when he examined more in his boredom. Especially with the idle atmosphere of it all.

This was where he would be, he thought; the start of a song humming in his throat. He had the decision to enroll himself and he took it, and now it will be the start of a new period in his life, where he can improve as a leader and meet new people he never had the time to get close with until now.

“Steven Universe.” He perked up. Behind the desk was a woman, her eyes surveying the lobby’s denizens with an unreadable expression. “Is there a Steven Universe in the crowd?”

“I’m here!”

She spotted him, lips curling into a pleasing look. She pointed to him. “Okay, so, you’re Steven Universe?”

He nodded, grabbing his backpack. “Sure am.”

“What a name ya’ got there. Pack your things, we’re going to get you up to speed.” The woman motioned him over. Steven, in his enthusiasm, shot up from his seat. He grabbed his bag, strode over to the office desk’s quick in-and-out door, and followed her like a newly exploring puppy.

When asking for her name, the only thing she could respond with was her last name: Diane. She was a middle-aged woman, reminding him of Vidalia and a few others back home. Hairs fraying into streaks of grey in a bob cut, eyes warm like pools of chocolate, it was a surprise to see that she still had affordable muscle as they walked, watching her do back-and-forths with an athlete who kept throwing her a basketball until one of them broke the chain. To be fair, he always met strong women in his life that were older than the average young adult—he should be used to it by now.

“It’s nice to have another male cheerleader,” she told him, waving her student away for the last time. She kept fidgeting, her tone starting to grow high strung. “We haven’t had one ever since three years ago. It’s a real shame too since the boy was really nice.”

“Well, I hope I get to make a good impression.” Impressions always need to be the best. If you had to welcome someone new, you needed to make sure they’re welcome and open to novel possibilities, else they’ll be hiding in your bathroom for weeks over a world so foreign and daunting.

“Trust me, you definitely will.” She reassured him with a smile. “The girls are always wanting new members for their troup and they’re very nice, I promise that.”

“Any faces I should know?” He leaned forward, both hands clasped onto his backpack’s straps with a skip in his step like he was ready to take on the world. “Tips? Anything to help a new student out? I’m all for it.”

“You’re a nice man, you wouldn’t have much trouble.” The coach nodded. Steven noticed the fields they passed: clean and crisp, a few athletes already playing on the football field, the dew of the trees glistening overhead like makeshift stars peeking out in morning light. “Just remember that, if you ever have any trouble with the group or you need anything specific, just tell me. I’ll handle it from there.”

He nodded. Both of them stopped at a huge building, looking similar to the gym he noticed out near the front of the academy.

“So, here we are!” She said, motioning towards it with a smile. “This is where we practice. Usually, other schedules for differing programs leads us to move the cheerleading mats to substitute places, but this is where we’ll take part.”

“Does it have a place for me to change, too?” Steven looked up, trying to find the very top of the building.

“In the backs. But I want you to meet the girls first before we can get you geared up.” Opening the door, Steven followed her inside.

The whole thing wafted of drywall. Amid it, with banners plastered in different partitions, floor smooth with lacquer, he watched a group of women in the middle of blue mats—which covered much of the central establishment. They were huddling in small groups, attempting to lift one girl out of each troup into the air by the use of their adjoined hands. All of it looked coordinated, albeit sluggish.

The coach’s whistle sounded. The girls, placing their companions back onto the ground, looked over at the both of them like a curious band of cats. “Girls, come here for a sec!”

Being the center of attention was normal with Steven. He had pairs of eyes on him ever since he was born in a blare of light, but there was some hint of disquiet at the sight of them surrounding him in silence. No reaction, no clear voice piping up or asking questions about who he was. Just mute observation.

“Girls, I’d like you to meet Steven Universe.” Coach patted his back, making him sound off with a minuscule grunt. “He’ll be your newest member of the team, so I’d expect good behavior from all of you.”

One of them stepped out from the crowd, giving a nod with her hazel-crowned hair. There was poise, an elegance that Steven wondered was normal for cheerleaders to have. “I’ll make sure the team accepts him fully, Coach. You have my word.”

The coach’s eyes softened. It was like a burden was lifted off her chest, that the idea that he was in good hands removed some piece of anxiety from her mind. “Okay, okay, thank you, Natalie. Now that that’s out of the way, I’ll introduce each of you, so keep still.”

She beckoned the girls to straighten up in a messy line, leaving Steven to wander his eyes from left to right, trying to spot a few distinctions within each line-up: Georgie, a blonde rife with dyed-red streaks through her hair; Ophelia, a dark-skinned muscle whom nodded her head to a silent beat; Riley, thin and looming with a curled smile; Fiona, one pupil lazying about while staring at him in concentration; Jacky, feet tapping and pinky pressing to her thigh in nonchalant rhythm; Carly, black bob framing bang-covered curved eyes; Amanda with the cleft-lipped and crooked nose; Pamella in her leaning, threatening-to-topple stance; and then Natalie. Too many to count, but noticeable to point out.

At the end of the introductions, the coach fished out a ringing phone from her pocket. Giving a quick nod, she placed it back inside.

“All right, well.” She clapped once. “I have to go talk to Coach Ridley about something, so I hope all of you behave until I get back.”

“We won’t,” Natalie reassured her once again. With the pleasantries over, there was an implicit tension that Steven couldn’t put his finger on. Like he was about to be bombarded by something, but he didn’t know what.

With it, the coach laughed heartedly, giving a wave at the group. She closed the door behind her.

He turned back at the girls, watching them continue to stare at him with shifting expressions. “Uhm, hi?”

The next few seconds were a blur of voices.

“Steven, hello!”

“Another boy!? Hallelujah!”

“We’re adopting him, right?”

"Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“We need to check schedules!”

“You look so cute!”

“I love your hair!”

“Hold on!” The group stopped at the rise of Natalie’s voice. A casual smile on her, she took her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Steven. Don’t mind them, they’re usually like this.”

“‘Usually’? Natalie, don’t be lying to him in the first second!”

“Georgie, shush!” Natalie looked back at him. He finally reciprocated her handshake, easing into the atmosphere. She was the makeshift leader of them, no doubt about it—it made him relax more than he expected. “But, before we allow you into our ranks, I need to ask you something.”

His smile morphed into a frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nope, just a quick question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Are you bi?”

The inquiry made him blink—expression morphed in contemplation. That question came out of nowhere, but with the way it was told, it was more so out of curiosity than anything else. He was happy to oblige, a growing giddiness in his stomach. “Pan.”

“I KNEW IT!” The outburst lead him to jump back and laugh at the girl’s aggressive shout, which diffused to the rest of the girls in a wave of calamity. “I’M NOT THE ONLY GAY IN THIS DAMN GROUP!”

One cheerleader shoved her out of the way. “You’re hogging the attention, Nat! All of us want to welcome him too!”

“You can get all this attention out of my cold bare hands, Amanda!” Natalie shouted back.

“My knuckles are happy to oblige!”

Fiona butted in. “Guys, we’re not doing this again!”

With the sight of the girls going into fake fighting stances, his amusement shone through; Steven had no clue what was happening, but he might as well go along with it.

He was going to be cheerleading with them for the entirety of his college years. He welcomed the chaos.

#steven universe #su soft jock au #fic #before years

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 1

Prologue

Obiyuki AU Bingo Medical Drama AU

Here it is guys, the modern AU version of Seven Suitors for Shirayuki that you all asked for and I thought I would never really write. Obviously the chapters for this will not be 1:1 with parallel content-- I think we ALL would like to avoid another Chapter 6-- but here at least is the beginning of what I’m sure will be a stupidly long journey.

Plink. Plink. Plink plink plink--

“You know.” Shirayuki sets her hands flat against the keyboard, the surest way to keep them from becoming fists. “I really don’t think the janitorial staff will appreciate having to get those down.”

Obi turns wide eyes on her, striving for an air of innocence she doubts he’s possessed since long before his voice dropped. “What do you men, Miss?”

He twirls a pen between his long fingers-- cheap ones, little blue Bics that hardly scratch out a solid line since the hospital cut down on frivolous spending-- and flicks his wrist. It flies unerringly upward, lodging itself firmly in the particleboard of the ceiling.

At least it won’t be lonely with all its friends to keep it company. “They can’t just leave those up there, Obi. It’s probably a fire hazard.”

At least, she thinks so. Considering how EHS feels about anything being on the floor besides furniture and feet, she can only imagine they have strong opinions on ceilings too.

Obi scoffs, languidly kicking his legs over the arm of his chair. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but with his long limbs and cunningly tailored suit, Obi just looks dangerous, like a panther behind glass.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Another projectile unerringly hits its mark. “They’ll come down on their own.”

Her mouth flirts heavily with a frown. “So I can look forward to a pile of pens on my floor next Monday?”

“Nah.” Teeth flash between his lips. “It’ll be all cleaned up before you get here.”

Shirayuki stifles a sigh, turning her attention back to her notes. Exasperation only encourages him. “I’ll be done soon. If you want you can wait in the hall--”

“Miss.” He presses a hand to his chest, affronted. “Would I ever leave your side? What if something happened to you while there was this one, flimsy door between us? What would Master--”

“Don’t let Zen catch you calling him that.”

“--even do to me if some terrible fate befell you while I turned away for just one moment?” He blinks, far too innocent to be earnest. “You wound me, Miss.”

She lets out a huff, flyaways fanning out around her face. “Considering how many bags of Funyuns you’ve fished out of the vending machine the past year, I think it’s safe to say that nothing will happen to me if you choose to harass Higata down at the nurse’s station instead of me.”

His smile sits stiffly on his lips, pen stilling between his fingers. “It did happen, once.”

Her heart gives a single, loud pound in her chest. “Obi--”

“Anyway.” His smile slides into a smirk, sitting more comfortably on his face. “We’re back on days after this, aren’t we?”

Her fingers roll back into their rhythm, keys tacking pleasantly beneath them. “For a little while at least. Why, do you have exciting plans?”

“Miss.” His expression wilts like a plant left in the maintenance closet. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

She blinks. The answer is simple: lounge around in her scrubs-turned-lounge wear and catch up on The Great British Baking Show while eating a staggering amount of Thai food. But he should know that; it’s what she does every weekend after she’s been on nights, and he’s usually right there beside her, making inappropriate comments about Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes and speculating if he comes by the last name honestly or whether he had a stint in the adult film industry.

(”It’s the future, you know.” She waggles his smart phone; hers is still in her bedroom. As nice a gesture as it was from Zen, she’s never quite gotten used to keeping it on her. “We could just google it.”

“No.” He turns to her, affronted. “I appreciate the thought, Miss, but there are some things you don’t google.”

She arches a brow, tucking her feet under his butt on the cushion. He lets out a put-upon grunt, but allows it. “You just don’t want to find out it’s some old, perfectly respectable English last name.”

“It’s not that,” he snips as Netflix rolls through to the next episode, promising nun-shaped pastries. “Knowing things ruins the mystique.”)

“I mean,” he sighs, “are you going out with the boss?”

“Oh!” She stares, helpless. “I don’t...know? He hasn’t said anything to me.” She gives the keyboard a few cursory pecks before asking, “Has he said anything to you?”

His expression only falls flatter. “Has he said anything to me about your theoretical romantic plans?”

Her cheeks prickle, the sure sign that a blush is starting to dawn. “Well, you usually know before me!”

“I...wish I could say that isn’t true,” he sighs, rolling until he’s sitting properly in his seat-- or at least, as properly as Obi ever does, slouched so low that his chin is level with the ankle crossed over his knee. “But it is. And no, I haven’t...heard of any plans.”

“There you have it.” She waves a hand and turns back to her work. “No plans. Just us, some Thai, and a bunch of decorative but delicious meat pies.”

“And Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes,” he says with more relish than anyone should. “But you’re all right with that?”

“What? Of course.” She shrugs, clicking down to the last field. “He’ll call if he has time. And if not, there’s always next week.”

Obi arches an undeservedly dubious brow, in her opinion. “Next week?”

“Sure.” She barely pauses as she says, “Zen’s a busy man. And I’m a busy lady! I don’t need to see him every weekend. Or every week!”

“Right,” he huffs, “but you, you know, presumably would want to see him more than you did when we lived three thousand miles away.”

“Obi.” Shirayuki shoots him a warning look. “We see each other plenty, and certainly more than every six months--”

“Ten months.”

“Fine, ten months.” She shrugs, gazing fixing back onto her screen. “Still. We saw each other just last week.”

He blinks. “Last week?”

“Yes, last Saturday.” She tilts her chin up, chuffed she’s remembered it. “We went to the Getty Center to see the Monet exhibit.”

“Miss.” His mouth twitches. “That was three weeks ago, and you were bored out of your mind.”

Her jaw drops. “I-- I was not!”

“You kept calling him Manet, blamed it on your Portland ‘accent’--” Obi does some vigorous finger quotes she does not appreciate-- “when the curator corrected you, excused yourself halfway through and then speculated whether drowning was a peaceful death while we stared out at the Pacific.”

Her lips pull thin, and she pointedly shifts her attention back to the screen. “I need to finish this.”

Obi raises his brows, rucking up the silvery slash above his eye. “You were bored.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of art, no.” Her fingers hesitate above the keys. “Three weeks?”

He nods. “Three weeks.”

She grimaces. “All right, let me just get the notes for this discharge written up for Garrack, and we can head out.”

“Oh, the discharge?” Obi’s looking far too pleased with himself. “You mean the ultrasound girl?”

“Yes?” His sudden interest is unnerving, to say the least. “Third trimester pregnancy, lots of blood and cramping, thought she was losing the baby, ended up just having a ruptured luteal cyst.” She stares at him, brows drawing down in confusion. “Did Ryuu tell you about it?”

“Mm-hm.” If it was possible to look like those little mischievous kitty emojis he sends her, he’d be doing it now. “And that you held her hand through the whole sonogram dealie.”

“Well, yes. No one was with her.” The girl had been so pale she nearly matched the sheets. “I wasn’t going to let her find out she had a stillbirth by herself. That’s just cruel.”

His eyes melt from gold to amber. “Of course you wouldn’t, Miss.” In a breath that softness is gone, replaced by his Cheshire Cat grin. “But are you sure that’s all?”

“W-what else would it be?”

“Ryuu said you were very interested in that baby on the screen.”

“I’m an obstetrician, Obi--”

“No need to deny it, Miss,” he assures her. “I understand completely. After all, some of that may be in the cards for you, soon.”

Shirayuki stares at him. “A luteal cyst?”

Obi heaves a sigh. “No, Miss! Maybe you have--” he waggles his narrow brows-- “baby fever.”

“What?”

“It’s only to be expected, after all,” he says with a shrug, as if this were a done deal. “You and Master have been together for six years.”

Shirayuki nearly balks, nearly suggests that he takes a walk down to the pediatrics ward and ask to check out their number line--

Until she does some mental math of her own. It has been six years. “But I-- but we-- we haven’t--”

Obi’s brows lift in a terrible cross between amusement and curiosity. “You have talked about this, haven’t you?”

They most definitely have not, which didn’t seem like an oversight until just this moment, and now--

“Shirayuki.”

She jumps, eyes darting to the door. “Dr Gazalt! I didn’t-- I didn’t expect you.”

Garrack blinks, brows raising. “Yes, me. The one who is waiting for your shift notes. Higata tells me there’s a discharge I have to sign for?”

“Oh, yes. I--” she glances at the empty notes field-- “I’ll get that done right away. I was just, ah, finishing up now.”

“Hm,” Garrack grunts, gaze shifting to where Obi is contorted in his chair. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping you.”

“Why, Chief,” he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t possibly think I was being anything but the most helpful for Doctor--”

“Oh, I know what you were being.” There’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and a spark in her eye as she reveals, “A nuisance.”

“Chief.”

“I’ll be done in a minute!” Shirayuki interjects, too shrill. Both of them turn to her, brows raised mildly, and she adds, “Just, ah, give me some quiet.”

“You heard the lady, big boy.” Garrack grins. “Looks like you’ll be shadowing me.”

Obi’s expression rings with alarm. “Oh, I think I’m supposed to--”

“Oh no, you’re not escaping this time.” She reaches in, getting a good grip on his tie, and tugs. “I got some heavy things that need to be lifted.”

save me pls Miss

I’m almost done

Miss she wants me to help rearrange the stock room PLS hurry

Five minutes

im wasting away i can feel the life leaving my body

We’ll get breakfast This will go faster if you stop interrupting me

the angels are calling me home theres a light at the end of the tunnel Miss

Walk towards it This is probably your only chance at heaven

M I S S

It’s no use, Obi. I may be an optimist, but I’ve seen your search history

Touche

It’s not until she’s in the elevator that it hits her: she’s forgotten something.

Her brain is, as usual, coy with the rest of the information. Did she forget something important on her report? Did she leave her keys back on her desk? Does she have some appointment this evening that will keep her from getting confused every time someone says biscuit in the tent?

Nothing comes to mind, the answer hanging frustratingly out of reach. She’d have better luck trying to get Obi to talk about his past than she will trying to brute force this memory.

Shirayuki sighs. Time to check everything.

She’s wearing clothes-- check. They’re not her scrubs-- also check. Shoes match-- double check.

Her hand sweeps into her purse. Keys-- ouch, yep, check. Wallet-- check. Phone--

Buzzes hard against her palm.

Shirayuki blinks. It’s quick, only lasting a beat before it stops. Just a text, but-- it’s eight in the morning. Even with all her early-rising, day-shift doctor friends, this is well before their first morning coffee has kicked in. This is--

Weird. Worryingly weird. She drags the phone out of her bag, waking the screen to be greeted with 12 MISSED CALLS.

Shirayuki stares. That can’t be right. She’s kept her phone on her all shift, only tossing it into her bag when she’d stopped by her office to log her notes. There’s no way she’s had that many calls in an hour. And texts--

Well, that number is staggering. Her screen shows only the last one, a very cheerful, ill kill him and hide the body so well hell get famous as cold case from Yuzuri. She grimaces. Whatever Suzu’s done now, he’ll spend the whole day regretting it.

Well, that’s not exactly fair. It could be Kazaha, or even Shidan if he’d made her work down in the pharmacy hard enough. But...

It’s definitely Suzu.

She traces the appropriate squiggle onto her phone to open it and her homescreen unfurls before her. Her thumb hovers right above the little speech bubble--

A bright ding lets her know she’s arrived at ground level, and the entirely unamused bodyguard leaning against the doors lets her know that she’s late.

“Well,” she says, tipping the phone back into her bag. “You’re looking...hale?”

“I was promised breakfast,” he reminds her in a pleasant, if displeased rumble. “This is a thing that is happening.”

She makes sure to infuse some extra bounce into her step as she exits the elevator, earning a weary scowl. “Doctor Gazalt must have worked you hard.”

“Doctor Gazalt has some definite opinions about how her office should be arranged.” He raises a hand, rubbing pointedly at his neck. “What do they make the furniture out of here? Bricks?”

“Concrete, probably,” she agrees. “Pancho’s?”

He nods. “Spicy sauce. Extra spicy sauce. I’ll get the car.”

She grins. “Sounds like a deal. Meet me out font in ten?”

He lets out a huff. “I’ll meet you out front whenever I manage to lug my broken body across the parking garage and into the driver’s seat.”

“You poor baby,” she deadpans, patting his arm.

“I’ve suffered,” he tells her, affronted. “And don’t forget! Extra Spicy!”

The hospital is a cool cocoon, it’s temperature scrupulously maintained for the benefit of the labs and supplies inside, and so when Shirayuki emerges into the bright, May morning--

The heat hits her like a wall.

The air is oppressive; with each step it weighs her down, like a body laying across her back, and oh, she cannot wait until Obi gets here with the towncar, because there is no way she can last more than ten minutes without air conditioning.

Shirayuki has to laugh at that as she trudges down the granite stairs. She, who had spent her summers in a stuffy attic of an old Victorian house with only a single circular window to allow air in, happily devouring book after book as she laid on her bed with little more than underwear on, to whom air conditioning was a ridiculous luxury--

And now she can’t live without it. Probably couldn’t bear to sleep in a tiny twin bed either, with a mattress last changed out when she stopped wetting the bed. Not now that she’s experienced queen size and memory foam. Zen’s truly made sure she can never go home again.

Not that it was an option, anyway.

She oozes onto the pavement, taking a moment to really feel how sweaty twenty steps and thirty seconds can make her, and turns, goal blessedly in sight. Pancho’s lime green paint glistens in the morning sun, and the smell of meat cooking on the griddle inspires her to make the last three yard push. Well, that and she’s absolutely sure that Obi won’t let her in the car empty handed, not after he had to move Garrack’s desk.

“Good morning!” Shirayuki manages. “Two breakfast burritos. One...al pastor...extra spicy. The other...veggie? Mild.”

The vendor peers down from the counter-- it’s the dark-haired one, Shiira. Good. He won’t scream if she passes out in front of him. “Doing okay there, ma’am?”

“Never better,” she assures him, knuckles white where she grips the metal. It’s the only thing keeping her upright “I love heat. So much.”

His mouth curves into a faint smile, ringing up her order. “Boston thinned your blood, did it?”

“I’ll get used to it.” It’s been a year, sure, but it will happen at some point. It has to. “I did it before.”

He barks out a laugh, mouth opening to say more until his gaze catches over her shoulder. “Oh, can I take your order, sir?”

Shirayuki steps off to the side, her shoulder bumping hard into the magazine rack hanging off the window. It wibbles hard, metal banging against metal as it vibrates against the side of the truck. She catches it with a grimace, stilling it before it can make more of a racket, and glimpses the name WISTERIA on the front page. Her hand hovers, ready to grab it--

And catches the National Enquirer above it. Her hand jerks back like it’s been scalded. She doesn’t need to see any of that, thank you. Probably just more articles about Izana’s philandering ways.

She huffs out a laugh. Anyone who wrote about his wife crying in bed, unable to stand from grief has clearly never met her. Yuzuri’s probably read it already, with bullet points ready to bitch about, and--

Oh! Yuzuri. She digs into her bag, fishing out her phone. 12 MISSED CALLS sits bright on her welcome screen, nagging at her. As much as she wants to know just what ridiculous scheme has gotten Suzu in trouble now, she can always catch up later.

With a flick of her thumb she summons her call screen, and there it is, twelve calls missed, and all of them--

All of them are from Yuzuri.

Her heart pounds loud in her ears, the sound of the street around her muted. The screen won’t stay still, making words blur as if she’s trying to read in a dream, as if any moment they’ll drip off the page.

But it’s no dream. She’s had twelve calls from Yuzuri in the past hour, and her hands are trembling.

Something must have happened. Suzu’s hurt, or Kirito’s sick, or-- or--

What had her text said? She swipes a thumb, ready to find out, but--

Her phone buzzes, right in her hand. Shirayuki stares at it, dumb. She must have forgotten to turn on the ringer.

YUZURI it reads, and her heart skips a beat.

“Is everything okay?” she breathes the moment the call connects, one hand clenched in her collar.

“No, nothing is okay,” Yuzuri snaps, voice crackling in that way that means both danger and most probably homicide. “I will fly out there and help you hide the body. There are lye pits everywhere, Yuki.”

She blinks, head jerking back from the whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“Or I’ll do the job myself, if you want,” she continues, undaunted. “I’m sure a rich kid like him has a lot of enemies. We’ll never get caught.”

“Yuzuri.” She shakes her head. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Wha--? Zen!” she says, exasperated. “You mean he hasn’t even told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh my god,” Yuzuri breathes. “I can’t-- you haven’t even seen the news?”

“I was on nights.” She turns to the rack behind her, riffling through the magazines. “I didn’t really have time to-- oh. Oh my.”

WISTERIA WEDDING BELLS TO RING AGAIN! the tabloid boasts, showing Zen right on the front, his hair tousled as he steps down from the private jet. She’d laugh it off, just like she always does-- she’d lost count of the number of times they reported his engagement to Kiki before she got married, and Obi made a habit of buying anything that reported them having an affair so he could snapchat it to Kiki at his leisure-- but this-- this--

(”Is everything all right?” She picks her head up from his shoulder, but beneath her palm she can still feel his heart racing. The movie keeps playing on the screen, something fraught and in French, and when he stares down at her, she can see the white all around his eyes, shining in the dark.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” His arm wraps tighter around her, and he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She’s never realized how much he looks like Izana until now.

She raises a brow. “You seem tense.”

“Ah.” he shifts beneath her, gaze flicking back to the TV. “Yeah, I just-- have a project I have to finish up next week. Just...starting to really feel the deadline. You know how it is.”

A line carves a chasm between his eyebrows, worn by the inexorabe waters of worry. There’s never much she can do for him, the man who wears the weight of the world on his back, but-- but she can do this, sitting back on her knees, fiddling with the watch around her wrist.

“Here,” she says, pulling it tight around his.

He stares down at it, confused, and she smiles. There’s something perversely gratifying to giving a man who has everything something so second-hand it still has the heat from her body. “What--?”

“My lucky watch.”

He tilts his eyes up to watch her, so blue in the dim. “Is this the one I gave to you?”

“After I broke yours?” She nods, smile tilting ruefully. “And now I’m lending this to you. Bring it back safe.”

His fingers brush it, almost reverent. Zen may not let her bear any of his burden, but she can make it feel lighter, even if only for a while. “I...will.”)

Her watch gleams from beneath the cuff of his blazer, visible as he holds out an arm to help a pair of shapely legs behind him. The cover creases in her hands, cracking under her grip, and--

“Are you going to buy that too?” Shiira asks, somehow both pointed and concerned.

Shirayuki shakes herself. The tabloids are always quick to speculate, slapping fiancée over any woman he shared air with for more than a minute. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

And it wouldn’t, not if she hadn’t already thought--

“Shirayuki?” Yuzuri prompts, alarm ringing through every syllable. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she doesn’t know whether or it’s true. “I just have to-- I’ll have to call you back.”

She hangs up with Yuzuri mid-breath, doubtlessly gearing up to give her an earful of opinions. It’s rude, yes, but she can hardly think past the next name on her list, scrolling until ZEN WISTERIA lights up on the screen.

It’s a mistake, it has to be. It’s just some picture, out of context, slapped right onto the page like it means something.

Two foil-wrapped packages slide toward her. “That will be seven forty--”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at--

“This too,” she says, slapping the rag on the counter.

Shiira stares at her, wide-eyed.

She coughs, arranging it with slightly more care. “And, um, a horchata. Please.”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at the tone.

Shirayuki shifts her load to the crook of her elbow, nibbling at a cuticle. “Hi. It’s, um, me again. I just got off shift, and I--” she takes a long, hard breath, and switches tack-- “just call me. Whenever you can. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

A black sedan slips up to the curb, the passenger side door stopping right at her toes. The window scrolls down with a soft hum, and Obi stretches across the seat, his mouth rucking up in a smirk. “Come on, Miss, we don’t have all--”

His whole body stiffens, the warm amber of his eyes fixed to her face. “Miss,” he breathes, lips hardly moving, knuckles white where he grips the console. “Miss, what’s wrong. Are you--?”

She shoves the magazine through the window, crumpling it into his hands. “Miss, what--?”

He stares. Obi might not recognize the watch-- might not even know she had given it away-- but oh, he can recognize the ring.

“That’s Mrs Wisteria’s--”

“Yes.” She can’t even bear to hear it spoke. “Yeah.”

His brow furrows. “There has to be some explanation. You know how these rags like to come up with--”

“He won’t pick up.” Her voice cracks, but she can’t-- she can’t do this here, right on the sidewalk. Not in front of her hospital. His hospital. “Or Mitsuhide. Or Kiki. I don’t...”

Know what to believe. her lips catch the words before they slip out. If she doesn’t say it, it can’t be true, it can’t be real, this can’t be happening.

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi tells her, but his voice wavers, and his hands clench tight on her seat. “Just get in and we’ll--”

Her phone cuts him off. She jumps to answer it, glancing down at the screen to see--

Oh. Oh no.

IZANA WISTERIA, it reads.

“Oh,” Obi breathes. “Shit.”

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #medical drama au #seven suitors #seven swipes #I'd been hoping to at least get to yuuta this chapter #but turns out a modern au takes SET UP guys #but hopefully I'll get to post more soonish #like obiyukiweek soonish #and we can really kick off this adaptation

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czec-hoslo-vak-ians · 4 years ago

Text

I'm so sorry that it's been a lifetime since I reacted and posted a episode blog but I'm back now so lets going on with the episode

Michael and Maria 💜

Scene goes👽

It's nice to see everyone having a good time for a hot second. Max looks hot running without a shirt on I just need to Pause and look at him shirtless for a minute🤤. Love the way that Michael looks at Maria it's just something about it give me all the feels. Tess can heal like that come I mean if no level to Max is healing but still she could heal I wonder why Isabelle and Michael can't. Bizarre that Max just left nocito in his room when his parents could walk in at any moment however I don't think he was thinking logically to hide the body somewhere he was more thinking he has to warn his friends. It totally makes sense now Max was running instead of driving because Isabel had the car. Another is the question why wasn't Max at the party? I love how Michael jumped up and said I'll take care of it course Tess has to shoot him down for no reason at all, but he takes control anyway. Split Second I do feel sorry for Tess she just lost her father figure. A lot of pressure to put on max at this moment.

It looks like Kyle is coming back from football camp. I completely forgot he wasn't in the first episode. I think his dad completely forgot about him. I love how Kyle debauched nacidos name. Don't blame Kyle for being irritated right now. I completely understand where Michael is coming from they are sitting ducks in school right now but however what other plan do they really have if they don't go to school that's suspicious to. Of course a suspicious figure is following Max who else would this be figure be following. But Max has Spidey senses you can tell that something is following him. Now this is dumb Max to go and see what it is, and of course uses his powers. I think he talked his way out of that one.

Max is in a class without one of them other mean people because it seems like they all have class together each one of them is with someone else. New UFO old guy that runs the center seems fishy to me. I do not like him whatsoever or trust him just the way that he kicks Max out.

Vomit right now Max just happens to walk by Tess. Me yelling at him KEEP ON WALKING DONT STOP. I get the feeling that Tess doesn't like being on Earth. Maria trying to be such a good friend saying one thing and then looking out the window and seeing something else the opposite of what you're saying that's like getting crap thrown in your face. Why is it that when Michael says we are not human Max doesn't want to hear it however Tess says the same you can see the wheels turning in his head that he has a point. You can see that Tess is really pushing for Max to remember this other life. Why wasn't Tess door locked Max just walked right in. Question is why did they break into Tess's house and not one of the others? The real question is what are the skins looking for?

Valenti books weird sitting at the table doing bills like that then again this is back in the late 90s. Max and Tess should have knocked because it seems like they are trying to break in, however Valenti shouldnt of pointed the gun like that while opening up the door. He should have called out first. Why is Kyle acting like he's still at camp, he's acting really strange lately what did Camp do to him? I approve Kyle looks good without a shirt on too, how long with his Calvin Klein😁. I do not like that Liz told congresswoman about agent Pierce wanting to break up with her that's lie doesn't sound believable. Whitaker is dumb to believe it.

There has to be a tie fitting between John FK what they're talking about and with Max. I don't think Max ever heard of the expression curiosity killed the cat. Not to be out all that Brody is just right behind him. Brody firing Max is a little suspicious I think then again Max was snooping around when he should have been.

I really like the way that Maria is grown-up look right now last season she was the nerdy boyish look this season she is confident and girly look. This is a way better look for her. I like that Maria is trying to be there for Liz. When you knock and someone doesn't respond, in or it open doesn't mean you open the door and walk in. Whitaker is totally playing with his right now it just have a feeling she 1 not really drunk she just needed Liz to spill out a name.

Tess shouldn't be in Kyle's room like that uninvited and in his clothes. Kyle and Tess could be a interesting combination. I completely understand where Kyle is coming from. Tess really lays it on thick, making him feel bad. But I understand where Tess is coming from too.

Where has Michael been I have not see him all episode. I'm so glad that we get to see him for a hot second. I am so proud of Michael that he standing up for himself I'm telling Max that he has to start listening to to him. It seems like Isabel can't make a decision. She never knows whose side to choose. That girl needs to get a backbone. Michael the dummy that he is never has a plan he just goes off of instincts. Of course it's going to knock Michael out whatever that beeping noises it's cuz he doesn't have a plan or come up with backup.

I'm so glad that Isabelle well finally told Maxx to shut she's starting to get a backbone. I agree with Isabelle Brody has to go. Surprisingly shocked that she said they kill him. What Isabel saying makes total logic cents something needs to be done Max needs to choose a side

I understand the JFK reference to Max present day. JFK was the leader he had two choices to make Max the leader he has choices to make. They are paralleling the two. I think that it's funny that the only person Max has to talk to you right now is Maria and Maria feels really uncomfortable. Maria was somewhat of a help.

I love the slow motion of them walking. I love Max is new power or he can just block people with a green glow. It's Upsetting that Max didn't tell his friends about his new ability. Max almost blew everything , Brody he's an oddball oh, I quite don't believe this whole abduction by alien but then again with this show you just never know. It's only Brody known that he is actually talking to one a them. The wonder that creepy Shadow thing comes and goes.

That was nice of Kyle to give his room to Tess even though she doesn't deserve it. I do not believe anything that Brody told Max. The new waitress hitting on Michael this cannot happen we have to make this stop. I like that Max is taking Maria's advice and doing something to show Liz that he's there for her. OMG the new waitresses the skin 😲. This is not good.

Well you guys the end of the episode I had fun I hope you had fun I'll see you on the other side.

Quote of the episode " Calvin Klein I approve"

Coming up next : surprise

Pic NOT mine

#roswell #michael #maria #ask not #season 2 #max

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ubernoxa · 4 years ago

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Broken Voodoo: The story of the rock band that brought rock n’ roll back to life

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Golden Center

Story Sunmary: The 70s and 80s had Iron Madden, Guns N’ Roses, Skid Row and Morley Crue. It’s 2025 and Rock N’ Roll is more alive than ever thanks to Broken Voodoo kickstarting the rock n roll heart.

(MASTERLIST)

I groaned as I heard what felt like the millionth car horn honk from the street below us. I had been in big cities before, but LA was different. It was so loud, I wondered how anyone could get some sleep.

Fuck

I internally cussed as I felt something hit my head. Had I accidently knocked myself into the table?

I turned over to see Seb glaring at me from across the apartment. He looked pissed. If looks could kill, I would be dead, no question.

“Did you seriously just throw a pillow at me?” I shot back at the bassist. What was he 5 years old?

He looked like absolute shit as he propped himself up on his elbows to speak.

“Shut up and go to sleep. Your groaning woke me up. We have a long ass car ride today, so keep your pot hole shut so I can get some shut eye,” he shot back before rolling over.

Before I could think of some snappy comeback, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I looked up to see Oli, his shoulder length brown hair sticking out every which way. It was the epitome of a bed head. A red mug was placed in front of my face, and I quickly accepted it. All hope of falling back asleep pushed off to dreamland as I followed him onto the fire escape which screamed for help as we climbed out the window.

“Don’t worry, I sit out here every morning...it won’t collapse on us, having us fall to our death,” Oli sent me a not so reassuring smile in my direction as I sat down next to him. The fresh air hit my lungs, waking me up. The smell was refreshing, but anything was better than the smell of toxic BO.

“Well, falling to death isn’t on Jax’s schedule for the day, so I think if we don’t die from the fall then he would kill us for delaying his plan,” Oli’s laughter filled the small fire escape we were using as a front porch.

“Yeah...he always has a plan…” Oli took another sip of his coffee as we watched the sunrise.

The air between us was filled with the noise of drivers slamming on their horns and engines. There was something peaceful about watching the chaos unravel below me. A chaos I was eternally thankful for.

“I’d just ignore Jax, he has never been a morning person...plus his girl was working last night, so

He is a little moody. Kinda reminds me of a teenage girl,” I sent a warm smile towards Oli as he spoke. Between the coffee and his kind words, I could tell that he was trying to cheer me up. I appreciated it.

“Well I have a younger sister, so I am used to dealing with moody teanagers,” I took a sip of coffee before looking out at the ally below us. Oli’s laughter drowned out the noise from the cars passing by the street perpendicular to the ally.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Ohh Jax and I go back a few years. At least four of five years now…it’s kinda funny how time tends to blur itself. This is our third band together. I should warn you that this competition might get...might get a little heated,” his last comment caught me off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“The last band Jax and I were in together was called Halleon. Long story short we left because the lead singer was being….” I watched for a couple minutes as Oli seemed stuck, so I added “a jerk?”

“Yeah...a jerk, that’s a nice way to put it,” he smiled back before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Good morning!” I turned towards the window entrance and heard some shuffling from the apartment.

“Looks like Jen stopped by. It’s best if we stay out here, just in case they get….handsy if ya’ know what I mean,” I nodded and laughed at his response.

Jen looked like she walked straight out of a photo shoot. First off her blonde hair that cascaded down her back looked like she just came from the salon. Don’t get me started on how her hourglass figure was perfectly framed by the daisy dukes and crop top she was wearing. She made me fell like I was back in middle school, braces and all. Intimidated was an understatement.

“Andi...right,” I turned around and sent a small smile towards Jen’s direction.

“Yeah, and you must be Jen! It’s nice to meet you,” I sent a warm smile her way as I shook her hand. Like my mother always taught me. It never cost you any money to be nice.

“Yeah, but you can call me J!” I smiled at her cheerfulness.

It wasn’t long before, Jax and Robin showed up with the pickup truck for us to start loading. It felt like hours had passed as we moved our equipment to the trunk bed.

I ended up sitting shotgun in the truck with Oli, eternally grateful that I wasn’t in the lover's car as Oli had put it. Jax, Robin, Seb, and J were in the lovers car doing god knows what.

The car ride there went a lot faster than expected, and I felt the excitement flow through my veins as we pulled up to the venue.

“Welcome to the Golden Center,” Oli said as the stage came into view as they took the backlots. I didn’t need to guess why this place was called the golden center. The stage was adorned with golden accents and all of the railings and fencing were painted a gold color as well. It looked like it came out of a Disney Princess movie.

“Jax said that we had to follow the yellow arrows to sign in and confirm that we arrived for sound check which is in a couple hours,” I nodded as he spoke and we continued to follow the yellow arrows.

Within minutes, we arrived at checkpoint and had to get out of the truck.

“Name and band?” One of the workers asked when I hopped out of the truck.

“Band: Broken Voodoo. Name: Michelle” I replied while handing her my driver’s license.

“So you’re the new guitarist for Broken Voodoo,” I turned towards the guy who spoke, sending a confused look in his direction.

“Why? What’s it to you?” He looked like an 80s wanna be rockstar. With his shoulder length hair tied back with a bandana, I had to double check I was thrown back in the 80s. Don’t get me wrong I didn’t mind his attire, just like every other 80s rockstar he was hot.

All confidence diminished as I felt him look me over head to toe. Unlike him, I wasn’t dressed like a rockstar. I was wearing gym shorts and some shirt I got from doing gymnastics as a kid. To say that I looked out of place next to him was an understatement. It didn’t matter though, I was only playing with Broken Voodoo for one show. This would all be a fever dream to tell my children with I’m old and crotchety.

“Can you blame a guy for being curious?” he shrugged while keeping his ‘cool guy’ composure.

“Be careful curiosity killed the cat,” I added as the woman handed me some badges, my license and had me sign in. Whoever this wanna be rockstar was, he wasn’t as intimidating as the lawyers I worked with.

This earned a small laughter from which I assumed made all of his groupies swoon.

“How about this, my name is Rus, lead singer of Halleon. Now it’s your turn,” he offered out his hand and I shook it.

“Andi, rhythm guitar for Broken Voodoo.” So this was the jerk that made Seb and Oli leave Halleon.

“Nice to meet you,” he flashed me a million dollar smile I could easily see being on billboards when he made it big.

“I wish I could say the same,” I let go of Rus’s hand and turned towards Oli who seemed less than happy to see Rus standing in front of me.

#fanfic #fanfiction #band fanfiction #rock band fanfiction #guns n’ roses fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #skid row fanfiction

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smutfornerds · 5 years ago

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Dream Catcher // Constantine x Reader

A/N: literally haven’t been able to stop thinking about this here sexually frustrating master of the dark arts. So... here’s this. The cut is placed without an intro cause it goes right into the smut with this one. It’s also almost 6,000 fucking words sorrynotsorry!

Strong hands traveled down the curves of your waist to grope at your hips with desperation. A low growl came from the man pressed behind you, the feeling of his breath on your neck and the obvious tightness of his trousers pressed to your bare backside where he’d already stripped you of your sleep shorts. John’s hands wrapped around the front of you to slip between your thighs, one hand hoisting your leg up while the other found your center. A low groan trickled to your ears when he felt how soaked you already were. “Someone’s eager..” he drawled in a raspy tone, and you nodded frantically in response at the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your wetness. Your hips rocked back to grind against him and he huffed a hard sigh, bringing his fingers to your slit he rubbed the length of you spreading your already dripping mess around. Involuntarily your hips twitched as he found your clit and he smirked, bringing his lips to ghost over your skin with the lightest of kisses. Quickly he began circling his nimble fingers around your nerves, just barely grazing them and lighting a fire in your stomach. A whimper fell from you and made John sink his teeth into your flesh where your neck and shoulder met. Your legs buckled for a moment but he had you gripped tightly to him and wasn’t about to let you fall. His fingers danced over your clit in rougher figure eights and you cried out at the pressure building inside you. “That’s it love, let me take care of you..” His voice echoed through your ears as his fingers moved to slip into you, pumping slowly at first but with how wet you were there was no need for him to ease you into it. His thumb met your clit again and flicked relentlessly as his fingers fucked into you harder with each upward motion. In a matter of seconds your entire body was trembling against John’s, his strong arms the only thing keeping you from toppling forward or into the floor. You felt your walls clenching and he took the cue, thrusting a third and fourth finger into your tightening core as you drew closer and closer. Again he bit into your skin, making your back arch and giving him the perfect angle to work his fingers inside you. His thumb pressed hard to your throbbing bundle of nerves and massaged tight circles against it. Your breathing had become a series of pants and choked whines, especially now with the added force. “Cum for me sweetheart..” were the last words you heard as the tension released from your body. Much to your annoyance and dismay however the next sound you heard was the blaring of your alarm, forcing you to come to terms with the real world not being even a fraction as wonderful and blissful as the one you’d concocted in your subconscious.

Smacking your alarm off you threw your blanket over yourself and rolled over, letting out a slightly muffled but still just as exasperated groan into your pillow. Yet another tortured night dreaming of John Constantine, the obnoxiously sexy demonologist the Legends had so rudely introduced you to. In reality they’d been perfectly nice and he’d even been somewhat cordial upon meeting you, giving your hand a gentle smooch when you extended it expecting a shake. That had been the first of many suave moments that had done your head in the past few weeks. A light rasp on your door alerted you of another person’s presence, and you heard the mechanical whirring as the doors slid open. “Hey Sara wants us on the bridge for a team meeting.” Zari called over to you to which you threw her a lazy thumbs up. Hearing her huff a laugh you expected retreating footsteps to follow but instead you felt her flop onto your bed beside you. Finally uncovering your face you were met with a smirking Zari a few inches away on the other side of your bed. “Bad dream? Or bad dream?” She waggled her brows as she accentuated the word the second time, and you groaned again flopping into your side to face her. “How’d you know?” You whine at her defeatedly only for her teasing grin to widen. “Oh I totally heard you whimpering in your sleep. I was praying you’d slip out a name but no luck.” She shrugged nonchalantly and your eyes went wider than the moon. As mortified as you were it was relieving knowing you hadn’t been muttering John’s name like a mantra while he defiled you in your dreams. Rolling onto your back you sat up finally, stretching your arms and shoulders before rising to your feet. “I’m gonna shower, tell Sara to debrief me after?” Zari holds her thumb up as lazily as you had earlier while she walked with you out of your room. You continued down the hall to the bathroom but Zari stood with pursed lips, her eyes narrowing as she watched you walk off, plan already forming in her mind’s eye.

The entirety of your shower you tried to push all the raunchy images of yourself and John from your mind. You were failing miserably but at least you were putting in an effort. As the hot water ran over your back you heard the patter of footsteps enter the communal washroom and you called out. “Hey I’m in here!” You hollered over the water, unsure of who was entering. The stall next to you opened and closed and you heard the water start up before you got a response. “Yeah Zari told me.” Mick’s voice rumbled through the small wall between you two and you shrugged, returning to rinsing the shampoo from your hair. Mick was in and out in the time it took you to finally get conditioner in. You listened as he shut the water off and his dripping feet made their way to the sinks. You’d had your head under the water so it wasn’t drumming against the floor or walls allowing you to hear the dull murmur of his voice and someone else’s. Quickly rinsing your hair and yourself a final time you shut the water off and began toweling yourself dry when you finally heard the gist of the conversation, Zari being the other half. “She didn’t even peak or anything?” Her voice sounded somewhat shocked and you stifled a laugh as you tuned in. “No of course not, why would she? She some sort of perv?” Mick sounded just as shocked as Zari but for many different reasons. Next thing you heard was a light smack which you could only assume was Zari hitting Mick for getting ideas about you. “Well then it’s not you..” You stopped frozen with your towel half wrapped around you as you put together her plan for yourself. You’d sneakily dodged telling her who your dream had been about and the curiosity must’ve been killing her - she was a cat for a while after all. Rolling your eyes as the two walked off you finally exited the shower and moved to the sinks, brushing out your hair with your towel secured around your chest. Not even five minutes later Nate strolled in whistling a happy little song, with his towel tied just high enough to cover himself but low enough that his V line was exposed. Smirking to yourself you shook your head, gathering your things with a cheeky smile. “Sorry bout that bud, bathrooms all yours.” Giving his shoulder an overly friendly punch you shot him a wink before picking up his tune and whistling it down the hall and back to your room. Just as your door closed behind you a half whispered ‘damn it!’ could be heard coming from the direction you’d just left.

After getting dressed and getting the rundown from the missed team meeting you were left to your own devices until something were to come up that needed Legends attention. For a bit you stayed in your room tidying up and reorganizing things just to keep yourself busy. This plan was thwarted however when your stomach growled aggressively at you since you’d skipped breakfast. Making your way to the kitchen you spotted Zari and Nate in the library, and they hushed their voices when you walked past; always so subtle those two. You huffed a silent laugh as you rounded the corner to find Ray and Gary seated at the dining table with DnD sprawled out and being set up. Flashing them a smile you made your way to the food fabricator to have Gideon whip you up a quick plate of nachos. As if it were a calculated arrival - it was - Nate and Zari strutted in with coy smiles on their faces. Nate took his seat at the game table and Zari moved to stand by you, stealing a chip from your plate before you’d even eaten any. Shooting her a playful glare you sat the plate down on the island to share with her. “So how’s your day been after that uh, dream?” Her brows rose as she stuck another cheese and guacamole covered chip in her mouth, crunching it for emphasis. Before you responded she nodded towards the table of men, and you glanced to see Gary and Ray play fighting with their figurines. You chuckled slightly and shook your head as you ate a few bites yourself before responding. “First of all, ew no and Ray’s too cutesy.” Zari huffed and simply stole another chip in defeat as you continued. “And just like every other day that I’ve woken up from them. Annoyingly horny and insanely frustrated.” Zari choked slightly at your response clearly not expecting such honesty. All three men looked over when she started coughing, Nate jumping up to pat her back gently. You stifled a hearty laugh by stuffing another few chips in your mouth.

Looking over finally you caught Ray staring at you, before he averted his eyes instantly upon locking to yours. His face was bright red and it took you a moment to register what could be flustering him so much. Turning sharply to the couple at your left your eyes narrowed to Zari. “You told them?!” She gulped down a sip of water Nate had grabbed for her and averted her gaze. “No.. I told Mick, and Nate..” She grimaced into an apologetic smile and you rolled your eyes. “And I kinda told.. well everyone else.” Nate admitted as he scratched at his neck. Again your body snapped in his direction and your jaw dropped. “E-Everyone?” You choked out, blinking away the anxiety in your head that he’d relayed the message to the very person the dream had actually been about. Zari and Nate both smirked now, tilting their heads in unison as they eyed you. “Why? Worried whoever it was found out?” Zari questioned teasingly, and you forced a very fake guffaw at the comment. “No, I mean.. who cares? Everyone has sex dreams right?” You shrugged as you felt your face beginning to burn. Just then Sara made her way into the room with Charlie in toe. “Aye, did she finally fess up?” The latter of the girls piped up and moved to your side, giving you a nudge. Your glare moved back to Nate and he held his hands up defensively. “It’s a small ship! Word travels fast!” Sara and Zari both give small laughs, and Charlie jabs you with her elbow again. ”Was it me?” She winked down at you and you finally cracked a genuine laugh. Resting your head tenderly on her shoulder you batted your lashes up at her. “Oh don’t you wish babe?” Pecking her cheek you weaved your hands through everyone else’s to snatch what was left of your nachos away. Taking slow backwards steps from the group as you spoke, you eyed them each with raised brows. “Now if you’re all done grilling me for nitty gritty details of my subconscious, I’m gonna go stuff my face.” Seeing wide eyes for a fraction of a second before you spun around hadn’t been enough of a warning to stop you from crashing yourself and the entirety of your plate right into John’s chest. His mouth dropped open and a huff of laughter floated out, and he simply glanced down as the plate clattered to the floor and cheese and toppings dropped from his previously crisp white shirt.

As if you wouldn’t have been mortified enough just seeing him now you’d really done yourself in. “Oh god, I’m so sorry I didn’t even know you were there I-“ You stammered slightly before kneeling to pick up the plate and the contents that had fallen to the floor. You knew all eyes were on you right now and that didn’t help the color fade from your cheeks any faster. Sara knelt down to help you clean pieces of the food from the floor, sneakily giving you a pointed look that only made your face burn hotter. Suddenly she stood and took the plate from your hands, clattering it into the sink. “You’re both absolute messes.” Charlie commented with a bit of a snort. John glanced down at himself giving a dramatic sigh. He dropped his coat over the back of a dining chair before he went to loosen his tie, slipping it off before moving to unbutton his shirt. You’d yet to rise to your feet and finally did so when you wiped the last of the food from the floor, just in time to be met with John shrugging his shirt off his shoulders and crumpling it in his hand. “Right, where’s the washer? Reckon get a jump on this before it tries to stain.” Turning slightly to you he held his hand out expectantly. Your brows furrowed and you tilted your head a bit and he didn’t even need to hear your voice to know your question. “Well you’re just as much a mess as I am, off with it so we can clean it.” He motioned to your top and held his hand out again, fanning his fingers up in a gimme motion. If your cheeks hadn’t already been red you were surely a tomato now. John’s eyes had a hint of mischief behind them, more than their usual glaze of it at least, and you couldn’t find the means to say no even in front of the whole team. Slipping the tee shirt off over your head you dropped it in his hands before hurrying yourself out of the room. Behind you Zari sucked in a less than quiet gasp, and Sara elbowed her instantly. As you practically sprinted your way back to your room you overheard Nate clap a hand to John’s shoulder and volunteer to help him with the laundry. In that moment you knew you were screwed.

Once back in your room you changed into clean clothes and flopped face first into your bed. In the silence and solidarity your mind drifted back to the nights and nights worth of dreams and fantasies you’d created inside your head. It seemed like ever since meeting him your mind was overrun with thoughts of John. Most of them being less than innocent. It was impossible not to be attracted to him. So scruffy and rough around the edges but such a softy underneath it all, but your mind urged you to wonder how that would translate in private. Would he be just as full of swagger and confidence and take command? Or would his gentler side take over and leave you buzzing but floating on cloud nine? Turning onto your back you laid there with your eyes closed, letting your mind travel to taboo places. Or more so the hard to reach places that you wished his hands were. A small and wistful sigh fell from you just in time to hear your doors swish open. Sitting up instantly you were met with the same piercing brown eyes you’d been gazing into behind your eyelids. John leaned against the doorframe in his freshly cleaned shirt and tie, your tee shirt slung over his shoulder. “I’m on delivery duty so it seems.” He stated with an exaggerated shrug of the shoulder occupied by your top. You flashed him a small smile and gestured him inside, and your doors slid closed the moment he was away from them. He took the few steps from the door to your bed and kneeled against the end of it, slipping the shirt into his hand and holding it out to you with a half smile. “You darted out pretty quick back there. Weren’t embarrassed just for getting me a little messy I hope?” As he spoke he brought a knee up to perch on the edge of the bed, his hands returning to his pockets once you’d taken your shirt back. Your cheeks tinted a bit at the phrasing and you gave a small nod. “A little. More so being half naked in front of the entire team.” You shrugged it off and John’s lips curled up into a full smirk. “Oh now, that’s definitely nothing to be embarrassed by. Especially not when you look like that..” He trailed off as his eyes roamed over your figure unabashedly. You watched as his gaze slowly came back to yours and you swallowed the thick lump of dryness that had since formed in your throat.

It was silent for a moment before you broke it the only way you could think of, the tension unbearable with his eyes on you that way. “A-Aren’t you uh, here for game night to play with the guys?” Your question hung for a moment and he simply narrowed his gaze at you with a soft chuckle. “Originally. But I think there’s someone else I’d much rather play with.” His words left his lips and he trailed his tongue across them drawing your gaze there. Like the honey smooth seducer he was he took the moment of distraction to lurch forward and crash his lips to your own. Not a single cell in your body tried to fight against him, you melted to his touch as if he was holding hellfire in his hands. Your arms wound around his neck as his snaked around your waist before laying you down. The kiss was hungry and passionate like he’d been waiting just as long for it as you had. Whether that was true or not you didn’t know or care right now. The only thoughts in your mind were the raunchiest of scenes from your dreams and you wanted nothing more than to reenact them. Breaking from the kiss to catch your breath you kept your eyes closed as you felt John settle between your legs. His hands rubbed your thighs and you finally blinked up at him, his lips curled into a smug grin. “So a couple little birdies told me you’ve been having trouble sleeping.” He drawled, leaning over you to nuzzle his nose against yours as one of his hands travelled higher up your thigh. Nibbling your lower lip between your teeth you simply nodded, but such a small response just wouldn’t do for the warlock above you. His free hand came to your chin and he brought his thumb to your lips, pulling the lower one out from your bite. “No no love, I’m gonna need you to really tell me.” As he spoke he trailed his thumb along your lower lip, his eyes fixated on how willingly you parted them at his touch. He hummed a low noise before kissing you again, very briefly, before pulling back letting his hand fall to your shoulder.

“What’s been keeping you up, hm?” John brushed the backs of his fingers along your cheek as his other hand crept past your thigh to grope at your ass. The action made your brows raise and finally a smirk crawled its way across your lips. Bringing a hand down to stroke along his collar bone you let your eyes trail over the exposed skin as you licked your lips just as enticingly as he had earlier. “See these dreams I keep having.. there’s just no sleeping after waking up from something like that.” You feigned a pout and John played right into your rouse, furrowing his brow in false pity at your words. “Oh you poor dear. And what is it you do when you’re stuck up so late after these.. retched dreams of yours?” Again he gave a squeeze to your rear and you fought another smile from cracking your little facade. You let out a purposefully distressed sigh, trailing a single finger along the buttons of John’s shirt. “I lay here, all alone, usually in the dark. And I think about you.” At the final word you’d reached the hemline of his trousers and you hooked a finger in one of the belt loops, giving a small but sharp tug. Letting a sigh huff from his lips John wasted no more time giving into your desires. His lips locked to yours again and the hand that had been stroking your cheek cupped it to keep you close to him. Again your body absolutely folded at his touch and you moved your hand to the zipper of his slacks and managed to lower it and unbutton them before John broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. Every few pecks he’s nip at your skin and elicit little whimpers from you, and your hand soon found the growing bulge beneath his boxers. He growled slightly into your neck as you grazed his length and bucked into your hand giving you all the more reason to whine up at him.

Pulling back from your skin he eyed your frame, chest heaving and eyes clouded over as you gazed up at him with anticipation. “God you’re absolutely stunning.” He rushed out before moving to sit you up, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to pull it over your head and fling it away mindlessly. Without hesitation you began undoing the buttons on his dress shirt but he groaned and put his hands atop your own, gripping the fabric and pulling harshly to force the buttons to pop open in a rush. Nibbling at your lip again, you brushed a hand up his torso before curling it around the back of his neck to pull him back down to you for more of his lips on your own. John’s hands fell to your waist and slipped your pants off your hips and you raised them off the bed so he could remove them fully. As he did so he trailed his lips down your neck and chest peppering wet and hungry kisses all over your exposed skin. Once he’d gotten your pants to your knees he moved himself down your body until his kisses met your panty line, and you sucked in a small gasp in excitement. A low chuckle left the blond’s lips and he hovered over your still covered center to pull your pants to your ankles and discard them. With his trousers already undone he slipped them down and off with ease before bringing his hands to rest at your ankles. “Did those dreams start out a little something like this?” In one swift pull he’d tugged you down the bed, your legs wrapping behind him and both your clothed hips flush together. Another sharp intake of breath exited your lungs as a sigh and you nodded in response back to him before remembering what he’d mentioned earlier about wanting to hear you. “A few of them..” You sat up so you were closer to level with him, the bed causing you to meet his chest rather than his eyes.

Keeping his feet firmly on the floor John lowered his upper body over you to lay you back down. His lips met your neck again and he bit into the flesh. Your back arched off the mattress and into him, and he took the chance to reach behind you and unclasp your bra. The action brought a small smirk to your lips and you rolled your body against his in attempt to spur him further. Again he growled against your skin and suckled the bit between his teeth until it was a dark purple. Moving his lips across your chest he tugged the fabric of your bra away from you with his teeth. The sight alone made your hips twitch and he dawned a devious expression. “Someone’s eager..” He murmured in the same tone you’d heard in your sleep and it sent a chill over your skin. Finally moving to your panties he trailed a delicate fingertip along the top hemline, drawing more goosebumps to raise on your skin. Every little physical reaction he got out of you only made his stomach tighten more and more. Finally he couldn’t take his own teasing any longer and slipped his fingers past the thin layer of fabric. His eyes nearly rolled back when he felt just how wet you already were. “Bloody hell.. those dreams really got to you eh?” John quirked a playful brow at you just as he slid two fingers into your awaiting entrance. A slow whine fell from your lips and your jaw fell open, and John simply hovered over you with blown out pupils. “God you’re a tight little thing..” He mumbled in a raspy tone, bringing his free hand to caress up your side and just barely trace the side of your breast before rubbing back down. He repeated the soft massaging action as his fingers worked you at the same teasingly slow pace.

Once you began to rock your hips up to meet his hands a wide smirk painted itself across John’s face. “Need a bit more love?” As he spoke up he leaned over you, this time grabbing your lower lip between his teeth to tug at it. Again your back lifted from the mattress at the stinging sensation as it sent a shock through your senses. The way your body angled allowed his fingers to reach deeper and he brought his free hand to your lower back to keep you propped up. Capturing your lips again he began thrusting his fingers much harder and faster, his thumb brushing against your clit with every movement. Your hands came to grip at his hair and cup his face, shrill little whines and mewls of pleasure filling your kiss. Keeping your body close to his John moved his kisses down your neck again the opposite side as the one he’d left his mark on. The kisses were sloppy in nature but calculated in placement. Just below your ear, trailing down until your raging pulse beat against his lips. There he stayed and kissed the same area repeatedly in a small array of circled pecks. His fingers curled into you and your legs twitched around him, a much needier noise forcing past your swollen lips. “John.. please I j-just—“ Panting for breath you whined again not trusting your voice to speak anymore. Instead you tightened the grip your legs had on his waist and pulled his body as tightly to you as you could. Leaning back to hover over you John finally met your eyes and saw the desperation behind them. “Oh how could I ever say no to that.” Pulling his hand from you in an instant he moved it to his boxers to discard them with a quickness. Aiding his efforts you raised your hips from the bed and slid your panties low enough for him to tug them off your ankles. Instantly your legs returned to their locked position around his waist. His arms wrapped around your back and he pulled you up into his arms. “Hold on tight love.” He shot you a cheeky wink as your arms grasped around his shoulders and he spun the two of you and walked you right into the wall.

As your back lightly thumped against the cold metal you stole his lips again and traced the edge of his lip with your tongue. The seductive action flipped a switch in John’s behavior and he was suddenly just as desperate as you’d been. His tongue curled around yours as one of his hands moved from your hip to between you, aligning himself with your still dripping center before pushing himself into you full to the hilt. A strained gasp choked at your throat at the sudden filling and you released the breath as the most sinful of moans. “You sound like such a naughty little pet.. don’t you dare keep quiet.” With that he began thrusting sharply up into you, snapping his hips at the end of every thrust to hit your inner walls with precision. Your hands braced his shoulder tightly and your nails began scratching at his skin, causing him to seethe a deep breath through gritted teeth. The hand he’d positioned himself with stayed between you and he skillfully found your clit with the pads of his fingers. Another breathy sound filled his ears and he thrusted up into you particularly roughly, forcing the sound to spring from your lips much louder and high pitched. “Beautiful princess keep it up..” he growled to you. Your head fell back against the wall and your eyes screwed tightly closed, the string of gaudy vocals echoing throughout the room. The grip you had in his shoulder tightened even more and you felt your nails dig into his flesh. John let a gravelly groan slip past his lips and he leaned his head against your shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to the way your body moved with his and how your chest bounced with every hoist he gave into you. The angle he’d reached with himself leaned over you was deeper and you could feel your walls clenching against him the harder he rubbed at your sensitive and throbbing nerves.

Swallowing the thick lump in your throat you forced a few deep breaths before you could finally speak, though your voice came out a sultry whine. “Harder..” As you spoke you clenched your thighs around John’s torso. You watched a chill travel down his spine as he shivered slightly, stopping his thrusts completely with himself buried as deeply into you as he could be. He pulled his head back to gaze down at you and his eyes travelled all over your face. Your flushed cheeks, parted lips with panting breaths passing through them; if he didn’t know any better he’d have sworn you were even glowing. “If I wasn’t smitten with you already you just sealed the deal dearie.” Licking his lips in sync with his movement he slowly pulled himself from you until he was just barely grazing your outer lips, his eyes trained on where your bodies intertwined and a low throaty groan accompanying the action. Before you could even blink he slammed himself into you and rocked your body up against he wall forcefully. A sharp cry rang out through the room and John repeated his slow pull out, this time bringing his thumb to press harshly to your clit. As he thrusted up into you he began rubbing erratic zig zags across the sensitive nub, causing your hips to twitch violently and another flow of pants and breathy whimpers to spill from you. Foregoing the slow build up any further John went right into pounding into your core, never once relenting his thumb from your clit.

The abundance of force left your legs and hips shaking and trembling at his touch. Much like in your dream your body threatened to give out but John kept you pinned to the wall with his other hand pressed firmly to your hip. “Hard enough luv?” He panted out in a rough growl, and you nodded frantically as your chest bounced wildly with his very movement. The tension in your stomach finally became unbearable, and a shrill and piercing shriek rang through the room as you released around John’s length. The way your walls tightened and clenched around him left his mouth gaping, and it only took a few more bucks of his hips before he was pulling himself from you to spill his release all over your stomach and thighs. John brought his hands to your waist as he rested his sweaty forehead against your own. Both you simply sat there panting for a few moments before he cleared his throat with a grunt and hoisted you back around to flop the both of you onto your bed. You giggled softly as you bounced onto your pillows and the sound made a warm and lazy smile cross the warlocks features. “So was that what dreams are made of?” He teased in a much softer timbre while he traced his fingertips along your arm. A matching smile tugged at your lips and you nodded contently, rolling on your side to face him. “I can say with confidence that my dreams were nothing compared to that.” You let a hand rest against his chest and he chuckled, the sound reverberating against your palm and sending a warmth through you. John brought his own hand to cover yours before he brought your fingers to his lips to place gentle pecks to your knuckles, the very action that had started this attraction to him to begin with. Even after the way you’d just been the small gesture made a tiny rise to your cheeks. John flashed another smug smile at you and nonchalantly intertwined your fingers. “I’ve got to say I didn’t think a pretty little thing like you had it in ya.” He winked over at you as he shrugged his clawed shoulder. Again your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue and he huffed another small laugh. Glancing down at you he groaned a bit seeing his mess starting to drip along your leg. He sprang up and grabbed the nearest cloth - his now tattered button up - and cleaned his mess from you like the gentlemen he was underneath the sharp tongued exterior. Pulling you to him you rested your head on his chest and simply listened to the rhythm of his heart. You’d just started to drift off when the intercoms clicked on, Zari’s voice being the main focus with many other hushed ones in the background. “Attention legends, now that our resident exorcist and apparent resident porn star are done making dreams into reality we have a hit on the magicometer.” Your eyes went wide as a full moon, meanwhile John simply burst into laughter. Scurrying to your feet you threw on a pair of loose pajama shorts and a tee shirt. Just as he was tying his notorious accessory around his neck, John glanced up at you with a cheeky grin and his eyes narrowed. Catching his gaze you quirked a brow at him, unable to fight the smirk that covered your face. “What?” You asked gently before he made his way to you, shirtless what with the tattered messy ball it’d been wadded into. He grabbed you by the back of the neck and stole a quick but heated kiss. Still holding you in his hands he smirked as he spoke. “Remind me to never bring you a dream catcher.”

#john constantine #john constantine smut #john constantine x reader #constantine smut #constantine x reader #constantine #legends of tomorrow #legends smut #hellblazer #hellblazer smut

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luvdsc · 6 years ago

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neptune’s atlantis.

Never underestimate a lady.

pairing :: jung jaehyun x reader genre :: fluff, action / pirate au word count :: 3,099 words warnings :: mentions of blood author’s note :: due to @winetae asking me for a jaehyun fic for months and then a pirate au last night, this finally happened. my knowledge of pirates is limited to peter pan and potc, so this is not historically accurate ↳ originally titled: “argh ye a fine swashbucklin’ lad” / “the jeffery roger”

The Vin et Gateau is your home.

After saving enough money to buy the small, but sturdy, beautiful ship, you set sail with an eager crew in tow and have not returned to your hometown ever since. And why would you? The sea welcomes you far better than any dusty and old village with equally dusty and old traditions that only offered you arranged marriage and childbirth, making you into another perfect cookie cutter wife.

The sea offers freedom, independence, and passion for you and your crew who also desired to escape the lackluster future you were all branded with simply because of your gender. The sea is now your hometown. The spray of salt tousles your already tangled hair and greets you every time you take up your rightful place at the helm. The water rocks your ship back and forth, the same way a mother rocks her child in a cradle, lulling you to sleep at night with the crashing of waves. The overhead cries of seagulls serves as a reminder of land refuge nearby, and the stars are your bright compass.

But the sea is also unpredictable. It is what drew you into its embrace in the first place. You thrive in the eye of the storm, seeking out the thrills that come hand in hand with navigating through tsunamis and hurricanes. And right now, it was a little too calm, too still, too pristine. You almost expect, anticipate even, what is about to come next.

Boom.

The sudden, unnatural crash of water that rings in your ears notifies you of an incoming raid. Yerim had called down to you earlier from the crow’s nest, warning you about a spotted ship: Neptune’s Atlantis. You remember hearing about them in your most recent venture on land, finding yourself in an obscure bar and listening carefully to the words of the madame working behind the counter. There was a new group of pirates in the waters from the east, who were deadly and calculating, succeeding in every one of their endeavors and maintaining their status as one of the wealthiest crews around. Armed with immense skill and dangerously handsome faces, they left behind a trail of broken ships and broken hearts wherever they sailed. Descriptions of many crews like this were commonplace and merely bar gossip. However, there was one tidbit of information that caught your attention.

The captain has never been seen.

Many tales have been spun surrounding the man who is an enigma himself. Stories of him being a ghost pirate, of him being so ridiculously scarred he could not show himself, that he has a claw for an arm and a gaping hole in his left eye socket, amongst other ridiculous speculations and wives’ tales only spurn on your own interest in this new ship and its mysterious captain. Only his name was known, of which people only dare to whisper in passing.

Jung Jaehyun.

Perhaps you may never say it aloud, but you are very eager, almost embarrassingly so, to uncover the truth about this man who appeared from nearly nowhere and molded himself into a legend.

You snap back into action when heavily saturated cherry pink smoke rises up from where the cannon had landed near your ship: a telltale sign of Neptune’s Atlantis. Immediately, you order Seulgi and Sooyoung to take charge below deck and position the cannons along with other members. They are to fire them after the third cannon from the rival ship.

Striding over to the railing of your ship, you look out, squinting in hopes of seeing the infamous ship. Your lips curl into a wicked grin when you finally spot them. After all, you are about to be reminded what the best part of being a pirate is. Other ships have learned long ago to steer clear of you after they were taught why you were called the most feared, ruthless captain with the only all female crew of equally vicious members. Dubbed as the Sirens by many of your defeated foes, you proudly hold onto that title. But, it gets a little bit too boring and mundane out here when no one dares to challenge you anymore.

Two more cannons from Neptune’s Atlantis are fired in rapid succession, and with that signal, your own cannons go off, the roaring shouts of your crew accompanying the loud booms. Your stomach flutters as the thrill of a new challenge tingles up your spine. It really has been too long. Your first mate, Joohyun, has taken charge of steering the ship towards your rival as you plan out the quickest and most efficient method of attack and plunder, gauging the upcoming looming ship and mapping out various scenarios within your mind. The ships meet all too soon, and soon, planks are roughly thrown across to connect them as unfamiliar, unwelcome faces swarm onto your ship.

Immediately, you draw your weapon when someone—who looks more like a young boy than a burly pirate with his large innocent eyes and baby face, somewhat resembling the cat you used to have—brandishes their sword a little too close to your liking. You block his attack with a small grunt, slightly straining against the amount of force he administered. In a few moments, you easily overtake him. He seems to be a newbie, you observe, and his hands shake as he clumsily pulls out a small revolver. You make a small noise of disapproval, quickly jabbing the tip of your sword through the loop of the trigger and fling the gun over the ship’s railing.

“Now, that’s playing a little unfair, isn’t it? You with a gun and me with a sword?” You pout, backing the pirate against the railing as your sword comes dangerously close to the center of his chest. “And I don’t like guns. It makes all the fighting happen a little too quick, you know? Anyone can shoot a gun. It might take a few tries, but they’ll hit their target. Swords require so much more finesse and technique, don’t you agree?”

You drag the sword’s tip across his shirt, making small slashes into his shirt until your initials are completed. He is shaking now, standing before you, and you sigh, “You’re no fun at all, not fighting back. Lucky for you, you aren’t the one I want. So leave before I change my mind.”

He takes off the second you drop your sword to your side. The rest of your crew is preoccupied, the sound of metal clashing against metal and battle cries are all that you hear. Your eyes flit across the new persons, searching for the one who started it all. Your instincts tell you that he is not here. You look towards Joohyun, who gives you an almost indiscernible nod, as she fights a ridiculously pink haired pirate. She now takes command of your ship, and you nimbly begin to make your way across one of the planks.

Another man blocks your entrance, and you exchange blows, ending with him making his journey into the ocean, his echoing screams ringing in your ears. With a sigh, you continue to charge on against two men at once. These men have become a bit of an annoyance to you with their fights that last only seconds, merely acting as flimsy obstacles in your path. You easily parry your way through the remainder of enemies in your path. And once you reached the other side, to your utter surprise, Neptune’s Atlantis is eerily empty. Several large splashes are heard behind you, and you look over and see that they have all infiltrated your ship, the planks joining the two now cast off and abandoned.

Unsettled, you cautiously make your way around the deck, hand resting firmly on the hilt of your sword and prepared to unsheathe it at any moment. You see nothing suspicious, and at last, find yourself in front of the door to the captain’s quarters. Reaching out, you harshly twist the doorknob open and enter, swinging your sword around in all directions in fear of ambush. However, nothing happens.

You are merely greeted with the sight of a tall man, dressed in a simple white loose shirt and tight dark pants tucked into his worn boots and a sword hanging by his waist, with his back facing towards you. And you just know. This is the captain.

He turns to face you, and your breath hitches in your throat, eyes widening a fraction of an inch. With porcelain skin without a single blemish, sharp dark eyes that easily pierce and haunt your soul if you still had one, equally dark hair styled in a way that only a few strands fall on his forehead, and lips molded into a smirk that holds far too many secrets: Jung Jaehyun is nothing like the stories you were told.

And that is when you finally understand how dangerous he really is.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Lady y/n.” His lips quirk into another one of those smiles that has you nearly reeling. He strides towards you, and you shift in your position, your grip tightening around your sword’s hilt.

“It’s Captain y/n.” You hold the weapon in front of you now, making no move to lower it as he comes even closer. You have backed yourself out of the room as he advances and are standing on the deck by now. “Stand back.”

He pays no heed to your words, and in less than a millisecond, your sword comes down, swiftly cutting through the laced threads holding the front of his shirt. His chest now exposed, he finally stops, giving you merely an amused look. Your eyes harden as you step forward, toe to toe, face mere inches from his, and press your blade into his skin, but not nearly hard enough to draw blood.

“Next time won’t come with a warning.”

His eyes flickering down to your lips for a fleeting moment, Jaehyun laughs mirthfully. “Oh, sweetheart, I have to admit, you’re much more interesting and far prettier than the others I’ve encountered. It’s a shame you still fell into the same trap. Curiosity and greed have never failed to lead to a pirate’s downfall.”

He quickly pulls out his weapon, engaging you in a sword fight within seconds, and you quickly fight back, parrying his every move. And immediately, you know this fight was different from all the others you participated in. He fights the same way you do, with the same fire, the same passion, the same raw eagerness. And to your utter dismay, he is better. His attacks are just as calculated and nimble as yours, but they are stronger. He retains a force much stronger than your own. And you know you already lost, but he refuses to hand you defeat so easily. Because like you, he enjoys playing with his food, playing mind games, toying with his opponent until they beg for their end.

His eyes sparkle as the two of you move back and forth, almost as if in a dance for two. In moments, you are almost left breathless, fighting back every blow with one of your own as nimbly as you can. Grinning and looking quite relaxed, he then continues where he had left off, casually blocking off another attack from you.

“You see, the myths cause enough curiosity for any pirate to abandon their own ship and search for me themselves. And boasting a vast amount of wealth simply seals the deal. Curiosity brings them onto my ship to find me, but greed makes them abandon that search and look for the gold. And that is when I strike.”

His sword hitches into the hilt of your own, and he successfully pulls the weapon out of your hand, haphazardly tossing it aside where it lodges itself into one of the crevices between the wooden boards. He comes even closer to you, and this time, you do not waver, standing your ground with your chin held high, as he circles around you, poking you with his weapon, like a predator and its prey. Coming to a full stop in front of you once more, he reaches out and traces his finger against the curve of your face before twirling a loose strand of your hair between his fingertips and then tenderly, almost romantically, tucking it behind your ear. Gazing at you, he leans in impossibly close, lips mere centimeters away from yours, and once again, you nearly forget to breathe. He can hear the erratic thumping of your heart trapped within your rib cage, and he leans back at last, a satisfied expression making its way across his face.

“But you,” his eyes twinkle as he grins at you yet again. “You went straight to me. I must say, I haven’t had a fight like this in ages, and it is quite refreshing. I’m sorry it has to end this way. Alas, a crew cannot function without its captain, and a ship without its crew is a ship for the taking. But do let me take a small token to remember you by.”

His sword is suddenly thrusted dangerously close to your face, almost slicing your cheek, and you know he could have easily marred your skin but chose not to. A lock of your hair falls into his palm, and he tilts his head, staring at you with such a delicate, soft look in his eyes, one entirely different from the expression he held mere moments ago in the heat of the fight.

“It’s a shame,” he hums, “Perhaps, in a different time, at a different place, I would have mistaken you as the treasure instead. But nevertheless, it’s best not to dwell in such fleeting thoughts. We’re here in this place in this moment. Now, would you like me to accompany you to the plank, Lady y/n? My mother taught me that I should never allow a lady to walk home alone.”

With the tip of his sword pressed into your back, his question is no doubt redundant, leaving you with no choice. You walk forward, reaching the start of the plank. You halt, hiding a small wince and gritting your teeth when the sword harshly digs through the fabric and into your skin. Shame, it was one of your favorite shirts, too. You turn to him, smiling sweetly and innocently, ignoring the scraping of the blade across your skin.

“Oh, but please, I’m still a lady, am I not? So dear kind sir, would you oblige to giving me one kiss goodbye?”

The familiar look of amusement and interest appears in his eyes as he lowers the sword ever the slightest. “Well, if the lady insists as her last dying wish, who am I to deny her?”

You look up at him through your eyelashes coyly, tongue darting out to wet your lips. His eyes quickly follow the movement, and you force yourself to hide a sneer threatening to form. Your hands grasp onto the silk front of his shirt you had ripped earlier, pulling him closer to you. With one hand still clutching the sword positioned diagonally across your back, Jaehyun places his other hand under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before pressing his lips to yours.

His lips are surprisingly soft and warm, crashing against yours in the very same way the ocean crashes onto the shore. You are sighing against his mouth, hands wandering as they explore his skin beneath the tattered shirt, and his tongue swipes at your lower lip to which your mouth willingly parts to allow him entrance. His eyes flutter shut as he cranes his neck to deepen the kiss even further. You kiss him back harder as the kiss becomes more passionate, yet delicate and gentle. You become lost in his embrace, and the clattering of his sword on the ground is faintly heard as he finally brings his other hand up to cup your face, his mouth ravishing yours.

In an instant, you reach down to grab the short knife hidden in your right boot, this time twisting around to pull him into a chokehold and pressing the blade against his neck with enough pressure for a thin line of bright crimson to show. You kick away the sword over the plank where it flies across the scratched surface and into the plunging waters.

“Never underestimate a lady, Jaehyun. Better yet, never underestimate a lady captain and her crew.”

For the very first time, his eyes betray his true feelings as they dart around in confusion and panic when you face him towards the ship deck. There, your crew stands, smirking, with a few mock salutes towards him. You grin, raising one fist up in the air as your members follow suit, raising their swords with loud shouts.

“You see, you really were one step ahead, I’ll give you that. But unfortunately for you, we were two steps ahead.

“We had already hid our treasure before we set sail and removed any anchors from our ship. My members jumped off as soon as yours threw the planks overboard. They made their way to your ship and waited patiently for the right time to show, while your crew is floating somewhere on my abandoned ship as of now.”

Jaehyun only stands still, silent, as you grin triumphantly. Joohyun and Yerim step forward with a coil of rope, tying the defeated pirate’s hands behind his back. You stand back, watching with satisfaction and carefully tucking your knife back into its original position. Your crew mates unceremoniously dump him into one of the life boats tightly tied onto the side of the ship’s hull.

“So, thank you, truly, for allowing me to become the new captain of Neptune’s Atlantis. I’ll take it as a small token to remember you by.” You begin to stride over to where he sits, his dark eyes now burning holes into your figure. Reaching out, your fingers wrap around your abandoned sword, once wedged between the floor boards, and pull it out with flourish. Twirling the sword in your hand before pressing it against the ropes anchoring the life boat in place, you lean over the edge, smiling mockingly at the glowering man before you.

“But, oh, sweetheart, I have to admit, you’re much more interesting and far prettier than the others I’ve encountered. It’s a shame you still fell into the same trap. Lust and pride have never failed to lead to a man’s downfall.”

With one sharp stroke, you cut the ropes.

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aheavenofhell · 5 years ago

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Shooting Stars

dedicated to and inspired by @mindsummerdream

The thing about being an astronomer is, you don't get much, well, face to face contact in your profession. That is to say, though Crowley can gaze at the stars from afar, he has never had the opportunity to actually look at one—to touch it, feel it, look at it up close. So when the London Center of Space Exploration writes him an email describing an asteroid that they think will hit Shaftesbury, and they want him to go and take samples, he is, of course, ecstatic. Normally, geologists do the collecting bit, but apparently a professor at the Center had read a rather reputable paper by A J Crowley and had decided he would be exactly the man for the job. Crowley couldn't possibly disagree. A shooting star is, of course, not really a star. It is actually tiny bits of dust and rock called meteoroids, that, when spiraling into Earth's atmosphere, begins to burn. If anything survives the flames and hits earth—that is what we call meteorites. The flames are what cause the fantastic streaks of light that spin through the sky. Why does this happen? Sometimes, as the Earth orbits the Sun, it passes through debris left by a comet. This causes a meteor shower. Of course, Crowley is after an asteroid, which is like a much bigger version of a meteorite. Crowley had watched many meteor showers, but had never actually come in contact with one. He didn't have any type of proper geological sampling tools, so he settled on taking gloves and plastic bags and a sharpie, for labeling the bags. Oh, and a bottle of Loire Rose. He preferred dark, dry wine for special occasions, and it would be a celebration, of course. The professor on the phone had warned him specifically not to go to the area during the shower, but he dutifully ignored that and took a train to Shaftesbury the next morning. He shacked up in a nice local inn for the night, where he spent most of his time methodically looking over the pictures that determined the asteroid's orbit and descent. Exactly where it was going to hit was sketchy at best, but Crowley had a sort of sixth sense about this one. He wouldn't know if he was right until the next evening. He packed up his backpack of essentials, grabbed his smallest telescope, and started his trek. Shaftesbury was a rural town, small, quaint. Crowley preferred London's bustle and noise, but he could appreciate places like this—places where the light of the city didn't drown out the lights in the sky. It was an excellent place to set up a telescope and wile the night away. Of course, he would've liked to have someone to do it with. Got a bit. . .odd. Just talking to yourself about things. He would like to have a pair of eager ears once in a while, someone else who saw the same beauty in the universe he did. Oh well. Maybe someday. For now, he focused on where his astronomy-senses were taking him. He ended up in a large, empty field. It would be very nice if the asteroid were to land there, because it would make finding all the pieces much easier. Crowley sat down in the grass, opened his bottle of wine, and waited. For maybe an hour, he sat, just drinking and watching. He never lost his sense of childish wonder when it came to space—every time he looked up, he still felt that same sense of excitement and curiosity. What's up there? Will I ever see it? He was about to. It came streaking through the sky at exactly 12:34 AM. Crowley knew, because as it did he scrambled to check his watch and write the time down before watching in amazement as it soared just over the treeline, the light dying as it fell. He gathered up his things and ran in the direction it had gone. He wasn't too far off, because it ended up only being about a two kilometers away. Of course, two kilometers feels a bit longer when it is night time and there are mosquitoes about and the terrain is rough. Still, not too shabby. He brandished his flashlight as he swept the landscape, hunting for the crater. There it was. Big! Much bigger than he thought it would be! He felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over him. Cautiously, he approached the crater—all organic matter left would certainly be hot. But he could, at least, look at it. He got to the edge, shined his flashlight down, and— There was no asteroid at all. There was a man. There are several reasons Crowley found this extremely disconcerting: 1. A lack of asteroid was, admittedly, very disappointing. 2. The man was not burning himself alive, somehow. 3. The man was glowing. “Hello?!” Crowley yelped, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “Erm, hello!” the man in the crater said. “I seem to have made a bit of a mistake. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing. Gabriel will not be happy with me—“ “Isn't it hot down there?” Crowley asked, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to roll with it. “It's a bit toasty, just comfortable, I'd say. Oh no! Now this is a problem.” This is where Crowley was doubly confused. He was almost as confused as the first time he'd used an ATM. Because the man had just stretched out a feathered wing from his own back. And it looked. . .not good. The bird-man flinched as he attempted to flex it. It was bent all the wrong way. “That's a wing,” Crowley said stupidly. “It's a problem,” bird-man agreed. He climbed out of the hole. “I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Aziraphale.” He stuck out his hand. Crowley, dumbfounded, shook it. “Crowley,” he said. “And, ehm, what exactly. . .are you?” “Oh yes. I'm an angel, a Principality, to be precise. I was popping over here for a visit, they have the best fish'n chips here, you know, and I must have hit something—“ “So wait.” Crowley held up his hands to pause him. “You're an angel. Like, a supernatural entity that fell from the sky.” “Just the sort.” Aziraphale smiled. It was a bit adorable. “And now your wing's injured,” Crowley added as an afterthought. “And I have no asteroid to bring back to London.” The angel frowned. “I was mistaken for an asteroid? So you're some sort of scientist, then?” “An astronomer,” Crowley clarified, a bit bitterly. Now wasn't really the time to be petty, but, well—he'd wanted his rock. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Do you think, that, perhaps—“ he licked his lips, “—perhaps I could accompany you, back to London? I could even miracle us there, so you needn't pay for a ticket home. Just—you know, until I fix my wing.” Crowley stared at him. “You want to stay at my flat?” “You seem like a very nice human, and I'm in a rather tight spot. You see, I was already reprimanded last week over an incident with a dead cat that came back to life a bit too suspiciously—“ “You, an angel, want to stay at my flat because—because you don't want to get in trouble with. . .?” “Gabriel. Archangel. Big deal, you know.” Crowley put a hand to his forehead. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink. The angel was giving him an awfully pleading look, though. And his wing did look all bent and pathetic. . .and he did come here to bring back a shooting star. “Fine,” he said. What could go wrong? When Crowley woke up in his flat, a tad hungover and definitely spotty, his first thought was that he'd had a very bizarre dream. Then he heard someone humming in the kitchen. He leaped out of bed, silently hoping it was some sort of burglar, and crept into the kitchen. Nope. It was Aziraphale. He had cooked a rather nice looking breakfast, and made tea, and was now quietly humming “Water Music” and reading in a chair Crowley knew he didn't have before. “How'd you do all this?” Crowley asked, rummaging around for some aspirin and seltzer. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said, looking up in surprise. “I went shopping—your fridge and cabinets are rather barren, you know, and thought you might enjoy a spot of breakfast.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I meant, how did we get back here?” “Oh! A small miracle—literally. I just sort of—wished us back.” Crowley decided that was enough information for now. “How's the wing?” he asked. Wincing, the angel stretched it out. It looked worse than before. Crowley tentatively touched it, and Aziraphale immediately flinched. “It will heal,” the angel muttered. “Want an aspirin?” Crowley said, in an attempt to be helpful. “That's very kind, dear boy, but I think some rest will be the best medicine.” Crowley shrugged, and found very suddenly that his hangover was cured. Maybe having an angel around wouldn't be so bad. For the next week, Crowley got to know Aziraphale a bit. His habits were niche, but not peculiar. He seemed to enjoy books, and food, and classical music. He often invited Crowley to dine out, as a sort of payment for letting him stay, and his taste in restaurants was admittedly excellent. Crowley often found him pouring over an old tome or making notes beside one. By the end of the week, they had fallen into a sort of comfortable pattern—they were very compatible flatmates (a rare thing indeed) and Crowley found he was actually enjoying the angel's company. He told Professor Knox that the asteroid was simply a no-show, a mistake, and went back to going to the Observatory and studying there. One evening, Aziraphale even went with him, eager to “learn something new” and perhaps even “spot that one that Uriel said looked like him”. Crowley thought it would be annoying, but. . .Aziraphale actually listened to him. He genuinely seemed to find what Crowley was saying interesting, and made comments and asked questions. By the end of the night, Crowley had smiled and laughed more times than he had in years. But the angel couldn't stay forever. His wing was healing—it got worse first, but then gradually began to heal. Angels heal faster than humans, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's wing had already healed a while ago. But he was just as reluctant to leave as Crowley was to let him go. “Perhaps we should talk,” the angel quietly said one night. They sat down, facing each other, and Aziraphale suddenly looked quite sad, and Crowley knew what was about to come. Aziraphale managed to meet his eyes, and smile a bit. “My wing is healed,” he said softly. “I want to thank you—for everything. You've truly been gener—“ “Right, yeah,” Crowley said, words a bit thick. “'S no problem.” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, as a thank you, of sorts—I had something arranged.” He handed Crowley a scroll. Crowley went to unravel it, but Aziraphale stopped him. “After I leave,” he explained. Crowley nodded. “Well, erm, good luck,” he said. “Back up there, Hope you don't get in any trouble.” “Thank you, dear fellow. And good luck to you here. Perhaps I could. . .visit.” They shook hands, and Crowley tried his best not to cry, or kiss him, or cry. “Right. Goodbye.” And the angel was gone. It took Crowley a few moments to gather himself before he could properly examine the scroll. He swallowed, turning it over in his hands. It had a lovely red ribbon around it. Gingerly, he untied the bow and let the paper unravel. It read, in very elegant handwriting, like this: Anthony J Crowley, In the Name of Heaven Itself, I, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, dub you Saint of Astronomy. May the stars glimmer in your honor. Aziraphale got back to Heaven, and found it a bit empty. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Gabriel, even though time didn't actually exist there. “Aziraphale. How is “earth” doing?” “Good, good.” He walked around for a bit, feeling strangely saddened. He wondered if Crowley was reading his letter—if he liked it. He found himself thinking about the human for a very long time. I think I must have left something in his flat, he thought hopefully. Maybe. . .my first edition copy of Dorian Gray? Now I can't have that going missing. . . “I left something, I'll be right back!” he squeaked suddenly to Gabriel. “Aziraphale—“ He disappeared. “Crowley! Are you still here? I—“ He was interrupted as a certain saint yanked him into a kiss. Oh, he thought. I think I could get used to this.

#ineffable husbands #writing prompt #good omens #wingfic #au

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